Talk About Rocks and Hard Places!

I can't decide if I'm:

A) The meanest mom ever, OR

B) A very loving mother who wants her child to feel inspired by possibility every single day.

See, there's this rock.

Much like his Momma, The Boy has a thing for collecting rocks.  Yesterday, he acquired this beauty somewhere at school.  He shared it with a classmate during recess and she returned it safely to him at the end of that break.  Cute, sweet, he's sharing and learning to trust others.  But the story doesn't end there.

The Boy and Classmate share some passion for adventure and possibility.  Upon her suggestion, he has been trying to find the treasure map secretly encoded on the surface of this rock for the past fifteen minutes.  He's carefully breathed on it.  He's given it a good bath.  He's held it up to the morning light.  I only see some really cool lines, but he thinks it might be part of the path for the treasure map.

At my core, I'm melting right now.  This is a magical age when anything can happen.  If you just believe hard enough, your dreams can come true.  It's wide-eyed wonder because everything clicks and there's SO much to learn and I just want him to be happy and optimistic and amazing forever.  It breaks my heart a little to know that at some point, solid realities will intervene and the magic won't be awe-inspiring.  He'll have to grow up; and worse, so will I.

That's not to say that I'm not mostly a grown up now.  I get the bills paid.  I get the people fed.  I keep CPS from knocking on our door.  I still seek out magic at every turn.  I pray for miracles and am truly thankful for ALL of my blessings.  Still, there's this one thing that NO ONE ever told me about parenting.  As he grows, I grow.  He has to learn how to survive and thrive as a human being -- the good and the bad -- and I have to let him.  I have to learn how to sit on my hands and watch the heartache develop and crush him.  I have to let him learn how to deal with it.  I can be there as support; to let him know that he's not alone, but he has to discover and develop the skills himself.

In this moment, I see that I have two options:

A) Start verbalizing (repeatedly, because he LOVES magic as much as I do) that it's just a rock; but we can find scientific reasons to love it, still. OR

B) While he's sleeping, I can try to paint a treasure map on this bugger and see what happens next.  Maybe we'll hunt for treasure in the backyard, because the map just happens to match it.  Maybe we find something amazing and have a memory of love to keep him going when he's a parent someday far from now.

I haven't decided, but it's going to be weighing heavy on my head and heart; even after I decide.

Maybe Clocks aren't everything.

It's almost a crying shame. Almost, but since there's too much to be happy about right now, I'll save the tears for another day.

Today, I am officially (by my standards, anyhow) fifty pounds less than I was JUST before the year began. I am one or two pounds shy of being able to say, "Hello, 180's! Where have you been?" Obviously, they took an extended vacation... and so did I. The last time I was 189.x lbs, I had been given the nod by my doctor that I was in fact pregnant with my son over four years ago. I tried to maintain that in the first trimester, knowing that it wasn't necessary to "eat for two" just yet. Morning sickness helped a bit, but the power of carbs to soothe a queasy tummy was stronger than my will power, and then I was a happy carbo camper from then on!... And, since I'm not trying to talk about ALL the weight I gained, I'll get back on my mental track.

Since I did have weight to lose (eventually) I started losing it. Fifty pounds is none-too-shabby. Soon, I'll celebrate by going out and getting a new pair of jeans; one size smaller. I'll even declare that new size to the world, once I've bought them (because I've already prepped the scrap page for my weight loss album)! Yes, I did. It's beautiful, too; just like I feel right now.

Until I go shopping, I've let my mind wander. When was the last time I was *this size*?... It had to be while I was pregnant...Which is why I have NO clothes to slip into until I do go shopping. It's also why I'm perplexed because I was *this size* wearing a specific pair of happy khaki's in my first trimester, but I could swear they are one size smaller still. So, what in hey-diddle-diddle did my body DO while I was pregnant?! If I could weigh this much and fit into smaller clothes...

Did my hips expand? (I know they do that)

Was I more muscle then? (I practically lived at the gym before learning I was pregnant)

.... Both are possible, aren't they? Both are also messing me up! What I haven't said yet, is that I used to be a walking clock. One could set their watches AND historical time lines by my body's actions and sizes. I was always predictable and perfectly mapped out. Now.... Well, in ways life is good and I choose to seek joy and sanity in those ways. However, in ways life is also one magnificent mess and I don't know if I'll ever figure out which way I'm supposed to stand again... much like I can't figure out exactly what size I'm supposed to be, simply by reading a scale. Everything that I just flat out KNEW is being called to question and I can't stand and say that it's all perfectly correct.

So, now, a lot like the clock near the front door, I'm kinda broken and in need of a little help. I don't know exactly where I'll find that help, but I've got a few starters in mind. I've also got a memory of a time when I finally just threw my hands in the air and said, "I give. I don't know it all. Help me to learn more while I take it all one step at a time."

Maybe a few of those first steps should be the most simple... Like out the door and to the mall to find a properly fitting pair of jeans, huh?