My own beauty specialist

Today Mich said, "Mummy, I dreamed about you... what were you doing?". I had to remind him that he was the one who had the dream. But I was just wondering... how do you explain to a kid what a dream is?

About my personal beautician, well it's the one and only - Mich.

He likes to help me style my hair and he always notices when I change my hair style. I love the way he looks at me intently, his big pure eyes mastering every variation. Then he comments.

When I put on lip gloss he says, "I like you like that". I can't tell you how moved I was the first time he mentioned it, my heart skipped a beat and even with my skin tone I blushed.
There is something so powerful about comments that come from babes.

Earlier today he was pinching my cheeks when he said " you have a lot of face", yeah, I know I need to loose weight, I'm trying.

The classic one was when he told me "Mummy, breath in" while trying to push in my tummy. I mean, how bad can things get? ok so I know I have a "pot" but even when I "breath in" it's there ...I'm trying to work on that too.
When your four year old son (at the time he was still three) notices that eeh!, the bulge is a bit much, you know you gotta do something.

So evidently, the standards are high and I need to step up my game. I like the fact that the hints are innocent - they couldn't be more sincere.

Missing out

Parents in all their forms - biological, grandparents, godparents, guardians, shouldn't miss the episodes of their childrens lives. The first years are particularly intense, they unfold like flowers planted in rich soil.
Sadly, I know it's not always possible.

At 4 months, when I was just getting a hang on breastfeeding Mich developed his first teeth. Eeish! that's pretty early - my thoughts exactly. He then chose to sharpen them on me, not nice.

When Mich was 10 months old, he wanted to walk urgently. He would hold my hand and have me walk anywhere and everywhere with him. On January 1st, 2005 he walked unaided, the hard work had paid off.

By the time we left Uganda, Mich was only two and a half, he could barely construct logical sentences. By the time we landed at the JFK airport in New York the boy was fluent...something about the flight I guess.

Coming up to his third birthday we were sweating it out with colors. For some reason he never got his colors right. He knew to repeat the color immediately after I said it, but ask him seconds later and he would mention something totally different. I was getting little frustrated, most other kids younger than him knew their colors.
He woke up one day knowing all his colours, even Burgundy and bitter chocolate (just kidding).

For a long time he complained that feeding himself was such hard work. He would take two bites and say "mummy I'm tired". Sam or I would feed him.
Now he feeds himself, and I don't recall the moment things changed.

I loved Lego's growing up, it was fun putting those blocks together, setting up all sorts of things. Well actually I didn't have the legos but a friend of mine did, I was actually punished for stealing a door. Yup, it was that bad. But Mich? he couldn't be bothered. I just didn't get it, couldn't he see how much fun he could have with the blocks, their colors? I mean if even Sam's professor could bring Lego's for a class project, surely ...
The only thing Mich would do with the Lego pieces was throw them around and it was my job to find and return them.
He turned four and now he makes some really intricate pieces. Sometimes we hear him shouting out of frustration when he can't get the blocks right.
Now he is late for school because he was trying to construct something. Last night, around 3am there was lots of noise coming from his room. I found him playing with his lego, "but mummy, I can't sleep".

There was a time when we had to convince Mich to eat, now he asks for seconds. The first time it happened Sam and I looked at each other in disbelief. These are truly small miracles.
Now do you see why I don't think parents should miss out? You blink just once and something new is unfolding.

The way of a man with a maiden?!

When he is born, she is all he knows. He can't live without her, she nurses and cares for him. They bond in a manner unknown to any other relationship.

As he begins to find his way in life he slowly looses sight of her. To be later fascinated by the same specie , a much younger version. He is curious, he wants to know more about her,she looks different from him, she sounds different, she is different. Then he wants to "know" her because she gives him a "funny" feeling.

As a young man, he wants to experiment to find out if she can take the "funny" feeling away. It's gone for a moment, then it's back again.
He's drown to her, but when he turns around he sees another yet more intriguing than the last. Can he pursue her? but what about the other one?, no, this other one looks more promising. Wait a minute, there is another one "I've never seen one like this before" he thinks. They are so many, he can't have them all, he has got to choose, but does he really? he could have a piece of each one you know?!. That way he doesn't loose out.
He takes his time just like a car buyer, making sure he gets the car that suits his taste. Sometimes (if he is lucky)he'll get a great deal first time, or maybe he'll find out that she doesn't fit his prescription. He returns her and searches some more.
One thing remains a surety, he has to have "her" in his life. Life without her is odd, empty, meaningless.

The young lady, once a little snooty nosed kid down the block now looks very attractive. The girl nobody noticed in class now looks extremely pretty. The choices are endless but he has to make a decision.

Now that he a "man" he searches for one just like the first in his life, no one compares to her, she was ideal. He finally thinks he has seen one that comes close. He is ready to commit. Convinced that he will not be looking any more, he places a ring on her finger.

Time passes and "lets face it, it's hard not to look around". The colleague at work?, now she looks really good. The platonic relationship with a long time friend, is not so platonic any more. But what about the one at home?, is she still attractive? "yes she is - but...". Is she the one I want to spend forever with? "yes she is - but...".
The "buts" are endless because?? ... "it's hard to explain you see".

The ones scantily dressed are luring, the ones selling for a price are luring - "but...it's not right" the words scream in his head, "but...it sure would feel good" - the reply comes. "Okay" he says to himself, "just this once and never again" but, will it be just once?.
The twelfth time it happens he is still struggling to convince himself "just this once and never again", but this time there is almost no resolve.

He might say "I give up,I can't fight it, it's the way I am, I just can't put an end to this".
He might say "I've got to get a grip on this or else I will loose the one I have".
He follows his first instincts and ruin surely follows.
He realises that having more than one maiden is a little less than a nightmare.
His world falls apart.
Trying to keep the maidens out of each others faces doesn't work.
His world falls apart.
He follows his second instincts and there is a ray of hope.
He realises that the maiden he chose is a gem.
He is peaceful.
He realises that he just might have made the wrong decision when choosing a maiden.
He has to live with the choice.
He realises that he can't live with this maiden and be happy.
He has to walk out and begin the process all over again or maybe never, it's complicated.

"There are three things that are too amazing for me, four that I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky,
the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a maiden."
King Solomon Proverbs 30:18-19

Communication class

Sam told me about Communication classes that were being held at school. They were not on the curriculum but students who were interested could attend. I thought that was fantastic because I'm seriously toying with the idea of going back to school for a Communication major.

I walked into the class and made myself comfortable. Not wanting to draw attention I carried along like I knew just what I was there for. That worked until the professor mentioned she was sending us the work for discussion over email.
Problem - the computers have student logs, I wasn't a student,I couldn't get to my yahoo account.
I walked up to the professor and gave myself away, "I'm not a student, I'm a partner..." for a while there she was speechless. She opened her mouth to speak but the words were not forth coming, I thought I was undone. I wasn't sure whether she was cross with me or she actually had trouble expressing herself.
She said I was welcome to stay but all the work was going to be on computer.
Ka-ching! I got the bright idea, called my dear husband and he gave me his password, that worked and I enjoyed the class.
As it turns out the professor wasn't cross with me, she had the same expressions even as she taught.

I thought it was going to be 'nuclear physics' seeing as she was teaching "Wharton" students, but it wasn't bad at all.
At times being around Wharton students can give you a 'complex' but the truth of the matter is they're just a simple, down to earth, brilliant, intelligent, well travelled group of people. The 'complex' is self inflicted (most times).

Happy Easter!