So, last night, Big Man and I were laying on the floor in the family room laughing like little kids. He was telling me about how he and Diddles (my son) had been laying pretty much the same way laughing at one another for about an hour. Now, if you can picture this scene, you would giggle, too, because my husband is a six-foot beast of a man with long dreadlocks. He looks like Mark Henry from WWE sans the unattractive man-o-tard. Very intimidating to most adults, but kids love him, for whatever reason.
Well, as we lay there discussing the day and what went down. He begins to tell me how he feels like the most "luckiest guy in the world." He is so proud of the relationship he has with his son. How Diddles loves him. How he would be so lost if anything ever happened to him. My husband is not one to reveal such tender things, but hearing him say those things made me feel like I was the luckiest wife in the world. I helped give him his son, this joy.
Look, I know this is too damn syrupy sweet for y'all, but it's hard to find a man so in love with his kid(s). Not to say they aren't out there. It's just some guys often times treat their love for their children on a peripheral level. It's that "yeah, I love my kids" mentality, but Daddy is clueless about Lil' Susie's goings on.
I see an almost different approach to Dad-dom from Big Man. He knows Diddles' favorite shows. He makes a point to learn the theme songs. He knows how Diddles likes to take his bottle. He's up early taking care of him, even when he's had a long night at work. He rolls on the ground with him. He tickles him till they are both out of breath from laughter.
What is most telling of all is how he carries Diddles around like the ultimate trophy - and how people notice right off the bat.
Grandpa Dede (Big Man's dad) gets a big kick out of watching his son and grandson roll about like two kids. He is simply amazed by how much love his son shows to his grandson - and is so touched by it. Sometimes he even gets into the action. Carefully, though, since Dede is 85. Even Papai (Diddles maternal grandfather) gets a good laugh when Diddles does a spot-on impersonation of Big Man on the phone talking to hockey folks. He gabs, he laughs and then, Diddles tries to put the phone in the side pocket of his imaginary sweatpants like Big Man does. OMG, I remember one day when he got a hold of Big Man's earpiece and put it on. It was hysterical.
You can even see just the exchange between them in the eyes and how they look and watch each other. When that 5 o'clock hour hits at Mamai and Papai's, Diddles is so happy to see Big Man he can't control himself. If he knew how to back flip he would. The squeal and giggles are endless.
As I watch Big Man reveal all of this to me, my heart swells just a little more. Even though we have rough days and can be snippy and curt, and the bills pile up, it's moments like this one that remind me I've got something good and I've helped make Big Man feel like the Luckiest Man in the World. Pray for me, y'all.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Restoration of the Temple of Lady Cheena
It has been damn near a month since I started this restoration movement. I cannot tell you how much of a difference this has been for me. Hell, there are days now where I wake up and cannot believe I only have a minor pain or a stiff foot or two. I can't tell you how scared I was when Jay (my trainer) first came through the door with all those do-dads and said, "Let's get started."
I had let my fear and depression over my post-pregnancy, RA crashes get the better of me and pretty much let the temple of Lady Cheena fall to ruin. And I mean, ruin. It had become the most uninviting place on earth. The foundation had become this sloppy mass of deflated skin draped over stumps of spindly, ashen legs. The valley that had sat supple between the nethers and mountains was in a sad, post mudslide state. The mountains. Let's not even discuss this, only to say that the peaks were no longer high. The facade had grown gray and lifeless with an ever present furrow locked in place.
The exterior was not the only place that had fallen victim to the dilapidation. Interiors began to crumble with the mold of pity, anger and self-loathing. It was like I had no happy internal thoughts or nothing that could restore the hope that kept eroding with each passing rumble of pain. I didn't like me (and sadly, no else did either). It was becoming a pretty lonely existence and I was scared to live in it alone.
So, having gotten dun fed up with myself, I began to look into the possibility of restoring the old temple. Even with the fear was holding me back, my desire to be shiny outweighed it. If you've ever listened to the intro to Alicia Key's The Element of Freedom, she recites a poem that reflected my sentiments exactly. She stated:
And the day came when the risk it took to remain tightly closed in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to bloom. This is the element of freedom.
This was the restoration of Lady Cheena. It was right painful being this ruined temple. It was getting so hard to lug it around back and forth everyday. My worst moments were when my 72 year old, oxygen-tank inhaling mother carried my son to my car, because I had no strength to do it and, of course, that moment when I had a horrible RA crash post-nodule surgery, when my husband had to clean me up because my "good" hand hurt me so much I couldn't even clean myself.
Ugh!
So, we are into week four of this process, let me give you a tour of the temple. After sweeping out the pity and shame, the interior has been bolstered by a new sense of self-confidence and strength in joy. That rotted flesh smell is fading away, giving way to a fresher, almost lemony scent. This was due impart to the new intake of veggies and fruits and good ol' H2O. The exterior has had some resurfacing and restructuring as well. The ashen, furrowed facade has been replaced by a bronzed and rosy face. The spindly legs have become more defined and stronger (and less dimply, I might add). I actually get up in the morning with barely a wobble. Yay! And that sloppy valley is starting to shape up. Hell, even the mountains are rounding out just nice.
Let's see what the next four weeks bring.
I had let my fear and depression over my post-pregnancy, RA crashes get the better of me and pretty much let the temple of Lady Cheena fall to ruin. And I mean, ruin. It had become the most uninviting place on earth. The foundation had become this sloppy mass of deflated skin draped over stumps of spindly, ashen legs. The valley that had sat supple between the nethers and mountains was in a sad, post mudslide state. The mountains. Let's not even discuss this, only to say that the peaks were no longer high. The facade had grown gray and lifeless with an ever present furrow locked in place.
The exterior was not the only place that had fallen victim to the dilapidation. Interiors began to crumble with the mold of pity, anger and self-loathing. It was like I had no happy internal thoughts or nothing that could restore the hope that kept eroding with each passing rumble of pain. I didn't like me (and sadly, no else did either). It was becoming a pretty lonely existence and I was scared to live in it alone.
So, having gotten dun fed up with myself, I began to look into the possibility of restoring the old temple. Even with the fear was holding me back, my desire to be shiny outweighed it. If you've ever listened to the intro to Alicia Key's The Element of Freedom, she recites a poem that reflected my sentiments exactly. She stated:
And the day came when the risk it took to remain tightly closed in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to bloom. This is the element of freedom.
This was the restoration of Lady Cheena. It was right painful being this ruined temple. It was getting so hard to lug it around back and forth everyday. My worst moments were when my 72 year old, oxygen-tank inhaling mother carried my son to my car, because I had no strength to do it and, of course, that moment when I had a horrible RA crash post-nodule surgery, when my husband had to clean me up because my "good" hand hurt me so much I couldn't even clean myself.
Ugh!
So, we are into week four of this process, let me give you a tour of the temple. After sweeping out the pity and shame, the interior has been bolstered by a new sense of self-confidence and strength in joy. That rotted flesh smell is fading away, giving way to a fresher, almost lemony scent. This was due impart to the new intake of veggies and fruits and good ol' H2O. The exterior has had some resurfacing and restructuring as well. The ashen, furrowed facade has been replaced by a bronzed and rosy face. The spindly legs have become more defined and stronger (and less dimply, I might add). I actually get up in the morning with barely a wobble. Yay! And that sloppy valley is starting to shape up. Hell, even the mountains are rounding out just nice.
Let's see what the next four weeks bring.
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