Last year, one of my daughters lost her lovey. The timing was bad, as it was right in the middle of Hell, though I am impressed by how well she seemed to handle the loss.
We looked everywhere. That day I retraced our steps, as did my husband - something we did over and over again for a few weeks, looking for the little pink dolly. We spent hours looking over websites and stores, looking for a replacement for the doll. We were never successful in finding her.
Our oldest daughter felt so sad for her little sister. The night Princess went missing, she offered up her own pink rag doll as a substitute until we could find Princess. While it was not the same, Belinda was accepted into her arms, and cuddled and loved, almost as much as Princess had been.
Still, our daughter would cry for her dolly, one that she had since she was an infant. Princess had all the stuffing rubbed out of her hands. Her neck had been resewn by a great grandmother during a family trip to Florida. Her plush "skin" was wearing thin in spots. She had soaked up many tears from bad dreams, time-outs, and sicknesses. It would break my heart for her to cry for her Princess Dolly, something she did as recently as last week. Sometimes, as she cried for her lost dolly, I would cry with her, feeling an ache in my own for my daughter's broken heart.
Then, last weekend, the unthinkable. Or, rather, the unimaginable.
My husband decided to work on organizing a few things in the basement and attic, throw out a few things that we no longer want or no longer need taking up space in our little yellow house. In the attic, he moved a little white cupboard that used to house toilet tissue. I'm not sure if he heard a rattle, or felt something shift, but he opened the cupboard.
He found Princess Dolly.
Ecstatic, he went running to find our daughter, who was playing in the yard. We don't think she fully understood what had happened. Something we looked so hard to find, for almost a year and a half, had been right with us the entire time, living with us, growing with us, being a part of us.
Oh, the irony.
We still don't think our daughter really understands what has happened. She has taken to sleeping with both dolls at night, carrying them each around in her arms at home, in the car. One day I even broke protocol and let the newly-found Princess Dolly follow her to school, so long as she stayed in her bookbag.
Finding Princess Dolly only underlines one thing for us... hope. Don't overlook what is in front of you, and don't ever stop looking for what you need. You never know where you will find it.
Thursday, September 22
Wednesday, September 14
Grateful
The other day, I was feeling grateful. Which is good, because I inadvertently listed it twice on my Bucket List back in May. I noticed it a few weeks later, but decided to leave the duplication in there. As I've said time and again, I do have a lot to be grateful for. Surprises me, at times, to feel that way towards some of the things in life.
Last Thursday, it rained.
And rained. And rained. The baby had a bad night sleeping, and was up far earlier in the morning than I really wanted her to be. That meant I was up earlier than I wanted to be.
I noticed the river in my front yard as I walked down the stairs. The problem is, we aren't waterfront. The storm drain had gotten overwhelmed with debris. Part of my front yard was washing down into my backyard.
I stepped into a mid-calf high "puddle" of water as I tried to dredge out the drain. Plan B had me putting on boots, since my sneakers and pants were soaked. Cars drove past me, driving through the puddles and soaking me. By the time I had cleared the drain and the water started to recede, I was not a happy woman.
The morning continued, grumpily for each of us. There were fighting children, complaining about breakfast offerings, clothing choices and lunch packing. The baby was cranky. So were Mommy and Daddy. The bus was late in arriving. I wanted a do-over.
My neighbor called, too, talking of her craving for coffee, but not being able to treat herself as the roads in town were closed due to flooding from the river. Although I was wet, cold, cranky and unshowered, I invited her to enjoy a cup of Dunkin Donuts from my kitchen side barista (i.e., my Keurig). She showed up with muffin mix, and got to work baking as I fed and napped the cranky baby.
Just to have the fun continue, the school nurse called after a while to tell me that one of my daughters had become ill on the school bus, and wanted to come home. Normal routes to the school were closed so it would take me a while to maneuver traffic to get to her. My neighbor offered to stay in my home and watch the sleeping baby and my other daughter, who did not have school that day.
The quiet in my van was just what I needed. I am not sure which song was on the radio on my way to school, but whatever it was lifted my spirits. I found my tummy-sick daughter waiting for me in the nurse's office. Her face lit up as she saw me, though she did look like she wasn't feeling very well at all.
I watched her in the backseat as we drove home. A feeling of calm washed over me, I can't really explain it. My bad mood was gone, and in place of it I was grateful.
I had this unexpected chance to love on this daughter today. I spent the day doting on her, not looking for accolades but just a few hugs.
Even though my pants and shoes and whole being were soaked that morning, I had pants and shoes and whole being to get soaked in the first place.
I had this wonderful, blessed, unexpected, amazing baby to smile at me each morning, even at the awful hour of 5:30.
I had a fantastic husband who appreciated that I didn't wake him to stop the approaching tide in our lawn, rather ebbed the flow myself (though he did wake up, as my yelling at the passing cars was loud and I had left the front door open).
I had a great neighbor and friend who knows everything about me but loves me anyway, and offered her help to me the best way she knew how that day, taking care of me when I needed a little pampering but didn't know enough to ask.
I had so many friends who would laugh at my story as I recounted it to them, among others, and smile at me and my family as we made our way through life.
I was even grateful to the driver of the van I passed. Funny how that vehicle shows up at exactly those moments when I need reminding how my life used to be, how bad it could be, and how good it really is.
I am grateful.
Last Thursday, it rained.
And rained. And rained. The baby had a bad night sleeping, and was up far earlier in the morning than I really wanted her to be. That meant I was up earlier than I wanted to be.
I noticed the river in my front yard as I walked down the stairs. The problem is, we aren't waterfront. The storm drain had gotten overwhelmed with debris. Part of my front yard was washing down into my backyard.
I stepped into a mid-calf high "puddle" of water as I tried to dredge out the drain. Plan B had me putting on boots, since my sneakers and pants were soaked. Cars drove past me, driving through the puddles and soaking me. By the time I had cleared the drain and the water started to recede, I was not a happy woman.
The morning continued, grumpily for each of us. There were fighting children, complaining about breakfast offerings, clothing choices and lunch packing. The baby was cranky. So were Mommy and Daddy. The bus was late in arriving. I wanted a do-over.
My neighbor called, too, talking of her craving for coffee, but not being able to treat herself as the roads in town were closed due to flooding from the river. Although I was wet, cold, cranky and unshowered, I invited her to enjoy a cup of Dunkin Donuts from my kitchen side barista (i.e., my Keurig). She showed up with muffin mix, and got to work baking as I fed and napped the cranky baby.
Just to have the fun continue, the school nurse called after a while to tell me that one of my daughters had become ill on the school bus, and wanted to come home. Normal routes to the school were closed so it would take me a while to maneuver traffic to get to her. My neighbor offered to stay in my home and watch the sleeping baby and my other daughter, who did not have school that day.
The quiet in my van was just what I needed. I am not sure which song was on the radio on my way to school, but whatever it was lifted my spirits. I found my tummy-sick daughter waiting for me in the nurse's office. Her face lit up as she saw me, though she did look like she wasn't feeling very well at all.
I watched her in the backseat as we drove home. A feeling of calm washed over me, I can't really explain it. My bad mood was gone, and in place of it I was grateful.
I had this unexpected chance to love on this daughter today. I spent the day doting on her, not looking for accolades but just a few hugs.
Even though my pants and shoes and whole being were soaked that morning, I had pants and shoes and whole being to get soaked in the first place.
I had this wonderful, blessed, unexpected, amazing baby to smile at me each morning, even at the awful hour of 5:30.
I had a fantastic husband who appreciated that I didn't wake him to stop the approaching tide in our lawn, rather ebbed the flow myself (though he did wake up, as my yelling at the passing cars was loud and I had left the front door open).
I had a great neighbor and friend who knows everything about me but loves me anyway, and offered her help to me the best way she knew how that day, taking care of me when I needed a little pampering but didn't know enough to ask.
I had so many friends who would laugh at my story as I recounted it to them, among others, and smile at me and my family as we made our way through life.
I was even grateful to the driver of the van I passed. Funny how that vehicle shows up at exactly those moments when I need reminding how my life used to be, how bad it could be, and how good it really is.
I am grateful.
Saturday, September 3
Grace and the Egret
A Heron and Egret totem teaches balance;
the ability to progress and evolve --
to walk into deeper waters without fear.
I wrote a note the other day. It was very short. It said,
"I am sorry. I forgive you."
While I was shopping for bottled water in preparation of the hurricane that hit the East Coast last weekend, I happened upon a person from my past in the parking lot of a grocery store in town.
Since the day in the meadow this past July I decided that I was going to look everyone involved in that sad chapter of my life in the eye. They very nearly broke me. Let them look away and run: I'm done. So, I looked her in the eye.
I did not say anything, but will always remember the words that were shouted at me in the darkened light. I will always remember the shrill, cackling laugh that followed me across the parking lot and into the store. It was rather frightening.
The store had no water, and shortly thereafter I walked out. The car was still there, but she was not. I got into my van and realized I was shaking. I sat for a few minutes until I calmed down. I began to write a note in response, encouraging blame to be placed not on me, but where blame is due.
The song on the radio caught my attention. It was talking about "grace." I stopped and listened. I began to write a note of apology and forgiveness. Before I could finish, she appeared and got into her car, and proceeded to drive the parking lots, nearly each row, before leaving altogether.
Shaken, I drove home.
Thursday, while shopping with my children, I saw someone else from my past in the very same store I was in a week earlier. I hesitated for a second, and simply walked around him, finishing my shopping. When I got to the parking lot, a silver van was parked next to my rental (my van was in the shop, and my rental was white with Florida plates). I took it as a sign, and wrote a note, which I left on the windshield.
"I am sorry.
I forgive you.
-Amy"
You know that I have been battling with forgiveness for quite sometime. I figured that taking a leap would push me, and get me on that road to where I can forgive myself.
From there, I took my children to the park. When we got out of our van, I noticed a white egret sitting on the shore of the river across the street. His neck was stretched very long and graceful.
I did not see the bird as we left the park, but I can tell you that from the moment I left the note, I have had a certain peace that I have not felt in a long while. I am not sure how long it will last, if it is even true, but you also know that I believe everything happens for a reason, and everything has meaning.
This is where the healing begins.
Thursday, September 1
Wish Upon a Star
I meant to post about this a few weeks ago, but life has gotten in the way of life, and I'm just now getting the chance.
When I was younger, I remember watching the Perseids meteor shower with my father. Sometimes we were home, other times on vacation. I remember when I was 12 my father waking me up in the pre-dawn hours to sit pool and oceanside in Cape May, New Jersey, and watch the tremendous lightshow display. That is one of my favorite memories that I will always carry with me.
Fastforward to adulthood. Some years I have watched, others I have not. A few years ago, I watched the light show with my father and youngest brother from the slide on my backyard swingset. I was, of course, pregnant, though I do not remember with whom!
The shower this year peaked on August 13, and 2:00 am was the best time to see it. As I watched the news that night, I promised myself that, if I were awake at that time, I would go outside to watch. Chances were I would be, as someone still enjoys a few rounds with mommy every night!
The baby woke at 1:30 to nurse, and I found myself back in my room at 1:58 am. I did not break my promise to myself. I slipped on my robe, and slipped out the door.
The air was cool, the night sky bright. The full moon made it hard to discern the meteors shooting across the sky. Within a few moments I saw five. Satisfied, I returned to my bed.
I admit that though I was quiet, I did try to rouse my sleeping husband. More so in the last few years than ever before I firmly believe that everything has it's reason for being part of our lives. We were presented with this opportunity...we should take it.
So we wrapped ourselves in our big blue blanket and snuggled in the corner of our deck. We each saw several meteors, and the last one we each saw together. Together, we returned to our home.
Tuesday, August 23
Don't Wake the Baby!
One of the pieces of advice I got when we started our family was to never wake a sleeping baby. Even when doctors told me to wake my girls so they got the proper feedings in, I never did. It just didn't seem to make sense. You finally get your little one to go to sleep, why in the world would you chance anything good and wake that child up? Sure, some days I was extremely uncomfortable for a time, as my children drink "mommy milk." Small price to pay in exchange for a happy little bundle.
Fast forward eight years.
Yesterday, I had to wake up my sleeping little bundle. It happens more often than I think I really want to admit.
Naptimes and the schedule for a family of 6 very often don't mix very well. I feel badly that my littlest bundle of hope and baby babble is a carseat napper most of the time. Luckily, we have been blessed with perhaps the most wonderful baby on the planet, right from the beginning with her 2 hour labor.
As my other girls put on shoes and got ready for yet another drive across town for this or that, I tiptoed into the baby's room to rouse her from her nap, once again cut a little too short. She was sleeping on her tummy, her little tooschie pushed up into the air, her left cheek smooshed and puffy against the mattress of her crib. I laid my head down next to the mattress to watch her sleep for a minute, taking in all the baby smells in her room. The diapers. Wipes. The scent of her sheets washed in a baby detergent. The warmth of her sleeping breath.
Gently I stroked her fuzzy head, patted her back. She made a small little cry and I picked her up, hugging her close to me, and carried her downstairs. As I put her into her carseat, she caught sight of all her big sisters, and gave us all one of her famous toothy smiles. Her legs started kicking in her carseat, smiling, ready for another trip in the van!
Fast forward eight years.
Yesterday, I had to wake up my sleeping little bundle. It happens more often than I think I really want to admit.
Naptimes and the schedule for a family of 6 very often don't mix very well. I feel badly that my littlest bundle of hope and baby babble is a carseat napper most of the time. Luckily, we have been blessed with perhaps the most wonderful baby on the planet, right from the beginning with her 2 hour labor.
As my other girls put on shoes and got ready for yet another drive across town for this or that, I tiptoed into the baby's room to rouse her from her nap, once again cut a little too short. She was sleeping on her tummy, her little tooschie pushed up into the air, her left cheek smooshed and puffy against the mattress of her crib. I laid my head down next to the mattress to watch her sleep for a minute, taking in all the baby smells in her room. The diapers. Wipes. The scent of her sheets washed in a baby detergent. The warmth of her sleeping breath.
Gently I stroked her fuzzy head, patted her back. She made a small little cry and I picked her up, hugging her close to me, and carried her downstairs. As I put her into her carseat, she caught sight of all her big sisters, and gave us all one of her famous toothy smiles. Her legs started kicking in her carseat, smiling, ready for another trip in the van!
Wednesday, August 17
8 Years
I've spent today celebrating. Driving. Eating. Buying. Treating. Eight years of my baby girl, and her amazing smile. And her kindness, selfless cheerleading for her sisters and friends. Her silly dancing and struggles with learning.
Yesterday, we moved her into her own room. Freshly painted in "teenager colors." She is excited. In the matter of one minute, she grew. Suddenly, I am finally excited to see her growing up, being a big kid. Don't get me wrong, I miss her baby-ness. But I am so looking forward to what she is going to become.
What a difference a day can make.
Yesterday, we moved her into her own room. Freshly painted in "teenager colors." She is excited. In the matter of one minute, she grew. Suddenly, I am finally excited to see her growing up, being a big kid. Don't get me wrong, I miss her baby-ness. But I am so looking forward to what she is going to become.
What a difference a day can make.
Wednesday, August 10
I Don't Need Credit
"I give you a lot of credit."
I hear that a lot. When I am out and about running errands, shopping, park-playing, library-ing or basically doing anything with my children. The sight of so many little blonde heads altogether draws a lot of eyes.
Just today, we went to Wal-mart. We passed a woman as we were walking in, and I saw her cursory glance take in all the little bodies (plus an extra that I had picked up for the day, just for good measure), and she shook her head. Another couple stopped to count and then asked, "Five girls?" "This one isn't mine," I replied. (Her dark hair and brown eyes should have given her away! But often my extra head for the day could easily qualify as one of my own.)
The thing is, I don't need credit. It's not a big deal to me to take a gaggle of children lots of places. It simply means they have more fun. Sure, they distract me, and I forget things on my list, or get talked into buying a new brand of cereal. That's really not so bad in the scheme of things.
I don't need credit. I'm just being "Mom."
I hear that a lot. When I am out and about running errands, shopping, park-playing, library-ing or basically doing anything with my children. The sight of so many little blonde heads altogether draws a lot of eyes.
Just today, we went to Wal-mart. We passed a woman as we were walking in, and I saw her cursory glance take in all the little bodies (plus an extra that I had picked up for the day, just for good measure), and she shook her head. Another couple stopped to count and then asked, "Five girls?" "This one isn't mine," I replied. (Her dark hair and brown eyes should have given her away! But often my extra head for the day could easily qualify as one of my own.)
The thing is, I don't need credit. It's not a big deal to me to take a gaggle of children lots of places. It simply means they have more fun. Sure, they distract me, and I forget things on my list, or get talked into buying a new brand of cereal. That's really not so bad in the scheme of things.
I don't need credit. I'm just being "Mom."
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