My Refuge

We all need a place to go when things in our lives aren't exactly right - or maybe just to steal away for a couple of hours to escape the reality of our own world. Today it hit me like a ton of bricks - my refuge is the dog park! I've been taking Luke every now and then, he has so much fun there and gets a great workout. What I didn't realize was how much I enjoyed going myself. Dogs and their owners enclosed in a very large fenced in area with benches, wood chips, trees, some dog toys and water bowls,tunnels to run through; what more do you need for an afternoon frolic. While he runs around like a frantic lunatic, chasing this, that and every dog in sight, I quietly sit on the bench inhaling the crisp cool air of late, soaking up the late September sun, lost in thoughts of everything and then nothing. Sitting there today I forgot that last night I clogged the garbage disposal. I forgot that I'm in three Science classes this year, and I hate Science. I forgot, for just a few minutes, how much I am missing Jamey and how empty our home and my heart feels without him. I forgot how tired I feel this week, just not myself, and how drawn my face looks. And oh yeah, I guess I also forgot how I should really be home doing a ton of housework instead of sitting here at the dog park. Yes, these things and more - they just don't matter for at least a little while.

I'm not sure how long you can keep going to the dog park. Does it close in the winter? Or do the dogs run around in the snow? I imagine that would be great fun to be all bundled up - I would still go, but will anyone else be bringing their dogs?? What about when we turn the clocks back and it's pitch black at 5:00 o'clock? I guess we'll have to go right after school when that happens.
Oh well, I'll just take it one day at a time. The important thing here is to have a safe place to go and hide from everything for a while. For now it's the dog park for me. Hmmm, the library could also work but I can't take Luke . . .

It's Official

As of Saturday, Jamey is a college student. Today he actually started classes, I wonder how that went. I'll call him later, I don't want him to feel like I'm stalking him!!

Anyway, Saturday couldn't have gone smoother. Jamey lucked out getting a first floor room. His roommate seems really nice, and their room looks cozy and comfortable. Not big of course, but I think big enough. I thought we were bringing too much stuff, but everything seemed to fit in perfectly with a little room to spare. It was an absolutely beautiful day to move in - the school had a big barbecue lunch for the families on the lawn with music. I once again felt confident about this choice for Jamey. It just seems perfect for him.

You might be wondering why I'm not writing all kinds of tear-jerk anecdotes right now. Don't get me wrong, I am feeling the loss of him, and feeling it big-time. I still can't go into his room, but that's okay. I'll eventually make it in there for my usual crying jag, but not yet. Yes, I did openly cry when I kissed him goodbye. And I found it extremely hard to let go of him, and he kind of just let me hang onto him, hugging me just as hard back. The thing is, he looked so excited and happy. After years of helping move his siblings in and out of college, year after year, it's finally his turn. It's his turn to grow up; his turn to make new friends, his turn to shine. Through my own pain of missing him and watching him move on and away, I know this. And I really am happy for him, so happy for him, I can't wait to hear all of his stories (at least the ones he'll share) this now-college son of mine. And I am already counting the days to parent's weekend.

I don't care how old he is, or where he lives, he'll always be my baby. That's the way it is, my sweet baby James.

THE Last Night . . .

Til we bring Jamey to college and I am a wreck. Cool collected Debbie (questionable on any given day) does not exist. She has been replaced with frantic momaholic Debbie, crying, running around doing all kinds of things to get ready, strolling down memory lane, crying again. The anxiety level is epic. I'm pretty good at holding it together in front of Jamey; I don't want to upset him.

We had a really nice last dinner. Jamey's favorite: chicken parm with spaghetti, salad, and brocoli. His girlfriend Kirsten ate over too; and I bursted out crying while saying goodbye to her. You not only miss your own kid; you also miss their girlfriend and friends in general hanging out at your house. Yes, it's gonna be mighty quiet around here.

I think we're bringing too much stuff. After getting everything finally packed tonight, I feel like it's just too much to start off. I better get up extra early and see if I can consolidate a little.

I've got to hold it somewhat together tomorrow. I don't want to stress Jamey out. How am I ever gonna do this? THIS IS MY BABY!!!!! Somebody help me please . . .

2 Days and counting . . .

Til Jamey goes to college. Yesterday was another good mommy and me day for us. I didn't have to work, so we basically spent the day picking out clothes to pack, organizing them, doing laundry as necessary, etc. We looked through pictures taken this summer and had some prints made. I plan on putting together a small album for him to take with him, JUST IN CASE he is missing all of us. I ran the gamut of emotions yesterday; laughing, tearing up (not that he could see, don't want to upset him), worrying, feeling anxious, and then at the end of the day just loving the hell out of this baby boy of mine. I mean, its gottne so bad at one point during the day while sitting on the floor of his bedroom I actually teared up lookiing at the hairs on his legs!!! Crazy, I know, but understand: THIS IS MY BABY!!!

Anyway, we topped off the night by meeting our friends Peggy, my friend, and mother of Jeffrey, Jamey's friend. Through the years, since kindergarten, the four of us have had many many adventures together. It was only fitting that we should have this 'last supper' together, the four of us. We went to one of our favorite pizza restaurants where the pizza crust is paper thin and it comes out of the oven piping hot and bubbly. The conversation was lively, and every now and again I would just glance over to Peggy, reading the anxiety in her face and measuring it with my own, - she was taking Jeffrey to Maryland today to move him in on Friday. Jeffrey is her baby too - she is feeling much the same way as me. We have mommed them for so long, and I mean mommed them! We spoke for a few minutes on this subject, and I'm sure Peggy and I will revisit it time and time again once these boys are gone.

Today as I was driving home thinking about college AGAIN, I was wondering: whose idea was it anyway that kids should go away? Not mine, that's for sure. Wish me luck . . .

4 Days and Counting . . .

til Jamey goes off to college. What a tough week for both him and I. Sunday was a great mommy and me day though. We pursued a spur of the moment idea to go up to Woodbury Commons Outlets and do some pre-college shopping. The main reason for going was to get him some kind of all purpose, all weather jacket which he could layer over his North Face fleece in the dead of Winter. We got the jacket and proceeded on to the Nike outlet, Jamey's ultimate favorite. We were in there for quite a while; when we were ready to leave, of course, unexpectedly, the skies opened up to a torrential downpour. We were both in shorts and t-shirts, with no other cover of any kind. Except for Jamey's all weather jacket. Needless to say, he wouldn't put it on, guess he wanted to keep it fresh for school (something I would do also). After waiting for as long as we both had the patience for, we decided to make a run for it. Our car was quite a distance away from where we were; we knew we were going to get soaked to the skin. And we did; what a sight we were! Mother and Son running in the rain, dodging huge puddles, water literally running down our faces. It was refreshingly fun, and a special memory in the making for us, although I didn't even realize it at the time. It didn't hit me til much later on at home. Yes, I'll definitely freeze that moment in my bottomless pit of a child-memory bank. And yes, in the days weeks and months to come, I'll recall it with longing for my college son.
Last night I fell asleep at about 10:30 but woke up an hour later to brush my teeth and get a drink of water. Once I climbed bck into bed, I couldn't go back to sleep, which is so unusual for me. I am a great sleeper, but this was not to be last night. I tossed and turned, worrying about Jamey, worrying about me without him, just thinking and worrying in a vicious cycle of non-sleep. I guess I finally drifted off about 2:00am; but even then, did not sleep in my usual rock-sytle; it was very light and broken, a really crappy night's sleep. I know in my heart that he'll be fine. And I guess I will too, eventually. This is just one really tough week. Stay tuned.

Countdown is On . . .

A week from tomorrow we take Jamey to college. Yikes, how did this happen? I am freaking out; how can my baby be going to college?

I think about it every day even before my eyes are open. It's the last thing I think about before drifting off to sleep. I know I'm not alone; I've spoken to several moms who are also loosing their babies to college this year. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones cause at least Charles is back home for a while. Momming him should take up some time and keep me busy.

It's just that I'm worrying about Jamey being there. I'm worried about me here without him. I'm so used to having him around; and with four years age difference between him and Charles; it's been only him home for four years (give or take some time that the girls were home). I guess it's safe to say I'm spending a good deal of time just plain worrying. And the crying I'll be doing; you can bet your bottom dollar there will be plenty of that. I just hope I can hold it together at least til I get in the car after we drop him off.

Ughhh - whose idea was it anyway for kids to go away to college without their moms????

High Alert - Momaholic Style

It's me. I'm on high alert, kid alert, right now for two reasons and their names are Charles and James. First, Charles is flying to Paris today to play basketball with his college team. I didn't realize it until today that today is Friday the 13th. I don't consider myself to be a superstitious person by nature; however, flying on Friday the 13th, just in case, would not be a choice I would make. He didn't happen to put the two together until today either. Needless to say, he left with my rosary beads in tow - just in case he needs them. I'm happy for him and all the experiences he'll have, but nervous all the same. The momaholic in me just doesn't feel comfortable when my kids are so far away, can't help it.

Second reason for high distress is that I also woke with the realization that two weeks from tomorrow we will be moving Jamey into college for the first time. YIKES!! I am not ready for this at all mentally. I'm holding it in too, which is even worse. I hope I can hold it somewhat together for his sake, and that of the rest of the family. This could prove to be a very long two weeks. I'll keep you posted.

Oh God, it's 9:25 and Charles takes off in 5 minutes!! I know that I won't get much sleep, that goes without saying. I'll just say a quick prayer for a safe flight - Godspeed my sweet Charles! And have a good time. Tear up Paris a little for me . . .

!!! Think Twice Before Returning!!!

I bought a cute shirt about a month ago. Ruffled tiers of different fabric, but made out of t-shirt knit. The kind you could wear with jeans or dress it up. I wasn't sure whether to keep it or return it, and decided on the latter. It was in my car, and Rachele happened to be home and we were going to that store. When I showed her what was in the bag, she advised me not to return it, telling me how cute she thought it was. I guess you all know by now that nine times out of ten, I listen to Rachele (classic who's the mother and who's the daughter role reversal). Needless to say, I kept it.

About a week later, our neighbors were having a little Saturday night get-together. I thought the shirt would look cute with cropped white jeans that I salvaged from Kristin's throw-out pile (never worn) that happened to fit me really well. Finishing off the outfit were flat sparkle sandals (another Rachele-advised purchase). I really liked the way all the pieces came together and felt stylish and very comfortable.

I brought the outfit on our beach vacation thinking I might like to wear it again. Well, to make a long story short, I wore it to the parents/sisters dinner, and again to the dinner with our friends. It doesn't end here. I also wore it that Saturday night to Christine's party. Did I really wear the exact same thing three times in one week, and the same thing one week prior? Yessiree, I sure did. And I loved it all four times! It did not disappoint, in fact I would wear it again tomorrow if an event presented itself.

Moral of the story of course ladies is - think twice before you return something you originally liked enough to purchase. Oh, and yes, Rachele, you were right again!

Birthday Girl

!Happy Birthday Sugar! This past Saturday, the day we got home from the beach, was Christine's birthday, a special birthday, and I was thrilled to be able to see her. Usually we are on vacation on her birthday, but this year it just worked out.

Christine, you are my special beauty girl. You look absolutely fabulous, a good ten years younger than you are, and I'm not just saying it! Keep up the good work - Love, Plum

The Beach

Who doesn't love the beach? We just got back from a week at LBI - Jersey Shore, and it was such a great vacation. Friends of ours are also there, and two of my sisters also rent a house for the week. All the cousins come, and family friends, it's just one big party. And then there's the beach. It's magical, no matter which beach you happen to be at. It's a force of nature too mystical, too powerful to understand. It's mesmerizing, isn't it?

Anyway, this year my parents came and stayed at our beach house. It was so much fun having them. It brought me back to many years ago when they rented a beach house every year in Ocean Beach. I kind of felt like a little kid again. I hope they can come next year too. The week goes by so quickly, and with so many people there with us, it's hard to do everything that you'd like to do while you're there. This year, though, I made sure I did the important things.

The first important thing was making sure my parents came. They also managed to have a good time, and relax a little too. This made me really happy.

Next was to make sure I spent some alone time with my friend Dar. When we're home, it's hard to see each other because of our work schedules. (Have to try a little harder with this.) Anyway, we had a nice heart-to-heart over a morning cup of coffee. An hour very well-spent.

Had to go to Cafe Bacio, a really cool and delicious dessert-only place. I had no trouble at all polishing off a giant marshmellow chocolate cupcake. I even went back later in the week for a take-out and a frozen hot-chocolate! Yummy.

Important to take my parents out to dinner with my sisters. Delicious Italian food surrounded by family, a great night. So glad we went.

Long overdue, a dinner with our friends Janet and Jeff. Another delicious meal, and then back to their gorgeous house where the kids were partying up a storm, really having a good time, as were we. The stuff memories are made of.

The rest of the week was comprised of bike riding with Kristin, walking with Rach and my Mom, cooking, shopping, and spending lots of time on the beach.

Were there some things that I didn't get to do? Sure, I wish I could have stayed just a couple of days longer. But then again, there's always next year.

MIA

Hey remember me? Seems like just yesterday that I was apologizing for not blogging for a while. Here I go again. I guess I could offer up a million and one excuses, none of them really valid, but here goes.
Charles' computer was broken, so he was busy using mine for all this time for business. Okay, so I could have used another computer, right? Yes, we've been busy too - family busy. But isn't everyone? A good blogger would be typing away about all the so-called busyness, wouldn't they? As always, my mind blogs away, every day, about tons of interesting ordinary occurences. It's just sitting down to type it all. I must make more of an effort. And I will. I promise.

A Month Has Gone By?

Sorry - wasn't that I didn't have any thoughts, to the contrary some of my thoughts would have blown you away, maybe not in a good way. Did you ever have a day or week or month of such busy-ness, such chaos and lunacy, that you thought maybe you'd loose it? This was how I rolled this past month. Don't get me wrong, some really nice events presented themselves, including Charles' graduation, Jamey's prom, etc. It just seemed that each important event flowed into the next. Hard to catch my breath. Then of course Sal and Charles had to go on their manly-man adventure trip to California. That totally put me over the edge. It took weeks to shop for all the elaborate 'real cowboy' attire they needed, not to mention lots of remedies and specific toiletries. Next on the list, Luke had gotten a hot-spot on his beautiful little puppy face and I had to take him to the vet to get 'coned' up. This was my first experience with the dog cone. What a horrible (but necessary) invention. It took me a few days to find a kinder gentler alternative, after visiting every pet store within 20 miles of my house, I found one. It's called the 'Cozy Cone', and it's a padded fabric velcro cone shaped device. I gladly plunked down the forty dollars, and home I went. Luke actually likes it, and it's easy to take on and off for walks, so it worked out. Anyway, these are probably very normal things to most people, and yes, even to me they are. But at this particular time, with everything happening at once and working so much and taking care of everyone, it was just a lot. I'd find myself just driving to the next errand and tearing up for everything and really nothing. Most of the time I like to think of myself as everyone's rock, but during this particular time, I was no one's rock, not even my own.

I don't mean to be overly dramatic here. I just wanted to share because I think many of you have probably been a little fragile at least once if not more during different stages of your life. Maybe you just brought home your first child, and all of a sudden you have this baby, but you're not entirely sure what you're supposed to do when they won't latch on to your breast, or maybe they just won't stop crying. Maybe your two year old woke up in the middle of the night screaming with an ear infection and you can't take him to the doctor until morning. Or maybe it's a particular fight or bouts of fighting with your husband that drive you to the edge? Point is, any one thing or series of small things consecutively can cause you to crack just a little. The important thing to know here is that it's normal, and probably won't be the last time it happens. What's more important is knowing you're gonna snap out of it, and probably - just maybe - be that much stronger for it.

Lost - Forever!

Do you watch the TV show "Lost"? If you do, you'll know where I'm coming from. If not, you missed a great six years of TV.

This show is unlike any I've ever watched, and I watch a lot, I love TV. There I said it. TV is my guilty pleasure, my escape from reality. After a particularly tiring day, nothing soothes my soul like some mindless juicy TV show. "Lost", however, was not mindless. Anything but. You really had to pay attention - even so, it still kept you guessing, every single episode. Most of the time, you never saw 'it' coming. Flashbacks, flash forwards, side time . . . so much going on, you could think about each episode for days after it aired.

Last night was the finale forever. I watched from 7:00 pm to 11:30 pm, mesmerized. It was all that I hoped it would be and more. No, every question was not answered, but most were. I can't stop thinking about it. I won't ruin it for you if you haven't watched, but I do suggest you buy or rent seasons 1-5 and get into it. I promise - you will not be disappointed. Then we'll chat.

Oil Spill - My Face

Okay, I'm not sure what's going on inside my body. Call it a hormonal surge or maybe I'm just ingesting too much olive oil, but I woke up with three pimples on my face. Not one, or two, but three. My initial reaction was that of being horrified. On later contemplation (and the use of some really good cover-up) I saw the situation in a new light. Hey, any woman producing that kind of oil can't be so old. Oil is youth. Pimples are young. If I can pop three in a day, that oil must be filling in some of those fine lines too! Point is ladies, I'm looking at pimples in a whole new light. In fact, I'm celebrating them.

Reflections on Mother's Day

Although Mother's Day was a couple of weeks ago already, this momaholic would be quite remiss if she didn't have something to say about this 'dream' holiday. This is how mine went.

Sunday. Mother's Day. Woke up at 7:00 am (my choice), made some fresh coffee and decided to go to 10:30 mass (got to get that special Mother's Day Blessing - no really, there is one). While sipping my coffee, I was greeted by my handyman husband who blew in from the backyard, acid-washing our drained cement pool, a project so monumental you can't even get the pool campanies over to do it at this time of year. My husband's greeting was "Happy Mother's Day - don't expect to see me today." Okay, picture this delivered by a husband wearing rubber boots to his knees, rubber gloves, a yellow ski jacket and a gas mask. Yes, a real gas mask. You get the picture. Now, where were we? Church. Yes, I did get the Mother's Day Blessing. Now that's bang for the buck.

Back at the house. My girls had the baking and cooking well under way. Luke needed exercise, but who had the time to take him for a walk? The kitchen was a hot mess. My Mother's Day was unraveling before my eyes. My girls knew it, and to the rescue, presented me with my gift. A gorgeous straw tote/purse with gold leather trim. A beautiful extravagant gift that I would never have splurged on for myself. I knew deep down I probably wouldn't use it. As lovely as it was, it was just too big for me. Girls, I hope you weren't insulted, I love it but it's just not me. My boys came in each holding a bunch of hydrangea; one white, one blue. Very impressed that they remembered its my favorite flower. Very sweet.

The rest of the day turned out nice, saw my Mother, Father all my sisters and their families. Came home, put on my PJ's and fell into a comatose sleep.

In retrospect, maybe my Mother's Day didn't have all the bells and whistles. I'm not complaining, just matter of fact. It wasn't the best one, but not the worst one either. One thing I know for sure though is that I am one lucky mom. I have great kids, and they each wrote a heartfelt note to me in their cards that I will treasure forever. Having them home with me and having my own Mom, is really all it takes to make a Mother's Day for me. Rachele, Kristin, Charles and Jamey, thanks for making me a mom - love you tons. Love you too Mom. XOXO

With Child

Three women I work with at school are pregnant. Jess is due in June with her first; it's a boy. Michelle is due after the summer with her second, she has a little boy, Mikey, and she is having another boy. Mary is due the end of October with twins; her first and second. She finds out the sex on Tuesday (nowadays, it seems everyone finds out what they're having). It's so much fun sharing these pregnancies with them; it brings back so many great memories. I loved being pregnant, all four times.

The wonder of your first pregnancy is hard to put into words. Not only is your body changing in so many ways (some good, some you could do without), but just the unbelievable fact that you have a living human being growing inside you is crazy. In the beginning it's really hard to believe. You just kind of feel fat. Then, the first time you feel that baby move inside you, all of a sudden you become connected. As the baby grows and gets bigger and stronger, you can't wait to meet this little stranger that's taking over your body. You can't wait to hold him/her and just love him/her up. Okay so at the end you get a little tired. Perfectly understandable. I think it's your body's way of getting you reaady for how tired you'll be after giving birth and bringing home the baby. Don't worry, this too shall pass.

As I watch these three women - friends of mine go through the stages of their pregnancies, I am reminded of my own. The memories are vivid and real, and truly, giving birth to my children is the greatest accomplishment of my life. Each one a marvel, each one precious and special and different. Enjoy every minute of being pregnant - like everything good in life, it will go by so fast. And then before you know it - time for another!

The Run

A couple of weeks ago, Rachele participated in a half marathon in Central Park hosted by Kristin Davis and More Magazine. We were on our way to the city at 7 am, picked up Kristin, and preceeded to Central Park where Rachele gave us pretty explicit directions on where to watch so we could see her loop twice. I have to say, I was filled with anticipation; it's not like Rachele is really a runner or anything. However, in typical Rachele-style she followed the training plan to a T since February. No doubt, she was ready - I wasn't sure that I was. It was about 50degrees and raining. Not just misting, raining. I was worried and could not wait to see her come around.

Here she comes!!! I think Kristin spotted her first. She looked great, confident, breathing without effort - like a real runner! She saw us and waved, smiling. I knew she was okay. I felt better, however, she still had plenty to go to make it to the 13.1 mile finish.

I have to say, watching a run is really emotional. Not only because my daughter was in it; no, it's more than that. Watching all these women, all different ages, varying sizes, some in great shape; some not so much. But it didn't matter - they were all running together, soaking wet, some so out of breath they were reduced to walking. Again, doesn't matter. Collectively they were running to stay healthy, to become fit - stronger, to reach a personal goal. Some ran with friends, some solo. Family and friends lined the sides of the run, cheering, clapping, showing support for these women, colorful umbrellas dotting Central Park, rivaling the beach umbrellas that turn the shore into a kaleidoscope in the summer.

Rachele came around again. Looking just slightly more tired than last time, but still running at quite a pace. Wow, the pride just swelled up inside me. I know how hard this run is for her, and yet here she is, doing it and doing it well. Before long she crossed the finish line. This we didn't see, but within minutes, she was running towards us with a big medal around her neck. Talk about the lump in my throat as I hugged this daughter of mine. A personal goal realized for her, and we got to see it. Her time was awesome; not only did she finish, she did it in 2 hours and a few seconds! Not only were Sal and Kristin and I there; some of her friends came out to watch her, waking up super early on Sunday when it was a perfect day to sleep in. (Thanks Kelly, Liz and Soph!) We drove the girls back to Rachele's apartment, she squeezed in the front with me. She was soaked to the bone and felt clammy to the touch. I tried to hug her warm, but I think she just needed a nice hot shower and a change of clothes.

We dropped them off, they were going to brunch to celebrate. I couldn't stop thinking about this run for days. Just when you think you really know your daughter, she just may surprise you.

Cute or Dumb?

I wished Rachele was home this morning while I was getting dressed for school. Whenever her or I or Kristin for that matter, are trying a unique, questionable outfit either for work or play, we march into each other's room and announce "cute or dumb?" (referring to the outfit, of course!) After careful deliberation, the person judging the outfit du jour will give the final verdict. 'Cute' of course means "Wow - you put together an amazing look"." 'Dumb' on the other hand, means "Holy crap! What were you thinking? You can't go out in public wearing that!"

I don't exactly remember when we started this little fashion game. All I know is I totally respect and completely admire both of my daughters' sense of style. No matter how cute a look I think I've put together, if I hear 'dumb' upon inspection, I will go change. (Wow - maybe it's a good thing the girls DON'T live here anymore, it might take me hours to get dressed!)

Today the outfit in question is a pale blue button down long sleeve shirt with small lighter blue flowers on it (think Liberty of London print). Over that, (here's the controversial part) I put a short sleeve fitted gray tee shirt with raised flowers on the left side of the scoop neck. To finish, light khakis and brown ballet flats.

Cute or dumb? If Rachele could see it, what would she think? Not sure - all I know is it's to late to change! And I actually like it - you know what? I pick cute.

Is Your Glass Half-Full or Half-Empty?

Mine is half-full. I can't help it, I live my life in eternal optimism. Seeing the bright side of every situation can be a good thing; however sometimes it does get in the way of reality.

It is my belief that you are born looking at that glass a certain way, and it is almost impossible to change. I, pretty much, throw caution to the wind in decision making. Not that I'm impulsive, I'm not. I just don't analyze things to the umph degree while making those decisions. Half-full people tend to live for today instead of agonizing over what's going to happen tomorrow or the next week or in the coming year. I choose to deal with situations as they are presented; I can't spend precious time weighing down my already full brain with the ever-dismal "what-ifs".

On the other side of the coin, of course, are the half-empty people. These tortured, careful souls tend to worry just a little too much about the things that may or may not happen. Although these concerns could definitely be valid, usually the worrying is way premature. When decision making is at hand, these half-empty people seem to get stuck on the 'what-ifs' or the 'what would we do if that ever happended' train of thought. They are generally conservative in nature, and taking any kind of risk is extremely hard if not impossible for this calculating kind.

I'm not trying to sway you one way or another. In fact, there is good and bad to each kind of 'glass' person, believe me. In my case, I sometimes wish I did worry just a little bit more about tomorrow. I can't speak for the half-empties, but if I could I would imagine that they wished they could be just slightly more impulsive. And you know, it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things which kind of person you are. Today for some reason, this whole thing just popped into my head. I guess you could say it was a random thought in my frantic head.

Just for fun though - next time you pour yourself a glass of water, look at it and ask yourself if it's half-full or half-empty.

It's an Uphill Battle, But I'm Not Ready to Raise the White Flag

I'm talking about the battle to stay young, to feel and look young. I don't mean crazy young, but just 'younger'. It's not easy; anyone anywhere around my age knows that. But ladies, we are not giving up; not raising and waving that white flag; not yet. Okay, so it does get even harder as the years go by, but each day we can make a difference in the way we look and feel. This week is spa week; and for the first time in probably twenty-five years, I had a facial. Rachele and I booked it a couple of weeks ago, and it was pure heaven. My skin absolutely glowed with no make-up of any kind! I was reminded to use sunscreen each and every day (which I don't do). It's not that I'm baking in the sun; no, I won't do that anymore. But just walking the dog, or running around, I really don't wear sunscreen. Maybe I should start. Let's face it ladies; my generation really knew how to 'soak up the sun'. I shudder to think of the slathering of baby oil, the album covers as sun-reflectors (covered in aluminum foil!)hours and hours of baking! When I look in the mirror now, I can't believe my skin has remained as good as it has instead of drying up like a prune. I guess the sun was just alot less strong back then.

Anyway, getting back to beauty - exercise is a must on the road to re-youth. I'm really good at long walks, but lately haven't been doing much else. Rachele brought home some excercise tapes from Physique 57 Exercise Studio in the City. Physique 57 is the excercise du jour of many celebrities, and Rachele actually goes and works out there. Her and I did the tape; it was so hard, and I was so sore for three days. But now I want my own set of these tapes. It anything can kick our butts (and everything else) into shape, it is these tapes. I will force myself to use them.

Yesterday I passed by a woman probably about my age, with long white/gray hair. Honestly, she looked pretty good. I, however, cannot jump on this bandwagon. Even though the thought crosses my mind from time to time, I will not allow myself to have gray hair. Even though I absolutely hate "washing those grays right out of my head" I cannot have gray hair. And that's that.

Hands. Next on the list. I do not get my nails done, and very infrequently put nail polish on myself. I need to get better at this; sometimes my cuticles are atrocious. Maybe once a week I can polish my short trim nails. Hands I think are a real tell-all as far as age is concerned. Need to improve in this area.

We all have our 'pretty days' when we look in the mirror in the morning and you just know it's gonna be a great day. And then there's the 'ugly days' where no amount of precious pink blush can do the trick - everything just looks really bad. You just want to wear sweatpants all day long. We have to fight through those ugly days!! Smile at yourself in that mirror - you always look younger when you smile, and prettier. We can do it, one baby step at a time, yes we can. The battle is on - bring it.

Hey Mom - Happy Birthday!

Today is my Mom's birthday. We celebrated on Easter Sunday because today her and my Dad were heading down to Atlantic City, their favorite place to be. Hope you hit it big playing the slots Mom!

As a young toddler, I don't think I was the easiest child. My Mother, just slightly short of the virtue 'patience', seemd to reach the end of her rope with me from time to time. I would be so sassy, hands on my hips, and tell her I was telling my father on her when he got home. That little statement never went over so big, and just infuriated her all the more. Sorry Mom! Then there was the time in third grade when I came home from school and announced to my mother that my teacher was prettier than her. You have to understand, the teacher that I had in third grade was about 4'10" and weighed about 200 lbs. She had stringy salt & pepper gray hair, and a rather large nose with, yes, a large growth on the tip of it. Last but not least, she had several black hairs growing our of her chin. I am NOT making any of this up, I swear. The thing is, this teacher was the nicest, kindest woman ever - her generosity of spirit made her beautiful to me. But my poor Mother!! She will still bring that one up from time to time. Mom, I really did not mean to hurt your feelings!!!

Growing up in a house full of girls, with my Mom as leader of the pack was fabulous. As a stay-at-home mom (as most every mom was back then), she had that dinner on the table every single night by 5:30/6:00. Wish I could do that . . . Our house was always immaculate - I don't mean just clean, I mean eat off the floors at any given time - immaculate! A place for everything, and everything in it's place could have been, and probably was, my Mom's motto. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit this trait; I wish I did. She always was involved in our town or church. Going to meetings, luncheons, modeling in the church fashion show (my very own Christie Brinkley for a mom) I was so proud of her. She was so busy! And social! This trait I can thank my mother for. She always had time for friends and parties, and before she met my Dad, had lots of boyfriends. In fact, her cousins call her "naughty Marie" hmmm, don't ask.

She was also so stylish. Into the car we would cram, my sisters and I, our mother at the wheel, on the way to the mall. She would always buy a little of this and a little of that; and my sisters and I were dressed to the nine's, thanks to her good taste. I have fond memories of her entertaining their friends in our home, my mom looking glamorous in her long flowy "hostess" dresses, cleavaged-out in all her glory (I also did not inherit my Mother's voluptuous breasts, oh well). She would sneak into our rooms and bring us a little snack from the party. She knew we weren't sleeping.


As a teen, my Mom was my best friend. I could tell her anything; she never judged. And she kept the best secrets, no questions asked. She would wait up for me to get home at night, at the kitchen table, signs of worry draining from her face as I walked in the front door. I would tell her not to wait up - yet, she always did. Thanks, Mom.

Yes Mom, it is to you that I owe my mom-ing skill, and so much more. I couldn't wait to be a mom because you always made it look so easy. Well, we all know it sure isn't easy, but it is the best. I'm so lucky to have you - Happy Birthday my sweet Mommy, and many many more. XOXO

Easter Aftermath

Easter is my holiday, meaning our famillies come to our house to celebrate. This turns out to be just under 40 people or so, if everyone can make it. My side of the family shares the holidays, each one of my sisters hosting at least one. I like Easter because we always have that glimmer of hope that it will be really nice weather and everyone can flow outside to the deck to hang out or eat. This year, we got lucky, really lucky. It must have been 75 degrees and sunny, a truly beautiful day. For my holiday, I take the cooking and baking very seriously, each year trying to outdo the last with homemade savories and sweets. Let me just say it now: without my right hand girl (Rachele) and my left hand girl (Kristin) all these special recipes and treats would not be possible. Every year, these girls of mine just seem to kick it up a notch. This year was no exception. I could not have pulled off this delicious Easter without them. Thanks girls!

Lets start off with church. We all decided to go to the 10:30 mass, which is the most crowded mass. Although we weren't late, we may as well have been because we were resigned to sit in the "added" section; temporary chairs set up which spilled out into the auditorium part of the church. Kristin had the luck of sitting next to me, who for the first 5 minutes or so, could not stop complaining about how I, who am at church every single Sunday, had to sit in this added section, without even a kneeler for communion time. I finally resigned myself to our Easter fate, with the reminder that the importance was that we were there, not where we were sitting.

Once we got home, time to change out of our Easter finery and get back to work. It was pretty warm out already, so I decided to put on a denim skirt, length just above my knee. I guess Kristin must have caught a glimpse of me from behind; she called me over for a closer look. She then started shreiking and laughing. Turns out the back of my thighs had not been shaved for quite some time I'm embarassed to say. She ordered me up to her room where, in the midst of Easter chaos and preparation, I laid on her bedroom floor while she proceeded to wax the crap out of my legs. See what I mean? This is why we need daughters.

Anyway, back to the kitchen, hair-free. Time to get down and dirty, so we donned our ruffle-trimmed aprons (this is a must, we wear them every year) and got busy. Homemade strawberry shortcake, chocolate cake from scratch, buttery snickerdoodle cookies, asparagus tart; we were on fire my girls and me! At about three o'clock, give or take, everyone came. It was such a nice day. Exhausting, but really nice. There's nothing quite like being with the family, celebrating, catching up with everyone's lives. It's all worth the craziness . . think I'll have Mother's Day!

Little Kids, Little Worries; Big Kids, Big Worries . . .

I think the original saying goes "Little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems." I felt the need to change it. In my situation, it's definitely worries (thank God, I think), not problems (I'll thank my kids too). Tomorrow Kristin is going on a business trip to Mexico. Not the Mexico that people flock to for fabulous vacation getaways; the other part of Mexico: the scary, tourist-hating, shooting people in cars Mexico. To put it bluntly, I am far from happy. I am scared to death.
She didn't want to come home this weekend, too much to do, so we decided to go into the city to take her and Rachele to dinner. Kristin jokingly referred to this as "The Last Supper". I was not laughing.

During dinner, conversation was light, the food was delicious, and it was just really nice. The only immediate family member missing was James who blew us all off for a party at his friend's house. Those teens! Oh well, three out of four isn't bad. Anyway, I guess I should have put on a braver front. I think all the hugging and the pleading look in my eyes made Kristin even more nervous than she already is. She got a little bitchy, and I guess I don't blame her. I've really got to try to hold some things in. I've got to try not to worry so much. I think giving her my silver rosary beads and the cross I made out of palm today in church may have been a little over the top. (It's palm Sunday, and I spend the whole mass making crosses out of the palms. I have to make four every year; one for each of my darlings.) It was just that I needed her to have these things for comfort - in case she felt the need for a healthy dose of spirituality, you never know. It sure is a great source of comfort for me. She will be home Friday, coming straight here from the airport. In the meantime, how will I sleep? How will I not spend every waking moment wondering if she's safe? Ugh; awful. I'll just have to muster up some strength from somewhere. Fill the time up with this, that and the other thing. I don't know, I'm scared for my baby girl, can't help it. Even worse is the fact that she has to go back the very next week. Again. Two weeks in a row, with only the short Easter weekend break in between. Are you kidding me? And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
At least when your kids are little, you can do everything in your power to keep them safe. When they're grown up and on their own, you can't. You just loose control, and I think that's the hardest part, giving up that control. Tonight I wanted to just lock the car doors and not let her out. Just take her back to our safe home and take care of her. But I can't. Good thing I have more rosary beads. I love you Kris - see you Friday, yes Friday. I'll be counting the days, hours, minutes. Godspeed. . .

The Art (and Soul) of Shoe Shopping

Aaah, shopping. The mere mention of the word sends my heart aflutter. For me, going shopping is not a necessity, it is a hobby, a joyful thrilling way to spend time. It isn't the kind of shopping where you need a certain pair of pants, or new sneakers. It's more like going shopping just to GO SHOPPING. Oh, and I'm good at it, yessiree. So good, in fact, I could make a career out of it. It doesn't matter who I'm shopping for, it's the art of shopping that has me hooked. To stroll through the stores with a really great percent off coupon in your hand. Maybe you'll find something, and maybe not. That part doesn't matter. Just walking through the aisles and looking at all the fresh clothes and accesories for the new season is enough. Browsing through racks and racks of sale merchandise - doesn't get much better than that. And every one of us that truly enjoys this wonderful pastime has their specific favorites.

Mine is undeniably shoes. Yes, I love love love shoes. Apparently it all started when I was two years old. My dad tells me that I used to go in my mom's closet and put on her high heel pumps. I would then parade around in them, walking perfectly, according to my dad. Early on I remember always wanting to wear my 'Sunday' shoes, usually fancy and patent leather, that would make clicking sounds on the hard wood floors. I lovingly refered to these as my 'click shoes'. Through the years, my shoe obsession only got worse (or better, depending on how you look at it). As a teenager, I was well aware of what kind of shoes were in style, and always made sure I planned my outfits around those stylish shoes, not the other way around. When I started working and making money, I would visit a store each year on my birthday and buy myself a birthday present of shoes. I'm not sure why, besides the fact that I love them. It's just something I always did.

I can walk into any shoe department now and I will try on probably twenty or so pairs of shoes, just to try them. Sample shoes on the salesfloor are usually a size 61/2 or 7; which, coincidentally, just happens to be my size. I just pick them up - try them on- look in the mirror - and love them. Of course, I don't always buy them. But I do always love them. Almost every shoe made looks so cute in a size 61/2.

Tonight I hit the jackpot. Lord & Taylor (one of my favorite shoe spots) had a special sale, you know one of those 'the more you spend the more you save' kind of sales. If you bought three pairs, you got 30% of all three pairs. Well, tonight I wasn't only trying, I was buying. I hadn't bought shoes in a while, so I had that crazy look in my eyes, perusing the shelves; with a very patient, very helpful salesperson at my disposal. It wasn't crowded, it was just lovely - a virtual shoe heaven. I mean, why not take advantage of a great shoe sale? After all, spring is here . . . only problem is, I do have many pairs of shoes, I guess you could say too many. Does that make me a momaholic/shoeaholic? Yikes!

I run into women all the time who tell me they hate shopping. This I do not comprehend. Hate shopping? How could you! Especially 'sale' shopping where you don't even have to spend a lot of money. I mean that is a pure organic high. Lucky for me, my girls and closest friends enjoy this pleasuarable past-time as much as I do. The object of their obsession may not be shoes, but who cares? The thrill is in the chase. Happy shopping.

Power On!

So last Saturday we get home from a grueling six hour ride home from Maryland, and three hours later, in a horrific rain/wind storm, our power is gone. Trees were coming down everywhere, and no, it wasn't one of those quick flicker of the lights power outtages; it was the real deal, NO POWER. Lucky for me, the girls were home to make the situation seem a little lighter. The only thing I wanted to do was climb into bed and watch some T.V. But that was certainly not to happen.
I was sure when I woke up the next day we would have power. No, we did not. To make a long story short, we did not have power for the next five days; six days altogether. This was the longest power outtage I can remember. Even Hurricane Floyd several years back only caused an outtage of three days. Each day got a little worse. Monday morning getting up for work was awful. It was the first morning of daylight savings time, and at 6:00am, it was pitch black. So I showered (we had hot water) by flashlight, got dressed by flashlight, and made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by flashlight. No coffee, no nothing. A bad way to start the work week. I tried to use as much as possible from the refrigerator, and I did give the girls two bags of food each to take back with them so I wouldn't have to throw it out. We got an obnoxious message (I had to go out and buy a corded phone so we would have some source of communciation with the outside world) from PSE&G saying that we would have power back by Wednesday or Thursday, not exactly what I wanted to hear.
Thursday afternoon after school I took Luke for a good long walk (nothing else to do). We got home around 4:30 and EUREKA!!! The oven clock was blinking - a sign of power! I can't even explain how exciting it was to have our power back. It's kind of like when you give up ice cream for Lent and then have a whopping bowl of it on Easter Sunday. Ice Cream never tasted so good; and lights never looked so good to me. I ran around like a maniac; compacting garbage, doing the first of many loads of laundry, plugging all T.V.'s back in, computers back in (we unplugged everything to protect them from possible power surges), the possibilities were endless. It was so much fun, I have still yet to vacuum, I can't wait. I now have a sparklingly clean refrigerator and freezer filled with new condiments and food. And I'm just getting started . . .
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is, when you don't have something for awhile, and it could be electicity or anything, you really really miss it. But when you get it back? How very sweet it is.

Last Stop . . . Maryland

This past weekend we found ourselves in Lexington Park, Maryland watching Charles and the Bulldogs play in the NCAA D3 Sweet Sixteen. It took us almost six hours to get there, but we were abuzz with excitement with the thought of winning the game and then playing in the Elite Eight the following night. Since winning the championship; any game played in the NCAA could be the last for the five seniors on the team; Charles, of course, being one of them. Along with the other senior parents at every game, we were all well aware of this brutal fact. The team we faced was a power house from Virginia who we did beat last year at our home court, but lost to earlier this year at theirs.
The Elite Eight was not to be for our team. After a valiant effort, we did lose. The parents sat there stunned, at a loss for words, barely even able to console each other. We were lost deep in the thought that we just saw our boys play their last 'organized' game of basketball (organized meaning part of a serious school team). We waited in virtual silence for what seemed like an eternity for the boys to emerge from the locker room. The boys were in worse shape than we were, really not wanting to talk much about the game or anything else. No one wanted to go out to eat, or really do anything but go back to their own hotel rooms and get ready to leave for home the next day. We felt the same, with the added discomfort of having both boys now done with basketball. James had his last game a couple of weeks earlier, which was also devastatingly sad for me.
After all this time, so many years running from game to game; arranging everything about our lives around basketball, it is really like a dream, or rather a nightmare, that it's over. Such an empty feeling, such a feeling of 'what are we gonna do with all this extra time on our hands'? I guess we'll fill it up somehow.
Anyway, this sure has been a great ride. We've had more fun watching basketball over the years than I can even begin to put into words. I feel so lucky to be the mom of these two boys. Charles and James, thanks for the memories, these past years will live on and on in my heart. Whenever I hear the sound of a bouncing basketball or see young boys practicing at the courts, I will think of you two. And I sure will come watch those summer league games. Basketball is life in this house - #11 forever.

My Birthday Boy

Today is Charles' birthday. I'm feeling real lucky because he was able to come home from school for it. This past weekend, his team performed an amazing feat; winning the first two games of the NCAA tournament. Coach gave them two days off; needless to say, he was home Sunday by 9:30am. Today, Monday, is his birthday. How fitting that this basketball boy of mine would be born in March - a March madness of our very own. Throughout his basketball career, he has had some amazing basketball birthdays. Won a state tournament the night of his senior year birthday. Last year, turned 21 in Ithaca after winning the second game of the 2009 NCAA tournament. Yes, it is our own March madness.

A couple of weeks ago, I had to look through boxes of old pictures to make a poster for Charles for his basketball senior day at school. All the moms of the senior boys on the team were doing this as a surprise for the boys. Finding the right pictures was sentimental, emotional and a real stroll down memory lane. The best memories just come flooding back. And once again this mother says "where did the time go?" Where is my little boy who let me cut his blonde bowl cut hair til he was in seventh grade?

Charles' birth was the hardest of all of my kids. I had a slight complication which put me in the hospital for a few weeks before I could have him. It was really hard because Rachele and Kristin were so young; just turned five and two and a half. They just didn't understand why I couldn't come home. As for me, I just laid around the hospital getting fatter and fatter, waiting for the doctors to say my baby was big and strong enough to be born. It was the first time I was having a c-section and I was petrified. The day Charles was to be born, I begged to be knocked out. After talking to our peditrician, who let me know just how bad an idea it was; I changed my mind. Just thinking it could possibly harm my baby in some way was enough for me. And then, at 10:30 am, March 8th, there he was. We had no idea we were having a boy, and with two girls already, I guess we hit the jackpot. What a beautiful baby (section babies always look so perfect from NOT going through the birth canal). Yup, love at first sight.

One night after dinner, when new babies typically get really cranky, we put on one of our favorite albums, the soundtrack from "Dirty Dancing". Our whole family was twirling around the living room, I of course cradling baby Charles while dancing away. He stopped crying and loved it. He actually fell asleep! I ran into our bathroom with him sleeping on my shoulder and looked in the mirror. He was so peaceful and chubby and I wanted that moment to last forever, so I actually told myself to remember this, just how he looked on my shoulder. And I do, I can see it in my mind as clearly as if it was yesterday. And I will have that picture in my mind forever.

Happy Birthday, Charles, and remember, even though you're kind of grown up now, you'll always be my sweet baby boy.

Heart to Heart

February is Women's Heart Health month. Believe it or not, heart disease is the #1 cause of death for women. I started thinking about my heart, beating away each day, and how very important it is to keep it healthy. Exercise, eating right all contribute to keeping those hearts beating away, hopefully for a long long time. Yes, my heart, the heart that:

-jumps for joy when I am happy
-broke for the firse time in second grade when the boy I liked voted for someone else to be Maypole Queen
-ached and ached each time one of my kids left for college
-swells with pride at the accomplishments of my children
-smiles when my husband talks baby talk to our puppy
-beats out of my chest while I watch my boys play basketball
-almost burst with too much love as I laid eyes on each of my children at their birth
-cries for the misfortune of others and cruelty to animals
-pitter patters as I drop off to sleep
-worries about getting older
-yearns for my children
-is strong from exercise
-is huge with love for my family and friends
-beats and pumps all day, every day to keep me alive

I Live and die by the Ball . . .

The basketball. A little dramatic? Let me explain, but first a disclaimer:
I cannot be held responsible for the feelings I am about to expose. Please don't judge me.

Now, as some of you know, I am nearing the end of this basketball season. I say "I" instead of "they" (the "they" being Charles and James, the actual players) because I am their mom, their very own basketball mom who has arranged her life to revolve around basketball games since the boys were in early grammar school. Let me further explain. When your kids are young and play sports, everything is fun - light - even though somewhat competitive, it is mostly just fun. When the sport is played in high school and better yet college, it is even more exciting and fun - but in my case, it pretty much rules my life. My boys are four years apart, and are now in their senior years of play; James high school and Charles college. Between the two boys, we go to 4 - 5 games a week, rarely with any conflicts.
This is how game day goes for me, and moms out there, feel free to substitute whatever sport your kid plays with basketball and see if you identify with any of these bizarre uncontrollable feelings. Okay, so I wake up like any other day. However, for most of the entire length of time until I arrive at the game, I agonize over whether my boys will "show-up" or just go through the motions. I have butterflies in my stomach most of the day. I don't eat very much because I can't. My daughters, who by the way think I'm off my rocker, lovingly refer to this as "mom's basketball diet" when they question why my jeans are so baggy on me. Crazy, right? But I can't help it. I just can't. Anyway, before game time I text Charles good luck and tell him we're on our way and that I love him. For James I kind of nag the crap out of him about "playing hard" "shooting enough" "showing a high level of energy" etc. I do it in a super-loving mom sort of way, but sometimes he is still annoyed. I guess I don't blame him. So now it's game time. We sit with the other parents and chat away. I basically watch the game twilight zone style. Yes, there are ups and downs to these games; mostly I hope these boys of mine will just go out there and play to their ability. Well, sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't. My mood for the rest of the evening and sometimes the next day will depend on their decision. I have had some of the biggest thrills of my life watching my boys play. But then I have been know to take to my bed in a frantic crying jag complete with the oncoming migraine. For me, nothing short of an emotional roller coaster. Crazy, right? Maybe. But again, I can't help it. I know that there are far more important things to worry about; major issues in the world, etc., etc., I get it. But from November to March, this is it for me (with the small intervention of Christman crazies). And I know I'm not alone in this, come on moms or dads or sisters or brothers - come clean. If I can, you can.
As all consuming and crazy as this season is, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I've written this basketball blog a thousand times in my head since November; emotions wild, somedays it was called "I hate basketball" and somedays it was called "I love basketball". I'm glad I waited. For a while, whatever time we have left in this season, basketball will be life for us. Enjoy it my boys, we're winding down. I'll be there screaming, cheering, until the last second of the very last game.

20 - 20 Vision Isn't All That Its Cracked Up To Be

A couple of weeks ago, fresh out of the shower, I was getting ready for work and putting on some make-up. I have quite the simple routine, it really only takes about five minutes and I'm ready for the day. This particular day however, I decided to look for stray eyebrow hairs that might need a pluck or two. I went to find my reading glasses so I could really see. Let me just put it out there that I hate having to wear reading glasses. I never needed glasses at all until I turned forty. Okay so I get the glasses, go back in to the mirror and take a good look. Wow! What an eye opener! Yes, I sure did have a couple of stray eyebrow hairs, but that wasn't the worst of it. Glancing down toward my chin area, there it was - one thick black hair coming out of my chin!!! Yikes!!! How long have I been walking around with this thing, and to think of all the people with 20 - 20 vision that have seen it every day and not bothered to mention it. I yanked it out with probably more force than necessary, but I needed to get this sucker out by the roots. Hopefully it won't grow back.

Anyway, point of this little story is . . there is a reason we need reading glasses as we get older. It's natures way of being kind to us when we look in a mirror. It's kind of like photo retouching when you look at yourself without the glasses on. Everything looks a little smoother, those fine lines and wrinkles a little less noticeable, a picture of blurry splendor. But do yourselves a favor ladies and occasionally put them on before you look in the mirror. There are some things we just have to see about ourselves. For the rest of the time, 20 - 40 vision is just fine by me.

A Birthday Prayer

Today is my birthday. I share this special day with President Abraham Lincoln, a great man. In my younger days I went to Catholic school, and we had off every year on my birthday. There was no 'President's Day', we always just celebrated both Washington's and Lincoln's birthday on the day they were born. Since I was born two days away from Valentine's Day, my mom always bought me these buttery big heart cookies with pink icing to bring in and give out to the kids as a birthday treat on February 13th. We also traditionally had tons of snow each year to mark the day of my birth, so there was lots of outdoor fun on that day off. This year my birthday is quiet, tonight we will go into the city to have dinner with Rachele and Kristin. Of course I already spent time with Jamey, and I did get to see Charles last night at his game. He played amazing, guess that may have been an early present for me, and I loved it. We waited for him after the game just so I could give him a hug or two or three. My parents dropped by after school with my traditional heart cake - (remember, Valentine's day?). My sisters and friends all took the time out to call me with birthday wishes. Really nice. It is a nice content birthday. Now for that prayer:
Dear Lord: Please bless me today and all through the year. Please keep me healthy, safe and strong. Please keep me under your wing as you've done all my blessed life. And thank you for always being there for me. Amen

Happy Birthday Baby

Today is Rachele's birthday; my oldest daughter, my right-hand girl (Krissy you are my 'left-handed girl' since you are a lefty). Yesterday she had an eye doctor appointment which brought her home, and with a little enticing from me, she spent the night. It was so nice waking up with her on her real birthday! The small things that mean so much to a mother. While scrambling, both of us, to get to work on time, we managed to have coffee together and I did make her a killer egg sandwich to eat later for breakfast. Thinking about her birth, already so many years ago, the memories flood my mind at an alarming rate - and they are so rich - so real - so special. There is something about the birth of your first child. The first time I held her in my arms, marveling at just how tiny yet complete she was, I couldn't believe that she was mine. Especially exciting was that I thought I was having a boy the whole time I was carrying her; but to my complete surprise, I had a daughter. I knew right then and there that I had a best friend for life.

What I didn' know was that through the course of her twenty-something years, just how much I would learn from this daughter of mine. Yes, we teach and teach and teach our children don't we? And that's the way it's supposed to be. But then there are those lucky few of us that happen to get a kid so special, that sometimes we wonder who the child is and who the adult is. So it is with me and my Rachele. She makes it her job to take care of me and the rest of the family. She will drop any plans to come to a family get-together, because it's so important to her. Never hesitating to give her opinion, she will advise me on what to wear, what to buy, what to do with my hair, etc. Sometimes I listen and sometimes I don't, but I always love her for trying.

I have spent this entire day thinking of my little Rachele, my sweet baby. But I also think of my grown-up girl and how much fun we always manage to have, no matter what we do. And she knows how I count the days til she comes home for a visit.

Happy birthday my sweet baby girl - I hope all your wishes come true. I know I have wishes of my own for you, but I'm not telling, cause then they might not come true.

January 12th, 2010 - A Golden Knight

Tonight I get to go back to my old high school for perhaps the last time (for a long time?). I have such mixed emotions - it just so happens that James' high school plays my old high school in basketball. It's always been this way, at least since Charles was in school. I remember stepping foot in the gym for the first time in so many years. The feelings that flood back
from those good 'ole high school days are incredible; some memorable, some not so. Through the basketball years I've enjoyed those visits more than not. Especially meaningful for me is being in that gym. I was a cheerleader (back then cheerleading was really cool - if you were a high school cheerleader, you had it made). Yes, the Golden Knights - my Golden Knights. Tonight will be the 8th year, and since James is a senior, my last year that I'm back for basketball.

I guess I'll get there a little early so I can really spend some time. I might even take a walk down those oh so familiar halls. Maybe I'll even check out the trophies - ah the glory days, you can never get them back. This I tell my two senior boys, all year long I've been telling them. Make the most of it - you'll regret it if you don't (do you think they will listen to me? I'm not sure. For their sake, I hope so - no regrets please boys).

Yes, I am really sentimental tonight. I think I even have to wear some blue and gold. I was even remembering some old cheers today and saying them out loud in my car on the way to work. Call me crazy, once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader. So here's to a night to remember - a Golden Knight.

Back to the Grind -

So today is Sunday, January 3rd, 2010. Here we go new year, here we go! And so it starts - yesterday, Charles left to go back to school. He has basketball, so is able to spend very little time home during the holidays. I woke up early and cooked as much food as I could in a few hours to send back with him. I miss him.

Today, I made two trips to the train station; Kristin decided she had enough home time and wanted to get settled back into her apartment before the work week, so she left at 2:30. Rachele on the other hand needed a couple of more hours of home, and left at 4:30. I drove both with regret. The sound of that train just gets me in the back of my throat; it is responsible for bringing my lovely daughters both to and from our home. I miss them.

I took down the tree today. What a sad thankless job that is. And what a beautiful tree we had this year, so full, not a bad bare side on it. A miracle that it lived as long as it did in our house; Luke thought we brought it in for his pleasure. Throughout the Christmas season, he drank all his drinks of water from the base of the tree; and when bored with nothing exciting around the house proceeded to chew off all the bottom branches. Yes I vacuumed every day. And yes, my biggest fear was that Luke would pee on the tree (he doesn't lift his leg yet). Never once did i imagine that it would serve as his holiday entertainment. I miss my beautiful tree.

Tonight we will drive out to Charles' game. Even though it is below zero out with the windchill factor, and flurrying all day, and the perfect night to get ready for school after vacation, we will make that drive because we have to see him play. We need to see him play. Tomorrow, tired but happy, I will miss this past vacation.

And we will all get back into our routines, our everyday ordinary routines. I will miss the stress and beauty of this Christmas Season - how 'bout you???