Watching Them Grow

My son Brad celebrated his 21st birthday last weekend. As we all gathered at his apartment to spend the day together, I had one of those "mom" moments. If you're a mother, you know the moment well. And if you're a mother of adult children, you know exactly the type of moment I'm talking about. The moment when you look at your adult son or daughter, and all you can think about are memories from their childhood.

As I watched Brad interacting with his girlfriend and his siblings, my eyes saw him as an adult while my brain pictured him pretending to be a fireman, dressed in a plastic red hat, yellow coat and rubber boots; playing Little League baseball; catching bugs in his little bug holder and setting them free minutes later; participating in children's choir; and shooting hoops on our driveway. I look at Matt and Becca, and find it difficult to believe that my oldest son is married. I see Matt dressed as a Ninja Turtle; assembling Lego projects; driving his battery-powered Jeep; catching his first fish; and getting into trouble at church camp for cow-tipping. My eyes move to Meghann, and I am so aware, as I am every time I look at her, that she is truly a beautiful girl. From birth, she had striking blue eyes and gorgeous blond hair. I remember her painting her name on her carpet with red nail polish; dressing like a princess; lining her stuffed animals up for "school"; learning to swim and dive in our neighbor's pool; and singing in choir concerts.

I'm happy to be in the place I am now with my adult children, part parent, part friend. There's nothing more fun for me than to spend time with them whether individually or all of them together. It is awesome to see my family growing through marriage and girlfriends and boyfriends. But, even as I type these words, I'm also aware of how quickly it seems my children have grown into adults. Only yesterday, they were at my feet playing, and today, they are each making their own way in the world.

I often think of the saying that a good parent gives their children roots and wings. My prayer is that my children always feel grounded in my love for them, and that they soar high above the clouds in their adventures through life. And I thank God for the gift of each of them ... every morning and every night ... thank you, Lord, for such precious gifts.

It's About Fun

Last week I attended a visitation for a dear friend who went to be with the Lord. Her name was Pauline, and she was 87 years old. The weekend before she passed, Pauline was out dancing. Yes, dancing. And the week before that, she was playing dominoes. Yes, dominoes.

I came to know Pauline several years ago through my dear friend Ann. My children walked to Ann's house every day after school and stayed with her until I picked them up after work. I've never met anyone who loved to play games more than Ann, except maybe her sister, Pauline. Those two old ladies would play games for hours and hours with my children. In fact, the kids absolutely loved it when Ann would have a "sleepover" for them, and they would stay up half the night playing canasta, marbles, Rook or Monopoly.

I've never been much of a game player, perhaps because I always felt that I had so many other things to do. If I didn't learn anything else from Ann and Pauline, I learned the importance of playing games with my children. Now, when we are all together, I'm the one who often suggests that we play a game. I put everything else aside, and I play with my adult children. I wouldn't take anything the world could give me for those times together ... the laughter, the competition, the conversation, the love that flows around a heated game of Scrabble or Sequence.

Ann left this world suddenly a few years ago from a brain aneurysm. She was only 67 years old and appeared to be in perfect health. The Christmas before she passed away in June, the kids and I took her shopping, then for dinner at a nice restaurant and to see A Christmas Carol. When we took her home that night, she said it was the most wonderful day, not because of the things we did, but because we were together. She said, "It's all about being together and having fun."

As I gazed at Pauline last week at her visitation, I noticed that her family had placed a domino in her hands. Not only did her family realize that Pauline loved to play and have fun, they wanted everyone who came to honor her that day to realize it, too. I couldn't help but smile and think that Ann and Pauline knew something spectacular, something that many of us miss in the hustle and bustle of our busy lives.

"It's all about being together and having fun."

Basketball Madness

My oldest son and his wife attend Kansas State University. My son Brad attends The University of Kansas. For those of you who don’t know, these schools are rivals – big, huge rivals down through their years of existence. For me as a mom, it’s a challenge to know which team to cheer for or which college “Mom” shirt to wear. Unless, of course, one those respective teams makes it into the Final Four of college basketball.

Tonight is the game that has the state of Kansas, and perhaps even the entire nation, talking. KU will play in the NCAA championship game, and at least one of my sons is beyond excited about it. This is Brad’s first year in college, and he is soaking up the entire experience of campus life during such a momentous occasion.

I must confess that I didn’t watch any of the games leading up to KU being in the Final Four of the NCAA tournament. I must confess that I rarely watch sports of any kind, save an occasional Kansas City Chiefs game. Granted, I was at every single sporting event that any of my three children participated in (along with countless concerts, plays and musicals), but that is altogether different than watching a group of people I don’t know play a sport I don’t really care about.

To prove how deep doth run a mother’s love, however, I watched the Final Four game last Saturday evening so that when my son called with his excited, out-of-breath question of, “Did you watch, Mom, did you watch?,” my reply could be, “Yes, yes, Brad, I did! And it was a great game!” And I fully intend to be on my couch at 8:00 tonight, remote in hand, popcorn on lap, watching a basketball game that, truthfully, means very little to me.

What means so very much to me is the excitement in my son’s voice as he experiences “school spirit” for the first time on a college level. My son matters to me, and what he loves and what is important to him matters to me. It’s quite simple really … I love Brad, therefore tonight, I love college basketball.

Rock Chalk, Jayhawk!

Coming Home

A couple of weekends ago, my little house became a flurry of activity. My son Matt, his wife Becca, her brother and his wife, my son Brad and his girlfriend arrived to join my daughter Meghann and I for some long overdue family time. It was the first chance for us to all be together since Christmas, when we spent five days together in Colorado. Also present that day were my three granddogs, Julie, Peanut and Andy, chasing each other and playing like the wild animals they truly are.

As I sat on the couch and listened to the conversations among these young adults, my mind couldn't help but race back to the days when they were young. Listening to Matt's wife tease him about resuming his role of "king" the minute he walked through my kitchen door caused me to recall times when he would take charge and direct his brother and sister to do their chores and help around the house. Brad's constant chattering sent my mind racing back to him sitting in the back seat of the car talking nonstop about fire engines, spotted dogs and trains. Hearing Meghann stand her ground and state her opinions with her brothers made me remember years of spirited discussions among my three children, often ending with the lament of, "The boys never agree with me, Mom."

The time together always passes too quickly, and after a few hours, the house returned to the quietness that is the life that Meghann and I now share. I've never told my sons, but I often fight back the tears as hugs and kisses accompany saying goodbye to them once again. It is part of the circle of life, watching your children grow up and move on to start their own lives. And it is good and right, and I'm very proud of the adults my children are becoming. The tears are tears of gratitude and thankfulness for our time together, for sons and a daughter-in-law and daughter who want to spend time with me, who love me, and who are beginning to take care of me as I took care of them for so many years.

And so I look forward to the next time we are together, laughing and sharing and playing. My heart is beating a little faster just thinking about the next time they all come home again.