ABC's to Mudslides, and Everything in Between...

I wish I could open this post with something that would snatch your attention and draw you in, giving you no choice but to hang on to every descriptive word I type, reading line after line after line, unable to stop.  I wish I had something so profound to tell you, that you would be forced to stop and think, laugh, smile, or cry.  I wish I had something to say that would stay with you all day and into the night, invading your dreams and the quietness of the night.  I wish I knew what to write, at this very moment, but I do not.  

I could write about summer, today being the first day of the season.  Our plans for swimming and barbecues, mini-vacations and daily adventures.  

I could write about the boys.... how Lucas can sing his ABC's from start to finish or how Nathan can feed himself an entire meal now.  How I no longer have to puree an array of vegetable, fruit, and soup concoctions and freeze them into little cubes. 

I could write about weaning, about how hard it is emotionally to let go of that connection with my son.  A little thought in the back of my mind that says "maybe he's my last baby" and I'm not ready for him to grow up yet.  Back to nursing in the middle of the night, and sleeping less, simply because that is our quiet time, and is the only time he will accept me over a bottle. 

or maybe this...

Standing in the checkout line of CVS yesterday, I looked at the conveyor belt.  

In front of me a young girl, I'm guessing seventeen, has a basket of cover girl makeup, sour patch kids, and spicy cheetos.  She looks young, shy, and naive.  A beautiful young woman dreaming of her future, or maybe just a summer of fun, a new boyfriend, or an escape to college in the fall.  

I find myself envying her innocence and freedom, remembering my own inner turmoil at such a young age.  

I glance behind me and glimpse another basket, and a whole other spectrum of the universe.  

An older man, guessing middle sixties, with a bottle of mudslide mix, some beef jerky, and a jar of peanuts.  

The innocence is gone.  The freedom is there but it is clouded over by alcohol, bills, and a large dose of reality.  Is he wondering what happened to his youth?  

I looked in my own basket.  Baby Q-tips.  Calamine lotion.  Red Bulls for Ryan.  A squirt gun and Diego gloves for Lucas.  Not bad, I thought, I may have lost my innocence, but I've grown into a wife, mother, and bill paying homeowner.  When I need innocence, I can look at the faces of the two most precious boys in the world.  When I need freedom, I can come to my computer and write, write, write.  And I can enjoy every second of my life, with or without the beef jerky and mudslides.