Never Forget to Say Thank You by Dahna Weber

It’s about 2 a.m. and I’m doing my usual….up late….working…piddling…quiet me time.  I know I’m going to be sorry in the morning when the boys wake up.  Yes the boys.  My nephews are in town and you know how it is when they multiply- they wake up even EARLIER!  So at this point I’m expecting a mere 4 hours before the stirrings commence.  I slip into Liam’s room and see the 3 little monkeys sprawled all over the bed and one another.  (The 3 of them were on a queen mattress).  My Liam wakes, sits upright and is all disoriented.  I say, “I love you sweetheard”.  He replies, “Thank you”.  All those years of “Say Thank You”!  Call it indoctrination, call it politeness.  At that moment it filled me up.  By Dahna Weber


Gray and Wrinkly by Dahna Weber

I’m reading all this inspirational, self-affirming material of late and then out of left field comes this one……

The other morning, I am in the car with my boy and carpooling two other kids.   The boys are singing Kung Foo Fighting and I join in.  My son’s face starts to contort into an embrarassed NOT cool shape!  I can remember that not cool feeling.  I told them that the songs they are singing lately and learning on their Guitar Hero, were really songs from when I was young.  I told them that the Pat Benatar song Hit Me With Your Best Shot was number one when I was 16.  Suddenly the little girl asks “How old are you, Dahna?”.  After saying I’m 42, my protective son, (his name Liam actually means that!), pipes up: “Yeah.  She colors her hair”.  I laugh out loud and mention that my folks both became gray quite young and that there is a strong genetic influence on such matters.  So for a split second I thought my rationalization had worked.  And then comes the sledgehammer- “Yeah, but you can tell by the wrinkles anyhow”!

When I walked into the house and looked in the mirror I began: “Wrinkles are beautiful”!  by Dahna Weber

The Comfort of Hair Stroking by Dahna Weber

I can remember being a little girl….and sometimes waking up and finding my dad sitting on my bed stroking my hair.  I remember being filled with so much comfort, security and love at those moments.  Now, each night my precious boy is with me, I always stroke his hair and kiss him before I go to sleep.  I am amazed at how much love fills me; at how much I can love this person.  It’s bursting.

And then tonight.  He had his buddy sleep over for the night.  Something I believe he likes to do more than most children due to the fact he is an only child.  I try to make that happen for him as much as I can.  In order to calm them, I lied between the two of them and read to them.  As I was reading Liam said, read it with a funny accent.  And so in a mix of Cockney and London snobberish lilts, I continued.  They loved it.  So I continued on in this manner.  After a bit, I noticed that my son had started to stroke my hair.  He has never done this before.  Still somehow I knew he was doing it to show his appreciation and comfort at having me near him, and being his mom. 

I am filled with joy, love and appreciation.  And of course have tears streaming down my cheeks. I definitely did something right.  So did my dad. 

by Dahna Weber

Wishbone Strategies by Dahna Weber

So we found one.  A wishbone.  Why is that always exciting?  It’s been sitting on the window ledge for a good 10 days now.  When I wash the dishes, (not as often as I should), it stares me in the face asking; What are your wishes? What are Liam’s wishes? When are we going to do this?  It has made me contemplative.  Made me notice how the bulk of my wishes are all wishes for Liam…even when they are about me.  I try to think of ways I can make sure he wins when we do hook pinkies and split the bone in two.  It’s like the coin toss.  No way to cheat.  No way to strategically guarantee that Liam wins…..Guess I’ll just leave it up to fate and wish that he wins and his wish comes true!!  by Dahna Weber


Vegas for the Big Boys by Dahna Weber

I’m the one that came out the big winner.  My 9 year old son came home from Vegas last week.  He was out there over the holiday period with his dad for a few days.  And boy did I miss him.  After 5 days apart I was dying.  Really missing him in a big way.  He came home really late at night and collapsed into bed.  The real winnings came the next morning when he just wanted to sit and chat with me all about his trip.  It’s normally hard to get even a sentence out of him on how something was and yet that morning, he was all verbose and going on into great details about David Copperfield, the Blues Brother’s signed guitar he wanted to buy and all the people he saw smoking everywhere that disgusted him.  It’s strange how in the course of only a few days you really see how your child is maturing.  My big boy really did hit Vegas adn came back a bigger boy than ever.  Will someone please tell me how to slow him down?  He’s getting big too quick for me…… Dahna Weber