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My Cue

I’ve been sitting here staring at this screen, trying to find the words to tell you about this week’s Small Moments Mondays guest poster.

There are so many things I could tell you about Rachel, who blogs over at Mommy Needs a Vacation.

I could tell you that she’s one of my dearest friends, that she’s kind, witty, and vivacious.

I could tell you that she’s supportive, encouraging, and true.

But that doesn’t even begin to express who she is and what she means to me.

She has become more like a sister to me than a friend and I am so incredibly grateful to have her in my life.

I love you, Rachel…so very much.  Thank you for sharing this small moment with us.

My Cue–by Rachel

As we pulled up to the familiar preschool, I looked back at Sadie who had a smile from ear to ear.

“Are you excited Sadie?” I asked her.

“Yes Mama! I am going to be a Polar Bear and Tyler is going to be a Blue Bird!!!” she squealed.

I knew this day would come.

The day that my little girl started Pre-K. The day she would absolutely love to go to school.

The day that my little boy would start preschool.

How did it arrive so quickly though?

I unloaded both kids from the car, handed them their lunches, and tousled their strands of blonde hair. We slowly made our way down the sidewalk into the school. Sadie, eager to see her new classroom, was running way ahead. Tyler, on the other hand, stopped to pick up sticks, point out the moon he could see in the bright blue sky, and inspect sprinkler heads in the lawn. Unlike Sadie, he had no idea what lay ahead of him.

Even though Sadie couldn’t wait to get inside her new classroom, once outside the door, she hung back, clinging to my leg. Although her face was still adorned with her breathtakingly beautiful smile, I could tell that even she was unsure of this new classroom experience.

As she made her way through the doorway, I saw her looking around, taking in all of that wondrous classroom magic.

Markers and paper.

Playdough.

The alphabet posters.

Her very own cubbie.

A friend from her class last year.

“Okay Sadie…have fun! I am going to take Tyler to his classroom now.” I told her.

She turned back towards me with that famous smile and squeezed me tight.

“I love you, Mama,” she said.

“I love you too, Sadie,” I replied.

In just a quick moment, my little girl had begun her last year of preschool, Pre-K.

As we left Sadie’s new classroom, I encouraged Tyler to keep walking with me but I could sense his frustration. Why hadn’t we gone to Sadie’s old classroom from last year that he knew so well? Where are we going now Mommy?

He stayed with me, although he lagged a little behind. He found a bug on the ground to poke, he admired a nearby cat.

As I approached his classroom, I looked back at him, encouraging him to join me. Now extremely frustrated, not knowing where we were going, he threw himself onto the ground in protest.

I scooped him up and was stunned by the weight of him. Not a baby anymore.

A big boy, starting preschool.

He snuggled into my neck as his arms and legs squeezed around my body. I could feel his fast, nervous breathing as I made my way into his classroom. I greeted the teachers who remembered Tyler as a 4 month old when Sadie had first started preschool in the same classroom.

“He is so big now! We are so excited to have him this year!” his teachers exclaimed.

Tyler, with his face still buried in my neck, began to moan the blues. I walked around the classroom telling him everything I could see, telling him how much fun he was going to have. Offering words of encouragement and love.

As soon as I approached the train table, I knew this would be the ticket for his comfort.

“Look Tyler! Look at all the choo-choo trains!!” I told him.

He jerked his head around, looked down and caught sight of all the choo-choo trains. He began to wriggle.

Wriggle out of my arms down onto the floor, standing right next to a giant train table filled with all of his favorite trains. He reached out, picked one up, and then looked up at me with that same big, beautiful smile Sadie had just given me moments before.

“Look Ma-ee! Choo-choos!” he exclaimed.

I took this small moment as my cue.

My cue to leave my baby boy.

I blew him a kiss, turned on my heels, and walked through the doorway as my shoulders relaxed for the first time that morning.

The moment when I knew my babies were growing up….

Had most definitely arrived.

When I asked Rachel which of her posts she’d like to share with you, she sent me the links to Spring Break is for Suckers, Dear Mommy: A Letter from Sadie to Yours Truly, It’s Another Vasectomy Tuesday, and  Mommy Instinct is NEVER WRONG.

With each title I read, a memory floated back to the surface. I remember each of these so distinctly. This girl can make me laugh like no other. And when she writes from her heart, mine melts. So lovely.

But, I just had to throw in a link to another of my favorites, a post about Sky Mall. Giggle.

Please go follow Rachel on Twitter and like her on Facebook!

Because of His Peace

This week’s Small Moments Mondays post comes from Miranda, who blogs over at Not Super…Just Mom.

And before I go any further, I have a confession to make.

I have a huge bloggy crush on Miranda.

Aside from the fact that she’s stunningly beautiful, there’s an ease about her writing…a warmth that makes you feel immediately at ease.

And she’s stunning. Did I mention that already?

The most remarkable thing about Miranda’s writing is just how honest it is. It is that honesty that keeps me going back for more.

For a taste of the ease, honesty, and warmth I’m talking about, please read So Happy Together, He Needed Me. And I Found a Way to Get There, and Second Shift.

Thank you, Miranda…for your words here and for not getting a restraining order against me for being such a stalker fan.

Because of His Peace–by Miranda

Sleep deprivation is a special kind of torture reserved for the vilest of prisoners.

And moms.

My son? Not a great sleeper. Not even a little bit kind of like a great sleeper.

Joshua wakes up once or twice a night almost every night. We get the occasional sleep-through-the-night here and there but never consistently. We’ve tried everything we can think of to get him to sleep and he just doesn’t do it.

(He comes by a double-dose of stubborn honestly if I’m being, well, honest.)

Most of the time, he just needs to be held for a minute. Reminded that I’m there and that I’m still carrying his heart in my heart.

So, I go to him and I hold him and I set my breathing to match his. When I think his mama-love tank is sufficiently refilled, I put him back in his bed, tiptoe to my own, and finish out the night.

Most of the time, I manage through the days with a few cups of coffee.

But sometimes we have a really bad night like last night where no amount of coffee in the world will help.

After nearly two hours’ worth of attempts to get him back to sleep in his own bed, my husband brought him to our room and Joshua immediately curled into my pillow and fell asleep. So I did, too.

But I had angry sleep. The kind of sleep that isn’t refreshing. The kind of sleep where you wake up full of piss and vinegar and just plain mad.

Joshua, like always, was full of sunshine.

He woke up in our bed, looked around, saw me and said “Oh, hi, Mama! I get down! I go play trains!” and off he went, ready to tackle the world with his innocence.

I was mad all day because of how tired I was. I was frustrated with him. With myself. With the dog. With the fact that my husband was at work instead of home being miserable with me. My thoughts were clouded with exhaustion.

And then I realized that he had climbed on the couch and was sitting almost underneath me, resting his head on my arm.

And I felt my heart warm some at his touch.

When I tried to put him down for his nap he fought me by flailing backwards in my arms so his body was swinging wildly from my hip. I was angry that he was being so unruly. He was laughing.

I felt myself smile at his laughter in spite of my anger.

When I tried to put him down for his nap (for the third time, and a nap which he did not actually take), he drank his milk and then flipped over so we were chest to chest. He tucked his face into my neck and rested there for a minute, breathing on my throat. Then he leaned his head back a little, smiled at me, and settled back into me.

I felt myself soften a bit because of his peace.

Joshua is the small moment in my life. He is my life. And I’m thankful for his presence in it.

You can also find Miranda on Twitter and Facebook. Please go say hello!

About me

Nichole Beaudry @NicholeBeaudry Location: Northern California
Each and every day, I strive to appreciate the wonder, beauty, and whimsy in the small moments, the moments that, when strung together, form a lifetime.
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