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Life As A Fire Wife

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This is MY 24 on

 

All of my children are at school and my fireman is on his 24. It’s just an ordinary day in my life. I managed to get everyone up and dressed in picture day appropriate clothes with no tantrums, although one child did style his hair to have one eye completely covered while the hair on the other side of his face is brushed nicely to the side, we may not be purchasing his pictures. As we walked to the bus stop, I asked my boys to show me their beautiful smiles that they will have in their pictures. After 2 showed me their unapproved picture day faces, I may or may not have told them I would destroy them if they made those faces, but there are no witnesses so you can’t prove those words came out of my mouth. I gave them all kisses(still allowed, thankfully) and watched them leave for the day.

I changed it up a bit today and got a haircut, a special treat for myself, and then after a few household chores, I picked up my 1 year old nephew and took him to story time for the first time. Hopefully the blue paint washes out of his clothes and skin(apologies to his mom and dad). A mom I know from previous years with my boys said, “Who is this, you don’t have a baby?” So I told her very matter of factly, “I wasn’t ready to give up my Wednesday morning story time routine, so I stole a baby.” (Insert pause, possible awkward giggle), “No, he’s my nephew.” As I followed my nephew all over the children’s room and then played with him at the playground, I thought back to those busy days when my boys were so little and problems usually had an easy fix like singing a song together or a kiss and a hug. Sweet memories that I most likely did not appreciate in the moment.

By the time I got home, I knew it was time to get down to business around here, the bathroom needed to be cleaned(no matter what I do, it always smells like urine-I am no longer fighting this, instead I am embracing it, and lighting a candle), I needed to eat lunch, read for my bible study tomorrow, work on gutting my basement, fold laundry, write, etc.

By the time I got down to the basement I allotted myself 20 minutes to sort/organize/whatever. At the tail end of my time, I started looking through a box that came out of someone’s truck(I am saying someone so that I am not pointing fingers). There were tools, eye glass cases, an empty water bottle, instruction manuals, and then… I pulled out… a small Tupperware container… containing… ugh… I can’t even… I don’t even know what it was or what it had been, all I know is that I stopped singing Backstreet Boys-Drowning, and examined this brown liquid that may have always been a liquid or that has been in my basement so long that it is now in liquid form. It didn’t spill on me, but I swear I smelly funky. I am fortunate to report that my face did not freeze in the position that it was when I pulled this container out, and at that I called it quits. Cleaning my bathroom that perpetually smells like pee had to be better than cleaning the unknown! PS-to that special someone, flowers and a foot rub may erase this memory from my brain but not from my blog.

Honestly, the bathroom felt like a welcome relief, so I put the past behind me and put some music on my phone and placed it on the window sill, because, now that I am home alone, I can’t clean without singing and dancing(no dancing in the bathroom though, too small, I could hurt myself). As I scrubbed my counter top, I couldn’t help but wonder if my neighbor who was out on his ladder working on his siding thought I was serenading him with Charlie Puth and Ed Sheeran.

Now I’m sitting here with my feet up, laughing at my day, looking at the laundry basket of clean laundry, listening to Darius Rucker. My shoes are finally off(I was told yesterday that I may have a stress fracture and that I need to break up with my flip flops and bare feet for awhile-sadness). I have an hour until my house is filled with chaos and volume again. Here is what I am learning in all of my lonely hours-breathe, don’t take things so seriously, laugh, joke around, relax, love.

9/11

IMG_0472I feel like being honest today, not that I’m not usually honest,  but I feel like being raw, it’s that kind of day and with 6 followers, what have I got to lose? 6 followers, please don’t leave me!

I met my husband 16 years ago, a little over a month before 9/11. He dreamt of being a firefighter like his dad and I dreamt of being a writer. It wasn’t until we started dating long distance and I started to fall in love that I told him that I wasn’t interested in making a life with a firefighter. I wanted a nice predictable, tidy life, with a bow on it, perhaps. A life opposite of the one I grew up in. I didn’t want the uncertainty of being the wife of a firefighter, a life that I knew nothing about except…the risk, the danger, the… possibility of being killed in the line of duty… death. I was scared of death, everything about it, even talking about it, I couldn’t do it. My husband and I dated for 5 years before we got married and the two things that had the potential to break us up were our long distance relationship and his dream of being a firefighter.

In 2004 hubby and I graduated with our Bachelors, him with a degree in criminal justice and me with a degree in communications and English. He got a job In a retirement community as a security officer and I got a job in a daycare, neither one of us living our dreams. My hubby works so hard at everything he does that he moved up rather quickly in his job. His job as a security officer got him his EMS license, and from there he got his EMT. I knew he wanted more, there was something missing, even after we got married and had our first son, something was missing. He started talking about the fire exam more and discussing paramedic school. My heart about the whole issue was changing. Now we were married and I wanted my husband to live his dream. I remember when I told him to go for it. He jumped in, 100% and I finally let go and supported him. Blood, sweat, and tears marked the years of paramedic school, the call to the fire exam, the physical training, the fire academy, the pregnancies, the potty training, etc, but we survived, and on the day he graduated from the fire academy, I was ginormously pregnant with our third son, and beaming with pride for my husband.

9/11 brings back different memories for everyone. We all remember where we were when we heard the planes crashed into the twin towers. I lived in NY at the time, working in a daycare on the bottom floor of a 7 story building. People on the top floor could see the crash. It was an unbelievably scary day. We put babies in cribs and evacuated the building, waiting for parents to come pick up their children. I called my mom, over and over again, wondering if she got out of the city. She worked across the street from the twin towers. I couldn’t breathe easy until I finally got the call that she was safe, on a ferry to Staten Island. But she was scared and covered in debris.

My friends and I, brand new high school graduates watched the news in unbelief. That day began the countdown for me, I was scared to be in NY and ready to leave. As if it was New York’s fault that terrorists attacked the twin towers. As if it was New York’s fault that so many people died that day. Truth is we live in a broken and fallen world and there are bad people out there. The bible says that the devil comes to steal, to kill, and to destroy. The comfort in tragic events like 9/11 or the Boston marathon bombing is the good that comes out of them, because good always triumphs over evil. Good always triumphs over evil, ALWAYS. Hard to believe that when we are too scared to watch the news because it is bombarding us with every bad thing that has happened in the last 24 hours. There is good out there, so why do we focus on the bad? It’s like gossip, bad news always spreads faster than good news. But good always wins, because when bad things happen, people band together, they forget about politics and choosing sides. Thank God for all of those first responders who ran into those towers when everyone was running out. Thank God for those people on that flight that banded together against the terrorists ruining their original plot. Thank God for the emergency workers, who are away from their families responding to hurricane relief in Houston.

For the longest time, I couldn’t watch anything 9/11 related. Even when I left NY, the fear gripped me and brought me back to that day. And then, my husband became a firefighter. While the memories of that day will never change, the meaning of the day impacted me differently. You see it wasn’t so much about remembering the fear, it was now about remembering the civilians, honoring the fallen fire fighters and police officers, knowing that the final alarm can come at any time. So now on 9/11 I take my boys to the ceremony that my small town puts together to support my fireman and his brothers, no matter how it makes me feel, no matter how choked up I get when I hear those bagpipes, and no matter how my eyes sting when I hear the Fireman’s prayer.

Almost a year ago my guys and I got to visit my family in Colorado for Thanksgiving. It was amazing to be with my family for a holiday, the first one in 7 years, we hadn’t celebrated together since 2009 when my mom passed away. While we were visiting we had the opportunity to go the Fallen Firefighters Memorial in Colorado Springs. The name of every firefighter who died in the line of duty was engraved in this beautiful memorial site. And as I’m walking through the rows, quietly observing and paying my respects, my oldest son says, “wow, a lot of firefighters died on that day.” I told him to check the date. “September 11, 2001,” he replied. I looked at him, and he understood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Tribute to Mom

Yesterday marked 8 years since my mom passed away. How is that even possible? My baby was getting on the school bus for the first time yesterday and my mom never even met him, she never knew of him. I felt a melancholy wash over me yesterday and the day before. I heard a song on the radio that didn’t make me think of her but as I was singing the lyrics, “When your legs don’t work like they used to before,” and all of a sudden I heard this love song in a completely different way and I thought about life 9 years ago. 9 years ago when my mom got sick, her body filled with cancer, nothing was working well, not her legs, not her blood, not her organs, so when I heard those lyrics, I was all done, and I knew the season was coming for me that I remember vividly, the season of saying goodbye to my mom. I also recalled the early days of mourning. I was home with 2 under 2, and as soon as my hubby walked in the door, I told him what needed to be heated up for dinner and I drove down to the seawall, ran my 2 miles, while thanking God for every part of my body that worked, and when I was done running and done praising, I would get into my car and cry while I drove home. Yesterday after all 3 boys were on the bus, I went to the gym, and while I wasn’t going to run because I have been nursing an injury, I ran, and I praised God for my body that works, and I prayed to God for everyone I know who is sick with cancer or any other disease that makes their body not work.

Lately I’ve been looking at life through the perspective that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, people get sick, kids get sick, but while I am here and I am healthy and my family is here and healthy, we should have fun, I’m dancing in the supermarket aisles, singing into my broom, remembering to put some music on to be the soundtrack of our lives. Memory making isn’t over just because my kids are out of diapers, memory making happens every day. So yesterday I took my 9 year old to stop and shop and we spent about $25 on everything we needed for ice cream sundaes to top waffles for dinner, because my mom would have gotten them ice cream for dinner and spoiled them rotten. I even ignored the high fructose corn syrup label because my mom wouldn’t have read the labels unless she was checking for cholesterol.

 

Back to school time

As I sit here at 9:16 am on a Thursday morning in August with a cleansing skin mask on and no children underfoot, I can’t help but wonder where summer went while simultaneously doing a little cheer complete with cartwheels and backflips(imaginary of course as I am not as nimble as my children). The last time I wrote, if you recall, I was putting arthritis cream on one kid, while another was stuck in a tree, and a third was missing an appointment because I couldn’t keep track of the days of the week(I should have had them sing me the song to remind me, oh well, maybe next year). Summer has come and gone now and writing just wasn’t something I could keep up with. It’s not that we were overly busy, but I don’t like to over load myself, and there were so many things that I HAD to do and so many things I WANTED to do, that writing got cut, but that’s ok, because it got me to brainstorm all the things I wanted to write about once the boys were back in school. So it turned out that their summer vacation was my summer vacation too, and as it should be, why should they get to have all the fun??? I am not trying to imply that it was all FUN, oh no, sometimes, it was torture, hair pulling, kicking and screaming torture. In fact, I now know why summer camps would be a fabulous addition to my life next year, because my kids need a break from one another. We did almost everything together this summer, which I believe is a beautiful thing, and I want more of it, but I can also see the necessity in getting my kids to do some separate activities next summer so they won’t be picking at one another 24/7. When they were getting along, they were great, sweet, beautiful Hallmark moments, and when they weren’t… it wasn’t.

So what did we do this summer? We went to the beach and the pool with our friends, saw some movies, my youngest went to summer school for 3 weeks, we did vacation bible school at our church, I babysat for 2 weeks(my kids were obsessed), we dog sat twice for a week each(my kids were obsessed), my dad visited for a little over two weeks-we day tripped and found some great local fishing spots, my fireman and I got to go on a few dates and a few late night walks, we celebrated two birthdays(ages 6 and 8), I went to two concerts(one with hubby one without), read lots of books, and watched lots of tv. We had a good summer.

It is still summer time, but here in our little beach side town, it is time for the kiddos to go back to school. My oldest and middle started 2nd and 4th on Tuesday and I actually got a little choked up at the bus stop. And yesterday my youngest got on the bus for the very first time for his first day of kindergarten. My sweet neighbor gave me a hug after I asked my son if I could ride the bus with him, he laughed, told me no, and let go of my hand. This kid is not new to school, he is a pro at 6 years old already, but as I lay in bed this morning thinking about my day, I calculated that he is gone an extra 80 minutes more a day than in pre-school and that’s only on the 3 days he went full day last year. What does that mean? It means this mama is going to have a lot of time on her hands(so much so that I switched to third person). Everyone tells me, you will fill up that time and figure it out. Oh, I know I will, there is a lot to be done. But let me say what I don’t want to fill my day up with ishousework. My kids are all in school, all day, and I miss them. I miss when they were toddlers and we had trips to the playground and picnics, I will miss our library outings(I plan to borrow my nephew for story time as I’m really not ready to give it up yet), I will miss reading to my little boys a zillion times a day. I will miss building with them and as I packed away our little people collection yesterday I remembered all the fun times we had with those toys. I am thankful for all of those memories and looking back over all those years of raising babies into bigger boys, my life revolved around them, every second of every day, diapers, stories, outings, baths, playtime, movies, keeping these kids healthy and alive is a full time job, so mama’s give yourselves credit, whether you stay at home or work outside the home, raising babies is full time work, I joke that the pay is terrible, but the rewards are pretty sweet.

I loved this full time stay at home mama job, and now I get to adapt to it in a new way and I’m pretty excited for the things ahead. I can get a part time job, I can write, I can cook and bake(with chocolate or bacon, or maybe both, maybe at the same time), I can craft, I can volunteer at the school, I can blog, I can draw, I can use the steam mop as my microphone while I clean the house and listen to Backstreet Boys(judgment free blog zone), I can visit with friends, I can read a book, I can watch a movie, I can go on day dates with my husband without having to pay a sitter! I can find out a little bit of who I am without my kids, so perhaps it can help me to be a better mommy for me kids. So today I spent the morning at the beach with my friend, and later when my kids say, “you went to the beach without me?” I can reply, “yup, I did it for you!”

Kid stuck in a tree, arthritis cream, forgotten appointments and other summer shenanigans…

Last week was the first full week of my boys summer vacation. I don’t like that it is their summer vacation and not mine, so I decided that this year, I am taking back summer vacation! My life will not revolve around little boys and every want and whim that they could possibly have/want/need, instead it will revolve around what is best for our family and time together, precious time that we miss out on during the school year.

Two weeks ago tomorrow, my boys got off the bus at noon after an early release and I decided that I would let the, have their day. We went to the library to sign up for summer reading and when we got home they could play, have screen time, WHATEVER, because I had a plan for the following day. That afternoon while my boys played so nicely together and independently, I found a bunch of craft sticks and wrote chores on each of them, then placed them in a pretty jar, right in the middle of the table.

The next morning, the first full day of summer my boys awoke nice and late(happy happy joy joy) and as I got breakfast out they asked, “What’s that?” I happily told them our summer plan, every morning, pick one stick, do that one chore, tidy your room, and then you can have screen time, but no screen time until your room is tidy and your chosen chore is complete. I grimaced while waiting for whines, groans, etc. Instead, my boys each happily picked a chore, did it, and declared, “that wasn’t too bad.” This mama was riding on cloud 9!!! Next on the list was to break it to them that we would also be having 30 minutes of quiet time a day during the summer, since the chores went so well, I decided to wait until lunch to break their hearts about quiet time…

While 3 hungry boys munched on their lunches after a low key morning at home, I told them the quiet time plan. 30 minutes of quiet time starting with a page in a workbook, writing a letter to someone, or journaling, followed by reading, coloring, or playing quietly AND independently. I need this time!!! I need this time to work with my youngest on his fine motor and kindergarten readiness skills, and I need this time for my SANITY!! Want to know what happened when 30 minutes was up? 1 child said, “that wasn’t so bad,” and another child said, “I loved quiet time.” Hallelujah! A successful day 1 of summer vacation. The rest of the week was more of the same, with a little more resistance on quiet time, but we did manage to establish this as our routine. Everyone was getting along, playing together, sharing(gasp!), and then… week 2– the first full week of summer vacation began…

Week 2–the honeymoon is over. Everyone is fighting, everyone is moody, nobody knows how to share. It’s like 3 monsters came in to replace the 3 happy, agreeable boys from the week before. I can’t quite relate to the relationship my boys have with one another because 1- I’m a girl and 2- my only sibling is 9.5 years older, so we both basically grew up as an only child. So here are my 3 boys, all 23 months apart together 24/7, my husband and I don’t even spend that much time together. We live in a pretty small house to boot. The interaction, the interrupting, and the over stimulation is constant. God bless my boys for putting up with one another, on the days they do, and now, thanks be to God, I’m getting a better understanding of why sometimes they just can’t.

By Tuesday, I was exhausted, but I rallied all the energy I could muster and the boys and I spent the day with a dear, sweet friend of mine, their surrogate “Auntie.” We went out to lunch and out to ice cream. We had a full, lovely day together. By that evening, my fireman had to go to a union meeting and I legitimately had no energy left, so after dinner I let the boys play outside with our neighbors while I washed the dishes(yup dishes again) and cleaned up, and took a few breaths to myself. My breathing was promptly interrupted by  Evan running in the house to tell me that Christopher was stuck in a tree. I figured as soon as I got out there, he would be making his way down like the boss he is in the tree tops, but low and behold, he had climbed the skinniest, wimpiest bush like tree in the yard, and sure enough, there was not a single branch he could step on to hold his skinny body mass for him to get down. I had a few options. 1-Jump and I’ll catch you–unfortunate result would be flat mommy and broken bones for the both of us, or 2-ask my 4 year old neighbor to please run and get her daddy. I went with 2. While we waited for little legs to run as fast as they could, Christopher decided he should shimmy up the tree a bit more to continue to hold on. I thought this tree was going to break in half, it seriously began to lean and bend to one side. Thankfully my neighbor came and saved the day. After a few more minutes I bribed them inside with an episode of American Ninja Warrior if they could get into pajamas as fast as they could.

After the show was over, I was more than ready to put these boys to bed. Evan had been complaining for quite some time that his legs hurt, so I rallied one last time for the day and went in the bathroom in search of some muscle rub that my dad had left behind last time he was visiting. I found the jar I was looking for and read the label, then I weighed my options, continue to listen to whining or apply the cream? I applied the cream. I applied the arthritis cream to my 7 year olds legs. My husband laughed and shook his head, but seriously what harm could it do? It wouldn’t give him arthritis and if it saved my sanity, what’s in a name!

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was feeling a bit more refreshed, I got up, made breakfast, did the dishes, watered the plants, helped the boys do their chores, and worked out. I felt accomplished for  only 9:47 am, until I realized that Logan’s speech therapy appointment was supposed to start 2 minutes ago, and I had completely forgotten about it, oopsies. Thankfully the receptionist was very understanding and got us in at 5:30, after which we got to my nieces softball game as they were shaking hands and saying good game, oh well.

Thursday came and I had enough of this week, so I hired a babysitter so my fireman and I could go grocery shopping and have an uninterrupted conversation if we wanted, or we could eat dinner and shop in silence and that would have been fine too. We had a lovely date and I am looking forward to more of these this summer. Because even though summer time is a kids dream of no school, no homework, no running after the bus because mom can’t get her act together in the morning, it is not all about the kids. And if I make my life all about my kids, I will take my eyes off of God, the author and creator of everything beautiful that I have. If I take my eyes off of God, I will forget that he made these beautiful beings that are screaming at each other and that he makes no mistakes. If I take my eyes off of God and put my kids wants needs and desires in front of everything else, our lives, our marriage, and our family will fall apart and we will raise narcissistic, entitled kids who turn into narcissistic and entitled adults which is not something we are striving for.

So this week my goals remain the same, to make memories and to let my kids be kids. Every day does not have to be a memory making outing, I hope they have memories of vacuuming, watering the flowers, being my laundry helper, or cleaning the bathroom, all memories that will point to being part of a family, serving one another and ultimately serving a loving and faithful God.

PS-This blog was joyfully written during the first 24 hour shift out of 2 or 4, I’m not sure what I’m dealing with this week, so in these cases I go day by day

PPS-this blog was joyfully interrupted by, “umm, mom… there’s a dead animal in the yard,” Followed by the phone call to my fireman that went like this, “Hey honey, how do I dispose of a dead animal in the yard  and then how can I un see what I just saw?”

 

 

Why I Relay

Relay for Life is a once a year event from the American Cancer Society that I have been participating in for the past 7 years. It is a touching event that honors, remembers, and fights back in communities across the country. Anyone can be a part of it, whether you have been affected by cancer or not. I have personally been affected by cancer many times in my life. In the past 7 years, I have lost my mom to ovarian cancer and my father in law to liver cancer.

I don’t think I heard the word cancer until I was 9 or 10 years old and my grandfather was diagnosed with brain cancer. A short time after he passed away, my grandmother passed away from lung cancer. I didn’t really understand the disease at that point.

8 years ago this August, 2017, cancer struck closer to home, when my mom heard the news, “you have cancer.” Her husband delivered the news to me, I only remember the news in bits and pieces, as I wasn’t expecting to hear this diagnosis, no one ever is. My mom had gone in for a hysterectomy and what they found was widespread ovarian cancer.

When I went to visit my mom at the hospital the next day, she looked at me and said, “It’s cancer.” I looked at her and said, “I know. And I’m pregnant.” I had just found out the night before, the night I found out my mom had cancer, I found out I was pregnant with my second son.

I talked to my mom every day during my pregnancy, except the day after chemo, those were not good days. I researched cancer fighting foods and ovarian cancer. I went to my ob/gyn appointments, watched and felt my baby grow inside me, as my 1 year old was growing and changing every day. This was an emotional roller coaster. I was exhausted from pregnancy, overwhelmed by the heavy load of caring for a toddler and my husband(not a firefighter yet), and thinking about my mom. I began having palpitations and a dizziness spell that lead my doctor to send me to a cardiologist who put me on a heart monitor. My poor mom, the worry wart, was so concerned about me. I had electrodes all over my chest with this pager like thing tucked into a pocket, for about 10 days. I was miserable.

When I got the all clear to remove my electrodes, it was determined that the palpitations were not harmful and probably being caused by anxiety(shocker). Can you imagine me being anxious? Mom fighting for her life, a wild one year old, pregnancy hormones, and a husband going through paramedic school. FUN TIMES!!

Mom was a fighter, she had a few transfusions along the road of chemo. She always sounded cheerful, she was always checking on me and my guys, she was always taking care of everyone. My sister was pregnant too, and through mom’s chemo treatments mom was working on our babies needlepoints, something special she did for all her grandchildren.

As the months went on, my belly got bigger, and mom got weaker(although I never realized it at the time). She was starting to struggle with energy and even took a fall towards the end that left her on the floor all day until her husband got home from work. I was so upset with her that I didn’t talk to her for days after. I felt she needed more help, a plan in place, while her husband was at work and my sister and I were so far away.

9 months into her battle with ovarian cancer, I went into labor, 9 days before my scheduled C-section. I called my dad to let him know and he said, “Your sister is in the hospital too.” Hours later my sister gave birth to baby Jedidiah Patrick in Mississippi, and I gave birth to Evan Daniel, in Massachusetts,–twin cousins we called them.

I got to talk to my mom later on that day, and the next day. But by my third day in the hospital, I got off the phone with my mom crying. She wasn’t making any sense, she was quiet and losing her train of thought. I was convinced it had spread to her brain. My sister called mom’s husband and shared our concerns.

On discharge day as my wheelchair reached our blue envoy outside of the hospital, my phone rang, my mom’s husband Walter was letting me know that he was taking my mom to the hospital. By the next day, they were discussing hospice. But only shortly after, did she take a turn for the worse. Every phone in my house was ringing, cell phones, landlines, but as I was swimming in diapers and caring for a toddler, I receive the news that mom was being intubated and I needed to come say goodbye.

We made arrangements for our toddler, and my husband drove me and our baby to NY(C-section=no driving-wouldn’t want to pop my staples out). We picked up my sister and my baby nephew from the airport and went to the hospital. With no plan in place, we didn’t know how long we would stay. My childhood friends swooped in like super hero’s looking after our babies for hours while we sat with mom. We stayed in hotel rooms all over Brooklyn, wherever my father in law could use hotel points. I nursed almost every hour all night long as Evan was cluster feeding, and when he wasn’t nursing I was always waiting for the phone to ring. By day we walked at least 1/4 of a mile from the lobby to mom’s room, I remember holding my side, thinking my staples would come undone, looking back I probably should have been pushed in a wheelchair, but I kept a fast pace, rushing to my moms side, never knowing when her last breath would be.

Finally we were told, they just didn’t know, we felt it was time to go, so we got packed up, drove my sister and nephew to the airport, went back to the hospital to say one final goodbye, when the doctor told us, it could just be hours away. We paged my sister at the airport and went back to get her. More long hospital days and sleepless nights followed. We visited the funeral home and shopped for a casket with our babies. We shopped for a dress for mom to be buried in with our babies. And finally, we wrote letters to the hospital board asking them to unplug the machines, with our babies. And then we said good bye. Mom wasn’t gone yet, but it was time to go home. The next day, a beautiful Sunday afternoon at the playground in August, I got the call, she was gone.

Mom was always caring and compassionate, even in her dying days, it was like she was making sure her daughters and grand babies were ok before she gave up the fight. God’s hand was all over this, and to anyone who ever questions the very existence of a good God, I would argue, with this story as my ammunition. Yes, it sucked to lose my mom to cancer, it sucked so bad that it was SUCKTASTIC! But seriously, my sister and I gave birth hours apart, my mom fought for 9 months, the duration of our pregnancies. Who else could plan all that but God. You could call it a coincidence, but I call it a godincidence.

I relay for my mom. I relay for cancer research, cancer prevention, and a cure, so that maybe some day, some one won’t have to lose their mom to a cancer that is so silent, it swoops in with invisible symptoms. I relay so that one day a 63 year old woman diagnosed with ovarian cancer will have better odds of survival than my mom did.

I relay for my father in law. Diagnosed with liver cancer with only months to live and no treatment. I relay because 4 months from diagnosis to death is not enough time to say goodbye. I relay so that one day an otherwise healthy 60 year old won’t be taken from his family so young and so quickly.

Tomorrow from noon to midnight I will Relay with my family and friends as we honor, celebrate, remember, and fight back, to make a world with less cancer, and more birthday’s. So if anyone is near Weymouth High School tomorrow, come give me a hug and walk a lap with me. Stay for a few minutes, stay for 12 hours. Hear life changing stories, see faith in action, witness love. And if you feel lead, you can make a donation at the link below. Thank you for reading my story.

https://secure.acsevents.org/site/SPageServer?pagename=my_fundraising&pc2_page=center&fr_id=80878

“Red Light”

By David Nail

So this is how it ends
This is where it all goes down
This is what “I don’t love you” feels like

It ain’t the middle of the night
And it ain’t even raining outside
It ain’t exactly what I had in mind
For goodbye

At a red light in the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try

Some are comin’ home
Some are leavin’ town
While my world’s crashin’ down
On a Sunday
In the sunshine
At a red light

I thought she was gonna say
Somethin’ about that couple kissin’
Crossin’ the street
Or somethin’ about this beautiful day

But she just looked me in the eye
Said it’s over
Didn’t try to lie
Or pick a fight
I might have seen it comin’ thata way

But at a red light in the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try

Some are comin’ home
Some are leavin’ town
While my world’s crashin’ down
On a Sunday
In the sunshine
At a red light

There’s a momma calmin’ down a little baby
In the backseat in front of me
There’s an old man dressed in his Sunday best
Just waitin’ on green
But I can’t see, gettin’ past

This red light
In the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try

Some are comin’ home
Some are leavin’ town
While my world’s crashin’ down
On a Sunday in the sunshine
(at a red light)

At a red light in the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try

Some are comin’ home
Some are leavin’ town
While my world’s crashin’ down
On a Sunday
In the sunshine
At a red light [x4]

 

A little diddy about Logan, my Pre School graduate!

20170612_191324And just like that, we have a pre school graduate.

I want to say, I blinked and then he was all grown up, but there has not been a stage in my 5 year olds life that has been quick. This kid, my little love, has developed on no one’s time table but his own. I like control, and this has seriously made me CRAZY at times. It is funny how God uses our children to mold us and shape us into different people, because not only has Logan developed and changed in his 5 years, but Kenny and I have too.

Logan is our 3rd son, our grand finale. We didn’t find out the gender for our first two, we liked the idea of a surprise. I wanted our first to be a boy, and he was. I wanted our second to be a boy so our first would have a buddy, and he was. At our gender reveal uldtrasound, I was convinced we were having a girl and when the ultrasound tech told us we were having a boy, I looked at her, completely dumbfounded, and said, “where, show me where.” I remember thinking, no, I have two of those already, this is a girl. But a few months later, it was confirmed when we welcomed Logan Matthew Resnick into our world. Logan weighed in at 9 pounds, the first out of three that we weren’t afraid to hold, that kid came out looking sturdy with a head full of brown hair, long fingernails, and eye lashes you could see across a room. My five days in the hospital after my C-section had its ups and downs. I experienced more alone time with a new born as Kenny was home more with the other boys, that was interesting. I remember needing to get up out of bed after I nursed him to change his diaper, but with my incision I couldn’t lift myself up and hold my baby. I pressed the nurse call button a lot, it was my, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up help line. Around day 3 Logan couldn’t latch on to eat and he was getting so upset that he developed a fever. The next day we were told he was tongue tied pretty badly and that we would need to see a specialist to have it taken care of upon discharge.

After Logan had his tongue clipped, he started eating and never looked back, but yet, he still struggled to gain weight, even after being born at 9 pounds. We had weight checks almost every month for the first year of his life. Around the time of his first birthday, a friend from church called and expressed some concerns from observing him in the church nursery, that Logan wasn’t hitting milestones. Logan had just had a well visit and the doctor wasn’t concerned with anything so we figured everything was fine. He was easy and such a sweet love that we weren’t concerned.

It was true, Logan was developing slowly. He didn’t get his first tooth until about 14 months, didn’t walk until 22 months, at which point we really missed the bouncy but scoot he had taught himself to do, we dressed him as tigger one Halloween and he didn’t disappoint, that boy got some serious air on his scoots! But then by 2 years old, he still wasn’t talking. Our primary still was not concerned, and Kenny and I figured that our oldest monopolized so much time talking, that once he went to kindergarten, maybe Logan would have a chance to talk. Well Christopher was in kindergarten for nearly 6 months and Logan still wasn’t talking, so we began to work with early intervention. Slowly but surely, Logan started to develop some words, but we waited so long that we didn’t get much time with EI, but EI is such a wonderful organization, they began the process with our public school system to have him evaluated by the pre-school team.

By the time the pre-school team left our house on evaluation day, I knew we would be offered services for him because the only word he said to them was bye. This began my journey of letting go. My older boys never went to pre-school, they were home with me for the first 6 years od their lives. But by now it was evident that Logan needed help and it was our job to let go and make sure that he got what he needed.

So tears flooded my eyes today as I wrote thank you cards to his teachers today, two of them he has had for three years now. Three years, he is practically a professional at pre-school! I was overcome by emotion thinking of how far he has come in those three years. He went in to school non verbal in a substantially separate classroom setting. When he got upset, he would crawl into a ball, like one of those roley poley bugs. We laughed at iep meetings and conferences remembering those days when Logan would role into a ball and his teachers would pick him up, but he remained in the ball. Man he has made excellent progress, I’m getting choked up as I write this, not because he is my baby and he is going to kindergarten but because I am so in awe of how far he has come and I am so extremely grateful to our amazing pre-school team, who have been patient with us, have walked along side us, who have loved our child, have cheered for our child, and helped him grow to be the strong, smart, independent, and confident kid that he is today.

It has not been an easy journey for us. On top of his 3 full days at school and 1 half day, he goes to roughly 6 therapies during the school day as well as 2 private therapies that we have had him in for about 2 years now. We have switched dr’s from a family medicine dr to a developmental pediatrician. Last year we even went to a neurologist at Boston Children’s Hospital to rule out a diagnosis beyond developmental delays. There were a few months when we were pretty sure he had cerebral palsy and were just getting used to the label when his MRI came back as unremarkable. I cried and I thanked God.

We have had the pleasure of watching a non verbal child turn into a chatter box. . We have seen him struggle and we have seen him accomplish so much and come out on top. Our boy has a ways to go, but he has come a long way from where he was. At his last iep meeting, we were told that his speech is his greatest strength, what a blessing this was. And yesterday at his pre school party with his morning friends he got a beautiful award for Powerful Perseverance, for being determined and never giving up. Perseverance  is a word that has come up a lot over the years even  way back to  his days of EI, his therapists and teachers have commented that he perseveres through so much.

As I reflect on how much Logan has accomplished and how far he has come, I am filled with hope for his future. He is a smart, kind, loving, gentle, compassionate, cute, and funny little boy, that God has made, and though he has had struggles, God made him, he formed him in my womb, he knows him better than I do, he knows the number of hairs on his head, and God makes no mistakes. Logan is fearfully and wonderfully made. My sweet, sweet boy.

 

Presence Over Perfection

No lie, I have so many things on my mind tonight that I could write 3 different blog posts right now, but there just isn’t time for that tonight. So where do I begin? June. June has been a hard month for me for the last 4 years, the funny part is, is that I never see it coming. The past few weeks I’ve been feeling anxious, tired, and just a general feeling of not being content. June is such a busy time when you have school aged kids. All of these end of the year events are crammed into the last 2 weeks of school, leaving my head spinning and my calendar full(something I don’t strive for). The calendar of events these past two weeks have included; baseball games, art show, a full day of school concerts, classroom party, pre-school graduation(tomorrow’s blog topic), wax museum, field day, field trips, firefighter’s memorial Sunday. This week  I have an eye exam and a physical, my fireman is at a convention in Hyannis back and forth until Wednesday, and then we round off the week with 2 baseball games and Relay For Life as the cream filling in between, 12 hours of walking around a track, a fun yet emotional day(another blog post).

I’m overwhelmed, so what? Who isn’t? This week has a bigger significance to me. 4 years ago, my fireman walked out the door to this same convention and I sank into a pit. Depression and anxiety rocked my world as time actually felt like it stopped ticking. I sat at home with my 3 boys ages 1, 3, and 5 at the time and cried for 3 days. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls and I was so fatigued, yet I couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard I tried. When Kenny got home, I went to bed for three days. When I wasn’t sleeping I was staring at the wall. I had no motivation, no drive, no desires. My get up and go, had gotten up and gone… without me.

So began an incredible journey. After feeling like my gp had led me in the wrong direction, I sought the help of a functional medicine doctor who after a short physical examination, did not diagnose with me depression or anxiety but with a stress related condition called adrenal fatigue and severe vitamin deficiencies. From that point we changed my diet, my exercise, my daily routine, and really my whole outlook on my life.

The ups and downs over these past 4 years have been tough. I’ve learned to cling to the Lord and depend on him. I’ve learned to slow down and not over book my calendar(on purpose). I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned there is beauty in sandwiches for dinner on paper plates. I’ve learned to get out of my comfort zone. I’ve learned to be grateful for the many blessings in my life. I’ve learned that God gave me beautiful friends to lean on and  to pray with.

I’m thankful for my adrenal fatigue because it has taught me so much. So when June rolled around and I got lost in my calendar-in the big picture, I remembered my past and that I needed to focus on today, on all the moments in between the events. I remembered that I needed to take time for myself, that my body needs exercise and rest, and that my mind and my soul need time with the Lord. I’ve been diffusing essential oils to relax, taking my vitamins, eating well, going on daily walks, spending time in prayer, getting lost in a good book, watching hallmark movies, all things that I love, all things that are for me. Because self care is so important. And way back when my adrenals crashed, I wasn’t doing self care. I was going so hard, so fast, for so long that the days flew by, the moments were slipping away, and I was just trying to be supermom to three littles and super wife to my man. But now I know that my people don’t need me to be super anything, they just need me. Imperfect, way less than super, running late, totally messy, slightly forgetful me. They need me to show up, to be there, to be PRESENT!!

Last night I was getting my oldest and my middle ready for baseball and they couldn’t find their uniforms. This isn’t the first time they couldn’t find something that I could easily find, however, the uniforms were not in the drawers. I had a minor freak out in my brain as I tore threw the hamper and found 2 baseball uniforms at the bottom of the hamper. I tossed one to my 7 year old and upon putting them on he said, “where did you get these clothes?” My reply, “the hamper.” He said, “They smell dirty.” I said, “They are dirty!”

Case and point, It’s more important for me to be present than it is for me to be perfect. God showed me that through adrenal fatigue and I know that he will continue to show me, because I am not perfect and I never will be. And this morning after I kissed my husband goodbye, even though I have been fearful of crashing again, I knew that I was stronger, different, better than I was 4 years ago. And I know, that day after day, as long as I have breath in my body, I will keep showing up for my family.  Presence over perfection.

 

A Piece of My Life is Missing

It is Mother’s Day. I am blessed to have 3 beautiful, healthy, and energetic boys and 1 angel baby in heaven. But the thought I woke up with this morning was about my mom. She has been gone for nearly 8 years now and today it feels like there is a hole in my heart, that a piece of my life is missing.

My life has changed so much since my mom passed away and although the mourning/grieving has run it’s course and I feel that I have completed every stage, it’s like it comes back in waves, on birthday’s, holidays, mother’s day, at random times when I am in the car and a song comes on that reminds me of her, or when I’m doing dishes or laundry. A few months ago I was purging my basement and I found a stack of cards people sent me after she died and I sat in my basement and just sobbed while I was reading them.

My mom was my best friend, a feeling I never shared with her because while she was alive, quite frankly, she was a pain in my rear. I can say that without remorse because it is the truth and I know that I was a pain in hers too. She worried about everything and everyone all the time. She was loud. She liked to listen to the same songs over and over and over again. Did I mention how much she worried? She was a professional at it. But honestly, as I grew up, we grew closer and it was rare that a day passed that I didn’t talk to her on the phone. And then, she was gone. And while I have many close friends and several best friends, no one can take that place and no one can fill that void. Not my husband, not my kids, not my friends, not my sister, who feels the same loss, but feels it differently than I do. Nothing of this world can fill that hole in my heart, only God can. God gave us emotions and it is a beautiful thing. It allows us to be happy, joyful, and excited while it also allows us to feel anger and sadness. And it is ok to be sad. God has been sad too. And even though God can fill the hole, the loss is still there, because of the deep love I had for my mom. The loss will always be there, the hole will always be there, the sadness will always be there, God will always be there, and my hope in Him is what get’s me through those days of sadness.

Despite the sadness I had a choice to make today. I wanted to stay in bed and just be sad, just for today, but that wasn’t an option. My hubby was on a 24 today and being the awesome man that he is, he wouldn’t have allowed me to stay in bed and be sad even if he was home. So I put my big girl pants on, got out of bed and chose joy today. I prayed this morning and last night that I would love with everything I have and that I would be obedient to God. So I showered, made my kiddos breakfast and got us all to church. I hugged my kids a ton, showered them with appreciation for the homemade gifts and cards they made me at school and chose love at every turn because without my boys I wouldn’t be mom. However today is not called kid’s day, so I did spoil myself too. Instead of reheating leftovers I made my favorite foods(like bacon and things consisting of chocolate), veggies, because according to Logan’s all about my mom poster, my favorite food is salad(which is pretty accurate) and smoothies(chocolate). I put my pajamas on while lunch was cooking and after the dishes were done(only the pans, it’s mother’s day so we ate on paper plates of course) we settled down to my favorite movie, “Mom’s Night Out,” which if you haven’t seen it I highly recommend, and if you watch it with me, I will recite every line because the writer’s obviously read my mind when they made this movie. The main character is even a blogger(just sayin!). Followed by two rounds of Monopoly Junior with Evan, and then another funny movie, “Cheaper by the Dozen,” while Logan served my various play dough treats, followed by dinner. After dessert I chose a long story time, because one of my favorite things to do with my boys is read to them and while I have been skipping snuggles this week and even though it took longer to get through the bedtime routine, I snuggled each of my guys tonight and thanked them for being mine.

And after they went to bed, I texted my wonderful friend who lost her mom weeks before I lost mine(which is how we became friends-grieving buddies I guess) and said, “I miss my mom.” To which she responded, “I miss mine too.”

And I do, I just miss her today. But really it’s no different than any other day, just a deeper awareness because today has a label on it besides just Sunday, Mother’s Day. And knowing what I know, knowing how I felt today, I’d like to treat every day like today. With love, joy, and thankfulness.

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