Friday, February 10, 2012

Heart beats and a Heart's view

" 'Stay' is a charming word in a friend's vocabulary." Louisa May Alcott (and the charming typewriter word I chose for February)

J. said a couple of "heart themed" comments worthy of the lovey, leap month:

"Mom, you make my heart beat better."

We were winding down with a book when he said the Hallmark comment. I heart those moments; When my own pace slows down, daily events are digested in time with the rythmn of a good book. During those final moments, before sleep overcomes, gem-like thoughts and refelctions are shared. And deep questions from J. That I always promise to google later.

And when Jaden usually says his most quotable words. (This one was just so... sweet...)As the book ebbed and nudged him toward sleep he said this sweet sentence that I will treasure til only the end of time.

It made my heart smile. I know that the comment isn't really just my doing; that it stems from the power of our routine reading of good books- at night- that make his heart, and mine, beat "better".

This month we have been reading Holes by Louis Sachar. And the one below by E. B. White.

The next heart comment is strictly out of anat and phys. perspective. Yesterday, at his Apple Athletic Club bball practice, his team had been sent to the line to run a number of times and they when they missed free throws- they had to drop and give 5 push-ups. J says it was 10. But I think he was exaggerating.

Despite his hard practice, he wanted to read. So we opened White's book and found out all about the cygnets being born, seen by young Sam Beaver through his binoculars as he sat on a log deep in the heart of Canada; the Cob's cermonial introduction of his 5 furry baby Trumpeters to Sam because he'd earned the trust of the Swan family. And finally we laughed at the one litte Trumpet Swan, who couldn't beep, as he tugged at Sam's shoelace until it untied. Jaden and I looked at the pencil drawing picture of Sam, in his cozy bed, writing about the miracle he witnessed but shared only with his journal.

Despite it being late and being tired, we had to hear more of Stanley Yelnates adventures on God's Thumb in the book Holes. Drowsily we pictured Zero and Stanley stumbling down the steep mountain and the two of them trying to not drink any of the bottled water they'd retrieved from digging a hole in a meadow below the large rock resembling a philange; until they needed it most. We stumbled with both of them as they tried to navigate the dried up lake to find the location where they would dig one, last hole. And that's where J. and I stopped, said the short feeble attempt version of prayer, smooched his cheek and he knocked out cold, without another peep, or moving another muscle curled up in his bed.

He remained in that exact spot until morning When I was coaxing him up he was stiff from the previous night, which explained why he remained in the exact spot I'd left him in the night before.

He attempted to explain to me the muscle pain he was in: "Mom,it is like my heart is in there and can look over and can actually see how much pain those muscles are in."

"Yeh? I bet your heart can see how ripped you are getting!" I tried to say with personal trainer-like enthusiasm to help him get up for the day.

Animatedly I said: "The pain means your muscle is growing. It rips, (I slashe through the air like a wild cat clawing) then as it heals, it gets bigger. Once you get up and get the blood flowing, the lactic acid will lessen and you won't feel as much pain. Sleeping just lets the lactic acid pool in those muscles, and when it sits in one spot, it just kind of freezes in that position and locks in the pain. So when you start to move, it pushes it out."

From a lying down position he listened to me with wide-eyes, gradually he moved to the sitting up position, slowly flexed his muscles, looked left then right as if he were watching traffic before crossing an intersection.

Once he was in the "awakened awareness" position and saw what his heart had seen earlier, he said in astonishment: "They DID grow!"

Finally he moved into a proudness position which was exhibited by full eye contact with me that had conquer written all over them.

The adrenaline rush pushed him outta bed, and into his dressed position. (after exiting the bathroom he flexed again in front of the hall's full length mirror before covering his sore, and newly ripped physique, with a shirt)

And- most importantly- he was propelled forward in a position of catching the bus.

All the above make for a healthy heart!

One more thing- I DID not realize that Dickens' 200th bday was earlier this week.

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