My youngest child, Peter, got off the bus Friday for the very last time as a kindergartner. With that last jump off the bus went a little more of my heart. My children are growing so quickly, I can barely catch my breath.
I know the calender says the year starts in January and ends in December, but for moms, the year really starts in September and ends in June. Summer is just a holding pattern to get us ready for a new year of adventures.
This school year was a biggie for us. Our eldest,Tom, started middle school, Peter started kindergarten, and I started this blog. Lizzy being in second grade, though exciting for her, paled in comparison to the big changes and excitement of kindergarten, middle school, and our dishwasher getting its own website.
Tom looks much more like a teenager now. Very different from the nervous boy that started the sixth grade in September. I am thrilled that this year he actually got to see the good grades that have eluded him in the past even though he has always worked so hard.
He is getting an attitude that is so reminiscent of my own at that age that I have a new found respect for my parents. Whatever issues I may have had with their parenting, it now pales to the pure gratitude and complete awe that they managed to not eat me when I was a teenager.
I miss the little boy who would ask me to dry his tears before I left him at preschool or who would say I was the prettiest mommy in the whole world. I have been replaced by not one, but by several girls who have won his heart.
I am in awe of his confidence and his ease with people. He walks in a room and just owns it. And even though there are times when I wonder if we will make it past 12, never mind the official teen years, he has one of the kindest hearts I have ever met. I truly look forward to the man he is becoming. I simply adore him.
Peter will forever be my baby. Of my three children, Peter is the one who never hesitated to leave me. When he was two and going to nursery school, he only cried when I picked him up to take him home.
For the last few months, the child who could not get away fast enough for an adventure has started to want more kisses and cuddles from mommy. It's as if he knows the big world is out there, ready for him, and he wants to stay my baby for just a bit longer.
I am secretly thrilled.
Lizzy started the school year with the declaration that her teachers "loved her very much" and she returned that love by having one of her best years ever. Lizzy is becoming such a little lady, and I am constantly being reminded that my beautiful daughter with special needs is really writing her own wonderful happy ending each day.
This year, because Peter was in school for the whole day, I found I had a minute to breathe. This was the year I both was looking forward to and dreaded. Who was I if not a mom to little kids?
Turns out I'm a mommy blogger.
My plans of becoming the perfect homemaker, complete with a beautifully kept house, home-baked bread, and a house filled with crafts that I finally had the time to learn didn't turn out the way I planned.
I blame the kids' schools for this.Now that they are paperless I had to finally break down and get my own email address.
It started out so innocently. One day I stumbled on a parenting site and replied to a post. I got a "like" response and I was hooked.
With my husband and my friend Maria to encourage me, I started to do something I had always wanted to do, write. Suddenly all the stories that have been inside me these last few years started to come out and take form on the computer screen.
For years doctors, teachers, and other parents have suggested that I share my experiences of raising children with a range of different issues. I took their suggestions seriously, but actually writing it down and hitting publish was different. Would anyone really want to read about us?
My blog was coming alive at the same exact time the brand new dishwasher we had just bought started to light up like a Christmas tree.
Our silly machine would make a range of noises at all hours of the day and night for no apparent reason. After the very nice repairman had already made his first of four visits to our house I found myself on the phone with the repair center yet again. They wanted to know what was wrong with our brand spanking (and not inexpensive) dishwasher. I said, "It's possessed."
I woke Joe up one night listening to the incessant beeping of the machine that by now was identified by several choice words. "What if I call my blog 'My dishwasher's possessed?'"
He laughed and said, "That works."
From the first essay I wrote in November on Momster.com to starting the site here in January, I have been welcomed by the blogging community. The support and encouragement has been amazing. I have found a piece of myself that I didn't even know existed.
The kids have grown and changed this year. But so have I. My blog has opened up a wonderful chapter that I feel is only starting to reveal itself to me. I have no idea where it will bring me, but I happily sign on for the adventure.
My kids' childhood seems to be going as fast as my own did. All I do is blink and another year is gone. Gratefully, I now have my possessed dishwasher to document all our crazy, happy, and trying times together.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
And So It Goes
A few days ago I witnessed what can only be called a miracle: Peter, my six-year-old, had a 15-minute phone conversation with my father. Some of you may say big deal, and that is completely understandable, unless you have ever had a child who is speech delayed.
"I want to talk to Grandpa."
All right, this will be fast, I thought. It was kind of cute, too because he saw his brother and sister talk to my dad and he wanted to be just like the "big" kids.
I could hear my father ask, "How was school today Peter?" I also heard a tone we all tend to take with Peter. A mix of sweetness and futility. It is not at all unusual for him to only give a one or two word answer, and that may only be after I have prompted him a bit. He has perfected the strong and silent persona.
I fully expected him to hold the phone for a second and then say, "I don't want to talk, goodbye."
"I was crying at school today Grandpa."
Huh?
Tom, my eldest, looked at me as if he had witnessed an alien abduction.
Tom and I continued to look at each other in wonder. We were also laughing. Not just because what he was saying was hysterical, but because Peter was laughing as he recalled his day in kindergarten.
From what I gather, Peter's friends don't like it when he bugs them. This prompted a talk with the school counselor. Also, if anyone is wondering, one should never try to jump off the roof of the play set or sleep in the grass as one of Peter's friends tried to do. Though it will make a few kids laugh.
Most importantly, you "absolutely, never, ever, ever," attempt to pee in the grass at school. Apparently, this is not "respectful."
Thankfully it's been confirmed by his teacher that Peter was not the one who attempted to pee in the grass. Alleluia and Amen.
I don't know what was more entertaining, the conversation Peter was having with my dad, or the shocked, proud, and amazed looks Tom was giving me while we witnessed this unprecedented event.
"Mom, I didn't even know Peter knew the word respectful."
This is my third time dealing with a child with a speech delay. I know the wonder of witnessing the display of a skill that was feared would never be achieved. But it never gets old, I was thrilled.
I was also not surprised that my dad was the person honored with the hallowed conversation.
Why should I be the first person my youngest child graces with his longest conversation ever? I'm just his mother.
My dad is the rock star and definitely the headliner of the very loved and beloved trio of Grandma, Grandpa and my wonderful father-in-law "Grandpa Joe."
If loving and spoiling grandchildren with unlimited love, time, and acceptance were a criminal offense, this trio would be sentenced to hard time.
What a beautiful gift to get the chance to see my parents and father-in-law develop such wonderful and close relationships with my own children.
Lizzy will jump up and stop whatever she is doing if grandma calls and asks if she wants to get a manicure. My dad and Tom have a standing dinner date each Wednesday. My dad takes Tom to the tutor and then they go for sushi. And Peter's favorite thing to do is to got out to breakfast with grandma and grandpa.
If this is not enough spoiling, the kids also have a very doting grandfather in Joe's dad. I have learned to watch what I say about what the kids like. After mentioning that my three little piggies devoured a whole steak one night my father-in-law ordered a shipment from Omaha steaks. When he learned they tasted and loved lobster, you know what got delivered a week later.
Just in case you were wondering, the packages were addressed to all three of the kids, not my husband and me.
A few months ago Joe and the boys went to our nephew's hockey game with my father-in-law. Tom walked in after the game with a half eaten box of doughnuts.
"Did Grandpa Joe get those for you?"
"Yes, when we picked him up he gave Peter and I the box of doughnuts and some chocolate milk for the car ride to New Jersey."
"Boy, are you guys spoiled."
"Mom, that is exactly what I thought when I saw the Dunkin' Donuts box. We are really lucky kids," he said with a huge smile.
They most surely are. So are Joe and I.
I don't know how we could handle all that is involved with the boys learning issues or Lizzy's very serious neurological disorder without their very strong presence in our lives. They have helped us out so much with babysitting and carting children to events that we feel any minute we will be arrested for "elder" abuse.
A perfect illustration of just how much Grandma and Grandpa are loved happend last Saturday. At around 5:00 in the morning. While I was still asleep.
"Mommy, mommy. I want to go home."
"Peter, for the millionth time, Grandmas house is not your home. You live in this house with Daddy, Tom, Lizzy and me." I replied, half asleep.
" I don't want this home. I want Grandmas home."
"Well, there's next weeks blog right there" my sleepy husband mumbled under the covers.
And so it is.
"I want to talk to Grandpa."
All right, this will be fast, I thought. It was kind of cute, too because he saw his brother and sister talk to my dad and he wanted to be just like the "big" kids.
I could hear my father ask, "How was school today Peter?" I also heard a tone we all tend to take with Peter. A mix of sweetness and futility. It is not at all unusual for him to only give a one or two word answer, and that may only be after I have prompted him a bit. He has perfected the strong and silent persona.
I fully expected him to hold the phone for a second and then say, "I don't want to talk, goodbye."
"I was crying at school today Grandpa."
Huh?
Tom, my eldest, looked at me as if he had witnessed an alien abduction.
Tom and I continued to look at each other in wonder. We were also laughing. Not just because what he was saying was hysterical, but because Peter was laughing as he recalled his day in kindergarten.
From what I gather, Peter's friends don't like it when he bugs them. This prompted a talk with the school counselor. Also, if anyone is wondering, one should never try to jump off the roof of the play set or sleep in the grass as one of Peter's friends tried to do. Though it will make a few kids laugh.
Most importantly, you "absolutely, never, ever, ever," attempt to pee in the grass at school. Apparently, this is not "respectful."
Thankfully it's been confirmed by his teacher that Peter was not the one who attempted to pee in the grass. Alleluia and Amen.
I don't know what was more entertaining, the conversation Peter was having with my dad, or the shocked, proud, and amazed looks Tom was giving me while we witnessed this unprecedented event.
"Mom, I didn't even know Peter knew the word respectful."
This is my third time dealing with a child with a speech delay. I know the wonder of witnessing the display of a skill that was feared would never be achieved. But it never gets old, I was thrilled.
I was also not surprised that my dad was the person honored with the hallowed conversation.
Why should I be the first person my youngest child graces with his longest conversation ever? I'm just his mother.
My dad is the rock star and definitely the headliner of the very loved and beloved trio of Grandma, Grandpa and my wonderful father-in-law "Grandpa Joe."
If loving and spoiling grandchildren with unlimited love, time, and acceptance were a criminal offense, this trio would be sentenced to hard time.
What a beautiful gift to get the chance to see my parents and father-in-law develop such wonderful and close relationships with my own children.
Lizzy will jump up and stop whatever she is doing if grandma calls and asks if she wants to get a manicure. My dad and Tom have a standing dinner date each Wednesday. My dad takes Tom to the tutor and then they go for sushi. And Peter's favorite thing to do is to got out to breakfast with grandma and grandpa.
If this is not enough spoiling, the kids also have a very doting grandfather in Joe's dad. I have learned to watch what I say about what the kids like. After mentioning that my three little piggies devoured a whole steak one night my father-in-law ordered a shipment from Omaha steaks. When he learned they tasted and loved lobster, you know what got delivered a week later.
Just in case you were wondering, the packages were addressed to all three of the kids, not my husband and me.
A few months ago Joe and the boys went to our nephew's hockey game with my father-in-law. Tom walked in after the game with a half eaten box of doughnuts.
"Did Grandpa Joe get those for you?"
"Yes, when we picked him up he gave Peter and I the box of doughnuts and some chocolate milk for the car ride to New Jersey."
"Boy, are you guys spoiled."
"Mom, that is exactly what I thought when I saw the Dunkin' Donuts box. We are really lucky kids," he said with a huge smile.
They most surely are. So are Joe and I.
I don't know how we could handle all that is involved with the boys learning issues or Lizzy's very serious neurological disorder without their very strong presence in our lives. They have helped us out so much with babysitting and carting children to events that we feel any minute we will be arrested for "elder" abuse.
A perfect illustration of just how much Grandma and Grandpa are loved happend last Saturday. At around 5:00 in the morning. While I was still asleep.
"Mommy, mommy. I want to go home."
"Peter, for the millionth time, Grandmas house is not your home. You live in this house with Daddy, Tom, Lizzy and me." I replied, half asleep.
" I don't want this home. I want Grandmas home."
"Well, there's next weeks blog right there" my sleepy husband mumbled under the covers.
And so it is.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Kid's Choice
Whenever I'm desperate for something to write about, I'll ask one of my kids for an idea. As often as not, the answer is "me." This week my daughter Lizzy suggested I write about Nick Jr.
Last week my twelve-year-old Tom suggested I write about "The Magical Day" he was born.
I thought that's very sweet, but there was one little problem. The result of that day was absoulutely magical, but the 24 hours of labor before he arrived via a cesarean section at 12:30 a.m. was not.
For almost seven of those hours, I was 9 1/2 centimeters dilated. The C-section had to be performed while I was under general anesthesia.The "trendy" walking epidural I had been given during the long hours of labor was raised and lowered so many times in anticipation of my delivery, that by the time my doctor did the c-section, no spinal anesthetic would work.
I woke up around 2:00 am that December day in the recovery room with my husband at the foot of my bed holding a moving bundle of blankets that was our beautiful baby boy.
My husband was all smiles as he brought our newborn son to me. Because of the general anesthesia, and some complications it was causing with my oxygen levels, I could not hold my baby. So I touched his tiny little feet and said, "Hi Tommy." My son turned his head around to the voice he had been hearing for almost 42 weeks.
That was a magical moment and one I will never forget.
But the day was not what I had fantasized about for almost 10 months.
My husband and I would dream about what it would feel like to finally meet the child we so desperately wanted after four miscarriages. We had gone through so much, surely we would get the birth story that would rival any that I saw on "A Baby Story."
Early that Wednesday morning in December, I thought I was well on my way to getting my perfect baby story. It was 10 days past my due date, and when I started to get contractions at 3:00 am while watching reruns of "Law and Order," I knew this was probably it.
I woke my husband, and I remember never wanting to leave our bed as we lay and timed contractions. My husband was anxious to get to the hospital. We lived in Queens, but our doctor and the hospital were in Manhattan. I was thinking of savoring the moment and cocooning with my husband and soon-to-be-born son. Joe was thinking of getting his pregnant wife into the city through rush hour traffic.
Months earlier, I decided that when I started to get contractions, I would first go to my sister's East 85th St. apartment a few blocks from the hospital. While she was in Los Angeles on business, the place was ours.
My plan was that I would labor at Wendy's and then go to the hospital. My husband decided not to argue with me, even though he wanted to go straight to the hospital. He respected my wishes and brought me to my sister's. I barely walked up the two flights of stairs and waited for Joe to park the car. The pain was intense, but I was adamant about not calling the doctor until 9:00 a.m.
The plan was to go to the doctor's office, and I was going to stick to it. There was no way I was going to be one of those first timers who arrived at the hospital only to be sent home.
By the time we decided that my plan was not going to work, it was a weekday at 8:30 a.m. on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Good luck hailing a cab. My husband left me off to the side of Third Avenue because the teacher at our Lamaze class had warned fathers not to look for a cab with an obviously pregnant wife. I stood on the corner of 83rd street holding onto a lamp post. Not a pretty picture.
When I saw a garbage truck pass by, I thought perhaps they would take me to the hospital. Finally my husband hailed a livery cab and gave the driver $20 for a eight-block ride.
Fast forward 16 hours later, flat on my back, and feeling like a Mack truck hit me. It was taking so long to get my oxygen levels back to normal that the nurses suggested my husband go back to my sister's place to get a little rest.
We had requested a private room so he could stay with the baby and me, but it did not look promising. We said goodbye, and I was left alone in the recovery room, no husband and no baby. I never saw this on "A Baby Story."
I thought my luck was picking up when they wheeled me into my room, a beautiful private room. Even though it was a shift change, I begged the nurse to let me see and hold my baby because even though my son was seven hours old, I had never held him.
I still remember the pure joy and pure fear as she put him in my arms. I was in my room, holding my perfect son and I was all alone. Well, not really alone, because now I had him. The beautiful baby in the blanket.
To make this day even odder, my husband did not come to the hospital till about 1:00 in the afternoon. I thought maybe he was just really tired because we had spoken on the phone a few times and he didn't say anything was wrong.
Turns out that being up 24 hours and full of adrenaline made him forget the instructions from my sister to not lock the deadbolt. Yes, my husband was locked in my sister's apartment until he could get a locksmith to get him out because her super was out Christmas shopping.
I can still remember him coming to my room with the most beautiful red roses and a box of chocolate cigars to give out. He had the biggest smile on his face and that room became our whole world for four full days.
As I write about this, I see that Tom was right, the day he was born was magical: in a Joe and Kathy kind of way.
Last week my twelve-year-old Tom suggested I write about "The Magical Day" he was born.
I thought that's very sweet, but there was one little problem. The result of that day was absoulutely magical, but the 24 hours of labor before he arrived via a cesarean section at 12:30 a.m. was not.
For almost seven of those hours, I was 9 1/2 centimeters dilated. The C-section had to be performed while I was under general anesthesia.The "trendy" walking epidural I had been given during the long hours of labor was raised and lowered so many times in anticipation of my delivery, that by the time my doctor did the c-section, no spinal anesthetic would work.
I woke up around 2:00 am that December day in the recovery room with my husband at the foot of my bed holding a moving bundle of blankets that was our beautiful baby boy.
My husband was all smiles as he brought our newborn son to me. Because of the general anesthesia, and some complications it was causing with my oxygen levels, I could not hold my baby. So I touched his tiny little feet and said, "Hi Tommy." My son turned his head around to the voice he had been hearing for almost 42 weeks.
That was a magical moment and one I will never forget.
But the day was not what I had fantasized about for almost 10 months.
My husband and I would dream about what it would feel like to finally meet the child we so desperately wanted after four miscarriages. We had gone through so much, surely we would get the birth story that would rival any that I saw on "A Baby Story."
Early that Wednesday morning in December, I thought I was well on my way to getting my perfect baby story. It was 10 days past my due date, and when I started to get contractions at 3:00 am while watching reruns of "Law and Order," I knew this was probably it.
I woke my husband, and I remember never wanting to leave our bed as we lay and timed contractions. My husband was anxious to get to the hospital. We lived in Queens, but our doctor and the hospital were in Manhattan. I was thinking of savoring the moment and cocooning with my husband and soon-to-be-born son. Joe was thinking of getting his pregnant wife into the city through rush hour traffic.
Months earlier, I decided that when I started to get contractions, I would first go to my sister's East 85th St. apartment a few blocks from the hospital. While she was in Los Angeles on business, the place was ours.
My plan was that I would labor at Wendy's and then go to the hospital. My husband decided not to argue with me, even though he wanted to go straight to the hospital. He respected my wishes and brought me to my sister's. I barely walked up the two flights of stairs and waited for Joe to park the car. The pain was intense, but I was adamant about not calling the doctor until 9:00 a.m.
The plan was to go to the doctor's office, and I was going to stick to it. There was no way I was going to be one of those first timers who arrived at the hospital only to be sent home.
By the time we decided that my plan was not going to work, it was a weekday at 8:30 a.m. on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Good luck hailing a cab. My husband left me off to the side of Third Avenue because the teacher at our Lamaze class had warned fathers not to look for a cab with an obviously pregnant wife. I stood on the corner of 83rd street holding onto a lamp post. Not a pretty picture.
When I saw a garbage truck pass by, I thought perhaps they would take me to the hospital. Finally my husband hailed a livery cab and gave the driver $20 for a eight-block ride.
Fast forward 16 hours later, flat on my back, and feeling like a Mack truck hit me. It was taking so long to get my oxygen levels back to normal that the nurses suggested my husband go back to my sister's place to get a little rest.
We had requested a private room so he could stay with the baby and me, but it did not look promising. We said goodbye, and I was left alone in the recovery room, no husband and no baby. I never saw this on "A Baby Story."
I thought my luck was picking up when they wheeled me into my room, a beautiful private room. Even though it was a shift change, I begged the nurse to let me see and hold my baby because even though my son was seven hours old, I had never held him.
I still remember the pure joy and pure fear as she put him in my arms. I was in my room, holding my perfect son and I was all alone. Well, not really alone, because now I had him. The beautiful baby in the blanket.
To make this day even odder, my husband did not come to the hospital till about 1:00 in the afternoon. I thought maybe he was just really tired because we had spoken on the phone a few times and he didn't say anything was wrong.
Turns out that being up 24 hours and full of adrenaline made him forget the instructions from my sister to not lock the deadbolt. Yes, my husband was locked in my sister's apartment until he could get a locksmith to get him out because her super was out Christmas shopping.
I can still remember him coming to my room with the most beautiful red roses and a box of chocolate cigars to give out. He had the biggest smile on his face and that room became our whole world for four full days.
As I write about this, I see that Tom was right, the day he was born was magical: in a Joe and Kathy kind of way.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Proud to be a Stage Mother
I run through the list in my head. Dance costume? Check. Jazz shoes? Check. Do I need hairpins? This is only the dress rehearsal, but I'll get hairpins and hairspray before the recital next week.
I reach in my closet and get her costume. I don't know why I have butterflies in my stomach. My nine-year-old daughter is the one who will be on stage.
I'm so glad we have the dress rehearsal this week and the recital next week. Lat year it was harder for Lizzy to understand the whole rehearsal performance concept when they were three weeks apart. This year it's great she can practice today, and then I can keep it fresh for her in the coming week.
For a minute I panic as I reach up and can't find the package I left up in the outer reaches of my closet.
Oh, thank God, here it is.
Pink sequins sparkle in my hand. Lizzy is not going to want to take this off. How am I going to tie up the pants? Well, the other moms will be there today, I can ask them.
Check the time. 11:45. OK. I'll get her in the shower and she can have lunch, get dressed, and then run to the rehearsal. I want to get their early so Lizzy and I can relax before it gets crazy with all the other classes getting ready to go over their routines.
12:15. We're still on schedule.
"Lizzy, come on. Let's get our costume on. Peter and Tom, please make sure you are ready. I do not want to be late."
"Oh, mommy! This is so pretty and sparkly"
I love this child.
Top on. Pants on. Boy are her legs long.
She looks so cute. I can't believe this is her fourth recital. She looks so grown up. I miss the white sequined tutu from her first recital.
I'm so proud of her. She has been practicing her routine, and I just know she is going to have fun dancing in front of everyone. I'm extra excited that this year the girls in her class will dance without helpers on stage. She has come so far.
Lizzy poses in the mirror. Hand on hip, the other arm extend up. She definitely has inherited my ham gene.
"I look beautiful."
"You do Lizzy. You look like a princess."
"Lizzy you look so pretty. You are going to do such a good job. Are you excited?"
"Yes, Tom. Thank you."
She is so lucky to have a brother that adores her.
"Lizzy! Look at you! You look so pretty!"
Joe grabs my hand. He is probably the one person who knows just how important this it to me. The chance to see our daughter preform in a dance recital just like any other little girl.
Mad dash to the car. Move it, move it. "Come on everybody I do not want to be late."
"I want to see my grandma and grandpa."
"Yes Peter, they are meeting us there. Come on, lets go, move your tushy!"
It's hard for me to be annoyed with that child. He flashes his winning smile, and my hard mommy reserve cracks.
We get to the school where the recital will be at 1:00 p.m. Perfect.
"Kathy, you and Lizzy get out here, we will meet you inside. OK Missy Liz, have fun. We will see you in there with Mommy."
"Do you have her dance bag?"
Of course I have her dance bag. I'm a mother.
"Got it. Come on Lizzy. Say goodbye to the boys."
"Bye boys."
Lizzy and I are both excited to see all the other girls dressed up in their costumes. Ballerinas... Cowgirls... Hip hop girls... Where are the girls from our group? I look around, and we are the only ones here. I hope I didn't mess up the time. We were supposed to be at the second rehearsal, right?
Big sigh of relief.
"Lizzy, look, here are the other girls."
Kisses, smiles, chorus's of "Say hi Lizzy." "Honey, say hi to Lizzy." "How are you doing?" More smiles, more giggles. I love the sense of community and excitement.
Even though we don't see each other often, we all know each others' stories, and have watched our children grow and change. It is one of those strange treasures of belonging to the "special needs community." There is an unspoken understanding, and we huddle around each other, as the other dancers--typical little girls who don't have to struggle for every milestone--walk around us. Some of them stare.
I look around and can't believe how big they have all gotten. The group has changed a bit through the years, but the core group of six has been together for four years.
Miss Maria comes over and gives each girl a huge hug and kiss. She just beams with pride at "her" girls. I look at her and wonder how I ever will be able to adequately thank her for giving Lizzy the chance to dance and be like any other child.
Maria is definitely one of the angels in our life. I marvel at her ability to combine her love for dance with her profession of teaching special needs children. She has the patience of a saint. She has given Lizzy the chance to express herself and always treats her with such respect and love. The smile Lizzy gives her warms my heart. Whenever I feel sorry for myself or Lizzy, I need only to think of people like Maria to realize just how blessed we are.
Time for the girls to line up. Lizzy doesn't need me to "babysit" her backstage as I once did. She is such a big girl! Nervously, I give her a kiss and walk to the auditorium with the other parents.
I see "my boys" and my mom and dad. My mother is already crying, and Lizzy isn't even on the stage yet.
"How is Lizzy doing? Do you think it is a good idea to leave her alone backstage? Who is back there with her?"
These questions don't come from my husband or parents, but from my oldest son,Tom. I swear he is more protective of her then all of us combined, and that is saying a lot.
I glance over at Peter, who has two tissues stuck in his ears. I look up at my mom and she just smiles and shakes her head.
I give up, but gosh, is he cute.
The girls come on the stage, and my heart is now in my mouth. It is beating so loud, I could swear everyone can hear it. It feels as if my face may crack from my wide smile.
Lizzy's face is lit up in a smile. She is dancing so well, only forgetting a few steps, and I only know that because we have been going over the routine. She looks so happy.
I feel the tears stream down my face and I could just bust from pride. I look up and there is Joe with the same huge smile on his face. Tom and my parents are beaming, even Peter, tissues still sticking out of his ears, is smiling.
The dance ends, the audience roars with applause, and I am so excited that I get to do the whole thing over next week.
I run and give my dancer a huge hug, feeling like the luckiest mom in the world.
I reach in my closet and get her costume. I don't know why I have butterflies in my stomach. My nine-year-old daughter is the one who will be on stage.
I'm so glad we have the dress rehearsal this week and the recital next week. Lat year it was harder for Lizzy to understand the whole rehearsal performance concept when they were three weeks apart. This year it's great she can practice today, and then I can keep it fresh for her in the coming week.
For a minute I panic as I reach up and can't find the package I left up in the outer reaches of my closet.
Oh, thank God, here it is.
Pink sequins sparkle in my hand. Lizzy is not going to want to take this off. How am I going to tie up the pants? Well, the other moms will be there today, I can ask them.
Check the time. 11:45. OK. I'll get her in the shower and she can have lunch, get dressed, and then run to the rehearsal. I want to get their early so Lizzy and I can relax before it gets crazy with all the other classes getting ready to go over their routines.
12:15. We're still on schedule.
"Lizzy, come on. Let's get our costume on. Peter and Tom, please make sure you are ready. I do not want to be late."
"Oh, mommy! This is so pretty and sparkly"
I love this child.
Top on. Pants on. Boy are her legs long.
She looks so cute. I can't believe this is her fourth recital. She looks so grown up. I miss the white sequined tutu from her first recital.
I'm so proud of her. She has been practicing her routine, and I just know she is going to have fun dancing in front of everyone. I'm extra excited that this year the girls in her class will dance without helpers on stage. She has come so far.
Lizzy poses in the mirror. Hand on hip, the other arm extend up. She definitely has inherited my ham gene.
"I look beautiful."
"You do Lizzy. You look like a princess."
"Lizzy you look so pretty. You are going to do such a good job. Are you excited?"
"Yes, Tom. Thank you."
She is so lucky to have a brother that adores her.
"Lizzy! Look at you! You look so pretty!"
Joe grabs my hand. He is probably the one person who knows just how important this it to me. The chance to see our daughter preform in a dance recital just like any other little girl.
Mad dash to the car. Move it, move it. "Come on everybody I do not want to be late."
"I want to see my grandma and grandpa."
"Yes Peter, they are meeting us there. Come on, lets go, move your tushy!"
It's hard for me to be annoyed with that child. He flashes his winning smile, and my hard mommy reserve cracks.
We get to the school where the recital will be at 1:00 p.m. Perfect.
"Kathy, you and Lizzy get out here, we will meet you inside. OK Missy Liz, have fun. We will see you in there with Mommy."
"Do you have her dance bag?"
Of course I have her dance bag. I'm a mother.
"Got it. Come on Lizzy. Say goodbye to the boys."
"Bye boys."
Lizzy and I are both excited to see all the other girls dressed up in their costumes. Ballerinas... Cowgirls... Hip hop girls... Where are the girls from our group? I look around, and we are the only ones here. I hope I didn't mess up the time. We were supposed to be at the second rehearsal, right?
Big sigh of relief.
"Lizzy, look, here are the other girls."
Kisses, smiles, chorus's of "Say hi Lizzy." "Honey, say hi to Lizzy." "How are you doing?" More smiles, more giggles. I love the sense of community and excitement.
Even though we don't see each other often, we all know each others' stories, and have watched our children grow and change. It is one of those strange treasures of belonging to the "special needs community." There is an unspoken understanding, and we huddle around each other, as the other dancers--typical little girls who don't have to struggle for every milestone--walk around us. Some of them stare.
I look around and can't believe how big they have all gotten. The group has changed a bit through the years, but the core group of six has been together for four years.
Miss Maria comes over and gives each girl a huge hug and kiss. She just beams with pride at "her" girls. I look at her and wonder how I ever will be able to adequately thank her for giving Lizzy the chance to dance and be like any other child.
Maria is definitely one of the angels in our life. I marvel at her ability to combine her love for dance with her profession of teaching special needs children. She has the patience of a saint. She has given Lizzy the chance to express herself and always treats her with such respect and love. The smile Lizzy gives her warms my heart. Whenever I feel sorry for myself or Lizzy, I need only to think of people like Maria to realize just how blessed we are.
Time for the girls to line up. Lizzy doesn't need me to "babysit" her backstage as I once did. She is such a big girl! Nervously, I give her a kiss and walk to the auditorium with the other parents.
I see "my boys" and my mom and dad. My mother is already crying, and Lizzy isn't even on the stage yet.
"How is Lizzy doing? Do you think it is a good idea to leave her alone backstage? Who is back there with her?"
These questions don't come from my husband or parents, but from my oldest son,Tom. I swear he is more protective of her then all of us combined, and that is saying a lot.
I glance over at Peter, who has two tissues stuck in his ears. I look up at my mom and she just smiles and shakes her head.
I give up, but gosh, is he cute.
The girls come on the stage, and my heart is now in my mouth. It is beating so loud, I could swear everyone can hear it. It feels as if my face may crack from my wide smile.
Lizzy's face is lit up in a smile. She is dancing so well, only forgetting a few steps, and I only know that because we have been going over the routine. She looks so happy.
I feel the tears stream down my face and I could just bust from pride. I look up and there is Joe with the same huge smile on his face. Tom and my parents are beaming, even Peter, tissues still sticking out of his ears, is smiling.
The dance ends, the audience roars with applause, and I am so excited that I get to do the whole thing over next week.
I run and give my dancer a huge hug, feeling like the luckiest mom in the world.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Asia Pacific Institute of Management Delhi MBA Entrance Exam Fee Admission Process
Asia pacific institute of management MBA Entrance Exam 2012-2013, fee, Admission Process
Established in 1996, Asia-Pacific Institute of Management ranks among the top Business schools in the Delhi region. With highly experienced faculty and world class infrastructure comparable to the best MBA colleges in India, Asia-Pacific aims to create a stimulated learning atmosphere conducive for overall development of its students.
Asia-Pacific offers AICTE approved full time and part time PGDM programmes Specialization is available in the areas of marketing,international business, banking and financial services, human resources, operation management, and information technology.
Infrastructure
The campus is centrally air-conditioned. Spacious acoustically designed lecture theaters with LCD projectors and public address systems facilitate course delivery through use of audiovisual inputs from slide presentations to video clips and video lessons. Smaller groups can meet in equally comfortable but smaller tutorial rooms The campus is Wi-Fi enabled to permit wireless internet access from any point in range.
Library:
Reading Rooms : Large ultra-comfortable and well-illuminated
Books : Over 30,000
Project Reports : Over 2,300
Computer centre:
· 300 Pentium IV nodes are connected with high-speed servers like HP-ML350, IBM X-3400 in structured as well as wireless LAN environment.
· 24X7 Internet connectivity to each node at the speed of 1Mbps through Leased Line
· Latest Software’s
Lecture theatres
Auditorium
Amphitheater
Cafeteria
Hostel
Management Programs:
Program name | Duration | |
PGDM (NBA Accredited, Recognized by AIU) | 2 years | |
PGDM (Marketing) Business Administration | 2years | |
PGDM (International Business) | 2 years | |
PGDM (Banking & Financial Services) | 2 years | |
Executive-PGDM (Part time) | 3 years | |
Executive-PGDM (Marketing) (Part time) | 3 Years | |
Admission process:
PGDM, PGDM (M), PGDM (IB), PGDM (BFS)
Eligibility:
Bachelor’s degree in any discipline with 50% marks in aggregate under 10+2+3 system or equivalent in any discipline recognized by Association of Indian Universities/ AICTE as eligible for post- graduate studies in management.
Students appearing for Final year degree examination can also apply.
Students appearing for Final year degree examination can also apply.
Selection Process:
Asia-Pacific uses CAT/GMAT/MAT scores for short-listing candidates.
Executive-PGDM (Part Time), Executive-PGDM (Marketing) (Part time)
Eligibility:
• A recognized bachelor’s degree in any discipline of minimum 3 years duration
• Minimum 2 years work experience
Past Academic Record
Written Test
Personal Interview
ASIA-PACIFIC INSTITUTE OF MANAGEMENT , 3 & 4 Institutional Area, Jasola,
Opp. Sarita Vihar, New Delhi - 110025. INDIA.
Phone : +91-11-26950549,
Toll Free No: 1800-11-3334
Board No: 011-42094800 (30 Lines)
Fax: 26951541
Email : mailtous@asiapacific.edu
Website: http://www.asiapacific.edu
Management institutes in Delhi
Tag: Asia Pacific Institute Of management Delhi MBA Fee, Asia Pacific Institute Of management MBA Entrance Exam 2012-2013, Asia Pacific Institute Of management MBA Admission Process
Tag: Asia Pacific Institute Of management Delhi MBA Fee, Asia Pacific Institute Of management MBA Entrance Exam 2012-2013, Asia Pacific Institute Of management MBA Admission Process
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Best Management MBA Institutes in Delhi CAT MAT Institutes
List of Best MBA colleges/Institutes in Delhi, Top Management Institutes Delhi, CAT/MAT MBA Colleges in Delhi
MBA is a degree program which has become one of the preferred professional degree course among the students, number of students who wants to take the admission in MBA Degree course and number of Colleges who are offering this course has increased tremendously in last few years, below we have mentioned a list of top MBA Colleges in Delhi which are offering this course.
There are four types of MBA programs:
- Full time MBA lasting two years
- Part time MBA programs last 3 years;
- Executive MBA programs last for two years or less and designed for working managers and executives.
- Distance MBA
1) Faculty of Management Studies (FMS-Delhi)
University of Delhi, Delhi - 110 007
Tel: +91 11 2766 6382 / 6387 / 6388
Website: http://www.fms.edu
2) Lal Bahadur Shastri Institute of Management
Shastri Sadan, Sector III, R. K. Puram
New Delhi-110 022, INDIA
Tel: 91-11-26191081,26186153, 26172407
Website: http://www.lbsim.ac.in
3) Indian Institute of Foreign Trade(IIFT)
IIFT Bhawan
B-21, Qutab Institutional Area,New Delhi
Tel: +91-11-26853055, 26963880
Website: http://www.iift.edu
4) Indian Institute of Technology(IIT) Delhi
Hauz Khas, New Delhi - 110 016.
Tel: (91) 011-2658 2222, (91) 011-2658 1696
Website: http://www.iitd.ac.in
5) Indian Institute of Finanace (IIF) Delhi
41, Community Centre-II,Ashok Vihar-2,
New Delhi 110052
Tel:- 91-011-7136257
Website: http://www.iif.edu
6) Jamia Millia Islamia University
Maulana Mohammad Ali Johar Marg
Jamia Nagar, New Delhi - 1100 25, India
Tel: +91(11)26981717, 26988044, 26984075, 26985176,
Website: http://www.jmi.nic.in
7) NIILM Centre for Management Studies
B-II/66, Sher Shah Suri Marg, M.C.I.E. Mathura Road
Badarpur, New Delhi-110 044
Ph.: 29894513/4514, 29891529/1539,
Website: http://www.niilm.com
8) Apeejay School of Management
Sector VIII, Institutional Area, Dwarka
Dwarka- 110077
Phone: 011-2536 3979/ 80/ 83/ 86/ 88, 2536 4523,
Website: http://www.apeejay.edu
9) IILM Institute for Higher Education
3 Lodhi Institutional Area,
New Delhi- 110003
Tel: +91-011-3093-4456 , 3941-4300
Website: http://www.iilm.edu
10) Rai Business School (RBS)
Espire Campus - 41, MCIE, Mathura Road , New Delhi - 110044
Tel :011- 26991300,41560000,41570000, 32557623
Website: http://www.rbs.edu.in
11) JK Business School (JKBS)
JK Building, 7th Floor, 2. Local Shopping Complex,
Masjid Moth, GK II, New Delhi - 48
Tel: +91-11-29222864-65
Website: http://www.jkbschool.org
12) Skyline Education Group
Hauz Khas Enclave,
New Delhi - 110 016, India.
Phone : 91-11-26864848, 26866968, 26524399,41656169
Fax : 91-11-26864848
Website: http://www.skylinecollege.com
13) Cosmic Business School
B1/E11, MCIE,
Mathura Road
New Delhi –110044
Ph. 011- 40520815
Website: http://www.cosmic.edu.in
14) Indian Institute of Planning & Management (IIPM)
IIPM ,D-II, Level-2 ,
Southern Park , Saket,
New Delhi-110017
Phone: 91-11-41799993, 41799994.
Website: http://www.iipm.edu
15) Jagannath International Management School(JIMS)
MOR, Pocket 105, Opp. Nehru Place Bus Terminal
Near Kalkaji Police Station, New Delhi-110019
Ph :40619200
Website: http://www.jagannath.org
16) International Management Institute(IMI)
B-10, Qutab Institutional Area,
Tara Crescent, New Delhi - 110016
Tel: 91-11-26529237/38/39
Website: http://www.imi.edu
17) Delhi School of Professional Studies And Research (DSPSR)
9, Institutional Area, Sector-25, Rohini Phase-III
Delhi - 110085
Tel: (011) 2793-2799, 2706-2290
Website: http://dspsr.ac.in
18) EMPI Business School
Camp P.O.: CSKM Educational Complex,Satbari,Chattarpur,New Delhi - 110074
Tel: +91-11-26653764 / 26652373
Website: http://empiindia.com
19) Eastern Institute for Integrated Learning in Management (EIILM)
41, MCIE, Mathura Road ,
New Delhi - 110044
Mobile : 09311532583, 09311532576, 9311532602
Website: http://www.eiilm.edu.in
20) Bharati Vidyapeeth University Institute of Management and Research (BVIMR)
A-4, Paschim Vihar, Rohtak Road
New Delhi - 110063
Tel : 25284396, 25286442
Website: http://www.bvimr.com
21) NSB School of Business
B-II/1, MCIE, Delhi Mathura Road, New Delhi-110 044
Tel: 011-41676 794 / 795, 41678652, 3298062
Website: http://www.nsb.in
22) BLB Istitute of Financial Markets( BIFM)
4th Floor, Gulab Bhawan, 6, Bahadur shah zafar Marg
New Delhi-110002
Tel:- (011) 43702201-02
Website: http://www.bifm.edu.in
23) Netaji Subhash Institute of Management Sciences (NIMS)
NIMS City Tower, Mall Road,
Netaji Subhash Place,
Pitampura, New Delhi - 110034
Tel No. : 011 - 47020055
Website: http://www.nimsindia.net
24) Asia Pacific Institute of Management Studies (AIMS)
3 & 4 Institutional Area, Jasola,
Opp. Sarita Vihar, New Delhi - 110025. INDIA.
Tel : +91-11-26950549, 9311309070, 9311409070
Tel: http://www.asiapacific.edu
25) Institute of Management and Development
Management Tower,
C-46, Okhla Industrial Area, Phase - II,
New Delhi - 110020, INDIA
Tel: 011-40523658, 40523659, 26383188, 41638004, 40526741
Website: http://www.mba.ac.in
26) Delhi Business School, New Delhi
B-II/ 58, MCIE, Mathura Road,
(Near upcoming Metro station on Badarpur Border)
New Delhi - 110044
Tel: 011-41676793, 32423329, 32423198
Website: http://www.dbs.edu.in
27) Institute of Professional Studies & Research (IPSAR)
IPSAR-CPE
104, Saheed Nagar,
Bhubaneswar
Orissa - INDIA
Phone +91.674. 2547005
Website: http://www.ipsar.ac.in
28) Guru Nanak Institute of Management
Road No. 75, Punjabi Bagh, (WEST),
New Delhi-110026
Tel.: 2522 1926, 2522 8927, 2522 8362
Website: http://www.gnimonline.org
29) Delhi Institute of Technology and Management (DITM)
Gnnaur-Sonipat Haryana,
National Highway, NH-1, NCR Delhi
Phone : 0130-3200053, 3200087, 2115184,2115185
Website: http://www.ditmcollege.com
30) Jamia Hamdard (Deemed University)
Hamdard Nagar,New Delhi 110 602
Tel:- 260559688, 2605944
Website: http://www.jamiahamdard.edu
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MBA Colleges in Delhi, Management Institutes in Delhi, Delhi MBA colleges, Best MBA Colleges in Delhi
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