Vivid Moments, Dreams, And The Stress Between

While I don’t remember the year, I remember waking up ecstatic. In my dream, I could hear my son speak. I turned to my husband to say “He can talk!” before realizing the sun hadn’t yet risen, and neither had my son’s voice. His words were so clear, though. Now that he speaks, I wonder whether it was his actual voice I heard, if only in my heart. A vivid memory. Cherished more perhaps because I now have the luxury of occasional annoyance when he says “No offense, Mom, but I’m bored.”

Vividly Scared

Before becoming a parent, I’d been warned of sleepless nights, spit-up in my hair, clothing, and on my furniture. My own snoring woke me at 3:00 a.m., to find my infant son sleeping in my lap, my milk-laden breast hanging heavily above his tiny face. I expected those things.

What I didn’t expect was picturing my perfect baby’s tiny head going “SPLAT!” on our hardwood floors. Bright red and broken, like a dropped watermelon. It was only in my head, but I was terrified of it happening. My husband tripped down the last few stairs carrying laundry, and left a huge hole in the drywall. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “At least you weren’t carrying the baby,” I replied. Because that’s what it was all about. The baby.

Now that he’s nine-years-old, I no longer picture each fall being life-threatening, but I do picture all of the terrible things parents need to worry about these days, because parents are afraid, and it’s bullshit.

Vivid Beauty

Today was a good day. I was chosen as a chaperone for a field trip to the Colorado Capitol in Denver. Each time there’s an opportunity, I volunteer. In Virginia, pretty much each parent willing to endure uncomfortable and bouncy school bus seats (while too many excited children are sing-screaming) were allowed to tag along. Since we moved to Colorado though, only two parents are allowed on each outing, which means today was a treat.

I realize my coolness factors are dwindling, and that soon, Tucker will likely be (slightly) less enthused about holding my hand in front of his peers. I hang onto these moments, with all that I am, and with all that Tucker will become. I’ll remember, for both of us, if he forgets.

It was a good day. Color-filled photos of sunshine, views, and happiness at seeing that our current “president” isn’t yet on the wall (only guessing here, but he probably refused realistic portraits of himself the same way he refuses facts, equality, and decency to humans).

Vivid Annoyance

It was a good day, in spite of kids’ sing-screaming and me needing a massage after traveling on the school bus. Busy, but good. We came home, Tucker had swimming. No problem, plenty of time to write my Finish the Sentence Friday post.

Robert got home just in time to take him to Cub Scouts. “An hour of alone time! Perfect to write my post tonight!” and then, my boss sent me a 35-page proposal that he wants to print in the morning. East coast time. Morning here equals two hours earlier than morning there.

And yet, through the annoyance, I can’t help but feel gratitude. I’m trusted for my opinion. Even paid to provide it.

Vivid Life

I guess our most vivid dreams, memories, and annoyances are each bucket-filling. When I first saw this prompt, I pictured a graveyard, but a peaceful one. Maybe my too-short-in-time reflections on “Vivid” are because one day, hopefully far, far in the future, I hope to picture my not-so-little little boy holding my hand on a vividly sunny day, in front of his peers. I hope I’ll remember feeling value through work, and a too-busy day. Writing at the last minute for Finish the Sentence Friday, thinking “Well, this is a worthless reaction to a self-imposed time limit,” and then thinking “You’re writing, and each of our moments matter.”

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. Today’s photo-prompt “vivid” was brought to you by the amazing Mardra Sikora. She provided this beautiful photo and we hope you’ll join in.