07 April 2012

Eat, Drink and Be Harry!

"When I was inside your body, I was hanging in a hot tub, smoking and gambling. Seriously. Don't gamble." 
Harry:"Georgie, say 'baby'". George: "You're an idiot." 
"Harry, we need to work on your social skills." What social skills? "Exactly."

"Harry, did you have any dreams last night?" Yes! I dreamed I died. "O, well did you see Jesus?" Yes, He's black!

"That's not half bad." Harry comments on dinner
‎"Can I make a 'cacophony' in this enclosed space?" 
"Harry, who loves you?" Me. "Who do you think you are?!" Harry Utley. "Where are you going so fast-you gotta a date?" Yes, with my girlfriend, Charlene.

"Mom, can I play you at Connect Four? I need to boost my self-esteem."

"Mom, watch out! A PopTart is about to come out of my butt." Harry, you are my sunshine. "No, I am your thunderstorm."

Elinore Pruitt Stewart wrote in a letter, "Do you wonder I am so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into one short life." That reminds me of my boy. If Whimsy married Energy and had a baby that baby would be our 3rd child, Harrison Markham Utley. He was named after his great uncle Harry whose cleft chin he has and who was a bad ass WWII pilot. He was given the name Harrison, a nod to the Mister's favorite Beatle. Markham is my maiden name. This boy, who is 9 today, personifies the Horace poem Carpe Diem

My Mister recalls the early weeks (nay, years) of our son's life like some remember being in a POW camp. My husband still shakes a little when he remembers the uncontrollable crying that only Mama could satisfy. I remember things differently. Aside from recovering from my 3rd c-section along with just having my gall bladder removed, it was fine. I had a 3 year old and a 2 year old who played nicely whilst I took care of the baby. It felt almost like I had an only child. For me, going from 2 kids to 3 was a piece of cake. Or maybe that is just the way my memories wish to be written to fit nicely in his baby book-which contain a great deal of photographic evidence that supports my Mister's recollection. 

What I think is that this waif had been waiting so long to interact with another human that he exploded with emotion upon entry into the world-exploded for going on 9 years. He is the child most like me in personality-the good parts and,ahem,the bad. Dramatic, kind, loving,affectionate, quick to fly off the handle and zany to the hilt-he is all me. 

When I look into his clear blue eyes, I see a future man who is kind to his children and nurturing to his wife. His life on earth is but 9 years, but his soul is old as is his wit. His intuition is sweet, and the way he says, "I love you, Mama" is something I hope to hear til my dying day. Every night he asks, "Will you come cuddle me?" Once we are snuggled into his twin size bed, the giggling commences. Often the Mister has to holler, "Quiet down." That boy brings out the silliness in me like no one else. He reminds me to Carpe Diem-or cry trying. 

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