Today is the anniversary of the day baby Hart died. As a way to honor his memory, I'm going to roll around and wallow in my grief. I'm going to face it honestly and head on, without regard for social mores or self consciousness.
When your son dies it sucks-no it SUCKS. It doesn't "stink" it isn't "unpleasant" it doesn't leave a person "distressed" or "distraught". It SUCKS and there aren't enough faces in the world to punch, garbage cans to kick, or sand castles to stomp on.
People judge you by how you handle your grief. It upsets others to see a person mourning, and brings them comfort when "you're holding up well".
Euphemisms abound-and not that I don't appreciate the old "he's in a better place" as much as the next guy, but guess what? WHO CARES???? My son may be better off in heaven, but I'M NOT! I MISS HIM EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY! So you can take your euphemisms and spread them where the unicorns roam amongst the rainbows-because today, I don't want to hear it. I want to wallow in my grief. I want to miss my son and THAT'S OKAY! I understand that it is a burden to have to deal with someone who is acting and feeling completely unreasonable-I have teenagers. It's exhausting-I get it. And the natural inclination is to comfort with words that will make the person snap back to a state of reason (and it would be nice if they could at least be grateful for the service!)
But words of comfort aren't what I need right now. Honestly, I can't even hear your words right now. Grief comes in many forms-from all consuming (which is why I can't hear your pearls of wisdom right now) to subtle-my grief is always with me, as my breath-I am not always aware of it, but it's always with me. And if you can't relate or understand-that's okay, but please extend to me grace or wide berth.
I sometimes think about the person I was before I loved Hart. The person I see in my rear view mirror was carefree, quick to laugh, blissfully ignorant. I will never be that person again. It's not conscious, and I don't believe people look at me and think "gosh, I bet she used to be footloose and fancy free," but I recognize the person I once was and as hard as I try to return to that person, the further she slips from my grasp. It feels like some ancient tragedy come to life-as though my fatal flaw- having experienced unfathomable loss-will now hang over me like a mantle-the inevitable devise that guides the course of my journey.
I cannot talk about Hart's life without talking about his death and that makes people uncomfortable, I get it and I'm so sorry for your discomfort, but guess what? My empathy for your discomfort is outweighed by my desire to share my son-so there!
I feel very fortunate to have a reservoir of empathy
I feel very impatient when I hear what other people call "tragedy"
I feel grateful that most people can call a hangnail tragic and not know better (or is it worse?)
I feel incredibly wise
I feel remarkably ignorant
I feel blessed by perspective
I feel cursed with perspective
I feel like a member of an exclusive club- a private knowing that defies explanation
I feel lucky-I feel like my children are some of the most empathetic, kind hearted creatures in the world. And I feel like when they are disappointed or hurt and someone says "well, that's part of life, people need to experience disappointment-it defines character" that I want to punch them in the face and say "are you freakin' kidding me? WE KNOW ABOUT DISAPPOINTMENT"
I feel like people are stupid
I feel like people are amazing
I feel like there are enough days in the year to hold it together that I can totally fall apart one day each year.
I feel like I can be totally happy for you and sad for me at the same time.
I feel frustrated that there are social guidelines for measuring how one is dealing with loss. It is so unique for each of us, that there is not one path.
I feel grateful for society's expectations of how people behave as they grieve. Sometimes, when you have no idea what to do or how to do it, it's nice to be told.
I get very defensive when people use depression and sadness as synonyms.
I feel like I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but that if I could trade places with my worst enemy I would feel like they don't deserve to be in my shoes.
I feel selfish and selfless
I feel like every one's life deserves to be honored and cherished and that it is a tribute to them to be missed. And that if I weren't so sad and missing Hart today-what would that say about him? and me?
And finally and most importantly, I feel like it's okay to be sad. It's okay to live the entire day with tears in my eyes and snot dripping out of my nose. It's not pretty, but it is beautiful!
.
Welcome to The Cottage! I hope you delight in the wacky exploits of our large, boisterous family. Our motley crew, a steadfast Dad, a sarcastic Mom, 6 fabulous children, 2 dogs, and 3 cats, lives in a charming cottage surrounded by way too much nature. Enjoy your visit!
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Here we go again! Remembering Baby Hart in Word and Song!
Yesterday was the day. It happens every year around this time. My beloved little boy's birthday is drawing near and "the crying" has begun. There is a clear progression that occurs that precipitates "the crying" yet, it always takes me by surprise.
First, around the end of October, a quiet pall, slowly, stealthy, gently drapes itself around my day. It occurs so subtly that I don't notice until it's been in residence for about a week and I've exhausted all other excuses for my irritable (and I'm sure irritating) behavior. Then I get annoyed. Annoyed that I have no more control over my emotions, that my ability to compartmentalize my emotions or at least put a pause on them has completely abandon me. It's my gift, the gift of getting through the day, the gift that enables me to get out of bed each morning, to find joy in each day-and suddenly it's gone. And that's completely annoying!
But still, I go on, annoyed and morose. Short-tempered and appalled at other's (seemingly) complete lack of perspective, at the same time I, myself, over react to the most insignificant slight. With an enormous amount of eye rolling (well, even more than usual!), on I march.
Then, without an ounce of subtlety and complete lack of gentleness, "the crying" begins. Unlike the previous incarnation of grief, this step begins quite abruptly, but still, I am slow to recognize it for what it is. This is what happened yesterday. Like a spontaneous nosebleed, one moment I was fine, the next, I was spewing bodily fluid.
I was driving to the grocery, singing "Little Talks" by Of Monsters & Men, enjoying the moment, enjoying the fact that my mind was completely blank, a rare moment of complete lack of responsibility to anyone but myself (and my fellow road mates). And suddenly I realized I was crying. Full-on tears rolling down my cheeks, runny nose, quivering lip-the whole nine yards (and sadly, I'm not a pretty crier-which, ironically, always makes me cry harder!)
Unlike typical crying, "the crying" often comes before thinking, before the even slightest awareness of melancholy. But then, like a dam breaking, the thinking begins and the hurt takes hold. The what-ifs, the should-ofs, the longing come rushing to the front of my mind. I think about Hart, who I miss to infinity and beyond each and every moment of each and every day. I think of my steadfast husband, who is the only other person who comes close to experiencing these same emotions, questions, thoughts and that I am so grateful to share this life with him. I think of my surviving children who are the most amazing people I know- even more so for their capacity to love and empathize, for their ability to put things in perspective and to see things with a complete lack of perspective and because they know what it's like to experience a horrific loss and get up the next day and find joy in the world!
And then I think of the hurt they've experienced and it breaks my heart and I think no one should ever have to know that kind of pain. And I think of Baby Girl who never got to meet her brother, and this just about kills me. And then I think what an enormous emotional price we have paid and I feel guilty, then I think it was completely worth it and that if I could trade one minute of Hart's life to erase all of the pain and heartache, I wouldn't do it.
I think about how lucky I am. How I got to hold and love an amazing little soul. I got to know, hold and fall completely in love with someone who, scientifically speaking, was never even supposed to be here-not even for a minute.
Then as suddenly as it came, "the crying" was gone. "The crying" was gone but the feeling-the feeling remained. It was the same feeling, but completely altered-it was a feeling of warmth- a knowing, a satiation-still as profound, still as intense, but filled with comfort-the same, but different.
"The Crying" Day 2
This morning, about a half-hour into my early morning, family-free quiet time, "the crying" came back for a visit. I know this is "the crying's" motis operandi, but still it caught me by surprise. I will have to work harder at being on guard- expecting the unexpected-but, as a person who jumps every time someone opens a can of Pilsbury biscuits (the pop always gets me) chances are I will continue to be caught off-guard!
Two of the moppets woke-up early (curses!) and saw "the crying". They asked what was wrong and I told them that I was missing baby Hart. I told them that it's okay to be sad and that they shouldn't be upset that I was crying. (I feel very strongly that children don't think it's wrong to be sad or that it should be kept secret). Of course they became quiet and thoughtful-then Baby Girl did what Baby Girl does-she wrote a song! Unbelievably, it occured to me to video her performance (on my phone) because she is the queen of one hit wonders-(actually, she can't remember any of her songs well enough to repeat them) and I didn't ever want to forget this fabulous moment! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQKV5zjdsPA&feature=plcp
It made me smile through my tears and even made me think (for a very brief moment) that early morning quiet time is over-rated!
First, around the end of October, a quiet pall, slowly, stealthy, gently drapes itself around my day. It occurs so subtly that I don't notice until it's been in residence for about a week and I've exhausted all other excuses for my irritable (and I'm sure irritating) behavior. Then I get annoyed. Annoyed that I have no more control over my emotions, that my ability to compartmentalize my emotions or at least put a pause on them has completely abandon me. It's my gift, the gift of getting through the day, the gift that enables me to get out of bed each morning, to find joy in each day-and suddenly it's gone. And that's completely annoying!
But still, I go on, annoyed and morose. Short-tempered and appalled at other's (seemingly) complete lack of perspective, at the same time I, myself, over react to the most insignificant slight. With an enormous amount of eye rolling (well, even more than usual!), on I march.
Then, without an ounce of subtlety and complete lack of gentleness, "the crying" begins. Unlike the previous incarnation of grief, this step begins quite abruptly, but still, I am slow to recognize it for what it is. This is what happened yesterday. Like a spontaneous nosebleed, one moment I was fine, the next, I was spewing bodily fluid.
I was driving to the grocery, singing "Little Talks" by Of Monsters & Men, enjoying the moment, enjoying the fact that my mind was completely blank, a rare moment of complete lack of responsibility to anyone but myself (and my fellow road mates). And suddenly I realized I was crying. Full-on tears rolling down my cheeks, runny nose, quivering lip-the whole nine yards (and sadly, I'm not a pretty crier-which, ironically, always makes me cry harder!)
Unlike typical crying, "the crying" often comes before thinking, before the even slightest awareness of melancholy. But then, like a dam breaking, the thinking begins and the hurt takes hold. The what-ifs, the should-ofs, the longing come rushing to the front of my mind. I think about Hart, who I miss to infinity and beyond each and every moment of each and every day. I think of my steadfast husband, who is the only other person who comes close to experiencing these same emotions, questions, thoughts and that I am so grateful to share this life with him. I think of my surviving children who are the most amazing people I know- even more so for their capacity to love and empathize, for their ability to put things in perspective and to see things with a complete lack of perspective and because they know what it's like to experience a horrific loss and get up the next day and find joy in the world!
And then I think of the hurt they've experienced and it breaks my heart and I think no one should ever have to know that kind of pain. And I think of Baby Girl who never got to meet her brother, and this just about kills me. And then I think what an enormous emotional price we have paid and I feel guilty, then I think it was completely worth it and that if I could trade one minute of Hart's life to erase all of the pain and heartache, I wouldn't do it.
I think about how lucky I am. How I got to hold and love an amazing little soul. I got to know, hold and fall completely in love with someone who, scientifically speaking, was never even supposed to be here-not even for a minute.
Then as suddenly as it came, "the crying" was gone. "The crying" was gone but the feeling-the feeling remained. It was the same feeling, but completely altered-it was a feeling of warmth- a knowing, a satiation-still as profound, still as intense, but filled with comfort-the same, but different.
"The Crying" Day 2
This morning, about a half-hour into my early morning, family-free quiet time, "the crying" came back for a visit. I know this is "the crying's" motis operandi, but still it caught me by surprise. I will have to work harder at being on guard- expecting the unexpected-but, as a person who jumps every time someone opens a can of Pilsbury biscuits (the pop always gets me) chances are I will continue to be caught off-guard!
Two of the moppets woke-up early (curses!) and saw "the crying". They asked what was wrong and I told them that I was missing baby Hart. I told them that it's okay to be sad and that they shouldn't be upset that I was crying. (I feel very strongly that children don't think it's wrong to be sad or that it should be kept secret). Of course they became quiet and thoughtful-then Baby Girl did what Baby Girl does-she wrote a song! Unbelievably, it occured to me to video her performance (on my phone) because she is the queen of one hit wonders-(actually, she can't remember any of her songs well enough to repeat them) and I didn't ever want to forget this fabulous moment! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQKV5zjdsPA&feature=plcp
It made me smile through my tears and even made me think (for a very brief moment) that early morning quiet time is over-rated!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Jackson Pollock Appreciation Day!
Saturday I woke up in the mood for some big, fabulous, messy, artistic fun. I envisioned an unbridled, no-holds-barred, painting fest-a la' Jackson Pollock! And then...I had a vision of an unbridled, no-holds-barred, painting fest-a la' Farrah Fawcett! Before I let the second vision eclipse the first, I told the moppets my plan! (I do this thing when I am a little apprehensive to dive into an idea, I say it out loud, in front of witnesses-witnesses that have the potential to be very annoying if I don't follow through!) So, it was official, our very own Jackson Pollock appreciation day was born!
Although I don't believe that art can be "wrong"- I do believe it can be ugly. In order to tip the odds in favor of having an eye-pleasing object d'art,at the end of the day, I bought three canvases-2 for practicing and one that would become our "masterpiece" (or at the very least-practice canvas number 3!) Additionally, I chose paint colors that (in my opinion) would work well together and were pleasing to me! But most importantly, I also chose to remain consistently vague about what we would do with our masterpieces after we finished-just in case.
The only real "rule" I declared was that we couldn't touch the canvas. We could use any tool or style as long as there was no contact with the surface of the artwork! In the beginning there was a definite food fight mentality, but after a few hits, because there weren't any rules forbidding it, the appeal of splattering, sloshing and throwing paint at each other quickly waned and the desire to create art took hold!
I must admit that I had to let go some minor control issues and go with the flow, but once I did, we all had a blast! Perhaps celebrating abstract impressionism a few days before your cousin's wedding isn't the best timing (sorry, Andrew-Baby Girl still has some really stubborn red paint in her hair!) but what a small price to pay for such an awesome experience and life-long memory!
Although I don't believe that art can be "wrong"- I do believe it can be ugly. In order to tip the odds in favor of having an eye-pleasing object d'art,at the end of the day, I bought three canvases-2 for practicing and one that would become our "masterpiece" (or at the very least-practice canvas number 3!) Additionally, I chose paint colors that (in my opinion) would work well together and were pleasing to me! But most importantly, I also chose to remain consistently vague about what we would do with our masterpieces after we finished-just in case. 
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Vince Vaughn reads my blog?
Okay, I just got this email and had to share! Very funny! It seems as though one Mr. Vince Vaughn has teamed up with CBS and Lloyd Schwartz (son of The Brady Bunch creator Sherwood Schwartz) to create a reboot of The Brady Bunch!
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| photo by: James Caws |
I didn't know Vince Vaughn read your blog! Check this out!
http://news.yahoo.com/brady-bunch-reboot-vince-vaughn-works-cbs-010205176.html
Serendipity: Brady-Style
Our summer of living Brady-fully has gotten off to a bit of a slow start. Thanks to (in no particular order of distraction) a tornado that hit the Cottage in June, First Born breaking his foot and the surgery that followed, Puppy's surgery and subsequent self-removal of stitches, Steadfast Husband's travel schedule and well, it's summertime and the living is easy! But yesterday, serendipity struck in Brady-like fashion.
Remember the Brady Bunch episode when Greg and Bobby got stuck in Sam the butcher's meat locker? They were locked in until Greg broke the glass out of the window, Bobby squeezed through the small opening, used the payphone to call for help and saved the day! Well, the other day we had an incident here that reminded me so much of that episode!
We decided to take an over-night trip to the beach on Sunday. We had such a great time, but First Born decided to stay home (the thought of crutches on the beach didn't appeal to him for some wacky reason!) We spoke to him a couple of times Sunday evening, but when we tried to call him mid-morning on Monday, we didn't get an answer. We didn't think much of it, his convalescence seems to consist of sleeping-a lot!
We returned home at about 3 in the afternoon. When we opened the garage door, First Born was sitting on the top step that leads into the house. "I've been locked out since 10 O'clock this morning!"
I said, "I don't have a key." Turning to steadfast husband, "Do you have a key?"
"No, I have never had a key."
Yikes, (did I mention, we didn't make a restroom stop on the way home, "because we're almost home, you can hold it"?)
An urgency washed over the crowd.
First Born informed us that he had checked every window and door and they were all locked (he must have done this between snacks- judging from the wrappers littering the floor, he clearly passed much of the time eating.) So, while Steadfast Husband went around checking all the windows and doors, I went through door by door and window by window asking if he had checked them, "What about my room, did you check the one in my room? My bathroom?" and on it went.
By the way, children seem to find this questioning terribly annoying.
Halfway through my interrogation, I noticed that First Born was in his boxers! Oh the luck! Could this get any better? Truly, I imagined myself telling the story and saying, "too bad he wasn't in his underwear." But he was!
It turns out he was going to grab something from the garage pantry for breakfast and evidently when he is the only one home, he doesn't feel the need to cover up his skivvies-nor does he wear shoes or carry his phone!
As I was relishing in the good fortune of these newly realized details, it dawned on me that we were still locked out and I began to calculate the price of a locksmith verses the cost of replacing a window.
Steadfast Husband confirmed that everything was in fact locked-up tight (which made First Born roll his eyes) and began to remove the door frame. When he was about halfway through, we heard a faint, "Stop... I'm in... I'm in the house!" thump, thump, thump. nothing.
So we did what any reasonable folks would do- we started pounding on the door, yelling, "Let us in! Let us in!" Ta-da! Youngest Son flung open the door!
It turns out that Youngest Son was able to crawl through the firewood doors to get into the house! yippee! Let the heroic rumpus commence!
The tag: (the part of the show that comes after the final commercial break)
Close-up of First Born's furrowing brow, he can't decide if he is happy to finally be back in the house or totally annoyed that his little brother was able to get into the house in little more than 1/100 of the time he had been trying to get in! He cracks a smile. Fade to black.
Remember the Brady Bunch episode when Greg and Bobby got stuck in Sam the butcher's meat locker? They were locked in until Greg broke the glass out of the window, Bobby squeezed through the small opening, used the payphone to call for help and saved the day! Well, the other day we had an incident here that reminded me so much of that episode!
We decided to take an over-night trip to the beach on Sunday. We had such a great time, but First Born decided to stay home (the thought of crutches on the beach didn't appeal to him for some wacky reason!) We spoke to him a couple of times Sunday evening, but when we tried to call him mid-morning on Monday, we didn't get an answer. We didn't think much of it, his convalescence seems to consist of sleeping-a lot!
We returned home at about 3 in the afternoon. When we opened the garage door, First Born was sitting on the top step that leads into the house. "I've been locked out since 10 O'clock this morning!"
I said, "I don't have a key." Turning to steadfast husband, "Do you have a key?"
"No, I have never had a key."
Yikes, (did I mention, we didn't make a restroom stop on the way home, "because we're almost home, you can hold it"?)
An urgency washed over the crowd.
First Born informed us that he had checked every window and door and they were all locked (he must have done this between snacks- judging from the wrappers littering the floor, he clearly passed much of the time eating.) So, while Steadfast Husband went around checking all the windows and doors, I went through door by door and window by window asking if he had checked them, "What about my room, did you check the one in my room? My bathroom?" and on it went.
By the way, children seem to find this questioning terribly annoying.
Halfway through my interrogation, I noticed that First Born was in his boxers! Oh the luck! Could this get any better? Truly, I imagined myself telling the story and saying, "too bad he wasn't in his underwear." But he was!
It turns out he was going to grab something from the garage pantry for breakfast and evidently when he is the only one home, he doesn't feel the need to cover up his skivvies-nor does he wear shoes or carry his phone!
As I was relishing in the good fortune of these newly realized details, it dawned on me that we were still locked out and I began to calculate the price of a locksmith verses the cost of replacing a window.
Steadfast Husband confirmed that everything was in fact locked-up tight (which made First Born roll his eyes) and began to remove the door frame. When he was about halfway through, we heard a faint, "Stop... I'm in... I'm in the house!" thump, thump, thump. nothing.
So we did what any reasonable folks would do- we started pounding on the door, yelling, "Let us in! Let us in!" Ta-da! Youngest Son flung open the door!
It turns out that Youngest Son was able to crawl through the firewood doors to get into the house! yippee! Let the heroic rumpus commence!
The tag: (the part of the show that comes after the final commercial break)
Close-up of First Born's furrowing brow, he can't decide if he is happy to finally be back in the house or totally annoyed that his little brother was able to get into the house in little more than 1/100 of the time he had been trying to get in! He cracks a smile. Fade to black.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Girls Night Out-Brady Style-ish!
The other night I went out with some girlfriends for drinks and a movie. We were planning on seeing"Magic Mike"-which was so exciting, because I didn't even know there was a movie about the Houdini-like prowess of one Mr. Mike Brady! But, as it turns out, the movie wasn't about Mike Brady, but some other guy named Mike (sad face) and an entirely different type of magic. I must admit, I am just judging the movie by its poster; the movie was completely sold out and we ended up going to dinner instead.
It turns out none of my friends had read my Summer of Living Brady-fully blog yet-which explains why they seemed perplexed when I uttered "far out" "outta sight" and "that sounds groovy" (clearly, I need to expand my Brady lingo).
It also explains why when I made a rude comment (okay, really funny joke) that it was a good thing Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston never had children because their faces are so angular, their babies would have stop sign-shaped heads-no one said "that isn't very Carol Brady-ish of you." Instead, they commented on the pain of birthing a baby with stop sign-shaped head (or a baby with a sign-shaped head of any kind!).
As a nod to Carol Brady, I didn't order champagne (it has a terrible effect on the Brady Matriarch-it makes her dizzy and/or the bubbles make her sneeze). I ordered a beer, although I don't really know if Ma Brady drank beer either. According to the waitress, the type of beer I ordered was supposed to taste like cider-that seemed a little more Brady-friendly! In reality it just tasted like icky beer.
So my night out with my girlfriends, in the spirit of Carol Brady was kind of exhausting and not very successful. Next time, I may just borrow a line from Marcia and tell them, "Something suddenly came up," and leave Carol at home!
Meanwhile, my 2 middle moppets were arguing over a board game the other day and Youngest Son looked up from his book, shrugged and said, "they should just take turns," then continued reading. (It was like a line taken directly from Sherwood Schwartz himself!)
I said, "That idea is far out!" He looked up again, recognition washing over his face and started giggling! I love when my children get me!
I'm so excited, our Brady Bunch project for this weekend is one of the following:
-make a teeter-totter so we can have a teetor-totter record setting contest
-make a dunk tank (which will not be for the school carnival, but for our own personal enjoyment!)
Far out!
It turns out none of my friends had read my Summer of Living Brady-fully blog yet-which explains why they seemed perplexed when I uttered "far out" "outta sight" and "that sounds groovy" (clearly, I need to expand my Brady lingo).
It also explains why when I made a rude comment (okay, really funny joke) that it was a good thing Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston never had children because their faces are so angular, their babies would have stop sign-shaped heads-no one said "that isn't very Carol Brady-ish of you." Instead, they commented on the pain of birthing a baby with stop sign-shaped head (or a baby with a sign-shaped head of any kind!).
As a nod to Carol Brady, I didn't order champagne (it has a terrible effect on the Brady Matriarch-it makes her dizzy and/or the bubbles make her sneeze). I ordered a beer, although I don't really know if Ma Brady drank beer either. According to the waitress, the type of beer I ordered was supposed to taste like cider-that seemed a little more Brady-friendly! In reality it just tasted like icky beer.
So my night out with my girlfriends, in the spirit of Carol Brady was kind of exhausting and not very successful. Next time, I may just borrow a line from Marcia and tell them, "Something suddenly came up," and leave Carol at home!
Meanwhile, my 2 middle moppets were arguing over a board game the other day and Youngest Son looked up from his book, shrugged and said, "they should just take turns," then continued reading. (It was like a line taken directly from Sherwood Schwartz himself!)
I said, "That idea is far out!" He looked up again, recognition washing over his face and started giggling! I love when my children get me!
I'm so excited, our Brady Bunch project for this weekend is one of the following:
-make a teeter-totter so we can have a teetor-totter record setting contest
-make a dunk tank (which will not be for the school carnival, but for our own personal enjoyment!)
Far out!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
porkchops and applesauce, that's swell!
I finally told the moppets the plan for the Sammons Family Summer Fun! First, I had them guess what it was-because I knew no one would guess, and that always makes guessing games way more fun, plus it makes for a more dramatic reveal!
So without further ado, we are living the summer like the Brady family. Not football quarterback and super model style, but late 60's, early 70's sitcom, The Brady Bunch-style! Yippeeeeeee!
I must confess that I am way more excited about this than anyone else in the "bunch"-although Baby Girl jumped on board quickly and started saying everything twice, once normally and the 2nd time with a lisp-a la' Cindy Brady!
The rest of the moppets expressed 5 emotional stages that would make Elizabeth Kubler-Ross proud:
denial- "There is absolutely no way I am doing this,"
confusion-"Okay, does this mean we are going to Hawaii?"
pride- "Oh my gosh, Mom, that is totally cheesey,"
bargaining- okay, well this is actually how I got everyone to reach acceptance!
acceptance-see above!
So how did I really get my fabulous family to agree to this experiment? Well, first I explained to them it would be outta sight to build our own dunk tank, enjoy sack races and square dancing, try to break the longest teeter-tottering record, build a house of cards, make our own pilgrim movie, go to King's Island amusement park in Cincinatti and much, much more. I also promised them that if everyone went along, I would get my hair cut Carol Brady-style at the end of the summer! That pretty much sealed the deal! (Although they are starting to realize that they will actually have to be seen with me!)
The biggest mental hitch in the giddy-up for everyone, is that we don't have an Alice. (Really, isn't that the biggest challenge for all Moms?) But, we just don't and I don't think that will change any time soon! So we must soldier on!
And although we are causing our dogs utter confusion at suddenly being expected to respond to the name "Tiger", the human members of our house are settling into the idea.
So as a way to kick-off our Brady-ful summer and get everyone in the Brady spirit, we are having Porkchops and Applesauce for dinner-and you know what? That's swell!
So without further ado, we are living the summer like the Brady family. Not football quarterback and super model style, but late 60's, early 70's sitcom, The Brady Bunch-style! Yippeeeeeee!
I must confess that I am way more excited about this than anyone else in the "bunch"-although Baby Girl jumped on board quickly and started saying everything twice, once normally and the 2nd time with a lisp-a la' Cindy Brady!
The rest of the moppets expressed 5 emotional stages that would make Elizabeth Kubler-Ross proud:
denial- "There is absolutely no way I am doing this,"
confusion-"Okay, does this mean we are going to Hawaii?"
pride- "Oh my gosh, Mom, that is totally cheesey,"
bargaining- okay, well this is actually how I got everyone to reach acceptance!
acceptance-see above!
So how did I really get my fabulous family to agree to this experiment? Well, first I explained to them it would be outta sight to build our own dunk tank, enjoy sack races and square dancing, try to break the longest teeter-tottering record, build a house of cards, make our own pilgrim movie, go to King's Island amusement park in Cincinatti and much, much more. I also promised them that if everyone went along, I would get my hair cut Carol Brady-style at the end of the summer! That pretty much sealed the deal! (Although they are starting to realize that they will actually have to be seen with me!)
After about an hour of rolling this plan around in his head, youngest son came to me and said, "Oh, no! Are we going to have to eat meatloaf? I don't think I can do that." And Oldest Daughter kept trying to put SPAM® into the shopping cart at the grocery store! (I just can't go there!)
The biggest mental hitch in the giddy-up for everyone, is that we don't have an Alice. (Really, isn't that the biggest challenge for all Moms?) But, we just don't and I don't think that will change any time soon! So we must soldier on!
And although we are causing our dogs utter confusion at suddenly being expected to respond to the name "Tiger", the human members of our house are settling into the idea.
So as a way to kick-off our Brady-ful summer and get everyone in the Brady spirit, we are having Porkchops and Applesauce for dinner-and you know what? That's swell!
Monday, June 18, 2012
School's Out!
Yesterday was the moppets' last day of school! Yay! I love summer vacation-no schedule to follow, no homework, no bedtime battles-well, less bedtime battles! When middle son walked through the door after school, the first thing he said was, "What's the first event for the Summer Games?" I think I heard a choir of angels sing! I was so thrilled that last summer's fun was "sticky" enough to create memories, and enjoyable enough to warrant the desire to do it again this summer! It's especially good news since I've already been planning the summer fun that we will experience (endure) this summer! (And by "planning", I mean I've had an idea and am planning to figure out all the details very soon!)
I haven't told my family my big summer idea yet, and have decided to wait until after Oldest Daughter's high school graduation party (Sunday) to tell them! We have been swamped with the end of the school year festivities and in true Sammons' Family fashion, I am dealing with everything as it come-and not a minute before! But I am really excited and can't wait to get started! Be sure to stay tuned.....
I haven't told my family my big summer idea yet, and have decided to wait until after Oldest Daughter's high school graduation party (Sunday) to tell them! We have been swamped with the end of the school year festivities and in true Sammons' Family fashion, I am dealing with everything as it come-and not a minute before! But I am really excited and can't wait to get started! Be sure to stay tuned.....
Friday, May 18, 2012
Preschool Graduation Blues
Yesterday was Baby Girl's last day of preschool. I can't believe that she will be in kindergarten in the fall! She just missed the age cut-off to be in kindergarten this year, so she is one of the oldest in her class and is my personal oldest preschool graduate. In preparation for her inevitable melancholy, I tried to shore up my emotional resources and plan fun activities-activities that she can do on her own so I can continue, uninterrupted, to eat bon bons while being fanned with palm frawns!
Baby Girl is quite a precocious tot, and not in a fun-to-brag-about-at a cocktail party, "and it was so cute, yesterday she wrote a song about the periodic table of elements, you should hear the way she pronounces technetium" way, but in more of a if-I-hold-my-breath-can-I-fit-under-that-pew? "Mommy, this is the song that Kurt sang with Darren Criss on Glee, last year, on the Christmas episode-remember?" kind of way- and did I mention, that baby girl can really project her voice?-okay, so I am not proud-well only a little-but my point is, you never really know what to expect with Baby Girl. (But odds are good that it will include a spot-on Lady Gaga impression.)
I picked Baby Girl up from her VERY LAST DAY OF PRESCHOOL EVER and asked her teacher if there were many tears. No, no tears, she said. After baby girl was all buckled in her car seat I asked her if she was so sad about her last day of school. I was quite surprised when all she said was, "I will really miss the Gingerbread Cottage next year. Maybe I can pretend I am 4 and go back next year!" Giggle, giggle. "Can we have Chick-Fil-A for lunch?"
Really?!? I look at her via the rear view mirror-searching for signs of heart-ache. Nothing.
"Sure, that sounds good. You've had such a big day," pause, "I mean, the very last day you will EVER be in preschool. That's huge! Kinda sad, huh?"
"Yeah. Can I have a chicken salad sandwich and sweet tea? I'm really hungry."
"Sure babe. I'm sure that will help make you feel less sad."
"Ummm, okay. French fries too?"
"Of course! French fries are perfect for mending a broken-heart."
"What?"
"Never mind."
So, next month, Oldest Daughter graduates from high school...
Baby Girl is quite a precocious tot, and not in a fun-to-brag-about-at a cocktail party, "and it was so cute, yesterday she wrote a song about the periodic table of elements, you should hear the way she pronounces technetium" way, but in more of a if-I-hold-my-breath-can-I-fit-under-that-pew? "Mommy, this is the song that Kurt sang with Darren Criss on Glee, last year, on the Christmas episode-remember?" kind of way- and did I mention, that baby girl can really project her voice?-okay, so I am not proud-well only a little-but my point is, you never really know what to expect with Baby Girl. (But odds are good that it will include a spot-on Lady Gaga impression.)
I picked Baby Girl up from her VERY LAST DAY OF PRESCHOOL EVER and asked her teacher if there were many tears. No, no tears, she said. After baby girl was all buckled in her car seat I asked her if she was so sad about her last day of school. I was quite surprised when all she said was, "I will really miss the Gingerbread Cottage next year. Maybe I can pretend I am 4 and go back next year!" Giggle, giggle. "Can we have Chick-Fil-A for lunch?"
Really?!? I look at her via the rear view mirror-searching for signs of heart-ache. Nothing.
"Sure, that sounds good. You've had such a big day," pause, "I mean, the very last day you will EVER be in preschool. That's huge! Kinda sad, huh?"
"Yeah. Can I have a chicken salad sandwich and sweet tea? I'm really hungry."
"Sure babe. I'm sure that will help make you feel less sad."
"Ummm, okay. French fries too?"
"Of course! French fries are perfect for mending a broken-heart."
"What?"
"Never mind."
So, next month, Oldest Daughter graduates from high school...
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Amazing Grace!
Today, I am celebrating my oldest daughter. There is no specific reason why I’m doing this today, except that I just find her absolutely fabulous! I often look at her with complete awe and amazement-she makes me want to be a better person! There are so many special things about my oldest daughter, she nurturing, funny, charming, smart, kind-hearted and often acts more like a 40 year-old girlfriend than like my 18 year-old daughter. The following text exchange from a couple of weeks ago is the perfect illustration:
Oldest Daughter: Sorry about being grumpy this morning.
Me: That’s okay, thank you. Andrew is welcomed to come to dinner tonight, I don’t know what we’re having though. Maybe Cap’n Crunch Chicken Nuggets. (Actually, I am a terrible texter-so it really said “I don’t know what we are having. Maybecpancrunch chickennuggrts“)
OD: If you have time to make it, that sounds delicious. I don’t want you to be stressed out though. I think we are all still recovering from this weekend.
Me: Are you a 40 year old trapped in an 18 year old’s body? (real text-Ar you a 40 year old tra00ed in 18 year oldks boody?)
OD: Probably! Ha ha!
*I feel pretty confident that the ‘Ha ha” was for the comment, not for the bad texting skills!
And not long ago she said, “You’re probably tired of doing all the Mom stuff today, why don’t you go relax and I will take care of dinner.”
Truly, she’s a remarkable girl. I feel very blessed to have her for my daughter. Recently, oldest daughter was so moved by the film A Walk to Beautiful that she decided to try to raise $10,000 to help women in developing countries get corrective surgery for childbirth injuries (obstetric fistula). A Walk to Beautiful is an award winning documentary that tells the story of 5 Ethiopian women who suffer from obstetric fistula and their harrowing ordeal. These women were ostracized by their husband, family and community. They each decided to travel to the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital in order to seek treatment. If you have an opportunity, I would highly recommend watching it, it is life-changing!
I love that my sweet daughter has a heart for those around her and that she cares so much for the global community. I also love that she sets big goals. It really fills my heart!
She will be going to college next fall and we will all miss her terribly, but it will be so exciting to watch all amazing things she will do!
If you would like to help oldest daughter reach her goal and help women across the globe, please go to http://www.gofundme.com/etp2g
Oldest Daughter: Sorry about being grumpy this morning.
Me: That’s okay, thank you. Andrew is welcomed to come to dinner tonight, I don’t know what we’re having though. Maybe Cap’n Crunch Chicken Nuggets. (Actually, I am a terrible texter-so it really said “I don’t know what we are having. Maybecpancrunch chickennuggrts“)
OD: If you have time to make it, that sounds delicious. I don’t want you to be stressed out though. I think we are all still recovering from this weekend.
Me: Are you a 40 year old trapped in an 18 year old’s body? (real text-Ar you a 40 year old tra00ed in 18 year oldks boody?)
OD: Probably! Ha ha!
*I feel pretty confident that the ‘Ha ha” was for the comment, not for the bad texting skills!
And not long ago she said, “You’re probably tired of doing all the Mom stuff today, why don’t you go relax and I will take care of dinner.”
Truly, she’s a remarkable girl. I feel very blessed to have her for my daughter. Recently, oldest daughter was so moved by the film A Walk to Beautiful that she decided to try to raise $10,000 to help women in developing countries get corrective surgery for childbirth injuries (obstetric fistula). A Walk to Beautiful is an award winning documentary that tells the story of 5 Ethiopian women who suffer from obstetric fistula and their harrowing ordeal. These women were ostracized by their husband, family and community. They each decided to travel to the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital in order to seek treatment. If you have an opportunity, I would highly recommend watching it, it is life-changing!
I love that my sweet daughter has a heart for those around her and that she cares so much for the global community. I also love that she sets big goals. It really fills my heart!
She will be going to college next fall and we will all miss her terribly, but it will be so exciting to watch all amazing things she will do!
If you would like to help oldest daughter reach her goal and help women across the globe, please go to http://www.gofundme.com/etp2g
Friday, March 9, 2012
Discombobulation
I can't believe it has been over a month since I posted. Suddenly, time seems to be playing tricks on me. Things that happened a year ago, seem like just a few months ago, the details of the situation clear and fresh, yet I can't recall what I had for dinner last night-oh yeah, I remember now, I forgot to have dinner last night!
Lately, my world seems off-kilter, nothing specific has happened and I can't pinpoint what is off, but it seems like my entire world has been moved 1/2 inch to the left. It is absolutely discombobulating!
Several years ago (or was it several months ago?) there was a "Mad About You" episode where Jamie Buchman (Helen Hunt) and her sister Lisa Stemple (Anne Ramsay) accidentally switched handbags. The always organized Jamie was suddenly disheveled, out of sorts, an all-around mess, while perpetually disorganized Lisa suddenly had it all together. I feel like Jamie; as if someone switched handbags with me.
It is a slippery slope when things begin to veer off course. I am usually pretty laid-back and try to roll with things as much as I can, but I'm looking around my house, that is filled with souvenir items for a show youngest son is in right now (The Music Man) and notice the clean clothes that need put away, the clean dishes in the dishwasher, and the 465 pairs of shoes that need returned to various closets throughout the house. And I must admit, it feels totally overwhelming! Too overwhelming to even deal with.
This weekend is the final weekend of the show, after which the fabulous items and all their fixin's will be gone and I will be able to reclaim my home. I hope that helps and inspires me to deal with all the other stuff. I also hope that once I get everything back to "normal" my world will move back 1/2 inch to the right and someone will return my handbag!
Lately, my world seems off-kilter, nothing specific has happened and I can't pinpoint what is off, but it seems like my entire world has been moved 1/2 inch to the left. It is absolutely discombobulating!
Several years ago (or was it several months ago?) there was a "Mad About You" episode where Jamie Buchman (Helen Hunt) and her sister Lisa Stemple (Anne Ramsay) accidentally switched handbags. The always organized Jamie was suddenly disheveled, out of sorts, an all-around mess, while perpetually disorganized Lisa suddenly had it all together. I feel like Jamie; as if someone switched handbags with me.
It is a slippery slope when things begin to veer off course. I am usually pretty laid-back and try to roll with things as much as I can, but I'm looking around my house, that is filled with souvenir items for a show youngest son is in right now (The Music Man) and notice the clean clothes that need put away, the clean dishes in the dishwasher, and the 465 pairs of shoes that need returned to various closets throughout the house. And I must admit, it feels totally overwhelming! Too overwhelming to even deal with.
This weekend is the final weekend of the show, after which the fabulous items and all their fixin's will be gone and I will be able to reclaim my home. I hope that helps and inspires me to deal with all the other stuff. I also hope that once I get everything back to "normal" my world will move back 1/2 inch to the right and someone will return my handbag!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Oh, Those Clever Birds!
Two days ago, baby girl told me "I am very busy today, Mama, so I don't have time to________" insert undesirable task here. Phew, she had quite a day-meetings, phone calls, deadlines! Anyway, I realize she was trying to avoid doing things that she did not want to do, but the sound of my own words coming back to me left me a little rattled. Then, yesterday morning, rushing through the grocery store parking lot before school, I had the following conversation with baby girl.
Baby Girl: "Look in the trees, Mama."
Me: "uh-huh." (Okay, I admit, I didn't look.)
Baby Girl: "Mama, birds eat berries from trees, right?"
Me: "Yes, darlin', now hurry up, we're going to be late."
Baby Girl: "Where do they get their drinks from?"
Me: "Ummm, rain water, I guess." I said as I was navigating oblivious drivers and wayward shopping carts.
Baby Girl: "Oh. That's very clever of them."
I mentally applauded her use of the word clever and her appreciation for ornithological survival skills. But after I rushed in and out of the store, dropped baby girl off at school and was sitting in the quiet of my car, it occurred to me, we need to slow down. It's not that life is passing us by, but we are passing life by. Not only do I need to stop and smell the roses, but, I need to stop so baby girl can smell the roses. I need to pause so she can splash in puddles, watch the clouds, and listen to the birds! I know what roses smell like, but if I'm not careful, baby girl never will.
Baby Girl: "Look in the trees, Mama."
Me: "uh-huh." (Okay, I admit, I didn't look.)
Baby Girl: "Mama, birds eat berries from trees, right?"
Me: "Yes, darlin', now hurry up, we're going to be late."
Baby Girl: "Where do they get their drinks from?"
Me: "Ummm, rain water, I guess." I said as I was navigating oblivious drivers and wayward shopping carts.
Baby Girl: "Oh. That's very clever of them."
I mentally applauded her use of the word clever and her appreciation for ornithological survival skills. But after I rushed in and out of the store, dropped baby girl off at school and was sitting in the quiet of my car, it occurred to me, we need to slow down. It's not that life is passing us by, but we are passing life by. Not only do I need to stop and smell the roses, but, I need to stop so baby girl can smell the roses. I need to pause so she can splash in puddles, watch the clouds, and listen to the birds! I know what roses smell like, but if I'm not careful, baby girl never will.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
choice
My heart has been heavy over the past several days. The "niece" of a friend of mine passed away after a valiant life. I started to say, after a valiant fight against cancer, but realized that, although I didn't know her, I'm sure she lived her whole life in a boldly courageous way. Her name is Jessie Rees. She was truly amazing and as I followed her battle on facebook, I was so touched by her strength and joy. She and her parents started an organization (check out her story and foundation at http://www.thenegufoundation.org/) to spread hope, joy and love to other children fighting cancer. Amazing!
I am constantly in awe of people who are faced with horrendous challenges, terrible loss, unimaginable heartache, but continue to function. Many people in these situations, not only function, but contribute enormously to society. You often hear people say, what choice do they have? But, they do have a choice. There are so many people, in similar circumstances, who shut down, withdraw, spread hate.
Actually, we all have a choice. Bob Greene, (Oprah's fitness guru) once said that everything you do is either good for your body or bad for your body-there is no neutral. (Really? Sitting and eating french fries isn't neutral, Bob? I beg to differ.) And while my family's favorite game is "Argue Against Anything Anyone Ever Said, Especially Oprah Fitness Guru Bob Greene"-AAAAESEOFGBG for short, I embrace Bob's philosophy and take it one step further (which could explain my family's desire to disprove it). I think that it applies to living life. Everything we do is either good for ourselves, our families, our society or it is not. It seems extreme-but I feel that doing nothing isn't neutral- it's a missed opportunity to make things better.
I am constantly in awe of people who are faced with horrendous challenges, terrible loss, unimaginable heartache, but continue to function. Many people in these situations, not only function, but contribute enormously to society. You often hear people say, what choice do they have? But, they do have a choice. There are so many people, in similar circumstances, who shut down, withdraw, spread hate.
Actually, we all have a choice. Bob Greene, (Oprah's fitness guru) once said that everything you do is either good for your body or bad for your body-there is no neutral. (Really? Sitting and eating french fries isn't neutral, Bob? I beg to differ.) And while my family's favorite game is "Argue Against Anything Anyone Ever Said, Especially Oprah Fitness Guru Bob Greene"-AAAAESEOFGBG for short, I embrace Bob's philosophy and take it one step further (which could explain my family's desire to disprove it). I think that it applies to living life. Everything we do is either good for ourselves, our families, our society or it is not. It seems extreme-but I feel that doing nothing isn't neutral- it's a missed opportunity to make things better.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Ugh!
Keeping a blog is like keeping a diary. There are people out there who write, faithfully, every day. I am not those people. I absolutely love writing, if I had time I would write for hours every day. Write and create art and eat only healthy foods. But who has time?!? I've read about people who spend hours writing every day. Okay, so these people are Writers- making a living writing and probably don't have 6 children-or at least have a really good nanny. They are clearly way more a) organized b) motivated c) paid, than I am! But I'm okay with that. As I said, I love to write and do it, whenever I can carve out the time, for personal entertainment and the occasional entertainment of others.
When I do write, I feel a sense of accomplishment, and usually am tickled, renewed, or unburdened, by my musings. But I must admit, lately, the only feeling I am experiencing after I write is complete and total irritation! Every time I try to post an entry on my blog it shows up BLANK! How annoying is that?!? Oh, the title is there, but there is no body, no content, no indication of the clever observations I have made. So, ironically enough, I am venting, through my blog, that may or may not post more than the title... UGH! Is this another futile attempt? Perhaps, but for the moment, I feel completely tickled, renewed and unburdened!
When I do write, I feel a sense of accomplishment, and usually am tickled, renewed, or unburdened, by my musings. But I must admit, lately, the only feeling I am experiencing after I write is complete and total irritation! Every time I try to post an entry on my blog it shows up BLANK! How annoying is that?!? Oh, the title is there, but there is no body, no content, no indication of the clever observations I have made. So, ironically enough, I am venting, through my blog, that may or may not post more than the title... UGH! Is this another futile attempt? Perhaps, but for the moment, I feel completely tickled, renewed and unburdened!
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