Five Years Without My Mom

Tomorrow marks the five year anniversary of my mom's passing. I honestly can't even believe she's been gone five years. The days and months and then years just accumulate and before you know it it's been five. I've been busy raising children and living a life - a life that I so wish that she could be a part of. Although, that's only partially true. The last few years, and particularly months, of her life were filled with so many challenges. Her days were filled with doctors appointments where she never found any answers. Her furniture was slowly taken out to make room for walkers, wheelchairs, and eventually a hospital bed. Her days revolved around which medication she had taken and what she still needed to take. Medicine time was full of stress because since the muscles in her throat didn't work properly she often choked on the pills that didn't give her much relief anyway. It was a vicious cycle. She was completely dependent on other people which I know destroyed her a little more each day.

It was not the life that she wanted to live and although I would love to have her here with us I would never want to make her live that life again. I know that she is in a happier place now. I just wish that life could have turned out differently for her. I wish that she never had to be sick. I wish that her life was not full of so many struggles. I wish that she could be here healthy to see her grandchildren. I know just how happy they would make her.

But since you can't live a life full of just wishes I'll tell you what I do. I remember her. I tell stories to my children about how amazing she was. I remember how much she sacrificed for me. I remember her smile and her laugh. I'm inspired by what she accomplished given her limitations. Most importantly, I remember that on my darkest days she is pulling for me and loving me - even if I can't see her.

Me and my Mom in 2002 (It's a shame we don't look alike!)

Good-bye, Papa

Papa's 85th birthday party in February 2013

Last Wednesday, my grandfather passed away. While he had ongoing heart issues, the end came more quickly than I think anyone in my family expected. Before his death, he and my grandmother were still totally independent. Even at the age of 85, he was still living in the house with my grandmother that they had raised their four children in. He went to the hospital a few days before his death after battling a cold the week before. It turned out it wasn't a cold and was fluid around his heart. Although, my family was told that fluid buildup would ultimately be his demise it didn't appear that the end was so imminent. He was recovering in the hospital and they talked about sending him home shortly.

On Tuesday during the day, my cousins saw him and he was his usual self. He was giving the nurses a hard time, trying to get people to bring him a soda, and talking about going home. He then took a quick turn for the worse and passed away during the night. I was able to see him Tuesday night before he passed away. He was unresponsive but peaceful. When all is said and done, although we never want to lose anyone, this is how we want people to go. It was fast and peaceful. After watching my mother slowly deteriorate and have a horrible final week, I can really appreciate this ending. I would never want my grandmother to watch her husband of 62 years slowly fade away in front of her. Learning to live a life without him will be hard enough for her.

In times of struggle though I'm reminded of the amazing people in my life. I have friends that I don't need to ask for help because they've already offered. Friends that rearrange their days and schedules so that they could babysit for his services. Friends who leave wine and chocolate at my doorstep. Family who sends flowers and cards. These people shine the light in the darkness. These people are incredible and give me the time and tools to mourn an incredible man. So to everyone who has helped me this past week either in person or sending positive thoughts and prayers, I send a big thank you to you. It is most appreciated by me and my family.

Happy Birthday, Daniel

Today is my youngest's third birthday. Yup, Daniel is THREE! How is that even possible? For a long time he was known as "Baby D" but those days are long gone. He has suddenly (and what seems like overnight) become a total big kid. He uses the potty, he napped today without his binkies, and he's heading to preschool in the fall. My big kid had a great morning at music class and a pirate-rific party this afternoon with his friends. We're now about to whip up his requested birthday dinner - tacos!

Happy, happy, birthday to my wild and crazy kid who keeps me on my toes and drives me crazy has taught me patience!

Just can't get enough of Daniel? You can check out the story of his arrival to the world HERE and check out his first year in pictures HERE. Where does the time go??

A Supportive Husband By Your Side

My grandmother once told me that you can get through anything in life with a supportive husband by your side. Although it may sound like an old school approach to life, I often think about her comment. I know that tons of women accomplish amazing things without a husband (I was raised by a single mom) but I consider myself very lucky to have found a great guy to call my husband.

Today is the seven year anniversary of when we first said "I do." It's the seven year anniversary of the day he became that supportive husband by my side. In those years we've had times that were stressful, joyful, terrifying, amazing, and heartbreaking. I've been able to laugh with him, lean on him, and talk incessantly to him about things that he has no interest in hearing about. So today, I'm wishing a very happy anniversary to my husband. Here's to 7 more years- okay, maybe 70 more!

Remebering Today and Everyday

Four years ago today, my mom passed away. Sometimes it feels like it's been forever since I heard her voice...heard her laugh. Other times it seems like just yesterday that I was sitting across the kitchen table from her. The more I grow as a mother the more I realize how amazing she was. Thinking of her today...and everyday.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering where I got my love of goofy pictures, see below :)

My Mom (May 1981)

Proposals Aren’t Always Perfect

I woke up and hopped in the shower like any other morning. That day was special though because Tim and I were going to be celebrating a belated Valentine’s Day. Tim had planned out our day and it was a surprise for me. After the shower, I went to put my jeans on and they were missing – not in the drawer where I knew they should be. I checked the hamper and a few other spots and they were nowhere to be found. These were my go-to Saturday jeans and like any normal person I started to flip out and tear the apartment apart. Tim insisted that we would find them and to just wear another pair. The way he was reacting was odd – he didn’t seem to get that they were truly MISSING. Like someone stole them during the night missing. I eventually decided to let it go and we hopped in the car to Newport, RI.

It was a cold, COLD day in February and we stopped to look at the ocean. It was beautiful - from the car that is. When he asked if I wanted to get out and walk around every ounce of me wanted to shout, “NOOOOOO!!!” but then I started to wonder if he was going to propose. We had been together for two and a half years, we lived together, and getting engaged was definitely on the radar. I couldn’t risk being “that girl” who refused to get out of the car when her boyfriend was trying to be romantic and propose. So we got out and walked around for a bit but it was so cold. The wind was whipping and I had tears running down my cheeks. When no ring appeared in sight I said it was time to go back to the car.

It turns out though that there was a ring. Tim did plan on proposing but the ridiculous wind and subzero temperatures dampened his plan. We then headed to one of the historic mansions and went on a tour. I walked around enjoying it while Tim stressed the whole time looking for a new spot to propose. However, it was a guided tour and they don’t just let you run amuck and have alone, private, proposing time. So now the mansion had come and gone and the ring was burning a hole in his pocket.

We left the mansion and I thought we were heading home but instead he turned in to the driveway of a Bed and Breakfast. We got to the front door and it was locked. We rang the doorbell and no one came. We rang again and again and still no one came. It’s kind of a miracle that Tim kept his cool at this point. We ended up going back to the car and after about twenty minutes, he was finally able to get through on the phone and they unlocked the door for us. Apparently, they were upstairs on the phone and didn’t hear the bell. We finally checked in and got to our room. I walked in and heard the door slam behind and Tim quickly said, “Sit down on the bed, I need to ask you something!” I think he thought that if he didn’t ask RIGHT away that some other interference would occur. He proposed and I (obviously) said yes. It was not the picture perfect, ocean side proposal that he had planned but it made a perfect memory for us. It was also exactly seven years ago today.

Oh, and I found my jeans in the bag that he had secretly packed for me for our weekend away! :)

Our tickets from the mansion tour and a soap wrapper from the B&B

How the Memory of my Mom Lives on in a Bear

My mother passed away the morning of March 1, 2009. Later that day, I had to choose the outfit that she would be buried in. I went back and forth between two of her nicer outfits. I ultimately chose the one that had a sweater with it because I didn’t want her to be cold. The practical side of me knew that the temperature was really no concern for her anymore. The irrational side of me never wanted to worry that she was cold. I looked for the pants that matched the sweater but I couldn’t find them. I remember looking over at her bed where just hours earlier I had listened to her take her last breath and wanting so desperately to ask her where the pants were. It was the first time that I had a question for her and I knew I would never know the answer.  I felt an emptiness inside of me that would never be filled.

As the days went on we cleaned out her house and divided up her belongings. I took with me a stuffed animal bear that I knew had a name. The problem was I couldn’t for the life of me remember what that name was. I looked at him over and over again questioning what she had called him. I came up with a name that I thought it might be. It sounded familiar. However, I knew that I could never call him a name that might not be his real name. Every time I said it I would question if my mother was shuddering in Heaven while her daughter called her beloved bear by the wrong name.

I decided the next best thing to do was to give him a new name. I knew if I was renaming him it had to be a name that immediately made me think of my mom. That name is Barnabas. My mother’s favorite show when she was in junior high was the soap opera Dark Shadows (you may know the 2012 movie remake).  Her favorite character was named Barnabas. In the late 90s/early 2000s, the series was rerun on the Sci-Fi channel. My mother would record the episodes during the day and once a month have her two girlfriends from junior high over. They would watch the episodes, eat popcorn, talk, and laugh. It became known as “Dark Shadows Night” at our house and my mother always looked forward to it. Barnabas - that would be his new name.

Henry (who was only two months old when my mother passed) inherited Barnabas the bear. He has slept with him every night since he was a baby. Last week, Henry had pajama day at school and could bring in one special stuffed animal with him. Of course, he chose Barnabas. When we got to school Henry’s teacher asked him if his bear had a name. He said, “His name is Barnabas. He’s extra special because Grammy gave him to me. She’s in Heaven now.”  It was at that moment that I knew for sure I had given the bear the right name. 

Henry and Barnabas ready for Pajama Day!

Until Death Do Us Part

Tomorrow marks the 33rd anniversary of my father’s passing. It’s always easy for me to remember how many years it has been since it’s always how old I am at the time. He passed away just two months after I was born.

I always felt a little sorry for myself – growing up without a dad. Nowadays, a lot of children don’t have fathers in their lives but way back then most people had a mom and a dad. I felt like I was missing out on “dad” stuff. I imagined how awesome my dad was and how we would be living the most cool life ever if only he was alive. As a parent now, I realize it wasn’t me that anyone (including myself) should have ever felt bad for – it was my dad and mom.

I can’t imagine having a pregnant wife and learning that I had Melanoma Skin Cancer. I can’t imagine battling through chemo and surgery during a time when I should be happily painting a nursery. I can’t imagine missing the birth of my child because I was in the hospital fighting for life. I can’t imagine knowing that I would miss my child’s first words, first steps, and every step after that. I can’t imagine knowing that I would be leaving behind my beloved wife with a two year old and a two month old to take care of on her own. It is all simply unimaginable yet it’s what he had to deal with.

As for my mother, I can’t imagine caring for a toddler, carrying a baby inside of me, and watching my husband die. I can’t imagine the sorrow and the fright of not knowing what my future holds. I can’t imagine knowing my husband would never walk through the door again. I can’t imagine knowing that I had to do it all on my own. I can’t imagine not getting my happily ever after.

The whole situation was really just horrible. It’s only now as an adult (and parent) that I truly recognize how remarkable they both were. I only wish they were here for me to tell them.

A note my father wrote to my mother in college. She saved it and then passed it along to me.

My 12 Favorite Pics of 2012!

With the ending of another year, I went through and picked my favorite picture for each month in 2012!

January 2012: Isabelle and her beloved Dolly taking a ride to visit their new cousin, Scarlett.

February 2012: Annie and I had the time of our lives at Blissdom and got to meet Rascal Flatts!

March 2012: Best bunny picture ever.

April 2012: Daniel loves Sour Cream and Onion Dip as much as I do.

May 2012: My Three Monkeys

June 2012:  The kids enjoying our (then) newly completed swingset!

July 2012: Summer ice cream at its finest!

August 2012: Henry having some beach fun!

September 2012: This year we were able to celebrate my husband's great aunt's 100th birthday!

October 2012: Happy Halloween!

November 2012: This is Henry and his favorite cousin, Sammy. Both are notorious bad picture takers and in this one they appear drunk on juice boxes. I love it!

December 2012: Does the Henry hug get any cuter?

Wishing everyone a happy and healthy New Year!

My Life In Numbers

33 – The number of years I’ve been alive
  

7 – The number of towns/cities that I’ve lived in.

1 – The number of siblings I have

12 – The number of siblings my husband has

14 – My favorite number

1 – The number of tattoos that I have

90210 – One of my favorite shows of all time

2- The number of times I’ve been engaged

1 – The number of times I’ve been married

3.5 – The number of months I was engaged to my husband before we said “I do”

52 – Average number of times I check Facebook in a day

12 – The number of months I’ve been blogging

5 – Number of people who live in our house

3 – Number of bedrooms we have in our house

5- The age of my oldest

2 – The age of my youngest

14 – The number of months between my oldest and middle child

19 – The number of months between my middle and youngest child

0 – The number of epidurals/pain meds I received in labor

0 – The number of parents of mine that are still alive

2 – The number of grandparents of mine that are still alive

27 – The number of times a day I wish I had a maid

5 – The number of binkies I let Daniel sleep with each night

10 – The number of books each child needs in their bed at night or they complain (Note: none of them can read)

5 – The number of days per week that I refrain from strangling my children when trying to get out the door to school

9 – The number of times I yell “Stop yelling!” at the children each day

4 – The number of days in a row that I’ve had turkey and stuffing sandwiches for lunch

7 – The number of missing Barbie shoes that roam our house.

27 – The approximate number of Cheerios in our couch cushions

32 –The number of times a day I dream of going to Target alone

27 - Number of times this year I've dressed up in silly costumes and had my picture taken

I’m linking up with Greta at G*Funk*Ified for this post! 

What are your numbers? 

*Photo credit Woven

My One Year Blogiversary!

Today marks the one year anniversary of my blog! Okay, okay it’s not actually today. It was November 2^nd and I totally missed it. I’m sure if the blog could it would totally divorce me over my insensitivity of missing our big milestone. Since I call the shots here though, I’m pretending it’s today and sending up virtual confetti, lots of pink balloons, party horns are a blowin’ and cupcakes are plentiful.

When I wrote my first post, I didn’t really know what to expect. I didn’t know where this adventure would take me. Frankly, I didn’t know if anyone would read or if it would last. Well I’m happy to report a year later that I’m so glad that I dove in the deep end. I’ve found an amazing community of bloggers.  I’ve made great friends both online and in real life. I’ve had the privilege of attending two blogging conferences and met amazing people there. I’ve been able to attend awesome events, review great products, and share my thoughts with you. Speaking of you, THANK YOU. Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for sharing my journey with me.

This marks my 178^th post (not bad for a year) and I look forward to the next 178+. I hope you’ll stick around for the ride!

Ghosts and Goblins Make Me Mushy

Growing up, I lived in a household and a neighborhood that loved Halloween. I’m talking about graveyards set up in front yards, fog machines, parties, decorations, and candy galore. I didn’t realize until I moved away that that kind of stuff is not the norm. I didn’t realize that not everyone’s parents dressed in costumes, not everyone had 100 trick or treaters come to the door, and not everyone went “all out” for the occasion.

When my husband was first introduced to our Halloween festivities he thought we were crazy. He came from a house where you decorated for fall (not necessarily Halloween) with indian corn and mums. We decorated with skulls and fake blood -to each their own I guess. Now as a grown up myself (umm...when did that happen?) I find myself teetering in between the two worlds. We have mums on our doorstep and our house is not decorated like crazy (in my opinion). Although my husband recently said, “I’ve never seen so many Halloween decorations.” Of course, I had just been thinking maybe we need more so maybe I am crazy (like my mom), after all.

I’ve heard a lot of people say that they don’t like Halloween which is fine. Not everyone has to love everything and to be honest I wouldn’t say that I LOVE Halloween. What I love are the memories that I have of it. The memories of happy times with my mom who is no longer here to celebrate. So when you’re schlepping your kid from party to party, or parade to parade, or house to house, keep in mind that these might just be the times that your child looks back on and remembers fondly. These could be some of the times that mattered the most to them when you’re gone.

Happy Halloween from my crew to yours!