I WISH I MAY, I WISH I MIGHT

Had an appointment with the orthopaedic doctor yesterday.  He's so good.  In fact, he's so good I drive 30 miles one way just to continue seeing him.  There are probably dozens if not hundreds of bone docs closer to me than he is, but believe it or not a thirty mile drive on my own with a trenta double nonfat soy latte and my iPod tunes blaring through the car speakers is occasionally a nice way to spend half an hour.  I sing along.  LOUDLY.  I nod my head toward my shoulder with the beat.  I thump on the steering wheel. I don't do it in the shower because there's always someone home when I take a shower. But.  In my Mommy Van headed toward the doctors appointment thirty miles away whilst everyone is either in school or at work, I am blissfully on my own.   I talk to myself,  work through problems.  Mondays, the one day I'm off, I'm joyously alone from 8:45am until 2:45pm.  I listen to the music I want,  I do the chores, errands, jobs I want in the order I want and the way I want to do them, telling myself that I'm an insanely intelligent person (maybe insanely is a lil stretch) and I have the ability to make fabulously educated and reasonable decisions.  A-L-O-N-E.

Then my pre pre-teen gets home. . . . and I am painfully aware I am not only not fabulously educated and reasonable, but neither am I intelligent - insanely or otherwise.  In fact, it's a wonder I can function whilst without him by my side to give me instruction (and grief) on how to make decisions.  Decisions like the quality with which is homework should be completed.  Like how much time he needs to spend outside getting exercise and fresh air in his lungs before he can even think about touching anything that has a plug, a screen, a joystick, a controller, or a keyboard.  Like how his bed should be made eeeeeeeeven though he's going to get back in it at bedtime which is hours and hours and hours too early for a human of his age.

I begin to pray for patience and wisdom.  I pray for only the right words to come out of my mouth, to be given the strength to ration my words and speak them using the cadence, the timbre, and the reverence of a righteous and tender Mother.  (I pray for control over my stink-eye too.  I swear sometimes it acts before I can stop it.)  As I'm praying I begin to think back to when I was a pre pre-teen and eventually I recall what a rebel I was for rules.  So I look over at him and smile and remind myself how much and how deeply I love this human man-child and how he is 89 pounds of wonderfulness all wrapped up into an individual that is going to light up the world and everyone he touches.  How he's going to set the world on fire.  Turn it on it's end.  Flip it upside down. Keep it impulsive.  Keep it peculiar.    Be the one we want to attach ourselves to because he's our whimsy.  I hope the world is ready.  It needs him so much.

Then I go pick up my teenager. .  .  and I am painfully aware I am not only not fabulously educated and reasonable, but neither am I intelligent - insanely or otherwise.  In fact, it's a wonder I can function whilst without him by my side to give me instruction (and grief) on   e-v-e-r-y   l-i-t-t-l-e   t-h-i-n-g.  For example.  Regardless of the fact that he has yet to even apply for his learners permit to drive, he can tell me exactly how to do it aaaaaand every little thing I do wrong while I'm driving him to wrestling practice.  Picking him up from wrestling practice.  Taking him to school.  Taking him to - you get the idea.

I begin to pray for patience and wisdom.  I pray for only the right words to come out of my mouth, to be given the strength to ration my words and speak them using the cadence, the timbre, and the reverence of a righteous and tender Mother.  I do the stink-eye prayer again too.  As I'm praying, I begin to think back to when I was a teen and eventually I remember what a rude know-it-all I was, so I look over at him and smile and remind myself how much and how deeply I love this human man-child and how he is 125 pounds of wonderfulness all wrapped up into an individual who is going to keep the world sane.  Keep it slow.  Patient.  Remind it of its reasonableness and simple, quiet happiness.  Be the one we want to attach ourselves to because he is our touchstone.  I hope the world is ready.  It needs him so much.

The last thing I do before I go upstairs to bed is soak the kitchen sink.  I stood at the sink looking out the window and what came to my mind next was without a doubt the best words my powerful, loving God has ever given me -  "I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.  Star light, star bright, I have two stars of yours tonight."

Thank you God for giving me these two stars to raise.  Help me do it in your light, your shadow, and with your guidance.
Signed,
Your big dummy Mom ;-)