Tag Archives: Microblog Mondays

We Shared a Moment

On one of these long, schooI-less days, I got a rare cuddle from my teen daughter.  She lay with her head in the crook of my arm, the rest of her body sprawled on the couch. We were nose to nose, gazing into each others’ eyes, the way you don’t do often enough because that leads to a soul-to-soul connection, and that means you’re naked and supremely vulnerable.

Vulnerable isn’t an easy place for a teen girl or the mom of a teen girl to live in — or even visit very often.

I looked down at her face — oh, the perfection of her face! Her eyes clear and piercing, lips like they were the model for Cupid’s bow, skin flawless and radiant.

“You’re beautiful, Mama,” she said, mirroring my own thoughts about her.

Apparently she was checking out my skin, too. (My skin on the face that was pointed down toward her, I might add in my defense.) Still with an abundance of love in her voice and eyes, Tessa said,

“Wow. You’re really old.”

turntable record scratch

I was, at first, filled with shame that I’d had the bad sense to grow older. Shame makes me want to lash out, which would for sure ruin this moment of intimacy.

Instead, I took to heart what she said. I am really old, to her very young eyes. And it appears she does not carry the same judgment in saying so that I do in hearing so. I’ve lived on this planet — I’ve thrived on this planet — for a long time.  That’s not nothing; that’s not bad sense. In fact, my goal as her mom is that she do the same.

The love remained in my heart — for both of us.

~~~~~

This post is a part of #Microblog Mondays. What’s that? A post that is between 1 word to 8 sentences long [oops]. Head over to Stirrup Queens to join the fun.

Image courtesy graur rasvan ionut at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Sound clip courtesy luffie at FreeSound.org [cc 3.0]

Dexter Digest

I don’t post identifiable pix of my kids online, so I go a little bit crazy with our dog, Dexter. He’s having his 3rd birthday this month, and we’re closing in on a year since he’s been with us.

I love this boy.

Belly rubs are always good for a smile. #welltrainedhumans #dogsofintstagram

A photo posted by Lori Lavender Luz (@lavluz) on

  “Squirrel! You humans I will save from.” #ifDextercouldtalk  #squirrelhunting #upatree   A photo posted by Lori Lavender Luz (@lavluz) on

G’morning! Pay attention to MEEEEE! #totesadorbs

A photo posted by Lori Lavender Luz (@lavluz) on

Maybe we should have named him Thurston Howl the 3rd. #gilligansislandreference A video posted by Lori Lavender Luz (@lavluz) on

Every girl’s crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man. #dapper

A photo posted by Lori Lavender Luz (@lavluz) on

This post is a part of #Microblog Mondays. Whazzat? A post that is between 1 word to 8 sentences long. Head over to Stirrup Queens to join the fun.

Gingerbread Men

Liam was Reed’s first friend. They met when Reed was just 6 months old (Liam’s mom is in my Vino Support Group). They went to the same school for a few years and must have had ten thousand sword duels and gunfights over the years.

Boy friendshipLiam and Reed on the first day of school 2007

Then Reed switched schools and though the boys stayed friends, they were no longer connected at the hip.

Reed was so excited on Friday to unexpectedly see Liam at the cross-country meet he’d been training for. Liam was running too! The boys were thrilled to be sporting together again.

But Liam’s school is configured so that he would run as a middle-schooler. And Reed would run as an elementary-schooler — even though they are in the same grade.

Liam’s group went first, and no lie, Liam found the 1.5 race really tough, as evidenced by the chunks he blew just past the finish line, and his declaration to never ever run again.

Moments later, Reed was sucking wind in HIS race, albeit toward the front-ish of his heat. At about the one-mile mark, Reed passed his dad and me, indicating that he couldn’t breathe and that he might not be able to go on. I watched him falter as he turned a corner; then I lost sight of him.

Amid the chaos of thousands of colorfully-clad kids and their their parents mulling about, a recently-purged Liam spotted his friend.

Liam picked himself off the grass and bee-lined to Reed. Liam ran the rest of the race alongside my son, urging his friend to keep going. “Stay strong!” he’d say. “Hey Reed — I just barfed! You got this!” “Don’t worry! You can vomit when you get there!” “Almost there. Finish strong!”

Reed did finish. And he DID finish strong — first from his school and 14th from his heat (out of about 60).

I was so proud of both boys.

~~~~~

This post is a part of #Microblog Mondays. Whazzat? A post that is between 1 word to 8 sentences long [oops!]. Head over to Stirrup Queens to join the fun.