Tag Archives: Fynn

On a jet plane…

Feb 18, 2010 001

There he sat

On his airplane

Books stacked as high as his ears

For reading material on his trip

To see his Grammy

He flew through the air

Piloting his jet plane

Navigating all the way to Florida

Got off the plane

Imagined that he saw his Grammy

And told her it was time to come home…


We dropped her off this morning

And miss her already

Fynn said to me, “I’m just sad Mommy. I miss Grammy”

Paige grunted in agreement

I told him I understood

And lifted him up for an airplane ride around the living room

Arms spread wide open

Eyes dancing with memories



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Today, I understood

There are days when I look at my kids and I’m awestruck. By their hearts, their beauty, their being. The hugeness of it all.

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And I wonder how it’s possible that they are their own beings, and yet so much like me. Like Lucas. Like each other.

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It boggles my mind that I had a hand in creating them. I can’t put into words what I feel… I’m amazed that they can think for themselves, that they have intuitions, that they function. Does that make any sense? They were just babies not that long ago, but now… now they have opinions and likes and dislikes. They’re growing into themselves.

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And we get to watch all of it. The stumbles and falls. The hopes and dreams. We get to see, and sometimes fear, that we live in them.

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Today I stood back and watched my children explore a new place. I watched them learn new tricks. They jumped, and sometimes fell.

Today, I understood.

“Having children is like letting your heart walk around outside of your body.” ~Author unknown


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Cocoa shenanigans

I found him like this…

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…then put the cocoa on the counter and ran to the bathroom for a moment.

I came back and found this…

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…yes, two children taking turns licking hot cocoa mix {and marshmallows} off of the floor.

Notice the pizza thrown aside by Paige to partake in the fun, and the freshly bathed kids…

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And yes, I keep my camera in the kitchen for just such an occasion.

When I’m laughing too hard to scold for a few minutes…


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He sways to Ben Folds in his chair at ‘Donald’s. Fynn sits on his knees, piercing blue eyes darting from one area to the next. He watches a little girl in a sweatshirt covered in ballet shoes as she dances to the ketchup pump.

The accents are thick with Boston.

I’m trying to stay present in this moment. Focus on where we are, trying to not want for another place.

Or something more than Diet Coke from a soda fountain.

The kids meal sits between us. Chicken nuggets, fries, a prize knight atop a squirrel {don’t ask…} and a castle made out of a jug of milk.

He tells me about the knight and how he must find the castle. And then he glances outside and sees someone hurrying by on the street. Going for a walk in the subzero windchill.

Fynn starts worrying that the little boy lost his mommy.

As we leave, he falls in the parking lot. Scrapes his hands and teardrops begin to fall. In a natural mommy moment I scoop him up in my arms, fly across the parking lot to our car. Into the carseat, check hands, check knees, check noses, wipe tears.

Breathe in salty frozen tears. Focus.

He asks about the little boy again. He needs his mommy. He lost his mommy. We need to catch up, mommy! We drive a ways, and he’s satisfied in knowing the little boy must have made it home. He found his mommy.

And we drive to our castle. Princess and King waiting for us. We’re found.


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Snowmen on the brain

He’s got snowmen on the brain
the fuzzy, cuddly, decorated with blueberries sort of snowman…
three year old creativity at it’s finest!

Jan 20, 2010 001


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Passed with flying chocolate icing

He passed. Fynn passed his food challenge. Fynn can now eat peanut butter. I can stop scanning labels for traces of, and might contain… I’m still in a state of disbelief and shock.

We celebrated with a trip to Starbucks, where I said he could pick whatever treat he wanted from the dessert case. Eyes wide open, I picked him up for a better view. His arm outstretched, finger pointing. I knew exactly where it was going. The chocolate cupcake, with icing a mile high. Two please!

My drink order came up, then we took our plate of cupcakes to a corner table. We sat, me and my little guy, by ourselves. Baby sister at home with the grandparents, Daddy at work, it was just me and him. Fynn didn’t inherit just my blue eyes, he’s got a love of cupcakes and icing that tops mine. Chocolate is his happy food, and he’ll do the cutest dance to prove it. Since he was born I had my heart set on dates like this: hot latte for me, milk for him, cupcakes for both. Me and him. Him and me. Just us.

We sat there this afternoon, with the mid afternoon sun pouring in, our eyes squinting from the sun and from laughter. Giggles over icing covered noses and the crumbs that surrounded us. Giving each other bites of our cupcakes. I watched him licking the frosting and smiling from ear to ear as chocolate covered his face. Then they pricked. It took all that I had not to let the tears fall. So I smiled, closed my eyes and threw my head back, smiling a secret thankful smile. The worry was gone. I was not concerned with what was in the cupcake, what could be in it, or what could have been on the machinery. Gone. The years ahead of us hold many worries and concerns, but not that of a peanut allergy and epi pens and anaphylactic shock.

As I write this I’m still overwhelmed with emotions. I’m so thankful that God met us halfway. Had we not been so vigilant the past two years, Fynn might not have passed his peanut challenge. Even when people do as we did, it doesn’t always turn out this way. Fynn’s the exception to the rule {and you could tell by the emotionless allergist’s face, his smile said a thousand words} We did our part, and He saw, heard our prayers,  recognized, and helped the rest of the way. I’m not going  question, or ask why us and not other deserving families. Right now I can only focus on being thankful.

Fynn and I stayed at the coffee shop just long enough to finish our cupcakes and clean up hundreds of crumbs. We walked hand in hand through the doors into the fresh air. My step a little lighter, eyes a little watery. As we headed home he told me over and over how he got to try peanut butter, how he passed his test, how he loved his cupcake. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my belly filled with chocolaty goodness, my legs ached to jump for joy.


I feel the need to add that this post is not intended to gloat about Fynn outgrowing his allergy. We are grateful, but know that not everyone’s situations turn out like ours has. I know there are many families who read this who are coping with food allergies. There is hope for outgrowing them, but if not, hopefully those around us {you} will understand the severity of food allergies and will have compassion and honesty in their hearts. My thoughts are with you, and I’m oddly thankful for the opportunity to have learned about living with food allergies.


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Bits of Fynn

This morning as I jumped into the shower I heard the bathroom door open. I peered around the shower curtain and found my three year old with a few toys, sitting on the bathroom floor.

How YOU doing mommy? {that’s his new thing, and he says it just like Joey on the show Friends… cracks me up every time!}

He sat, and played, and talked to himself for a minute as I shampooed and rinsed.

Can you sing me a song, Fynn?

So he sang. Loud and clear, the alphabet song. The whole way through.

After he belted out a resounding Z he ended with now I know I know I know, sing with me! Yay!

We always clap. And smile. Real honest to goodness proud as anything smiles. Because I am so proud of this little guy. It boggles my mind that he knows how to sing the alphabet song. Even more so, it blows my mind that he can spell his name.

And it warms my heart that he knows his Daddy’s name is Lucas Lastname, but when asked I am always Mommy Lastname.

He is full of surprises, and knowledge, and kindness. Everything and more than I expected a three year old to be. Tonight we read a story about two friends, two best friends. I asked him if he had a best friend. He told me “my sister Paige is my friend” and smiled. He gives hugs and big kisses. Headbutts that are meant as signs of affection. He is all boy, yet so soft around the edges.

We have quite a week coming up. Playdates galore, but also a test. A two hour food challenge that will determine the status of Fynn’s peanut allergy. He knows it has to be done. We’ve talked about it. He says he’ll be brave. There will be scratch tests and patience prodded. But I’m positive he will do wonderfully, no matter the outcome. If all else fails, he’ll sing and end with I know I know I know, sing with me and he should know, we will always sing with him. For him.


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