Monday, February 9, 2009

Coffee Shop With Budge

I thought my second child was the biggest baby in the whole world. Pictures of him from those early months reveal a jovial soul surrounded by rolls and rolls and rolls-big head, big body- he was just plain big. So I started calling him, ever-so-affectionately, "Pudge." But as his first Birthday approached, I figured that I'd better reinvent a nick-name for this child, lest he be known by a rather unflattering term for the rest of his life- so I switched it to "Budge" (well, and sometimes "Wudge"). It has stuck and more often than not, you will hear me calling him by those names, rather than by his more eloquent, legal name, of "Liam." (Coincidentally, my son, Benjamin's best-friend, Carl, is known to EVERYONE as "Pudge"- named after Carlton Fisk, the baseball player. Between Budge and Pudge, there is a lot of confusion in our household).

Monday evenings are really special for the two of us, Budge and I, because we go to our guitar lessons and then, as long as I have cash in my purse, we stop at the coffee shop next door for a treat (they make some really divine cookies- and chocolate cake with butter cream frosting, which I found out about tonight, thanks to the suggestion of ol' Budge).

As we shared the four layer splurge, I watched him, and his deep blue eyes, and just tried really hard not to engulf him in my arms and layer his head with kisses (I succumbed to the temptation a couple of times, to his chagrin). We talked about rock and roll and other things, which I can't remember, because I was too happy just to be alone in his presence.

As I went to get napkins from the stand behind us, I saw a box asking for donations. Reading further, I was horrified and saddened to read of the deaths of two brothers from the town next-door, last summer (the donations are for a skate park to be built in their memory). The older brother drowned trying to save his younger brother, while they were on a camping trip with family. The thought of losing just one of my children is more than I can bear, any day, but TWO of them? As a mother, this is a nightmare beyond measure and, after Liam and I deposited our change in the slot, I left the shop deep in thought about how lucky I am to have four healthy children and how life can be so fleeting.

Here is a link to the website for Pitcher Park. May that mother get her wish and may the citizens of this town, and others, give generously to make that happen.


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Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States
Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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