Couldn’t help it. I had to open a journal today. But, that journal wasn’t mine.
What? I’m reading someone else’s journal? Here, let me explain.
As you guys are aware, if you’ve read past blogs of mine, you know I’m one who has kept my own journal for eons. I also have kept one for each of my four children so that when they move out, they get to take it with them and read years of memories that stood out in their life. Yep. I’ve cherished looking back, reading what they would some day read themselves. I mean, I sort of doubt they would really remember the day they rolled over for the first time. Godda write that down. I mean, haven’t you ever wondered how old you were when you got a cut on your forehead from falling and hitting the table, needing stitches? Maybe they would recall, after reading about it, that first day riding their bike, or that first time they spent the night over at Grammy and Grandpa’s. But I doubt things like the 20 millions times they would say ‘car’ when ever we would be driving somewhere would be at the top of their memory list. Okay, maybe they could care less how they loved playing Math games on the computer when they were five, or when they got strep throat, but, ya never know. Actually I think it was just for me to write it all down. So many parts of their life meant so much to me and I just had to get it on paper.
The journal I read today was my youngest’s; Carl. Why? Because in a few days my son proves he is no longer a little boy, so I couldn’t help but read a bit when he was. And actually, I want to share with you the very first page of his journal which was actually a bit before he was even born.
December 7, 1996
A little pre-welcome to a little son God plans to let “pop” out of my tummy any time now. The due-date is in six days but hey, I’m ready whenever. This boy is one true wiggle worm inside. Having the boy get bigger inside Mommies tummy, as his big brother words it, hasn’t been too uncomfortable but not really as carefree as his brother and two sisters. — I still can’t believe this boy will arrive a few weeks before Christmas! What a true gift. Also, God planned all the timing. I think He enjoyed planning the age difference of 3 years and 3 month for all of our kids. Yep, this boy, too. 3 years 3 months after Scott who is the same after Trina who is the same after Cassie. Maybe a week or two off but for the most part, all the same distance between.
Almost all the stuff in ready whenever this new Petersen pops out.
So what has me wanting to read this, you ask? Because in a few days I will be seeing my tiny wiggle worm, that was in my tummy almost nineteen years ago, graduate from the Marine Boot Camp as an official Marine.
My little boy. The youngest of our four who has been the first to be gone from Mom and Dad the longest; thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks that felt would never end. But it has! God has sure heard my many prayers for Carl’s sanity and safety these last thirteen weeks. He also knows I’m determined to get a shirt that says something like Proud Mom of a Marine.
At least we’ve been able to write letters back and forth. Every day us at home wondered ‘Will we get a letter today from him?’ and just grinned ear to ear when we did. Yep. His family, Lord willing, will be proudly watching him march, along side with others, all dressed up like a Marine, as a Marine. Can’t wait!
I plan to browse through his journal these next few days and know I will be filling it with comments like ‘I’m sure you wished you could have had more pillows like you have at home’ or ‘Carl, it was weird I never had to buy your favorite ice-cream goodie for thirteen weeks.’ (which reminds me, I need to get some before he gets home) but for sure I’d write ‘Your mom sure missed you BIG time’
Why will I be doing this the next few days? So when I see him that first time in four days, marching with his group, I’ll be keeping in mind, he’s still my baby.