Celebrating James

James is the refreshing, cool, smooth center of a crunchy-cookie ice cream sandwich.

For the full metaphor, picture his placement in our family! He's mellow and not easily riled, yet he likes to do things at his own pace. I think he was born sooner than he wanted -- he was breach, so I was scheduled for a version (external turning, ouch!). An ultrasound the day of the procedure, 10 days before my due date, showed James had turned during the night. Not wanting to give him a chance to turn around again, the doctor opted to induce my labor that morning. We met James, all 8 lbs. 2 oz. of him, by the end of the work day. He was my biggest baby. He was so sleepy and chill we hardly saw him open his eyes those first few days. Maybe in protest.

James is confident. Last night we did a family home evening activity of writing something nice about each family member. We rotated papers around the table. When you got your own paper you could take a breather, but instead James wrote, "I love myself!" I cherish that about him. I never want it to leave.

James is a problem solver. Our ward does a trunk-or-treat the Saturday before Halloween. Invariably someone's costume gets lost between the ward party and Halloween itself -- what can I say, our home is the Bermuda triangle of all things clothing. A few years back this happened to both James and Elise. It brought their contrasting personalities into sharp focus. Whereas Elise was tearfully upset and casting blame for her missing costume, James simply came up with another option. He paired an oversize T-shirt with a knit cap -- voila, skateboarder.

He is all boy, with a rough-and-tumble athletic zeal and habitually dirty nails, grass-stained jeans and messy room. This makes his parting hugs and "I love you, Mom" as he goes to school all the more endearing. He tells me every night he loves me. Then he'll come into my room again, "Good night, Mom, I love you." And again. I love this boy! Now, get to bed!

Jeff and I took James to lunch, and then to a rock-climbing gym to celebrate his birthday. It was a great day. I need to do this more often, not to just celebrate certain occasions, but to celebrate the child.

I could wax poetic about the symbolism of rock-climbing, of being harnessed to a helper on the ground but having to do all the upward reach by yourself;  of constantly looking forward and not obsessing about past steps; of the need to speak, but more the need to listen to your helper. A woman was there guiding her two-year-old daughter in what I guessed was a first climb. "No, no," she kept saying. "Don't grab the rope, grab the rock. The rope is holding you, but you won't go anywhere if you don't touch the rock."

My hope for James is that he will grow in his confidence and his abilities and never be afraid to push himself to great things. Happy 10th, big guy! We are so glad you're in our family.




P.S.

I found a document from when he was 4 that I labeled James' random sayings:

September

• I came up the stairs and turned the light off behind me, not realizing James was in the room.  “Mom!  Turn on the light!  I don’t glow in the dark!”

• At a birthday party I cautioned James that if he didn’t slow down on all the candy he was eating, he’d get sick. He looked up at me with disbelief that his mother still just does not get it.  “Mom,” he said with some exasperation, “I’m not allergic to sugar.”

10/06/08

 “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, but I’m scared of pirates!”

 Me: (laughing) “But there aren’t any pirates in the bathroom!”

James: “There’s a pirate poster on Kyle’s door.”

Me: “But that’s not the bathroom!”

James: “Well . . .” and left the room.

10/03/08

Me:  “Come on James, let’s walk to the school and walk home with Elise and Emma.”

James: “I want to drive.”

Me:  “No, James, it’s such a beautiful day.  Let’s walk.”

James, in his know-it-all fashion: “Mom, we can still see the beautiful day from the van windows!”