Nothing like a walk on a gorgeous day…
Posted: May 14, 2012 Filed under: family, travel 4 Comments »
Nothing like a walk on a gorgeous day
Taking pictures
With my #1 son in Brooklyn
On the way to a college visit
After an amazing breakfast
I love my life
Something to remember me by.
Posted: April 28, 2012 Filed under: family, lessons, love, memories 5 Comments »
Several years ago (and I have blocked out how many years ago it was), my dad was sick. He had cancer. Hodgkins.
We lived 1200 miles away and it was hard. Very hard. I hated knowing I wasn’t there to support him through chemo. I talked to my mom most days. And I knew he was getting through with a great attitude. But it wasn’t like being there. Not at all.
When I came east to see him, I was truly surprised by how rough it was on him. He is the toughest guy I know. Not kidding. But even he was getting beaten down.
Not that he’d let on.
So on one of the visits, he gave me some cash. He asked that I buy something to remember him by. In case.
In case.
Deep breath.
He said he’d have preferred to have gotten me something but he didn’t have the energy.
So when I saw these three delicate bands – complete with engraving and lovely details – I bought them. With the cash. And I wore them on my right hand as a reminder.
My dad recovered fully. I know! How lucky were we? But since then, he’s had another run-in with cancer and triple bypass surgery. But he’s doing great and is living life with a great attitude.
As always.
I don’t wear these rings every day anymore. But I do wear them. And when I do, I take a deep breath and feel great appreciation for having my father around.
We’ve lived close by since 1999. August. And I’m thankful for the time I get to spend with my parents. And my in-laws. And the rest of my family. Because you know what? Nothing matters more.
Nothing.
So today, when I put on the set of rings, I realized how grateful I am. Because you know what? It’s so easy to forget. So easy to get caught up in the daily grind. So easy to get busy. So easy to lose track.
But nothing matters more to me than my family.
I couldn’t be more thrilled that I didn’t need those rings to remember my father by for all these years because I get to see him all the time. And he’s healthy. But they’ll always be a reminder of how fragile life is.
What a difference 366 days make.
Posted: March 28, 2012 Filed under: family, friends, lessons, love, memories 8 Comments »
Exactly one year ago today, I had an anterior cervical discectomy and fusion. I had two discs removed and replaced with cadaver discs (I’ve always liked vintage) and then they were fused to an existing disc with titanium. Now, can you say that you have titanium in your neck? I didn’t think so.
Did you know titanium has the atomic number 22? And it’s low density and strong, lustrous and corrosion-resistant? You have no idea how glad I am that the metal in my neck is corrosion-resistant. I mean, really. Just thinking about internal corrosion is disturbing.
So it’s been a year.
At one week, I thought I’d never make it. It truly sucked. My friends and family were great. Did you see all those flowers? I had yummy meals, pedicures, trashy magazines, Godiva chocolates, and lots of visitors. But that first week was long. Maybe the longest week ever.
At a month after surgery, I cried. Not a little, either. While probably not realistic, I thought I’d be well on the way to my normal, happy self at a month. THIRTY DAYS. That’s a lot, right? My mobility was greatly improved but I was not okay. I was moody and uncomfortable and frustrated.
Did I mention that I cried? True story.
At my three month check, the doc said that nine months was a big turning point. What? Six more months to the big turning point? With new resolve, I refocused my workout and recovery strategy and started making real progress and getting stronger. (Thanks, Cyrus. Not that you read blogs.)
I am pretty sure you don’t want to read about every setback and every step forward. And I’m not even sure I remember them all.
But I can tell you that I can do all sorts of regular things that I couldn’t do before the surgery. Like pass a plate at the dinner table. Fold the sheets. Dry my hair. Put the groceries in the trunk.
And now, at one-year post surgery, I can do bicep curls, tricep push-backs, and skull crushers. I can do 10 push-ups and even though I could do 100 at a time a few years back, 10 seems like a great accomplishment to me now. I’ll get to 100 again. Mark my words.
I could say how grateful I am for the people who helped me through this but I’d probably cry. You know who you are. (sniff, sniff)
A year. I can’t believe it’s been a year.
Next week, maybe I can do 15 push ups.
Higher education.
Posted: March 5, 2012 Filed under: family, kids, lessons, memories, parenting 3 Comments »{note: I deleted the post by mistake & sadly it took away all the lovely comments. I promise you I read them! Yikes. Sorry}
It’s really never been a question of whether our kids would go to college, but rather where they’d go. (I’ll add that Andrew and I would be open-minded about non-college options or a gap year.) But in general, college has always been on the table as the next step after high school.
It seemed so far away.
So unfathomable.
So impossible.
And yet, Davis has been working on his list of colleges to consider. We’ve visited a couple already and plan to visit more. He’s taken the ACTs and will take the SATs in a week or so.
Rewind to when he had rosy cheeks and freckles. (see above!)
He sat up on his bed – high up on the top bunk – and looked at me very seriously.
“Mom, when I go to college, I want to stay here and live with you. Maybe I’ll go to Johns Hopkins.”
And though it was unbearable to consider that he’d ever leave, I told him that while living home during college was a fine option, it was likely he’d change his mind when he was 16 or 17. And that for a lot of kids, going to college away from their parents is a big part of the college experience. Part of growing up.
Still, he insisted he’d never leave me. He loved me way too much.
The schools that he’ll be applying to are varied and wonderful. None is a commuter school for us. And honestly? I think that’s great for him – the right choice. I know he’ll be great on his own.
But there’s that little piece of me that wants to cry and remind him that he promised he’d never leave.
Before Facebook.
Posted: February 29, 2012 Filed under: family, memories Leave a comment »I read a lot about sharing and over-sharing these days. Yes, we need to be mindful of privacy. And yes, we need to be mindful of the long-term effects of having our information out there.
But, although the scope is clearly very different, this is not a new phenomenon. In fact, during some brief research regarding my grandmother, Betsy, I came across some tidbits about my grandfather, Arthur, who died on January 1, 1957.
My favorite “post” is this one from August 8, 1909 edition of The Baltimore Sun. My grandfather went on a straw ride through the park. His brother, Martin, was there too. You know they would’ve posted pix on Facebook. Right? Evidently neither brother was invited to the surprise birthday party for Ruth or Mary. (Can you say unfriend?) And just wondering, do you think Mr. Baum chose to recite poetry or was coerced? Wonder if he was happy it was in The Sun or not?
Then, there’s this one from … January 29, 1922. My single grandfather probably had a blast at this wedding. Don’t you think? Can’t imagine what they’d have posted. Drunk pix? Sounds like quite the party.
And later, now married to my grandmother, the duo attended the graduation of their nephew, Millard. Arthur’s mother and Sadie Ullman (maybe a great-aunt?) were there, too. Big news. June 8, 1930. Maybe even tweet-worthy. Ha! (I admit getting all excited that I am related to Ullmans until I realized that our friends spell their name with one L. Oh well. I’m sure the two-L folks are nice, too.)
I’m pretty darn sure that my grandfather didn’t think that someone in 2012 would be reading newspaper articles about his social life circa 1909-1930. But I am. And now, so are you.
Yellowed love.
Posted: February 13, 2012 Filed under: family, love Leave a comment »
I never met my grandfather. He died January 1, 1958 leaving my grandmother a very young widow.
I don’t know why I absolutely love this 1.5″ plastic shamrock, marked on the back Chevrolet/Essex, MD. He wrote a note:
TO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD
and taped it with transparent tape, which is far from transparent all these years later.
Happy (almost) Valentine’s Day.
Entering his 9th decade.
Posted: January 20, 2012 Filed under: family 2 Comments »In 2006 and 2007 and 2011 I wrote about my dad on his birthday.
This year, as he enters his 9th decade, I just want to post the cake I made for him. 
Happy Birthday, Dad.
I’m a little ashamed.
Posted: January 19, 2012 Filed under: family, memories 2 Comments »I should have been glad to see her. I should have been friendly.
I should have said hello.
But I didn’t.
I should have asked how she’d been. I should have told her she looks so much like her mother did.
But I didn’t.
She couldn’t see me. But I could see her. It’s always been that way. And I let it stay that way today.
I’m not proud.
But I just couldn’t bring myself back to look into the past. Or rather, I chose not to.
Why?
Posted: January 12, 2012 Filed under: family, parenting, the boys 2 Comments »
photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/doctor-a
I was checking email. Voicemail. After all, it was during work hours and, though I hadn’t stopped for lunch, I was feeling guilty for taking the half hour to attend to the boys’ dental needs.
I heard the dad say, “I have too much work to do.”
And then, the girl’s whisper stopped me in my tracks.
Why don’t you just tell them, “no?”
And then, without even looking up, he answered. His response was like a punch in the stomach. “I’m responsible for everything. You just don’t understand.”
And I think he was right. She didn’t. She sat, staring ahead. Holding back tears.
I am not going to sit here (while my kids want my attention) and say that I won’t ignore them, work too hard, take on too much.
I probably will.
But this will stick with me. And I’ll keep working on being more present and more available.
Independence is the goal, right?
Posted: January 6, 2012 Filed under: family, kids, parenting 3 Comments »
Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/shilders
As parents, Andrew and my primary goals have been to raise our boys to be independent, free-thinking, productive, and happy. That has always been our dream.
Always.
But maybe I was hasty.
I’d like to revise my wish to independent, free-thinking, productive, and happy as long as they agree with me.
Having teenagers is harder than I thought it’d be.
