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. . .
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, March 19, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Monday, March 8, 2010
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.
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.
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