Sixteen years is such a short time. Right now, it doesn’t seem like it because it’s all you’ve known, but I was exactly that age when you were born and I could probably, if I choose to, remember a time that there wasn’t a you in my world, but I don’t. Since there was a you, the way I think about life has changed and all of that in the context of having a you somewhere in it. Because of the you in my life, I am more inclined to view the world in a way that offers more potential than ever and more calamity than ever and in such, I have expanded the horizons of my ever.

Lately, sister, you and I have been talking and it occurs to me that we are going to have differences. It has always been me for you and you for me and our age difference has never bothered either of us because we love each other like cupcakes love icing and sprinkles. Tonight, you mentioned something to me and asked me to promise, prior to telling me, not to get mad at you and to not love you less.

Here’s a secret: I’ve been mad at you many times and they’ve only made me love you more.

Sisters are unlike any other love that I have experienced. I don’t know if this is true for others, Sister, but I know this is true for me. It’s not like the love I have for my son, though it is not less in love. It’s not like any love I have experienced with men in life, though it is not less in love. It’s not like the love I have for our mother. It is all encompassing, truly unconditional love that makes me want to be around you all the time but allow you to be free to grow up as an individual. It makes me want to tell you secrets, want to hear yours, and want to have you as a daily part of my life. When I pray, amongst the many things I am grateful for is the amazing, miracle of a sister who arrived in my life just in time to save me from some of the mistakes I could have made and who showed me love when I needed it the most.

Sister, never doubt that you are loved. Always, always, always loved. Never loved less because we disagree. Never loved less because I am profoundly thankful of the good things that you receive. I cannot imagine a world in which I exist that you do not, even though I’ve been there. I love you, Sister. Happy birthday.

Love,
Sister

The entirety of the Thanksgiving trip, AJ wore that mood ring around and carried his “mood chart” to inform us of his mood. “It’s red. I’m angry.” “Do you feel angry?” “No, but the ring is red. I must be angry.”

Well, ok then.

What you need to understand about this situation is that AJ is a sensitive, sentimental little guy, but he loses and breaks stuff on a regular basis. He doesn’t hold onto items and, chances are, if he gets something it will be gone within a week. This brings us to last weekend.

AJ had been feeling crummy and feverish so I said that he could sleep in my room so I could keep an eye on him. As his little eyes drifted off to sleep I looked at those little hands and noticed something blue on his index finger.

Yes, he certainly is lovable and he has managed to keep that ring on him or on his sink every single day. He finally has a sentimental object that means something to him. His mood ring reminds him of his time with his family in Illinois and Lola. Anyone that knows us knows that family is first and, for AJ, time there is everything. When he was sick, he wanted that ring on for comfort.

I don’t know when he’ll grow out of it, but hopefully he’ll have other comfort objects by then. For me, I’m just grateful to see that his comfort comes from his family. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When people say it takes it a community to raise a child, they aren’t kidding. The main reason for this cliche being that children have the energy of ten adults at any given time and they can wear an adult down in the time it takes for one of them to throw an energizing temper tantrum. In a medium-sized home on a holiday, the nooks and crannies to hide in and do whatever your little heart desires are endless. Carson, my cousin’s son who is a new toddler, took this to full advantage.

It helps that when Carson smiles the adults in our family will give him whatever he wants.

During the day, each table in the house had a bowl of peanuts and candy corn resting upon it for guests to snack upon while waiting for a meal or recovering after a meal. There were plenty of these and they were refilled throughout the day. Carson discovered the bowls immediately upon entering the house and would sneak a tiny handful whenever no one was looking. At one point, my cousin Ashley noticed that something was wrong with Carson’s belly button.

It was orange.

He’d stuck a candy corn in there until he got hungry later.

He would climb chairs and adults would sneak him candy corn.

He would crawl under tables with a bowl of candy corn.

Nothing in life had ever tasted as good to him as candy corn.

Carson rarely even babbles. How did I know that he loved candy corn?

At the end of the evening, I watched him slyly walk over to the coffee table. His little eyes were shining and drawn to that bowl of orange. He pinched his fingers together and grasped a single candy corn and raised it to the sky in victory. A look of pure bliss crossed his face as he placed that candy corn in his mouth, closed his eyes and smiled as he chewed.

I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a human being in such a state.

It was beautiful.

Yes, Carson loves candy corn.

We checked his belly button before he left.

We wanted to make sure there were no rogue candy pieces there.

Yes, there was a candy corn thief at my Thanksgiving celebration. And I am thankful for him.

Thanksgiving is always a loud affair. There is no real way that it can be less when you pack around 50 people into a small house. It can’t be a quiet, completely civilized affair when there are at least 10 children in that bunch. We started the lunch at my aunt’s house where she had set up the Wii for the kids and found a surprise: my cousin had me a Mii of great-grandma. So, the superstar of the day was Great-Grandma Z as all the great grandchildren wanted the chance to use her Mii to hula hoop, play tennis and cross country ski.

There was a moment of prayer and the kids jumped into line for what looked like way too much food for the amount of people that were in the house. Casseroles and noodles and turkey and ham and rolls and every carb you could ever want lined counters, the stove and multiple tables. As the little ones picked through the foods they would eat, the adults sat at the tables and talked. The rain turned to sleet but no one was concerned. There was plenty of food and no one needed to be anywhere immediately. The scents of holiday food enveloped us in comfort and we ate plate after plate of food.

And did it again.

And then again.

And had some dessert.

And then ate more food because you can’t waste food.

And ate some more and there was still MORE food.

About that time, the wind howled and the sleet turned into fat flakes of snow that hugged the cars and the sky turned dark. AJ, who rarely sees snow of any real accumulation in TN, yelled that there was snow and he was going sledding! The adults started to get groggy and talk of naps and Black Friday shopping.

As the snow continued, there was a thief on the lose…a candy corn thief…

To be continued…

As expected, seeing my family had a calming, cathartic effect on me. It has taken many years for home trips not to stress me out, but my relationships there are finally where I feel like they need to be and I could have stayed much longer this go around. Sometimes you just want your mommy and your sissy. I think the whole trip can be summed up in these three pictures.

Sweet

Comforting

Loving

A month or so ago, I received a book in the mail to review. Since I wasn’t Pregnant, or planning on becoming pregnant, I wondered how much I would have to add to this book to give it a review of any sort. However, I’m a trooper and when I opened the book, the time flew. I have to say that I was surprised by how into this book I really was. As someone who, when she was pregnant, read what felt like every freaking parenting book out there, I was impressed by this little tome of information.

Let’s start with the obvious: this isn’t a large book. It’s not a step-by-step “how to be dad” book. It’s not going to give you the blow-by-blow details of parenthood that “What to Expect” would give you, nor will it scare you half to death like that book will. What it will do is give you a laid back view of fatherhood written by a man who has been a single dad for a long time.

At times, the book has a crunchy, granola-like feel, but overall, the information felt sound. Some of the most important advice in the book is simple: You are not your parents and you aren’t anyone else. Do your best.

The book hits on important topics such as how to hold a baby all the way through how to talk to your kids about important things. There are aspects of parenthood such as the “how to”s and the things you never consider when you are starting as a parent such as the inevitable poop in the bathtub. Yep. Been there, done that.

Overall, I’d say this is a good book for a new dad or for a new stepdad. It is a book to give to a dad who needs to not be overwhelmed with what is happening or about to happen. If you are a dad who is anal or who likes a lot of lists or being told what to do, this book isn’t for you. But if you just need a primer and a little encouragment, I highly recommend, “Pregnant: A Field Guide to Fathering” by Gary Kleiman.

It ignored me and did what phones do. Glad to see someone around here has a work ethic, because this week I want to crawl in bed with a hot man and a bowl of soup and watch The Golden Girls while I lament about how our bodies break down and it’s not fair that mucus comes out of so many orifices of the body at a rate that is unequal to the rate of liquid I’m putting into my body.

I picked up the phone and saw that it was mom, which was good because I’ve been wanting my mommy for days. I answered and was immediately accosted with the accusation that my son was NOT responding to text messages.

Let this sink in for a minute.

My 9-year old…is not responding…to his grandmother’s text messages.

Now I get to explain why this is a huge deal.

AJ has a cell phone. He’s had one for almost 2 years of a 2 year deal. He does extra chores, beyond his regular ones, to help pay for the $10 his contract costs us every month. He takes his phone with him to his friend’s house and it has come in very handy. His phone has music on it and games and it keeps him from getting too bored.

Recently, Leon and I had made the decision to allow him to have text messaging. He is only allowed to text me and Leon and those who are in his address book. Those people include family and close family friends. He may only text them with their permission and ours. This is a strict rule. He is learning sentence structure and proper communication skills as well as spelling and it seems to be helping.

When I told my mother that AJ was getting unlimited text messaging (to avoid any potential charges and because we have it on a family plan), she groaned. My mother has held out on text messaging for years. In fact, when anyone would mention text messaging, she would groan, glare at us and say “Well, don’t you dare text me. That costs money!”

My mother is not an old woman. She is not yet 50. However, she is incredibly frugal and does not buy anything that is not on sale. She gets angry about how Abercrombie has their name on all of their shirts and that my sister and I do not necessarily share her ideas on thriftiness. She has held out on the peer pressure for text messaging from friends and other family members for ages. My sister and I have begged her to get text messaging for years.

Nope. It wasn’t happening.

3 weeks ago, I mentioned that AJ was getting unlimited messaging and that he would be sending her messages.

Say what you want about the woman, but she’s a devoted NeeNee.

She called last night TICKED that she’s been text messaging AJ like crazy and he won’t text her back.

Love. It’s a funny thing.

When Leon or I am sick, he hates to go to school and when he is here, he will bring ice packs, aspirin, wet washcloths and as many hugs, kisses and cuddles as we will take. There are many nights that he went to bed on a Friday night at 7:30 because I was sick with a migraine and laying there. He would lay next to me, patting my hand, and would eventually drift off.

There is a certain sense of guilt that comes with having chronic pain–that burden that you place on the people around you. The feelings that you may have of feeling like less of a person some days often express themselves at the weakest moments and not always in the best of ways. They often present in anger, misery or irritability. AJ is immune to that when someone is sick.

This isn’t to say that he doesn’t have his egocentric “me me me” side, because he certainly does, but it has never been as strong as I expected. And I’m watching him shed it rapidly and sooner than the developmental scales predict and I wonder about the kind of man he’ll become, and how quickly it will happen. Will I ever be ready for it? People keep telling me to have more children. My guess is that they recognize that there is so much love within me for this little guy that it breaks me.

I worry less about it when I see that I haven’t done an awful job and that my health issues haven’t affected him so dramatically. As he was going to bed tonight, he kissed my cheek, hugged me tightly and said, “I hope you feel better tomorrow, mama.” Then, he gave me the dimpled grin that melts my heart and he and his hoppy little weiner dog went to sleep.

Somehow, I think we’re all going to be alright…

Leon is a huge Boston Red Sox fan. When I met him, he loved the Mets, but I watched him slowly start to root for the underdogs in the league, the Red Sox. When they won the World Series, I don’t doubt for a minute that it was one of the best days of his life. He’d never been able to see them play in person and, on Labor Day weekend, it was going to be a Sox vs. Sox showdown in Chicago. Chicago is only 8 hours from us and only 3 hours from my family. It seemed like a no-brainer to swing by, grab them, and make a family weekend of Labor Day weekend.

As it was only a week before my 30th birthday, there was time for some birthday celebration in there, as well, so my mom and sister were more than down for the trip. We stayed at the Hyatt, in a beautiful room. There were some snafus with the room, which I’ll address later in this blog, but, for the most part, our trip was snag free. Leon decided to go to the game early to see if he could get some autographs and watch batting practice.

What he didn’t know was that, since he had seats in the upper level, security wouldn’t let him down to get close to the players. Papi (Ortiz) was signing autographs and did this for almost 20 minutes solid while Leon had to watch and be sad that he’d gone with the upper level seats. It was pathetic.

You’d think the upper level seats would be poor viewing seats, but they were actually awesome. We were under the shade and the wind was blowing nicely. It was about 71 degrees, give or take, and most of the Red Sox fans were in the upper deck.

Unfortunately, there were also a lot of drunk White Sox fans who made it a point to yell not only at the players, but at the Red Sox fans with a belligerence that was unmatched. One comment we heard from a child was “Take the needle out of your arm, Ortiz!” and from his father, “They didn’t test for ‘roids in 2004!” I was overwhelmed.

When the Red Sox fans would start to chant, the White Sox fans would shout “White” over the “Red” every time. When we’d clap, they’d boo. Frankly, I was a little shocked by the poor behavior. It didn’t take over the game, however. There were some key moments that I won’t forget that were noteworthy here.

At our second game, there was a father that sat in front of us. He didn’t stop smiling for the first five innings and, when he sat down, he proudly announced to the people next to him, that it was his little girl’s first ever White Sox game. She was three and wearing an adorable pink tutu White Sox outfit. She grinned throughout the game and managed to keep her eyes totally off the field. She would look at the people around her and ask their names. Her dad was so proud to have her there that I thought his face would crack. Of course, it was such a Hallmark moment that my baby heart almost teared up and bawled right there. Stupid emotions.

There was also the Russian that sat next to us. We were on the very top row of the stadium during our first game there. This man often spoke to his companions and we had no idea what he was saying, but every now and then, you would hear him yell, “YOOOOOOOOOUUUUKKKK!” (chanting for first baseman Kevin Youkilis) or “Go, Red Sox” in heavily accented voice. When they would do well, he would cheer loudly.

After the game, even when the Red Sox lost, the sense of camaraderie was strong. AJ was wearing his shirt, as was Leon, and a couple that we didn’t know came up to him and gave him the thumbs up. He was confused by this, as 8-year olds know better than to talk to strangers, but he understood that when you root for a team, you are part of a new club.

Overall, yes, the White Sox fans could have behaved better. I’m pretty sure I was spit upon at least twice, but I’m going to give the old woman behind me the benefit of the doubt that she just has trouble controlling her spit. The best part of my experience was being with my family and even if I didn’t enjoy the stadium, I was glad for the chance to be with them.

Thanks to Ellie at Practically Sisters for fixing my photograph!

Happy Wednesday.

“Yes. No. I don’t know, maybe.”

Color me confused because this is not the reaction I would have if I was in my last week of school. Most of his classmates cannot wait to get out of school. Earlier in the week, he’d asked me if he could get his teacher, Mrs. C, a card and I’d said yes. After Leon came home from work, we headed to Target, to get some necessities, some non-necessities and the card for Mrs. C.

Immediately, after arriving at home from the store, AJ began digging in the sack for his card for Mrs. C. I asked him to write her a short note and then sign it. When he showed it to me, I immediately saw why he was so sad to be leaving school.

Thank you for all you did for us this year. Your the best teacher. In the world. don’t leave But say goodby .

(all spelling errors, punctuation and smilies are AJ’s)

He asked me to not take a picture of his writing, but even the writing looked sad on the card. He looked at me and whispered that he “didn’t want to leave Mrs. C” and that he would “miss her so much.”

I’ve mentioned before that this particular teacher made a huge impact on my child. The knowledge that he has is that he will either have a teacher that understands him and his learning style or he won’t. I think there is quite a bit of fear that he will have a teacher that doesn’t and that he will be in the same position he occupied in K-1, where the teachers often misunderstood him.

As a mom, it’s time for me to step in and remind him that he was lucky to have this teacher while he did and that she was precious. However, we’ve learned that he is capable of putting forth a great effort and making some amazing changes in himself that serve him well no matter who he has as a teacher. He will still be in the same school and this teacher will be loving and supportive of him regardless of whether or not he is in her classroom. We will say goodbye gently and lovingly and remember what she has taught him about himself and life and tackling challenges that seem insurmountable. I cannot thank her enough for teaching him something that I could not teach him at the time.

It truly takes a community to raise a child. I’m thankful for the one in which I live. They are wonderful people.

When I finished reading I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Better her than me, I thought to myself. Jen will likely defriend me at this point, and rightfully so, as I should be commiserating with her, but in the age of Chuck-e-Cheese, I’m just thankful I didn’t get roped into this particular dilemna.

AJ has never had a large party. When I go to adult parties, other parents are very quick to judge me when I state this fact. The response is usually a tightening of the lips, a shake of the head and a “but, don’t you think he’s missing out?” or some equally insane statement. If you just relaxed your lips, stopped shaking your head and closed your mouth, then we need to talk in a very serious way.

As a toddler, a big party would have been more for the adults. Consider the statement “Aw, look at all the cute little ones in their cute little pointy hats and their faces all smooshed with cake. Isn’t it precious?” That cute, precious, pointy party would have cost about $200 and he would have ended up with a bunch of presents that would have put people out of grocery money. For the $200, we could buy him presents and those people could buy their groceries. So, we chose to have small parties, spend less than $25 (usually) on a party for him, us, family and close friends and spend a bit on presents (not $200, for the record).

As he gets older, now 8, we still don’t do big parties. This year, we asked what he would like to do on his birthday. He chose to see a movie. That gets expensive with many people, so the compromise was that he could choose ONE friend to take to the movie and then we’d do the bells and whistles for them: ANYTHING they wanted from the snack bar and they got to pick any G rated movie they wanted to see. You would think they died and went to high fructose corn syrup heaven. Before the movie, they went to the McDonald’s and ate dinner and played in the playland for two hours. AJ said it was “the best birthday ever!” and so did his friend.

By keeping his party expectations low, we don’t have to worry about upsets. Sure, he like attending birthday parties, but he also is an introvert who likes a small get together, too. He’d rather have presents and get to do whatever he wants on his day than a 2 hour party.

Another family we know did something similar. They did the big Chuck-e-Cheese party, but they invited family and they allowed their child to choose one kid to come as a guest (AJ) and so they saved money on tokens and all the extras and the child still got the special feeling that a kid gets from doing all the birthday stuff at Chuck-e-Cheese.

To Jen, what about doing a lollipop lottery? Get some dum dums and whoever gets the dum dums with a mark on them gets to come to your 3-4 person party? To everyone else, I’m just glad I’m still worrying about this kind of thing instead of beer parties.

Let me sum up the article for you. Dad gets sick with cancer. Grown daughter gives birth and decides HEY! Boob milk is full of immune boosting antioxidants that my dad should be drinking that will help him fight cancer. Dad agrees and drinks boob milk every day.

And, wait for it, he puts it on his cornflakes in the morning.

I want to believe I’m open-minded to unconventional treatments, but this feels overwhelming to me. This story ends on a hopeful note:

Hope at last
A month after starting the regimen, a scan of Tim’s cancer showed a slight, but distinct, improvement. Although doctors can’t say whether the breastmilk’s helped, Georgia says he’s brighter and has more energy.

She has promised to continue feeding Tim for as long as she can. ‘He has been having chemo as well as drinking the milk so there’s no way of really finding out if it is helping,’ Georgia explains. ‘I’m still feeding Monty so I feed him first, then I fill a bag for my dad. We’ll continue as long as I am breastfeeding.

‘It feels like I’m doing the most natural thing for the people I love. ‘I’ve been there when he has drunk it and it’s just not an issue. ‘Not many women can say their dad drinks their breastmilk. But I would do anything to give my dad more time with me, our family and Monty.’

And I am still processing it. If it were someone I loved, would I be ok with it? If it gave them a chance? What do you think?

For me, I do remember back in high school that there were some lucky kids whose parents were going to cover their education regardless. I’d been told since the age of zygote that this was not going to be the case for me and that I should be working extra shifts because I needed to pay for college. There was no room for delusion in my family. Most of us worked for money, worked for scholarships, excelled in atheltics (not this person, but some other schmucks), or found other ways to make ends meet. The bottom line was that there was pressure to do something on our own because our parents weren’t responsible for our education.

Now, however, as I am exposed to a growing number of high school students, this is not the case. Mom and dad are expected to give up whatever savings they have to foot the college bill. If the child gets a full ride, but needs a new car and gas to put in it, they aren’t expected to a get a job; Rather, mom and dad will take care of it. I’m floored by this ideology. Blah blah blah capitalist society blah blah blah. Part of being in a capitalist society is thought that if you expect to get money, you have to find ways of earning it. The harder you work, the more money you earn, etc, etc, etc.

I’m not going to go into the whole “earning your way into school builds character” because no one I know that is in high school cares. Frankly, I’m 29 and I don’t care that it builds character. If someone said “hey, I’ll pay for the rest of your doctoral degree! ON THE HOUSE!” I’d say screw my character, give me the free education.

Here is my deal: eventually, parents run out of money, or get sick, or the economy dies, or they do and children do NOT KNOW HOW TO COPE ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT THAT HELP. You can hustle and manipulate all you want, but unless you are paying EVERY SINGLE ONE of your bills without the help of your parents/guardians/family members, you haven’t officially stood on your own yet. You’re faking it until you make it and the people around you know it. You can proclaim your adulthood and your independence, but those of us that have done it and continue to do it are humoring you and waiting for you to find your clue.

Quit taking advantage of your loved ones and find a way to make it on your own. I am speaking from experience. For the first couple of years you do need some help. Then it’s time to get off your butt and do it on your own. This is what we did: give up the fun stuff. And the tasty stuff. And the stuff that makes life really good. Until you can afford it. Because until you can, you are essentially stealing from someone else to make your ends meet and lying about your actual “need.” If you have money to go out to eat EVER, but can’t make a car payment so you “borrow” money, you’re stealing. If you go on vacations, even once a year, but can’t pay your rent, yep. If you make excuses to buy new clothes when those who are lending you money haven’t bought them in over 2 years, rethink your life.

Eat at home. All the time. The cheap stuff. Go to Aldis and Save a lot. It’s what broke kids do. It’s what broke adults do. Give up your internet and go to the library and use theirs for free. Get basic cable and drop the premium channels. Do you really need to spend what you spend on your cell phone? Drop down to the most basic plan offered and shut off your text messaging. Unnecessary expenses are just that: unnecessary. Use freecycle and craiglist to get free stuff for your house instead of buying it. Sell stuff you can’t wear/use anymore on ebay. The key here is taking your own responsibility for your situation. If you can’t cut it on your own without borrowing, then by all means, move back in with the parents, but pay rent.

If I sound harsh it’s because I feel harsh about this situation. It’s hard out there and no one says it isn’t. It’s the whole reason you get 18 years to prepare for life prior to being dumped out there. Unfortunately, my guess is that you spent that whole time worried about prom and who liked you. I know I did and reality hit me in the face. The good news is that I made it and you can, too. I can go out to eat. I can have my cable. I can have my cell phone. I have the house and the car. I didn’t get it at 18, though, and I had to work over 10 years for what I have. No one handed it to me. And it’s still not easy, but it’s doable.

My 8-year old, AJ, gets this concept. Like me, he’s heard about this since he was a zygote. He was in the car with me today and said, “Mama, I will need to save my money for a tv.” I was curious about this as we have more tvs than we need for him to watch in our house. I asked him why and he said, “So when I move out I have one.” I was perplexed as I assume this is a ways off and him buying a tv now is probably not a good plan. I asked when he wanted to move out and he said “When I’m a growed up! I don’t want to leave, but you keep telling me I’ve gotta go.” Amen, brother. Yes, you do. And when it’s time, you’ll be ready or you’ll pay rent.