Extended Family

I had the luxury of being home with my kids this summer. A few days of work scattered here and there but for the most part I was a full time Mom. Lazy days by the pool. Trips to Lake George or Vermont. Days spent just hanging around, knowing we had endless days ahead of us to spend together. It has been everything I hoped it could be and more.

I also had the privilege of having my parents live at the bottom of our driveway for most of the summer in their RV. In and out of the driveway I'd go, taking the kids here and there, waving at my folks on my way by. Stopping down for a mid-morning chat with my Mom. A family dinner on the back deck. Chats with my Dad about house stuff. It, too, was everything I hoped it could be.

Now, as the summer is coming to an end and the kids are headed back to school in a few days I find myself thinking a lot about this summer. I am so lucky. I will remember this summer and smile. My kids will tell stories of the summer their Grandparents lived with them. We made memories just being together.

Comfort Zone

Ok. It's time to get out of my comfort zone.

I'm a close to the vest kind of girl. I share but I'd rather listen. Blogging has been a big step forward for me. I enjoy writing and often feel better after I write. So why not jump in with both feet?

On Thursday I am heading down to BlogHer in New York City with two girls from the office. Both are avid bloggers with a lot more experience in the blogging world than me. I'm hoping to learn a lot and perhaps come out of my shell a little. It's scary, but in a good kind of way.

Here's to stepping out.

Living in the Moment

I have said the words myself.

Too many times to count.

I have counseled friends, family and even those I didn't really know, advising them to live in the moment, savor each precious second good or bad, be present.

And yet I have trouble actually doing it. There are days when I'm pretty good at it. Letting the daily chores go in favor of swimming with the kids. Leaving work projects for another day to sit quietly and read. But for the most part I am constantly thinking and anticipating what comes next. Living anywhere but in that moment.

There's been a fire.....

Life constantly tries to remind me that there are many more things out of my control than in my control but I do not listen. I'm too worried about what's going to happen later in the day, over the weekend or next month.

I've been in an accident....

I am stubborn. I think that by anticipating whats going to happen I'll be ready or prepared. That somehow things will be easier if I can just figure it all out. That I can certainly be doing things to accomplish just that much more.

We're going to have to let him go....

Why is it so hard for me to just be? To be thankful for whats happening right now. To be grateful for the ups and downs I've been handed. To cherish the infinite number of moments during the day when I am so blessedly lucky. Why must I always get caught up in the other stuff?

Will you marry me....

I have a wonderful life, filled with beautiful people, loving family and unbelievable memories. I have the most incredible husband who loves me more than I think I will ever know. We are best friends. He makes me laugh. He holds my hand and dries my tears.

It's a girl....

I have fantastic children. A daughter who is a lovely young lady with hopes, dreams, goals, talent and great sense of humor. She plays a mean violin and can hold her own on the piano. She will still hold my hand (at least when no one is looking) and has grades that could get her into an ivy league school. She is kind. She is considerate. She is beautiful.

It's a boy....

A son who is healthy, strong, athletic and respectful, with a great sense of humor. He is an avid fisherman and would opt for hours on the bank of a river for a video game any day of the week. He is smart and caring and he too, still holds my hand. He loves school, his friends and just hanging with his family. He is sweet. He is handsome.

It's going to be okay....

I am blessed.

I will try harder to be present for every breath, every laugh, every tear, every moment. Not because I've been told to or because I have a sign in my house that says so. But because it is these moments that have brought me to this one. It is these moments that have made me who I am. It is these moments that have given me my life.

I will try harder.

Rebuilding

There is a house that we are cheering for. One day this past December it burned, not to the ground, but close enough. We had been to Connecticut for the holidays and in the last few miles before our house we saw the black shell of the house that used to be there. We all took a breath, pausing as the memories came flooding back. Speechless we looked at each other wondering what had happened? How could this have happened? The last few minutes of the drive to our house were spent reliving the pain that exists from the day our life changed in an instant.

We don't know the people who own the house but in a way we are connected. Our house burned a few years ago. An accident. Candles on the porch. It happened at night and it happened swiftly. We got the kids out and the dog, then sat on the trail and watched our history and our memories go up in flames. Although time has passed, I am there feeling those emotions each time I pass this house. The feelings are bittersweet, sometimes more bitter than sweet. But we find ourselves celebrating each of the little victories that were so important to us.

The day they bulldozed what was left of the house.

The empty hole.

The foundation.

The walls.

The roof.

We cheer for this little house being built, remembering the walks through our house being built. Still reeling from the pain of our loss but somehow trying to fathom that this new structure was to be our home.

It is our home. These are our memories. The old house and the new house. The experience.

And we continue to cheer for that little house being built.

A constant reminder of all that we have to be thankful for.

Surgical strength

Ben had to have surgery on his ears. Again. His third surgery in 4 years and even though it is probably the smallest of the surgeries it was by far the hardest. At the ripe age of 10 Ben was fully aware of what would happen.

Rewind to the doctors office. It's like Ben knew this was a pivotal day. We'd been following up with the doctor frequently because his ears were getting progressively worse. Each time we'd get in the car the conversation was the same.

"Mom, what's he gonna do?"

"He's gonna look in your ears."

"Is that it? Is that all he's gonna do?"

"I don't know Ben. He needs to do what he needs to do."

"But what if he says I need surgery?"

Soothingly..."We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

The fact that Derek was with us on this particular trip is probably what tipped him off. He was apprehensive in the car and very quiet. While we were waiting for the doctor the games of I Spy and Bubble Gum we'd played on previous visits were of no interest to him. The doctor came in, did his exam and gave us the news. As he described the state of Ben's ears and the need for the surgery Ben sat quietly, a few large tears sneaking beneath his glasses. The date was set and the countdown to "the day" began.

There were times in these past few weeks when I would look and Ben and know that he was thinking about the surgery. A look in his eye would reveal his apprehension. Occasionally he'd ask: "How many days til my surgery?". I'd give him the answer and he'd shake his head.

The night before the surgery was brutal. We tried to keep him busy, keep his mind off of it but it was impossible. The next morning he was slow to get out of bed. He couldn't eat or drink anything so we all went without breakfast. When it was time to go I went to get him in his room and he was sitting silently, crying. I thought my heart would break.

The trip down was just as brutal with a few failed attempts to distract.

Finally we were there. Finally we were called in. As he undressed and got into the surgical gown he was trying so hard to keep it together. The tears were flowing but he was trying to be brave. He took the medicine and started to relax a little. It was time to for us to go. I gave him a hug, told him I loved him, and that I'd be there when he woke up. A few feet out the door I was a sobbing mess.

He did great. He is my brave little boy.

As tough as that day was for all of us it made me acutely aware of what's important. My family, our health and our love for one another. The pure emotion in that day won't soon be forgotten. I am so thankful for that day and for the way it made me feel.