I believe there are people in our life that nudge us on when life deals us, what we believe to be, a bad hand. I have quite a few people I can only hope, after my time here on earth has passed, know what they meant to me.
“I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker.”
- Helen Keller
One of those people I have the privilege to call "husband". My husband treats me the way he wants to be treated, even when I am being a jerk. He is my constant reminder that there is humor in everything. Sometimes, well most times, when I am hugging him, I wonder if he is thinking what I am thinking, which is, "There's no place I would rather be. No place I feel more myself, than these arms." My husband works so hard, and long hours, to provide for us. He may not see all the benefits, he might not have a hot meal on the table when he returns home. He might not always have clean underwear... but he never complains. His attitude is always pleasant. He never loses his temper. He is not an emotional spender. He never overreacts. He is pretty much the opposite of me in every way.... down to the music we like. My husband is my hero.... He is constantly saving the day by fixing the toilet, fixing the sink, hanging this and that on the wall, making last minute pit stops, making sure our bills are paid, the yard looks good, the cars have gas... and oil... and water... all the little things I get overwhelmed with.
My 5 year old son, Lake, is my hero. Yesterday he saved the day by pointing out a Black Widow Spider in our living room. He yelled, "Mommy! There is a very poisonous spider in the living room." I asked him how he knew and his response was, "...Because it has a red spot on it's back!" Sure enough, there she was, covered in evil, running across the floor, then up under the coffee table. She even tried to fake dead when I hit her with a shoe. I tried to pick her up with a paper towel and she took off again. Thank goodness, my friend Kelly was there, with a shoe again. I might not have reacted so quickly if he hadn't of said "a very poisonous spider". My son, who is like a sponge, remembers EVERYTHING. He learned in school about poisonous spiders. We watch "snake shows" and "tornado shows"... we look things up on the Internet. He is so inquisitive and never forgets what he learned. He wants to be an Architect. He says, "I no longer want to be the construction worker. I want to draw what they are going to build." He is brilliant
and I know God has great plans for him. My son is my hero.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Orkin Man is also my hero ...enough said.
“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.”
Christopher Reeve (aka, Superman)
Last night I was holding Lennon and swaying her in my arms, as she was rubbing her sleepy eyes. I started singing (randomly) "I can be your hero baby. I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by your forever. (*oh yeah*) You can take my breath away" and tears filled my eyes. I tried to fight them, but as usual, I am no match for a sappy feeling. I continued to sing this quietly over and over until she was barely awake. Tears streaming down my face and onto her little yellow pajamas with pink flowers. I continued to sing the song... then I switched it up a little... started singing it in my "Hispanic Accent"... that's when she started giggling and I realized she was only faking being asleep.
My daughter Lennon is constantly defying the odds and proving she is a force to be reckoned with. Her crawling skills can be compared to none. When she was nine moths old, the day she started crawling, she proved herself, with her determination and her strength. She crawls with purpose, with speed, and precision. She reminds me of a little pick-up truck on RC Pro-Am. Sometimes I imagine there are little "power-ups" all over the floor and she is picking them up as she rounds the corner, picking up speed and racing away from Mommy, who is just trying to get her ready for bath... or bed... or anything really. Little "oil slicks" disguised as spit-up spots are no match for her. By the end of the day, my little pick-up artist has gathered all her N-I-N-T-E-N-D-O letters and is ready for bed... only to start the race all over again tomorrow.
As of now, crawling is slowing becoming a second fiddle to walking. She is 15 months old and walking. She is meeting "average children" milestones left and right. She is in the 75% for height.... I pray she is tall like all of her 2nd cousins on the Davidson side. Even though she cannot (translate: will not) eat without me feeding it to her in a spoon, she wows me with her "vocabulary". If you aren't paying attention, you might miss it, because yes, it does sound like blabber... but every now and then you can hear what she is trying to tell you. She repeats most of what we say. When we take her out of her high chair she says "Ahhh duhhn". When we open the blinds or the door she says, "Ouss-sigh". When she sees her Little Quack Counts book, she says, excitedly, "Duck!" When she really wants me to come get her or love on her she screams, "Mnlah Mnlah" (this was hard to put in letters... just stick your tongue over your bottom teeth and bottom lip - let it hang out your mouth at bit and say Momma). When she points at something she wants or wants to know what it is, she says "Dat?" She moves her hands like a foot ball umpire saying "no good" - even more so, sticks her tongue out and blows spit - when she doesn't want to do something. She screams "Buh Buh" while beating on Lake's bedroom door when he is sleeping or locks her out.
She has learned to communicate.
She has learned to walk.
She has learned to manipulate you into feeding her so she doesn't have to.
She now eats anything, with any texture.
She now holds her bottle, her sippy-cup, and her cup with a straw all by herself.
She now plays with toys as they were intended to be played with.
Lennon is an over-comer. I sometimes look at her playing, watching her feed her babies or love on them, and I tell her, "Girl, quit playin'! You're just pretending to have Down Syndrome!"
Her joy surpasses all others. Her determination will take her far. There is nothing she won't do.
So, last night as I was singing "Hero" to her, I realized something...
Not only will I always be her hero... but she will always be mine.
All that she has been through, all that she could face in this big scary world...
I have no doubt it has, and will, only made her stronger.
It will be the force that drives her to overcome any obstacle in her way.
Her stubbornness will be her sword....
And her mother will be her shield.