Love hurts

Carson is in love. Her name is Brooke and she sits next to him in class. A few months ago we were listening to his favorite song, “Hey there Delilah” and he let out this big dramatic sigh. And just as serious as he could be he said, “when I first heard this song, that when I knew- I was in love.”

Since that time he has continued to share the trials and tribulations of love with me. When he brought home a “23” on a homework page, he explained that he was trying to do his work, but Brooke was staring at him and he just couldn’t concentrate. He asked me sometime later, “Mom, have you ever felt this way, you know, in love?” I explained that yes, I have in fact, known love as evidenced by my um, marriage to his father. He kinda thought about that for a minute and I could see that he had decided that no; I had no idea what he was talking about.

Luckily, Brooke loves him too, Rosalie said. Rosalie also said that Brooke plans on kissing him on the playground. Once I heard that I decided that Carson and I needed to talk about appropriate behavior for 6 year olds. And I believe that I made it abundantly clear, that at no point, will anyone be kissing anybody anywhere. After much discussion, Carson decided that he’s fine with not kissing, but he thinks he still will take her to the prom. Since I've got about 10 years before that becomes a pressing concern, I decided to save any discussions regarding dating until later.

Can you imagine the self discipline that it takes to have these conversations with a straight face? I have always told him that he can tell me anything because I am his mom. And so I am immensely honored that he chooses to share these little secrets with me. And because he is so darn serious about it all, I am equally serious in my answers to his questions. But, inside, well inside, I am giggling my head off. It’s so stinking cute I want to just scoop him up and smother him with hugs and kisses. But instead, I solemnly nod my head and agree that love is indeed, complicated.

Dobie thinks it is all ridiculous and that I should just tell him he is too young to be in love. What he fails to see is that Carson’s tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve comes directly from Dobie himself. Carson is Dobie in miniature. And I am not about to stomp out in the son what I so love about the father. So for now, we will continue to help Carson navigate his way through the rough water of young love.

You know, it was not so long ago when all Carson wanted to do was marry me. And as wierd as that was, it was alot easier to deal with than all of this other stuff.

Happy Mother's Day!!

• Here's to my best Mother's Day ever! This year my sweet son had his grandma take him to the Dollar Tree to pick me out something "really special". Today, I am the proud owner of a ceramic grizzly bear cub wearing a red bow tie.
• 
  Even though Grandma had cautioned him that a bear cub might not exactly go with my home's decor, he insisted that I would absolutely love it. He was right; I love it. I love it because I will never forget the look on his face when he presented it to me. He simply bubbled over with joy, anticipation, and love. He wiggled and bounced the entire time I unwrapped it, just dying for the "big reveal".
  
  Of course, once the bear was unwrapped and sufficiently admired, Carson had to find the perfect place to display this amazing piece of artistry. So for now, my new bear friend sits atop of my kitchen window ledge, for all to see.
  
  As for Dobie, he got the ever so subtle hint that I wanted a certain necklace when I downloaded the page from catalog, circled the one that I wanted, wrote down the store that sold it and left it for him to find. To my great surprise, I got exactly what I wanted. Sure beats the alternative of him feigning a reason to go off alone, wandering the mall for hours with no idea of what to get, calling my sister for ideas and coming home with something totally random.
  
  So, Happy Mother's Day to all. I hope that someday you know the joy of receiving your own ceramic grizzly bear cub or a bottle of perfume that was last popular in the 80's or really tacky piece of costume jewelry. It reminds us that sometimes the most imperfect gifts can show us the total perfection that is a child's love.
  
  
  

Zoo Trip Schmoo Trip

Eager to log in some much needed mommy points, I volunteered to go on the 1st grade's annual zoo trip. And what a trip it was. Four first graders, two video screens, two Nintendo DS's, one IPod and me. Thank you Jesus for technology. The boys snuggled in with all their techno-gear and nary a word did I hear for miles at a time. We arrived in record time, thanks to the handy-dandy navigation program on my phone and we met up with our group before the zoo even opened.

Once the boys were unplugged from their respective electronical devices, they began to show signs of life. They were pumped, they were ready, they wanted to get the party going. But not to the zoo. The only place those boys wanted to go was the gift shop. I couldn't convince them that seeing an actual tiger was way better than buying a tiny stuffed one.

When we finally did get on our zoo-way, I found out that corralling little boys is the functional equivalent of wrestling Jello. I never could quite keep them all together. One was a zoom aheader and another was a hanger backer. The other two were put on recon duty to gather whatever stray had wandered away. We did finally make it, intact, to 2:30. The boys then led the attack on their beloved gift shop. After 40 minutes of mulling over what forgettable crapola they were going to blow their money on, we got back on the road.

The trip back did not go smoothly. The boys were cranky and tired. They had skimped on buying food at lunchtime so that they would have enough money left for toys and so, they were also extremely hungry. I was stressed because we were the last to leave the zoo and I was afraid that the boys' parents were going to be mad if we got home late. So I really needed to get out of Ft. Worth as easily as I got in. No such luck.

My navigation system died, I got lost in the ghetto, I had to make three separate pee/snack stops, we hit 5:00 traffic and we got home three hours later than everyone else. By the time we got home I was a nervous wreck. I trudged home, collapsed into bed and vowed to get my mommy points at home from now on.