There are still a few gentlemen left...

... and today I met all of them.

Last night, I had my roommate put a reminder on my dashboard post-it collection to go into the shop and check the tire pressure in my car. I had noticed that it was eating gas, but the warning light came on last night and I had refilled the tire with air. Evidently, the post it reminder and intention to stop by the garage this afternoon wasn't fast enough for Xica. (Yes, I named the car)

2 and 1/2 hours of waiting later with a flat (read: completely ruined/blown out tire) on I-55 for the tow truck... I realized that this was the best of all possible bad Mondays. It was just a flat - the warning light came on again 30 seconds before it blew, and I had slowed down already when it blew. No massive accident or sudden shock induced swerving. No one was hurt, and no damage to the car.

Surprisingly, I met more kind people today than I do usually any day. Two different IDOT people stopped and checked that I was ok. A state trooper stopped by and asked if I had a spare (Thanks Ford! I in fact did not. An air pump is not effective in place of a spare when there is a gaping hole in the rubber...) Even the person who was dispatched to change the flat but couldn't without the spare was kind and helpful... [Does anyone else see a theme here?]

Once the tow truck arrived, I felt transported to a weird reality. It's been so long since I've been dependent on the kindness of strangers that it was disconcerting. As Xica was loaded up onto the truck, my sense of independence and willpower shrunk. I felt incredibly responsible and guilty. I wouldn't have gotten through this morning without breaking down in tears if I hadn't been for the multiple kind and gentle souls who helped me out.

Waiting by the side of the road, you can't help but see people pass you by. You start to count exactly how many are passing you by without seeing you in your moment of crisis. This feeling made me wonder what I want Xavier to be doing with his life.

How is it that you raise a gentleman? I want him to be the generous person who stopped for me today just to check and see if I was ok. I want him to be the kind person who gave me advice on what to do next. I want him to be the type of person who has empathy for others - especially those in crisis.

Today made me realize that it doesn't matter what Xavier chooses as his profession - it matters how he treats others. Sure, a college/grad school education would be wonderful, but ultimately, I want him to be a kind, generous, and considerate man. Because, I never want to believe that there are no gentlemen left.

His own driver's seat

Xavier, unfortunately, has become a terrible backseat driver. It hasn't been two days that he hasn't told me to go because it's green or stop because it's red. Often he wants to go this way or that way rather than our usual path. I understand that he is just learning the rules and vocalizing them often, but I don't remember doing this to my parents when I was three. Maybe when I was 10 and realized what those signals meant.

However, this shows me two important things about his development. First, he recognizes where we go as well as what else is nearby. He understands that point A is close to point B and that this other place that we've been is also in the same locale. Maybe he will inherit my ability to always find my way.

Second, he recognizes a sense of rules and applies them to himself, but not to others. He is observant and patient enough to wait for the light to change to green, but doesn't understand why I don't move if there are cars in front of me. He recognizes a simple red/yellow/green system, but can't comprehend that others are following that same system. It's great to know that he's paying attention to it, but it's astounding to know that he processes such information differently than I do.

How fast he's growing up.

Stoplights...

I feel like Xavier and I spend a great deal of time in the car. Whether we're on our way to the chiropractor, the grocery store, or even to get the oil changed, we end up living our lives in the car. I would like to think that it's not time wasted, and I do try to have entertainment in the car for Xavier that is productive.

So, during our latest trip to the chiropractor, Xavier interrupts the audiobook that is playing and tells me, "if you do that again you're going to be on orange." I think this is in response to him asking for the 14th time to have a piece of candy. His school (daycare) has just implemented the stoplight behavior chart. (green = all is well; yellow and orange are warnings and red is time out) In school, I would have never been on anything but green, and here is my darling son telling me that I'm really one step away from a time out. It was surreal. It also made me wonder - if Xavier gave me a grade as a parent, would I get all As? Or, would I not deserve that? Have I been doing a thorough enough job to even get one A? And, who is grading me? Society? Xavier? Other parents? his teachers?

What is it that makes a parent good and more importantly, how do I become that for Xavier? I'm the only parent he has, so I have to be there for him - through it all. That thought sends shivers down my spine. It's not only an incredible responsibility, but also the reason that I get up in the morning. I don't share him. He's mine. What good things he has gained in life, have come from me. I smile slightly and feel my breath catch and linger on this realization. It's then that the audiobook announces "END OF DISC 10", and I'm jolted back from deep parental consciousness.

My full intention is to move to disc 11. However in the process, we catch the Spanish pop station which is playing one of Xavier's favorite songs. (Who knew 3 year olds could like Enrique Iglesias and sound deliriously cute singing it?) We both sing. I'm sure the people who saw us dancing and singing in the car at the stoplights just thought we were crazy or weird. Yet, it's only when I let my guard down and experience life with Xavier that I realize what being a parent to him is about.

Five years from now, he's not going to remember the audiobooks or who was playing on the radio. He's going to remember that we were together and that it was fun. I want so desperately to do everything right for him, but I'm coming to the realization that it's not about the obsessive planning of playdates or organic menus... It's about making life and love palpable.

In As Good As It Gets Jack Nicholson's character says that line: "You make me want to be a better man". I've been thinking about it lately, I would say, "You make me a better [wo]man". Even if I'm on orange.

End of Summer Sadness

With every new school year, there is the twinge of excitement of sending kids back to school and recouping some personal time. At least for most parents. This is not true if you are a parent, and a teacher. Labor Day marks the end of summer, my end of "freedom" from the tyrannical rule of lesson plans and construction paper paper cuts. (I swear it's more serrated than typical paper) It also marks the end of peaceful family time. When Xavier and I might make a few day trips to go kayaking or visiting museums or just sit and do nothing on the beach.

However, the benefits of sending the Xavier off to school far outweigh the price. Yes, our time together is drastically cut. Yes, he's going to be especially clingy and not want to sleep. Yes, I'm going to hate making the choice between reading to him and giving him a bath before he needs to go to bed because we only have 2 hours together in the evening in which to cram dinner and playtime and ___________. Yes, it's difficult seeing him off every morning. Yes, it's going to be really hard when he is 5, for real - not him just telling people he's 5, and finally in Kindergarten.


It's simply bittersweet.


However, his hugs carry more weight. His kisses stay with me all day. His smile when I pick him up at the end of the day lights up my soul. Especially when it's attached to a hug that is strong enough to knock me off my feet. I even appreciate his lion kisses. (Thanks again to my lovely brother who defined a lion kiss as a lick on the face... really nice.) His big presence through small gestures isn't lost on me, even after a day with 30 6 year olds.

So, the school year begins and summer fades into fall.