Little Jimmy Dickens

Little Jimmy Dickens

Dear Jimmy,

It must seem funny that this family has come together like it has…and that love knows no distance of time or space. One day you will really get it. I have no doubt about that. You will really get it. You will understand the love and the sacrifice and the overall romance of it all.

I think you enjoy the distance…for several reasons. Mostly, you get to spend a lot of time with your Daddy without sharing him with me, Logan or Parker Dean. You have only Lizzy to contend with when it comes to his attention. And because you love a lot of the same things (baseball, the farm, hunting, fishing), it’s not too hard to get it. There is a lot of beauty in that. You two are totally connected.

Do you know when I first met you, I was so worried about whether or not you would like me? I wondered if you and Logan and Parker Dean would get along. But mostly I wondered if I would be able to love you and Lizzy like I love Logan and Parker Dean. I thought, “That has to be impossible, right?” How could I possibly love these two as much as I love my own kids? I didn’t know them as babies. I didn’t get to hold them and snuggle them and figure out how to help them. But the first time I met you, I knew instantly that everything was going to be okay.

You sat in Parker Dean’s stroller before we went into the zoo. And he was perfectly okay with that. In fact, he just wanted to push you! You, Logan and Parker Dean were instant friends. You played together so well that it felt like you always knew each other. You were always rocking a smile on your face. Your cheeks would light up all pink…your Daddy had already informed me about the little Jimmy Dickens smile, and he was right…it is awesomely contagious.

Over the past four and a half years, I have come to know you as the jumping bean who won’t sit still…even during a Yankee game. You are constantly clicking Nerf guns and bouncing balls on the floor (or the wall…or the ceiling)…always with a smile on your face. You are happiest with a ball of any kind, be it baseball, golf, or basketball.

And, boy, do we love watching you play! Despite the distance, I have had the great privilege of cheering you on at basketball games over the years...and you have really turned me into a baseball fan! I think your Daddy always felt like he could turn me into a baseball fan…but it was you! I absolutely LOVE watching you play. I like watching you sit in the dugout getting coached by your Daddy. I like watching you lean your arm against the fence with your bat down by your side as you cheer on your team. I like the hot Summer days, the exhausting All-Stars season (and the cool bag that came with getting into All-Stars), and sitting in the bleachers. You have really turned me into a fan. I even like watching MLB play. I love that you love Jeter and Judge as much as your Daddy loved(s) Mattingly. I love the you forgive me for loving Didi Gregorius, even though he’s not your favorite.

You have become quite adventurous…with your food choices. And, as a foodie, I love that about you. Do you even remember all of the different foods you’ve tried over the last few years? Gator tail and crab legs at Tacky Jacks during the Familymoon…Crab Claws at Lulu’s…you have even tried sushi! You even liked some of it! As it turns out, there are things out there other than Chic-fil-A and Moe’s. Now keep in mind I don’t knock those things…I love Chic-fil-A and Moe’s…so I get it. But there is this whole world of delicious food out there (I mean, I would never know that I love a peanut butter jalapeño burger if I hadn’t tried one!), and I am so glad that I have witnessed you trying some of it for the first time.

I love that you tell me when you don’t like something I cook. I get that, too. You don’t like the way I cook broccoli. Okay…I won’t make it for you. Believe it or not, I am not in the business of making kids eat gross stuff all the time. I find great joy in finding things that you do like, though. Like my famous sprinkle pancakes! I’ll be coming up to college when you go to Auburn…making sprinkle pancakes for your fraternity brothers…I can see it now!

You are considerate. You are so good at trying to think of stuff that other people like before you make a choice…even though the choice is yours. You love some Krispie Kreme. I know that you prefer that over Dunkin Donuts. And yet, you will choose Dunkin Donuts for breakfast because you know that Lizzy doesn’t like Krispie Kreme! That is really thoughtful, Jimmy, because you know good and well that she could eat dry cereal at home if you really wanted to go to Krispie Kreme. Really thoughtful. And there are plenty of examples of this.

We have so much fun teaching you things (like how to dive) and exposing you to new experiences through traveling. I know that this life we are all living seems a little crazy sometimes, but it has also opened doors to new experiences. I’m not sure you would have had an opportunity to learn to ski or go sledding if we didn’t have this crazy life. You are so good on the ski slope…and you have a blast sledding!

You just love to play and have fun. And we love to play and have fun with you. Some of my fondest memories of you involve games. Do you remember that I sent you and Lizzy a box of games to play with your Daddy before we met? I thought it would give y’all something to do together when you were with him…and you loved it! Guess Who, Uno, and Pie Face all evolved into FaceTime Game Nights. Do you realize that your Daddy and I used to make sure that if y’all were eating hamburgers for dinner on Game Night that we also ate hamburgers for dinner that night? Or spaghetti? Or pizza? I don’t think y’all ever caught on that we were all having the same thing for dinner on those nights!

Some of the best times we have had together have been at Lake Martin with DotDot and Bees (and all of the cousins). Your Daddy didn't grow up going up to the lake, but I did, and I was so excited to introduce you to the world of boating, tubing, and swimming around the boat. The first time we went up there, you Daddy told me not to be too concerned if you and Lizzy didn't like it...because he didn't think you would be "lake kids." I do love it when he is wrong! Kicking you off the inner tube is definitely one of my favorite memories...not just memories of you, but of all memories ever. It was especially fun when the tables turned and you pulled me into the lake when I tried to help you back onto the tube! That was so much fun!

I had the most fun putting together your Flat Stanley scrap book. I wanted it to be the coolest Flat Stanley scrap book that anyone in your class had…just so you would know just how much I loved you. Logan, Parker Dean and I went all over Wisconsin to assemble that thing…we wrote letters and took pictures and gave it a lot of pizzazz. I was truly honored that you asked if you could send Flat Stanley up to us.

You have a voice like an angel. Every once in a while I get to hear it in the car because you usually sit right behind me. And sometimes I hear it at night when your Daddy plays the guitar and we all sing before we say our bedtime prayers. I know it’s probably not your favorite thing to do because it doesn’t involve playing with a ball, but I love it when you sing. I love it when we all sing and pray together. That is my favorite family activity.

I hope you realize that, over the past few years, I have learned that it is definitely possible to love children who didn’t come out of your belly just as much as you love the ones who did. The biggest difference I can think of in how I treat them and treat you is this: Sometimes I feel guilty because I want to snuggle you like I’ve snuggled Logan and Parker Dean their whole lives…but I am trying to be respectful of your space because I don’t know if you would welcome that. But please know that I would welcome that if you ever felt like you needed a snuggle or a hug from me. 

I also think that sometimes you think I am hard on you. And I am sometimes…just like I am hard on Logan and Parker Dean and Lizzy. Think of me as a Coach. Your Coach will ride you because they know you can be better. If your Coach stops riding you, it’s because they’ve given up on you. I will not give up on you. I will continue to coach you…all of you. But I will also be a cheerleader...cheering on all of your accomplishments...big and small.

Happiest of birthdays to you, Jimmy Dickens. You are a bright and shiny blue sky, a sunny day, and I am a Jimmy Dickens fan. I love you.

Bean

A Decade of Bear

Dear Bear,

Today you are ten years old. On your third birthday, I
wrote you a letter

(http://beansbreastcancerblog.blogspot.com/2011/10/),
thinking that one day you would stumble upon it. Oh,
how I hoped to be a fly on the wall when that happened.
I imagined that it would be after I was long gone, and
that DotDot would show you how to find it…or that you
would be doing research for a paper and come across it
on your own. But I should have known better than that.
You like to ask questions, and I don’t like to feel left out!

I’ll never forget the conversation that we had last year
about blogs. I asked you what you knew about blogs,
and you blew my mind. You knew an awful lot. I told
you that I had a blog, and you immediately asked to
read it. I told you that you weren’t ready yet. You
negotiated a peek, in true Logan fashion. I let you read
the letter I wrote to you. We were sitting in the Dunkin
Donuts parking lot. You were silent. I turned around to
see if you had finished reading, and you put the phone
in your lap, still silent. Your eyes were swimming in a

pool of tears that refused to drop. I told you I loved
you, and your response was, “I know you do...now.
Thank you for letting me read that.” We both bawled.
You unbuckled and crawled into the front seat with
me, and I hugged you a big hug. I am so glad that got
to be there when you read that letter.

You have a wonderful curiosity about the world
around you. You love to explore. You climb trees. You
get stuck in them. You get cut out of them. Then you
climb them again. You know who you are, and you
are proud. You are so confident. You probe. You are
constantly asking me questions about when you were
a baby, and I think to myself, “Wasn’t that just
yesterday?” It wasn’t. We have come a long way since
I first wrote you that letter.

You haven’t changed much either. As I have read that
letter many times over the past 7 years, I have often
been in awe of how developed your personality was
at that age. Honestly I could tell a million stories
about pokie fish and triangles and beating bed bugs
(not literally) with a shoe. I could go on and on
about you singing “3 Little Birds” on stage at a
concert, or the significance of that song. I could
talk about sushi or flossing or cactus costumes until
I was blue in the face. Because you love to hear
stories about what an extraordinary boy you’ve
always been, I’m going to share some of my favorites
here. Roll your eyes all you want to. Pronounce the
word “ugh” as “uhhhhgg,” drawing it out long and
emphasizing the “g.” Nervously fidget with your
fingers touching your lips…whatever it takes to get
through this letter.

Your pre-school teacher stopped my hustle and
bustle at pick-up one day to tell me a story. I
thought, “Oh, no. What has he done now?” She
told me about how, at 4 years old, you wanted to
sort the foam alphabet interlocking tiles in order.
You assembled a group of girls from the class (4
or 5 if I recall correctly), and directed them to find
each tile and put them together. When the girls
got stuck, you did not tell them what letter came
next. Instead, you lead them in the ABC’s and yelled
“STOP!” when they reached the next appropriate
letter. The teacher pointed out your natural
leadership abilities, and at that point I laughed,
saying, “Yeah…I’m pretty sure he will be a lawyer,

a preacher, or (heaven help us) a politician.” I have
no doubt that stands today, given your love of rules,
your strong negotiating skills, your ability to lead,
and your charismatic story-telling ability. I do
wonder where those traits came from. ;-)

There was a night that we drove down Franklin
Street. Franklin is the steep hill that goes from our
house on the east side of town to the downtown
area. As the leaves change colors in Wisconsin,
Franklin is nothing short of magical. Between the
maples lies a view of the west side of town
blanketed by the dark night sky. If you catch it at
the right time, the moon lingers in that space
between the trees. I’m not sure where we were
going that night. I’m not even sure of what time
of year it was, or if the leaves were in full color.
But I remember silence. I remember you saying,
“Mama, I think that moon stole somebody’s smile.”
I looked to the sky to find the most perfect
crescent moon. I looked back at you…so peaceful,
so imaginative…just staring out the window, so
unaware of how you just touched my heart. Those
moments haven’t stopped as you’ve grown. You
even had a conversation with James this month
about how the moon looked like an orange slice.
I’ve caught your day-dreaming more times than I
can count, and I often wonder what vast
adventures are bouncing around in that head of
yours. I’ve wanted to join you every time. Keep
your head in the clouds, Sunshine…as you told
me sometime in the past year, “The clouds have
stories to tell.” You deserve to hear every one of
them.

There are times where your imagination kind of
freaks me out. Like the time that we were
snuggling in your bed and you were petting my
hair. You said, “I love your hair.” I had a
flashback to when you were 3, rubbing my bald
head, telling me that I was cute. And then you
said, “I wish I could cut if off and make a blanket
out of it so that I could sleep with it forever and
ever.” Ummm, that was the line from cute to
creepy, and you just crossed it. There was also a
time when you told me that I would always have
a place in your bed to snuggle you…right between
you and your wife. I rolled onto the floor laughing,
and I thought, “Your wife is going to love me!”
Mostly, though, your creativity helps you in areas
you couldn’t imagine.

You are so clever…and funny. We sat in church
one day…you were 4 or 5. Parker Dean was in the
nursery, and it was just you and me. You picked a
pew 4 rows from the front, and you would have
sat in the front row if I hadn’t talked you out of
it. I told you that the closer you sit to the front
the more responsible you have to be because
everyone behind you can see your every move.
You said you understood. The Sunday School
teacher gave you an M&M cookie in a Ziploc
bag. It looked delicious, and you wanted it
badly. In a moment of sanity, I told you that
you could have the cookie after church…if you
behaved. I was not counting on you getting that

cookie. I was gearing up for a fight. You were
pretty still. And I was proud that day. Then it
came time for the sermon. You got squirmy. I
wrote a note on the bulletin and slid it over to
you...you see, you were also an incredibly
advanced reader for your age.  The note read:
"I will eat your cookie." I looked at you, and you
straightened up right away…still as a statue.
That may have been the first time I listened to
a sermon without distraction in over 4 years.
As the preacher wrapped up, I looked at you
and smiled. Then I noticed you glance at my
thigh. The bulletin was under my left leg. I
pulled it out and read the words: "Then I will
eat you." I wasn’t the only proud one that day.

I was so proud of myself for taking the Love
and Logic parenting class. I needed something
that worked. You were so independent that I
couldn’t get you to do anything without
yelling and fussing and crying and time outs
and spankings. I was exhausted. You were
winning. Then I learned that all I had to do was
to not lose my cool with you. Eventually, if I
said something twice, I would follow it with
“That’s two.” You no longer got a third chance.
You knew that “two” meant business. Now all
I have to do is say your name and hold up two
fingers and you do what I said the first time. You
know, that time you acted like you didn’t hear me
but really you did? If you argued with me (which
was all the time), all I had to do to leave the
argument was walk away while saying, “I love
you too much to argue about it.” Argument
ended. #winning. You crawled into bed with me
one night, and I groggily told you to go back to
your bed. You said no. No? Really? “Go back to
bed, Bear, that’s two.” You rolled away from me,
snuggled into my down comforter, and scooted
your little butt up next to mine. “I love you too

much to argue about it,” you said. You won that
one…hands down. Or did you?

You are a really good “big.” I mean it. You are so
loving and helpful with Parker Dean. You celebrate
when he does something well. You encourage
him when he doesn’t. You play so well with him.
You have never known anything to be just
yours…you share because it makes things more fun
when others can participate. You are genuinely
excited for others. Remember on Parker’s 3rd
birthday when he was a total grumpapotamus and
you were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? You were
like a chipmunk – all chipper and happy, bouncing
in his face. You kept saying, “It’s your birthday,
Parker! Aren’t you excited? This is the best birthday
ever!” You didn’t care that it wasn’t your birthday
…you were genuinely excited to celebrate him.
That’s just how you are…and I love that about you.
You are a nurturer. You are social. I have no doubt
that, one day, you will take care of me and Parker
Dean will provide the financial resources. This is
where you say, “Hey!” And then you throw your
hands up because you know I’m right.

You are also a really good “little.” From the day
you met James, Lizzy and Jimmy, they were your
family. You are like your aunt JayJay that way.
Whenever you are asked how many people are
in your family, you say “7” without skipping a
beat. There are always 2 dads and there are
always 2 brothers and 1 sister. Family is important
to you. You love your Mama and your Daddy and
your James...you love all 3 of your siblings. You
love all of your grandparents and
great-granddaddy. Your heart knows no distance.
I love that...so much. And I get it.

You are perceptive. One time, while you were in
the bathtub, I asked you a question. I asked how
you thought it would feel if I said, “Logan…Jimmy
is my favorite child. Then Parker Dean. Then
Lizzy. Then you are my fourth favorite! You’re
still one of my favorites, but my fourth favorite.”
You pondered for a second, and your response
was so astute. You said, “I don’t know what kind
of lesson I’m about to learn, but I bet it’s a good
one.” You never once thought that I loved any of
you over another. You knew better than that.
You knew that there was a lesson in my
example…even without me telling you that. And
I bet you will never again tell your friends about
how they rank in your world.

You deny that one day you will tell me that you
are too cool to hug on your mama, but I think
that deep down you know that it is coming. I
always try to tell you that, when that happens,
it will hurt me deep down…but that you are
not responsible for my feelings, and I am
allowed to have them. I also tell you that it will
be okay, because there will come a point when
you want my hugs again, and I will happily give
them to you. I do know, with all of my heart,
that you love me more than I think is fair.

Watching Alabama football with you is one of
my favorite things on this planet. I love how
excited you get, that you yell at the TV, that
you wear your Bama gear, and that you
genuinely love the game. I love it when you
tell me that you are going to play football at
Alabama in college. You dream big, baby.
Dream big. I’ll have the Campbell’s soup
waiting. Just make sure you move when you
fall…because your mama is watching, and
she needs to know your limbs and spine are
intact. Roll tide.

You are a Southern boy deep down. It comes
out when you lovingly mock my accent. It
comes out when you run off the pier into
Lake Martin, without a care in the world. As
much as you love the lake, you also love the
Country Club, formal church, button up shirts,
shaggy hair, and Chic-fil-A. Yes, Bear, in those
moments, I know that you are Southern at
heart. You tell me that you will move to
Alabama someday. Whether you do or you
do not, I hope that you do what makes you
happy and healthy, all the while knowing
that I love and support you with all of my
being.

What I never saw coming was your deep
appreciation for and love of Jesus. Bear, you
are faithful and forgiving and ready to
spread the Gospel beyond my wildest
dreams. You want people to know Jesus. I
cannot wait to see how the Holy Spirit
works throughout your life. Stay steadfast.
Be the spiritual head. Keep talking to God
like he’s the best friend you’ve ever had.
Know that He will never leave you. Say
the blessing. Share the good news.
Remember to pray…any time…any place.
Be strong. Be courageous. Let the wisdom
of Scripture flood your heart.

How are you 10 years old? Where did
that time go?  It seems like just yesterday
that I was wondering why they were
sending us home from the hospital without
any training or instructions! Yet, here we
are...10 years later. You are no longer a
child, but a tween. My job now is to let you
take everything that I’ve taught you and
put it into practice, making good decisions.
And in 10 more years, you will be an adult.
That’s a tough thing for this mama to
imagine.

I cannot wait to watch you grow over the
next span of time. I pray that you do not
endure heartache or illness or trauma or
disappointment or drama, but I cannot
promise you that you won’t. What I can
promise you is this…this wasn’t the first
letter I wrote you, and it won’t be the last.
I am healthier than I have probably ever
been, and I plan on being around for a
very long time. My 7 ½ year check-up
was last week. Labs look good. No lumps.
No pain. No cause for concern. God
continues to bless me with more time to
get to know you. You, Bear, are stuck
with me. I will be with you through
anything that comes your way, and as
you grow my role will change from
protector to supporter, from coach to
cheerleader. Whatever my role, I hope
you know, without a doubt, that I love
you for everything that you are…always.

Happy birthday, Sunshine…Bear…Lo.
May we have many more.

I love you bluer than the sky. Mom