Easily Excitable

Last Thursday night found the Meadows + Kotara crew at a celebratory dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. 

The meal? Great.

The company? Chaos. 

Just the way we like it. 

We started out normal enough- or, really, as normal as our crew can be- but needless to say, by the end, things had devolved substantially. 

By the end of the meal, we were playing a game where we guessed each other’s percentages of craziness. 

Here’s how the game worked: 

If it were my turn, I would write down what percentage of crazy I thought I was on my palm. 

Then, the pen would be passed around, and everyone else would write down their perceived percentage of craziness for me. 

Then, we would go one by one and reveal them to everyone else. 

What could possibly go wrong here, right? 

This game was punctuated by numerous FaceTime calls.

They came in from Walker and Hanna as they tried to connect the twins to Zayden. 

There wasn’t great service in the restaurant, so these calls involved everyone shouting out instructions to whomever was holding the phone at that time. 

It ended with Zayden shouting to Walker on speaker phone. 

Oh, bliss. Oh, peace.  

I’m sure this was much to the pleasure of all diners in the room.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be in a normal family. 

Do you get bored? 

What do you do for fun? 

Do you dine quietly and wonder why another family seems to be bound and determined to burn any given venue to the ground?

That ‘another family?’ 

That’s us. 

The occasion? 

It doesn’t take a special event. 

But in THIS case, we were celebrating Zayden’s 10th birthday. 

HOW IN THE WORLD DID THAT HAPPEN?!

This past summer I was sitting in the chair with Zayden, and I thought to myself,

“He’ll never be this young again.”

That is a sad thought, and sad thoughts are normally ones I try to steer away from. 

Specifically, we can’t be too precious about him because we’ll all be a weeping mess if we get started up. 

I come from a family of easy criers. 

When Zayden was born, I was a sophomore in college.

I was away at Georgia College and State University, and I got the call that Caroline was in labor. 

Aubri and the rest of the crew pulled up to the school and sprung me out of my imaginary math class. 

What a big day! I had a birth to attend. 

Thank goodness I was wearing my good yoga pants. 

That day was steeped in errors on my part, a tableau of disaster: I…

• Got lost en route to the hospital (what is wrong with me), 
• Walked into the room before Caroline got her epidural (she roared, “GET OUT!”) 
• Drove back to Milledgeville that night to compete in a synchronized swimming meet (to Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA”)
• Drove through a torrential downpour to get back to the hospital
• And, perhaps most disastrously, found myself in the delivery room watching my sister give birth. 

Wondering why we don’t have kids yet? 

It’s because of the scene I was exposed to at the tender and impressionable age of 20 years old. 

I saw them pull out a scalpel, and I swear I levitated and had an out of body experience. 

I saw all I needed to see in that moment. 

Anyways, then came the years of figuring out how to look after this little baby. 

Now, let the record state: 

Anytime you hear me talk about Zayden, it likely seems like I’ve done a lot more than I have. My parents have done the lion’s share in raising Zayden: 

All I’m good for, really, is popping in just long enough to get him all excited, then leaving for everyone else to deal with the ensuing chaos. 

At least, that was the case up until 2017 when I moved back home, making us the only two Meadows children still living at home.

He was 3. I was 21. 

We fought like cats and dogs.

But we’ve recovered! Somewhat. 

Everything is all fine and dandy until we start playing Uno. Then? It’s right back to World War III.

The past few years have flown by: 

They’ve been a whirl of Llama Llama books, PJ Mask inflatables, Paw Patrol episodes, and Happy Meal toys. 

There was a traumatizing potty training incident (I’ll go no further- Zayden might read this one day), lots of swimming, a sprinkle here and there of dyeing Easter eggs, a few afternoons riding the Ranger (boiled peanuts in tow), and some working together in the garden.

In truth, the craziest thing is this: Zayden and I, to some degree, grew up together. 

Only, obviously, we are in two different stages of life. 

After coming home from college, one of the constants has been seeing Zayden just about every day. 

In all that togetherness, you almost miss the ‘growing up’ that happens in front of your eyes.

Our boy isn’t that shirtless, drooling toddler anymore. 

Now, he’s more likely to be shirtless and sweaty (and, being that we are in Georgia, always covered in gnats).

He’s a lot faster now, though he still sticks his butt out when he runs. 

He’s traded in Paw Patrol for Harry Potter, but it should be said that he still has quite the penchant for dogs (only, in real life). 

Rather than telling you about Pokemon CharZar’s stunning power, he’s more likely to give you a rundown of Justin Jefferson’s stats from last season on the Vikings. 

I think what’s so shocking about him growing up is…

Well…the fact that he’s growing up. 

Age only goes up: I’ve never really thought about this all that much. It’s a duh thing until you really take it to heart. 

The only Zayden Meadows I know will never be in his Paw Patrol stage again. 

He’ll never be learning how to swim again. 

He’ll never have his speech impediment again (“No- yuh a heifuh!”)

He will never have to potty train again (thank goodness). 

A couple times a week

Specifically when he has no screen time, Zayden’s been coming up to the trailer. He’ll knock at the door and proceed to come in and chat for a bit. 

He likes to hang out. 

He likes a change of scenery. 

He likes the fact that we have Crystal Light packets. 

And, most importantly, he LOVES the fact that we have one young pup Boone Kotara living here. He adores Boone, and I think it’s reciprocated. 

I love that knock. 

There will also be a day when he won’t want to throw the football or tell me about his new baseball game-

-when he doesn’t brag about the fact that he can eat three whole tacos 

-fill me in on all the relationship drama of his grade

-or think that riding the bus to my classroom isn’t the coolest thing.

There will come a day when all that stuff is in the past. 

That’s just the way things go, but as a big proponent and advocate for teenagers, I can say that they aren’t the worst thing in the world. 

Zayden is 10 years old. 

The oldest he’s ever been, and the littlest he’ll ever be again. 

I want to make the most of that- enjoy it as much as possible.

For as long as he will let me hug all over him in the mornings and smell his shampoo curls, I want to do that. 

And even when he tries to shake me off? 

I lift weights to make sure I have a fighting chance to get those snuggles.

We praise God for this little boy: 

He is our village’s gift to the world, the conglomeration of everyone else’s best and my worst qualities.  

(Because if there was ever anyone who passed along bad habits to the young man, y’all know who it was.)

At times, he’s been the one that forced us to pull it together and move forward. Loving him is a joy (most of the time). 

Happy 10th birthday to our guy, Zayden!