After I had posted my blog, I got a note from a friend on facebook.  This is someone I went to high school with, but who now lives out of state.  A state far, far away.  She said that she had some things that she’d like to send to these folks who are in need of some help and that it would include toys from her own boys as well as maybe even some things for the older sister whom I’d mentioned in the story. 

Not knowing my neighbor’s last names or any other information, I set about trying to think of a way to get the details needed so that this friend could get to work on her amazing gift.  I didn’t need to think long because the next day as I was returning from some errands, the neighbor peeked out of her door and yelled “We’ll be over tomorrow morning if that’s okay!”  It sure was, because when they arrived, I asked this neighbor to please spell her name, first and last, and give me their exact address (I didn’t know if they were upstairs or downstairs in their duplex), for my *wink wink* Christmas cards.

I quickly sent the info to my faraway friend and now have received confirmation that indeed, she and her family gathered and wrapped a box full of things for this struggling family and they will have anonymous Christmas presents delivered soon.

I am hopeful that I’m peeking out of my own window at just the right time to see this precious gift delivered.  I mean wow.  Just wow.  I’m blown away by the kindness and love that people are able to show relative strangers.  What an amazing, beautiful thing to do and what a fine display of the true meaning of the Christmas season.  

However, obviously something prompted me to log in tonight and have to tell a story.  You all know I love a good story, and boy have I got one.  You also may know that I love Christmas, and this is a Christmas story.  Well, maybe not really a Christmas story, but I sure am making it one because to me, it’s that good. 

Pride.  That may be what is actually driving me to start tapping away on my computer but it’s not truly what the story is about, I suppose.  It’s about kindness.  Here we go…

In around September I was out front raking the lawn while Sophie assisted me with a small children’s shovel.  She was “raking” up a storm, believe me.  A lady walked over and introduced herself as living across the street from us.  It’s a busy, wide city street, so I hadn’t even ever seen her before.  She told me that she sees me walking my son to the bus stop and was wondering how old he is.  I told her that he’s 5 1/2.  She proceeded to tell me that she’s taking care of her grandson who is 4 1/2 and she was hoping they could meet sometime.  I told her that Cooper is friendlier than friendly and he’d be happy to have a new friend.  I said they should stop over any time.  We made a little more small talk and she went on her way.

Yesterday at around 9 in the morning the dog starts going crazy and there’s a quiet knock on the door.  Sophie was still in her pjs and Cooper was barely out of his.  I was sporting the crazy look that only those women out there with short hair can truly know.  When you have short hair and you’ve slept on it…ooooh boy….believe me.  It’s cah-razy.  I ran to the bedroom to throw on a hat just to open the door.  When I did, there she stood.  The lady from September, and with her, the little boy.  I didn’t know what to say so I started with a “hi”.  She says “E (name omitted for privacy) wanted to play with his friend so we came over.”  Huh.  Um…okay.  I step aside and invite them in.

The boy stands quietly inside the front door all big eyes and not uttering a word.  I call Cooper over and say “this is our neighbor…why don’t you introduce yourself?”  Cooper didn’t need any other intro and quickly began showing the boy around and asking him what kinds of things he likes to play with.  As the boys got to know each other and Cooper showed him toy after toy, Sophie joined in and the three of them played wonderfully together.  The grandmother took off her coat and said “since E is kind of shy, I think I’ll stay.”  Good enough.  We chatted a little bit, while she held a plastic drug store bag on her lap.  After a little bit, with the children playing around us, she handed me the bag and told me it was for me.  I opened it and found two small candles, which she quickly told me will “make the whole house smell like chocolate”, and a small Christmas card.  On the outside of the card it said “To Cooper’s Family”, though it wasn’t spelled quite like I’ve written it here.  It was clear it was painstakingly written as best she could and it was also clear that it may have taken a bit of work on her part to even get out the letters that she did.  She apologized as I looked at the envelope and told me that she didn’t know any of the rest of our names, but had remembered that I said my son’s name was Cooper.  I thought it was such a touching gesture.  More so as we talked on….

She went on to tell me that she’d taken in E and his older sister and that since she wasn’t used to having children around, they knew no other kids.  She told me that they don’t have any toys except some baby toys someone had given them, because she lives only on social security disability and has to pay rent.  They live with her brother.  She said she feels awful because little E is so bored at home with her all day that they took a chance that we’d be around and let him hang out at our house for awhile.  It was heartbreaking to hear.

We chatted a little more and then I noticed the time and I told her that as much as I’d love to let E stay and play with Cooper longer, I really needed to start getting him ready for school.  They looked like they didn’t want to go, but we had to adhere to our schedule so I began walking them to the door and getting their coats for them.  As I did, Cooper, who hears everything even when you think he’s not listening,  walked over to E and said “Hey E., listen…I’ll make a deal with you.  Since you like my Spiderman laptop so much, why don’t you take it home with you, okay?  Then, next time you come back, just bring it back with you.  And actually, since you don’t have any toys, you can have some of mine.  Why don’t you take this rubber dinosaur with you, too?  I think he’s pretty cool.”  My eyes welled up as little E clutched the laptop to his chest.  His grandma appeared anxious and said “oh my gosh, do you have a bag we can carry it in?  I’m so worried if we drop it or break it walking home, we really can’t replace something like this.”  I told her that it’s just a toy and we’re not worried about it at all, as I handed her a Target bag.  She then told E to give her the dinosaur too so she could put it in the bag and he quietly shook his head “no” as he held the dinosaur to his chest and zipped his jacket around it so he could keep it next to him as they walked home. 

I cannot put in to words what I felt for my boy in that moment.  It had nothing to do with him accomplishing anything or winning anything….it was Cooper being Cooper and showing that boy such kindness.  I was overflowing with pride in my son for just being my son.  I’m not sure there’s anything that he could actually “do” that could be better than that. 

I saw lots of folks writing daily “thankful” notes during the month of November.  I didn’t participate because I scarcely had free moments, but I can sum up an entire month’s worth of daily thanks in that moment when I saw Cooper give his own toys away without batting an eye.  I am thankful for my boy.   I also told you that I was going to tell you a Christmas story that isn’t really a Christmas story, didn’t I?  Well, this doesn’t have to do with mangers or stars or trees, but it does have to do with a gift.  I’m not talking about the gift that Cooper gave to that neighbor boy, I’m talking about the gift that I’ve been given….5 1/2 years ago, to be exact.

This morning I was reminded of how brilliant my boy is in his wonderful kindergarten-age perspective.

Today, out of the blue, he asks me “Mommy, do you think you will get another job?”  It was followed by “If you want another job, maybe you could think about being a dump truck driver.” 

I told him that I didn’t think I’d make a great dump truck driver because I don’t like to drive so much, but that I am in school learning how to do a job that I want to do someday soon.  He, of course, asked what it was.

I told him that I’m going to school to be a therapist and he asked what I’ll do.  I told him that a therapist helps people feel better when they are sad and that they help people when they are in a fight and need someone to help them sort things out.

He was quiet in the backseat for a minute and then said “You know that I want to be an officer, right mommy?”  I said that I did know that and that I think it’s a great choice.  He wasn’t done with his thought, though and continued with this; “well, what I am saying is that an officer is a lot like a therapist…just like you.  I will get to help people all the time.”  Brilliant, my boy!  I’m always so proud of his ability to make comparisons that aren’t clear….he often surprises me with his ability to do so at the age of 5.  I love his 5 year old thought process just as much, though, and couldn’t help but smile for blocks after he added “of course, it’s better to be an officer than a therapist because I’ll get to drive a squad car all over town and shoot pistols.” 

During my hectic schedule over the weekend, my parents alleviated some of the craziness by offering to watch Cooper and Sophie for a few (5?) hours on Saturday afternoon/evening.  Later my mom recounted a story to me of how she and Sophie walked around the block.  Slowly.  She told me that Sophie wanted to ride her little “beep beep” car, but every few feet had to get out, find some small treasures and store them in the engine compartment.  Then she’d continue her ride with a new leaf, rock or other found object of interest for a few more feet.  My mom loved it!  I, on the other hand, could already picture my blood pressure rising.  I don’t know if it’s a product of having worked in a very busy corporate environment for so many years, rushing from meeting to meeting, or if it’s life in the city or what, but I have a hard time enjoying the journey and not focusing on the destination.  I notice it all of the time in myself, so when my mom was recalling how much she enjoyed this walk with Sophie, I was a little bit jealous.  I want so badly to not rush around, but something always tells me we have to hurry, even when we don’t.  I am getting much better at it, though, and I quickly reminded myself of that, as well.

This conversation also reminded me that without naming it and without calling any attention to it, my parents have given me a gift.  The same gift that on Saturday afternoon, my mom also passed on to her granddaughter.  The gift is that I was able to pull from my memories time that my parents took me canoeing around some northern Minnesota waterways for hours, watching the water circle out from their oars and the loons swim wonderfully close.  Hours spent sitting at the side of the lake by a campfire, looking up at the stars and discussing the best way to perfectly singe a marshmallow over the fire.  Hours at the kitchen table with my mom, focused on chopping potatoes, eggs and radish in to just the right size for a big bowl of her famous potato salad.  Hours spent sitting in the boat with my dad, learning how to bait my own hook and patiently wait for a fish to check it out.  This is true mindfulness in action.  This is the stuff that doesn’t take counting breaths and refocusing the mind.  This occurs naturally by living life to the fullest and noticing the beauty in the everyday.  This is the time they spent with their children, passing on a legacy of wonder at the great outdoors.  This is mindfulness at it’s best.  A true gift to be unwrapped again and again and again, and yet, the excitement and wonder and awe will last a lifetime.  A gift of the highest order.

This morning, for some reason, I picked up without even looking.  My mistake.  “Doug there” some guy asks.  I offer a curt “no”.  He says “When will he be in?”  I am already moving to hang up but mumble a quick “I don’t know”.  Usually they just hang up, but some pretend to know him and say “I’ll catch him on his cell” or some other nonsense.  This guy caught me off guard by replying “Is this a home phone?”  I return my face fully to the receiver and tell him that it is, indeed our home phone.  I still try to end the call, though, plus get off of whatever annoying list we’re now on, so in an irritated voice I say“Yes, it is our home phone and if this is some other investment call, he’s not interested.  We get these calls  ALL. DAY. LONG.”  Then this happens:

Guy:  “I know you do because I got your name off of a list.  You guys have a long-term portfolio, right?  I mean, not to be like…whatever, but I’m the Vice President of this company and you probably have never dealt with a guy in New York before.  I’d like to help you out.  I’m kind of a big deal.”

Me:  “Right.  Okay.  Well, my husband is a trader and handles his own investments.  Oh, and he’s kind of a big deal too.”

Guy:  “Oh.  He’s a trader.  Oh.  Small world.”  Click.

Sweet!  I’ve now got my standard response for the next 28 guys who call here., which will probably happen tomorrow morning before 10 a.m.  I’m hoping it helps us get moved to the ”Do not call the angry, crazy lady who is married to a trader list.”  One can only hope.  In the meantime, feel free to refer to D.Jones as D. “Kind of a Big Deal”  Jones.  He’d love that.

Well, 1 p.m. rolled around and I headed back to pick up my social little man.  I met him at the park and quickly tried to ask him about his new little friend from the morning.  I couldn’t wait to hear about how Cooper surely showed him around the park building, quickly befriended him and made him at ease, and then probably even helped him build a cool Lego squad car, right?  Well, the conversation actually went like this:

Me:  Coops, did you make a new friend this morning?

Cooper:  Who is Cooper?  I’m an officer.  Please call me officer.

Me:  Okay, I’ll play along in a minute but first I want to ask Cooper something.  Coops, did you help out that little boy this morning that Andrea introduced you to?

Cooper:  I’m not Cooper.

Me:  C’mon Coops.  Did you?  I want to hear all about it.

Cooper:  What boy?

Me:  The one who was crying.  Did you make friends with him and help him out today?

Cooper:  Nah.  All he wanted to do was cry so I went to play.

I totally should know better than to make up my perfect little scenarios.  They never quite fit with the real story of my 5 year old buddy…but I’m still proud as heck.

Cooper:  What is that one word that means to be in disguise?

Me:  Um, disguised?

Cooper:  No, a cooler one.

Me:  Hmm..um…oh, incognito?

Cooper:  Yeah!  That’s it!  Is that Chinese?

Me:  No.  It’s English.

Cooper:  So it’s Spanish?

Me:  No.  I just told you that it’s English.

Cooper:  Can’t be.

____________________________________

In car, Part II:

In response to Sophie having a lengthy and crazy meltdown in the backseat, I tried to think of a song to sing to soothe her, which almost always works.  For some reason, the first song to come to mind was Home on the Range, so I start  belting it out.

Cooper:  What is that all about?!

Me:  It’s a cool song.  It’s a song cowboys sing.

Cooper:  Why?

Me:  Because it gives them something to sing while they ride around on their horses.  It’s just what they do.  Cool, huh?

Cooper:  But we don’t have a horse.

Me:   I know.

Cooper:  But horses are cute.

Me:  Yeah, they are kinda cute.

Cooper:  But Zhu Zhu pets are cuter.

In other “hands full with this girl” news…she took her first steps yesterday.  At 8 months.  EIGHT months.  Goodness.  We’re not ready, Sophie!!  She doesn’t care, though, and all she wants to do is walk, walk, walk.  If you are not willing to spend hours on end in a hunched over position holding her hands while she propels herself around the house (and quickly I might add), then she wants nothing to do with you.  Period. 

So yesterday we were at my parent’s house and she wanted nothing to do with me due to above mentioned ignoring of her requests to wander my parent’s house.  Moments later, she took matters in to her own hands and walked approximately 4 steps right over to my mom, knowing she’d find a more receptive walking partner.   Let me repeat….I’m not ready!

At 8 months old, Cooper was still essentially immobile.  He wanted nothing to do with anything that may cause him harm in any way.   Even at that age, I had no worries about leaving him sitting on one spot, even if that spot was on a couch with just a few pillows around him.  He really wouldn’t move.  He’d chill.

Sophie?  Not so much.  This one is going to require that we child-proof the home that was never child-proofed for Coops.  Stat.