A heart all aglow...

My Christmas holidays were mostly filled with family, food, and fun--peppered by a few moments of stress and sheer exhaustion. But, there was an interesting finish to the holidays that I wasn't counting on, and a shining moment as a mom as well.

On our way back home from my parents just after Christmas, we decided to stop off in "Texas Aggieland" for some dinner and then drive through this interesting lights show we'd seen from the side of the freeway many years running.

The morning we left, the inevitable stress headache started to build. As we drove home and I listened to my husband's commentary and the sound of my own venting about things that stressed me out, the headache began its ascent giving signs of a migrane in my future. I knew what was coming, and I tried to push it away as best as I could.

My FIRST mistake was letting my son pick the dining establishment for the evening. We ended up at a greasy pizza joint with screaming loud big screens and even louder music over that. For anyone who has had a migrane headache, you know this is your worst fear--being in a noisy and bright place when all you want to do is dig a hole, climb in, and sleep the pain away for a few days.

My SECOND mistake was agreeing to my husband's carnivorous dining selection, the super meat pizza. Most amusingly, he willingly offered to get the whole wheat pizza crust, as if this was going to do us some good after they put FIVE pounds of FIVE different kinds of greasy meat on TOP of the wheat. In truth, all the wheat did was absorb the meat grease like a sponge...a sponge that I then ingested too quickly and in mass quantity.

Feeling nauseous at my ability to eat the crap I'd just eaten, and the amount I'd just eaten (which hearkened back to my college days), I rolled myself out to the car with a few burps and a slight squint, still trying to fight back the headache that was building every minute.

We drove to the lights show and there was mistake number THREE. Driving through a Christmas lights show that is there to engage your senses with its bright lights, loud holiday music, and beautiful colors. All three of these things made me want to take a stick of TNT, forcefully ram it into my ear, and blow my pounding brain to a million little smithereens.

Still, the lights were amazing and I had to share a photo from it. This will become an annual tradition for us. It was breathtaking, even in my headache fog.

The last part of the drive was insanely long. My daughter decided she'd had enough with the carseat and decided to scream with arched back and flailing arms for the last 45 minutes of our trip. Son thought this was some sort of stand-up comedian competition, so he copied her laughing and added to the insanity by tenfold. I again kept pushing back the pain and continued to reach back and entertain her, contorting my body like some sort of circus freak to keep a hand on her at all times. Because, if I dared to let go, she screamed even louder.

By the time we got home, I knew I headed straight for barfy-town. I kicked off my shoes, mumbled some incoherent babble to my husband and tried to lay down in a dark bedroom. During the car ride or at some point soon after, my son must have noticed I felt lousy. I didn't know this, because I was busy unwillingly ridding myself of the "meatsa pizza" in several big hurling incidents in the bathroom. If I was sure I'd never want to eat a greasy pie like that again in my life when I ate it, you can imagine how much I knew this when it came up for a second time.

I stumbled into the kitchen flicking off lights along the way and got a quick glass of water, noticing that my son was hard at work with my daughter at the kitchen table. I reported my barf log to the husband, then crawled back to bed. My head was still pounding even after the upchucking, which usually instantly helps these headaches. A few minutes later, I heard a tapping at my door.

My son tip-toed in and quietly said, Miss Kitty "just made you a picture. It's very good." I mumbled something about taking a look at it in a little while, still holding the pillow tightly on top of my head.

Around 20 minutes later, I heard that same voice again.

"Mom?"
"uh...mmmm...huh? yeah?" [muffled pillow talk for yes, what do you want?]
"I made you something too. It's a card because I hope you feel better. I think it will help."
[lifting pillow off head to recognize my son's kindness]
"Thank you, buddy. I hope I start feeling better soon too."
"I worked hard on it. And here's a special heart sticker for you too, because I love you."
"I love you too, buddy. Thanks."

Hours later I woke up and felt immensely better. I put some dim lights on and looked at the picture. It was magnificently filled with the brightest colors, the loudest sentiment in all caps, "Get Well MOM!" and the beauty that is my son's huge heart all on display like the brightest holiday show.

It is moments like those, when the glow of your heart cannot be overtaken by any headache or distraction. A child's random act of love is like no other.