HIS FINEST WHISPERS

It was Tuesday, March 8, 2011, my first full day alone with Wesley as a tiny baby. He was 15 days old. I can recall that specific evening with much ease. I had just given Wes a lavender bath (thank you Johnson and Johnson), had swaddled him up tightly (I miss that little glow worm) and I was quietly rocking him. There is something dearly sweet in rocking a newborn to sleep (as long as they actually go to sleep and they’re not wailing their head off).  As I watched the sun go down through his window and the darkness began to set in, that sweet feeling very quickly turned to an unfamiliar mother’s unrest. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. There I was, brand new, no idea what I was doing, and it was my first day to be a mom completely on my own. It sounds silly, but I actually think I began to panic at that realization. This next part sounds even more irrational as I write it down, but my mind began to race that night and I began to feel really unnerved thinking about someone gett...

This JUST happened. So, about an hour ago, the doorbell rang at my parent’s house. Wes went to get it. I didn’t hear him come back in, so I went to check on him. The front door was cracked open about an inch and as I swung it open a little wider, I saw a large box on the porch…but then, I also saw a FedEx man bounding through our front yard, running for dear life back to his truck. Why, you ask?  Because my 6 year old was racing after him, right on his tail, rapidly firing shots at him with his brand new Nerf gun. Yes, this is my real life and that is really what just happened. There. Are. No. Words. Happy Thanksgiving from us, Mr. FedEx man. Here you are…trying to make a buck for your family and you have to run into unrefined, unpolished little boys who clearly haven’t been taught their manners. Good heavens. I looked down the road to see the poor soul down in the cul-de-sac turning around, understandably, so he could get the heck out of our neighborhood and away from all the outl...

My kid won’t ride a bike. He’ll jump off trees, swing from ropes, ride on zip lines hundreds of feet in the air across lakes without so much as a seat belt, he’ll laugh all through the iFly experience begging for more and he’ll ride every single adult ride they’ll let him on at Six Flags, but he WILL NOT RIDE A BIKE. I began this all American endeavor when he was only 3. He was passed down a balance bike from his cousins and the first time I tried to get him on it, he just kept saying, “No! No! I don’t want to. Please no.” I tried EVERYTHING. I even sunk low enough to exchange goods and services with him. If you will ride your bike, we can go together around the block. Won’t that be so fun? “No.” We could take your bike down to Pops and Honey’s house and ride it. Pops loves to ride his bike. “Nope.” We could take it to the nature trails and ride it with Charis and Drew. “Uh uh.” Then my mom, Honey, even tried to intervene. “Guess what? Honey will buy you a new bike if you learn to ride...

Monday, November 13, 2017 6:45 – I drag Wesley out of bed because he didn’t wake up bright and cheery at 6:15 am like he did on the WEEKEND, BOTH Saturday and Sunday morning. 7:00 – Wesley can’t find his uniform shoes. I scold Wes. 7:10 – I can’t find my keys. I feel guilty for scolding Wes. 7:15 – I walk out to the car to realize the keys have been left in the driver’s side door all night long. I huff. 7:20 – Wes and I leave for school late. I puff. 7:21 – Wes finds uniform shoes in the car and proceeds to change from regular shoes to his uniform shoes while still wearing a seat belt. 7:30 – Wes and I exit the vehicle at CCA. Wes proceeds to say, “I left my lunch and my snack at home on the kitchen table.” I roll my eyes and let out a big, grumpy sigh. 9:15 – Wes comes into my classroom (while my class is gone) looking for a snack (since he forgot his at home), only to find that the emergency stash I normally keep for him is completely ...

Wes told my mom the other day that the garage was a “wrecking mess”. I’m not even sure what he meant to say, but that was obviously not it. It did take me back to several of my childhood (or maybe also adulthood) misheard lyrics and phrases. As a kid, I remember hearing a fun little ditty in my dad’s truck and I would mainly sing it out because of its catchy tune. It went like this, “Secret Asian man, secret Asian man!” After all,  it makes complete sense people. Lots of Asian men are secret spies. Do you know Jackie Chan? Jet Li?   Bruce Lee? C’mon, we all know them.  Do we not see the massive connection here? This song is talking about a spy from Asia. Yes, of course it is. I felt rather disgruntled when I found that Johnny Rivers had originally written it, “Secret agent man, secret agent man”. Way to let a 10 year old down man! I’ll be honest, having to accept my version as erroneous, the song at best, has lost a bit of its initial value in my heart. T...

Just recently, I was reminded of my favorite prego brain moment. It was December and I was about 7 months pregnant. I was already stressed trying to have everything in order for Wesley’s arrival. As I’m leaving school one afternoon, I start up my car and a yellow light pops up onto the dashboard. Scared of driving it home due to previous explosions in my hood, (I blew up my engine in college due to the ignoring of a light) I sat in the car and decided to make a better and more adult decision this time. Immediately, I call the Saturn dealership. (Car issues can trigger me because I’m pretty sure demons live in the mechanisms of cars. The results of car trouble tend to be expensive and highly inconvenient. I can feel the frustration beginning to emerge, but I’m taking some deep breaths to counteract the upset.) Hello, this is Saturn. How can we make your day today? Yes, hi. I need help. This light has popped up on my dashboard and I don’t know if I...