Blue Jean Baby

When my boys were little, a squirm was enough of a sign for me to know they needed a tag in their shirt cut out.  Their body language told me everything without the need for words.  If I delayed in getting the scissors, the squirm would increase and sometimes a whine or two would escape.

Both always had very definite opinions about their clothing choices, once they were old enough to voice them.  No dressy or itchy shirts, no khakis, no matchy-matchy outfits.  I wonder if they were in a silent torture back in the Garanimal days.

My baby will be sixteen in a week.  For Noah, once puberty hit, the pants came off.  Part werewolf, he lives in shorts and a T-shirt 365 days a year.  And still complains he is hot.

In the beginning, I feared a visit from social services, as I was convinced every mother was shaking her head at the school drop-off each morning and mentally noting my license plate.  I would beg him to wear pants, even sweatpants would be sufficient.  At times, I offered pajama pants just for being out in the cold.  He could cram them in his backpack once inside.  Hoodies became a bargaining chip.
'My legs will get frostbite but my arms will stay warm' reasoning.

After awhile, I just gave up.  He's a big hunk of a boy and I figured if he gets cold enough, he'll wear more clothing.

Aside from wearing shorts, he also makes some very colorful choices.  Remembering my all-black phase from 7th grade, I bite my lip and let him express himself...most of the time.  Bright basketball shorts, a t-shirt that does anything but match, and knee-length boldly colored socks.  All three pieces usually opposites on the color wheel.  Add in a pair of size 15 shoes with neon orange stripes and it is impossible not to notice him.

The other night, he comes to my room and says, "Mom we need to talk."

This, of course, puts me on alert, but I play it cool.  Don't pounce, let him come to you.
I sleepily set up and nonchalantly ask what he needs.

"My boss pulled me aside tonight...new policy changes...dress code...asked if I even owned pants."

At this point, I'm rolling (and also internally worrying if the question of owning pants was sincere or meant to be funny) but mostly in a fit of laughter from the way he describes their conversation.  He's moaning now, the squirm already inching up his shoulder as he thinks about having to cover his legs.
Tim and I pick on him a few more times before bed and I promise to help him look through his closet in the morning.

The next day he begins the fashion show.  Again, no words are needed as he marches, stiff-legged, out the hallway.  His entire body is tense, as if the blue jeans are physically freezing up his muscles with each step.  One after one, the parade reveals busted zippers, too tight-won't close, and ripped pants.  Two of his jeans have gaping holes in the upper right thigh.  What are you doing to flex and burst through denim fiber in exactly the same spot?!

We manage to find the one decent pair of jeans he was forced to wear to Sadie Hawkins in the fall.  (Seems his girlfriend has more persuasion than momma)  And make a plan to go shopping later that day.

Unsure of his size, as he hasn't been forced to choose a waist/length measurement for quite some time, we load up on a few possibilities and he creates a fort in the nearest dressing room.  Being that he will literally only wear these to work (and probably strip in the car on the way home), I'm going for cheap and scrounging the clearance aisles.  I manage to find a couple under $10, which for the amount of material it takes to cover his football frame, is a steal.

I'm quickly informed; however, they are in fact an impossible color choice.  Apparently, even for a uniform, style matters.  White is not acceptable.  I think about correcting him, as truly they're just a faded washout, but I calculate the irritable scale and decide it is against better judgement to push further buttons.  Under my breath, I do mention that they are a good deal and just work pants but let it go at that.  In the end, we leave an hour later with a couple choices, a few twenties missing from the wallet, and a flustered, red-faced boy.

Saturday night would see his first shift with fully covered legs.  I prayed it wouldn't be too typical of a slammed evening, considering the snowy weather.  Thankfully, he got out in record time and managed to remain fully clothed all the way into the house.

Here's hoping he can survive Tuesday's shift.

And learn to regulate his body temperature before summer arrives.  

One Word 2016

Happy New Year!

I hope the first few days of 2016 have treated you well.  For me, it is back to reality tomorrow, as the holiday break has ended and alarm clocks return.

In all actuality, I didn't really sleep in at all this vacation.  Having a hubby who arrives home in the morning kind of changes your body clock.  Most days I found myself up to spend time with him, drinking coffee before he retired to bed.

As usual the break didn't seem long enough.  Eleven days may look like a lengthy vacation but when you add in the hustle and bustle of Christmas those days breeze by.  But I'm thankful for the break and I did squeeze some rest and relaxation in, as well as quality time with family.

With the new year approaching it gave me time to reflect, learn from mistakes made, and look ahead to the future.  The past several years, I've given up on resolutions (that would be quickly forgotten and failed) and moved toward choosing a word for the year.

Some years God has planted it, some I've just picked a word, but this year I prayerfully considered it. Searching for devotions to start the year, I found a short four day devo focused exactly on finding your one word for the year.  I entered it hopeful God would speak to me and He did, quickly.  I'm always humbled, goose-bump covered, and feel so very blessed when He does.

At first I felt the word was forget, as passages and photos started to appear with that theme.  While I get the message He was sending me (and it certainly incorporates into the chosen word), it also seemed a tad negative to approach the year promising to forget.  Memory loss is a problem in our family, though we often joke about it, and I didn't want that word hanging over my head!

In the end, the word that came to be is focused on letting go of the past and seeing what is ahead.  For me specifically, releasing past hurts and wrongs, stop dwelling on what could have been and what should've been done differently and setting my mind on the future.  For what God has in store.

My word had been chosen.  

The first day of my newly found yearly devotion would find this scripture, I still get goosebumps thinking back to all the ways God confirmed this be my focus for 2016.

The devotional I picked for my phone was random and among hundreds to choose from.  When I selected it, my One Word had already been chosen.  God is so good.

It's a great year for FORWARD to be my one word, as it is a mega milestone year.  I turn 40 in five days.  My baby turns 16 on the 19th.  He could tell you about how many seconds that is, if you ask.  And hubby turns the big 5-0 in September.  Austin, not wanting to be left out says hello, as it will be our 23 wedding anniversary, which is his special number.

I'm anticipating a year of blessings.  

I look forward to the good that God has promised.  And all that I will learn along the way.

Do you choose One Word for the year?  I'd love to hear about it!