Two Little Boys

Tim & I had 4 boys straight in a row. As each one of them came into our family, time together seemed to bind our first two (only a year apart) into becoming the best of friends and in years to come the same with the last two. They learned to share their mother's attention & time. As they grew & developed, I learned a song called, "Two Little Boys" from Tim's sister Ann. The song talked about the love between two little boys and how the older one always came to the need and rescue of the younger brother's needs. Even as they grew into adults and went off to war, The oldest boy held a "saving" responsibility.
Scott is the oldest of our 4 boys, and he often asked for me to sing, "Two Little Boys," at bedtime. I loved to lay on the bed with the boys, to tell stories and to sing. (They even used to argue over which bed I got to lay in. Busy as I always was...mother's love being needed!)"Two Little Boys" & the "Little Blue Man" were regular night time songs. Other times, I would walk into a room and witness them peacefully playing together, and my heart would instantaneously begin singing the words of the song.
These 4 little boys are not so small any more and to this day, they are still the best of friends. Each different & very individual......but each one recognizing that they have been by each other's side all of their life and are still there.
Working out with nauseated Julie Kaye each morning who is about to have her firstborn in February and Mary Ann just had her first baby boy in August has opened the pages of my early motherhood. Watching Mary Ann enjoy every move, every new development of little Dayton, and seeing every little glimpse of love she has for her newborn son has re-warmed my soul with the magic of Motherhood. There is just something so divine about the miracle of developing a complete body happening within your own. Little tiny fingers with even tinier fingernails. The tiniest of cracks that run down the middle of the tongue. Every part of our miraculous body's are formed within the inner walls of our mother's active,moving, body. And for the majority of the time, she is the only person (besides God) that is totally aware that this miraculous development process in happening. It is such a imaginable miracle and a sacrifice we should never take for granted.
Memories have flooded my mind since little Cooper came into our family. He looks so much like Scottie. And when I see him, I want to take him in my arms and dance. (Dancing was Scottie & my special time together when he was a baby.) Babies uncover the tender corners of my memory bank. A couple of years ago, I took the time to draw a picture of each one of the children in their childhood. Each drawing was a warm embrace full of flooding memories revisited with each child as each stroke of my pencil fell upon the paper. Memories only a mother has in her inner most heart-filled scrapbook. Each child born into a family is independently loved and identified. Through these memories, a mother knows and sees the inner most potential of each child because she has been apart of all the private simple moments throughout the child's development. When Scott & Candice were in their early years of marriage, I remember Candice telling me of one of her tender moments concerning a little boy coming into their family...years before little Cooper was born to her. Hardship having babies and having 3 consecutive daughters might cause one to wonder about having her little boy. Then last February, little Cooper delivered, I asked Candice about that moment so many years before. Immediately she knew exactly what I was referring to.....and her heart filled with revelation made manifest. So it is with each child born....memories attach themselves individually to each child. Magical & alive & extremely tender stored within a sacred & protected vault inside a mother's heart. There is nothing like a family to fill a wall full of memory books. I have 100's that only I can look. They are closed & held sacred with in the walls of my heart's library. My boys are all grown now. Hugs are few and far between. Each of their special wives get all their kisses & embraces and they have children of their own......writing their own books and filling their own shelves with memories. I have to step back and watch them fulfill their roll of companion & father now. My joy in seeing them be responsible creators and providing beautiful homes & a comfortable nest for their wife & children brings me great joy and fulfillment. And yet, no matter how big their bodies get (for they are ALL big tall men now), or how many new folks attach themselves into their busy lives,....within me are those sacred memories of when I was their queen bee. I had the honor of bringing them into this life, being their "nursing mother" throughout their developing years. I was the lady they needed to learn their a-b-c's, fix their breakfast, lunch & dinner, kiss their wounds, wipe their tears, laugh at their funnies, help them with their homework, attend every event of success, write every talk they gave or save them from the monsters of adversity and my memories are very much alive in my scrapbook of time. And when they take time to stop for a moment to look into my eyes, or to read between the lines of my words of appreciate & love or even remember that their hugs were what keep my heart beating when they were young......they sometimes turn around and hug me now. And today, their hugs even feel better and have to last much longer because they're so much harder to come by.