Prince Charming Isn’t Just In Fairytales

The shimmery gray dress nipped at her ankles, skirting the tops of her feet with a sassiness.  It had been an easy find, unique and affordable.   It brought out her inner Roman goddess, accentuating all of her attributes and masking the flaws.  

A company Christmas party.    What could and should be expected?   What was the protocol?  Who was there to impress?  It didn’t matter because this night allowed her to step inside of her comfort zone, to be someone that she wasn’t during the 9-5 monotony of Corporate America.   This was her night to be herself.  

Company Christmas parties…what was the protocol?   Bring a date or go solo?   In the end, she talked her roommate into coming along.   They agreed on a few hours at the buttoned up Corporate America shindig before heading out to a much more laid back, casual atmosphere of a friend’s Christmas party.  

Her clear acrylic heels adorned with rhinestones clicked on the staircase as she made her way to the next party.   The shoes elevated her normal 6 foot frame allowing her to look out above the masses.  She was at ease, all pretenses of being someone else released its hold upon her and exited through the closing door after gently taking a bow.   She smiled as she was relieved of her shackles of dissimilation and could be with her friends, her chosen family, her village.  

The drinks flowed, the music caressed her soul, and the card games stripped her of any monetary satisfaction, but she was content.   Her body melted into the sofa as she engaged in friendly banter among her co-partiers.   The evening was quickly becoming a propitiation to what had been a mentally taxing week, and just when she thought the night could not become more blissful, the door across the room opened.  

A trio of males, past the age of being called boys, but still exuding a slight level of immatuturity that prevented them from being referred to as men, entered the apartment.   They were all strangers to her, not one face exuding any sense of familiarity and just when she decided that the three were too mundane to warrant anymore of her curiosity, the third one came into view.  

He was tall, dark, and handsome.  Every fairytale cliché of Prince Charming was wrapped up into him.   Tragic love stories were written about him, with tortured hearts and damsels in distress.   It was at that moment in time, with the opening of that door, that her life would change forever.  From that point forward in life, each step, each decision would be made with a new perspective.  

Did he see her?   Could he sense the quivers in her belly, the skipping of her heart beat?   Could he possibly notice her, one girl in a sea of beautiful women?  

She should look away, she thought to herself.   How mortifying would it be if he caught her staring, but she couldn’t tear herself away from watching him glide into the room, a smile spreading across his face as he met each person.   He was tall, black hair, with a slight little cleft in his chin.   He was broad shouldered, muscles clearly seen beneath the sleeves of his shirt.   He was the exact opposite of the skinny, non-athletic nerdy types she’d always been attracted to.   He couldn’t possibly be interested in her.  

Finally she decided it was time to look away, to not be quite so obvious, but it was a little too late.  He’d seen her and shock of all shocks, he was walking over to her.  

He introduced himself and she reciprocated.   He took a seat alongside her on the couch and the conversations never seemed to lull.   There was always something to talk about, something funny to be told, and there was no place else either one of them could imagine being at that very moment in time.     

As the night waned, many of the partiers, her roommate included, decided to go elsewhere.   She uncrossed her legs and begin to rise, in doing so she lost one of her shoes.   At that moment, he knelt down and while grabbing the shoe, he cupped one hand behind her shin and slid the shoe back onto her foot.  

“It looks like Cinderella lost her glass slipper,” he said with a smile and that is how the greatest love story came to fruition in 2003.

Hanging My Heart for Davey to See

I’m on week three of the book “52 Things Kids Need From a Mom”.   This week’s reading is entitled “Kids Need Their Mom…To Hang Hearts of Love over their Lives.”   After reading, it had me wondering if I really do hang my heart for Davey to see?

Every morning, when I get Davey up, I tell him how much I love him.   I sing to him as I change his diaper and try to make some of the songs about how much I love him.

I’ve written him letters and even started a journal from the moment I found out I was pregnant with little things about my experiences, but mostly I’ve written him to tell him how much I love him.   I want him to know how much he’s meant to me, how thankful my husband and I are that he came into our lives.   He hears the words I love you continously throughout the day.   I’m not shy about saying it.   I congratulate him on little accomplishments.   I recognize him.   He’s the recipient of hugs and kisses on a daily and continuous basis.

I try to make sure my heart is ALWAYS worn on my sleeve where Davey is concerned, even when my feelings are hurt and I’m sad.   I think this generation has started down that path more with our children as opposed to that of my grandparent’s generation.   I think it’s important for our children to hear daily how much they’re loved, how important they are.   We seem to take it for granted too often that they know how we feel, so we just don’t say it.

I know my parents love me, but it took my c-section and my mother being out of town on business to actually hear her say the words “I love you”.   I haven’t heard those words in a really long time.

How often do you hang your heart for your child(ren)?   Have you done it today?   Make a conscious effort to make sure THEY know how much you love them.

Never Forget the Power of YOUR Touch

You’ll recall a little over a week ago, I spoke of a book I’m reading and I encouraged all of you out there to pick it up as well.   It’s titled “52 Things Kids Need From a Mom” by Angela Thomas.   As I stated, it’s an easy read and separated out to be able to read a chapter a week, with each chapter really only being about five pages long.   Now, if I had been on schedule (which I’ve learned can be quite difficult once you become a mom) then I would have posted a blog about the second chapter on Friday.   Of course, last week wasn’t the best week.   I was sick, my child was sick, we had some snow, and my husband and I were eager for a date night.   Needless to say, posting a blog on my weekly reading took a back seat, but now I’m back at least on this topic.

Chapter 2 is entitled:  “Kids Need Their Mom…To Never Stop Touching Them.”   Being a part of our sometimes warped society, I immediately went into a not so happy place in my mind when I read the chapter title.   I had to remind myself that this is a Christian book written by a Christian woman who would never encourage any perverse ways of “touching” your children.   With that frame of mind now accomplished, I set about to read the chapter and I have to say, I find myself touching Davey more and more everyday.

Much like Ms. Thomas, we have affection in our home.   My husband and I love to hug each other, we hold hands (a lot of times just walking through a parking lot) and we both dote and love on our son.   He is our treasure, our gift from God and I can’t stop touching him and telling him how much I love him.   Over time, said touching can diminish.   It does a lot in marriages and it’s something that my husband and I must be conscience about.   We have to remind ourselves to not be complacent and to touch each other.  The power of the human touch is a magical thing.   Fortunately, at this point, we don’t have to remind ourselves to touch Davey.   It just seems to come with the territory when having a baby.

“To touch someone can communicate a million things,” Ms. Thomas says and she’s right.   I think we lose all sense of what our touch can really mean to a child.   It can bring forth feelings of love, home, safety, comfort, and acceptance just to name a few.  Isn’t your child worth receiving those feelings?   How often do you touch your children?   How often do you hug them, tousle their hair, kiss their foreheads, wiggle their toes?   It seems like such a small and almost effortless thing to do, but it’s worth more than can be quantified.

Ms. Thomas puts in best when closing this chapter she states, “Never stop touching them.  The gift of your enduring affection will become one of the greatest gifts you ever give to their souls.”

So, I ask all of you who are parents out there and even those of you who aren’t, will you please touch your loved one tonight?   Never forget the power of YOUR touch and what it can mean to someone, especially the smallest ones in our lives.

As a bit of inspiration, here’s a picture of one of my first touches which just happens to be a hug from my beautiful bundle of joy:

Our first hug.
Our first hug.