It's early in the morning. My favorite time of day, no matter what the season. Today is the first day of summer; the longest day of the year. Always a great day to enjoy sunlight and the sound of birds--especially early with a cup of coffee, and late with a glass of wine and a book. In a couple of hours, I'll be on my way to take my oldest to his college orientation, and my youngest will join me in a cabin at a beautiful state park where we will hike, swim and collect bugs for his summer homework. I'm so looking forward to the time we will spend together: it will soften any pangs from dropping his brother off, and will make amazing--and important--memories for both of us.
There's another special reason for the distraction, and the memories to come. Yesterday, a dear friend's father died. She, and two of her sisters, were with him. I knew the news was coming, but it still was impossible to brace myself for the onslaught of emotions when I heard the news. My heart went immediately to her and her family--where it had been for days, actually, but the funny thing is, I actually felt my heart leave and go to them, breaking in pieces along the way. Moments later it was back, heavy with the weight of grief and pain shared among loved ones. The memory of singing to my father with my sister just before he died fluttered through my mind, and I realized that Dad was surely welcoming my dear friend's Pop with the story, along with a warm man-hug, to the Heaven that I am sure all fathers share.
I cannot feel my friend's pain, but I so acutely understand. She was there, unexpectedly, at my father's wake, and for all these years I've known that I might not have made it through as well without her. I hope and pray that I can be as strong for her.
Bug collecting, hiking, and memory making with my son; this is how I will garner strength, and with all my heart, I will support her because she is my friend.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
It's a birthday day in our house today. The day couldn't be much more different from that day 16 years ago when we welcomed our second son. Today is chilly and damp; sweats and socks in the summer weather. That day was hot and sticky--I can still feel it!--and we had been strawberry picking over the weekend. It was a Tuesday, a solid week before my due date, and I was determined that the strawberries would not go to waste, so we were standing in a stinking hot kitchen stirring jam on the stove when I started to think I might be having contractions. We were going to finish that jam, though, dagnabit, so we sweated it out, me thinking these contractions were not so bad, considering their frequency, and Guy asking if we should get moving and just forget about the jam.
Have you ever made jam? Just leaving it without cleaning up the mess is really not an option. I had ruined a batch the year before, and remember still the rock hard glob that I spent days chipping out of the pot. Our firstborn had been induced, so we really had no idea what to expect when it came to labor that was not closely monitored and administered, lying in a hospital bed.
Once the jam was finished, and the pot washed, I had been having 7 minute contractions for about an hour, Jonathan had been picked up, and we headed to the hospital, where I labored f-o-r-e-v-e-r because we had gotten there too early. No wonder I thought the contractions were no big deal--they weren't! Eventually, they developed into something (what a difference!) and, after much frustration of women who came in after us leaving before us, I pushed twice and out came our big-headed baby boy! All 9lbs, 10oz of him. I remember being so excited for his brother to meet him, and just as excited to not be pregnant any more in that heat! I also remember the nurses telling us that they did not have diapers big enough for him in the nursery--they had to go up to pediatrics to find some--and the little bit of panic I felt wondering if he would fit in the clothes we brought to take him home in! (He almost fit in those pajamas. He wore them just the one time!)
In the years that have followed, he has put me through just about every emotion and every frustration nameable, and many that are not. He has the ability to make me crazy raging mad, as well as to touch my heart so deeply I smile, cry and melt all at once. He is at times one of the most mature people I know (yes, "people," not "kids"), and at other times such a baby. He makes me crazy. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry, despite my best efforts. He makes me proud. He embarrasses me. I love him dearly, though there really are times when I don't like him much.
More than anything, I hope I have done right by him. I hope I have been the momma he needed when he was small, and the momma he needs now. Sometimes I see him do things, or hear him say things that just make me cringe, and I wonder if I have failed in some way. Those are the days I want to go back in time and hold him in my arms again--but then I remember that he was never much of a snuggler, and I chuckle at the memory. He always was a great hugger, though, and still is, when I ask.
Happy birthday, Henry Lou. I love you. So very much.
Have you ever made jam? Just leaving it without cleaning up the mess is really not an option. I had ruined a batch the year before, and remember still the rock hard glob that I spent days chipping out of the pot. Our firstborn had been induced, so we really had no idea what to expect when it came to labor that was not closely monitored and administered, lying in a hospital bed.
Once the jam was finished, and the pot washed, I had been having 7 minute contractions for about an hour, Jonathan had been picked up, and we headed to the hospital, where I labored f-o-r-e-v-e-r because we had gotten there too early. No wonder I thought the contractions were no big deal--they weren't! Eventually, they developed into something (what a difference!) and, after much frustration of women who came in after us leaving before us, I pushed twice and out came our big-headed baby boy! All 9lbs, 10oz of him. I remember being so excited for his brother to meet him, and just as excited to not be pregnant any more in that heat! I also remember the nurses telling us that they did not have diapers big enough for him in the nursery--they had to go up to pediatrics to find some--and the little bit of panic I felt wondering if he would fit in the clothes we brought to take him home in! (He almost fit in those pajamas. He wore them just the one time!)
In the years that have followed, he has put me through just about every emotion and every frustration nameable, and many that are not. He has the ability to make me crazy raging mad, as well as to touch my heart so deeply I smile, cry and melt all at once. He is at times one of the most mature people I know (yes, "people," not "kids"), and at other times such a baby. He makes me crazy. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry, despite my best efforts. He makes me proud. He embarrasses me. I love him dearly, though there really are times when I don't like him much.
More than anything, I hope I have done right by him. I hope I have been the momma he needed when he was small, and the momma he needs now. Sometimes I see him do things, or hear him say things that just make me cringe, and I wonder if I have failed in some way. Those are the days I want to go back in time and hold him in my arms again--but then I remember that he was never much of a snuggler, and I chuckle at the memory. He always was a great hugger, though, and still is, when I ask.
Happy birthday, Henry Lou. I love you. So very much.
Friday, June 8, 2012
beginnings and endings...
Tomorrow is graduation for our oldest son. It's hard to believe it has been long enough since.......well, since ANYTHING for this to be the eve of such a special, wonderful, and, to be honest, emotional day. Although life is busy right now, I have found myself thinking of what this particular graduation means to me and to our family: he will be going off to college, and there will be one less person in the house, but he will always be here in so many ways. I look forward to the changes and challenges more than anything, as I have since the beginning of this adventure called parenthood. I often think of other milestones when a friend or relative experiences one, but graduations evoke a special set of memories....
My brother's college graduation, when we drove all the way to Ohio and met his friends for the first time. And how HUGE the arena at the University seemed to me. I had never seen anything that big in my life!
My own eighth grade graduation--the first time I picked out a "stylish" dress which, along with my sister's high heeled sandals, made me feel like a million bucks! Our class planned the entire ceremony, and learned all the words to The Carpenters' "We've only just begun". Along with my classmates, I felt so grown up, so special, and so very excited to move forward. Somewhere in my drawer, I have the picture Dad took when I got my diploma. That photo, in my mind's eye, is how I picture that night.
Horseheads High School graduation: sitting in the sun, in alphabetical order on the football field, as one of the few white robes (for girls) in my row, and one of even fewer stoles (for honors) and actually wondering if my parents would know which one was me from the back. (Silly me!! At the time I did not know that we, as parents, KNOW our kids when we see them!) I got an award that day that I wasn't expecting--a small scholarship award from the Business Department. I had taken a Marketing class--the only business class I took in high school--and joined DECA Club, where I competed in Manager Level challenges. I loved it! Being selected to receive the award was such a surprise! And after I received my diploma, Dad surprised me by being on the field, where he really wasn't supposed to be, but he was bursting with pride, and gave me one of his one-armed hugs that I loved so much.
My college graduation had a much different feel. I had been sick and out of school for three months, so I had fallen out of the loop with some of my friends. I was able to go through the ceremony, but I still had classes to take. The College had just gotten accreditation as a University, so we were granted University diplomas, which some of us felt were not deserved--we had not studied at the "University." We were young and cocky, and I was somewhat aloof. Most of my friends were going to continue their studies, but I was going to take "a year or two" off after my Associate's degree. I don't remember much of that day because I didn't care as much. That makes me sad.
But then there was my sister's graduation, when Grammy took a whole pineapple from the centerpiece of one of the buffet tables and stuck it in her purse! We tried telling her that it was a decoration, but she proclaimed that it was on the table with the food we were supposed to take, so it was fair game--and besides, if she did not take it, they would only throw it away! To this day, we threaten each other that we want to "pull a Grammy" when we see centerpieces that are not just floral!
And my husband's graduation, which was the first party I planned on my own. His ceremony was beautiful, and hearing his name announced gave me goose bumps. As a gift, I had gotten him a beautiful leather briefcase. For a long time, he used it, and every time I saw him carry it, I thought about him standing in the sunshine in his cap and gown. (I try to forget the stitches he ended up with, causing him to miss the end of his own graduation party, but I remind him that everyone else had a really good time, although they missed him terribly!)
When I earned my Bachelor's degree, I had to miss the ceremony because it was hours away, and was the same day as our son's Confirmation. That was quite an emotional time, as these were the first such events that Dad was not here for, and that leads me to tomorrow....
At odd times this past week, I've found myself remembering that Dad loved life events: big birthdays, weddings, reunions, graduations, and he would have had just the right thing to say to Jonathan to make him laugh and know that Grampa was so very proud of him. I hope that I can find the words tomorrow. I hope that he will listen with his heart, and with his eyes, because I don't know if the words will come to his ears from my lips.
But with all my heart, I pray that he knows that I love him, I am proud of him, and I am so excited for his future.
My brother's college graduation, when we drove all the way to Ohio and met his friends for the first time. And how HUGE the arena at the University seemed to me. I had never seen anything that big in my life!
My own eighth grade graduation--the first time I picked out a "stylish" dress which, along with my sister's high heeled sandals, made me feel like a million bucks! Our class planned the entire ceremony, and learned all the words to The Carpenters' "We've only just begun". Along with my classmates, I felt so grown up, so special, and so very excited to move forward. Somewhere in my drawer, I have the picture Dad took when I got my diploma. That photo, in my mind's eye, is how I picture that night.
Horseheads High School graduation: sitting in the sun, in alphabetical order on the football field, as one of the few white robes (for girls) in my row, and one of even fewer stoles (for honors) and actually wondering if my parents would know which one was me from the back. (Silly me!! At the time I did not know that we, as parents, KNOW our kids when we see them!) I got an award that day that I wasn't expecting--a small scholarship award from the Business Department. I had taken a Marketing class--the only business class I took in high school--and joined DECA Club, where I competed in Manager Level challenges. I loved it! Being selected to receive the award was such a surprise! And after I received my diploma, Dad surprised me by being on the field, where he really wasn't supposed to be, but he was bursting with pride, and gave me one of his one-armed hugs that I loved so much.
My college graduation had a much different feel. I had been sick and out of school for three months, so I had fallen out of the loop with some of my friends. I was able to go through the ceremony, but I still had classes to take. The College had just gotten accreditation as a University, so we were granted University diplomas, which some of us felt were not deserved--we had not studied at the "University." We were young and cocky, and I was somewhat aloof. Most of my friends were going to continue their studies, but I was going to take "a year or two" off after my Associate's degree. I don't remember much of that day because I didn't care as much. That makes me sad.
But then there was my sister's graduation, when Grammy took a whole pineapple from the centerpiece of one of the buffet tables and stuck it in her purse! We tried telling her that it was a decoration, but she proclaimed that it was on the table with the food we were supposed to take, so it was fair game--and besides, if she did not take it, they would only throw it away! To this day, we threaten each other that we want to "pull a Grammy" when we see centerpieces that are not just floral!
And my husband's graduation, which was the first party I planned on my own. His ceremony was beautiful, and hearing his name announced gave me goose bumps. As a gift, I had gotten him a beautiful leather briefcase. For a long time, he used it, and every time I saw him carry it, I thought about him standing in the sunshine in his cap and gown. (I try to forget the stitches he ended up with, causing him to miss the end of his own graduation party, but I remind him that everyone else had a really good time, although they missed him terribly!)
When I earned my Bachelor's degree, I had to miss the ceremony because it was hours away, and was the same day as our son's Confirmation. That was quite an emotional time, as these were the first such events that Dad was not here for, and that leads me to tomorrow....
At odd times this past week, I've found myself remembering that Dad loved life events: big birthdays, weddings, reunions, graduations, and he would have had just the right thing to say to Jonathan to make him laugh and know that Grampa was so very proud of him. I hope that I can find the words tomorrow. I hope that he will listen with his heart, and with his eyes, because I don't know if the words will come to his ears from my lips.
But with all my heart, I pray that he knows that I love him, I am proud of him, and I am so excited for his future.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
speed post
Life's been crazy, with no time to sit, and now there are cookies in the oven. The words need to get out somehow, so a stream of consciousness list is what we get. Here goes.....
This kind of cool weather has me in heaven, although it is kind of a drag when working at a pool.
Don't do something stupid because others do. It only makes you look stupid.
I'm proud when I find out my kid did not do something stupid.
A bully is a bully, no matter how popular s/he happens to be.
Don't get on the good side of the bullies just to stay out of their way. They will still feed on you.
Weren't we just pregnant together???
I can't believe it's over!/Thank God it's over!!
Oh, how I miss those days when I could do something stupid and say it was because someone else was going to do it, too. So I looked stupid once in a while.....at least it was never something STUPID!!
I am your mother.
Bullies exist in every age group. I was bullied as a kid. I was bullied in college. I have been bullied as an adult. I've stood up to bullies more as I've gotten older, but they still make me cry. (should probably go on a Post Secret postcard, but there you have it.)
I am not your mother. Leave me out of it.
My boys make me so proud. Each and every day, and I wish I could make them really understand that.
Time's up.
This kind of cool weather has me in heaven, although it is kind of a drag when working at a pool.
Don't do something stupid because others do. It only makes you look stupid.
I'm proud when I find out my kid did not do something stupid.
A bully is a bully, no matter how popular s/he happens to be.
Don't get on the good side of the bullies just to stay out of their way. They will still feed on you.
Weren't we just pregnant together???
I can't believe it's over!/Thank God it's over!!
Oh, how I miss those days when I could do something stupid and say it was because someone else was going to do it, too. So I looked stupid once in a while.....at least it was never something STUPID!!
I am your mother.
Bullies exist in every age group. I was bullied as a kid. I was bullied in college. I have been bullied as an adult. I've stood up to bullies more as I've gotten older, but they still make me cry. (should probably go on a Post Secret postcard, but there you have it.)
I am not your mother. Leave me out of it.
My boys make me so proud. Each and every day, and I wish I could make them really understand that.
Time's up.
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