Series of Cooper's buzz cut

 

 

 

You see his joy in the first picture, and that the hair was not THAT bad.
Brock's mistake really began to sink in when we were in the growing out phase of the hair cut. I know that he is a beautiful boy, and has the spirit like none other, but don't try to tell me how cute he is in the other two-(with the exception of the excitement he had holding the goose)

Even your child's hair can teach you a life lesson

 

When I had Fletcher, sadly, I was in a rush for him to grow up. I couldn't wait for him to say his first words and take his first steps. I was ready for him to be my friend at the age of 18 months. Then,there was Hugh, 19 months younger than Fletch, and suddenly, I was not in much of a hurry. Not for sentimental reasons, but more for sanity reasons- I could not imagine having two toddlers at the same time. Soon enough, two little boys were running in two different directions. That is the way I planned it but I still think to myself, WHAT WAS I THINKING??? And before long, I was pregnant again. I was wiser this time, I waited until Hugh, who was and still is, the demolition man, was 22 months. I was much wiser, hmmph... Which leads me to the point of my entry. Charles Cooper Himan. Look, just look at how cute he is. From birth he was the sweetest, snuggliest, calmest one of them all. He slept the obscene hours that most moms would kill for. He woke up and went to bed happy. I WAS NOT, let me repeat, I WAS NOT ready for him to grown up.
Now look again at Cooper's hair in the skunk picture. Cutie. He was 2 1/2. November 1st, the day after this picture was taken, I was heading to Clemson for a football game against Wake. It was just me and the older two heading out for a Mom's day. Brock assured me that he and Cooper would have a day of adventure themselves and NOT TO WORRY. Now that I think about it, he did have a smirk on his face. I should never have left him alone with the child. On the way back from the game my phone rings and sweet Coop's is on the other line. All he has to say to me is "Mamma, buzz cut" I was not sure I understood him so I said, "sweetie, what did you say?" And again he repeated "mamma, buzz cut". So I giggled and thought, Oh good, Brock must have taken Cooper to get his hair cut. Poor thing thinks he got a buzz, because the OLDER MORE MATURE, NOT BABIES ANYMORE, have them! He wants to be just like them.

Before our renovation there was a huge window in the kitchen and the boys would sit there and wait for one of us to pull up, waving enthusiastically when we finally did. Boy I miss that enthusiasm. Come to think of it, I miss the window too! Sure enough, there was a boy there, waving his arms high in the air, with sheer joy in his heart. He looked 2 1/2 to me, he had Cooper's beautiful eyes and sweet smile, but he had no hair to speak of. In sync, both the older boys screamed "COOL MOM, COOPER GOT A BUZZ CUT". And at the same time Cooper is running to me so proud "MOMMY!! BUZZ CUT!! MOMMY BUZZ CUT!!" I swooped him up in my arms, kissed him all over and told him "Honey, I love it". Don't worry, my fingers were crossed. Over his shoulders I am looking for Brock, who usually greets me at the door as well. Interesting that he chose not to today. He has, in a flash, taken the baby out of my boy. I am surprised that Cooper could not feel the steam coming out of my ears. After all the hoopla is over and the big brothers stopped doting on him, I made my journey inside the house, ready to pounce. I was ready for an argument. Arguments are rare around the house but they do happen. Brock must have been the captain of the national winning debate team in high school, normally getting his point across so quickly and affectively that I am left wondering why I chose to argue anyhow. As he made his way down the stairs I could not believe what I saw. There was Brock, in total defeat. It was impossible to be mad. He looked down at me with sorrowful eyes and asked, "it's not that bad is it?". And again, with my fingers crossed, I hugged him and said, "no honey, it's not that bad."

You see what I realized was that Brock's feelings were so different than mine. He was done having babies. He was ready for his foursome to begin. He was ready to fish as a family. He was wanting Cooper to grow up faster. And in some crazy way, cutting his hair would get him there. Just as leaving his hair the way it was, or snuggling with him more would keep him a baby and keep me young. At six he is a unique child of God's, and I am enjoying him day by day. And yes, he still has a buzz cut.

What a difference a year makes

One year ago today, my life was at the brink of disaster. Noone would have ever guessed I was there, but internally I was near the boiling point. I had become a full time professional at holding my emotions in, putting on a big bright smile and letting everyone know how great I was. Amazing even. From an early age I was trained to do that. I could never expose the secrets of the family, so I had to overcompensate the pains I was feeling with smiles. The secrets kept getting bigger and the smiles kept getting broader. I never stopped.

My oldest brother David died tragically in September of 2008. I do think that is what sent me over the edge. I had dealt with other significant losses and tramautic events, but this little ole body could not take any more. For months I tried to smile my pain away and pretend as if everything was fine and dandy in Cathy's world. Secretly, all I wanted to do is crawl in my bed and wish the time away. I was wishing away the precious time I had with the boys and Brock. It made no sense to me as to why I felt the way I did. I was physically healthy, had 3 terrific boys and an incredibly supportive husband. I live in an amazing town and neighborhood, was kept warm at night and sheltered by a nice home. How dare I complain of discontent! For months I kept my mouth shut and continued going through lifes motions, aimlessly and exhausted. And sore. My efforts at trying to keep up the happy face had manifested into severe neck and back pain. I had reached a point that hiding it was no longer an option. My emotional and physical pain was beginning to seethe out of every pore. I could not breathe.

I had asked God for help before, but only halfheartedly. I am not sure I even wanted to change. I felt too lazy to change. It takes a lot of work to break old habits and live life differently. Exactly a year ago, I got on my kness and prayed to God. I prayed for strength. I prayed for change. I prayed for peace. I cried and I begged. This time I prayed with all my heart, not just half of it. Then I carried on with the next couple days, still carrying the burden of my pain right on top of my shoulders. It was not until, in the midst of an argument the following night, that I was aware God had heard me. Brock stopped short in our "discussion" and very tenderly asked me if I needed to go somewhere to deal with my depression. I replied, very calmly and matter of fact like, "yes". At that point I knew that I needed to separate myself from Brock and the boys for a certain amount of time and just focus on myself. I was unable to do it with the constant demands that the home brought me. And I wanted to heal, not just partially, but all the way.

The next day may be one of the scariest days of my life. Driving to the facility knowing the pain the separation from the family was going to bring me, and NOT knowing what lie ahead in the next 30 days filled me with a gut wrenching fear. I wanted to take back that "yes", and go back to the way it was, because at least I was comfortable there. When the boys and Brock kissed me goodbye at 2:00 in the room of my temporary home, I curled up into a fetal posistion and stayed there, all night long. It was not until the next morning that I had my next conversation with God. It went something like this... "Well, I am here, I cannot turn back, help me give it all I got." So at that moment, I got up, got dressed and opened the door to my new life.

I am so grateful to Brookhaven and the women there who helped me get through some pretty serious stuff. There was so much to work through, so much pain to rehash, but the more I let go, the lighter the load on my shoulders was. My pain started to go away. I could breathe.

So here I am, a year later. I am still breathing, my neck and back are still burden free and most importantly, I am with the family. I mean REALLY with them, and there is no other place I would rather be. There is no doubt that the challenges were great at times and will continue to be. But to be able to look someone in the eye and tell them how great I am, and really mean it, far and away outweighs the challenges.

God made fun of me

Brock and I are constantly laughing at God's sense of humor. It is everywhere. In the last blog I whined and whined about winter. Particularly the current winter we are experiencing. So, the next day, in typical God style, there was a blizard warning. In North Carolina, a blizzard warning. Never in my young 41 years have I ever been in a blizzard warning. Granted, it was not much of a blizzard- a couple of flakes and strong winds- God was funny but not cruel. Everyday since my whinefest snow has fallen. I AM NOT COMPLAINING, just recognizing the humor in it all. I love jokes. I just prefer them in the spring and the summer.

 

Wintertime Blues

I hate winter. From my toes up to my cold nose, I hate everything about it. Every year, I promise myself it is going to get better, that I will be nicer and I will not let my feelings get in the way. I tell myself that I will do things that soften my feelings, such as play in the snow, or take a trip skiing. But every year, around March 1st, I throw my hands up in the air with complete defeat. Winter won again. It got the absolute best of me. The short, dark, cold days have entered my body and sent me into a whirlwind of a depression. I am not quite sure there is such a thing as "seasonal depression" but that is undeniably what I have.

I have begun to meditate. During my meditation I am instructed to go to my "happy place". So as the ice is hammering down and the trees are cracking, I simply shut myself off from the rest of the world, take some deep breaths, close my eyes and imagine the sun beating down on my skin. It unwinds me and soothes me, even if just for a moment.

This winter has been unusually cruel. It is just mid February and I am already throwing in the towel. We have been stuck inside the house for 5 straight weekends due to snow, ice or just cold rain. It has made me stir crazy, but worse yet, it has made my boys stir crazy. Having 3 cooped up boys, 3 cooped up dogs, and one cooped up husband is enough to send me away to the funny farm. Fortunately, there is not a funny farm in the future, but there is a closet that I close my self in and dream of warmer days.

I DO love the first initial snow, the beauty and silence that falls with it.
I adore the comfort of a fire.
I treasure my children's reactions when they find out they do not have school
And mostly what I love is the unexpected day that forces you to forget obligations and simply enjoy each other.

The groundhog said we have six more weeks of winter. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!!!!