Meet Me at the Fair

When I was younger, my family had season passes to Astroworld. And every summer we would get our money's worth in roller coasters, funnel cakes and photo souvenirs. I have really nice memories of going really fast or really high and getting so filled with adrenaline that I almost puked. I absolutely loved the thrill of being on the verge of having too much of something - whether it be too much speed or too many turns or one too many loop-de-loops. I liked that feeling of being slightly out of control. Of course I grew up to be a control freak, but a control freak who still loves a thrill. And while I remember lots of things about Astroworld, I don't really remember going to a fair when I was younger. I have seen them in movies and I know it is supposed to be a dizzying array of sights, sounds and smells. And as I have driven past parking lot carnivals in my adulthood, part of me still yearns to pull over and spin till I am dizzy. For that reason, and many others, I was delighted to look over and see a carnival on our way to Georgetown last week. This was not a shabby, shady carnival either. It was big and organized and the lights were shining and it was practically begging me to enter into its clutches.

So... we loaded up with Grammy and we went to the fair. Luke was enthralled the moment it was in eyesight. He was almost over-stimulated by all that the carnival had to offer. Still, we managed to ride everything that he met the height requirement for, some things twice. And I enjoyed every minute of riding those kid rides with him because I saw in his face a feeling that I recognized. He was enjoying the thrill.

There was a moment, when we got on the roller coaster, that I felt I might be pushing my two year old too far. But the ride started, we went over some hills and took a few curves and then I heard the wonderful sweetness of his laughter. He was loving it and I was loving how brave and reckless he was.

When you grow up it seems that there is so much to fear. There are a million reasons not to do this thing or that and they all lead back to fear. Fear of failure, of rejection, of not measuring up or looking like an idiot. There are so many things we don't do because we are afraid. So it was nice to look at him enjoying the moment without thinking twice. I envied him that ability to let go and enjoy.

It was fun and mommy even threw a few darts at balloons to win my son a cheap prize. Because what is a fair experience, after all, if there are no prizes won. And I certainly was living vicariously through him as I tried to give him the best carnival experience. You only get your first experience once and I wanted to make it a good one.

However, despite my best efforts Luke's favorite thing wasn't the rides or the prize he won... it was the $2 box of popcorn that we bought. Not only did he eat most of the box by himself, he carried it around with him as we walked through the carnival as if it was his most prized possession. I believe there were also some requests to take the popcorn on the rides with us.

And when we could manage to pry the box from his pudgy hands, the first thing out of his mouth when the ride was over was, " I want my popcorn". And days later, as we relayed the experience to my mom and dad, Luke remembered three things about the carnival: the carousel, the dragon and the beloved popcorn. Which brings me to another point: at what moment do we stop being so completely satisfied by something as small as a box of popcorn?

No Place Like Home

I love vacations. And in my short life as a mother, I have had only two vacations away from my child. I can admit that it is pretty refreshing to be duty-free for a little while without having hands tugging and two-year old tantrums over seemingly insignificant things. I enjoyed taking off my mommy-hat for a few days to go and do grown-up things that do not require diapers and cutting food in to tiny bits and lugging toys around to keep him entertained.

I went to Utah and I skied for three glorious days. I saw little children on the slopes and I was grateful that wasn't me. I encountered mothers in restaurants with screaming babies and I enjoyed my silent meal. But... even though my time away was sweet, there was nothing sweeter than reuniting with my son yesterday. In two short years, my life has been molded around this little guy in ways I never thought possible. And yes, it can be draining and overwhelming to be "mommy" to someone who depends on you to meet all their needs. But there is also no greater joy than scooping them up in your arms, after some time apart, and breathing in their sweet scent. I spent the evening smothering him with kisses and repeating the words "I love you", just because it was in my heart.

I did not know what to expect out of motherhood. I had hopes and dreams but I did not know how much I would miss his sweet chubby hands to hold (the last remnants of infancy) or the crazy cow-lick on the back of his head. I could not fathom how I would crave his wet kisses or his tiny voice saying "I want to hold you". These are simple treasures that I store in my heart and take with me when I am away. I am so fortunate that I can get away and go and do things to recharge my battery. But I am more fortunate that I have a little person who captivates me and who feels like home.

Giddy Up and Yee Haw!!!

This week is my Spring Break so I am off from both work and school. It is a treat, indeed. Luke and I were both sick last week and we weren't sure we were even going to make our trip to Austin. But he got over his fever right in time and we packed our bags and headed to visit his Grammy. After being cooped up in the house all week, it has been nice to be out and about. Luke was running a 103 degree fever for 3 days and we used that as an excuse to veg on the couch and watch movies. By Friday, he was more than a little anxious to get outside and have fun. So... we went to Wal Mart. He was very excited about going - mostly because he knew the chances of him getting a toy were very good. As we were getting dressed to leave, Luke decided to pick out his outfit. Usually he doesn't care what he wears and I just put him in something. But on this day, he cared. And since he had been sick, we let him have his way. Because of this, my mom and I ended up taking Sheriff Woody to Wal Mart.

Luke insisted on wearing the full ensemble - hat, vest and boots. He was a good cowboy and sat pleasantly in the cart for most of the trip. We got some looks and one lady said he had even made her day. I have been out before and seen a child shopping with their mom wearing a costume of some sort. And I would laugh to myself and think, "oh, how cute". But this was my first experience and I have to say that I still thought it was cute. Luke is forming his own opinions and gladly verbalizing them. I appreciate that so much because I remember not to long ago when all he could do was cry. Knowing what he wants and needs is so much better than having to guess. So, my cowboy did end up getting a toy.

And yes, it was a girl doll. But please don't judge me. It rounded out our Toy Story set and he just HAD to have her. Plus, real boys play with dolls.

Addendum

So, I last wrote about high school and how we have a like-hate relationship. Well, after further thought I have come to another theory that will lead to some more painful admissions. I am pretty obsessed with teen dramas. It goes beyond watching the CW, although I do very much appreciate the things it has to offer. I also love Twilight and Mean Girls and anything that has to do with the high school culture. I enjoy Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and all of the angst that goes with growing up and finding your own. I like first kisses and new loves and all of those first-time feeings. I always considered this to be relatively normal behavior (for a girl at least). And then I wrote that other blog about higth school and the counselor in me took notice. One thing led to another and the next thing I know I am assessing my life and deciding that I have a high-school complex. This is not scientific or based in any concrete evidence, it is just a gut feeling. It seems that maybe my high school days were not fulfilling enough for me. Maybe I didn't particpate enough in school spirit or try hard enough to "make friends". And now, I am stuck living my high school days through someone elses eyes. It is possible that I am watching and reading these teenage lives with such vigor and excitment because they make up for what I was lacking. These stories complete me. Not really. I think it all boils down to the fact that I never stopped to enjoy it. I wanted so badly to go through it that I did not look around. I had blinders on and I missed just being a teenager. My parents are pretty thrilled that I took that approach and for the most part so am I. Still, I don't even own a yearbook. Not one, in the four years I went to high school. For me it is just easier, and more fun, to watch the CW and all the dramatic and highly implausible situations those crazy kids get themselves into.

Go Back to High School!

Recently I watched the movie "Peggy Sue Got Married". In case you don't know, this is a movie about a woman who gets knocked unconscious at her ten year high school reunion only to wake up again back in high school. For me, this is my worst nightmare. I avoided my high school reunion like the plague. I was one of those people that did not peak until college. Therefore, my high school days are remembered as mere stepping stones. I was not popular or unpopular. I was an in-betweener. And what happens in the in between is that you coast through without anything major ever happening to you and without anyone ever noticing. I am not complaining, I liked having this status. I wasn't into parties or football games or making out in the halls. And furthermore, I sort of looked down my nose at those who did do those things. Let me remind you that it wasn't until college that I really let loose. I had friends, but they were few. Let me put it this way: I ate lunch with my younger sister and her friends, by choice, and enjoyed it. Even now I try to avoid going to places where I fear I will run into someone from high school. I want to avoid the awkward conversations and the pleasantries. The reason I am telling you all of this is because in some ways my high school days are revisiting me and I don't know how I feel about it. Through the marvels of Facebook I have made some contact with a few people that I was fond of in high school. And surprisingly, I have had a good time getting back in touch with these people. Remembering some of the better times has made me realize that perhaps I have chosen to focus on the negative of high school. I had some heartaches and some self-esteem issues and even a few embarrassing moments. But I did have some real friends during that time period who are still my friends today, ten years later. One of them is still my best friend.
There really is no point to this post, except that I am being reminded of my past in several ways right now and I am finding that this second look is offering a much different perspective. I am once again attending the church of my youth and I am seeing faces and people from another life entirely. I am getting reacquainted with old friends and discovering a new love for them. I feel like a different person completely from who I was in high school. Yet, when I realize how all of these great people were in my life then... I am so thankful for the path my life has taken. I have been a part of some incredible things and to have these people still around me, ten years later, as living scrapbooks of that is something really unique and wonderful.

I know I am getting wordy and I may be rambling a bit. But I am exhausted and it is 11:30 at night. I have been thinking of these things recently and I wanted to write them down. However, I am realizing that choosing this late hour to work on this task was maybe a mistake.