Day 426
52 People I Love
We celebrated Shane's 21st birthday today. I cannot even believe I'm writing those words. I remember it like it was yesterday. My sister and I laying in bed together. My parents with the biggest, most joyful smiles I've ever seen on their faces. Their words hard to accept as our new reality, hard to determine if we were still dreaming. "Mom's having a baby! She's having a baby!" I remember his nursery like I just walked out of it. His crib. His changing table. His clothes. His toys. The way he looked like the sweetest bundle of baby boy I had ever seen in my entire life. His toothless smiles. The way it felt to cuddle with him in bed when he was a toddler. The smell of his hair when he was sweaty. I loved it. I would put my entire face in his sweaty hair and take deep breaths. Honestly, it was one of the best smells I've ever smelled. I remember the absolute best Christmas I've ever had in my entire life. The one when Shane was about three or four. It was the sweetest Christmas. My most memorable. I've never seen so much joy on a child's face before. With each gift he opened, he would exclaim, "wow...just what I wanted for Chris-mas!" "Co-oo-ool! Just what I wanted for Chris-mas!!!" It was amazing. And now? Now our Shane is 21. Now, he's a man. And I couldn't be prouder of the person he is. There isn't another who could have completed our family the way he did.
When I was driving over to Patty's house today for Shane's party, one of my favorite songs came on the radio. "Mine would be you," by Blake Shelton. It's a country song, so of course it's a song about love, and love lost. But mostly, love. And even though he's signing about a girl, when I hear it, I think of so many people. I think of Matt. I think of my kids. I think of my family. And I think of my brother. Especially the words, "mine would be you." Let me explain...
One of Addy's favorite movies is Tangled. And like most movies about damsels in distress, it involves a romantic scene. In Tangled, the scene goes like this:
This is what Addy said to Matt and I the other day, "Dada and Addy are going to go in a boat, and Mama and Tobin are going to stay home. It's just for Addy and Dada. And we're going to watch the lights together." Of course Matt and I thought it was the sweetest thing we had ever heard. She is so innocent. She has no idea that there are different types of love. She has no idea that there is a difference between romantic love, and love between a father and a daughter. She only knows, love.
So there I was, driving to Patty's this afternoon, listening to my favorite song, thinking about Shane. I remembered how I felt when he was born. Like fifty Christmases all rolled into one. Like just happening upon fifty buckets of unopened Halloween candy. Like being told we had a snow day. Like the last day of school. Like ice cream at the beach on vacation. He was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And much like Addy, when I was a child, and Shane was born, there was only love. And loving Shane was the first time I can remember that the words below would have made any kind of sense to me:
If I have to choose,
My best day ever,
My finest hour,
My wildest dream come true,
Mine would be you.
Thankful for Shane. He amazes me. He's incredibly smart. Truly, a brilliant mind. He has a kind heart. He has a good head on his shoulders. He's incredibly fun. And silly. And he kind of gets overlooked. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he's easy-going. Laid back. He doesn't fret much about things. He's basically the opposite of me. I'm not sure why people forget about him. But they shouldn't. They're missing out on an incredible person. And even though he doesn't read my blog posts at all, if he did happen upon this post one day, I would hope that he would know how much I love him. I would hope he would know what he has meant for our family. I would want him to know that he completed us. He made us whole. And I would want him to know that if I had to choose my best day ever, my finest hour, my wildest dream come true? Mine would be you, Shane.
52 Kind Things
Well, it has been pretty hard to do extravagant things with a limited budget, and as a stay at home mom. I keep finding myself thinking...you can't post that, it's like posting that you threw some pennies out the window hoping that they would get picked up by someone who needed them. I've been kind of getting down on myself about this little side project of mine for the past few weeks. But the thing is, I'm not doing this little project to do extravagant things. I'm doing this project to do kind things. And even the smallest kind thing, even smiling at a stranger...well, that's kind, isn't it? Being kind isn't about recognition. It isn't about being thanked. It isn't even about me. It's about others. This week, I took a lesson in kindness from someone I used to go to high school with. His name was Cornelius. And he loved to hold doors for people. If it was you and him walking up to a door, he would do an all out sprint to get to the door before you. Just to hold it open. Just to open the door, and allow you to go first. He would often stand at the door, holding it open for dozens of students. Most of whom would just walk in and go about business as usual. And I'm sorry to say, maybe even I did that. Most times, I thanked him, I think. But maybe sometimes, I was to busy. Or maybe, it sickens me to say, sometimes, I was too cool to say thank you to Cornelius. I never treated him badly. I would talk with him. I was his friend. But maybe sometimes, I overlooked him. I overlooked how unbelievably sweet and amazing he was. I overlooked that despite the fact that he held the door open for countless people, and despite the fact that he probably didn't get thanked for it, or recognized for it, he still did it. He didn't stop doing his kind thing. So, I decided to be like him this week. I held doors open. It wasn't big. It wasn't extravagant. It was kind. Glad I had Cornelius' example to draw on all these many years later. I've found myself wondering about him this past week. And if I could see him today, I would thank him. I would thank him for his kindness, and for his amazing example of love for others.
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