9/11, 12 years later

Dear Mamie,

I'm missing you a lot lately.  Sometimes, more often than not, it just feels like you are gone.  Disappeared forever.  I miss being able to call you.  I miss thinking of you and Kenny at Vernon St, even though it's been almost 4 years since you were both there.

Yesterday was 9/11.  Normally 9/11 makes me think of my time in NYC.  Yesterday I thought of you and Kenny.  On the morning of 9/11/2001 I was supposed to have been at my internship on the Lower East Side, but the girl who was starting with me needed an extra week due to some unforeseen circumstances so instead of starting on 9/10/2001 I started my internship on 9/17/2001.  Less than a week after the terrorist attacks.  But I digress, on 9/11/2001 I was with you.

I had slept in the bed I always had.  The twin bed under the small window in D's old room.  It was a beautiful time of year there.  Windows open, chilly at night and first thing in the morning, comfortable during the day.

We sat and watched the coverage on and off all day.  You either in the big green chair (now residing in my living room), while doing the crossword, Kenny in his rocking chair and me on the couch. We had the windows open and there was a nice breeze in the living room.  I think we went to Atkins, though I don't remember exactly if it was that day, but I think it was.  More than anything it was just a normal nice day for us.  Just being together.  Puttering around the house.  Watching the toob.  A day that if it hadn't been for the 9/11, I probably wouldn't have remembered little things.

I woke up thinking about that morning yesterday, and how much I loved you and how much I loved Vernon St, how much we all loved Vernon St.

It's been 4 months now.  I still think of you every day.  I smile writing that, because you always told me not to sit and mope around, and I'm not, but little things remind me of you each day.  The cardinals in my back yard that refuse to come to my GD bird feeder (as Kenny would have said), the strawberry Rubarb cake at a local baked goods store.  I think of you when I iron, because we used to talk while I ironed.  lol, you could never believe the amount of laundry I did, and really, neither can I.

G and K love to hear about you.  G remembers going to your house.  K just likes to hear about how she is named for you and Kenny, and that so many things in our house used to be yours.  G likes to hear stories about her visits with you, while K wants exact details about you, your house, and your life.

I know with all my being and because of my faith, that you are in Heaven, probably living it up with Kenny, Jeff, your Mother and Father, but goodness sometimes I just feel like there is just an empty space where you used to be.  As you used to say, "I'm feeling a bit lonesome, a bit out of touch."

I've been reading some of your journals.  I love them.  They're you.  They're positive.  There's not one negative word in them.  They include daily tibits of your life, which I love.  Glimpses into my life at the time you were writing them, and quick glimpses into the lives of everyone in our family.  All upbeat.  No matter what was going on at the time, you kept your writing kind.  Full of emotion, but always tender hearted.

Bong, Bong, Bong...I Love You.

You understood that til the end.  No matter how confused you were during our phone conversations.  We always ended with our hearts and minds in sync.

Dear Mean Neighbors

Dear Mean Neighbors,

I’m sitting in our back yard right now, feeling calm, listening to the sounds of my children playing and our nice neighbors talking and playing music.  It’s a peaceful Sunday afternoon.  You haven’t taken that away from us.  Daddy P had a nice long chat with your neighbors, and they love the work we are doing on the yard, and complimented us on our “pretty” dogs. 

An hour ago, a week ago, two weeks ago, I’ve had moments of anger, rage and hatred for you.  For opening my own eyes to the cruelty of the world, for giving my daughter nightmares, but I’ve also had moments like right now, which I am going to aim for thus forward. 

The word’s of the Lord’s Prayer keep going through my mind, “and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”.  I forgive you.  I want to live in peace now, even if you don’t.  I don’t want to live obsessed with looking out my window, worrying about what you are going to do next.

I’m not going to give you the power to upset my day anymore.  I’m going to smile and wave at you, and hope you have a nice day, and really mean it.  You can choose to be mean and nasty and vile.  I’m going to choose to be nice and kind and loving.

Dear World

Dear World,

Today I sent out two huge pieces of my heart, walking, talking, living, breathing pieces of me.  My babies that grew within me.  You don’t see them as I do, won’t take care of them as I do, to you they must seem like normal children, sometimes whiny, annoying, with sticky hands and noses filled with boogies and sometimes even wet pants or scrapped knees, but to me they are the precious bundles of joy that I brought home 4 & 5 years ago.  My babies.  It makes it easier knowing that I've sent them to a place filled with love, a place I can visit any time I like, where the teachers, other parents and most of the school staff have known them since birth.  A place where they've grown close to friends, and where they will only be separated by one wall, but it’s still hard.

I can’t count the times someone has said to me, “Don’t blink, they’ll be grown up”, and it is so very true.  Time has never passed so quickly since G was born.  Just the other day I was telling something that these last 5 years of my life have been the best ever, what I have wanted from the time I was a little girl, and yet the time is fleeting.  Soon Bro will be in school, and my years being a “SAHM” will be over.  I dread that time.  Sure there are days that I long for quiet or a break, time not to have to be on high alert about everything, but now, as I sit here in a quiet house, with no screams, giggles, cries or fights to settle I feel alone (even as Bro sits here nursing and sleeping in my lap), there will be no art projects making a sticky, glittery mess on my kitchen table, no massive tea parties (using real water of course), just me and Bro, to do and go as we please.  And while that may be easier than having all 3, I will be running to the store during daytime hours and not getting a massive headache, I will be folding laundry with no one jumping in it, I already miss my sweet G and my sweet K.

I’m off to fold my laundry, cry my tears and snuggle my sweet boy.

Be kind to my girls World.  They’re still in a safe circle of love and warmth and protection at their sweet school, but it’s not the same as Mommy’s care.

It's been...

Dear Mamie,

Five years ago we were getting ready to bring a very small G up to meet you and Kenny.  We had a great 4^th of July together, and celebrated Kenny’s birthday together.

3 years ago we dropped everything and drove up to spend time with you and Kenny.  We had a great Memorial Day with you, took a picture of you, Kenny and baby K together, and returned home on June 6. 

Less than a week later we returned to attend Kenny’s wake and funeral.

4 Monday’s ago we were at Disney World. 

Then we were home for a day.

3 Monday’s ago Mom, Bro  and I were flying up to you, praying we would make it in time to see you.

On Tuesday night, after you had slept all day, I looked up and you were staring at Bro, a smile on your face.  You hadn’t been awake all day, and we didn’t know if you’d be awake again.  It was a good few hours with you.  I’m glad you knew we were there.  I’m glad you got to see Bro play.

On Thursday afternoon I was holding Bro at the foot of your bed and he kept waving to the ceiling, "Hi Puppa, Hi!" excitedly.  I didn't know it at the time, but now I think Kenny was there, waiting to greet you.

2 Monday’s ago we celebrated your life and buried you and that night Mom, Bro and I were back home.

Two and a half weeks have passed since you died.  I’m not going to lie.  The first days after you died were a blur.  We were going non stop. 

Then I got home.

I had to be a Mom…make breakfast (and lunches, and dinner),  change diapers, kiss hurts away, wash, fold and repeat the laundry cycle, read stories, etc. 

I know you know this, but Mommy’s don’t cry, they are strong and brave and able to fix things with a kiss.  Mommy’s are the ones who take care of everyone else.  As G and K have recently said, “Mommy is the boss of Daddy P and Grampy, and Grammy is the boss of Mommy—only Grammy can tell you what to do Mommy!!!”

What I wanted to do was sit and cry, and grieve for you.  What I wanted was a few more minutes with you at Vernon St.  And while I think I’ll want that forever, now what I want is to talk to you one more time. 

The quiet times in the mornings are the hardest for me.  They were when I used to call you.  Almost every morning.  Even if I didn’t talk to you I’d talk to your nurse.  It’s hard to have the quiet time and not be able to call you.

I’m also brought to tears when someone tells me they are sorry for my loss.  Something about hearing that makes it more real.  I read through a lot of sympathy cards last night, all expressing fond memories of you, and making your departure more real to me.

I miss you in a lot of little ways and know I will for a long time to come.

I had you in my life for almost 35 years.  I'm so lucky to have had you that long.

Alpha and Omega, as you always used to say.

Mamie

Dear Mamie,

A little over week ago I sat in your room, holding your hand, combing your hair, putting on your lipstick and making sure you looked “sharp”, as there were a parade of visitors coming to say Good Bye to you.

I slept in your bed, snuggled up close to you, as I promised I would, sang “On Eagle’s Wings” and “Be Not Afraid” to you. 

 Helped the CNA’s wash you and care for your mouth.

One week ago today, I calmed you when you woke, panic stricken and full of anxiety. 

I touched your arm as you took your last breaths.

I washed your hands, face and mouth after you died.

I combed your hair after you died.

I sat and held your hand, still warm, until the man from the funeral parlor came, and then I helped move your body to the stretcher, gave you one last kiss while your face was soft and not too cold, covered your body with blankets and pushed your body out to the hearse.

I wrote out a Eulogy for you, some while we were on the plane.

Mamie,

As I sit here on the plane, racing up to see you, to give you one last hug so many memories are flooding my mind.

I remember standing at your old sink, “helping” you wash dishes, going to the beach, Look Park, Bart’s, and most of all just being together at Vernon St. 

The time you were in the kitchen, looked up and saw Drew above you, kneeling on all fours on the sky light, waving in at you!

More recent memories include the times you met each of my children, especially K, and the time we were leaving to head back home and G looked back at you expectantly, saying, “Come on Mamie”.

In past weeks our conversations had been harder, with more silence on your end, and during one call when I asked you if you were there, you had a moment of clarity, saying “phone conversations were hard now, but we were both trying so desperately to stay in touch.  

Another time, just a few weeks ago, during a period of more silence, I jokingly asked you if you thought I should have another baby.  You let out a guttural “NO”, so I knew you were still there (inside and out).

Mamie, to even try to list out the many things I loved about you would seem insignificant.
Thank you for your love, the gift of your faith, for teaching me that sometimes it is ok to break the rules, and for being the  very best Grandmother.

In December 2004, Annie hosted a family reunion, and during it each of your Grandchildren wrote a snippet to you.  I will close with each inscription: (Grammatical Errors Included)

Sheila:  Dear Mamie, You are so important to us!  I love you!  (heart) Sheila

Annie:  Dear Grandma, You are the best grandma evea!  (drawn out picture of eye, heart, u) Annie Louise

Tom:  Dear Mamie I love you. Tom

Nate:  Thanks for all the good times Nate

Kenneth W. Laughton

Dear Mary, You’re one of the best impacts that I’ve had on my life.  Thank you for everything Love, Andrew.

Bong, Bong, Bong, I Love You!

Weaned

Dear K,

Today marks the end of your 3rd day not nursing.

 I haven't heard, "Nursey me Mommy, nursey me" since sometime on Sunday.  You haven't nursed since sometime Sunday.

 This is the longest you've ever been  around me and not asked to nurse.  I'm guessing it means you have weaned yourself.  It's what I wanted, what G did, and what I hope Bro will do.  I don't remember our last nursing session, just that it was sometime Sunday, and I had no thoughts that you were going to wean anytime soon.

I'm glad it's happend the way I wanted, but I'm also sad, because it is such a milestone for us, for you.

I wanted you to self wean.  People, close family members included felt it was long past time for you to wean, but I knew you would wean when you were ready. Pushing you to do something that you are not ready for has never worked for you and I knew, we knew, what you needed and what was best, you and me.    Nursing helped you calm down, to settle yourself, to center yourself for as long as you nursed.  It helped you in a way that nothing else could.  I'm happy to have nursed you for these 3 years and 9 1/2 months.  You never had "nursey" all to yourself, when you were born G was still nursing, and now Bro is nursing.  You've always shared nursey well.

K, my sweet, spirited, strong willed, loving girl, I am so blessed to be your Mommy.  I am so happy I nursed you until you decided you were done.

"5"

Dear G,

One month ago you turned five. 

5

Five seems so old.

I remember when you were a baby, and I would see Mother's calling their 5 year old their baby.  I would smirk to myself and think to myself, that's no baby lady.  

But.

Now I understand.  

They aren't just seeing that knobby kneed, tantrum throwing, sweet as can be child, who  asks a million questions about everything and always wants Mommy to spell something or explain something or carry them upstairs.  

They We are seeing the teeny tiny baby they we took home from the hospital.  The baby we cried with as she got hurt for the first time, who we watched take her first steps, listened to her first words, who cried on the first day of preschool.  The baby inside of the little person who still needs Mommy to make things better. Mommy to hold them and help them and love them.

I still call you my baby, and you frequently take objection to this.  "I'm not a baby Mommy!"

But, as I tell you, sweet girl,

You will always be my sweet, first, baby girl.  Forever and ever.

I can’t trick myself into thinking you are still a toddler, and it’s even tough to pass you off as preschooler.  It’s hard to believe you've been with us for half of a decade, and in 15 more years you’ll be 20.

When I think about how quickly the time has passed since you've been born I’m in shock.  Looking back it seems like you were just born, yet at the same time I can’t remember what life was like without you.  Until you were born I never found a “job” that I loved.  When you were born I quit my job and became a stay at home Mom to you, and then to K and then to Bro, and I found my place in the world.  It may be hard for some to understand, but becoming a Mother and staying home with my children is what I dreamed of doing from childhood.  I love my life raising you, K & Bro.  Though you love school, and it is good for you, I hate sending you off each day, and look forward to you coming home and to your days off.  You add laughter and love to every day.  You listen to everything that is said around you.  You understand so many things, sometimes things that you shouldn’t ;)

You were born a sweet and sensitive little soul and still are.  You can pick up on anyone’s mood without them speaking a word.  In some ways this is good, you are so empathetic, so kind, caring and loving.  But what a burden it puts on you when someone is stressed, angry, frustrated or mad.  Especially if that someone is me!  I am striving to teach you that you are not responsible if someone isn't happy, and in the same sense that it isn’t your responsibility to make someone feel happy.

Many people, including Daddy, Grampy, & Grammy, think you are a little me.  And many times the words and phrases that you speak are exactly what I would have said, with the same intonation.  Just the other day when Bro had scraped up his toes (actually I scraped up his sweet little toes while pushing him in his car) you said, “Awe, come here sweet baby, let G help you”.  It is something I have said to you and to Bro and K and even Cody many times.  This is good and bad, and I’m trying to watch how I speak.  I try to teach you and your siblings to use kind and loving words, to obey and be respectful, and in doing so am also improving myself.

A snapshot of you at 5:

Weight:  39lbs

Height:

• You love the color pink.  You only want to wear pink things, head to toe.
• You love princesses and baby dolls.  All of your dolls are named “Sally”.  You have an 18inch doll named Sally and have several matching outfits. 
• You love make up, and on the rare occasion I need or want to wear makeup, I can find it squirreled away in either your room, bathroom or princess vanity.
• You love to be outside, barefoot, running, playing, climbing, bike riding, swinging, etc.  We have even started eating a lot of our meals outside!
• You write well, can spell several words, and are starting to read, much to the delight of Grammy ;)
• You are a collector of things.  Every so often I have to clean out your closet, back packs, car seat, etc.  You like to save things and most often know where everything you want is.
• You make your own things to eat.  “Chocolate milk” ie Carnation Instant Breakfast, Mac n Cheese, you make these things completely on your own.  You also love to help me cook, and especially love to help Grammy & Grampy cook.
• You pick fresh flowers for me every day.
• You are taking ballet and shine in it.  You concentrate so hard, and come out of your shell during each class.
• Your best friend, other than K, is Natalia. 
• You are a little Mommy, always helping me around the house, “mothering” K, Bro, Cody, and any other babies we might have visiting for the day.
• You can throw an impressive tantrum ;) Running to your room, slamming the door, all while screaming, “I’m never never NEVER, never, never, never, never, never, never NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER coming out again”, but always emerge from your room happily, be it on your own, or after a quiet talk with Mommy or Daddy.

I love you my sweet G.  As we say each night, "I love you more than you love the color pink, more than you love Disney World, more than I love Diet Coke, more than we love the beach, more than we love Disney World.  Forever and ever and ever.  To the moon and the stars and Jupiter and mars.  I love you most of all.  More than anyone else can or will ever love you.  Because you grew under my heart."

Stolen Gift

We are pretty much moved into our new home, and with very few misplaced items, most of which are hiding in the 20+ boxes we have left in our cellar.

However, while we were moving, we had 1 item stolen.

An expensive item. 

That didn't belong to us.

We don't know how it happened.  It was a baby item.  Sitting on the carport of our old home with many other baby and nonbaby items--and not a single other item was taken.

I had to spend $211 to replace it.

I'm not going to lie.  My mind went through the things I could have spent that money on.  A plane ticket to see Mamie, Christmas gifts, bills, groceries, etc, the list really goes on and on.

But I've decided to view it as a gift, not so much to the people that I replaced the item, but to the person(s) who stole from us.  Apparently they had a need so great that they turned to desprate measures.  They saw something we had out, took it, and are, hopefully, using it to protect their child.

Stream of Randomness

I "deactivated" from facebook last week. 

This morning I was thinking about what my facebook status would be, something along the lines of 30 Days of Thankfulness, Day 15, and I was thankful for snuggles with my kids, specifically for snuggle time with Bro.  We spent the morning snuggled up in an oversized chair, wrapped in blankets and reading books.  After a week of sickness, visits to the ped, the ER, a stomach virus, and a PICU stay, things that left me questioning what I had done to anger the gods, I have been able to really be thankful for all the blessings in my life.

That is the reason I "deactivated".  So much of my life was spent thinking of the next good facebook status I could put up.  I'd rather spend that time with my family, or writing on this blog, documenting our life so I can have something to look back on years from now, when the kids are teenagers and I am no longer a SAHM. 

As I look around our new home, our first ever home to own, I am struck by items I have grown up with.  Pieces from my Gram's home, pieces from Mamie & Puppa's home.  Pieces from my parent's homes.  Thi shouse feels more like home than anywhere I have ever lived.  Maybe because it is our very own home, but it some ways I think it is more than that.  The second we walked into this house, over 6 months ago, Daddy P and I loved it.  We looked at many homes after it, but always came back to this one.  It is us, it exudes us.  The people we bought it from are wonderful too.

I talked with Mamie this morning, after days of trying to reach her by cell and by the phone in her room, I finally got through.  She's fading.  Still there, still Mamie, but dementia and alshezimer's is slowly penetrating.  I wish I could close my eyes and be there with her.  I want to see her before she doesn't know me.  She has moments on the phone where she gets confused about who I am, but I just go with it.  I know she knows I'm a person who loves her, and that is what really matters.  I keep searching for  a decently priced plane fair, so I can get up there, but they are few and far between, and will be even more difficult to come by during the next month.  It's hard, I want to see her now, and I want to also be there with her as she dies.  She has a fear of dying alone, and I want to be there for her, with her.  Financially I can't be there multiple times.  The question that I've strugged with in the past hits  again, is it better to be there while she's alive and consious, or wait and go be with her at the end?  *sigh*  the cycle of life.

Bro was in the PICU last week.  A short stay, but a stay nonetheless.   Anytime I watch him struggle to breath and watch as the nurses, dr's and respiratory therapists work with him (thankfully he's never had to be intubated),  I am pushed to a place of direct pleading with God.  "Please God let him be ok", is usually my prayer, and once he is better (I can always tell this when the room is cleared back out) my mind goes to the parents of children who aren't going to be ok, parents who have children that are seriously ill and parents who have no resources to take care of their children.  Even in the midst of a storm, we are blessed.   One thing I've learned through bro's trips to the ER and the hospital is that, though it may not seem it at the time, it is better to have to wait.  When you are pushed through, when Dr's, nurses and other's are surrounding you there is more to fear.  Waiting means they aren't so worried.

 Bro is sleeping now, which means I should get back to the pile of boxes awaiting me in the cellar.  The house is put together for the most part, but there are many small things missing, hiding amid the chaos in the basement.

6 Years!!!

Dear Mr. Monk,

Today, (well Sunday, 2 days ago), marks 6 years of wedded bliss for us.  Many people in our society don’t use the word bliss to describe marriage, and while every moment may not be blissful, our life together certainly is.  This is a beyond hectic time in our lives right now, and I usually try to write you a meaningful letter of sorts on our anniversary.  With our upcoming move, Grammy out of town and Grampy working at church, you sick, me sick, K sick, laundry, packing, making dinners, making lunches, trips to Wal-Mart, trips to Kroger, trips to various stores to look for items for our new home, sleep(less) nights, work trips, trips to Atlanta, I’ve been exhausted.  So have you.  So this letter is a bit different.  Our marriage by the numbers:

15 Months Dating

7 months of engagement

6 years of Marriage

111 weeks of pregnancy, 3 kids

4 ½ years of breastfeeding (and still going)

7 Vehicles:

Your Blazer, Your little blue truck

My Camry

Our RAV 4, Our Town & Country

The Saturn

The Mazda

4 home rentals

1 Dream, FOREVER, Home!!!

100’s of great dinners…100’s of not so great dinners

1000’s of disagreements & 1000’s of the same fight

3 time’s that we have held a precious newborn baby and thought we could never love anything more.

3 deaths of Grandparent’s.

1,000,000’s of tears (mostly mine)

ZERO:  The number of times I’ve ever wanted to give up.

1,000,000,000:  The amount of kisses given and received.

50:  The amount of anniversaries I dream of celebrating with you!

Mr. Monk, Daddy P, I love you with every ounce of my soul.  I love that you change diapers, and clean poop off of carpet.  I love that you bring me home chocolate, Diet Coke and a gossip magazine when I’ve had a bad day.  I love how you play with our children, and that you love to snuggle with them at night.  I love that you don’t’ scowl when you come home and see piles of laundry, toys and dishes, and that you don’t ask me what I’ve done all day on those days!

Thank you, for being you, and for loving me just the way I am.

In case you don’t know it, or need a reminder, you are The Very Best Daddy (and Husband) of all.

 

2 Years

Dear Kenny,

I'm missing you right now.  I miss you everyday, but the selling of the house, seeing your furniture in my own house, and Mom's house, and Drew's house, and knowing I can't go back to Vernon St the way it was again, is like opening up a wound.  In some ways I want to go back in time.  Back to the old days.  When you were sitting in the rocking chair watching the news.  When you brought Mary up her morning cup of tea and toast, even back to our last trip with you and Mary living in the house, when I brought you tea and toast.  I know we can't go back, only forward, and if we went back I wouldn't have my sweet boy, whom I can't imagine life without., but I also want you here.  I want to take the kids and let them enjoy Bart's Ice-Cream and then go to Sweeties and buy them chocolate.  I want to take a picnic lunch to your bench at Look Park, and have you and Mamie sit there with us. 

It's been 2 years now.  2 years since I called your house, while I was outside pushing the girls on the swings, and Mamie told me you had fallen again, and were at the hospital.  I still feel a twinge out at the swing set sometimes, and think of that phone call.  2 years since Daddy P & I decided to pack our bags and drive up to see you, to bring your namesake to meet you.   K wasn't even 1.  They didn't want her in your hospital room, and told me if I brought her in, that you couldn't touch her.  I told them that wasn't going to happen.  There are some decisions that are made, ones you make in a split second, or even after months of planning, that you regret.  Our decision to pack and leave and go to you is one I will never regret, and in fact tell people it was one of the best decisions I ever made.  I loved being with you those days.  We delayed our return, and then delayed it again, just to have a little more time with you and with Mamie. 

I'd love a little more time now too.  We were more than blessed with a wonderful relationship and amazing times together, and for those years, really a lifetime of memories, I'm eternally thankful, greatful, etc..., but tonight I miss you.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

My Grandparent's house sold after being on the market for 3 days.  I never even wanted it to go on the market, and was filled with angst about it, so perhaps it was a blessing to go so quick.

I always said that I wanted to make one last trip to the house before it sold, and in a way I did.  Not the way I planned, but apparently God is a better planner than I, because in all honesty if I had known my last trip was my "last" trip I might not have left would have had a really hard time leaving.

I spent many, many, many days and night's at my Grandparent's house.  I remember the old back porch, kitchen and downstairs bedroom.  Even as a child I was sentimental.  I didn't want their house to change and campaigned against the updated look.  I knew it inside and out.  I knew right where ole Dibber the dog was buried, even though the exact spot is now under lots and lots of foliage.  When I was a little girl I knew where the best blackberries were, knew the best path down through the woods, over the creek and to the football field, figured out early on how to climb on the playhouse roof and how to peek through the fence at the pool next door.

I remember "helping" Mamie & Puppa in the garden.  The long stalks of rhubarb and the scent of the tomato plants. I remember Easter Egg hunts, and our visit the summer of Puppa's next to last birthday, though none of us knew it was his next to last at the time.  I remember the pictures of Puppa's football teams lining the staircase, and the first time I saw G, and then G & K climbing up and down those stairs.  My brother and I spent many nights fighting sleep in my Uncle's old bedroom, and broke a window at one point, by throwing something that shouldn't have been thrown.  I'm sure Mamie & Puppa were more than a little aggravated by that, and the time we broke a lamp by the stairs, and the time I sent Uncle D out onto the sunlight in the kitchen to "clean" it........and the list could go on and on.  If they were (and as an adult I can't imagine them not) aggravated by the endless list, we never knew it.  We were always welcomed back with open arms.  It was our home, and we knew it.  Over the bed in the room Uncle D and I shared when we were there was a cross stitch in a frame, done by my Great Grandmother.  "Come to our house for a week or a day, come to our house and don't go away"  My memories of Vernon St. cover all the decades of my life, and though the loss of our home is hard, the wonderful memories of a house filled with love sooths the loss. 

I flew up very suddenly a few months ago, and stayed there, right in Mamie & Puppa's old room.  Bro took a bath in the tub where I was bathed as a baby, and I breathed in the old familiar scent of the house.  I sat in Puppa's "cubby" and just looked at his things.  When it was time for me to go, to leave the house, and say goodbye to Mamie, my focus had to be on Bro, returning the rental car and surviving the flight home (I was sick with the flu, though I didn't know it at the time).  I had no time to think about anything other than my next step, and in a very odd sense feel this was all in God's plan.  If I had known it was my last time, it would have been difficult to walk out the door.

 Since shortly after the death of my Grandfather, the house has sat empty for the majority of the time. Mamie tried to live there after he was gone, but it just wasn't safe, and the time came for her to be moved.  I've been thinking about the saying, "Home is where the heart is", and Vernon St, though much loved by myself, had lost it's heart.  Our family was and is the heart of Vernon St and I can now I can see bits and pieces of it in my own home, in my parent's home, in my brother's home and even in my Aunt's and Uncle's home.

So long Vernon St.  It's been a good 30+ year run! (for me--the house itself was built in 1844)

Bro is 1!

Dear Bro,

I sit here nursing you tonight and wonder how a year can pass so quickly.  I remember the moments leading up to your birth with so much clarity, then remember seeing you for a moment and having you wisked away from me, finally getting to my room and waiting, waiting and waiting to hold you.  After your sister's were born I had them with me.  I had to wait, an agonizing wait, for you.  Six hours after you were born I was able to hold you.  My sweet baby boy.  Before you were born I didn't know what I would do with a boy, and once you got here I didn't ,and still don't,  know  what we would do without you. 

You were the smallest of my babies, weighing in at a mere 6 lbs and 5oz, but at 1 year you out weigh your sister's 1 year stats by at least 2 pounds. 

Weight:  Around 20lbs
Height:

• You wear a size 4 diaper.  Technically you can still wear a size 3 diaper, but K wears a 4, and it's easier if you guys have the same size ;)
• You have 6 teeth!  You have (MANY)  more teeth than either of your sister's did at this age.
• You wear size 12 month clothes.  18 month things are far to big, while most 9 month items are too small. 
• You are walking without any hesitation.  You took your first steps at 10 months, and can now run, climb and get anywhere you want to be.
• You are very verbal, and can say Mama, Dada, Dog, bark :). 
• You love to give kisses, but will only give them to girls or Cody!  Though I did see you give one to Daddy yesterday!
• You want to do everything your sister's do.  When they play out on the carport and I don't let you out with them, you get SO mad!
• You are all boy! You love to hammer, you love balls, you love when we roughhouse with you and you love cars.
• Some of your favorite foods are:  strawberries, blueberries, pasta, cherrio's, peanut butter crackers,  YoBaby Yogurt, chicken, rice.
• You are still nursing.
• I nurse you to sleep and then you sleep in a cosleeper until you get hungry and then you nurse.  I don't usually even wake up. 
• You have never taken a paci.
• You've never had a bottle. 
• You drink water out of a cup.
• You LOVE to take baths and take almost every bath with me.  At times you will take a bath with G&K, or a shower with Daddy.

Bro, my little hershey puff, the nickname given to you by G, there is so much I want to remember about your first year.  I wish I had documented each month, but life has been insanly busy and I've been so involved in living it that I haven't had time to write about it.  You are such an easy baby.  After your first few months of life and a few hospital visits and scares, you have been a healthy boy.  You don't cry much at all, and have an adorable smile and laugh. 

We all love you Hershey Puff, more than you will ever know. 

5 Years!!!

Dear Mr. Monk (aka Daddy P),

Our story really began 7 years and some months ago.

I had just accepted a job at Atlanta Regional.  I was all set to start, when Lee offered me a job much closer to home and I accepted.  July 1 I started.  You were just back from Iraq, and had a job somewhere else, my memory fails me, but something happened (divine intervention), and  you ended up at "Batty General" too.

I still remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you ;)  You were walking into ASTU with our
best friend, well not quite, Renate, getting ready to interview or something.  You started October 1.

It's funny to think about ALL the rumors that went around about us, before we were even dating.  I remember our other "best friend" calling us in to his office to ask us about them.  At that time we were able to legitimately able to say there was nothing going on between us, though, apparently, the staff of ASTU knew so much better than us ;)  If they could only see us now!

During the past 5 years you have not only seen me at my best, but my worst.  And  my saddest, my most hurt, my most irritated, my most hormonal (yes I admit I may be hormonal at times),  my maddest, my most scared, the list goes on and on, and yet you are here, still standing by me at every moment, still loving me.

Getting married in itself was pretty easy; Mom did everything and we simply nodded our heads yes or no.  It was the best wedding I've ever been too.  Marriage is much more complicated.  In a very good way, most of the time, but still complicated.  Throw having 3 kids in 3 years, (G was born in March 08, Bro in April 11) and it becomes more complicated.  Add in Daddy P getting up at 5am every day, driving to A town, working in his cube all day, then fighting the horrible traffic back to us, read all about that here, (still all applies) and me being exhausted (remember our 3, 2 & 6 month old)and sometimes grumpy, when he does get home.  It's not a set up for sunshine and rainbows.

Except,

we do have sunshine and rainbows.  Not every moment of every day, but more moments of sun than rain each day, and the ones that I remember are the good ones.

Some people, probably the majority, think we are crazy for having our kids in our room with us.  More often than not there's at least 1 little body snuggled up between us at night.  I can't even think of the last "full" night sleep either of us got.  But it works for us, and I love that.  I love that without even talking about it, we think the same thing, that the days of having our little ones safe and secure in our room at night, or of having a little snugly body in between of us, are finite.  These days, with all the stresses of them, won't last long, and we both want to soak in every moment.  I'm so lucky, well lucky doesn't quite cover it, I'm blessed to have you by my side, in perfect agreement with me, with no discussions having taking place. 

I love you for loving me:

• when you come home from work and I'm still in my pj's, usually covered in spit up and boogies, sometimes with my teeth still not brushed.
• when i snap at you for no reason at all, and then don't say i'm sorry
• for helping me do the right thing, when it's something I don't want to do at all.
• for encouraging me to stand up for myself and our children, even though it may cause some drama ;0
• for always having time me
• for putting up with my laundry/dishwasher mania.  i know i like it done my way and  not yours, and I try to appreciate it when you help me out.
• for letting me have my quiet bath time each night. 

I could write so much more, but all 3 of our sweet babies are crawling on me now, 2 want to nurse and 1 wants to be pretend.  I'll let you guess who's doing what.

Thanks for marrying me Mr. Monk, but more than that, thanks for loving me day in and day out, when I'm "Sunshine and Rainbows", and when I'm, um, not so much sunshine and rainbows!

9/11/2001

I was supposed to get married in August 2001. 

Instead I had called off my engagement, and decided to move to NYC for an internship.  I finished my classes at GSU and set off on a new adventure.  One in New York City.  Working with people who were living, and dying, with AIDS.

My internship was scheduled to start Sept 10.  At a place called Rivington House.  On the lower east side; close to Little Italy.  When I visited Rivington House for the first time Vinny, the Recreation Therapy Manager took me up to the roof to show me the view.  There was a perfect view of the Twin Towers, and a variety of other buildings.  I was amazed.  I couldn't wait to start, and not just because of the view. 

Vinny called me a week before Sept 10th, my intended start date, and asked if I could delay a week so I could start at the same time as the other intern.  I was happy to wait, and spent that week in Northampton with Mamie & Kenny.

On the morning of September 11, I was awoken by my phone ringing and ringing.  It wouldn't stop.  I was SO annoyed and didn't know why it was ringing like that, that early in the morning.  Finally I picked up and it was a friend of mine telling me to look out my window--which I did, and saw good ole Vernon St, the same as it ever was.  Everyone thought I was in NYC, starting my internship though.  What I learned quickly was that something was happening in New York City, something no one could understand. 

I went downstairs and sat on the couch, while Kenny sat in his rocking chair, Mamie in Kenny's big green chair--doing a crossword, and we all watched as a second plane flew into one of the towers.  I was in shock, and remember asking Kenny what was happening.  We then watched as one, then both of the towers collapsed.  My boyfriend at the time was a reporter, living in New York City, and I called him to see if he was ok, and to find out more details.  They were slow to come.  Everyone was confused.  Cell phone lines were tied up.  People were running, trying to leave the city in anyway possible.

Less than a week later I was headed into the city.  I didn't really understand what had happened, nor the impact of what had happened.  That first night as we drove into the city we were stopped at a check point.  It was a Sunday evening.  I started my internship the next morning.

Though I was born and raised in upstate New York, I was far from a "city girl".  The subways terrified me and I didn't go out after dark (this only lasted for about a month), but now the city I had just moved to had just suffered a terrorist attack.  Things I had never, and have never since experienced became my new normal.  Getting off the train in the lower east side, walking up the subway stairs, the stench would immediately hit one.  It wasn't just a stench of fire, or something that had burnt up, it was the stench of death.  Of decaying bodies.  Some days it was better than others, and some days so much worse.  Then there were the missing persons posters.  Thousands of them.  Covering the walls and stairwells. 

"Last seen September 11, 2001, going into ......"

Things like that were hard.  I still remember the smell.

Other things were scary, like the armed military soldiers, with guns as long as I was tall in the subways.  Police on every corner.

I took a shower every morning before heading into my internship, but also had to take a shower each night.  Being exposed to the air, just a few blocks from the World Trade Center site, left me dirty.  Dirty enough to darken an entire white washcloth.  My hair was disgusting.  I had it cut to just 1 inch all over, and it was still filthy at the end of each day.  I had to stop wearing my contact lenses due to chronic eye infections.  I had chronic sinus infections, and without a doctor in NYC, kept calling my primary care doc back home (he finally told me I had to find a doctor in the city).

On top of living in a city that had just been attacked by terrorists, I was dealing with death every day.  Working with people who were living with AIDS.  Dying from it.  If you've ever seen someone dying from AIDS or AIDS related complex, you know it's not a gentle passing.  It's a horrible, painful, and frightening to watch.  I still remember the ones I worked with who died.  Their suffering.  Things that made them smile.

My brief time in New York City has shaped the person I am today.  The Mother I am today. 

I always wonder what it would have been like if I had started my internship on September 10th.  I would have been blocks away from the attack.  I thank God for the blessing of putting my internship off 1 week. 

Bro is 5 Months!!!

Dear Bro,

Today you are 5 Months old! 

Weight:  16 lbs
Height:  24.5 inches

• You wear a size 3 diaper
• You wear size 6-9 month clothes
• You are a rolly polly little man and roll from your back to your stomach and your stomach to your back.  The only place we can leave you is on the floor, you move SO much!
• You creep along on your stomach, not what I would call a crawl yet, but you are definitely moving along on your tummy, powered by your little feet.
• You love to be in a standing position.  You stood holding onto your exersaucer just the other day, all by yourself, for over a minute!
• You coo and babble all the time.  You love to "talk", and you say "Ma", "Mamma" when you want me, you are the earliest of my babies to say Mama--you started this a full month ago!!!
• You play with lots of toys!  Some of your favorites include:  your blue O ball, your "taggie" blanket that your honorary "Aunt" P gave you, and anything else you can put into your mouth!
• You still don't really take a passy!  Sometimes you will take one, but you aren't a real passy baby.
• You have never had a bottle.
• You LOVE to nurse and would nurse all day long if I let you!  And I would let you, but with your 2 sisters around I have to put you down sometimes!

Fright Night & Our Gift

I'm not a Mom who lets things go.  I notice right away if one of my kids is feeling off and have a great relationship with the nurses at Dr. Mommy Love's office.  I call them with questions and concerns frequently and love knowing them all on a first name basis.  I also love that they know my children on a first name basis and love my  children.

Saturday night Bro wasn't feeling great.  He is 4 1/2 months old (yes I'm a bit late in posting his 4 month letter, I know) so he got some Tylenol, 1 ml of benadryl and a breathing treatment.  He wasn't even that wheezy.  But somehow I knew he needed it.

At 11pm he started gasping for air.  Not the type of gasping where I needed to put him in the bathroom with steam or open the freezer door.  The type of gasping where I put him in his car seat and raced to the ER.  I didn't even put on clothes.  I was in my jammies.    Just my nightgown.  There wasn't time.  Daddy P couldnt' come with me.  G & K were sleeping and instinctively I knew we couldn't wait for Grampy to get here.  I wasn't panicked, I wasn't thinking about what could happen, or what would happen, I was 100% focused on getting him to the hospital.

I walked into the ER doors, and quickly, but calmly, went to the check in desk.

"My baby is having trouble breathing"

I didn't have to check in, didn't have to fill out any paper work, nothing.  A nurse took Bro from my arms, and immediately took me to the back.  There were no private rooms, so we were put into room with 2 others, just a curtain separating the beds.  Things went quickly from there.  Bro went from bad to worse.  He was given oral steroids and 2 special breathing treatments.  We were never left alone.  There was always a nurse, respiratory therapist or Doctor (and frequently all 3) with us. 

I don't remember a lot from my time working with medically fragile children, but I do know that a reading of 48 on a pulse ox machine is not good.  Bro's feet turned purple.  Daddy P got there and had to hold Bro.  I still wasn't grasping the severity of the situation.  Just breathing to get through each minute.  At first we were told we would be there for 3-4 hours, then we were going to be admitted, and then finally told we were going to be transferred to the Children's Hospital....over an hour away.  People say time stands still, but for me everything was going in fast forward. 

We made it to the Children's hospital in 45 minutes.  Daddy P driving behind us in the minivan, me in the ambulance with Bro.  At first we were going to wait for an ambulance from the Children's Hospital to come to us, but then the Drs decided there was no time, so off we went.  Sirens blaring & lights flashing.  I'm still amazed at how calm I was.

Bro received several more breathing treatments and oral medications was able to be taken off the oxygen he was on and admitted to the hospital. 

He's still not himself, but he's home, with us.

Now, that's it's night, that everyone here is sleeping, it's hitting me.  People don't go to the ER expecting their child to die, but it happens.  Our situation could have very easily gone the other way.  Bro could have died.  I've read blogs where that has happened.  In hind sight I can see that even the Doctor's, nurses and RT's were worried.  They NEVER left us.

Life is a precious gift.  After a week filled with tantrums--by both the girls AND Mommy, I was given a reminder of just how precious it is.

A Letter

Dear Kenny,

You always loved a good letter.  I'm sorry I didn't write more of them to you.  I have drawers and drawers full of letters you wrote to me and I love to read them now.  It's funny how the things you say are timeless.  Things you wrote to me years and years ago I can apply to my life now. 

It's been over a year since you died, and I still miss you so much I sometimes can't believe it.  Now I know first hand that you wouldn't want me to sit around being depressed, and I don't do that, but there are times that I'm hit with waves of grief.  Certain smells immediately send my mind to you.  Things like your aftershave, the band aid aisle at CVS (silly I know).  Football season is starting up, and that hits a nerve.  Not as bad as last year, but it still makes me think of you.  Thankfully I have Daddy P, who keeps me in the football loop.  He reminds me so much of you.  His uncle was visiting the other night and they sat in the living room, drinking beer, talking about sports and politics.  It reminded me of being in your living room.

After you died I dreamed about you every night.  For almost 8 months.  Of you dying, again and again.  They weren't the best dreams in the world.  Then they stopped.  You were still close by though--I know that from the night Bro was born.  You were there keeping me calm, I could feel you.   This week I've started dreaming about you again.  Good dreams though.  We're at  Higgins.  Sitting on the porch of the Inn, sculling out in the freezing cold water :)  I wake up happy.

Death & grief are things I thought I understood, after all I worked with people who were dying, and died, for over 3 years.  I'm learning more about it each day.  You were the first person in my family to die.  The first person I knew and was close to anyway.  Our connection was and is strong though.

Life is calling me--well Bro is anyway, and I'm laughing remembering a time you were at the condo on SSI and got a "shower" you weren't expecting.

Wonderful Wednesday

I'm not having the best week.  Just little things that add up to me being on edge so I'm happy to have a reason to list some wonderful things!

7 Wonderful Things in my Life Right Now:

1.  Diet Coke.  I'm currently out of it, but I love Diet Coke.  I love that my husband doesn't give me flack for drinking too many a day.  For right now it's my addiction and as addictions go, it's not the worst thing in the world to be addicted to.  And it gives me energy.

2.  Infants Tylenol.  K is having a hard time, and I think it's because of her 2 year molars coming in and allergies.  Infants Tylenol seems to take the edge off for her.

3.  G's PreK 3 teacher.  Because of her I have no , well very few, problems sending her to school each day.  G is happy to go each morning, which makes me happy, well happier, to send her.  I still miss her, but am happy that she is happy and love having some quality time with K each morning.

4.  Tandem nursing.  1 boob that produces enough for them both.  Nursing both Bro & K lets me have quiet, one on one time with each of them.  It forces me to sit down and be still with my children. 

5.  Sprout, more specifically the fact that it has Barney playing from 1-4am each morning.  So when K has been having a cry, kick, scream, fest  hard time in the wee hours Barney is there.  And Barney calms distracts her enough for me to doze.

6.  Insecticide & Pesticide.  No I do not want my children running in a yard full of chemicals, but I have chosen the chemicals over the stinging and painful biting insects that were in my yard.  After G got stung by a yellow jacket one day and Daddy P got stung by a wasp the next, and the next day I saw a "Cow Killer Ant"  I was ready to spread Agent Orange in the area around my house if it took it.  No more running around barefoot outside, but we haven't had any incidents since then.

7.  Cool(er) mornings.  They are so nice.

10 on Tuesday

1. What do you do for a living?
CEO of the P family.

2. What’s your favorite thing about your job?
I never have the same day. I'm home with my children, I am the one who knows when they are sick first, who witnesses every little achievement and every little mistake. I know everything about them right now and I love that; I don't hear anything about them second hand.

3. What’s your least favorite thing about your job?
Poop. I hate poop.

4. If you weren’t a ____________, what would you be?
I'd love to be a nurse. Maybe someday, but that would entail going back to school, which I don't love.

5. What is something that you would love to get paid for that you think no one would ever pay you for?
Um, my current job! I wish I got paid actual money for it! What I get is worth more than money, but money is what pays for food, medicine and gas, to name a few thins!

6. If you could have any job for exactly one day, what would it be?
Hmmm, I'd have to think about this one and come back. I'm really not sure.

7. If you had to do manual labor, what would you do?
Lawn care? I like mowing our lawn. It's pretty small though, and I'm sure mowing all day every day would get hard!

8. What is something you were forced to learn in high school that was supposed to be super important, but you never actually use?
Math. To be specific anything dealing with more than basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. I hated fractions and I don't ever use them.

9. Who was your favorite boss?
My current boss, Daddy P ;)

10. Where would you rather work: Dunder Mifflin Paper Company (The Office), Wernham Hogg Paper Company (The Office, UK), or Initech (Office Space)?
I think these are TV shows, but I've never seen any of them, so I have no clue

You can find more 10 on Tuesday here :)