Oorah

Telling people how I feel has never been something that I have ever been good at.  Usually something nags away at me until finally I have to write it down, whether it be an email, a text, or in some cases I blog and share with the rest of you a glimpse into me.

Weighing heavy on my heart lately is my nephew, Andrew. Andrew is a United States Marine.  He is headed overseas with fellow Marines for a high risk mission.  I have known for a while, but I guess I pushed it to the back of my brain because I am scared.

I am scared for Andrew for the danger he is in.  I am scared for his physical safety while defending our country.  I am scared for the things that he will see and experience there that will forever change who his is as a man.  I am scared for his Mother, who I know walks every step with crippling anxiety.  I am scared for his Father, who is so incredibly proud of his son, but is incredibly worried for him.  I am scared for his Sister, who I know would walk to the end of the earth for him.

I don't know when it happened, but somehow the little boy that closed his eyes wishing we would all disappear while we sang Happy Birthday to him turned into a man.  I still see him as that little blue eyed boy, and probably always will.

I am not an overtly religious person, but I hope that God, The Universe, or whatever is out there looks over Andrew and his fellow Marines and keeps them safe.  I wish a peaceful minds for our family.  I hope that the people of this country remember those who put themselves in danger and sacrifice for their freedoms.  I hope all the keyboard politicians remember the families that are effected.

Be safe Andrew. Aunt Julie loves you. 

Ten Years

Cancer. A word that floods most of us with emotions, almost all of them negative; sadness, loss, anger, fear, anguish. We travel through life dreading the word, hoping to never hear it and a loved ones name in the same sentence. But paired with one simple word, it means something completely amazing... "free". Cancer Free.

October 5th marks the ten year cancer free day for my sister in law Paula. I could not be more thrilled to celebrate this milestone for her. Sometimes, actually most of the time, I forget that she had breast cancer. But I know that she never does. I know that always, even in the most joyous of times, she has stored away in the corner of her mind the battle that she fought to get to that very moment. She is the rare person that brings light into a room, she has an oddly calming effect on the high strung people around her. I swear I honestly do not think I have ever heard her raise her voice, even while corralling very active twin boys. Paula has always listened, really listened, anytime she happened to be around while I was griping about something. I appreciate her advice and value her opinions.

Instead of all the other words that are associated with cancer, these are the words I think of when I celebrate this day in Paula's honor. Joy because she is here to tuck her babies in at night. Awe of her strength and determination. Admiration of her patience and serenity. Happiness that she is here to share a beautiful life with my brother. Pride in the Warrior that she is. Gratitude for Survivors like Paula and my Mom. Reverence for Strong women that have walked across the battlefield and emerged on the other side, not unscathed, but with knowledge of themselves and the strength they have within, beautiful scars and all. 

I am glad that you are who you are, Paula, because you are an incredible human being. Happy Ten Years! 

xoxo

"Okay Google" Define: Parent

par·ent

ˈ/perənt/

noun

1. 1.

   a father or mother.

   "the parents of the bride"

   synonyms:

   mother, father, birth/biological parent, progenitor; More

verb

1. 1.

   be or act as a mother or father to (someone).

   "the warmth and attention that are the hallmarks of good parenting"

   synonyms:

   raise, bring up, look after, take care of, rear; hand-rear "those who parent young children"

I haven't blogged in a long, long time. I supposed I just get busy doing things and time gets away from me. But sometimes I get a thought that runs through my mind over and over and I just can't shake it. Writing about it helps with that though, so here it goes...

Parent. Mother. Step Mother. Daughter. Grandmother. All of those words are deeply meaning full to me. All around me, I see people that I love and care for also fulfilling the role of Parent. But also around me I see people toss the opportunity away, sometimes flippantly, sometimes with unimaginable pain. Of course, none of it is none of my business, but it makes me thoughtful.

When I wasn't even legal drinking age, I was introduced to parenting. And it was hard. Harder that I ever thought it would be, and made even harder by the fact that this tiny person in my care wasn't biologically mine. I had no rights, no say. I also had no say in the fact that I came to love her like my own, and she is as special to me as any person in my life.  Somehow we figured it out as we went along, and I came to experience a relationship that was profound, rewarding, frustrating, heartbreaking and joyous. 

Then at 26, I gave birth to a tiny human that I did have all rights and say so for. And when I think too long about that, I am just as terrified by that today as I was that day. What if I make the wrong choices for her? What if I don't have the answer when she comes to me with an important question? Or worse, what if I give her the wrong answer? 

I have been very fortunate to have a partner in the Parent Game. For the most part we've been on the same page. Even when we haven't been, I know that we both want the very best for our girls in the end. They are both kind, smart, compassionate, loving people. I mean, in the end, isn't that what being a parent is about? Raising children to be productive members of society? 

I think parenting is more about guiding and helping children find themselves. Help them find what makes them happiest. Support them in their choices, whether you think it wise or not. Sometimes it means standing by and watching them pick themselves up from a fall and dust themselves off, even thought the only thing in the world you want is to pick them up and kiss all the hurt away. Being a parent means learning some hurts just can't be fixed with a Hello Kitty bandaid. That lesson has a lasting sting for both Parent and Child. Then you cross your fingers, shove them from the nest and pray they figure out how to flap their wings.

It's a cycle. Sometimes I forget the Daughter part. That my Mother has felt and feels all that same things I do. I get so busy being a Parent, I push the Daughter part to the back burner. I'm going to work on that. 

I can't imagine why a Parent would not want to be involved in every aspect of their child's life. It amazes me that they can just come and go from their child's life with absolutely no regard to the impact. For Pete's Sake, I worry about the impact of the smallest parenting decision's I've made! I feel pity for those Parents, because they are missing out on the most amazing experience life has to offer.

My Name is Julie. I am a Parent. I am a Mother. I am a Step Mother. I am a Daughter. I am Nanners.

And I still have no idea what I am doing. But I can guarantee you that I am going to keep trying my damnedest to figure it out.

An Open Letter to Fall Out Boy From The Mother of a Teenage Fan

I suppose that this could have been addressed to any band out there, but it isn’t.  It isn’t because she chose you. 

I’m not sure when it happens, but I suppose it happens to all teenagers and their mothers. The slow transition of introspective self isolation, when they start spending more time alone in their room, beginning the segregation of themselves from the crowd with the insertion of ear buds, the creeping feeling that the people who have nurtured them for their whole lives no longer understand them. So then we begin the awkward dance of what feels like interrogations over dinner and evasive answers because she is sure that I could never understand her. The worry on my part and the frustration on hers builds.

But I do understand her. I understand her because I remember myself what it felt like and what music meant to me when I was her age. When the pressures of growing up are drowning you and music feels like air in your lungs.  How when no one else understands and you can’t form the words to help them understand, that somehow that song, those lyrics GET it. She has connected with you, with your music, on a level that is personal and meaningful. When she isolates herself away and I look at her closed bedroom door, I can take solace in fact that you are there for her when she feels like no one else is.

You need to know that she is amazing. Beyond amazing. She is cuttingly witty and intelligent.  She is a marvelously talented classically instructed double bassist. When she is finished with her requisite scales, and measure after measure of complicated pieces, she decompresses by playing your music. She writes the notes down in a bound journal of lines that is tucked away in her case like a treasure.  She’s the kid in the orchestra pit with purple in her hair and black on black Vans.

I bought her tickets to your concert tour this summer. She didn’t ask for them because she was unsure if we would allow her to go.  It will be her first concert experience.  I bought them because I want her to know how it feels to stand in an arena with thousands of other people that feel just like her. To feel the bass in her feet, the drums thump in her chest, the sound of thousands of kids singing back the lines that she has connected with.  It is an experience that YouTube just cannot provide and it is the least I can do for her.

She is amazing. She is mighty. She is mine.

But she is also yours. You are the anthem of her youth, so Thank You.

Happy Mother's Day!

I have a wonderful Mom. She is simply amazing. She has always been there for me and has supported me, no matter what. She has taught me how to be a good wife, friend, mother and person.  I don't know what I would ever do without her!!

I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day!

Pantoufles

Dear Dad,

We opened the cabin this weekend.  Everyone works so hard to keep it the place you loved to be.  We love to be there, too.  I feel you there.  Everywhere I look, everything my eyes touch, reminds me of you.  The kids love it there.  I hope you laugh when you hear little voices filling the place to the roof with giggles and never ending questions.  But nothing makes me think of you more, makes me miss you as profoundly as when I see your pantoufles next to your side of the bed.  I move them every time I vacuum  but make sure I  put them back exactly where you left them.  It's been two years.  And I miss you just the same.

Love,

Julie

Hello Kitty Cake

I have always loved to cook, but I really love to bake. Making more decorative cakes is something I have thought about for a while now and recently I have really been getting into it.  Today was my day off and I found myself with no plans, so I decided to try making and using marshmallow fondant for the first time.  I was just messing around, but I am very proud of how it turned out!

Random Stream of Consciousness

• Being a grown up sucks sometimes.
• Being a kid wasn't always a picnic, either, and I have to remember that when I deal with my daughter's trials and tribulations. No matter how trivial they seem to me as a grown up.
• I hate feeling used.  It makes me feel like becoming the kind of person I really don't want to be.
• Wedgie free underwear is a lie. A horrible, uncomfortable lie.
• My newest favorite scent is Bath and Body Works Twilight Woods.
• I haven't spend enough time with my girlfriends and hope to remedy that in the very near future.
• Chelsea Handler is hilarious.
• My ice maker has begun making weirdly hollow ice cubes. I know that is probably an indication that there is something wrong with it, but as a habitual ice chewer, I have secretly rejoiced in my new "soft" ice cubes.
• The new Facebook Timeline confuses the hell out of me, but I switched it over because I'd rather feel like it was my choice and not theirs.
• I hate having my picture taken.
• I have 30 pens in a cup on my desk and only use one. Just one.
• I love Vince Guaraldi.
• I have been into WalMart to buy Just Dance for the Wii three times and came out all three times without it because I got distracted and forgot.
• I signed up for Netflix and have yet to see a new movie appear in the list of new releases.
• I hate grocery shopping but somehow end up in the grocery store four times a week or more.
• I love my daughter's new haircut, but she won't let me play with it or style it for her.
• I prefer my water room temperature.
• I think that my brother and sister in law should have at least two more babies.  They make really cute kids.
• I miss my Dad and think about him all the time. Sometimes it makes me cry, but a lot of times I laugh.  
• One of my greatest fears is forgetting the sound of his voice, but I can't bring myself to watch home movies with him in them to remind me.
• The foreclosure next door to us is under contract. I want very badly to tell whoever it is that the house is a pile of moldy shit. Not only because it is the truth, but because I really like having the driveway to ourselves.
• It makes me sad that cursive writing is becoming nearly obsolete, but almost never use it and almost always print.
• I always swallow my gum. Sometimes unconsciously/unintentionally before I am ready. That irritates me because I wasn't done with that piece!
• It amuses me when people put all their dirty laundry out then complain that people are looking at their  drawers.
• Speaking of drawers, it also amuses me that my hubby sews the fly on his boxers closed himself. It is hilarious to see him sitting with my sewing kit, needle, and thread.
• I compulsively chew my cuticles and fingers, but never my nails. I wish I could stop, but have yet to find an effective deterrent.
• I think I'll to start blogging more often. The internet doesn't have quite enough crap yet.

Happy 43rd Anniversary

"Love begins in a moment, grows over time, and lasts for eternity."

I have been incredibly fortunate in my life to have borne witness to what is most likely the greatest love story of my lifetime. Today marks my parent's 43rd wedding anniversary. My parent marriage was truly the most shining example of what the partnership of matrimony should be. Two young people falling in love and nurturing that love into something that blossoms year after year, despite the storms of life.

"True love stories never end."

It has only been seven months since Dad passed away. This is the first time in 48 years that Mom has been without him. I cannot begin to imagine the heaviness of her heart on this day, of them all. But I know that the love they share is truer, stronger and more magnificent than most people could ever even dream about. That kind of love has a buoyancy that rescues a heart from sinking in sorrow.

"I will not love you for the rest of your life, but for the rest of my life."

Yes, I am indeed fortunate to have had front row seats to the greatest love story ever told. There were no epic, sweeping musical numbers, no passionate kisses among crashing waves. Just two people who stood by each other, held each other's hand and walked together through all the experiences of a lifetime.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

I love you.

Veteran's Day

"A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself. "

Joseph Campbell

My shoulders have carried the weight of small troubles;

Your shoulders have borne the weight of a nation.

My heart has suffered the loss of few;

Your hearts have grieved the loss of many.

My sacrifices seem small, selfish and self serving;

Your sacrifices are selfless, righteous and noble.

Without me, there is no Mother, Daughter, Sister, Wife;

Without you, there is no Freedom, Independence, Choice, Liberty.

I am humbled, indebted and awestruck,

You are deserving of reverence, honor, gratitude and appreciation.

Thank you for being Heroes.

The Passing of Time...

One year ago tomorrow my Father underwent neurosurgery at Georgetown University to reduce the size of a tumor nestled in the frontal lobe of his brain.  I will never forget the feeling of sitting in the surgical waiting room dumping coffee into an already roiling stomach as we waited for the surgeon to tell us how the surgery went.  And I will never forget the words that the man in the black scrubs said that morning. "Glioblastoma Multiforme". Ugly words with even uglier implications.  But that morning we were ready to do battle with the monster, and my Dad put up one hell of a fight.

Grief is supposed to lighten with the passage of time.  But I have found it has just morphed and matured into various and different moments of sorrow; profound moments of absence, dull aching memories and sudden spontaneous tears of sadness. 

We miss you, Dad.

Dear Brittany Renee,

When you were just a little teeny thing with sticky Skittles hands, I loved you.
When you demanded your shoes "TIGHTER!" and I had callouses on my fingers, I loved you.
When you fell asleep on my shoulder because you refused to walk anywhere until you were at least 6, I loved you.
When you denied eating chocolate covered pretzels for breakfast with melted chocolate all over your face, I loved you.
When you asked me if you could have "banilla" ice cream for "berzert", I loved you.
When you batted those brown eyes and couldn't be denied anything you wanted, I loved you.
When you hit your teenage years and rolled those brown eyes and stomped your feet, I loved you.
When you found that very last nerve and kicked it, I loved you.
When you scared me to death learning to drive, I loved you.
When you grew up overnight (it felt like) and it was so very hard not to treat you like a kid, I loved you.
When you went to your 8th grade formal all pretty and grown up, I loved you.
When you walked across the stage and proudly accepted your diploma, I loved you.
When you were hurting and we all said things we regret, I still loved you.

I have always loved you, more than you could ever imagine in a million, trillion, gazillion years.  I have never stopped and since it's been this long, I can't really see any chance of me stopping anytime soon.  I don't know if there will ever be a day that you will fully understand what it is like to love a child, not because they are yours, but because they came to you as a gift with all the baggage, joy, laughter, tears, worry, smiles, triumphs and heartache that comes with them. I can only tell you that through all these years, I wouldn't change you for all the stars in the sky.

♥ Happy Birthday Brittany Renee! ♥

Love you tons and miss you more,

Me

Valleys and Mountains

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters. 

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death;

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

These words are spoken at nearly every funeral service I've been to, in one form or another.  These words are meant to be a source of comfort to those who have lost their loved one.  And for some people, maybe even most, they are.  

We are meant to take solace from these words telling us someone that we love is no longer hurting or in pain. They have been freed from all the terrible things that walking in this human life can bring.  Like Cancer.  Cancer is a wretched, slithering beast that sneaks into our lives and changes us forever in ways we cannot begin to fathom.  Even stories of triumph and victory slaying the beast leave behind the seed of sorrow and trepidation that makes visions of the future hazy, blurred and uncertain.  Cancer is indiscriminate and despicable.  It has no care or thought that the host it has chosen is a Mother, a Father, a Brother or Sister.  It can invade quickly and for a short time, or linger in it's reluctance to surrender.  But I know one thing about Cancer- it has stolen too much from me and mine.

One of my oldest and best friends lost her brother to Cancer this morning.  So while comfort is to be had from knowing that he is no longer suffering, Cancer leaves those who are left behind to bear the massive burden of anguish, sorrow and loss. What about us? The ones left behind? I tried to think of words of comfort for them, but while I still struggle under the weight of my own grief, I cannot.  There are no words.  But I know. I know how heavy your burden is and although mine is great, it has become lighter with time.  So I will take your burden as well, if you let me.  I would take the weight of grief onto my shoulder for all those that I love, it it were only possible, as I know they would do the same for me.

While we shall all walk in the valley in the shadow of death, it is okay to be afraid and to be angry.  You just have to hold out your hand and someone will be there to take it and walk with you to the mountain top.

Be at peace Patrick.

Summer, A Visual Definition

Photo and Responsibility for Creating these Handsome Creatures Credit: Paula

(and Tony, too)

Hot Summer Nights... ♪ and my radio ♪

I am sitting on my deck in my Old Lady rocking chair, (a birthday gift from my handsome husband), and enjoying the beautiful, breezy, seemingly stink bug free evening.  Life has become a smudgy, blurred passage of time for me lately, busy avoiding things I should be doing and putting off things until I find myself a rushing, manic, panicking hot mess.  Gearing up to expend the effort to piece together some semblance of organized normalcy, I have granted myself permission to enjoy this gorgeous weather and reflect on some things that make me happy about Summer. So here's my list, in no particular order, including but not limited to...

• Cookouts
• The smell of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil
• Longer days
• Earlier sunrises
• Spontaneous ice cream runs to Hoffmans
• Relaxed bedtime for Mac so she can hang out with us longer
• Holiday weekends at the cabin with the family
• Anything cooked on the grill
• Driving with the windows down
• Driving with the radio as loud as it will get
• The way the tree in my yard hugs the deck and gives us privacy from the road
• The way aforementioned tree gives shade to the deck
• Drinking coffee early in the morning outside
• Taking the dog bye bye for a ride in Mommy's car
• Beautiful outdoor weddings that remind you how sweet love is
• Strawberries, peaches and watermelon so ripe the juice runs down your hand and onto your arm
• Riding bikes with Mac
• Hanging by the pool with wonderful friends
• Easier commute in the morning
• Tiki torches
• Family birthdays
• Going to the race track
• Summer movie blockbusters (but not in 3D... makes me nauseous)
• How my sunglasses fog up when I leave work and step into the heat outside
• Birds singing
• Flip flops
• Pedicures and pretty toe polish colors
• S'mores

There is so much to love about this season!  Help me out... share a comment with what you love about Summer!

A Graduation, A Birthday, Some Tissues... Oh My!

Tomorrow marks two significant milestones for me. One is that I will witness my beautiful, sweet, brilliant, funny and genuinely remarkable baby girl "graduate" from elementary school.  The other is that tomorrow would have been my Father's 69th birthday.  Both bring me to tears just thinking about them.


I have attempted to prepare myself for these events, but even as I type this, I am reduced to a sniveling snotty mess.  I am not sure why the thought of my baby moving on to middle school has affected me so profoundly.  It is not solely because it means that she is growing up and there's not a danged thing I can do about it.  Don't get me wrong, that bothers me immensely, but that is not the only reason.  But the real reason seems intangible... inexplicable.  Is it because I know that there are challenges and difficultly on the horizon for her? That there are going to be lessons that she will need to learn that I simply cannot teach? Is it because I can no longer fix all the boo boos with a Mommy's kiss?  I do look forward to continuing to watch her grow and develop into a beautiful young woman.  I will always do the most that I can do to give her every opportunity and all the support that she needs to fulfill all of her limitless potential.  When you meet someone, get starry eyed, fall in love and decide to have a baby, no one tells you about this part of being a Mother.  Yes, midnight feedings are hard. Yes, changing diapers is hard.  But no one tells you how hard it is to suddenly turn around and be confronted with pomp and ceremonious proof that your little baby is growing up.

If my Father were here, he would most certainly be sitting with us tomorrow for this graduation from elementary school.  He would clap and smile and be just as proud as any Grandfather in that crowd could be.  And he would say that watching it would be a wonderful birthday present.  I miss him tremendously.  There is still a vast chasm of grief and sadness at his loss.  There are not many moments of the day that are not tinted with the color of that sorrow.  I wish that he were still here to celebrate his birthday.  I would make him fettuccine alfredo, Mom would make a cake, the kids would decorate it and light the candles.  He would blow them out and probably wish for something selfless and for his family.  We would stand in the car port and watch the babies run back and forth and remark at how amazing they are and he would scoop them each up and give them kisses and try to make them laugh.  And they would.  And I would give anything in the world to be able to hear that sound tomorrow.  Because birthdays around here are about family.  So tomorrow instead of all that, our family with gather in the chapel where Dad's ashes are kept safe and we will wish him a very, very Happy Birthday.

I will blow a candle out tomorrow in honor of my Dad's birthday and hope all his wishes for our family come true, starting with a certain baby girl's fifth grade graduation.

These Girls...

Smells and Sunsets

Yesterday on my drive home, I passed a landscape supply company and the earthy, rich smell of wood chips and mulch reminded me of Dad.  It was like a punch in the stomach and it took me the rest of my ride home to recover.

Then after dinner my daughter and I went for a bike ride on a path along a little stream not far from my house.  As I was pedaling on the footbridge that crosses the stream, I saw the sunset reflected on the water, and I knew that Dad was with me.

Happy Mother's Day

A Sonnet for My Incomparable Mother  I often contemplate my childhood, Mom.
I am a mother now, and so I know
Hard work is mixed together with the fun;
You learned that when you raised me long ago. I think of all the things you gave to me:
Sacrifice, devotion, love and tears,
Your heart, your mind, your energy and soul--
All these you spent on me throughout the years. You loved me with a never-failing love
You gave me strength and sweet security,
And then you did the hardest thing of all:
You let me separate and set me free. Every day, I try my best to be
A mother like the mom you were to me. By Joanna Fuchs

As I lounge in bed sipping coffee and nibbling breakfast pastries with my baby beside me, I am reflecting on Motherhood.  My Mother was the most incredible example for me.  She is patient, generous, loving, strong, capable, caring, and all the words in the world that equal the feeling you get from a warm hug from your Mom.  I love my Mother for all the gifts that she has given and all the lessons that she has taught me in my life.  I know that letting me live my life and make my own mistakes was so hard for her, but being the Mother that she is, she let me.  Then when it was time, she was always there to pick me up, dust me off and help me find the right way.  As a Mother now, I know that I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but I am so thankful and grateful that I have my Mother beside me to help me along the way.

I love you, Mom. 

Okay... So Now What?

As I sit in the warm Spring sunshine on my deck this morning I realize it is quiet, beautiful and the day is full of promise.  Naturally, I have been thinking about the loss of my Father, and how much of an adjustment it has been.  But not in the big, obvious, "my Father passed away" ways, but in the small, subtle ways that I never thought of before.  The way that I have to carefully change my words when I talk to my Mom and ask her if she lost power during the storms, instead of "did you guys" lose power.  The way that a picture in my living room catches my eye and I realize that I will never see that sideways glance my Dad gave us when someone was saying something he thought was a little crazy.

So now what?  All the out of town guests are gone, the services and ceremony are over, the food is consumed, and life is supposed to go back to "normal".  But it's not normal.  It's very, very different.  I know that I am not the only person to have ever lost a parent, but I am having trouble figuring out what the new "normal" is.  I feel like all of us are smothering my Mother, because this has to be indescribably difficult for her.  But part of that is our way of coping also.  It is not that we feel her incapable of doing things for herself, my Mother is the single most capable woman that I know.  But if we can do something around the house to make the absence of Dad easier, that is what we do.  I have never, ever cut the grass at my own house, but I find myself being more than willing to do so at hers, although my brother seems to have that completely under control... (Except, now that I think about it, I don't think he cuts his own his grass, either!)

The next two months, in particular, will be very hard for us.  Mother's Day, my birthday, Father's Day and his birthday are coming up.  His loss will be profound during these times.  I knew, but never comprehended, what a monumentally huge part of my life my Father's presence was.  I think of him so often and see him everywhere I look. I know that he, his influence in my life, and me as a person will be felt always.  I just hope that it doesn't ache like this forever.