love is fragile at any age.

My son just wrapped up his first year of school. I'm officially the mother of a first grader...it's been a beautiful experience watching him learn and grow. I love watching him learn how to read especially. So serious. So determined. It's amazing. His school subjects aren't the only learning he's been doing this year. He has gained some pretty terrific friends. He's been learning about the pros and cons of hanging with older kids; with bigger kids and tougher kids. He's been hurt, he's seen success, he's found a few awesome kids to look up to. He's also been introduced to the idea of girls and love. He covers his eyes when people kiss and hug on TV but he never hesitates to tell me he loves me or give me a hug. The last week of school, Caden was invited to a classmate's birthday party. It was a girl...THE girl he's been talking about all year. At first, he told me that the rule of the party is that the birthday girl chose a boy and a girl who have to kiss (a little young, right-we played this game in fifth grade I think). Caden was to kiss the birthday girl. He told me this was top secret information. And that he told her he's never kissed a girl. When I said, "What about me?" he immediately replied that "that's different mom". Oh no, my son, at the tender age of six understands the difference between loving his mother and another girl! I had to take a moment to absorb this information. The party came and he was upset because another rule was that everyone was to go home and change out of their school uniforms and into their best clothes for the party. Keep in mind, it was ninety degrees that day and the wind was blowing at like 30 mph. I told him I wasn't driving an extra half hour to have him change and he freaked, but shortly got over it. There was no kissing at the party (sigh of relief by all). However, when I picked him up after the last day of school, he seemed down. Not only was this little girl moving many states away this summer, he had other news. The school had walked many blocks away to play at a park and have a sack lunch. On the way back, my son and this girl held hands (Caden has said many times how much he'll miss her). His friends gave him a hard time about loving this girl. Caden looked at me sadly and said, "Mom, just because we hold hands, that doesn't mean I'm in love with her. She's my friend and friends can hold hands." What a proud moment. I responded by telling him that showing affection or showing that you care for someone is never wrong. There's nothing wrong with holding hands with a friend. Especially one who is scared to move and worried about making new friends. She probably needed a good friend and I'm so glad that my son was there. I know I've said this a million times before...I have no doubt that my son will have his heart broken by a million girls over the years because he is SUCH a lover, but I would rather he have too big of a heart than not having one at all...

Maybe I'm not always wrong.

I've never been much of a gamer. As a kid we only owned Mario Brothers and Duck Hunter...and I'm not sure it was worth the money. When I got married and we found out we were going to have a baby, I promised that our children would live as we did. They would build forts, play ball, make up games and not sit in front of some gaming device all day long.

Well, my son is six and we just purchased a Wii. My change of heart was about winter and staying active indoors. It came with a dance game...that's really REALLY fun. So I was feeling pretty confident about our new gaming system.

That's were I screwed up. In my new-found gamer excitement, I purchased a game that has something like 20 different games to play. They range from table tennis to bowling to darts. And now my son begs me to play. From the moment he gets home from school until bath time. And he cries and flails around and screams like a youngster verging on the dreaded three's. When I (and yes, I realize we all become our parents at some point) tried to explain that when I was a kid we made up games and played by ourselves and were rarely entertained by our parents or some game device, he looked at me like I was speaking another language. He refused to play anything else or dig through his toys. And chose to sit and pout until bedtime.

I know this will pass. I know the games will get dull. But I never thought in a million years that at six years old, I would have to take games away or set limits on how much game time my children could have.

If only imagination came with a battery!

They're watching us just as closely...if not closer...than we are of them.

Much to my delight, my three year-old daughter is a girly-girl. The moment she gets home from day care, she strips down to her panties and goes in search of a dress worthy of dancing in. (Lately, this has led to her wearing a flower girl dress from earlier this summer...it was white at one time.)

She loves Barbies, which was one of my favorite pastimes as a young girl. We dance like it's going out of style. She loves to brush her hair and wear lipgloss. The list goes on.

But while I often feel she's so caught up in being a girl, I have more often been bit by her keen remembrance of what her mother says and how she acts.

Just this past week, I heard her following her daddy around the house as he was moving some heavy furniture. She would call after him, "You know you're going to hurt yourself," or "Let me go in front of you daddy," as she wedged herself between the wall and whatever it was that he was moving. As she gabbed-and crabbed-at him, she never once stopped to let him react. Class mommy move.

Another fine example occurred this morning shortly after we got home from church. I was crabby at her father already and grumbled the entire time I made HIM breakfast. While he searched the TV for an old Western, my daughter caught me calling him a lazy ass. For the next five minutes, she strolled in and out of the living room asking daddy if he was going to get off of his lazy ass...and by the way, mommy's the one who said it. Her brother and I ended up repeatedly asking her to stop using potty language.

While I do correct her for some of the behavior, I mostly find myself finding a corner of the house where I can smile or laugh for a moment at how wonderful it is to have the opportunity to see myself in someone else. No matter if she's learning good or bad traits, it's a pretty amazing feeling.

Their love is pretty darn great (as in the size)...

Last week school started back up for the second semester. It was bittersweet dropping my son off as we all enjoyed the extra time together (although the evenings got a little out of control). For whatever reason, I didn't just pull away from the curb after he hopped out. This time, I sat there for a few seconds to watch him with his friends. But instead of seeing them all freaking out about getting together after two weeks apart, I caught him looking back at me.

One thing you have to understand is that my son...my beloved first born...has these amazing eyes. Not only are they as large and round as his head, they are also the warmest shade of brown and surrounded by the longest, softest lashes I have ever seen. (Yes, I also realize I'll be paying for this as soon as he becomes interested in girls). So even after he gave me the usual "I love you too mom" smile when he hopped out of the van, he turned back a few steps in. I smiled, he grinned and it was like we shared this secret mother-son moment where all was right in the world. He's never been naughty and I've never screwed up as a parent.

Although we were 20 feet from one another at this point, I could feel his love and I'm pretty sure he could feel mine...and that's why I am so blessed to be a parent. There is nothing that even comes close to that feeling, and I'm certain there never will be.

We should never grow out of our silliness.

I've caught myself taking life too seriously on and off through my life. I always feel guilty the moment I realize how ridiculous I'm being. This night, my son was pretending to be a super strong wrestler...obviously ready for his pee-wee wrestling season to start. And my daughter, the ultimate copy-cat, was not very far behind. (I'm just hoping she grows out of wanting to wrestle!)

As they hollered about being tough and grunted and stomped around the living room for awhile, my husband caught their toughness on camera. Good thing it's difficult to stay too serious in this house for very long. Let's hope we're still laughing and being silly another thirty years from now.

Their love shines just as bright as ours.

I'm not sure what's gotten into me this week but Monday will be the third time I've visited my son's kindergarten class in seven days. I never know what to expect. The first visit was to listen to an author speak about a children's book she wrote. A book I've been wanting to buy and now want it even more.

The kids were fidgety the entire hour; I almost couldn't stand it. The teachers were obviously used to it. And while I went into the event believing my son would be embarrassed to have me there even though he begged me to go, he sat there, draped all across my lap through most of it. Held my hand the other part. I didn't mind at all. It was sweet and I wanted to squeeze him back but refrained until I said goodbye.

Today, I went to lunch with his class. Again, he had begged me to go and acted excited and nervous the whole time. He kept peeking around at the other kids to see how they would react and yet, you could tell he was on cloud 9. I think I smiled for that entire 30 minutes. I was so proud of my son. He's growing so quickly and is learning so much. He amazes me. But after we dumped our trays, he went and re-joined his friends and yelled out "Bye mom!" I turned, knelt down and asked for a hug. Keep in mind there were 13 kindergarten kids staring at us and a handful of other children and adults watching. He leaned the opposite direction. So I took the opportunity and squeezed him as hard as I could and as I planted a big kiss on the top of his head, I said, "Awe, are you embarrassed to hug your mom in front of your friends?" They all roared with laughter...it was pretty incredible.

I could see and feel his love today. There is absolutely nothing like it in the world. And I just hope that he could see and feel how much I love him. What a terrific memory...can't wait to do it again Monday!

Liar, liar...

I've busted my son lying to me a few times now. He tells me his room is tidy and I walk in to find the floor still covered in little cars and clothes. I ask a simple question and get some strange, obviously made up story in return. I've tried explaining right from wrong; used poor Santa Claus as a scare tactic; threatened to take away toys...all with no real sign of remorse or a single ounce of care.

But last night, he went too far. Or maybe it was just the first time his father witnessed a lie. Either way, it went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. All he had to do was eat a dinner roll. He had asked for it. Wanted butter on it. And then he tried saying that it was his sisters or some crazy thing. The next thing I know, his father is yelling and and carrying on...Caden's bawling and Cali just looks thoroughly confused.

I tried to step in an speak calmly. Try to negotiate a solution. I though I got through to Caden but received death stares from his father. Two minutes later, he was lying to me. Only I didn't know it. Instead, I took pity on him and felt his father went too far. I asked him to go apologize and maybe dad would change his mind about his punishment. He walked away only to return two minutes later to apologize to me for lying. His dad knew all along that I was lied to.

Now my blood was boiling and I was trying so hard to keep my emotions in check...following a bath, I sent him to bed. Sobbing, shuttering with sadness. My heart hurt for hurting him (although today I realize it didn't really phase him). I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Considered going in and laying with him in an attempt to reassure him that I love him and that I'm not mad, even though I was.

My lesson here was more for me. I truly believed that we were hard on Caden by making him go to bed early. I believed that his sobs were true torture. But reality is that he was tired. He was trying to play us. And I have a feeling his days of lying are not over.

So now I'm rethinking my strategy and wondering if we were in fact, too soft.