My turkey

Today I left work at 10:00 to go to a Thanksgiving luncheon at Gavin’s preschool and since Grace is sick, the husband offered to stay home with her so I did the whole preschool event single parenting style. I was prepared to sip soda out of Dixie cups and dine on homemade macaroni and cheese, corn bread dressing, and turkey. I was especially prepared to chow down on pumpkin pie bars and rocky road fudge since just last night I had to watch- but not touch- the preparation of the two yummy desserts the husband signed up to prepare.

What I wasn’t prepared for was that I would cry. A lot.

Well, I didn’t really cry but I wanted to cry. I fought hard to hold the tears back and to swallow the giant lump that formed in my throat only minutes after stepped into the preschool’s gymnasium.

At first I wanted to cry because when I walked in, I was overwhelmed with the number of people. The number of grandparents, the number of parents, the number of aunts and uncles and siblings and friends, and second cousins twice removed. There were people with cameras and camcorders and there were tripods and flashes of lights everywhere. Many of the children were being scooped up in the arms of loved ones who pleaded for them to smile for the camera just one more time. Old people were crouched behind chairs playing peek-a-boo trying to get a smile and standing on chairs to try and get the best shot. The majority of the kids were running around with red cheeks from being pinched, kissed, or wiped free of lipstick.

I found my way to the table with Gavin’s placemat but I couldn’t sit down because all the seats were taken. The little boy placed next to Gavin had two sets of grandparents, both parents, and a sister in attendance so they were using up all their designated chairs and then some. I managed to find an empty chair and I sat there, tracing the outline of Gavin’s turkey handprint on his placemat, and looking and listening to all that was going on around me. There was a lot of love in that gymnasium.

[rant]

I started to feel bad for Gavin. I felt bad that this was such a big day for him- his first big holiday school event- and he only had me there. Now I didn’t think Gavin would feel bad. There were brownies, cookies, cupcakes and sprite all readily available and as long as he could get one carbonated, chocolatey hug as soon as he was done, I knew he would be fine but one day he may be old enough to notice. Maybe old enough to notice and feel what I was feeling as I remembered when. I just want so much for him. I want him to have more than what I had. I want him to have the old people on chairs trying to take his picture and the 4 camcorders in his face hanging on his every move and the kisses and the hugs and the spoiling and the doting and all the chairs taken up so the single mother across from US has to go looking for her own chair… I WANT him to have grandparents who see him more than once a year.

[/rant]

All was forgotten, however, and the tears needed to be choked back for a different reason once the door to Gavin’s classroom opened and out marched my little turkey and OMG!!!!! He looked like such a big boy. Well, as big as boy can look with a paper turkey on his head. He stayed with his class and followed his teacher’s direction and lo and behold he wasn’t the kid freaking out who had to be removed before the show even started. He didn’t exactly sing or do any of the hand motions but he sat there and smiled and clapped like crazy with the audience. About halfway through he spotted me (I had the great fortune of finding a chair directly in front of where he was seated) and pointed at me with both hands and yelled “MAMA!!!!!”. I was afraid he would want to come get me but he just smiled and waved and played with (read: poked) the little guy next to him. When it was all done he marched off with his class and waited until I came and got him so we could get lunch.







I know since he is my son I am supposed to think everything he does is perfect and fabulous but honestly, he was perfect and he was fabulous. My face seriously hurt from smiling so big the entire time I watched him. Perhaps my reaction may seem a little over the top (and if it does you’re not a mother) but it wasn’t too long ago that thanks in part to Gavin’s sensory integration disorder, something even remotely close to this would not have been possible. The crowd alone would have sent him into a tizzy and the clapping would have caused him to cover his ears and take off running like a rabid dog.

I am just so proud of my boy and so absolutely in love with him. Gavin may have just had me there, but I guarantee that I contributed a lion's share of the love I felt in that gymnasium.

Love is knowing you're enough.



Happy Love Thursday.