Things I Hope to Never Forget | Crackers Before Smiles
I can’t get this picture out of my mind. I keep returning to it, in all it’s imperfect glory. Their hair is a mess. The clothes are faded play clothes suitable for what they were doing–playing in dirt. Their smiles, endearing but ridiculous. I interrupted them in the middle of an impromptu cracker break. I don’t know where Mikey found the crackers. They are from when they were both sick in November, and I thought we had finished the package. But, there they were, eating crackers and happy enough with their pilfered treats to give me quasi smiles for the camera.
They looked so happy sitting there, eating their crackers. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they are looking more like brothers to me. I mean, they were always brothers, but before it was more like Mikey and the baby. Mikey and his baby brother. Mikey and Nicholas, my little boys.
But something about the way they were sitting there, Mikey talking about dinosaurs and Nicholas replying in incomprehensible gibberish, something about the way Nico’s collared shirt fit his toddler body catapulted me into the future 10 years and I saw them–both teenagers–sitting side by side talking about cars and girls and movies and, maybe if I am lucky, a dinosaur or two.
Isabella.
I’ve known Sonny since elementary school. We went to different high schools and lost touch–although we heard of each other’s goings on through friends. Sonny met the Mister long before I did when they were both working in restaurants. It was while working as a bouncer in the bar portion of a restaurant that Sonny met his wife, Viola, who I knew from high school. Viola knew the Mister because she and her friends would go into T.G.I. Fridays, where he bartended, after they got off work.
We didn’t officially all meet and become friends until Sonny called my dad who called the Mister who helped Sonny get a job at his company. Got that?
Sonny and Viola had there first set of twins 5 months after Mikey. Their second set of twins (yes, 2 sets of twins!) were born 11 days after Nico. We are decidedly outnumbered by children when we go out to eat, which is infrequent because we are all tired.
See that little one holding hands with Mr. Nico? That’s Isabella. Not too long after this picture she got what everyone thought was a stomach bug. Except it kept coming back. She’d be fine for a few days, and then suddenly she’d start vomiting again. After a couple of days, she’d be fine again.
Three weeks and several tests later, nothing. Until today, when she had an MRI and doctors found she has a bleed in her brain and needed to be rushed to the emergency room. I don’t know anything more than that, because that is all Sonny knew when he called. Bleed. Brain. Bad. Please pray for my little girl.
It’s been an hour and a half, and my phone is silent.
Would you do me a favor? I told Sonny I would pray for Isabella and tell everyone I know to do the same. Hello, everyone. Please do say a little prayer for my honey-haired girl. And if you don’t pray, we’ll take warm wishes or positive thoughts, too. Just leave a little comment here on this post when you do so I can show Sonny and Viola how many people are rooting for Isabella.
Thank you.
xoxo,
Jules
The Fine Artist
The teachers at Mikey’s school tell me often how gifted Mikey is when it comes to drawing. I have three theories regarding the nature of this praise.
- They are trying to cushion the “we think your child needs 7 years of preschool” blow with a few compliments tossed in here and there.
- Mikey attends school with the largest group of socially mature, yet artistically inept, preschool-aged children in southern California.
- Mikey knows his way around a pack of Crayolas and I should encourage his creative endeavors.
Of course I’m going with No. 3. It’s the option that fits best with my competitive nature and enormous ego. Besides, we have a few artists in the family, so if Mikey has talent he comes by it naturally. My brother is a video game designer (art! only animated! and with violence!) and my aunt is a fine artist in Argentina who spent a number of years in Italy restoring paintings for museums.
Oh, and one more reason I’m hanging my hat on No. 3? I have total and complete artist envy. Ever since I was a child, and still to this day, I wish I was artistically inclined. I suppose I can fight the passive voice and mend split infinitives as well as the next blogger, but what can I say? The grass is always greener and I wish I could draw. So to all you graphic designers out there: good job, keep up the good work, and try not to make it look so easy because I am totally jealous of your little mood boards and funny posters and cheeky Christmas cards you send out every year.
Back to Mikey. I had to take my mother-in-law had to the train station last night. I thought her 12+ hour ride would be more comfortable with a few snacks, and I asked Mikey to draw a picture of Gaga Pam on the snack bag. When I came back, this is what he handed me.
I know it doesn’t look like much, but for a 4-year old it’s pretty good, and for whatever reason, I completely fell in love with this little drawing. I didn’t want to give it to my mother-in-law. I wanted to hand on to it and frame it. Something about those bright white earrings slay me in a million little pieces. (You can click on it to make it larger)
Courtney from My Sunset Road (so talented!) suggested I immortalize it with embroidery, and that she too wants to embroider some of her children’s drawings. The only problem? We don’t know how to embroider, and I don’t even know how to transfer the pattern. Do I just use a light-box and use the picture as a color reference? I really want to try this. I have a family wall of pictures and love the idea of incorporating some embroidered portraits to the mix.
Any suggestions? Has anyone done this before with a modicum of success?
Things I Hope to Never Forget
A Mother’s Love
Mikey is the boy who greets everyone with a hug–whether they want one, or not.
Mikey is the little boy who brings dinosaurs to school to show his principal the difference between an Apatosaurus, a Tyranasaurus Rex, and a Spinosaurus. Then he’ll tell her how they lived in Center America and that’s where paleontologists can find their fossils.
Mikey is the little boy who knows the alphabet, can count forwards and backwards, and does simple addition and subtraction.
Mikey is also the little boy teachers are suggesting needs a third year of preschool. For all that academic heft, he’s a bit of a rascal. He is, as they say, immature for his age. He doesn’t sit still during reading circle time, loves to wrestle and put out imaginary fires, and if it wasn’t for his ability to hear the theme song to Lazy Town in the shower while the T.V. is set to mute, I would assume he is deaf. By the way, Lazy Town? Freakiest show ever.
Every afternoon I pick him up and ask his teacher how he did. And every afternoon she says, “He’s working on it!” Translation: you’re lucky your kid is cute and friendly.
Last year, Mikey did better as the year progressed. By the time the school year ended, his listening skills were much improved–enough so that I had high hopes for this year. Right now, they are all but dashed. I’m at a bit of a loss. He doesn’t have any problems listening at home. He behaves very well, minus a few typical 4 year old transgressions, and doesn’t give me half the problems I hear and see my friends experiencing with their own kids. There is just something that happens to Mikey when he gets around a group of kids that makes him, literally, devolve into some quasi-hominid.
I explained all of this to his teacher on Friday. She suggested I cut out most of his T.V. time and encourage him to play cards, board games, puzzles, etc. Sounds easy enough. She then suggested I tire him out by playing outside and going on bike rides. Again, that sounds easy enough. Then she suggested that maybe, just maybe, he needs to be around more kids his age. You know, so he can learn what is appropriate behavior (i.e., quit hugging everyone), not get so excited every time he sees someone his size, and basically chill out when among his peers. She suggested we socialize. That didn’t sound easy at all.
The Mister and I, we’re home people. As I have mentioned before, we don’t like big parties or crowds or organized clubs. We don’t even watch reality T.V.–that’s how averse we are to people we don’t know.
Mikey, on the other hand, loves to be around people. He greets strangers with a handshake and a smile. “Hi! My name is Mikey K. and I love dinosaurs.” He will play with anyone and lights up whenever he sees other children. He really is a people person.
So, on Friday, as I watched him run around the room with Benjamin putting out imaginary fires and then later hold Brooke’s hand while her mom and I walked towards our parked cars, I thought to myself that if Mikey needs to socialize and be around more kids, so be it. If he is happy, I am happy. And that’s when I realized they weren’t lying when they said there isn’t much a mom won’t do for her child.
