Dear Colin,
You turned 9 yesterday. I'm not sure how that happened, since you are--to me--still this guy.
You are still very much a fan of Oreos,
and your bum? I still want to bite it. I can't anymore. Well, I guess I could, but I don't. And that makes me sad. You're welcome, by the way.
So, anyway. You turned nine. And you said you felt taller. You ARE taller. Overnight, it seems. You have braces. And secrets with your friends. You look to me like your dad, but I feel a rush of satisfaction when people tell me, "oh, he's a looker like his Mama". For two reasons, of course. I am thrilled that you have my bluest eyes, and I am always stoked to hear I maybe still have it.
I realized that the last two posts were about your sister, so you were due.
Ahhhh...your sister. You, my friend, have patience with that girl that is commendable. You two are tight--remarkably so--and I pray that it lasts. You often play the "who's your favorite" thing with me, and I am always so relieved to be able to say that you both are. My favorite son, and my favorite daughter. It's a relief, because you-know-who would LOSE that particular little game at least twice a week.
But back to you. YOU? That stunt you pulled last week?
I flew to Kentucky to visit Uncle Scott, and it was not 4 hours after I left that I was in Chicago on my layover when my cell rang. You had SWALLOWED a Chuck E. Cheese token--on a dare from your sister, I hear?-- and were headed to the emergency room. I spoke with the ER folks, gave them insurance information & consent, and boarded my plane. I found out that you were the one who gave Grandpa Ben (babysitter's luck, right?!) turn-by-turn directions to Exeter Hospital---nicely done.
When I landed in Louisville, I turned on my phone to find out that Daddy & Grandma were in the car rushing to BOSTON to go meet you & Grandpa at Children's Hospital. It ended up that you had surgery--you monkey--and had to go under anesthesia and everything.
Wanna hear something funny? When the nurses were doing your pre-surgery history, they asked Daddy & Grandma if you had any allergies. They looked at each other, shook their heads, "umm...nope?". You spoke out from under your little blanket on the gurney..."penicillin". Whoops. You were right! Then, the nurses asked if you'd had any surgeries in the past. Daddy & Grandma exchange a look again..."ummm...nope?". One more time, as you are going under you said, "yeah. 2 surgeries. On my eyes.". I'm pretty sure the nurse decided maybe it was better just to ignore the "grown ups" in the room, and do your medical history with you, as you were clearly the one in charge!
I am so proud of you for handling things so well that night, Colin. People asked me if I had considered turning around at the airport to fly home to be with you. My HEART wanted to, of course. The thought of you with those big blue eyes full of nervous tears? Oh, ouch. But my head? My head knew that you, my friend, are a big boy. Beyond your years in many ways. Clearly able to handle things better than the adults involved, no? Those doctors did a number on you, for sure. You had a gash under your nose and they managed to knock one of your braces off your front teeth when they removed your tube. The gentle touch was a nice bonus---jerks.
Here are some things from your time at Children's. Why do you have these things you ask? A sock, your bracelets, discharge paperwork, the sticky round deals from the heart monitors, even some tube-looking thing that I am gonna guess you weren't supposed to steal? Well, you have them as souvenirs because Grandma grabbed them for me. You wanna know why? Because Mommy wasn't there, and Grandma looks at me through the same lens that I use to look at you. The one that makes our hearts feel all squeezey-tight when we don't know what else to do for our kids.
I'm grateful I have these things, Colin. I held them in my hands, closed my eyes, and said a prayer of gratitude that God allowed you--even though you were a MORON to take a dare from your sister--to avoid any injuries that could have been more serious.
You've started to spread your wings a bit. It was just this week that I said to your dad, all exasperated-like, "Who IS that kid?"!! You try as hard as you can to be naughty, but it's funny. I only have to say, "Colin, you're better than that.". And you always smile, look at the floor and say, "I know.". Even when you try to decide to assert your little independence, it is always a matter of MOMENTS before you are back in my arms begging forgiveness and giving me that squinty smile that your Dad has always remarked is something I do, too.
You've developed an actual SKILL LEVEL in basketball, too! You decided, clearly on purpose, that you were going to learn to play about 2 months ago. Up went the hoop, out came the ball, and you spent HOURS in the driveway just practicing. Shooting over and over and over. Dribbling, blowing it, chasing the ball down the hill, getting it back, dribbling it again, losing it again...over and over. Your patience is admirable. It paid off here, too. Playing basketball with Noah & Caleb is now singularly your FAVORITE activity.
So, in that vein, I took you to your first Celtics game on Tuesday. We got some serious bang for our buck (don't tell Daddy just how many bucks--he can't handle it--), Colin. It was not only the Playoffs, but they sealed the deal and advanced to the next round that night! We had great seats, and you were HYSTERICAL. It was a special night, Colin, and has moved a couple of other things down the list and now has the top honor of my FAVORITE time with you...ever.
You took it all in, got a handle on the situation, then LET LOOSE. I've never heard you scream so loud, seen you on your feet with your fists pumping like that, been quite that embarrassed by your dancing, WOW. You lived every moment of that night to the fullest.
Here's a picture of your two favorite players, Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett.
And here, because this is my blog, and I can...is a picture of MY favorite player, Ray Allen. He's a cutie. Oh, and a decent basketball player.
I wanna wrap this up by telling you one more thing. I got you a jersey to wear to the game that night. I thought long and hard about it, and decided on Kevin Garnett's #5. I was so excited to give it to you, and handed you the package the morning of the game. You opened it, looked disappointed, and then sulked around for a half an hour. I was hurt, upset, and surprised by your reaction. It was one of those, "really? Who is this kid?" moments. You had retreated to your room to be all not happy, and I got on the computer to check my email. I bounced over to your email to check up on your activity there, and found an email exchange between you and your friend Noah. It was time stamped about an hour before you had opened your Garnett jersey from me. It was an email from you to Noah telling him how much you hope hope hoped you were going to get a Paul Pierce jersey at the Celtics game. You couldn't wait. He was your favorite player, and on and on and on.
My heart sank. I had done it. The one thing that I swore I'd NEVER do to my kids...I'd blown a gift. I apparently knew nothing about anything, and had broken your heart by giving you the wrong jersey.
But you know what Colin? You rallied. You had a talk with your Dad about gratitude and some other stuff, and you rallied. Without being told, you found me in the living room, crawled into my lap, buried your head in my shoulder, and apologized. That was enough, Colin.
But you know what else? You know what makes you YOU? You didn't just swallow your disappointment. You spent the entire night showing me how great Kevin Garnett is, and how RIGHT I got the call when I bought that jersey. You pointed out that it was HIS face on the program we bought, that there were more #5 jerseys in the arena than Pierce's #34, and that he couldn't be TOUCHED in free throws that night. You looked at me in the parking lot as we started our trip home and said, "Mom? Thanks for tonight. I didn't even KNOW it could be that great! And Mom? I'm never taking off this jersey.".
And you haven't, as a matter of fact. I am going to have to sneak it into the laundry while we are at church tomorrow.
I love you, Colin. Happy Birthday.
Love, Mom
