Wednesday, October 7, 2015


Every morning I get up around 5:30 a.m. to start my day. I have my breakfast and a giant cup of coffee. I read, or watch a TV show, or stare off into space and solve the problems of the world. It's my time.
Every once in a blue moon, one of my little cherubs intrudes on my "Me Time," but in a good way; in a way that pulls me back to the center.

Caderyn had a bad dream.
I listened to his heavy footsteps thud on the steps as he came upstairs. The door creaked, giving away his final hope for stealth.
"What's up Buddy?" I asked from my couch-fort. I typically bury myself in blankets while I wake up.
"I had a bad dream," he said with a heavy sigh. Even in the dark I could see the worry and strain on his face.
Most nights/early mornings, I will take him downstairs and tuck him back into bed. We typically talk about his dream and then I will reassure him everything is fine and I'm right there. But yesterday I pulled his groggy, lanky body into my couch-fort and cradled him. Caderyn so rarely snuggles anymore. He is so busy and moving all the time. He's one of those kids (typical kid) who, when he reads, will read in the most uncomfortable position. Upside down, his big feet and long legs sprawled up against the wall.
But yesterday his body relaxed into mine and I once again felt that connection shared by mother and child. I remembered being pregnant and sitting on the couch after work, feeling his strong demanding kicks from inside my belly. I remembered how special each movement felt and how much love each movement, jolt, jab, and hiccup echoed into my heart. Life these days seems pretty busy. Caderyn is growing like a weed. He has swimming, and science camp, and Cub Scouts. He has homework, and books to read, and friends to play with. Most days it feels like I'm just a fancy Uber driver who will cook you dinner and hold your hand when you cross the street.
But yesterday I felt so glorified in the fact that he just needed his mom. Mom makes the fears go away and talks you through them. And, when life seems incredibly dark and you can't separate the bad dreams from reality, Mom will hold you. She will tickle your back and place soft kisses on your head while breathing in the scent of his little boy head. Just the way she used to hold you at 3:00 a.m. after a feeding, and breathe in the rich smell of your baby head mixed with milk. I remember doing that and thinking, "He is mine?! How did I get so lucky?"
And as we lay on the couch yesterday, the sun slowly starting to peek over the mountains; the darkness changing to the blue hue of dawn, I felt that same rush of love.
That same question flooded my heart.
"He is mine?! How did I get so lucky?"

Caderyn is a pretty amazing dude. Here is his update that I've been meaning to do for...probably six months.
Caderyn is six.
He is incredibly tall. He is the tallest in his class. He is taller than kids who are older than him. He is taller than most second and third graders at his school.There are even a couple fifth and sixth graders that he is taller than. No joke.
He's lost a good amount of his baby teeth. The result is this adorably goofy smile that just lights up a room. He'll probably need braces, but for now I'm enjoying the brightness that gap-toothed smile brings.
He has a great belly laugh.
He still loves Legos. Though these days he has to compete with a bothersome little brother who only wants to do what his brother does, and plays with what his brother plays with.
He loves imagination play and has found a friend here that does the same.Listening to them play is hilarious and reminds me of that special connection you have with that one friend who is destined to become a "best friend."
He loves reading. LOVES. He devours books. We will go downstairs an hour after putting him to bed and discover him reading in bed. He recently acquired the first "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" and read it in two days. No joke.
He asks hundred of questions a day--that is not an exaggeration. And not just any questions, deep thoughtful questions that leave me speechless. Questions like: What is a soul? Do you get to eat in heaven? What would be in our body if we didn't have blood? What is beyond space?
I mean, seriously. My head hurts most days after listening to his barrage of questions.
He loves school. LOVES. He is doing amazing at his new school--we love the school as well.
He loves swimming. LOVES. He is having a blast on swim team and will be participating in his first ever swim meet next month.
He is always hungry.
He is stubborn and likes to be in charge.
He is quick to cry (working on that).
He is sweet and so incredibly helpful.
He is attentive to his younger brother 90 percent of the time. The other 10 percent he acts like a big brother who is annoyed with a little brother should act.
He still loves dinosaurs and still wants to be a paleontologist.
He loves listening to his Daddy tell stories and now likes to chime in and add his own twists to the stories. He will also crawl into bed with Gibby after we've already put them to bed and read to him or tell Gibby his own stories. I love laying next to the monitor and listening to his creativity.
He still loves having structure and knowing what we're doing. He's going to be a candidate for a planner--just like his mom.
He still has Tourettes. They ebb and flow depending on the situation. His movements with his hands were pretty over the top there right after we moved, but now they've calmed down a little. He usually does them when he's watching television or trying to sit still through a movie or a presentation. He's also been clearing his throat. That one grates on my nerves when you hear it over and over and over and over. I do my best to try and redirect him. It seems like I'm constantly trying to redirect him.
After we put him to bed, he barely waits five minutes before he's upstairs telling us he's having trouble going to sleep.  We've started using a "One Pass" system. He gets one pass to get out of bed (excluding bathroom trips and emergencies), and once he's used that pass he's not allowed out of bed again. So far so good.
And there you have it. Caderyn is six and he's fabulous. Nothing seems to get him down.

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