07-28-2010, 10:26 AM
This is the crap they print in the local newspaper. Can the paper get any worse?
http://www.timesunion.com/living/article...587263.php
When I held our first son, I knew nothing could compare with being a mom. I was amazed at the whole darn thing. The night we brought him home from the hospital, we slept with the bedroom and hall lights on.
My mom, a mother of seven, had flown in to help for a few days. The second night, she gently suggested we turn the lights out. I imagine she laughed herself to sleep at how clueless we were.
At the age of 5, this little guy started playing the piano by ear. If he couldn't find a piano, he'd play whatever was nearby. His little fingers silently plinked away as his head bobbed side to side.
Nineteen months later, our second son arrived and we moved from Pittsburgh out to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Still clueless, we drove in the heat of July without air conditioning. I kept glancing back at our newborn's little neck tilted to the side with beads of sweat under his tiny nose.
This son could run at 9 months. I never saw a child with so many bumps and bruises. At 3 years old, I'd frequently find him on the verge of tears after his "big" brother informed him, "You can't marry Mom. She is your mother!"
Sitting still in elementary school was beyond challenging for him, and I consistently got the call from his teachers by mid-October. One day I was leaving the school after dropping off yet another forgotten assignment when his health teacher stopped me in the hall.
"Mrs. Bonanno, I just wanted to tell you that the other day I handed something out to my 25 students, and your son was the only child who said 'thank you.' He's as polite as they come." (I wanted to hug that man!)
Almost three years later, our third son arrived. The doctor informed us there was a problem with our baby's heart and that he would need surgery. I felt a searing fear burn through my bones.
There is an inexplicable gift of wisdom and knowing that comes with being born less than perfect. This son has the gift and has been described countless times as "the most centered person I've ever met."
Two years after that, our fourth son was born. Whenever he was tired, he would climb into our arms and peacefully fall asleep. One afternoon he fell sound asleep in my husband's left arm on a trail horse in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. His body was roughly bouncing up and down, yet he slept soundly. To this day, he's still a great sleeper.
We are empty-nesters now. When our boys come home to visit, we are amazed at what they do and how they do it. I regret the time I wasted fretting over less-than-stellar report cards and detention notices.
I'm still generally clueless, but I've learned a lot from our boys: Finding what you're good at and getting really good at it, honoring people by treating them politely, walking through life with a sense of contentment in light of the fact that you are not perfect, and enjoying a good night's sleep, can go a long way to leading a happy life.
Nothing compares with being a mom. I guess I'll always be amazed at the whole darn thing.
http://www.timesunion.com/living/article...587263.php
When I held our first son, I knew nothing could compare with being a mom. I was amazed at the whole darn thing. The night we brought him home from the hospital, we slept with the bedroom and hall lights on.
My mom, a mother of seven, had flown in to help for a few days. The second night, she gently suggested we turn the lights out. I imagine she laughed herself to sleep at how clueless we were.
At the age of 5, this little guy started playing the piano by ear. If he couldn't find a piano, he'd play whatever was nearby. His little fingers silently plinked away as his head bobbed side to side.
Nineteen months later, our second son arrived and we moved from Pittsburgh out to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Still clueless, we drove in the heat of July without air conditioning. I kept glancing back at our newborn's little neck tilted to the side with beads of sweat under his tiny nose.
This son could run at 9 months. I never saw a child with so many bumps and bruises. At 3 years old, I'd frequently find him on the verge of tears after his "big" brother informed him, "You can't marry Mom. She is your mother!"
Sitting still in elementary school was beyond challenging for him, and I consistently got the call from his teachers by mid-October. One day I was leaving the school after dropping off yet another forgotten assignment when his health teacher stopped me in the hall.
"Mrs. Bonanno, I just wanted to tell you that the other day I handed something out to my 25 students, and your son was the only child who said 'thank you.' He's as polite as they come." (I wanted to hug that man!)
Almost three years later, our third son arrived. The doctor informed us there was a problem with our baby's heart and that he would need surgery. I felt a searing fear burn through my bones.
There is an inexplicable gift of wisdom and knowing that comes with being born less than perfect. This son has the gift and has been described countless times as "the most centered person I've ever met."
Two years after that, our fourth son was born. Whenever he was tired, he would climb into our arms and peacefully fall asleep. One afternoon he fell sound asleep in my husband's left arm on a trail horse in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. His body was roughly bouncing up and down, yet he slept soundly. To this day, he's still a great sleeper.
We are empty-nesters now. When our boys come home to visit, we are amazed at what they do and how they do it. I regret the time I wasted fretting over less-than-stellar report cards and detention notices.
I'm still generally clueless, but I've learned a lot from our boys: Finding what you're good at and getting really good at it, honoring people by treating them politely, walking through life with a sense of contentment in light of the fact that you are not perfect, and enjoying a good night's sleep, can go a long way to leading a happy life.
Nothing compares with being a mom. I guess I'll always be amazed at the whole darn thing.