Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

Friday, March 8, 2013

A conversation with Bode



Dear Bode,
Last night, we had the longest and most interesting talk we've had together in all of your four years.  We were reading in my bed like we always do, with you, Gianna and Nico in PJs.  I had just finished a book, "The Berenstain Bears Go on Vacation," and I was wrapping up for bed.  Out of the blue, you said, "I am very scared of sharks."  I paused, and quickly tried to find the "right" answer to this simple declaration.  I took a deep breath and agreed that sharks are pretty scary, and that I'm afraid of them, too.  Then I explained that we don't really have to worry about running into sharks, because they live deep in the ocean.  We talked at length about sharks, what they eat (people! you said) and how we could protect ourselves against sharks (live on land, visit the ocean in a submarine! I suggested).
You said, "I would be okay as long as I was with my family."  I agreed and said that we would be together.  This sparked another topic.  You shook your head and said, "No Mommy, remember that one time when I was very, very little, and you left me?"  Internally, I had alarms going off in my head. "When had I ever left him alone?" I wondered. I worried about permanent damage, scarring to your psyche.   I asked for clues. You said that you were walking up a very big hill and that I had walked off and left you. "Impossible!" I shouted gleefully.  No, you said, you left me ("you reft me") and "I was very scared." I thought a minute. "Was this in California?" I asked, thinking of all the big hills we walked in California. You shook your head No.  I tried to establish a timeframe.  "Was Gianna there?" I asked.  You looked off into the distance, as if the answer would appear in the air.  "Yes..." you said hesitantly "and Nico was in your belly."  I thought about this for a few minutes. Coming up with no scenarios where I had left you, I dismissed it with "It must have been a dream, baby. I would never leave you." You became upset and insisting, "You did,  you reft me arone and I was scared. I was calling for you but you would not hear me."  I thought about how scary this must have been for you. I hoped that it had just been a quick bad dream. But obviously it left an impression in your mind.
Then, you quickly shifted gears.  "Is it dark in your tummy?"  I blinked. What were we talking about again? Oh, is this a new subject? I told you that I didn't know for sure, but I thought it must be.  "Is it scary?" you asked. I thought of pregnancy. "Oh, are you talking about Nico?" I asked.  Yes, you were talking about Nico.  I explained that it wasn't scary because that is all you know as a baby. It's warm and hopefully, peaceful.  "But is it dark?" you asked. I said that I thought it depended on whether it was dark or light, depending on if I had on clothes, etc.  Then you made a face and said, "But it's yucky in there, right. All that food..."  I explained that Nico was in a different part of my tummy. It wasn't yucky (we have talked about food and digestion/waste) but it was probably noisy.  "Are there fun things in there?" you asked. I suppressed a giggle, thinking of a toy box loaded with "fun things" for a developing embryo to play with.  I replied that I didn't know. Then I had an idea. "You know what is in there?" "What," you asked.  "Water!" I smiled "It's like swimming. So it can be fun."  You thought about this and insisted that it's probably yucky in there, too. I pointed at Nico and said, "But look at Nico. He came out okay, right. So I think he was okay in there. And you were, too. And so was Gianna."  We talked a little bit more about my belly and how you "popped out" (your words) a long ("rong") time ago. You said, "I want to have a rook in there again. Can I rook in there?"  I explained that you probably couldn't look in my tummy. You became upset, insisting that you wanted to know what it's like.  Seeing no resolution to this request, I suggested that we go to bed. "You know what," I said, "I really enjoyed this conversation." Then I sat for a minute and stared at you. Your eyes were clear and light and a smile played on your lips while you talked. Your sister and brother were there, but it was almost like we were alone in the room, having our own private conversation. And I had this thought, "This little guy is growing up. This is our first real conversation and I never want to forget it."  I looked over at my phone on the nightstand, and considered reaching for it.  I could record the rest of this conversation. But then, I didn't want to break the spell. I left the phone alone and put all my focus on you. 
So that is why I am writing it down now. I wish I could record everything word for word. I wish I would remember this  conversation forever, as well as how you looked at that time.
I sat there, wanting to continue our conversation, but knowing that I needed to get your sister and  brother to bed.  I would love to know, if we could have sat there, just the two of us, how long we would have talked and what things we would have said.
I'm so looking forward to more thoughtful conversations with my big boy.
I love you.
Mommy
xo

Monday, December 3, 2012

First...father-son trip!



RWF and Bode went on their first father-son trip.  They went to Beaver Creek, CO to attend the Audi Birds of Prey.

They left on Wednesday morning. I was, quite frankly, shocked that it was actually happening.  One, I couldn't believe that I had agreed to this little adventure. And two, since RWF has been traveling so much for work, I honestly thought (hoped?) that he would not have the energy to fly across the country with his 4 year old son for a quick vacation.

But leave they did.  And the first photo RWF sent me was a snap of Bode inside the airport Starbucks. And a sob traveled up my throat when I saw my sweet boy's big eyes peering back at me. He was  holding a clear plastic container of milk in his hands, with a big green straw in his lips.   "What have I done?" I thought.  I proceeded to worry about all the things that could go wrong, all the things that RWF may not interpret from Bode correctly (i.e. to "our" way of doing things), all the rushing, all the forgetting to feed and sleep and pee/poo, etc. etc.  

Honestly, I trust RWF completely.  He is a great dad, and he is, if I am completely honest, much more patient and "reads" Bode better than I do. 

RWF called me several times on the way. But it was when they first got into their hotel room that it sunk in: they are really gone. RWF asked, "Which bed do you want, Bode?" and I heard Bode exclaim, "This one!" Despite the long day of travel, I heard joy in Bode's voice. 

Why did I do it? Why did I let them jet off across the country together?  Because it is important to RWF to have this time with Bode. Because it is special that they do this together. Because these memories are for the two of them. Because there are a dozen reasons to do it, and only one not to (selfish, scared me).

They had a great time. They rode on airplanes. They ate snacks. They saw the sunshine, the snow, the people, and some world class ski races. They hung out in their hotel room.They ordered room service.  They played at a park. They traveled (well) together.

And most important of all, Bode got to spend time with his dad, all by himself. He got his dad's undivided time and attention for 3 whole days while taking a very special trip. And hopefully, he will remember this trip forever.  And even if he doesn't, I will remind him of it for as long as I am able to.  Because Bode is a very lucky boy to have RWF as his daddy.  And I am very lucky to have RWF as my partner and father to my children.
xo