two stages of infancy.

Sitting in the den of my parent's home where I'd been so many times before, I was experiencing something any loving child hopes to never see: a crippled, shadow of the mother he once knew hobble across the room. That's exactly what I was witnessing, though. My dear mother, now bent and broken from the effects of bone cancer, uses every ounce of energy in her little body to simply stand up and walk across the room to go to the bathroom for a moment. The rest of her day is spent in a chair because she lacks the energy to do anything else. I think I'll go buy one of those t-shirts that says "cancer sucks."

Sitting in the den of my parent's home where I'd sat so many times before, I was experiencing something any loving mother hopes to see: a healthy, happy baby girl walking for the very first time. She was toddling along the same path her grandmother had shuffled a short time before; determined to reach her destination of the back door where she could look out and see the cat relaxing on the pool deck. I counted in my head as I was frozen watching this little everyday miracle take place in front of me... 15 steps, 18... then her two tiny hands hit the glass of the door where she exclaimed "CAT!"

I was as proud to see my Mama walk across the room without assistance as I was my daughter. What a strange feeling it is to have the same physical act bring about so very different emotions; heartbreak in one case, excitement and pride in another.

because I love her.

No one ever thought it would turn out this way... least of all me. That's the funny thing about life. It doesn't turn out the way you planned or expected. Little twists and turns happen to even the most controlled and disciplined lives.

Holland came home from the hospital on a sunny Wednesday afternoon and things haven't been the same since. Abby, my then 9 year old shih-tzu, was huddled under an azalea bush beside the pool retaining wall in the back yard. She wouldn't move. Then she spotted me and came out to find the one thing she never wanted to see, someone who would be more important for me to take care of than she was. Her personality never rebounded to where it was before. She seemed depressed and on several occasions I considered that finding a new home for her would be the best option for everyone involved; Abby may possibly find a way to be happier with someone new than she'd ever be with old me and the new munchkin. As I explored that option, people gave (unsolicited) advice and criticism more eagerly than they'd hand out Halloween candy. "I can't believe you'd even consider that... how selfish of you!" and "People like you make me sick... throwing away a part of your family because they're not convenient for you anymore!" It astounded me to hear people's inaccurate perceptions of what was prompting my actions. Still... part of me let their statements get to me and I halted my efforts. I was going to keep her -- it seemed the easier option and I wouldn't face condemnation for it. Plus, I didn't know how Abby would react to a new household.

Fast-forward a few months to Holland's quest for mobility. She began rolling everywhere... then crawling everywhere, and now she's walking everywhere. Ha... and Abby didn't think it could get any worse. One day, Abby was resting on the couch and Holland was "cruising' the furniture in the den. She was headed to where the dog was resting and Abby saw her coming. Instead of moving, Abby snapped at her. Contact wasn't made, but it was close enough and rough enough to get Holland's attention and to prompt me to fly up out of my seat, snatch Abby up and make it perfectly clear to her that behavior would NOT happen again. The situation was changing... now Abby's depression wasn't the only issue. She had just sent Holland a warning... one that I couldn't ignore.

Abby is with a new family now. They're people we know and they have one other shih tzu who is pampered and spoiled even more than I used to pamper and spoil Abby. she seems happy so far, and that makes me glad. I miss her very much, but know that I did the right thing.

Finding a new home for my treasured pet was neither selfish or convenient... it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-sacrifice. I'm grateful for the lesson I've learned through this situation, and hope that one day when I share it with my daughter, she'll benefit from it, too.

you make me this way.

It always astounds me to hear friends pay me compliments. I think that either they're crazy or I am... because I don't see myself the way they do. It just dawned on me after a wonderful compliment yesterday from my dear friend Charles that the reason he sees me as such a lovely person is because he makes me that way.

Here's my thought on this: Our friends are attracted to us for a reason... there is something in you that makes sense or is alluring to each individual friend. That friendship cultivates the bit or bits of you that were initally attractive, so those are the wonderful attributes that particular friend sees, enjoys and compliments.

I believe we are reflections of the beautiful gifts passed to us by our friends. We reflect loyalty with loyalty, honesty with honesty, kindness with kindness. Thank you for the beautiful gifts you've given me. Hopefully I can pass them on.

Why Did I Get Married?

Oprah has worn her welcome in my life; I'm tired of her. That's why it's surprising that I set my TiVo to record an episode of the Oprah show last week because of the topical promotion that I saw airing during one of the Olympic coverage commercial breaks: "Why Did I Get Married?" It ended up being a re-run of a show that was released when Tyler Perry's movie by the same title was about to be relased in theatres. Still... the show was not entirely about the movie.

The show: Four couples who had been married for different periods of time were brought on to talk about why they got married. One couple, married nearly 12 years got married at 23 because the woman was pregnant. They have 3 children now and say they keep their marriage alive with "hotel sex." What a lovely detail to broadcast on national television. Another couple was married for 1.5 years; both people were in their mid to early 40's. Because of their ages they had a baby right off the bat. Couple number 3 was married for 3 years, and went the 'modern-day' traditional route of date several years, get engaged, get married... and the last couple was made up of two divorcees who were 50+ and wanted companionship.

The main theme among all of the married people on that stage was, when you get down to it, they got married for companionship, fulfillment, a sense of "family," and other relationship cliches. Far too little of the show was dedicated to this topic. The rest was spent in meaningless banter with the movie's writer and stars (typical Oprah... reel you in with the promise of some meaning and fill the rest with useless fluff... like a purse on the shelf at a store... it looks GREAT with all that filler paper in it...).

It got me thinking... why did I get married? When I became pregnant with Holland, I was "congratulated" by an ex-boyfriend with this statement: "You've always wanted to get married and have a baby. I'm happy for you." Wow. The first thought that went through my head when he said that to me was "You don't know me at all! I'm so glad you're an EX!" ...I was surprised to become engaged when I did because I'd come to the decision that I wasn't interested in "pairing off;" that life would be simpler and possibly happier going the singles track like my sister and uncle have done. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified and a little sad; selfishly I wanted to wait a few more years before adding a munchkin to the picture, if we ever did at all.

There is, I believe, a deep need for most of we mere humans to pair up and find someone to love; caring for ourselves alone is not nearly as fulfilling as caring for someone else. If you are one of those with the deep-seeded need to take care of someone and be taken care of by someone, no "decision" to go-it-alone will stick. Eventually you will find your match.

So, why did I get married? For the typical relationship cliches... love, companionship, fulfillment and a sense of family. The same reasons people date, kiss, allow themselves to fall in love, have their hearts broken and try again.

...now, picking the right person to marry? Oh, that's another topic altogether...

the ONE person.

"How about this one, Leslie? I really think it would work." said the woman holding up a bottle of body wash.
Her teenage daughter looked back at her in disgust and huffed. "Like I already said, I don't want that one," Leslie loudly replied as she stormed away.

It was the second time I'd heard Leslie talk to her mother as if she were a lesser life form. I'd had enough.

"Excuse me," I quietly said to Leslie, who looked at me inquisitively. "I couldn't help but hear you and your mom."

"Yeah?" she answered as she put her fist on her hip that was cocked to the side.

I told her, "I live in Memphis. I'm here in Little Rock for a few days each week, off and on, because my Mama is in the hospital, fighting for her life. I'm in this drugstore to get a few items that might possibly bring her a little comfort."

After pausing to give Leslie a moment to respond, I continued, "I have a seven and a half month old daughter. As much as it breaks my heart, I know that someday, probably during her teenage years, she will most likely treat me poorly, but no matter what she does or what she says I will always be willing to lay down my own life for hers."

Leslie didn't seem to see where I was going with this. "In the last year, with the birth of my child and with my Mama being diagnosed with inoperable, incurable cancer, I've realized one thing: No matter who becomes your friend or lover, not even if you get married someday, will anyone ever be able to love you as much or as intensely as your mother."

By this time, Leslie's mother was listening to my quiet reprimand of her daughter. "Please, even if you think she's the dumbest person on the face of this planet, at least treat her with respect... especially in public. Remember, she's the only one who will love you no matter what."

Leslie may not realize the value of that lesson, but you possibly may. If not, might you know someone who would? If so, please pass this along.

Just five more minutes?

So many times in life I've asked for five more minutes. Most of those requests were made to my Mama.

"Girls, get out of the pool... it's time for dinner." Mama would instruct us.
"Just five more minutes?" Kate and I would respond.

"Turn off the TV. It's time for bed." Mama would command.

"Just five more minutes?" I'd beg.

"Wrap it up, girls... it's time for your bath!" Mama would say.
We dirty kids would answer in protest, "Just five more minutes... please?"

Mama's answer usually allowed us the extra time; she probably knew we'd ask for more time and adjusted her call to action accordingly so our request would match up with the time she really wanted us to change our activity.

Now I'm the Mama, but am still the one who wants just five more minutes.

Each night somewhere between seven o'clock and eight-thirty our bedtime routine for Holland begins: bath, tooth brushing (she has five, and yes, you're supposed to brush at this age), putting on pajamas, "last call"- her final milk of the day, and then down in her crib. It's a routine that we have down like a science; my favorite part is the next-to-last element. When she is all clean and is in a fresh sleeper, I sit in my rocking chair that is cozily tucked in a corner of her bedroom as my husband lowers her into my arms. I rock and feed her as she begins eagerly and then slows gradually as the moments tick by. I can feel her slip off into slumber and know that means it's time to lay her down... but each night as I drink in her scent and the feel of her little body pressed up against mine, I find myself begging for "just five more minutes."

I usually say yes.

Fortune Cookie

"Counting time is not as important as making time count."

He was only 27 hours old, and the tiny newborn’s mother graciously allowed me to hold him. So small and so helpless, but a whole person nonetheless, the little boy curled up close to my shoulder and nuzzled. I put my face down on the side of his miniature head and drank in the newborn smell. What a sweet experience. How fortunate I am to have a friend who trusts me with her brand new precious miracle.

Five and a half months ago, I was the new mother in the hospital bed and my friend who just entrusted her new baby boy to my arms held my precious baby girl. It seems like it was yesterday and at the same time seems like it was years ago.

Time, as time always does, has ticked by callously, giving and taking moments without pause. Those minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months are so significant.

I’ve spent much of my life counting time. Now, my days are spent making every second of time count because now, finally, I realize how precious and fleeting it is.