Mother’s Day
I’m a mom to a 6-year-old this Mother's Day, and I can hardly believe how big that is. Sebastian will be starting kindergarten this fall, which also seems unreal. He’s also big for his age, so he looks older. He wears a size 8 in clothes but fits more comfortably in size 10; his feet have rapidly grown to where he can walk around quite nicely in size 2 shoes. I won’t be surprised if he’s the next size up in sneakers by the summer. Once he’s in actual school, it’ll hit me how much of a big kid he is.
Our Summer
This summer has been one of change and growth. How appropriate during a new season, right? As I get older and the seasons on the East Coast dwindle to two–a long, cold winter with little to no snow and a short summer–I cling to those precious sunny, hot days where I can walk out in a t-shirt and shorts, carefree and happy, drinking in the sun rays while wearing my sunscreen, of course. Adulting is fun, isn’t it? Summer has become my favorite season because it only lasts a couple of months, so I miss it more. I also find myself drawn to the ocean. I don’t know how to swim, but now I see the beauty and power of the water. My childhood friend and I went to the beach for the weekend at the end of August, and I found such peace as the waves crashed over me. Even though summer can’t last forever, my family and I made the most of it, embracing the weekends and taking a week off from work in mid-July.
Our First ER Trip
I was in the kitchen washing dishes when I heard a loud crash followed by my son crying. It wasn’t the sort of cry that lasted only a moment meaning his injury was inconsequential; it was the kind of cry that meant he had hurt himself pretty good. For any parent your child getting hurt is a rational fear. After all you’ve been tenderly caring for them since they were an infant neurotically ensuring their safety and well-being. But when your child is non-verbal, which is the case for my 4-year-old son Sebastian, it’s a whole other level of worry.
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