Mendolonium

When I nurse Henry to sleep I feel a spectrum of emotions wash over me:  love for my sweet baby boy, amazement at his perfection, the relaxation of a quiet moment at the end of a hectic day, and a sense of peace that for this brief space of time Henry is completely happy and safe…

While I talk with the old man at the farmer’s market about his stroke and watch his fingers struggle to work I wonder what his mother would think.  When I see the man in tattered clothes standing on the freeway off-ramp begging for change I wonder where his mother is.  And when I go to the grocery store and run into the shoppers from the convalescent home buying microwave dinners I wonder when the last time was that their mama made them a home cooked meal.  I don’t worry overmuch about my children’s safety in the here and now:  we have all the appropriate outlet covers and cabinet latches installed, we never leave the kids alone, and we have a firm rule about holding-hands on the train platform.  But I often think about how I can keep them happy and safe as they grow up and eventually grow old.  It’s bad enough that someday some kid will tease them on the playground but what I wonder about most is how they will feel as “grown-ups”.  I want them to know that they are smart, amazing, special people regardless of whatever life throws at them.  The day will come when I won’t be able to be there for them:  it will start with days away at school, eventually lead to them moving out on their own, and finally one day I really won’t be around anymore.   So the question I ask myself is what can I do now to make sure that they have the strength, internally and externally, to stay happy and safe when I’m not there.  The only answer I’ve really come up with is to make sure that they truly believe that their parents love and value them and hope that the self-esteem that imparts will carry them through.  It’s hard to communicate to Thomas and Henry, at 2.5 years and four months old respectively, how very much I love the them.  I hug and kiss them as much as they will let me, tell them both “I love you” multiple times a day, get genuinely excited by their achievements, and help them try again when they fail.  I also write them both “stories”:  short essays giving them a snapshot of their lives (and how much I enjoy them) every few months.  Technology might also help me in my mission.  In addition to being a wonderful record and sounding board for me, I hope that in this blog the boys will see how much I have loved them and our lives together.

Someday Thomas and Henry won’t be little boys anymore but little old men.  I don’t want them to be the old man on the street corner or in the nursing home.  I want to give them happy memories, pages of stories to pass on to their children and grandchildren, and a big beautiful family that will take care of each other; cooking up “Mama Gina’s” recipes for them long after I am gone.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 2nd, 2009 at 11:14 pm and is filed under Theodore, Thomas. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.