turning 9

Dear Mason,

Somehow in the middle of all of the December mayhem, you turned 9.

It's unbelievable really, and until you're living the days that turn into years that speed right before your very eyes faster than you're prepared for them to, do you truly understand what people mean when they say "you're going to miss this."

I'm already missing it and it happened only 15 days ago.

15 days ago I picked you up from school and headed back to Hermiston.  You thought we were going to the Panda Inn Buffet for dinner and didn't understand why we had to wait for dad. I tried to keep you both entertained as we sat in the parking lot at Heller & Sons, but you were restless and I was exasperated.

What did I expect?  You had just celebrated your birthday all day long and managed to have a couple of extra ice cream bars left over from your classroom party to boot.  A sugar high turned sugar low, exhaustion, and hunger for more excitement aren't good ingredients for a joyful wait in the car on any day - let alone your birthday.

As the seconds turned to minutes, your frustration level mounted, but being the intuitive mom that I am, I decided to call your dad and have him to just meet us there.  You breathed a sigh of relief thinking we were just going next door, but that sigh quickly turned into sobs as I drove out of Hermiston toward Tri-Cities promising you that you'd love where we were going.

You wanted nothing to do with any of it.  I had ruined your birthday.  You wanted to go home.  I only do what I want to do and never listen to you.  ... It went on and on and on.

I kept driving, turned the music up a bit, and ignored your tantrum the best I could - quietly laughing to myself, but kind of wanting to cry too.  At 9, you still know how to throw a fit that sends me into another place in my mind entirely - and not in a good way.

5 minutes later, you and Mack were sound asleep and we were 25 minutes closer to one of the greatest entertaining meals of your 9 year old life.

When I parked the car, you woke up a bit disoriented and still upset. You read the sign and insisted that you hated Japanese steak or whatever it was we were going to eat, and I laughed out loud.  Oh Mason, you are your father's child.

Your dad's pickup pulled into a spot just a few spaces down from ours  within minutes, and when the doors opened and you saw Papa & Mor-Mor, Mimzy and your dad get out, you tried to hide your smile and act like you weren't surprised, but you were.  Mor-Mor gave you a tight squeeze, sang a quick song. and then did her very best to convince you that this was going to be the best birthday dinner ever.  You still weren't convinced, but your frustration was gone and we headed inside.

The rest of the story doesn't need words.  It just needs snapshots of the joy the next 2 hours held.  Joy that couldn't have been bought any other way.  Joy that was worth the agony that lead up to the moment you realized this was going to be something very special.

You're 9 ... and your wishes may not all come true - if you even believe in that sort of thing ... but you certainly aren't ever going to forget what it's liked to be surprised in the best kind of way any time soon.

May you grow to appreciate the surprises life hands you - accepting them with grace and a whole lot of happiness - because honestly Mason, life is supposed to be celebrated and trusted and believed in even when it doesn't make sense.  Someday it will make sense and you'll be glad you chose joy!

Loving the 9 year old you with all that I am,

Mom