Showing posts with label Quinton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quinton. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

And so we say good-bye to Q

Well, it's certainly been a time of transition at la Casa de Cannon. Everyone is moving on. Today I followed Quinton up to Logan to help him move in, which is where our story begins.

When we arrived, I realized Q had basically tossed stuff into his car rather than into boxes or suitcases. He just had a car full of posters and clothes and incense and bike crap all jumbled up like a big old freshman boy tossed salad. And so I went, "Q! WHAT? Didn't you know this is why boxes were invented? So tired moms with no stomach muscles due to giving birth repeatedly don't have to walk up four flights of boy dorm stairs 1,000 times instead of just 5 or 6 times?"

But also I was having this thought: where THE HELL was that boy's mother when he needed her? For sure she wasn't overseeing the packing part. And why was that? Because in many ways Q. has been an adult from Day One. Like, I'm pretty sure he had facial hair when he was born. As a result, sometimes I've just forgotten that he's only 18. Eighteen and fabulous. Even if he doesn't know about boxes.

Man, I am gonna miss him.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Love poetry by young guys

Quinton has been going through old school papers. He just shared this poem he had to write when he was a freshman. CLEARLY someone wasn't very happy with the assignment . . .

This is about how I hate love sonnets,
They use stupid language and metaphors:
They have stupid girls in stupid bonnets,
Goodness, just thinking of them makes me snore.
I cannot figure out why people love them,
I can’t describe why they suck, they just do:
These moronic poems are condemned,
And are simply quite splendidly untrue.
Anybody can write these stupid things,
Though, some are better at it than others:
But Shakespeare’s got nothing on my writings,
Though, he’s slightly better than my brothers.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
These poems will bring displeasure to me.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

And yes a pogo stick was involved

Last night on my way home from MacCool's (where a lamb rib appetizer stole the show!) I got a call from Ken, informing me that Q had broken his arm and that they were both at the ER. Of course my mind immediately went to that time when Ken took Dylan (who was an emerging toddler) to the ER because Dylan had swallowed some "virgin staples" (yes, you just read that correctly), and the first thing I noticed when I joined them was that none of Dylan's clothes matched and also he wasn't wearing shoes even though it was, like, February. So as I drove to the ER last night I prayed that Quinton was at least wearing shoes.

Anyway. I found Q (with shoes), laid up on an ER bed with Ken at his side.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I was bouncing on a pogo stick in the church parking lot and fell backwards," my seventeen year-old son replied.

"Why were you bouncing on a pogo stick? Is that a vegetarian thing or what?"

I know. I have now reduced everything I don't understand about my son to the fact that he is a vegetarian, which I also don't understand, because hello. Why would you be a vegetarian in a world where lamb ribs drizzled with blue cheese exist?

Meanwhile, the good news is that his arm isn't broken after all! Yay! The bad news is that he'll be back on the pogo stick as soon as he gets the chance. Because that's how my family is. Dude. You fall off a pogo stick, you get back on. We're gymnasts that way.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

May 11, 1993

So I've been thinking about this day seventeen years ago because it's my youngest boy's b-day. Happy birthday, Quinton Cannon! The whole world got sunnier the day you arrived!

Still. We had a rough go of it. Not to be melodramatic, but mother and son almost cashed in their chips. Seriously. As I lay there on the delivery bed, I had the very clear thought that yes, this is how it feels to die. How can I describe the sensation of it all? I could feel my life seep away through my fingertips. (For the record, I felt oddly calm--warm and not afraid.)

Well! Thankfully, we all rallied and here we are--to which I can only say that life tastes good today. I'm happy to be here.

And I think Quinton is too.