42 Years, 42 Things

Well, I believe in the soul, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. - Crash Davis, Bull Durham

Here's what I believe:

1. I believe all religions essentially worship the same God, only in different manners
2. I believe eating chocolate makes you feel better
3. I believe having pets adds to a family
4. I believe holding a newborn is life affirming
5. I believe human beings are capable of great things
6. I believe there is life on other planets
7. I believe in dancing in the kitchen
8. I believe in education
9. I believe in girlfriends who share the unvarnished truth
10. I believe in good manners
11. I believe in hard work getting you to where you want to be
12. I believe in having a life plan
13. I believe in healthy past times
14. I believe in Kevin Bacon
15. I believe in making popcorn and watching The Wizard of Oz
16. I believe in mother's intuition
17. I believe in multiple orgasms
18. I believe in safe sex
19. I believe in separation of church and state
20. I believe in singing loudly in the car
21. I believe in tea in the morning and wine in the evening
22. I believe in using proper grammar and spelling at all times
23. I believe it really pisses God off when wars are waged in His name
24. I believe it's a choice to grow closer or to grow apart
25. I believe mental illness is a physical illness
26. I believe not all babies are beautiful
27. I believe people in the public eye have a responsibility to behave better
28. I believe political correctness has gotten way out of hand
29. I believe professional athletes are paid way too much
30. I believe reality TV is the lowest common denominator
31. I believe Rome is burning and we need to find the fire extinguisher
32. I believe sometimes people need a leg up, not a free hand
33. I believe -strongly - in personal responsibility
34. I believe that consenting adults have the right to marry whomever they choose
35. I believe that the equality of women and men is a basic human right, regardless of religion
36. I believe the Earth is warming
37. I believe humans are largely but not entirely responsible for it
38. I believe in respecting the position if not the person
39. I believe the Muslim woman who rang me up at Target is just trying to make a living, like everyone else
40. I believe the sound of my sons' laughter heals my heart
41. I believe we are largely a nation of hypochondriacs
42. I believe that in the end, we all do what's best for ourselves 

What do you believe?

This Day In History

1719 - Robinson Crusoe is published

1859 - Ground broken for Suez Canal

1945 - Allies and Russians link up, cutting Germany in two

1990 - Space Shuttle Discovery places Hubble Telescope in orbit

2005 - Gremlin Manic is born

Clear as day, I can see Daddy doing that rhythmic, baby bounce-and-walk, holding you close in the labor and delivery room, speaking softly to you.  That was the first moment I saw you. And I loved you, instantly.  Thanks to an emergency c-section and Dad needing to care for your big brother, you and I had more alone time those first few days than HRH and I did.  I sat on the narrow hospital bed with you on my lap and we checked each other out. 

Between visits from Gram and Nana, from aunties, uncles, and cousins, I played with your fingers and toes. I smiled at you and talked to you for hours on end. I noted the difference in your 6 pound 14 ounce frame to your preemie "big" brother's 5 pounds, 9 ounces. I became frustrated by your lack of nursing cooperation and I noticed how LOUDLY you did everything. From breathing, to snoring, to diapers, you made your presence known.  Daddy and I introduced you to your big brother and our family was complete.

Every night, for the past five years, we've said our God blesses.  Every night, we end our God blesses with "and God bless everyone else we love.  And I...love...you..."

Happy Birthday, my perfect, funny, smart, sensitive, clever, not-so-little Gremlin, I love you.  More every day.

Another Birthday Post

Because I married you, I have:

A Bread Winner

A Bug Killer

A Cat

A Co-parent

A Date for holidays

A Designated Driver

A Dirty job do-er

A Dog

A Fellow Star Trek geek

Good Tire Air Pressure

A Heavy lifter

In Laws

A Joint checking account

Life insurance

A Mortgage

A Necklace-clasper

An Omelet Maker

A Retirement plan

Sons

A Sounding board

A Toilet Plunger

A Valentine

A Wedding date

A Family
A Friendship
A Marriage
Love you, Babe. Happy Birthday.

Four

Last night, I was just coming up the stairs following Youk's walk-off two run homer in the 11th when I heard little bare feet hit the floor, headed for our bedroom. Gremlin needed a drink. I redeposited him in bed with promises of juice and headed back downstairs.

When I brought him his sippy, I sat on the edge of his bed while he drank, then kissed him and said good night. His sleepy voice informed me he wanted me to be with him. I love when he says this. It means he doesn't need me; he wants me, is comforted by my presence.

So I sat there a while longer. I watched as he snuggled into my hand that was stroking his hair and cheek, loving the security my touch provides him. I watched as his two hands felt for just the "right spot" on his blanket to rub against his nose. I looked at his thick, dark eyelashes casting shadows against his cheek, at his perfect nose, his round cheeks, his beautiful lips, and little gapped teeth. I thought about four years ago, when he left my body and came into our life.

I thought about all the things he's done this year. Potty training, big boy bike-riding, starting school, and learning to write his name. I thought about what's in store for the next year; five-day preschool, beginning to read, playing sports, the age of reason(?).

Whatever comes next, it won't be boring. Because life with you, my not-so-little Gremlin is never boring. And I thank God for that, and most especially, for you.

Happy Birthday to my boy who is always my baby.

Mommy loves you up to the sky.

I Don't Know Nothin' About Birthin' Babies

Ten years ago tonight, I was asleep at Andy's apartment when the phone rang. I was on stand-by to care for my older two nieces when my sister went into labor. It was time. Entering the house we find my sister, Danni, already dressed, getting her bag together, and carrying the cordless phone around but no husband.

Over a week ago, her OB/GYN had told her that she was definitely going to have this baby "any minute." And so, for over a week, Michael had been shadowing her, following her every move, solicitously asking if she was alright. In short, she was ready to kill him. So when a friend invited him to go see a band, Danni nearly threw him out the door. In a world before ubiquitous cell phones, Michael had his pager so if anything happened, he could fly right home.

Except for some reason Michael's pager had switched off vibrate. And he was at a bar. With loud music and his pager beeping away. So here is my very-much-in-labor sister breathing through contractions while my not-yet-fiance looked on in nervous horror, and I try to figure out what happens now. The phone rings and it's Michael. My sister, doubled over, grabs the foot board of her bed and shouts into the phone "WHERE ARE YOU?!" He's on his way but not soon enough. She says, "FORGET IT! CHRIS IS DRIVING ME! MEET US AT THE HOSPITAL!"

I grab Andy's keys, yell over my shoulder that he's watching the girls, and away we go in Andy's car. A dilapidated Jaguar with a few minor problems, like a gas leak and a few missing gears - Park being among them. By this point, Danni would be about ready to push if she were at the hospital. The hospital that I don't know how to get to. So she's giving me directions in between contractions and telling me she doesn't want to break her water in Andy's car.

At the hospital, I carefully place Andy's (brick) parking brake under the front tire and lead Danni into the ER. While, I was jumping out of my skin, a very nice, very elderly volunteer puts Danni into a wheelchair and ambles, strolls, walks...to...an...elevator. Only to immediately mentally dope slap herself and say "what am I doing? we're on the first floor already..."

Weeks later, we arrive at Labor and Delivery where the experts thankfully take over. In no time, they've got Danni changed and on the table. She turns to me and says "I don't want to be brave. I want drugs." Right! Drugs! Got it! I rush into the hallway and request drugs from a passing nurse. She comes in, takes one look at Danni and decrees that she will not have drugs, she will have a baby. NOW.

Her water breaks and my poor sister is left with childless me, whose only known means of comfort is "squeeze my hand if it hurts." Which she does. And it hurts.

And then, because God listens to the prayers of the truly panicked, my brother-in-law arrives, cape flying behind him. Instantly, Michael is on top of the situation, finding her focal point, telling her to push, shoveling ice chips into her mouth.

I opt to stay and witness the blessed event but about two or three good pushes into it, the room starts to blacken down to one little circle, I'm sweating, nauseous, and dizzy. Holy shit! I'm going to pass out! I lean over to my sister, who clearly has other things on her mind and whisper, "you're gonna love this one, Dan, but I've gotta go throw up" and exit, stage left.

And that is how I witnessed the birth of my niece, sitting in a hospital bathroom with my head between my knees.

Happy 10th Birthday, Victoria Christine. Auntie has loved you from the very beginning.

What I Want For You

Dear Six Year Old Boy:

I want to gather up you everything you'll ever want and hand it to you on a silver plate. But because I love you, I won't.


I want you to be happy.

I want you to see the humor in people and events and yourself.

I want you to find pleasure in life's small moments. I want you to build sandcastles and create wonderful worlds and stories for them.

I want you to know that you are safe.

I want you to have adventures.

I want you to be carefree.

I want you to have the friendship and loyalty of your brother. No one will ever have your back in quite the same way he will.

I want you to make mistakes and I want you to learn from them.

I want you to be kind to yourself when you make those mistakes.

I want you to know what you want from your life and how to attain it.

I want you to have a back up plan.

I want you to find someone who will love you almost as much as I do. Someone who will laugh with you and at you. Someone who will hold your hand and be your partner and your friend.

I want you to remember not to take yourself too seriously.

I want you to remember where you come from and be proud of it.

I want you to be proud of yourself.

I want you to understand the importance of helping others.

I want you to love learning and continue the journey throughout your life.

I want you to know learning exists in places other than books and classrooms.

I want you to always, always know that we are your family and that we are here.

I want you to feel how very much you are loved by your mommy and daddy. No matter what.


Happy Birthday, my wonderful, special, brilliant, sensitive angel. Thank you for making me a mommy. I love you, up to the sky.

Always,

Mommy

This is 40

And so is this

Et tu USAA?

The gist: Buy our life insurance in the next six days or it'll cost you a bundle you nearly old bat.

Independence Day Traditions

From the time I was 8 years old until just a few years ago, this is where I spent every Fourth of July (and often the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd as well); The Hatch Shell on Boston's Esplanade, watching the Boston Pops.

The first thing everyone always says is "how do you deal with those crowds?" The answer is simple:

No kidding. Back in the day, Front Row Center involved showing up with my dad and siblings around 8:00 pm on the night of the 3rd with a tarp and a blanket to secure your spot, then hanging out all night. I lived my tween and teen years there. First under the closely watchful eye of my father and later with increasing freedom to move.

We met hundreds of people, spent time with family we might not otherwise have seen, made friends with all the police and service people you could think of, and met a ton of local celebrities. I've brought my closest friends, flirted with my cousins' friends, walked along the Charles River, and watched the sunrise over The Public Garden with my father. I know what it is to truly feel patriotic. In those moments, I'm supremely proud of my country.

The question the reporters always asked is "Is it worth it?" I've been there in the pouring rain, like today. I've been there in the broiling heat with my parents demanding I drink more water and contemplate taking us home. And I've been there in jeans and sweatshirts - and one year even a turtleneck! But as the sun begins to set and the orchestra arrives and begins to tune up, you know; it's so worth it.

As the years passed and we "went national," and especially as the world became a more dangerous place, it became necessary to get there earlier, and more and more restrictions were placed on our movement. It became more work and less fun. And that's when I said 'enough.'

The Pops used to play a few more concerts at the Esplanade throughout the month of July and even after the 4th became a major event, you could still go to the Esplanade with just a blanket and picnic basket and enjoy a wonderful summer's evening set to an amazing soundtrack. I miss those days.

Lying on a blanket in The Oval, watching the sky darken, listening to live classical music remains 'my happy place.' In my mind, I go there often.

Today, my brother and younger sister are there (sans significant others - for some reason, none of our four S.O.'s ever really 'got it'). My older sister turns 41 with her family, down in Williamsburg, VA (Happy Birthday, Dan), and my mom's joining us for a barbecue with our neighbors.

Whatever you do today, celebrate and enjoy. Happy 4th of July.

We Can't Have Nice Things - Birthday Edition

And with the third birthday, comes the third birthday present from Nana. Behold, the Fisher Price Batmobile ATV: Last night, fearing potential rain damage, I grabbed it from the front lawn and deposited it in the dining room. Rookie mistake.
This is what the hall floor now looks like. The round-ish scrapes are actually about the size of a quarter and go right down to the bare wood.

It's an outside toy. Serves me right for trying to shower.

Three

"Are you my baby?"
"No, Mommy. I'm not a baby, I'm a big boy"
"Oh, that's right. Are you my sweetie?"
"Yes, Mommy. I'm your sweetie-pie."

RC is the "yes" to every second-time mother's question. Yes, it is absolutely possible to love another child as much as you love the first. In fact, I think it may be impossible not to.

I once read that even when their children are in their forties, mothers still remember their due dates. RC's was May 7th. RC turned three on April 25th.

At 23 months, RC got the memo; it was time to be two. And RC has done so tenaciously, adamantly, with vengeance and purpose. I spend a lot of time calling my son names. A few that come to mind are maniac, relentless, and exhausting. Here are some others:

Enthusiastic
Funny
Good-Natured
Resilient
Single-Minded
Goofy
Natural
Handsome
Unaffected
Original
Clever
Physical
Lovable
Loving
Guileless
Kind
Smart
Beautiful
Unfolding
Open

To quote my friend JCK, I love him with a fierceness that is primal. Even after the most trying day, I still want to hold him. I revel in being his mommy, even at 3:00 am. I am supremely confident that there is not another person on the planet that will ever love him more than I do. And I know that without a doubt, there is nothing that could ever change how I feel about him.

I am so proud of him; of his three-year-old wit, humor, and intelligence. I admire his drive, his tenacity, albeit sometimes reluctantly. I know that Andy and I have been charged with with feeding his mind and his soul so that he can be someone he, himself can be proud of. He is the best part of each of us. We do not take this responsibility lightly, yet we relish it.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful three-year-old big boy. You make our life richer.

Mommy loves you. Up to the sky.