MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Just taking a minute in my lovely chaos to wish all I love a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. You are all the true blessings of my life.

*Miss you, Dad*

On being thankful

There are Christmas decorations that have been up for more than a week now. There are Christmas movies on tv, and Christmas carols on the radio. I know why, I understand the desperation of this economy. But in innundating us so early with all of these things that I actually love about Christmas, Thanksgiving is getting overshadowed. And Thanksgiving deserves its own limelight. A day of the year to focus on all that we have that causes gratitude in life...what a glorious thing.

It's a small world...and we are all in this together.

I am generally a thankful person. When I hear of the difficulties of others my mantra remains, "There but for the grace of God go I.". I have had my share of tough times but have always had someone standing by me thru them. And I've always been lucky enough to come thru these times stronger, better even, than before. I know that it could just as easily be me with the lost job, the foreclosed home, the sick child. And that I am enjoying a life barren of these things makes me humbly grateful.

I am thankful to have these glorious, crazy kids. The lot of them define the very essence of who I am and dictate many of the choices I make in life. They are such a huge part of who I am that my self melds with their existence. And that's okay with me. A life with five blessings is something that brings me naked joy.

I am thankful that Joe makes me laugh, that he gets me like no one else ever could. I always think -" when I grow up I want to be just like him". And I know if I ever needed anything, he would be there, no questions asked, as he has before. I hope and pray he knows the same stands for him...he is my champion and always has been.

I am thankful that Mark has come to a clearer path in life. He has worked so hard to pull free and find who he is and that makes him a hero in my eyes. I hope he realizes that he is never alone and that all he needs to do is call and I will listen -that how he feels is important to me and that the girls adore him.

I am thankful for mom in more ways than I could ever express in the written word. She is the epitome of gentle strength and I often wish I was more like her. There has never been a time in my life that I have doubted her love and support and I think that is such a huge thing- to be confident in a parent's love. My kids revere her...they couldn't ask for a more wonderful Gram, and they too have been blessed knowing that she is always on their side. That her love for them is uncompromisable. Thank you, Mom. We love you so.

My best friend Kerri has seen me thru the major ups and downs of life. She and I don't ever see enough of each other, are guilty of letting life get in the way, but when we come together it is such a comfort that we simply pick up where we left off, no awkwardness or doubt. Our friendship is a bright, simple thing and it brings me happiness. It is so good, having someone that doesn't mind the silences, that in fact sees them as a strength. And her family is my family. Period.

I have these girls at work that have taken me under their wings and made me laugh and seen me cry and shore me up. I know how rare that is, co-workers you can honestly call friends. And I am thankful for them.

I have a job that is both heartbreaking and fulfilling, if that's possible. I am honored to care for families that are going thru the toughest of times and if my presence brings even a moments peace to a heavy heart, then I am doing my job well and the hard stuff is worth it.

Every now and then Patrik looks across the room at me with eyes that seem to be seeing me for the first time. I don't know how he does that after nearly 10 years of marriage and bunches of kids and chores and LIFE, but it reminds me that every now and then fate works just the right way and you actually do end up with the prince you were searching for all your life.

I am thankful to have had dad for 31 years. It was not long enough by far and I still miss him, will always miss him. It still catches me at odd moments the FIERCENESS of his loss in my heart. But my memories are strong and bright, a light so startling I nearly have to avert my eyes from it. And I carry him with me, still.

It is fitting that in this difficult world I take the time to count my blessings. Remembering those things that bring you joy is life affirming and a reminder of what is truly important: family, friends, work that inspires you, comfort, memories.

And if you are reading this, I am thankful for you. I hope you carry that with you like a tiny glowing star, and when times are tough, pull it out and hold it to your heart.

You are loved.

Remembering September 11, 2001

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was at work at Palm Beach Gardens Medical center. I was a nurse on the open-heart step-down unit and it started like any other Tuesday. I happened to walk into a patient's room just after they started broadcasting the strike of the first plane into the Twin Towers. I stood there and watched with my patient, both of us shocked that a plane could make such a mistake, could hit a building like that. Then the other plane hit and we both were stunned into silence. I remember saying, "That was deliberate." And I remeber a dread filling my very core.

As the events of that day transpired, my first thought was I had to get to my kids. Had to get Laura, who was only 1, from the sitter, and get Chris out of elementary school. I wanted to get them and lock myself in my house and never leave. Incidentally, I felt the same way after the Oklahoma City bombing. It is just such a primal thing, to keep our children safe from harm, protect them from the evils of the world.

There was such quiet on the unit at the hospital that day. We were terribly distracted, anxious, disbelieving. Of course, September 11th changed every American. We were suddenly united in a way I had not seen in my lifetime to that point. American flags soared everywhere. In the days that followed, we each of us sat in front of our televisions, unable to look away. I remember sitting on the floor of my home as the rescue attempt went on and on, and as the realization dawned that there would be very few survivors in the rubble, I wept. Like everyone else. As the television cameras panned across the great expanse of flyers and photos pinned up in New York City ("have you seen our loved one?"...), I wept some more. Like everyone else. And we we declared war, I was glad...like everyone else.

Somewhere along the way we have lost touch with the reasons of the war. I admit that I hold our presence in Iraq disdainfully. I would like us to get back to the job of finding those responsible for 9/11. But right now we are so caught up with other reasons for war, I fear that we may never return to the real reason for the war. Those evil men are still out there...and I want them caught. And yes, I also want them punished.

Even now, when I see clips of 9/11, I am transported back to that time and feel the exact same emotions....horror, sadness, even fear. I think that it is important that we move forward from the happenings of 9/11. But I think it is just as important that we remember. Always. It has indeed changed us all. I hope that in order to honor those that have fallen, it has changed us for the better.

We owe it to them- to find joy in the blessings of our lives, to prosper, to continue to stand together. We are all survivors of 9/11. So we owe it to ouselves, as well.
To never forget.

The light of our lives

There is something about Laura that I don't mention enough. She is perfect. I know, I know...mothers love and all that. But I look at her sometimes and wonder what I did to be rewarded in life with this lovely creature. She is beautiful, no question...her luminous blue eyes and long gold hair, her trecherously long legs and quick smile. But there's more. She is funny and kind and eager to please and smart as a whip.

Don't get me wrong. She has her moments. She is especially hard-headed with her dad on weekends when I'm working (or so I hear). She has a tendency to coccoon herself in her room and deny the other girls entrance. She puts off (and off) her reading assignments and chores. She's been known to talk back....though rarely to me.

I so treasure what she and I have. She is open with me, enjoys hanging out and talking, rarely complains. She is just a bright shinging light in my life. I enjoy her company, I revel in her accomplishments, and I take nothing for granted. All of my other kids have things about them that make them precious to me. I have talked about them all in this blog, except Laura. Maybe I haven't written about her because she causes me so little worry. I think it's easy to overlook the "easiest" child because it's the others that NEED so much. But I don't do that intentionally.

Laura was my first daughter. I remember the ultrasound where Patrik and I found out she was a girl and I just wept and wept for joy. I LOVE my boys, but was so thrilled to be getting a daughter. And this kid hasn't disappointed! She is lovely in every sense.

I am proud of her and love her and respect her. I am so afraid that our relationship will become like so many of my friends' relationships with their daughters when puberty hit...distant and sulking and moody. So I try very hard even now to let Laura know that she has my respect, my ear, my shoulder whenever she needs it. I would just fall into dispair if she pulled as far away from me as I have seen some teenage girls do. It would shatter me. I know I must give her wings, but not yet please, and not like that. I am blessed that the boys never really went through that stage with me, that they STILL feel that they can tell me anything (sometimes that's wonderful, sometimes downright shocking!). I hope and pray the girls will be the same with me. I never went through that particular teenaged angst with my mom. I always felt close to her, wasn't embarrassed by her presence, still kiss her goodbye. This is what I want with the girls. This gift that my mother gave me, of knowing I am loved and honored no matter what, this I want to share with my daughters. (Thank you, mom)

Laura is the oldest. She will go through most of life's changes and challenges first. I watch her grow and already wonder where my baby girl has gone. And then I look into her eyes and see she is still right here, with me, for as long as I can keep her.

I don't know what our future holds, but I know this: for all of her life, I will forever be her soft place to fall.

Odd (wo)man out

I have been so busy with life in general that I have not blogged in ages. Sorry about that! Summer break is in full swing and the kids are keeping me busy. 60 people were laid off from my company this week and I am breathing a sigh of relief that at least for now I wasn't one of them. Times are tough right now and I wish hard everyday for something truly good to happen to boost the country's morale.

Laura and Julia are home until school starts again August 18. Needless to say the noise level has increased exponentially in the house. They are frequently bored but play together quite nicely. They are true sisters and I hope that never changes. But it makes me wish I'd gone ahead and had a 6th blessing to be Emma's buddy. She wants so very much to be a part of the older girls' clique and Patrik and I try very hard to encourage her inclusion, but I also understand why they want to play alone most of the time. Emma is little, doesn't get the fine aspects of Barbie or school play, and gets into their "stuff". She just so wants to be BIG. And of course it isn't the same when the older girls are forced to allow Emma to join them. Emma is loud and demanding and smart and wants her way (ah, 3 year olds). Even coaching her to play their way doesn't change the fact that she is who she is.

I give the older girls plenty of space but sometimes I just can't stand Emma's loneliness. Not for me...I readily sit with her and watch her shows and read her stories. But the other night the older girls were having a ball in Laura's room and Emma sat alone, silent, at the computer and my heart just broke. I don't know the answer to this and I worry worry that there will always be some seperation between the twosome and Emma. She is different in her own lovely way but so tiny, really. Only been alive for 43 months. Jeez.

I hope that as she grows it will be easier for her to meld with her sisters, that she won't always be the odd man out. And for now I do my best to let her know that she is so very important, and loved, and perfect just the way she is.

Because she is.

ps...and she's FINALLY out of diapers! Praise the Lord!

*thinking of you and wishing you well, Uncle Tom*

Large families and God's will

The Duggar family, which has been profiled exhaustively on TLC, is expecting their 18th child. Eighteenth. I used to really be impressed with them and the way they seemed to hold it all together under the clear stress of raising such a large family. I had no problem with their belief that it was God's will to have so many children. They were mentioned in the paper over the weekend for their coming attraction and on the local radio this morning. And I have to be honest..at this point I don't get it.
I don't get how there is any way possible to parent such a massive brood. I don't think God would want any parental unit so outnumbered that they have to put the older kids in charge of the younger ones. And I don't get how being a mother to kids you cannot possibly keep up with can be rewarding.
I have 5 kids and I can barely keep up with the day to day. It would never occur to me to put older kids in charge of the wellbeing of younger ones. They are my kids, it was my choice to have them. It wouldn't be fair to have someone else spend their energy looking out for them.
So I have gone from revering the Duggars to feeling something close to disdain. I feel sorry for the older kids, the eldest is only 20 and he has been looking out for younger siblings forever. How will he ever break free? It is mathematically impossible for that mom to mother each of those kids everyday. And really, if you can't parent your own children, you have no business having more.
It certainly is their right to continue to procreate. But I'm tired of them, I think they're ridiculous. They're having another baby and the last one is only 9 months old. So that baby couldn't even have mama to herself for the first year...she's pregnant and has to deal with all that that entails. The parents are exploiting those kids on television and have in turn been able to procure quite a profit (7000 sq foot house..on the salary of one working parent? I think not).
I believe God is all for large families. Within reason. The minute you cannot in good concience spend adequate time with each of them, it's time to control yourself and stop. And just love the blessings you have.

The Duggars have twisted the phrase "All that God intended". Because God also gave these people a brain and common sense. I bet at this point He wishes they'd use them.

The lesson of the pontoon boat

Dad wanted to buy a pontoon boat. The people that lived across the street in Key Haven had one that, if memory serves, they wanted to sell. Dad thought it would be great to get it, have little Lehman parties on the canal. And he would have loved it. But he kpet putting it off and putting it off. And then he got sick. And then he died. He never got his pontoon boat.
I try to remember this simple lesson of putting things off, one that he ceretainly had no intention of teaching. If there is something that would bring me joy, I should try to do that, even if it means sacrificing something else. Even if the time may not be quite right. For so many things in life, the time may never be just right: getting married, going back to school, having children, taking a much needed vacation. Life does, indeed, get in the way. Although I try to remember the pontoon boat, I am as guilty of everyone of putting things off until a better time. If I hadn't just bitten the bullet and made plans, I never would have gone to Key West last week and I would have missed out on watching the girls bond with each other and us, on quiet time with Patrik, on seeing their faces gaze through the glass bottomed boat at the snarly barracuda, on seeing them handle crabs and sea cucumbers in the aquarium's touch tank. And that would have been a great loss that I wouldn't have realized I'd missed if I hadn't gone.
I put things off all the time. I want to spend more time with Kerri but there's the laundry and the dishes and the homework...I enjoy taking the kids to the park but there always seems to be something ELSE to do...I don't see enough of my brothers or my mom because we are all so caught up in our own lives.
Tsk. Dad is surely shaking his head at us. There is nothing to say that today will not be our last. And so far I have spent my day thawing marinara, washing clothes, unloading the dishwasher. I would surely be regretful at the pearly gates if I didn't make a concious choice to do more of the things that bring me joy this day.
I will try harder to keep in mind that time on this earth is not infinite. That what I do today could bring a wonderful memory to those I love. That, yes, there is work and chores and bills to pay.

But there is also a pontoon boat with twinkly lights and Jimmy Buffet on the radio and a sunset to revel in. And I want to be on it.

Glorious Key West

We came home from our vacation on Sunday and I could just rave about it. We spent maybe 3 daylight hours total inside. The rest of the time was spent with the girls turning to prunes in the pool and Patrik and I lazing around in the sun (or shade by day 3). The house we stayed at belongs to his sister Claudia and I cannot thank her enough for letting us stay there. It was really beautiful and the pool with the waterfall was the best part...just ask the girls. It was a week of bliss and though we were ready to come home (Laura in particular was getting homesick in the end), I'd go back in a minute. Patrik got to fish and hang out with his friends and I barely even cracked the book I took. We saw lots of Patrik's mom, which was great because today she leaves to return to Slovakia. I would have liked to see more of Claudia, but she had her own busy life going on. Next time...
It was warm and sunny the entire trip except for a little rain the first day which cleared pretty quickly. Everyone is a little tan and thanks to my vigilance with sunblock on the kids no one got burned except me! The last two days in Jupiter have been quite chilly so I miss Key West already! It was so good for all of us to spend some real quality time together. I didn't go to the La Concha (which isn't even the La Concha anymore) because I was afraid it would make me sad and I didn't want to burst my bubble. I did, however, go by mom and dad's house on Key Haven and was relieved to see that it didn't affect me like I'd worried it would. Someone has built a big concrete stilt house right next to it and there were 5 cars parked outside the old place. Turns out that it isn't mom and dad's place anymore so it was okay.
I go back to work on Saturday and the kids are back at school, Patrik back at work. So it's back to the rigors of daily life. The memories of Key West will get me through for awhile and I am sorry I waited so long to go. Life is too short to put off things that bring you joy.

Go find your bliss.

The truth about large families

Everyone knows how I adore my kids and how proud I feel when I tell people that I have five children. But here's my dirty little secret: I have days, sometimes stretches of days, when I want to hang up my motherhood hat and take a vacation from it.
This is something that I have guilt over but it's the truth. There are times when I don't care what Laura made on her vocabulary test and I don't want to run letters and sounds with Julia. Emma is probably not potty trained because I refuse to toil away at it so I wait until it comes from her. My house is peaceful when the older boys are out and if I have to nag Chase one more time about saving money I may explode.
The thing is, most of the time I am filled with joy about these duties. They give my life form and purpose. And then there's days like today, when I am so sick of pre-school television and have no desire whatsoever to go meet with Julia's teacher and the idea of no school tomorrow and all 3 home the entire day fills me with something like dread. I am feeling outnumbered and tired and I wonder what it's all about. It is true that I have no time carved out for myself. The idea of going over to mom's when Patrik gets home from work appeals to me but then I feel badly because I feel I don't see enough of the kids as it is.
I have this exquisite fantasy about packing up and running away from home. Just getting in the car and heading to a beach cottage somewhere to read books under a beach umbrella and drink frosty Absolut and cranberry (with a lime) and not even glancing at the clock or television. This fantasy usually pops up after nights like last night, which was Julia's birthday. It was lovely UNTIL...Emma threw a fit because Julia wanted to play with some of her own gifts (and this after being more than generous about sharing). Emma's noise level increased to a decible only dogs and mothers can hear. Chris was here for a bit and brought 2 friends and they were loud. I looked around this tiny house and thought, "Calgon, take me away..."
I am outnumbered. Even when the boys aren't here. And I'm only human. Patrik is a great help on weekends: he cooks, cleans house, watches all three girls and works in the yard. But he is smart enough to take time for himself every Wednesday to play soccer and I know it revives him. I wish I had it in me to go play, but even when I say I am going to, I don't. I'm just too tired. What I really want to do is get a hotel room and sleep for 2 days. And order room service.
I suppose that this isn't just about being the mom to a large family. I imagine most moms feel this way at one time or another and that brings me some comfort. I borrow self-help books from the library about taking me time and caring for self and then don't have time to read them (or energy).
When we go to Key West on the 7th I am going to take a night for me. I swear to God. I am going to take my mother-in-law up on her offer to babysit (she is very generous about this), I am going to send Patrik out with his Slovak friends, and I am going to sit by the pool with a novel and music on. ALONE. Because I really really need to recharge. I know I am no good to my family when I feel this disconnected and run down. It's the old airplane rule: mothers put your oxygen mask on first, then attend to your children. Well, my oxygen mask is dusty from lack of use. Instead of running away, maybe I just need to put it on.

On being Julia

On Wednesday the 26th Julia will turn 6. I don't know how this happened, since of course she was born last week. Be that as it may, here she is, this lovely, growing girl that is so different from any of my other children. Laura and Chris are quite alike in there mellow calm. Emma and Chase are more alike than I can even believe (think stubborn and opinionated and too smart for their own good [or mine!]). Then there's this Julia.
From the very begining she was different. She was born with a huge shock of ebony hair, a first and last for me. Everyone else was blonde. She completely mixed up her nights and days for weeks (read: no sleep for me for weeks!). And I worried about her, with her sweet little cherub face and gentle demeanor. I worried about the middle child stuff after Emma was born. I worried that she would feel too different compared to everyone else's towheaded glow. But she has suprised me. She is quite comfortable in her own skin. She doesn't feel compared to, and I hope she never does. She is not as quick as Laura at school, still has a little baby lisp in some of her speech, still has accidents at night every now and then. But she is the most loving of the 5. She would rather cuddle on the couch with me or daddy (or Gram, above) and watch a movie or read than almost anything else. She still likes a kiss goodbye at parent drop off (Laura is out of the car like a shot). She literally sings upon waking in the morning which has more than once brought me to tears of love. My heart aches with adoration for this child. She dances and sings and is just full of joy.

So it has occurred to me that the person doing the comparing to her siblings was me all along. I am not proud of this. It just is what it is. And I don't do it any more. Because what makes her different and unique is what makes her Julia. Thank God she remains that lovey little brunette with the green eyes and the drive to sing songs. She hardly ever complains. In fact the other night I was getting in the shower and Patrik was washing the girls' hair in the tub when I heard her burst into tears (Emma had confiscated a toy of hers) and it occurred to me that I hadn't heard her cry in so long it was like a foreign thing. Emma cries about everything from bedtime to not getting her way. Laura is a little drama queen at times and a sideways look will set her off. But Julia is just as content as can be. Truly. I pray that this will remain the case for a long time. She will get her heart broken, people will be (and have been) not very nice to her. But she is still gloriously happy. She is easily comforted and eager to be a part of the group. She is a star.

Happy birthday, Julia baby. You light up my life. And I hope you never change.

Emma the vulture

Saturday night I came home from work and though I am usually too tired to have dinner, I wanted a barbecue ham sandwich. Emma, who had already brushed her teeth and was for all intents and purposes ready for bed, appeared out of nowhere. She does this every time anyone gets ready to sit down and eat, even if her own dinner was half an hour earlier. It's so bad that I have found myself waiting untiil she goes to bed to eat. I am more firm than her daddy in saying no to this behavior but she still does it. This night she sat on the counter and watched me make a sandwich. "Can I have that?" she asked. I eyed her warily. "No," I said, "You already brushed your teeth." She thought about this for a minute and was not deterred. "But I like that." "You don't even know what this is," I told her. "It's whale." This gave her only brief pause. "I like whale," she assured me. I started giggling. "How do you know? You've never had whale." "Oh yes, "she chimed. "I do so like whale." "Whale is only for grown ups," I informed her. In the background Patrik started to crack up, telling me to cut it out. "I like whale," she repeated, very sure. In the end she ended up with a plate of her own, and to this day is positive that she does indeed like whale. Proving that not only will the kid eat anything, but I can convince her of anything as well. Except that kids can't eat whale. Or that she should be potty trained.
I am stunned that Easter is almost here. The older I get the more rapidly time flies, which is kind of frightening. I mean, it was just Christmas, for crying out loud. Then someone at work said yesterday that Christmas is only 9 months away. Sheesh. Julia will be 6 the Wednesday after Easter and I look at her in amazement. If last Christmas was only yesterday, then this beauty was born just a few months ago. They just keep growing no matter how much I want them to stop it. To remain my snuggly little girls. *sigh*
Chase is staying with us right now which he hasn't done for any length of time for quite a while. I sincerely enjoy his company. He has matured into such a lovely young man and I find myself doubting that all the troubles we've had in the past are real. The girls adore him and Julia in particular has a little crush on him. It's quite charming. Christopher remains in Palm City, 20 minutes north of us, staying with his friend Greg and his mom and seems to truly be thriving. He leaves at the end of the month for his chorus trip to New York City and he's so excited. This time next year we will be gearing up for his high school graduation. Don't get me started on how that makes me feel....where has the time gone?
Laura is a social butterfly these days. She seems to have a new party to go to every week (much to Julia's dismay. She's quite jealous even though we have assured her that her time will come.) She is such a beautiful little girl who is transforming right before my eyes. Everyone loves her. She is a gentle soul. I am so very proud of her. I have warned Patrik that in about 9 years he better brace himself for 3 daughters in puberty and a wife going through menopause. He may have to move....
My dear brother Joe is having a hard time coming to terms with his cat's cancer diagnosis. Joe is single, a very lovey guy, and since he has no children of his own he is super-uncle to mine and his cat is his child. I have never loved a pet the way he loves his and I am sad that he has to go through this. He goes to see a specialist vet today, and I fear the news won't be good. I hope he knows how just wonderful he is. I treasure him, we all do.

*thinking of you, Uncle Tom and Aunt MaryLee*

A few of my favorite things

In the book "The Art Of Mending" by Elizabeth Berg there is a passage that descibes the scene surrounding a photo taken of the narrator and her younger sister when they were children at Easter time:
**
"I remember that the moment the photo was taken, I dropped Caroline's hand and ran toward the car. "Wait for me!" she called, but I did not. I claimed the coveted seat by the window and then wiped the hand that had touched Caroline against the skirt of my new dress...over and over again. I think I might have used my purse to try to block anyone from seeing. But I can't be sure that is not just my horrified adult self, editing. Well, yes. That is what it is. Because now I remember that when Caroline got in the car she was carrying both her own purse and mine, which I'd left behind. She held it out to me, all hope, saying excitedly, "Here, Laura, you forgot this! You forgot our new purse!" "I don't want it, "I said, staring straight ahead, "I don't even like it." It was the possessive pronoun I objected to. From the corner of my eye, I saw her hesitate, then put the purse gently down on the seat between us. I saw her straighten it just the tiniest bit, then struggle to move herslf into a comfortable position without distrubing anything."
**

In that passage the girls are maybe 5 and 7. It breaks my heart every time I read it because of its honesty. I want to pick that little Caroline up and smother her in my arms and tell her she is perfect just the way she is. This is why I love Berg's writing. She takes life and puts it on a page with the soulfullness of what is true. I have read her "Talk Before Sleep" probably 2 dozen times and it still brings me to tears. There is something to be said about the lives of women, and she says it beautifully.
I also enjoy Jodi Piccoult for taking events and placing a new perspective on them. "My Sister's Keeper" is outstanding. And Anita Shreve, her novels all full of historic reference, is so unususal, I am never sure of the ending even when I think I am sure: "The Pilot's Wife" is great, and I think the title is "The Last Thing He Said" but the ending was such a shock I threw the book across the room in disbelief then ran to get it and re-read the last paragraphs to be sure it really ended that way.
I have visited postsecret.com every week since I checked a book out of the library with the featured post cards. The premise: we all have secrets and some are just screaming to get out. The man in charge of post secret calls for people to mail postcards with their deepest secrets creatively placed on them and he posts a new set every Sunday. A natural voyeur, I am fascinated by these.
My favorite blogger is Catherine Newman, who hosts a parenting blog on Wondertime.com called the Dali Mama. It is full of the sublime ups and downs of parenting small children and I applaud her honesty.
My brother Joe has worked exhaustively to document the fall of Grossinger's Resort in the Catskills of New York and the tribute is lovingly displayed on his website joe4speed.com.
My new wish is to have my favorite photgraphs transformed on mydavinci.com. They take your favorite and can do anything from a pencil sketch to an oil painting of it. My birthday is coming..... ;-)

My favorite thing in the world is spending time with my beloved family from the kids to cousins I hardly am ever lucky enough to get to see. But some I saw this past weekend and was so touched by the fact that no matter how long we go between visits, we have the kind of family that can just pick up where we left off as if one of us had just run to the market instead of being separated by miles and years. I love you all.

ps. Thank you, Judy, for your kind words. I hoard them like the treasure they are.

Dying is for the living

Every now and then my job really gets to me. It is always heart tendering to comfort someone at the end of their lives and their families but some of my patients get under my skin more than others.
Last weekend I cared for two families that touched me, whose experience stayed with me long after I went home at the end of my shift. They were both Hispanic families, big families. The love they had for the person fading away was so clear and bright one almost had to shade their eyes from it. They were not only immensely supportive of their loved one, but of each other. It was a lovely thing to watch and I was honored to be a part of that.
Almost unconditionally, by the time someone has chosen to enter Hospice, they have come to terms with their mortality and are ready to travel that road. Not always so for their families. I have had only one patient in nearly 2 years that has expressed fear of dying, but I have had a family nearly every day that is struggling to find peace with the end of a loved ones life. I, of course, completely understand this and do my very best to give them the support and comfort they need to both accept the inevitable and find the courage to move on. This is the hardest part of my job. Because even now I have days where I struggle with dad's loss, the desire for one more day, or hour, to say what I want to say.
That is the grace of hospice. We strive to allow people to stop focusing on the disease and start focusing on the person. It is a chance for a daughter to stop nursing her mother and just be her beloved little girl, for a son to let go of past troubles with their father and hold his hand in quiet understanding. It is a peaceful time for most, believe it or not, and I have been honored to witness many a "good death".
One of the families that touched me last weekend put up old pictures of the patient all over the room: his wedding, standing in his armed services uniform, laying in a raft in a pool. They had a slideshow set up on their laptop of this person holding his babies and cradling his grandchildren. His death became a celebration of his life. It is the way we should all be lucky enough to go.

I have told people this before but I'll put it here for posterity. I used to be one of those people afraid of dying. It is a natural thing, the living are hungry for life. But when my time comes I want to find peace in the surrounding of those I love, and I want them to find peace in knowing I have had a truly blessed life and am only sorry to leave them behind, not afraid of the next journey. I wish to be cremated and buried so the kids have a place to go if they need that sort of thing. I want "The Circle of Life" (from Disney's The Lion King) played exhuberantly at my funeral. And I want everyone to know that I wouldn't have changed a thing. I am lucky, and I know it.

My patients are ready to pass onto something new. I am more there for their loved ones, because letting go is hard. I should know. I've been trying to do it for 7 years.

New family picture at bottom of blog page...

At some point (the next time my brother Joe comes to visit) I will figure out how to post new pictures at the base of each entry. For now, please don't miss the great photo of our family on Christmas day last year. It was a treasure to for once have EVERYONE together.

Thinking of Dad

My Dad has been on my mind alot lately. I mean, he's always on my mind just out of my actual concious, but I have been actively thinking of him the last few days. Maybe it's the Key West trip that we're planning, or the fact that I put an "In Loving Memory" decal on my car's back window that I see every time I look in the rear view mirror. Regardless, he's wandering around.
I was always daddy's little girl and much to my brothers' chagrin, I knew it. When he died I had spent a lifetime with that identity and suddenly I didn't know who I was. Turns out I'm still daddy's little girl, even though he's gone. Growing up he was pretty easy on me, and I worked very hard to make him proud. Mom was easier...she was proud of me for just being. Dad thrilled in accomplishments. It was his nature. I wonder if my brothers resented that A's school came so easily for me. If they got a little satisfaction when Dad didn't come to my high school graduation (a thing I knew he regretted almost as soon as he did it). I wouldn't have blamed them. I never meant to shadow over them, I just wanted to please. I spent most of my childhood seeking out my dad's approval and he readily gave it. I expected alot of myself because he did and for better or for worse in many ways we were very alike.
I had a great childhood, a happy one even if in the midst of it I didn't know it. I hated the moving then, but now I wouldn't trade those memories. I especially loved New Orleans and the house on Nyetimber in Coraopolis is the one in my head when I think of what our perfect house would be.
I enjoyed my parents' company and never recall going through a stage like so many of my friends where my parents were uncool or that I hated their very existence. I was lucky. My parents WERE cool, and fun, and I hads plenty of extended family that were as well. There weren't many people whose company I preferred, and that holds true even now.

*I remember the BI bag. When we lived in Punta Gorda we would pack stuff in that bag-it was black nylon and in yellow letters had BIBIBI on it. Joe and I played house in the gigantic banyan behind the house in Punta Gorda and mom let us go hang out at the green shelter with a bunch of old war vets who sat around smoking and playing cards. (my kids will not round the corner...a perfect testament to how things have changed). I also remember horseshoe crab spawning season when they would hit the beach by the tons. And I recall a clever note Mark put on his bedroom door that forbid Joe and I enterance under penalty of hanging by our nose hairs.
*I fondly remember going to Station Square in Pittsburgh with mom and dad and having fried ice cream at the Mexican place there. Patrik and I ate there on our honeymoon. And nothing before or since has ever compared to the fireworks at the point on the 4th of July.
*Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and Fantasy fest in Key West. These things brought out the best in dad, who always knew how to have fun. He was a natural host as well, and sincerely loved when family came to visit. It absolutely put him in his element.
*Dad was so worried about having our wedding reception at the La Concha. He was afraid that something would go wrong, that he wouldn't enjoy himself because it was his workplace. But I am pretty sure it was as close to perfect as it could get and I had a ball at my own wedding. Patrik did too, what he can remember of it (he said he was so nervous standing in front of the church he sweat through his tux before I even walked dwon the aisle). Not me, not this time. I had a blast and loved that so many of my family could be there...it was indeed the last great time dad would be able to host.

I miss dad. All the time, and some moments the sorrow of his loss hits harder than others. He absolutely unconditionally loved his grandsons. And so many years after Chris was born he was so very pleased to be getting a granddaughter. I remember sitting on the back porch of the house in Key West and having him tentively place his hand on my big belly, the look on his face when Laura gave him a swift kick. He was robbed of all the things he would have loved in watching a granddaughter grow ("I can't wait to bounce her on my knee," he had said.). And my girls have been completely cheated of a grandfather, a "Pops", who wanted to fly kites and give ice cream and explore the world with them. He not being here to get to know these lovely daugheters of mine, and they missing out on all he had to offer, is my absolute greatest regret in losing him so soon. I had him for 31 years. The girls never had him at all. I keep him alive in my home as much as I can, with picutes and old home movies and mentioning him often. Truly often. Julia swears she knew him but he was gone long before she was born. Still, that she feels like she knows him makes me glad.

Not as glad as if he were here.
Except he is, sort of. In my heart, always. He is a part of our history.
And our present, too.

Random thoughts

My wandering mind is having a hard time settling, as I said in my earlier post...so I thought I'd ramble a little on my blog today. I try to stick to a theme in my posts but not this one, and not the ones that follow with the title "random thoughts". Sometimes a girl's just gotta "talk".

Why won't Emma potty train? When we have the potty conversation she looks at me with such disdain I can already see how she'll look at 15 when I hand down a curfew. Of the 5 kids, she is the only one still in diapers at this age and the only one who has no interest whatsoever in getting out of said diapers. I try to be quite liberal about this..I pushed Chase and we struggled then right after he turned 3 it was like a switch was flipped and that was that. I swore after that that I'd let the kids clue me as to when they're ready to get out of diapers and it hasn't failed me...until now. I know I know...no one has ever gone to college in diaper (with a binky, holding a bottle) but still...I'VE had enough of diapers so I wish she'd catch up with me here...
I co-signed for a bike for Chase. In bike I mean motorcycle. In motorcycle I mean a street legal dirt bike (1 cylinder, max speed of 80mph) and even though my mommy sensors are screaming, I was so pleased to be able to do this for him. After his car was totalled in an accident (another of his 9 lives...) he was completely at the whim of his dad and paternal grandparents, who have been wonderful at getting him around but I know at 20 that lack of independence was killing him. So I did it...He is so gloriously happy...I can't do alot for him but this I could do. It's very pretty as dirt bikes go and he is required to wear a helmet (by me and by law until 21) and he's fully insured (my law), and I just believe in him with this. I don't know why, I just do. It's HIS, he loves it, he's proud of it. It is so nice to see him so pleased...
I have lost 25 pounds since New Year's and I am shocked by this. I never get on the scale because it is so enormously depressing...I have never weighed as much as I did at Christmastime...then I started taking Chantix again to quit the dabbling in smoking I was doing and it not only wrecks my craving to smoke but it curbs my appetite. I noticed a change in the way my clothes fit so got warily on the scale and was so happy at the number I saw. I have quite a ways to go but it's a good start. I don't want to be skinny...it's too much work. I want to be healthy.
I have two people in my life dealing with major health issues. They run around in my mind all the time so I want them to know that they are there-in my thoughts. It is such an impotent rage I carry when someone I love is ill. I want to be able to fix it, and know I can't do a thing but pray and love them....and so I do...
Laura lost my engagement ring. I am being very diplomatic about it, but I am terribly disappointed. She saw it in my jewelry box when I was letting her look at my earrings a few months back and a week later I realized it was missing. At first she denied it (way too quickly, if you know what I mean)( but after some pressure she admitted to "throwing it under my bed" because she didn't want to get in trouble. Well, it's no where. I'm sure the vacuum has taken care of it long ago. It was such a pretty, nearly perfect, heart shaped diamond that sat so nicely above my wedding ring. But I have let this go. What am I going to do? Rage at the 7 year old? To what end? She knows we're upset. It's enough. But I still miss it.
We are going to Key West for spring break at the bneginning of April. We will stay at Patrik's sisters SECOND house. I haven't been to Key West since dad died and am looking forward to this trip with a mix of dread and pleasure. I know feelings will be triggered (yes, mom, I will go see Nara), but I think it'll be fun. I want to take the kids to sunset and for a ride on the glass bottomed boat. I want to eat at Blue Heaven while the chickens run around under the table. And I want to go to the house on Bougainvaillea, the last place my dad lived, and remember.

There. I feel better.
*wink*

72 degrees, sunny and cloudless in South Florida...

The speed of life

I am so easily distracted lately. I have a hard time sitting through a movie and I yawn through every story I read the girls. I think there's just so much going ON that in order to move forward my brain does a disconnect.
Last Thursday Patrik and I took the girls to the South Florida Fair. And despite the fact that I had a stomach ache, we had a grand time. This is the second time Emma, 3, has been but the first time she was old enough to do anything. The first thing we did is all pile on the ferris wheel and boy oh boy was that something! After that all she wanted to do was ride the rides...this can get pricey. So we distracted her with the alligator show.
She didn't move through the entire show. She sat on my lap and kept whispering in my ear, "That man has to be careful. Alligator will bite him..." God, she is so endearing. When we left she announced that the alligator show was the best part. A future environmentalist, maybe? Or maybe just a nutty chick that runs an alligator farm...time will tell.
Julia ,5, rode those swings. You know the ones that go in a circle and fly waaay out...I couldn't even watch her, I was so nervous for her. But she's so brave...she got off, informed me she wasn't going on THAT ride ever again, and moved on to the roller coaster.
Laura, 7, will do almost anything once and LOVED going down the big slide with her dad. They did it a couple of times. And she also has no problem going on the kiddie rides with Emma...she is the mother hen of the 3.
We spent $18 on 3 hot dogs and 3 small sodas, another $130 on admission and rides and a big thing of cotton candy. The hell with the budget. This is once a year. We never do anything together because Patrik and I work seperate schedules so we don't have to put Emma in day care. I never second guess spending money on family time. It is too precious and too rare. In October we are going to Disney World and we're staying at the Nick hotel. I cannot praise the hotel enough...the pools alone are worth the cost. And running into Blue or Spongebob in the hall on your way to lunch?..priceless. So I won't give money a second thought there either. We lay out what we can afford and if we go over we sweat it LATER. Because life is short and so is childhood.
I can't keep up with everyday. This morning I fed 3 faces, packed two lunches and a snack for Julia's class trip to the zoo, and hopped on here with my cappuccino at my side to leave my mark. I may fall behind in the day to day, but for family time I slow down. I virtually stop...because I don't want to miss it.

Shelter them

The other day I saw the second of two Pedigree dog food commercials that literally brought me to tears. The first one came out at the end of last year and had a dog in a shelter cage with the narrator speaking for him-"I don't know why I'm here...I am a good dog..." Every single time I saw that ad I was saddened. The most recent one shows this happy shaggy dog again in a shelter who gets all excited as a couple of people pause in front of his crate, then gets real still when these people move on...It is actually so touching but sad too.
Every dog I have ever had as an adult has come from a shelter. Hailey that we had to give away when Brian and I split up. Then there was our beloved Red who was nuts but you couldn't not adore him despite his psychosis. Now I have Lucky. Patrik and I were tossing around the idea of getting another dog about a year and a half after we gave Red to some people with wide open spaces for him to roam in. So I packed up Julia and Emma and we went to the shelter. I WAS JUST GOING TO LOOK. I swear. But those shelters just break my heart, all those dogs left behind. Not knowing why, what they did that was so bad to earn them a cage all alone. Lucky was the only younger dog at the shelter that day. We took her out and played with her a little and because Patrik and I had not totally agreed to get a dog, we left without her. And her face haunted me all night. I couldn't get her off my mind. I kept going on the website to see if she'd been adopted that day and wondered if she was scared, if she was cold....
The next morning the girls and I were back at the shelter the minute they opened and adopted this goofy dog. Julia named her Lucky and she is now a beloved part of our family. When I called Patrik after we got home with her I said, "So I have this dog..." and he said "I thought you were just looking!" But we all love her. She is a good fit for us, not too big, playful, protective, smart and loving, and doesn't mind being crated.
I appreciate pure bred dogs. Some of them are beautiful and if I could have afforded one we probably would have ended up with a golden lab. But fate is a funny thing...if we had a lab what would have become of little Lucky? I encourage people to adopt when they are looking for pets. If not for the girls I would have liked to adopt an older dog because I feel most badly for them...like infant children, puppies are more easily adopted. But I had to be sure of a limited history because I didn't want something to trigger something in an older dog to make having one around small grabby kids unsafe. I can't imagine an older dog who has spent his faithful life with someone being dumped off to end his life at a shelter.
Thousands and thousands of dogs and cats are euthanized every year. They are tossing around a mandatory spay and neuter ordinance here and I'm all for it. There is no reason to add more heartache to an animal's life.
Lucky will be with us until her time comes. And when she is gone I already know our next dog will again be a shelter dog.
Because I feel they need us and the love we have to offer more.

Then and now-boys and girls

I have become one of those parents that is a little paranoid. I wasn't always like this. I certainly didn't grow up to be like this. When I was a kid Joe and I would roam about, free, and I'm pretty sure my parents weren't worried that we'd be abducted and never heard from again. We stayed out past dark and as long as they had a relative idea of where we were, we had alot of freedom. When we lived in Coraopolis we had a house near some fantastic woods. There were caves and hills and streams...we'd wandered around for hours. These days I won't let the girls out of my sight. Literally. There is no biking around the corner, no sleeping in cool weather with the windows open, no sleep overs.
I wasn't like this with the boys which makes me wonder if I'm like this BECAUSE the girls are girls or if the world has changed so much in the last decade that it's my only wise choice. I let the boys do their thing quite often, walking or biking to and from school as young as 7 years old, playing outside after dark, staying entire weekends at some friend's house. In comparison the girls are positively smothered.
I'm so afraid that something unspeakable will happen to them if I am not completely vigilant. My husband is the same way. In fact, he is the one who placed a moratorium on sleep-overs. I am saddened by this, because in doing what we think is keeping them safe, we are also robbing them of some of the best parts of childhood.
So what is the middle ground here? I can't find it. If I let them wander and something, anything, happens, I won't be able to live with myself. If I hold them too close when they are older they may buck the system so hard I could lose them anyway. Every time I hear about another crime against a child, most especially a little girl, my stomach tightens. That little Madeline missing from a hotel room in Portugal, Polly Klaas, on and on. It is not a safe world for our children...but at what cost comes the reassurance that they are within reach?
If they were little boys I wonder if I would feel differently. I wanted the boys to be safe, but I was never afraid that letting them PLAY would bring them harm. Not so with my three daughters. The big bad wolf could be anywhere...and in sheep's clothing to boot.
Maybe as they grow older I won't be so worried. But older girls just seem to have a whole new set of threats, and these days they seem to reach that age of adolescent peril younger than ever.
Looks like I may never rest easy. I am so honored to be a mother to daughters. And I'm also a nervous wreck.
For now my girls are small enough not to balk too hard at my grip. But I know the day will come sooner than I'd like when I have to reason why I am the way I am with them. And I expect a fight. If I don't learn to loosen this parenting noose a little, they won't be able to go out into the world with any sort of confidence. But when is the time right for that? When they're 10? 13? 45?

Everyday is a new lesson. I hope I am learning the right ones.

The dream is for all of us

I love Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech. It embodies, to me, the good in us all, the visceral hope we all have for mankind. My favorite line, "I hope that one day my four little children will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."
I hope the same thing for my five. Injustice is everywhere but I am still hopeful that when it comes down to it, judgement on any one individual will be fair and right. This is naive, I know...but I can dream.
I stopped watching the news after 9-11. Before that I spent too many hours holding my little Laura and weeping. The television was on day and night for 2 weeks. Like most of us, despite the horror I couldn't tear my eyes away. It is a sophomoric form of rubber-necking, this need to gaze upon tradgedy even though it keeps us up at night. Then something in me snapped and off the television went. I couldn't take one more image. And I stayed away until hurricane Katrina hit my once-hometown of beloved New Orleans and it started all over again. I don't know why I do this to myself. I wept again the day after the storm hit as the levees gave way and that city was drowned, as the little children stood stranded and frightened on the overpass waiting for anyone to help, as our government floundered with this rescue mission. We can get troops to Iraq faster than we rescued those folks.
But I digress. After the Katrina debacle and submerging myself again in sadness, I started to have panic attacks, and sat Patrik down and told him that the nightmares about water were wrecking me, that we had to move and get away from water...that our very lives depended on it. Off the tv went. And I slowly moved on and past that fear. There was no more news again for me for a long time.
Life isn't fair. But I truly believe that each of us wakes each morning with the best of intentions. And it all starts with childhood. A terrorist was not born a terrorist. He was made into one. Children are our clean slate. They are the future of the world. And though I realize that a parent can simply do everything right and still have their beloved child turn into a monster, the odds are greater that this will not be the case. If a child grows up secure and loved and not in a life fraught with injustice at every turn, his future bends in his favor. His future has hope.
I watch the news every now and then. I try to be objective about what is going on in the world right now but it isn't easy. I will keep putting one foot in front of the other , I will love and hold my children as often as I breathe, and do my best not to be ignorant or judgemental of humanity. And I hope as a reward the same will be done unto me and mine. It is the same dream as Dr. King's, and just as color-blind. Justice for all is a grand dream indeed.

Guilt comes knocking

Yesterday I was talking to my 17 year old, Christopher, on the phone. He was out and about, doing his thing. We exchanged concerns about my oldest son, Chase. Chase has spent most of his life searching for a certain confidence that always seems to elude him. He is incredibly bright, well-spoken, and lovely in all aspects. But he has always felt seperate from others. An outsider looking in. I carry such guilt for this. Despite the fact that what's done is done, I second guess so many things about his younger years.
Chase went to live with his dad in Alaska when he was just 8 years old. He was such an unhappy boy at times, and I felt I was failing him. I felt he was one of those kids that needed his dad. So, in the single most difficult decision of my life, I let him go. He loved Alaska. It wasn't perfect, but Alaska suited him. He was a little adventurer and he felt special. I was glad for that no matter how I missed him.
It was the move to Hawaii that seemed destined to change him. There, he met a prejudice that I didn't even know about, where the islanders spurn white kids. Chase started to struggle again and has never quite gotten his self esteem back on track. No matter how loved he is (and he IS!!) he still feels like an outsider sometimes.
It is frustrating for me. I go back through my history and think "what if?". As in "What if I had brought him home when he was having such a rough time?", "What if I had never sent him to live with his dad in the first place?", "What if this is all my fault?".
All parents struggle with guilt. I know this, I've talked to other parents. I've seen my mom second guess herself and choices made when my older brother was struggling with his own demons (a struggle he happily seems to have won). Guilt has no preference. Even those parents that are truly stellar (my friend Sandy at work) have moments of doubt. It can be crippling, stealing sleep and comfort.
But this worry is self-defeating. You can't go back and start over. There are no do-overs in parenting. Despite my heavy heart, I know that all any of us can ever do is our best. You give your children the love, the tools and lessons and hope when the time comes they will make the right choices for themselves.
I will continue to assure Chase that not only is he adored by all of us, that he is a gift to this world and has a purpose in this life. That he makes me swell with pride just by being himself. He with the nine lives, he is meant for something great. Wait and see.
And Christopher. He has never given me a moment's worry. He leads instead of following. He is self-assured and confident. I never worry that the phone call in the middle of the night is about him. This at least gives me comfort. Maybe I did something right after all. I am proud of his drive and passion. He will be a success simply because he refuses not to be.
Such different boys, born of the same parents. But it has never occured to me to compare them. I have never thought to say to either of them, "Why can't you be more like your brother?". Because then they wouldn't be these children I love. They are their own persons. They are as different as night and day but have both brought such joy to my life. They make me happy....and I want so much for that same happiness to envelop them in return. They both deserve it.
We all do.

Belonging

Last night my 3 year old, Emma, was laying on the floor in the hall peeking under the door into Julia's room. Both of my older girls were in there playing with their High School Musical dolls and we had told Emma she couldn't play this time. In giving the older girls some big girl time we have to ban Emma occaisionally and it breaks my heart.
The need to belong starts early and lasts all of our lives. I was not part of any clique at school when I was a kid for a very long time. I was always the new girl, and heavy with bad teeth to boot. It's not that I blamed the other kids for thinking I was a dork, but oh how I wanted to be THEM. Once I hit high school things changed and I found some good friends who were popular enough that riding their coattails sort of saved me. But that insecurity from before that time stays with me even now. I am a self-proclaimed hermit by nature: my favorite place on earth is within my own four walls with my family, these people who have never judged me, who don't care if my clothes are stylish or if I'm overweight and not wearing make-up. But I still want to fit in. Patrik, my husband, is a little neighborhood social butterfly. I love my neighbors and enjoy myself when I make the effort to join them outside just to hang out. But I rarely do it. I have no explanation for this except that I am still afraid that I am not cool enough. And I'm almost 40.
This may make me over-sensitive to the plight of my kids as they make their way through life. When Chase was 3 he got a baby brother, his dad and I split up, and we moved from Florida to be with my parents in New Jersey. It was a tough time for all of us. One morning I heard him out front talking to the kids who lived next door. They were older and were making it very clear that they didn't want anything to do with this over-eager little kid. They were talking amongst themselves about what they were going to be for Halloween. Chase, all bright excitement, said, "I'm going to be a dinosaur."
And they completely ignored him. He said it once or twice more with no response and I got up, went out there, and asked the kids to just be nice to him, that he was little. Their mom, in return, came out and told me to mind my business, that I couldn't MAKE them be his friend. I remember the heat filling my head. So no wonder these kids were so ignorant...and hurtful. Common courtesy wasn't part of their upbringing.
It would not be the last time I felt the need to stand up for my boys, but it was the first and it has always stuck with me. I don't tolerate bullies or bullying, a definite kickback from being mercilessly teased as a child at school. But I know I can't necessarily save them from it either. Kids can be heartless, downright mean. It is life, I know, but it doens't change my need to sheild them. These little people with their hearts wide open, so easily bruised-it's all I can do not to turn them into hermits, too. "Come, stay with me. I will keep you safe. I will never intentionally hurt you. You are perfect just the way you are."
But I won't. In order to become resilient adults, a lesson must be learned, trials must be met with strength, and your mom can't always deflect the blow. So every now and then, each of these little girls must sacrifice something for one another, whenther it be a big-girl playing space decimated by the baby sister who wants to have things her way, or by that little sister being shut out for a bit so those big girls can have a little privacy.
It is such a fine line I am walking. I want to keep them clear of the hurts of life for as long as I can, and I want them to learn to deal with the disappointment of not fitting in so Middle School doesn't kill them. At least here in my hermit's house, if someone gets left out, I can pull them into my lap and whisper sweet nothings in their ear and make it all better.
It's OUT THERE that I worry about.

This beginning

I have always wanted to be a writer. I filled notebooks with love and loss, almost always with some heartachy tragic ending, since I was 13. I still keep them and even read them sometimes, which brings me back to that old yearning. Now my goal is different. I want to remember what I have right now. I want to document these crazy, beautiful times before they too soon turn into yesterday's stuff. I have 5 children. One is grown, one is nearly so, and three still have eyes for only me (and their dad). Having my boys grown up so fast, I know how short this is...this Mommy time. I will always be their Mom, but Mommy is such a brief bright light..if you don't stop and pay attention, you will miss it....
I don't want to miss a thing.
I will fill this blog with the good stuff, and the not so good stuff. And I will admit it: it is for my kids, for my mom, for my family, for anyone that wants to see that they are not alone in the quagmire (though lovely it is) of motherhood. But mostly, it is for me. Because life can get in the way. And I don't want to forget that Emma, just 3, is barely holding on to that glorious curl at the base of her neck from her babyhood; that Julia, 5, sings upon waking and has a maniacal and contagious giggle; that Laura, 7, frightens me both with her beauty and the speed at which she is maturing; that Chris, 17, was only mine for so long that having him living out of the house nearly kills me with loss; that Chase, 20, is still just as loving and gentle with me when he's around that it nearly breaks my heart and want to turn back time to do it over, to do it right.

So here we go.