Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Wet Sacrifice


I requested omelettes for dinner. Chup's seasoned omelettes, fried in his favorite pan and cooked almost to dark, flaky on the outside and soft in the middle.

"I will do it," said Chup "but we are out of ham and cheddar cheese."

So I volunteered to venture out in the downpour, through the leaf-littered soggy streets and over to the market.

But before I could sneak out into the dark, stormy night a little boy yelled, "WAIT MOM!"

I looked at Chup, "I was hoping to get out of here before he saw me."

The Chief appeared by my side, "I go with you."

And with that he marched over to his red push motorcycle in the Green Room. Two days ago he discovered a plastic medieval lancer's helmet in our random dress-up pile and with the use of his impressive imagination it has become his motorcycle helmet, just like Daddy's. He doesn't get on his bike with out it.

As he was adjusting the ill-fitting helmet on his round head I decided I'd break two hearts if I left him behind.

"You can come with me," I said as I reached for his shoes, "but we are going to walk."

Which was fine by him apparently--he gingerly placed the helmet back on to the seat of his bike and quickly went to retrieve his flashlight--a pumpkin orange piece of glowing plastic left over from the bygone Halloween holiday.

"Ready, Mom?" he asked shining the weak light into my face.

Coats. Shoes. Chup found us his travel umbrella, a mini thing perfect for a one person job (or a one-and-a-half person job). We were off.

It was pouring. I could see the flow from the street lights. Cars were sloshing their tires up and down the road. People were running to their destinations, joggers were battling against the windy current and students with backpacks were shielding their heads from the merciless rain. I tried to center myself over The Chief so the umbrella's little coverage kept us both out of the wet.

For his part, The Chief led the way with a steady stream of orange light. His little hoodie hiding an earnest face.

He pressed the button when we wanted to cross the street. And when the light decided to change from red to green, he safely led me on to the busy intersection.

"Go, Mom."

Once inside the market we walked around getting our goods. I balanced ham and cheese in one arm as The Chief repeatedly filled my other arm with his selections. Fruit Roll-Ups, Fritos, Lifesavers. Every time I'd say, "Oh that looks good!" and toss it back on the shelf when he was off looking for the next thing. Except the Lifesavers, because they wouldn't add too much poundage to the load to carry home.

We found Cactus Coolers, Daddy's favorite, so we picked up a box.

I ran into a neighbor I recently met for the first time and said hello. She looked at me like I was a specimen at the zoo she'd never seen before. Her nostrils flared and she turned her eyes quickly away. Her body language was doing the communication for her. But she sorta heaved out a "hi" in my direction.

It was awesomely uncomfortable. I would've reintroduced myself but I made the choice to resurrect that conversation at another time, maybe when I was in better context.

The cashier flirted with The Chief. He totally took the bait and showed off his climbing skills, wrangling the metal dividers with his quick legs.

"Look, Mom!" (But his L is a W--Wook, Mom!)

Was it me he really wanted to impress? I'd like to think, yes.

On the way home The Chief insisted on holding the umbrella.

"Light, Mom," (Wight, Mom) he ordered flashlight duty to me.

At his request I tried walking with a hunched disposition so that I could fit under the umbrella coverage he was so politely offering. A few steps into it I gave up and presented my head to the watery atmosphere. The Chief found himself a new world under his rayon canopy and he lagged behind. His little body was shrouded in the wing span and he looked like a giant, black jelly fish walking down the street.

I was soggy by the time we turned down our street. My short hair wrapped it's tendrils around my cheeks and stuck to my lips. Water invaded my shoes and seeped through to my toes. I was cold and chilled, but my son was happy and dry.

Just an hour before our rainy adventure I had read a talk by Jeffery R. Holland about parents of sacrifice. I thought about my dad at Lake Powell, his skin pink from the sun and body tired from taking care of a dozen kids, a campsite, a boat and the wind. He reminded me of an embattled Indiana Jones. As a child, I always felt especially tender towards my dad when I'd see him physically sacrifice for our needs, but mostly our wants.

Sacrifice is the whole job description of parenthood, isn't? But not the bitter kind so much, the noble kind. The kind that enlarges your desire to do more. It felt satisfying to walk home with my head in the rain so The Chief could discover the wonder of holding an umbrella--a safe, dry cocoon in the middle of a storm--a thrilling and romantic experience.

When we arrived home the kitchen was warm. Chup had already started heating up potatoes in the frying pan. We presented him the Cactus Coolers and I unwrapped a couple Lifesavers for The Chief. I let my wet coat hang up to dry on the coat rack and left my shoes on the floor next to the heating vent.

Chup cooked up a meal worthy of two, wet vagabonds. I ate mine with avocado and strawberry jam. The Chief peeled a part his ham from the egg and ate it in small chunks. We all washed it down with Cactus Coolers.

Sacrifice really does bring forth blessings of heaven, and the most delicious dinner.







Are you reading Kimberly Calder Simmon's Pie blog?



A post by Chup (it's clean)




I am Courtney Kendrick and I have pink rainboots.
c jane on facebook
c jane on twitter

49 comments:

Bethany said...

I love these little glimpses of life. Your perspective transforms them into so much more and reminds me to be intentional with the everyday moments I share with my little girls.

Oh, and I'm glad the bully in your mind let up. Perhaps the omelette won it over?

hello*lucky*holly said...

I prefer a viking helmet for motor biking.

This Girl loves to Talk said...

oh you do these everyday happenings so much better than I! I've been blogging similar things.

and on the weird neighbour note - Maybe she didnt remember you. I seem to have a fairly good memory for people but I now keep my mouth shut for the amount of times people look at me like I'm a pyscho stalker when I say 'yeah I know you', "we've met (insert place)" I know you thru facebook (we have friends in common" and seen all your business) 'you were my first dance at stake dance billions of years ago... you grew up etc....

Yes I no longer say anything until they say they know me, for the amount of times I've been embarrasssed.

rach said...

Avocado and strawberry jam????

Brianne said...

What a fun memory to share. I love that the chief is a very responsible motorcycle driver, especially @ this adorable young age. ;) also right now I am typing this comment to you @ 345 am in the great state of AZ. Just got done feeding my baby & insomnia got the better of me so I thought I'll read some blogs. I was SO happy to see new post from you! Now I can go to sleep. & dream of "singing in the rain ". Thanks now I'm excited to go back to sleep, oh boy maybe I'm back to square 1 because being excited does not help an exhausted mommy of 3 & has insomnia w/ no chance of sleeping on. Oh well @ least you updated & I got smile @ 345 in the morning. ;)

Erin L said...

Love it! I think often about the sacrifices we make as mothers. You said it perfectly!

Reenie said...

Love it!! :)

"Sara said...

Sacrifices for our children...just the perfect thoughts for me to contemplate this morning. Raising two teenage girls often makes me sulky as I feel taken for granted and taken advantage of. Maybe instead of thinking selfishly of myself, I should be thinking of ways to encourage their discoveries and independence, after all, I am trying to raise WOMEN!

Thanks for the cause for reflection.

appledapple said...

Great post and ooooh boy do I want a cactus cooler and a delicious omlet now. A friend of mine brought us cactus coolers back from a road trip she made last year and we the Mama's from the playgroup enjoyed every drop!

Kelley Flint said...

This makes me happy. Thanks for a good start to a day.

Somers said...

I really enjoyed this post. Thank you for sharing your spiritual insights through your delightful blog.

Audra M said...

I so completely enjoyed reading this. You have lifted my spirits and added focus to my day. Something I was praying about not 30 minutes ago. Thank you for continuing to write.

Sending love from North Dakota.

Cardalls said...

I love this! I think not enough people in this world realize that becoming a parent and sacrificing is a GOOD thing and brings you true happiness and joy, not the fleeting kind that so many are slaves to today. It is certainly not instant gratification, but OH the pay offs when you get the rewards are eternal and lasting!

sue said...

Short hair?? Since when? New 'do?!

Becca said...

ha ha- my husband also LOVES cactus coolers. People around here have no idea what we're talking about when we mention them. It's good to know we're not alone in our CC love.

Dana at StrawberryTart! said...

You're back. I was planning on sending you an email today saying how much I missed your long blog where you give us such great insight on you life. I hope you know that for every negative comment there are probably 20+ people who love your writing.

Molly said...

When I was 16 my mom adopted my brother and sister,they were 1 and 5 months old. My mom worked while I watched them at home, we have a bond like no one else. I have a motherly love for them, some people think I don't because I am their big sister. But I tend to think diferently. Funny they call me "second mama" :) Love that! I sacrificed my teenage and college years for them and wouldn't change a thing. Having their relationship with me is way better than some party I got invited to or some date with a jerk. They instantly loved my husband when they met him on our first date, I knew he was a keeper. They always had a great "eye" for some of the guys I dated, ha ha. Even now that they are 13 and 14 they still smell like cookies and dirt and love when I bring them little surprises. Children are such a gift from God and I am very blessed to have had the chance to help raise my brother and sister into the little people they are today!
~Molly P

Bridget said...

Finally. I've missed your writing, but I'm glad you gave us some time to appreciate your cleverness while hoping for more.

Lisa B. said...

lovely.

Christine said...

You are such a fabulous story teller. I loved it.

~Violet~ said...

Awesome post! Thanks for reminding me to slow down & take time to enjoy the small wonders of life & realize those are the times that matter most.

tharker said...

So glad to have you back.

Loved this!

Katie H said...

Loved this. And thanks for the talk reference. You really do make me feel more excited to become a mom, soon. Thanks for that (much preferred to the anxiety I've been having).

Angela said...

where did you ge tthat awesome plastic motorcycle? I have a two year old son and would love to get one of those.

Rachel and her Brasileiros said...

last week (not this past sunday, but the sunday before) we had stake conference. and do you know who were the 2 last speakers? YOUR mom and dad! Neat huh? Your dad provided a little needed comic relief with his jokes, after the previous speakers left us a little misty-eyed.

The Jones said...

Thanks for this today...It brings up vivid memories of how my dad used to look at lake powell too, along with rainy nights on a bicycle...I love your writing Courtney.

Notes from Holly St. said...

what a sweet little adventure to have with your son...!

Lisa said...

Nothin' better for suppa'! Did ya' slide your self into a warm tub of bubbles afta'? Then let the sound of the rain lull you to a gentle night's sleep?

Fresh Hell, Texas said...

I love these glimpses you share not only to read on their own, and they are lovely, but where they take my own mother heart.

I remember nearly twenty years ago taking my infant son to a museum for the afternoon. He was sleeping soundly when the exhibit we were looking at suddenly started ringing. Hidden behind what we we could see where large bells set to timers. My son woke and began to cry.

As fast as I could carry us, I ran from the room while swaddling his wee head in my hands, to protect his ears and he calmed. Those bells hurt. They were too loud for the size of the space and I very much wanted to press my hands to my own ears but I didn't.

It was such a small thing, I can hardly believe I remember it. I do remember, clear as day, the pride I felt in protecting my little boys ears and letting my ring. It felt good to know that my son was protected when he was with this woman who so recently had become a mother, me.

Cody and Kylie said...

So cute! You are such a wonderful and nurturing mom. I hope I can say the same when my little man arrives. :)

Now I am hungry for an omlet.

I'm AE Jones said...

One of your best posts. Amazing. Thank you so much for sharing.

thorney said...

I feel like a guest in our delicious home. I don't eat ham or eggs, but you have me craving a Denver omlet for dinner tonight--my husband would be thrilled to find that on that table :)

--Mari

Shell in your Pocket said...

I just love this post. It is wonderful that you took your son..even in the rain. I don't know why but an omelete is sounding very good right now-

sandy toe

Katie said...

I think you and I are kindred spirits. I recognize myself in you often. Thank you for sharing. I often have the desire to be a better mother and wife after reading what you've written. Not because you seem perfect, but real. Just right.

Tina said...

one of my favorite posts ever.

Melissa said...

I can not even tell you how much I needed this post today....thank you for your kind words of encouragement.

Kim said...

I think that was one of my very favorite posts of yours!

(and my 5yr old son still says "w" in place of "l" so this post was very sweet to me)

turleybenson said...

I found myself nodding reading about you getting drenched to sacrifice for your son. I feel like moms understand that in a way most dads really don't. (at least in this house)

Liz said...

I love this post so much.

Had to google Cactus Coolers. YUM! Might have to look for them here!

Liz said...

I love this post so much.

I never heard of Cactus Coolers, so I googled it... YUM! I've never noticed them in the store before. Will have to check!

ashley said...

um, i am starting to think in cjane mode. i want to end all my blog posts like you do for your sign out.

Misha Leigh. said...

Oh I love this! I love it with all my heart. I love that you included the reward beauty.

Allison said...

I love cactus cooler too. :)

Kris said...

Lovely.

'L's' must be hard. My two year old grandson says "See ya yater!"

Erin said...

My son has that exact helmet. He got it as a gift when he was 2 weeks old. His head is offically just big enough that he wore the whole costume for Halloween and saved the world from Dragons!

Also wondering what was up with your new neighbor? She seemed a little rude...

The Ogden Family said...

thanks for the post. needed it.

thought i would mention: my son (same age as your nugget)wears that same helmet EVERYWHERE. he have to put it by his bed at night. he pulls the eye thing down under his chin...soooo creepy.

The Diva said...

I live in TN and cannot get Cactus Coolers here. I was born and raised in CA, so my addiction started early. Thankfully, my family in CA supports my CC addiction. When my family in CA flies/drives in for my wedding in 11 days, they are bringing me CASES! It's a special occasion beverage in my house now.

shauna said...

Love the black jellyfish description. Beautiful.

Katy said...

This just might be your best blog ever. In my humble opinion