The ritual rarely changes in our house.
The tree goes up within days after Thanksgiving. The decorations go up within minutes of the tree being declared "stable" and we only use white lights.
I love my tree. Each ornament has some meaning behind it.
36 Christmas's ago my mother started a rather "short" tradition. She would hand paint ceramic ornaments and sign each "Love Mommy" with the year. I have all 6 of the ornaments she made me. Some are starting to show their age but each year they find their branch at the top of the tree (out of reach from little hands).
This is a tradition that I continued. Each year for the past 11 years my kids have all gotten personalized ornaments handmade by me. And each year I carefully unwrap each ornament and separate them into their own piles so they each put up their own ornament. They are extra careful with these and never has one been broken. Sure, ornaments have been broken but never the "special" ones.
This year it was interesting to hear the kids. The boys showed the girls the ornaments they got "before they were alive" (quoted from our 10 year old). The girls asked about my old ornaments and about all the other ornaments that were put at the top of the tree (still considered the "safe" spot even though our oldest is taller than I am). E. even asked if she could have two specific ornaments that were my grandmothers when she grew up and when I told her yes she quickly got a pen and paper and made me sign a "contract".
It was a great way to start the Christmas season.
As for the white lights...well, its all I like and I won't apologize for it! Colored lights and tinsel have no place here. White with plenty of sentimental ornaments are welcome!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Perspective
(my feelings after hearing someone speak of another family that was "worse off" than her family, our family etc.)
There is always going to be someone that is "worse off than you".
I know I've said that before.
But what does it mean exactly?
Does it mean that we aren't supposed to "feel bad" for a situation we might find ourselves in?
Does it give us a different perspective on various things?
In the past 12 1/2 years we have dealt with 3 premature births (all 30 weeks), my mother with breast cancer, my cousin with breast cancer, my grandmother in law with breast cancer, my father with colon cancer and a surgery not what we expected, 5 + years and counting of chronic migraines for a child that just turned 10, surgery for Chris that ended up infected requiring disability leave, cellulitis more times than I care to count, 4 surgeries for me, doing CPR on our bedroom floor on our 10 week old daughter, months in the hospital, a Nana with dementia who no longer knows us and can't care for herself in anyway, the death of my Papa, life threatening allergic reactions, various medical issues for Chris PLUS all the "normal" medical stuff that comes with 4 kids.
I've got the right perspective. I don't need to switch places with someone who is "worse off than me". I know how fragile life is. I know what it is like to have a child in pain. I vividly remember finding my daughter grey and limp in her crib. I remember, like it was yesterday, being told they didnt' think L. would make it through the day. I can remember making the phone calls to family.
I feel for those that are "worse off". I really do.
I am thankful all of my children, under their own power, will get up in the morning. I really am.
And if you find a new perspective by looking at someone who is "worse off than you" I'm happy for you. I really am.
But please understand that our life hasn't been easy. I don't need to walk in someone elses shoes who are "worse off" than us because I get it. All of those emotions of the past 12 1/2 years are still here. Still present and still as raw as they were on those days. Please understand that I am not complaining because I wouldn't trade my kids or my family for the world. Please realize that you don't fully know our "perspective on life" because you weren't here when the bulk of it happened. And by that I mean physically here, in our home, by our sides. You knew of the happenings here with conversations over the phone.
I would change very little in my life. All the things we have gone through have changed us as people. Changed us as husband and wife, as mother and father and as friends. They have made us better and for that I will forever be thankful.
There is always going to be someone that is "worse off than you".
I know I've said that before.
But what does it mean exactly?
Does it mean that we aren't supposed to "feel bad" for a situation we might find ourselves in?
Does it give us a different perspective on various things?
In the past 12 1/2 years we have dealt with 3 premature births (all 30 weeks), my mother with breast cancer, my cousin with breast cancer, my grandmother in law with breast cancer, my father with colon cancer and a surgery not what we expected, 5 + years and counting of chronic migraines for a child that just turned 10, surgery for Chris that ended up infected requiring disability leave, cellulitis more times than I care to count, 4 surgeries for me, doing CPR on our bedroom floor on our 10 week old daughter, months in the hospital, a Nana with dementia who no longer knows us and can't care for herself in anyway, the death of my Papa, life threatening allergic reactions, various medical issues for Chris PLUS all the "normal" medical stuff that comes with 4 kids.
I've got the right perspective. I don't need to switch places with someone who is "worse off than me". I know how fragile life is. I know what it is like to have a child in pain. I vividly remember finding my daughter grey and limp in her crib. I remember, like it was yesterday, being told they didnt' think L. would make it through the day. I can remember making the phone calls to family.
I feel for those that are "worse off". I really do.
I am thankful all of my children, under their own power, will get up in the morning. I really am.
And if you find a new perspective by looking at someone who is "worse off than you" I'm happy for you. I really am.
But please understand that our life hasn't been easy. I don't need to walk in someone elses shoes who are "worse off" than us because I get it. All of those emotions of the past 12 1/2 years are still here. Still present and still as raw as they were on those days. Please understand that I am not complaining because I wouldn't trade my kids or my family for the world. Please realize that you don't fully know our "perspective on life" because you weren't here when the bulk of it happened. And by that I mean physically here, in our home, by our sides. You knew of the happenings here with conversations over the phone.
I would change very little in my life. All the things we have gone through have changed us as people. Changed us as husband and wife, as mother and father and as friends. They have made us better and for that I will forever be thankful.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Where is God?
I was asked what my relationship with God was in a previous post. Its not a question I've been asked before. I'm finally putting my answer into words. To anyone that reads here: this is not a post to be debated. These are my personal beliefs and in no particular order.
I was raised Catholic.
I believe in God.
I am no longer a Catholic. This was an informed choice I made as an adult.
I don't have an opinion that one religion is better than another.
I pray. Every day.
I believe the ultimate destiny of an individual is set before they step foot on this earth regardless of how they believe they got here.
I don't rely on God to direct me every day because I feel his "answers" to my prayers and believe he has forseen my future and has already put me in that right direction.
I believe my god is open minded, accepts people for what and who they are.
I believe my god offers forgivness with no strings attached.
I do not feel the need to gather with a congregation.
I have never, and never will, believe that my beliefs are the "only way". That "my way" is the only way to heaven or that someone elses beliefs are any less than mine.
I was raised Catholic.
I believe in God.
I am no longer a Catholic. This was an informed choice I made as an adult.
I don't have an opinion that one religion is better than another.
I pray. Every day.
I believe the ultimate destiny of an individual is set before they step foot on this earth regardless of how they believe they got here.
I don't rely on God to direct me every day because I feel his "answers" to my prayers and believe he has forseen my future and has already put me in that right direction.
I believe my god is open minded, accepts people for what and who they are.
I believe my god offers forgivness with no strings attached.
I do not feel the need to gather with a congregation.
I have never, and never will, believe that my beliefs are the "only way". That "my way" is the only way to heaven or that someone elses beliefs are any less than mine.
Simple Things
4 sick kids
no overlapping days
over the course of 3 weeks
14 school days in session, total of 12 missed between the 4.
movies, games, chitter chatter, homework, hot cocoa.
Simple things to fill the days.
Simple things that we tend to overlook on busy days.
I hate having my kids sick but I realized how I LOVE the simple things we do together when they are. I am back down to 1 mug in the morning....simple but not as fun as two.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
“Anxiety is the space between the "now" and the "then." (Richard Abell)
I realized when I started this blog that in order to "realize ME" I needed to be honest with myself. To, many times over, scrutinize myself. The good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between.
September 1st started a new chapter. A chapter that didn't have kids underfoot for about 1/2 of their waking day. It was strange to have the house to myself. What do I do? Where do I go? Maybe a 5th? Should I volunteer? Should I get a job? What should I do?
Over and over and over those types of questions went through my head. I couldn't deal with any of it. For 5 weeks I stayed home, sleeping, lying on the couch, watching tv, occasionally cleaning, searching the web, reading, folding laundry, procrastinating, panicking.
Panicking because as those 5 weeks came to an end my anxiety was back full force. With that came depression and with that came a never ending nightmare in my head.
I couldn't do this again. I didn't want to do this again. I knew this routine. I'd done it before and I never ever wanted to do it again. I felt like I again was losing at this game of life.
Five years ago I went through a bout of anxiety and depression that changed me. It got to the point that I couldn't hide it. It came to the point where I couldn't fudge another excuse for why it took me 2 hours to go to a store that should have only taken me 45 at most. The reality was that it would take me 15 minutes to drive to the store (all the while thinking about who I would see, how much I would spend, if they'd have what I needed) then another 30-40 minutes to actually get out of the car followed up by an hour slowly walking through the store, forgetting what I needed and checking out. Going home was the easy part. You can only make up excuses for so long.
Slowly my husband started saying stuff. Slowly he made me aware that he was aware of what was going on and that I needed help.
He called the doctor. He set up the appointment and for once in almost 6 months I was relieved. Relieved that I was going to get help. I spent the next 9 months seeing a therapist once a week to talk about my internal mind jamming nightmares. I medicated daily for almost 2 years. I learned to cope and understood the changes that brought me there. I told almost no one until after those first 2 years.
Fast forward to September 1st. A chapter I wasn't ready for. A chapter I wasn't ready to figure out how to cope with. I spiraled down faster than I had before.
I had anxiety attack after anxiety attack every day. It didn't matter what I was doing. I stayed home A LOT. I was short tempered. I had no energy. I'd freak out at the simplest things.
Then we went on vacation. We stayed in two rooms (not by choice but due to a cancellation of the adults staying in the 2nd room that wasn't adjoining to the first). I spent many nights thinking. Many early mornings staring at the ocean acknowledging to myself the demons lurking in my head. I finally "got it". For 12 years there has been no "I". Even when I got sick and had to be hospitalized or put on bed rest etc., there was always the worry about them. Now they were older. They went off to school and they didn't need me like they used to. Even our oldest was having a great year and didn't need me to keep on him about homework and tasks around the house. R. had learned how to deal with his Migraines more by himself. He could find his medication, get in the shower, cover the window, wrap the toilet in a towel and wasn't asking me to lay with him as often. Our mornings were no longer chaotic rushes. I had spent the first 2 weeks of school working on the "little details" and also paying better attention to the clock to avoid the chaos but that also meant that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing all along instead of me scrambling to do it for them. It left me feeling like *I* wasn't doing enough. It made me feel like I wasn't needed.
When we got home it was a rough week. Lots of tears when everyone was gone. I started telling Chris that I needed to take time right now to make things about ME. I needed to do a lot of sole searching. I needed to go to bed at a decent hour. I needed help during the times that were going to be chaos despite trying to get them to be the opposite. I needed to learn to say no and stick to my guns. I needed to cherish the times the kids did need me and learn to enjoy the late afternoon (my least favorite time of the day).
So I made changes. Some so small that only I could see, some so large that they surprised people (what do you mean R. isn't playing travel basketball? and the simple reply: I'm not superwoman. I can't do 4 practices and 3 games a week plus 2 days of dance. I can't and I won't and don't ask me again). I'm taking the time in the morning to face my demons. To realize that I don't always have to be on the go. To find people that I enjoy being with that don't run in the same scenes that I do. To accept the fact that my kids are growing up to be wonderful caring responsible human beings that I had a hand in molding and I will continue to help mold. To be ok with the "now" and the "then".
Things aren't perfect. I have continued to have the occasional anxiety attack. I have however made a promise to myself. If it continues, if it gets worse, if the floor starts to drop that I won't be to proud to ask for help but instead be proud that I have come so far that I can ask for help.
September 1st started a new chapter. A chapter that didn't have kids underfoot for about 1/2 of their waking day. It was strange to have the house to myself. What do I do? Where do I go? Maybe a 5th? Should I volunteer? Should I get a job? What should I do?
Over and over and over those types of questions went through my head. I couldn't deal with any of it. For 5 weeks I stayed home, sleeping, lying on the couch, watching tv, occasionally cleaning, searching the web, reading, folding laundry, procrastinating, panicking.
Panicking because as those 5 weeks came to an end my anxiety was back full force. With that came depression and with that came a never ending nightmare in my head.
I couldn't do this again. I didn't want to do this again. I knew this routine. I'd done it before and I never ever wanted to do it again. I felt like I again was losing at this game of life.
Five years ago I went through a bout of anxiety and depression that changed me. It got to the point that I couldn't hide it. It came to the point where I couldn't fudge another excuse for why it took me 2 hours to go to a store that should have only taken me 45 at most. The reality was that it would take me 15 minutes to drive to the store (all the while thinking about who I would see, how much I would spend, if they'd have what I needed) then another 30-40 minutes to actually get out of the car followed up by an hour slowly walking through the store, forgetting what I needed and checking out. Going home was the easy part. You can only make up excuses for so long.
Slowly my husband started saying stuff. Slowly he made me aware that he was aware of what was going on and that I needed help.
He called the doctor. He set up the appointment and for once in almost 6 months I was relieved. Relieved that I was going to get help. I spent the next 9 months seeing a therapist once a week to talk about my internal mind jamming nightmares. I medicated daily for almost 2 years. I learned to cope and understood the changes that brought me there. I told almost no one until after those first 2 years.
Fast forward to September 1st. A chapter I wasn't ready for. A chapter I wasn't ready to figure out how to cope with. I spiraled down faster than I had before.
I had anxiety attack after anxiety attack every day. It didn't matter what I was doing. I stayed home A LOT. I was short tempered. I had no energy. I'd freak out at the simplest things.
Then we went on vacation. We stayed in two rooms (not by choice but due to a cancellation of the adults staying in the 2nd room that wasn't adjoining to the first). I spent many nights thinking. Many early mornings staring at the ocean acknowledging to myself the demons lurking in my head. I finally "got it". For 12 years there has been no "I". Even when I got sick and had to be hospitalized or put on bed rest etc., there was always the worry about them. Now they were older. They went off to school and they didn't need me like they used to. Even our oldest was having a great year and didn't need me to keep on him about homework and tasks around the house. R. had learned how to deal with his Migraines more by himself. He could find his medication, get in the shower, cover the window, wrap the toilet in a towel and wasn't asking me to lay with him as often. Our mornings were no longer chaotic rushes. I had spent the first 2 weeks of school working on the "little details" and also paying better attention to the clock to avoid the chaos but that also meant that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing all along instead of me scrambling to do it for them. It left me feeling like *I* wasn't doing enough. It made me feel like I wasn't needed.
When we got home it was a rough week. Lots of tears when everyone was gone. I started telling Chris that I needed to take time right now to make things about ME. I needed to do a lot of sole searching. I needed to go to bed at a decent hour. I needed help during the times that were going to be chaos despite trying to get them to be the opposite. I needed to learn to say no and stick to my guns. I needed to cherish the times the kids did need me and learn to enjoy the late afternoon (my least favorite time of the day).
So I made changes. Some so small that only I could see, some so large that they surprised people (what do you mean R. isn't playing travel basketball? and the simple reply: I'm not superwoman. I can't do 4 practices and 3 games a week plus 2 days of dance. I can't and I won't and don't ask me again). I'm taking the time in the morning to face my demons. To realize that I don't always have to be on the go. To find people that I enjoy being with that don't run in the same scenes that I do. To accept the fact that my kids are growing up to be wonderful caring responsible human beings that I had a hand in molding and I will continue to help mold. To be ok with the "now" and the "then".
Things aren't perfect. I have continued to have the occasional anxiety attack. I have however made a promise to myself. If it continues, if it gets worse, if the floor starts to drop that I won't be to proud to ask for help but instead be proud that I have come so far that I can ask for help.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
7 days, 4 countries, 4 flights, 4 kids, an ocean full of fun
Months ago we started talking about taking the kids on a cruise. We asked my in laws to join us and we booked ourselves on the Carnival Legend.
After months of anticipation by the kids the day finally came. There was a bit of sadness because our in laws had to back out but overall they were psyched.
We flew first to Tampa and spent the night before boarding the Carnival Legend. We had a fantastic time and toured parts of Grand Cayman, Cozumel, Belize and Isle of Roatan Honduras. Cruises are one vacation that truly pulls us together as a family. Excursions are usually booked before we get on the ship so we already know what we are doing each port day (but are also easily changed if we change our minds). No thinking about meals, cleaning your room, finding something to do or wondering if everyone is enjoying themselves. There is always things for the kids to do if you want some time alone and you don't have to worry about being home in time for the babysitter. For us it is a perfect way to vacation.
Now, I must say, I didn't always feel this way about cruising. Years ago on our first cruise I didn't "get it". Didn't get what was so great about being "stuck" on a ship. I didn't get the whole relaxing thing. Our favorite vacation up to that point was Disney World. Definitely not a vacation that I would call overly relaxing.
The weather was fantastic, the seas smooth, the ship gorgeous and the itinerary amazing. Would do it again in a heart beat. Even though Chris and I split up at night between the two rooms it was fantastic. To see the boys independence was awesome. A. came and went all day. He loved ordering his Soda from the bar or running up to the buffet. He seemed so grown up. There is no question he is almost a teenager! R. showed us a side we rarely get to see. He didn't need us, or want us, as much as he usually does. He liked going off with Andrew and thought it was "way cool" when we gave him permission to check himself in and out of the kids club. When he was with us he liked talking and was relaxed in doing so. The girls were their typical running, playing, being cute, having fun, trying new things selves but surprisingly they almost always got along. Definitely fun to see that!
I'll add pictures when I can...right now blogger doesn't want to cooperate at all!
After months of anticipation by the kids the day finally came. There was a bit of sadness because our in laws had to back out but overall they were psyched.
We flew first to Tampa and spent the night before boarding the Carnival Legend. We had a fantastic time and toured parts of Grand Cayman, Cozumel, Belize and Isle of Roatan Honduras. Cruises are one vacation that truly pulls us together as a family. Excursions are usually booked before we get on the ship so we already know what we are doing each port day (but are also easily changed if we change our minds). No thinking about meals, cleaning your room, finding something to do or wondering if everyone is enjoying themselves. There is always things for the kids to do if you want some time alone and you don't have to worry about being home in time for the babysitter. For us it is a perfect way to vacation.
Now, I must say, I didn't always feel this way about cruising. Years ago on our first cruise I didn't "get it". Didn't get what was so great about being "stuck" on a ship. I didn't get the whole relaxing thing. Our favorite vacation up to that point was Disney World. Definitely not a vacation that I would call overly relaxing.
The weather was fantastic, the seas smooth, the ship gorgeous and the itinerary amazing. Would do it again in a heart beat. Even though Chris and I split up at night between the two rooms it was fantastic. To see the boys independence was awesome. A. came and went all day. He loved ordering his Soda from the bar or running up to the buffet. He seemed so grown up. There is no question he is almost a teenager! R. showed us a side we rarely get to see. He didn't need us, or want us, as much as he usually does. He liked going off with Andrew and thought it was "way cool" when we gave him permission to check himself in and out of the kids club. When he was with us he liked talking and was relaxed in doing so. The girls were their typical running, playing, being cute, having fun, trying new things selves but surprisingly they almost always got along. Definitely fun to see that!
I'll add pictures when I can...right now blogger doesn't want to cooperate at all!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Kitchen Cabinets
Kitchen cabinets can be the bane of my existence many days of the week. I try, I honestly do, to keep them organized. I am not intentionally trying to amputate my husbands finger when he reaches into the "drawer next to the dishwasher" or trying to ruin my 12 year olds life because the field trip paper he needed entered the never never land of the "big" junk drawer.
They tend to get messy when the kids put things away because its usually done in a rush. Now that I find that I am emptying the dishwasher more often than they are I thought I start tackling them. Although I didn't do ALL of the cabinets and drawers, I did organize 2 drawers and 6 cabinets. Here are a couple of before (top) and after (bottom) shots.
"Don't amputate a finger" Drawer
They tend to get messy when the kids put things away because its usually done in a rush. Now that I find that I am emptying the dishwasher more often than they are I thought I start tackling them. Although I didn't do ALL of the cabinets and drawers, I did organize 2 drawers and 6 cabinets. Here are a couple of before (top) and after (bottom) shots.
"Rubbermaid" cabinet
Small Appliance Cabinets
"Don't amputate a finger" Drawer
That only leaves 13 more cabinets and 8 more drawers to be done. I just hope that by the time I get to them these still look good or at least before the 12 year old brings home the next field trip paper!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Friends with bumps
I have friends. Plenty of them.
Some I see every day. Some I talk to every day. Some I talk to only a few times a year. Some I've had for 25 years.
Today I was with my friend. A "new" friend. By "new" I mean I've known her about 3 years.
She had a bump. 2 of them actually. Growing on one of those parts that only us women have. One is nothing and will go away on its own. The other needed further evaluation. Follow up appointments were scheduled and I volunteered to go with her. I have learned over the years that these appointments are not ones you go to alone.
Back to the bumps. The big one specifically. Big enough that the U/S tech couldn't contain his concern which of course freaked out my friend. She returned to the waiting room visibly upset. I start going through the next few hours in my head. I'll call her husband. I'll call her friends. I'll console and give pep talks. I'll show her the video of R. breaking pretzels that were stuck up his nose with his tongue because its all I had. Yep, I'll do what I have to do to make things "better".
We head to meet with the doctor where I sit behind a curtain jotting down notes while the doctor pokes at the big bump.
She doesn't think its cancer.
Tears gradually go away. Composure is found and a huge weight is lifted.
She gets all the info she can and heads home to wait for the next step.
Friends helped with both of our kids. Friends called as soon as they found out we were back. Friends, not only concerned about our friend, but concerned about me. Totally unselfish. Totally standing at the ready should it have been the dreaded C word.
I never want another friend to go through what my friend did yesterday. The emotions, the fear, the flashing of the future before her eyes. But if they do, I hope they can go through it with friends like mine.
Have I said that I love my friends? Every single one of them even with bumps?
Some I see every day. Some I talk to every day. Some I talk to only a few times a year. Some I've had for 25 years.
Today I was with my friend. A "new" friend. By "new" I mean I've known her about 3 years.
She had a bump. 2 of them actually. Growing on one of those parts that only us women have. One is nothing and will go away on its own. The other needed further evaluation. Follow up appointments were scheduled and I volunteered to go with her. I have learned over the years that these appointments are not ones you go to alone.
Back to the bumps. The big one specifically. Big enough that the U/S tech couldn't contain his concern which of course freaked out my friend. She returned to the waiting room visibly upset. I start going through the next few hours in my head. I'll call her husband. I'll call her friends. I'll console and give pep talks. I'll show her the video of R. breaking pretzels that were stuck up his nose with his tongue because its all I had. Yep, I'll do what I have to do to make things "better".
We head to meet with the doctor where I sit behind a curtain jotting down notes while the doctor pokes at the big bump.
She doesn't think its cancer.
Tears gradually go away. Composure is found and a huge weight is lifted.
She gets all the info she can and heads home to wait for the next step.
Friends helped with both of our kids. Friends called as soon as they found out we were back. Friends, not only concerned about our friend, but concerned about me. Totally unselfish. Totally standing at the ready should it have been the dreaded C word.
I never want another friend to go through what my friend did yesterday. The emotions, the fear, the flashing of the future before her eyes. But if they do, I hope they can go through it with friends like mine.
Have I said that I love my friends? Every single one of them even with bumps?
Monday, September 14, 2009
September 11, 2001
There are certain events in everyones lives that you not only remember but remember like they were yesterday. 9/11 was certainly one of them.
Driving down Route 13 after dropping my oldest off at PK. The radio comes on (107.9fm) with breaking news. I call my dad shortly after. He is on his way to a meeting and hadn't heard the news yet.
Drove home and flipped on the news. Sat on the couch in our living room, R. cuddled up in my lap in his teddy bear overalls and we sat for hours. R. never moved. Bethy, my dad, Auntie, Pat & Amy all call over the course of the next two hours.
I run out at noon to pick up A. There is talk between parents but I don't talk to anyone. I just load the boys back into the car and drive home. Want to watch more but how? A. is 4 1/2 and easily scared. What do I say to him to explain the horror unfolding on the screen?
We eat lunch. Left over pasta for the two of us. Oatmeal and papaya for R.
R. goes down for a nap and A. and I start to play with blocks. I had turned the TV on, volume down low, and sat him with his back to it as we built towers. Up he'd build and down they'd tumble. Over and over and over.
The phone rang. It was Uncle S. to tell us he was being deployed due to the happenings of the morning and would I get ahold of his father. I track down his dad, pass along the message and turn back to A.
He is watching the TV. Silent. Still. Staring at the screen. At the recap of the first tower collapsing and of the people running down the street.
I start to cry. My innocent little boy now saw the horror I didn't want him to see but couldn't tear myself away from.
"Have we been there?"
"Yes buddy, a few years ago".
"Why did that building fall down? Can our house fall down?"
He looks up. I should have shut the TV off. He watches as they recap the plane hitting. Oh my god. How do I deal with this. This is not a discussion I want to have with my 4 year old.
I call Chris. We talk for a bit and decide to tell A. bits and pieces in age appropriate ways.
I go back to building blocks. I explain that there were bad men that wanted to hurt other people and took the airplanes to do that. I tell him that it is OK to fly and that I don't think it will happen to any more planes. He is OK with it all. He asks about Uncle S. and I tell him that it is his job to keep us safe. A's mouth is smeared with red pasta sauce. He smiles and says he is glad Uncle S. is strong. His last question was if we knew anyone on the plane or in the building. I told him I didn't think so but I would keep calling Beth to make sure Katie was safe.
R. woke up covered in throw up. I cleaned up but realized when I brought the sheets downstairs that we were out of detergent.
Dinner that night was breakfast. Couldn't pull myself together enough to plan dinner. As I was about to tuck the boys into bed the phone rang in the kitchen, with the long tangled cord, rang. It was my mom, calling to tell me Linda, a friend and team mate growing up, was on flight 11. I traced the pattern on the wallpaper as she told me that her bridal shower had been the Sunday before and that her wedding was next month. I undid the white and blue stripped scrunchy in my hair and put it on my wrist. I fiddled with the invitation to a birthday party that was above the phone. I cried. I was thankful that A. asked me before I knew this if we knew anyone on the plane. Didn't seem as bad telling him I didn't think I did. Now it had hit close to home.
Tucked the boys in that night knowing that this was a day that would change the way in which we lived. The way everyone lived. It was one of the first time I really took the time to think about being "American". To think about what it meant.
Eight years later A. is 12 and has some memory of what has happened. I don't think he remembers that day but I think he has picked up bits and pieces of that day and realizes he was alive when it happened. R. has no memory of it and E. and L. weren't even on our radar yet. A. and I talked about it this morning. What happened, why it happened, who did it, who was on the plane, how I felt and how the country responded. R. listened and asked a few questions. Idiots and stupid heads was his choice of labels for the hijackers. I couldn't reprimand him for using the names that drive me crazy. How could I? He wasn't far from the truth.
9/11/09 was 3 days ago. I don't remember what we had for breakfast. I don't know what R. was wearing (although I could probably guess based upon his "usual" attire lately). I don't remember what we had for lunch, who called or if it was me or Chris that tucked the kids in that night.
It is amazing the details we remember during events that we will never forget. Simply amazing.
Driving down Route 13 after dropping my oldest off at PK. The radio comes on (107.9fm) with breaking news. I call my dad shortly after. He is on his way to a meeting and hadn't heard the news yet.
Drove home and flipped on the news. Sat on the couch in our living room, R. cuddled up in my lap in his teddy bear overalls and we sat for hours. R. never moved. Bethy, my dad, Auntie, Pat & Amy all call over the course of the next two hours.
I run out at noon to pick up A. There is talk between parents but I don't talk to anyone. I just load the boys back into the car and drive home. Want to watch more but how? A. is 4 1/2 and easily scared. What do I say to him to explain the horror unfolding on the screen?
We eat lunch. Left over pasta for the two of us. Oatmeal and papaya for R.
R. goes down for a nap and A. and I start to play with blocks. I had turned the TV on, volume down low, and sat him with his back to it as we built towers. Up he'd build and down they'd tumble. Over and over and over.
The phone rang. It was Uncle S. to tell us he was being deployed due to the happenings of the morning and would I get ahold of his father. I track down his dad, pass along the message and turn back to A.
He is watching the TV. Silent. Still. Staring at the screen. At the recap of the first tower collapsing and of the people running down the street.
I start to cry. My innocent little boy now saw the horror I didn't want him to see but couldn't tear myself away from.
"Have we been there?"
"Yes buddy, a few years ago".
"Why did that building fall down? Can our house fall down?"
He looks up. I should have shut the TV off. He watches as they recap the plane hitting. Oh my god. How do I deal with this. This is not a discussion I want to have with my 4 year old.
I call Chris. We talk for a bit and decide to tell A. bits and pieces in age appropriate ways.
I go back to building blocks. I explain that there were bad men that wanted to hurt other people and took the airplanes to do that. I tell him that it is OK to fly and that I don't think it will happen to any more planes. He is OK with it all. He asks about Uncle S. and I tell him that it is his job to keep us safe. A's mouth is smeared with red pasta sauce. He smiles and says he is glad Uncle S. is strong. His last question was if we knew anyone on the plane or in the building. I told him I didn't think so but I would keep calling Beth to make sure Katie was safe.
R. woke up covered in throw up. I cleaned up but realized when I brought the sheets downstairs that we were out of detergent.
Dinner that night was breakfast. Couldn't pull myself together enough to plan dinner. As I was about to tuck the boys into bed the phone rang in the kitchen, with the long tangled cord, rang. It was my mom, calling to tell me Linda, a friend and team mate growing up, was on flight 11. I traced the pattern on the wallpaper as she told me that her bridal shower had been the Sunday before and that her wedding was next month. I undid the white and blue stripped scrunchy in my hair and put it on my wrist. I fiddled with the invitation to a birthday party that was above the phone. I cried. I was thankful that A. asked me before I knew this if we knew anyone on the plane. Didn't seem as bad telling him I didn't think I did. Now it had hit close to home.
Tucked the boys in that night knowing that this was a day that would change the way in which we lived. The way everyone lived. It was one of the first time I really took the time to think about being "American". To think about what it meant.
Eight years later A. is 12 and has some memory of what has happened. I don't think he remembers that day but I think he has picked up bits and pieces of that day and realizes he was alive when it happened. R. has no memory of it and E. and L. weren't even on our radar yet. A. and I talked about it this morning. What happened, why it happened, who did it, who was on the plane, how I felt and how the country responded. R. listened and asked a few questions. Idiots and stupid heads was his choice of labels for the hijackers. I couldn't reprimand him for using the names that drive me crazy. How could I? He wasn't far from the truth.
9/11/09 was 3 days ago. I don't remember what we had for breakfast. I don't know what R. was wearing (although I could probably guess based upon his "usual" attire lately). I don't remember what we had for lunch, who called or if it was me or Chris that tucked the kids in that night.
It is amazing the details we remember during events that we will never forget. Simply amazing.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Wasted Time
Having something to do helps to pass the time but wasting time, even if it is doing something, annoys me.
Chris' birthday is on Thursday. He'll be the big 37. He wants a panini maker. Its the first idea he has given me in a long time for any holiday/birthday so I happily oblige.
I do my research online. I find out the local stores that carry the brand I want. Their websites list the brand and model. I head out on my mission because after all, I wait until 2 days before his birthday to start shopping.
Store 1....Right brand but only the "higher" model which is double the price and not as great reviews.
Store 2....Wrong brand but a few in the price range of the one I was looking for. Decide to keep looking as I want a good one....not one that works until just out of warranty.
Store 3....Nada.
I'm out of luck and out of time for the day. I decide that it would be worth it to spend a few extra bucks on shipping and just order it from Amazon.com. Placed the order at 3:30pm with overnight delivery (and a free trial of Amazon Prime).
7am the next day I get 2 shipping notices.
Yes, that is right. 2 notices.
I need one machine.
I only have one husband.
Call Amazon.com. They happily help. I decide I am not wasting my time waiting for FedEx to arrive so I post a note on the door and go on my day. They don't come while I'm gone. I'm about to step into the shower when I can hear the truck. Throw my clothes back on, run down, refuse 1 package, tell him to turn around on the lawn and go back to my shower.
Now, if I had ordered online in the first place I would have saved about 3 hours of shopping. If I had paid attention and checked the original receipt that was emailed I would have saved time calling and waiting for Fedex. Why can't I figure out a way to make better use out of my 6 hours of "free" time? That just annoys me.
Chris' birthday is on Thursday. He'll be the big 37. He wants a panini maker. Its the first idea he has given me in a long time for any holiday/birthday so I happily oblige.
I do my research online. I find out the local stores that carry the brand I want. Their websites list the brand and model. I head out on my mission because after all, I wait until 2 days before his birthday to start shopping.
Store 1....Right brand but only the "higher" model which is double the price and not as great reviews.
Store 2....Wrong brand but a few in the price range of the one I was looking for. Decide to keep looking as I want a good one....not one that works until just out of warranty.
Store 3....Nada.
I'm out of luck and out of time for the day. I decide that it would be worth it to spend a few extra bucks on shipping and just order it from Amazon.com. Placed the order at 3:30pm with overnight delivery (and a free trial of Amazon Prime).
7am the next day I get 2 shipping notices.
Yes, that is right. 2 notices.
I need one machine.
I only have one husband.
Call Amazon.com. They happily help. I decide I am not wasting my time waiting for FedEx to arrive so I post a note on the door and go on my day. They don't come while I'm gone. I'm about to step into the shower when I can hear the truck. Throw my clothes back on, run down, refuse 1 package, tell him to turn around on the lawn and go back to my shower.
Now, if I had ordered online in the first place I would have saved about 3 hours of shopping. If I had paid attention and checked the original receipt that was emailed I would have saved time calling and waiting for Fedex. Why can't I figure out a way to make better use out of my 6 hours of "free" time? That just annoys me.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
End of "week" 1
Week 1 was 3 days long. Today they climb off the bus to a 4 day weekend.
I survived.
They survived.
I like having some of the time to myself but not 6 hours.
We'll see what week 2 brings........
I survived.
They survived.
I like having some of the time to myself but not 6 hours.
We'll see what week 2 brings........
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
reality
Reality has hit and it has hit hard. Yesterday was not the typical first day of school. Shortly after the kids left I had to delivery birthday snack, run an errand for a few more gifts, cover lunch/recess duty and not even 30 minutes after getting home from that A. was off the bus and walking down the driveway.
Today is reality. Today I get my haircut with no worries. No dragging kids along to sit and complain while my tresses fall to the ground. No worrying whether or not I'll be back in time for the bus. Today, for the next 6 hours it is me and me alone.
A. got on the bus for the first time back in 2002. I was pregnant and huge with E. and L.. R. was only 2. It was a big day. My husband stayed home to make sure A. actually got on the bus. I had fears that he wouldn't get on alone. After all, my mom rode the bus with me on my first day of K. I'm sure my oldest would need me just as much.
He didn't. The bus pulled up and off he went. I cried. He waved and laughed.
Every year since then would turn out to be the same. Me in tears, them waving and laughing.
I look forward to the bus pulling up to the driveway every afternoon. I love hearing their stories about their new friends, their teachers, how lunch was, how they missed me. I look forward to that today. But in the meantime I will take my new reality and go eat breakfast. By myself. No sharing. No interuptions. Just me and my bowl of Lucky Charms. Maybe after that I'll take a shower. No little girl sitting on the edge of the tub trying to have a conversation with me about how your hair grows, how people get fat, and if she'll ever have "buubs". Just me. ALONE.
Today is reality. Today I get my haircut with no worries. No dragging kids along to sit and complain while my tresses fall to the ground. No worrying whether or not I'll be back in time for the bus. Today, for the next 6 hours it is me and me alone.
A. got on the bus for the first time back in 2002. I was pregnant and huge with E. and L.. R. was only 2. It was a big day. My husband stayed home to make sure A. actually got on the bus. I had fears that he wouldn't get on alone. After all, my mom rode the bus with me on my first day of K. I'm sure my oldest would need me just as much.
He didn't. The bus pulled up and off he went. I cried. He waved and laughed.
Every year since then would turn out to be the same. Me in tears, them waving and laughing.
I look forward to the bus pulling up to the driveway every afternoon. I love hearing their stories about their new friends, their teachers, how lunch was, how they missed me. I look forward to that today. But in the meantime I will take my new reality and go eat breakfast. By myself. No sharing. No interuptions. Just me and my bowl of Lucky Charms. Maybe after that I'll take a shower. No little girl sitting on the edge of the tub trying to have a conversation with me about how your hair grows, how people get fat, and if she'll ever have "buubs". Just me. ALONE.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
me REALized
Today is a new day. A different day.
I lay in bed this morning, counting down the minutes until the alarm screeches me out of bed, and reality hit.
September 1st, 2009
The first day of school.
Our 13th Wedding Anniversary
A 10th Birthday
The first day of school. For all of them. ALL day for ALL of them.
I've been a mom for 4,537 days. A stay at home mom for four thousand, five hundred and thirty seven days. That is 108,888 hours. I can probably count on both hands the number of days in the last 12 1/2 years that I have been without my kids. What will I do for close to 35 hours a week without them?
I will REALize me.
I need an outlet, a place to look back, to put things into perspective, to rant, to rave, to cry, and to remember, to look to the future and to enjoy.
I lay in bed this morning, counting down the minutes until the alarm screeches me out of bed, and reality hit.
September 1st, 2009
The first day of school.
Our 13th Wedding Anniversary
A 10th Birthday
The first day of school. For all of them. ALL day for ALL of them.
I've been a mom for 4,537 days. A stay at home mom for four thousand, five hundred and thirty seven days. That is 108,888 hours. I can probably count on both hands the number of days in the last 12 1/2 years that I have been without my kids. What will I do for close to 35 hours a week without them?
I will REALize me.
I need an outlet, a place to look back, to put things into perspective, to rant, to rave, to cry, and to remember, to look to the future and to enjoy.
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