Tuesday was like most days: I woke up around 4:30, had a cup of coffee, and glanced at the paper my husband left on the kitchen table.
I did my mom check of the backpacks, wrote the notes for the kids' teachers, and put snacks into the bags of my second grader and kindergartener.
Usually, I shower and get dressed. But, I was so sleepy that I went back to bed.
I never worry about going back to bed. I have an internal clock that wakes me when I need to get up. If that fails, my husband is usually up around 5:30-6:00 so he can catch his train. It's a no-fail system.
Except for Tuesday.
I awoke with a pleasant feeling from a dream with my husband. (I think George Clooney was in the dream too, but, don't tell my husband.)
Then I see the clock on the TV--6:55.
My sleepy brain quickly wakes up. The internal mom list goes off in my head. Lizzy's bus will be here at 7:25... Peter's at 7:35... What day is it? Tuesday. Early chorus rehearsal for Tom. He has to be in by 7:45.
No one is up.
This is not good.
"Joe. You picked a Tuesday to forget to set your alarm" was the loving way I woke my husband.
"OK. Everybody wake up," I yell as I throw on my clothes and splash water on my face. No time for even the smallest amount of makeup. I don't even have time to comb my hair.
I wake my special-needs daughter, which can be tricky.
"Lizzy, we have to get up, now. We're late. Come on honey." I put a warm cloth on her face, direct her to the bathroom, get her clothes, get her dressed.
No time for her to do it herself today. Quickly, quickly. I help her put the leggings on her long legs that I am very envious of.
"Lizzy, we'll wear the pink dress today," I say in my cheery, try-not-to-panic, mommy voice.
"Pink dress," she replies.
Now her hair.
"That hurts," she says in a pretty loud voice. I know what's coming next.
"I live in fairy land" in an even louder voice.
"Lizzy, no fairy land, the bus is going to be here."
I rush to the kitchen and quickly give her some juice and her medications. I say to myself, 1 pink pill, 1/2 a green pill.
"Do you want some cereal?"
"Yes."
I get two bowls and fill with Cheerios. Milk for her, no milk for Peter.
I now get Peter, my youngest up.
"Wakey, wakey, we are in a rush. We have to move now. The bus will be here soon."
"I don't want to go to school. I want to stay with you." His new morning saying.
"Peter, we are going to school." This is said in my I've-had-enough mommy voice.
"I want something to eat," another new phrase we say a lot.
"I have cereal at the table. Sit next to Lizzy."
"I don't want cereal. I want something to eat."
"Peter, this is not a diner. We have cereal today or nothing."
"OK mommy." I love that kid.
Now I am running around and yelling at my oldest to get ready.
"I can't wake up mom. I am sooo sorry."
"No sorry, no sorry, just wake up." This is said in my I-wonder-how-much-I-could-sell-you-for mommy voice.
The clock says 7:20.
Wait outside with Lizzy for her bus.
"Princess Lizzy, your chariot awaits," is the greeting she gets from the aide on her bus. I smile and say a quick hello to both him and the bus driver. Lizzy smiles, kisses me from the window with the help of the bus aide. And she is off.
One down.
Now I check Peter. His coat is on. Great. Yell at oldest again.
"Thomas, you are going to chorus rehearsal whether you are dressed or not. For all that is holy, please move your tail." (I didn't really say tail. I'm a mom, not a saint.)
Now I wait outside with Peter. He is pretty happy, even though he was carrying on 10 minutes ago that he was going back to bed. I like that about him. His bus comes. Get him on the bus.
"Bye mommy. I love you."
My day is made! We blow a kiss to each other.
Two down.
"Joe since your car is blocking mine, can you take Tom to chorus?"
"I'm leaving now." Mind you he is in his underwear.
"That's fine honey." 18 years of marriage, I know when to say something and when not to.
Five more minutes they are off.
I herd them off to the door as if they are cattle.
"Remember, I have my club today, I need to be picked up at 5:00."
"Yes, I know, have a good day."
"You too, mom. I love you."
I adore that kid.
My husband and I share a very quick kiss.
"I drop him off at the front for Chorus, right" my husband says getting into the car.
"Yes. Goodbye, I love you" I yell from my front door.
"I love you too."
I love that man.
Everybody's out. I pour more coffee in my Mom cup.
Amen.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
What's so Funny
About 10 years ago my husband and I were driving to our new home. We were getting ready to move in and packing up the house we had been renting in Queens. All of a sudden I had a thought and just started to laugh hysterically.
"Why are you laughing?" my husband said, starting to laugh himself.
"Well, I was just thinking. You know how when something bad happens in your life, and you say to yourself, 'Well, it could be worse. I could be so-and-so.' You do realize that everyone who got laid off in your office is saying to themselves today, 'It could be worse. I could be Joe and his wife!'"
Then we both just started hysterically laughing.
We had just bought our first house; we had a two-and-half-year-old son; and I was five months pregnant with our daughter.
Five days after we closed on a $300,000 mortgage, my husband was painting the bedrooms so we could move in. Then his boss called at 9:00 p.m.
The bursting of the dot.com bubble was taking a toll on the publishing business, and my husband's company decided it was time to cut back. The cutbacks consisted of the head of the online business and 30 employees, including my husband's boss and, of course, my husband.
Most people would not be laughing at this point in life, and trust me, I had many, many sleepless nights and panicked days. But, as serious as it was, it was almost comical that this was happening.
It took us eight years to save for a house because we wanted to be completely prepared for the purchase. Because, as we were famous for saying, you never know, you could buy a house one day and lose your job the next!
The dark humor in the situation was just too much. Even in my most panicked state, I had to admit it was funny. I kept thinking of the phrase, "We plan, God laughs."
I don't believe that God sits up in heaven and says, "Gee. Kathy and Joe have planned out everything so nicely. They are expecting their second child. They just bought the house. Good for them. You know, it's a little boring, why don't I just yank the rug from underneath them and see what they do."
But, life sure does have a way of twisting and turning. For me, it helps to believe that when I have a strong fear or feeling about something, it is my way of saying to God or the universe, this is something I need to work on.
Now my husband thinks my feelings are crazy when it comes to this issue. As he sees it, life is random, and faith is there to help you ride it out.
Even though we view things differently, we were able to weather the storm together. We had some savings left, and my husband's skills as a writer meant he could freelance while looking for a new job. Plus, we're fortunate to have great parents and strong family support.
At times, we panicked and said, "Why us?" But most times, we saw what we needed to do and did it, and we laughed...a lot more than we cried.
I wouldn't want to go through it again, but the experience of living through one of your worst fears is a powerful gift. And I think it's one of the best gifts we can pass on to our kids.
How to survive when the world seems to be caving in on you is a gift my husband and I received from our own parents.
Their lessons and strength had to be in both of us when we suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, when Joe lost his job, and today when we deal with a child with very serious, life-altering disabilities.
I am grateful for the ability to laugh and for marrying a man with the same offbeat sense of humor.
I sincerely hope that it's the one real gift we leave to our own precious children. Unlike money and possessions, the gift of survival and humor in the face of adversity is a gift no one can take from us. And, it's recession proof.
"Why are you laughing?" my husband said, starting to laugh himself.
"Well, I was just thinking. You know how when something bad happens in your life, and you say to yourself, 'Well, it could be worse. I could be so-and-so.' You do realize that everyone who got laid off in your office is saying to themselves today, 'It could be worse. I could be Joe and his wife!'"
Then we both just started hysterically laughing.
We had just bought our first house; we had a two-and-half-year-old son; and I was five months pregnant with our daughter.
Five days after we closed on a $300,000 mortgage, my husband was painting the bedrooms so we could move in. Then his boss called at 9:00 p.m.
The bursting of the dot.com bubble was taking a toll on the publishing business, and my husband's company decided it was time to cut back. The cutbacks consisted of the head of the online business and 30 employees, including my husband's boss and, of course, my husband.
Most people would not be laughing at this point in life, and trust me, I had many, many sleepless nights and panicked days. But, as serious as it was, it was almost comical that this was happening.
It took us eight years to save for a house because we wanted to be completely prepared for the purchase. Because, as we were famous for saying, you never know, you could buy a house one day and lose your job the next!
The dark humor in the situation was just too much. Even in my most panicked state, I had to admit it was funny. I kept thinking of the phrase, "We plan, God laughs."
I don't believe that God sits up in heaven and says, "Gee. Kathy and Joe have planned out everything so nicely. They are expecting their second child. They just bought the house. Good for them. You know, it's a little boring, why don't I just yank the rug from underneath them and see what they do."
But, life sure does have a way of twisting and turning. For me, it helps to believe that when I have a strong fear or feeling about something, it is my way of saying to God or the universe, this is something I need to work on.
Now my husband thinks my feelings are crazy when it comes to this issue. As he sees it, life is random, and faith is there to help you ride it out.
Even though we view things differently, we were able to weather the storm together. We had some savings left, and my husband's skills as a writer meant he could freelance while looking for a new job. Plus, we're fortunate to have great parents and strong family support.
At times, we panicked and said, "Why us?" But most times, we saw what we needed to do and did it, and we laughed...a lot more than we cried.
I wouldn't want to go through it again, but the experience of living through one of your worst fears is a powerful gift. And I think it's one of the best gifts we can pass on to our kids.
How to survive when the world seems to be caving in on you is a gift my husband and I received from our own parents.
Their lessons and strength had to be in both of us when we suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, when Joe lost his job, and today when we deal with a child with very serious, life-altering disabilities.
I am grateful for the ability to laugh and for marrying a man with the same offbeat sense of humor.
I sincerely hope that it's the one real gift we leave to our own precious children. Unlike money and possessions, the gift of survival and humor in the face of adversity is a gift no one can take from us. And, it's recession proof.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
No Place Like Home
For a few days this week, I visited a place I haven't been in years... NoKidLand.
For four nights I slept in a bed with my husband with no children trying to sneak in between us. We even had a chance to share a kiss without anyone claiming we had emotionally scarred them for life.
No one woke me at 4:30 with a box of cereal or requests for toast, with butter. At no time did anyone spit their food in my hand or give me a half eaten apple to throw out for them.
It was heaven. It was blissful. It was the life my husband and I shared for almost six years.
We lived in my favorite place in the world, New York City. Although our one bedroom apartment wasn't large, it was on the 26th floor. I could look out my window and see the lights of the city, and it always thrilled me.
My husband and I had only ourselves to worry about. We took long walks on Madison Avenue or through Central Park on weekends. If we wanted to go to a movie or out to dinner we did. We had no responsibilities beyond our jobs and our cat.
Funny thing though, as much as I enjoyed our life, I wanted more. I desperately wanted to go to KidLand. I would look enviously at women who pushed baby carriages or were obviously pregnant.
Manhattan is famous for beautiful shops filled with designer clothing, jewelry and shoes, but I would drool over the baby shops, the maternity stores, the toy stores.
When three years into our marriage I found out I was pregnant I was overjoyed. I felt as if I was given the keys to a world I always wanted to enter. Our apartment barely had enough room for our cat, my husband, and myself, but I started planning for where our new baby would sleep.
I even took a certain amount of pleasure from having to throw-up while walking down a city street with my husband. We were going to have a baby.
When at 10 weeks we found ourselves at our obstetrician's office looking at a sonogram with no heartbeat, I was devastated. I still remember the day I had my D&C. My husband and I praying together in a small room that tried to be homey with dried flowers which only seemed to remind me that nothing was alive anymore.
Lying on the operating table, the anesthesiologist asked me to think of something happy. I started to cry because the only thing I could think of was a beautiful baby and a nursery. My doctor looked at my tears, and sensing what I was thinking, quietly said, "Kathy, think of a beautiful beach on Hawaii."
Three more times I would have the joy of seeing a positive pregnancy test only to be devastated two or three weeks later when those pregnancies ended as well. Why me? Why us?
After a little more than a year, four miscarriages, and infertility treatments, my husband and I deiced to end the baby dance. We started to research adoption. We had recently moved to a house in Queens, and the room we had painted blue for a nursery started to seem like a good place for a guest room.
Imagine our surprise when only about a month after ending our fertility treatments we were back in the office looking at a strong heartbeat. We were pregnant!
Each week, I held my breath as the doctor would do an ultrasound and each week I would leave the office feeling exhilarated. I promised myself I would enjoy every minute of my pregnancy and every minute of motherhood. Morining sickness, heartburn, and dirty diapers were the things that dreams were made of.
Three kids and twelve years later we are as far into KidLand as we can be. The chaos of the morning routine, the seemingly endless trips to the pediatrician with a sick child, and the bouts of tween attitude seem like a small price to pay for the other wonderful things KidLand offers.
The wet kisses my five year-old gives me. The look of pure pride on my special-needs daughter's face when she shows me the outfit she dressed herself in. Or the quiet conservations my oldest son and I have over hot chocolate and coffee before school. I love the whole messy package and am grateful for each day.
I would be lying, though, if I didn't admit that sometimes the memories of my old life call to me. Especially when I remember eating a meal in peace or taking a shower without someone asking me if I've seen their shoes.
And, it was lovely to be in a hotel room with my husband and know that nobody was going to knock on the door and ask what we were doing in there. To feel free to read, go for a walk, or deep condition my hair.
NoKidLand was a wonderful place to re-visit, but, I am so glad Kathy doesn't live there anymore.
What a Thrill!
 |
| Thank you so much http://www.slepperymind.blogspot.com/ for giving this Award to me! |
In order to completely except this Award it is asked of it's recipients to do a few things.
- Thank and link back to the person that has given you this award.
- Share 7 thing's about yourself
- Award 10-15 blogs you feel deserve the award
- Contact these bloggers and let then know about the award.
MoMolgue http://www.themomologue.blogspot.com/
My Life Stories http://www.lsp-projects.blogspot.com/
My Journey Through Motherhood http://www.myfragileboy.blogspot.com/
The Sheep's Nest http://www.thesheepsnest.blogspot.com/
Snippets & Scraps by DeeDee http://www.snippetsscrapsbydeedee.blogspot.com/
Our House of Pink http://www.giraldohouseofpink.blogspot.com/
Martyr-hood http://www.rominagarciamartyrhood.blogspot.com/
Henry Happened http://www.henryhappened.blogspot.com/
From the Mudroom http://www.sospouse.blogspot.com/
A Mom's Road Goes Ever On http://www.thenerdmom.blogspot.com/
To my favorite blogs - to competely accept this award please follow the first four steps that I did! Thanks!
Now the 7 things about me!
- I am a huge Mad Man fan
- I met my husband on a blind date
- My mother originally named me Christina but her mother threatened never to speak with her again so I'm named after my grandmother Catherine. My mother did rebelle a bit though and spelled it with a K
- I had a goldfish named Dorothy that lived for three years
- One of my favorite possessions is a large crystal rock that use to be in my mothers garden. She gave it to me when I started to get obsessed with gardening
- I didn't have an email address till this September. I never wanted one and only got it because my children's schools are completely paperless now. Who would have thought I would become a mommy blogger!
- I never told anybody (except my husband and my friend Maria) that I wanted to be a writer till I started my blog in November. (I started on blogspot in January)
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Mommys Little Builder
My youngest child Peter is a marvel at building with blocks, train tracks, vegetables, paper cups, and anything else he can get his hands on. This may be fairly common for most five-year-olds, but it is very foreign in our family of five.
"Mom, do you think it's possible he was switched at birth?" my oldest, Tom, asked.
This was after Peter had set up his trains all over our playroom. He had complex structures set up with bridges and towers. It was amazing to behold.
"No honey, he was not switched at birth."
I completely knew what he was thinking though.
Poor Tom. He can name every President, knows every song the Beatles ever recorded, and can even outsmart his father over what baseball team won the World Series in any given year. But he couldn't build a tower if his life depended on it.
He has the hardest time with fine motor skills, as do I and his father. We are definitely challenged when it comes to hand-eye coordination or whatever is required to build even the simplest structures
"The apple does not fall far from the trees," is an expression I use often in notes to my children's teachers. I'm not used to one of my kids having a talent that is so foreign to his parentage.
He is my son though. He proved this a few minutes later the same day his brother was worried about a possible birth switch.
"Peter, what is wrong, why are you so upset," I say as I'm running down the stairs afraid that he fell or that his brother or sister were on top of him "playing."
"We did nothing to him," was my greeting from Thing One and Thing Two.
"He has this whole thing built and he couldn't get one little piece to fit and he completely lost it," Tom said.
"Well, you see honey, he is my child!" was my somewhat relieved response.
I may not be able to build, but I can certainly relate to at least wanting to lose it when something I've been working on does not go the way I want it to. My parents love to tell some legendary stories of how I would rip up a picture if I didn't think it was just right.
Perfectionism has always been my middle name. And apparently it is Peter's as well. It's funny how much our children can take after us and baffling when they have traits we never dreamed we could produce.
Since I always felt a bit like a misfit, I was hoping that my children would possess traits I so sorely lacked. I felt that if my kids could run fast, play ball, or dance well, their lives would go smoothly.
I certainly hoped that my poor test taking and my dyslexia would skip a generation or two . I figured that since my husband got a 750 on his math SAT, it was possible that one of our children wouldn't struggle in school as I did.
So far that theory hasn't worked out so well. All three of our children have had to deal with different learning issues. Tom seems to have inherited my dyslexia and poor coordination. But he did get his father's gift for retaining facts. And he inherited a love of learning and exploring the world from both of us. He has the confidence and people skills that I wished I possessed.
Although my special-needs daughter has challenges I never had to deal with, Lizzy must have gotten a bit of my perseverance. She works so hard at everything. And she accomplishes things everyday that at times we feared were impossible. She also has a wonderful personality and an infectious smile, which I 'm going to take credit for because I can!
Then there is my builder. I don't think he will have the same academic challenges as his older brother and I did, but since he is still only in kindergarten I don't know yet. Language is harder for him than it ever was for me, or even Tom. But like his brother and sister, he is a very happy person. I'm going to take credit for this trait too!
As a parent, I so wanted my kids to have an easier time dealing with the world than I did. I didn't want to see them struggle with the simplest tasks and feel as if they too were put on the wrong planet.
But I have learned, and am still learning, that being a parent isn't about righting the wrongs of our own childhood. Or providing a struggle-free existence. It's about teaching our children to handle that which comes their way with the talents they possess.
Building metaphorical bridges to navigate the world successfully may be the one building talent I possess. And the one I can pass on to my children.
"Mom, do you think it's possible he was switched at birth?" my oldest, Tom, asked.
This was after Peter had set up his trains all over our playroom. He had complex structures set up with bridges and towers. It was amazing to behold.
"No honey, he was not switched at birth."
I completely knew what he was thinking though.
Poor Tom. He can name every President, knows every song the Beatles ever recorded, and can even outsmart his father over what baseball team won the World Series in any given year. But he couldn't build a tower if his life depended on it.
He has the hardest time with fine motor skills, as do I and his father. We are definitely challenged when it comes to hand-eye coordination or whatever is required to build even the simplest structures
"The apple does not fall far from the trees," is an expression I use often in notes to my children's teachers. I'm not used to one of my kids having a talent that is so foreign to his parentage.
He is my son though. He proved this a few minutes later the same day his brother was worried about a possible birth switch.
"Peter, what is wrong, why are you so upset," I say as I'm running down the stairs afraid that he fell or that his brother or sister were on top of him "playing."
"We did nothing to him," was my greeting from Thing One and Thing Two.
"He has this whole thing built and he couldn't get one little piece to fit and he completely lost it," Tom said.
"Well, you see honey, he is my child!" was my somewhat relieved response.
I may not be able to build, but I can certainly relate to at least wanting to lose it when something I've been working on does not go the way I want it to. My parents love to tell some legendary stories of how I would rip up a picture if I didn't think it was just right.
Perfectionism has always been my middle name. And apparently it is Peter's as well. It's funny how much our children can take after us and baffling when they have traits we never dreamed we could produce.
Since I always felt a bit like a misfit, I was hoping that my children would possess traits I so sorely lacked. I felt that if my kids could run fast, play ball, or dance well, their lives would go smoothly.
I certainly hoped that my poor test taking and my dyslexia would skip a generation or two . I figured that since my husband got a 750 on his math SAT, it was possible that one of our children wouldn't struggle in school as I did.
So far that theory hasn't worked out so well. All three of our children have had to deal with different learning issues. Tom seems to have inherited my dyslexia and poor coordination. But he did get his father's gift for retaining facts. And he inherited a love of learning and exploring the world from both of us. He has the confidence and people skills that I wished I possessed.
Although my special-needs daughter has challenges I never had to deal with, Lizzy must have gotten a bit of my perseverance. She works so hard at everything. And she accomplishes things everyday that at times we feared were impossible. She also has a wonderful personality and an infectious smile, which I 'm going to take credit for because I can!
Then there is my builder. I don't think he will have the same academic challenges as his older brother and I did, but since he is still only in kindergarten I don't know yet. Language is harder for him than it ever was for me, or even Tom. But like his brother and sister, he is a very happy person. I'm going to take credit for this trait too!
As a parent, I so wanted my kids to have an easier time dealing with the world than I did. I didn't want to see them struggle with the simplest tasks and feel as if they too were put on the wrong planet.
But I have learned, and am still learning, that being a parent isn't about righting the wrongs of our own childhood. Or providing a struggle-free existence. It's about teaching our children to handle that which comes their way with the talents they possess.
Building metaphorical bridges to navigate the world successfully may be the one building talent I possess. And the one I can pass on to my children.
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