Within the Fog

As much as I love a bright sunny day, waking up to rain or seeing fog hovering over the road as I drive in to work in the morning never upsets me. It might take a little more effort for me to grab an umbrella or to watch that yellow line in the middle of the two lanes so I can get to school safe and dry, but it’s worth the extra challenge to have a day that isn’t traditionally beautiful. I love the sound of the pouring rain. I love getting caught in the rain, and let’s face it, being kissed in the rain is near perfection. But it’s a foggy day that holds even more mystique for me. The fog lingers and hangs. And when it’s ready, it dissipates.

This morning as I drove to work in the fog, anticipating the business of the day before me, I thought about the mystery of time and of my many responsibilities and then I found myself reflecting on the job of being a mom. I thought of how I used to be careless with time. I miss those days when I ran outside to play after school or on a Saturday morning, completely unaware of when it’d be time for our next meal or whether or not I had to go to the dentist’s in a few hours. That’s what Mom was for, to keep track of the time, and to go to the door to call my name into the air when it was time for me to come inside. Now I’m the mom at the door, or rather, on the cell phone, awkwardly texting the kids to say, “It’s time to head home”.

I came across a piece from Anna Quindlen yesterday. She writes, “Sometimes, missing my mother, I lose track of whether I am missing a human being or a way of life. Our mothers only slowly become people to us, as we grow older and they do, too...There is something primitive about this love and this loss. What does it mean, to sleep beneath the heart of another person, safe and warm, for almost a year? No scientist can truly say.”

I have three children, but I’ve been pregnant four times in my life. I’ve had a child sleep beneath my heart four times. For anyone who has never experienced that, let me simply say that it is indeed a primitive feeling of wanting, no NEEDING, to protect that little being at all costs. I got lucky and raised three out of four of the precious hearts that once would beat right next to my own. One heart, my oldest daughter is an exuberant college junior, thriving in her circle of social, academic, and creative pursuits. Another heart, my second daughter, is presently feeling a bit anxious, balancing her senior year expectations with her big dreams for a career on stage. The third heart, my only son, has a heart that beats fast running on the soccer field, texting like there’s no tomorrow, and eating me out of house and home. The fourth heart I lost too soon. I never met her, the daughter I lost in a miscarriage back in 1998, but I will. Someday.

Actually, fog or not, I’ve been thinking often about my feelings towards motherhood and the passing of time. I have been reassuring myself that I did regularly show appreciation of my own mom, and that she always knew how much I loved her. I said it routinely and I said it in grand gestures too. I say it now. And I am recalling one Christmas Eve in particular when I went to bed after a beautiful evening with both Mom and Dad and when I said to myself, “I must never question whether or not I have told my parents I love them. I have said it loudly and clearly. I have said it often, lest they forget. I must remember this”.

Each August my family and I go to camp for an annual family vacation at the lake and we visit with my Mom and Dad for two weeks. Things have changed from how these vacations once were, but this past summer, on the first night of my arrival, I made a mistake which showed me that a mother’s love is immutable. Knowing her work schedule would force her to return home after just a few days, my daughter had gone to camp before us. After unpacking my own suitcase, Sydney and I hopped in our kayaks to catch the sunset. I’d not had a chance to talk with Syd about her first few days with my parents and the two of us lost track of time as we watched the sky and its gorgeous colors. We were not far from camp but an island obstructed our family’s view of where we were. As we paddled in, directly after the sun had sunk below the horizon, my husband and father appeared on the front deck. I quickly realized they had been worried about my daughter and I. I said my apologies, but got the heads up that someone inside the camp was quite upset. My Mom.

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I surely did not intend to frighten you. I am sorry”, I said. I reached down instinctively to give her a hug.

My Mom grabbed my arm to stop me and with her eyes opened wide she made strong eye contact with my own. “Don’t you EVER do that again!” she scolded. I felt ten years old again. I know she said more but I have since forgotten what else she said. I was overtaken with the realization that to her, I was still a child who had acted recklessly and without thought or concern for her feelings. My first instinct was to smile for I was truly touched by her love, “She was worried about me. She still loves me", I thought...but I bit my lip and instead promised her I would be more careful next time.

There may be days when the fog takes much too long to dissipate or when the passing of time and life's changes all become too much for me to accept, but what I must remember on mornings or evenings when I am quiet and missing my Mom like I am today, when I am full of unnecessary regret or remorse or even anger and frustration in thinking of how I wish it were as it once was, is that I know my mother loved me. Correction: She still loves me...with all her heart...with everything she was, is, will be. I know this for sure. Despite the weather, the age, the time on the clock, there is no greater love than the love a mother has for her children.

Never Say Never

Two weeks ago, on August 27th, my husband and I joined a gym. It was the first time either of us had done such a thing, although we had talked about the idea for a few years. “I’m not a gym person”, I had been telling myself for quite some time. Extremely self conscious and worried over investing money into something I might abandon after only a few days, I had tried walking in my neighborhood for exercise and indeed that had been a most successful way for me to lose weight after the birth of my third child almost thirteen years ago. In the last few years we had done some hiking and had purchased a couple of swim passes for the local pool. However, we were not making these jaunts on a regular basis. And after tracking our food and losing some weight last summer, this past year we had both eaten our way through stress and had given in to the comfort of a new sectional couch and multiple cable channels. Much to our disappointment, we had both regained the weight.

Knowing the start of the school year was approaching and knowing that we knew that the months ahead were going to be difficult for a number of reasons, we began thinking about joining a gym. A family health crisis had clearly made us realize that getting fit needed to be a priority for each of us. We wanted to be realistic in our efforts but demand better of ourselves. We heard of a great special to join a gym for a year at a minimum cost. We discussed how we could go there on our way home by taking an alternative route. We decided we were doing this.

Walking into the gym, I tried to mask my nervousness. A trainer at the front desk welcomed us both as I told her we both wanted to join under the special we’d heard about on the radio. I added that I needed help. I had no clue how to begin to work out at a gym, had no idea how to work any of the machines, and had only used a treadmill at home. She quickly reassured me that the gym had trainers who would show us everything we needed to know and that we could design our fitness plan with the help of a trainer at no extra cost. Signatures went down on paper. We received a tour, and the best part of that was seeing people ages 18-80 working out. “This isn’t bad”, I thought to myself. Everyone there seemed to be minding their own business. No one was judging us. Folks were friendly but focused on their own workouts. Eric and I began on two treadmills, side by side, clocking in a half hour. We followed that up with a half hour strength-training circuit and then we headed home.

I made it back to the gym four times that first week, and Eric went five days. Last week, after suffering a bad head cold, I put in only two. But my sneakers and gym clothes are already packed for my return tomorrow afternoon and more importantly, I’m feeling empowered. Each night I check in with the kids, find out when they need me to pick them up after sports practices, and I think of my workout schedule. I walk into the gym, say hello to the trainers behind the desk, and I go right to work. I’m working on building stamina right now so I head to a treadmill where I briskly walk for 35-40 minutes and I follow that up with either cycling or the strength-training circuit. I’ll improve, but for right now, it’s about creating the habit of getting to the gym each day and staying for an hour.

 The act of joining the gym has reminded me the truth of the phrase, “Never say never”. So much for not being a gym person. Who knew I’d be this comfortable and this determined to get there as often as possible?! Oh yes, the best days of my life may indeed be those awaiting me in the future. But more importantly, today, right this moment, with my gym bag packed for tomorrow, I am happy. I am loving the feeling I have after each workout as I get back into my car. I feel the sweat dampening my hair at my neck and I know I’ve done something good. I am making healthy choices. I am doing this for me. I am doing this for my husband. I am doing this for my children and my future grandchildren. I'm doing this to honor the life I have been given and the opportunities that I am blessed to have. I do this to know I am choosing health and wellness. I have a long way to go, but little by little I am building a lasting, physically fit, active lifestyle and don’t you worry, I am going to get there, to those beautiful days in my future, and I’m going to be feeling great.

He's Got This

I’ve started this blog post today several times. I write a sentence or two, or even a paragraph...and then I hit hit delete. I try to hold in the truth of what I want to say, what needs to get out. I try again to focus my eyes on the page. I take deep breaths, look outside, try to offer my worries up to God, work to gain perspective. I make a short mental list of what I’ll do today, this morning, this next half hour. I give myself a pep talk, I give myself permission to do whatever comes my way, to give up plans, expectations, must-dos. I have a head cold. I tell myself this is why I am so shaky, so uncertain, so tired, so weak. I try to see the beauty of the world, to trust in the process of this thing called life, to remember through prayer and the support we receive from friends and family, there is relief from pain and suffering.

But then I feel a tear fall from my eye. There it is. It fell right there on my cheek despite how much I was demanding it not to. Betrayed by my body. Again. Or maybe it was God who pushed it out of my eye. “You’re not in charge here”, He says. “I’ve got this. Remember?”

So let me just say it. We are losing our Moms. Me. Eric. And the other day my friend Veronica lost hers. And I’m so sad about these losses. So freakin’ pissed, in fact. So unbelievably overwhelmed by it all. It hurts and it sucks. Today I don’t want to be mature about this. I don’t care whether or not I am supposed to be strong. I don’t want to be understanding and patient. I just want our Moms back, our completely healthy, happy, loving Moms.

Maybe there’s more for me to say. I should talk of how lucky we have been to have had our Moms for the number of years we did. I should put this all in perspective and accept that none of us will get out of this world alive. I should speak of how through these losses we are learning some of life’s greatest lessons. I know all this and those insights and beautifully packaged emotions will no doubt come from me in all sincerity at a later date. But today, I am going to let myself fall apart for a little while. Let the tears fall and remind myself that I am not in charge here. None of this was my decision or my fault. I’ll trust that God has my back and that He’s got this. He’ll even understand my anger and my frustration at Him. He knows I’ll pull it all together by the time my children come home. Because at the end of the day I know what’s true. We are losing our Moms. But my three children will NOT lose theirs any time soon, right God?! No, not if I have anything to say about it.

A Grocery Cart Moon

Although I was tempted to relax at home this evening, knowing we were out of milk and that the children had few options for breakfast on what would be their first day of school, I went grocery shopping. I zipped through the aisles pretty quickly and it was a little before 8:00pm when I made it to the check out line. With my groceries paid for, I headed out to the parking lot. The skies were darkening as I got back out to my car but the moon was so beautiful. I packed the trunk of my car but I took my time. I felt the air of the summer evening, listened to the sounds of my surroundings, and stared up at that glowing moon.

I love it when our minds halt moments in life so unexpectedly. Taking a deep breath, I smiled to myself. Being outside at night is one of my favorite ways to hit the pause button. It doesn’t matter what the weather, what the season. When I’m under the dark skies of evening, I stop and take everything in. The world and all its craziness will keep spinning but I have power too. One look at the moon tonight and I was living in the moment.

Knowing I’ll see my kids off and then head into school myself in the morning after what has been an incredibly full but happy summer, I am thinking about how many times I have felt overwhelmed, struggling to balance tomorrow with yesterday. Many times I have caught myself saying, “I just need to get through this week” or “Things will be better when …” but the truth is, my life will always be busy, rich, and full, and time will never slow down unless I make a choice to change my focus in a particular moment. My family is active with various hobbies, commitments, and friends and family time woven together.  Our schedules are jam packed. But music, theater, dance, soccer, volleyball, teaching, writing, directing, singing, cooking...these are all part of what makes my family happy. Giving up those activities might make life slow down a bit but in all honesty, I believe in letting my children dictate the pace of their lives. Like her older sister Sydney, Emma knows she could curtail her academics or her hobbies, but she feels fulfilled as things stand now. The girls enjoy being busy, they've each told me so. Paul has told me he’s probably not going to play a winter season sport but how he is looking forward to soccer in the fall and lacrosse in the spring. He’s making decisions on his schedule now that he’s in Middle School. Eric will continue to direct and although I will miss him during the work of the productions, I’ll be busy with classroom research, planning, and writing. I’ll balance school with my love of keeping house--cooking, decorating, preparing for holidays, playing with my young dog, and checking in with family and friends.

Yes, we are busy. But we are a grounded family. We take on what we know we can handle and we scale back when we know we're doing too much. We’ll continue to pitch in on weeknights to keep our home orderly and to eat healthy. We’ll take time to talk, to laugh, and to share our days. We’ll cuddle up with one another when we need a hug or just want to snuggle. And when one of us looks up in the sky and sees the moon lighting up the night, or a falling snowflake that trickles down to the ground, we’ll be quick to stop and to take it all in. These are the moments where we remember that we can push the pause button anytime we need to.

The Crazies

Okay, I admit it. When there’s only a week or so left of my summer vacation, I get crazy.  No. Let me be clear. I get REALLY crazy. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the crazies take over my body. That’s right. It’s as though I am completely possessed by some external mischievous scamps who crawl in and mess with my emotions. I have come to recognize this in myself. I try to hold onto my sanity, to breathe deeply, to be rational,  and to talk myself away from the ledge, but I just can’t help myself. My eyes see the calendar, my mind does the counting, and my head explodes. The crazies come! There is so much I wanted to do! There is so much I had to get done! I will lose my freedom! I need to clean, to organize! I need to run away to the beach! I need to read another book! I need to have as much fun with my family as I can possibly squeeze into these last few days!

My poor family. This year it was said aloud, “Summer is almost over. Mom’s getting crazy”. There were smirks. There were eyes rolling. There was placating. I even agreed with my husband and kids and made fun of myself. But then yesterday I REALLY lost it. With just three days before I return to work, I wasn’t getting to the beach quickly enough. We got home from Sunday mass and I changed into my bathing suit and threw the sunscreen and my Kindle into a bag. I made sandwiches and found a bag of carrots and some grapes. In went some sodas too. Was I being timed on how efficiently I could pack? No. I tried to be more nonchalant. Emma was a good sport and helped me load the van with a blanket, chairs, cooler bag. But then Eric wasn’t getting up from his chair. He had a headache. Paul acted surprised that we had plans to go to the beach. He got whiny. I reminded everyone that this had been the plan for the day, that it meant a lot to me. I tried to stay calm. But my eyes went to the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sunlight hours are diminishing, the crazies suggested to me. This was the last day we’d be able to go to the beach together. Dentist appointments loomed over the next two days. We had to go. It had to be today. It had to be NOW.

I took a deep breath. I thought about leaving the boys home. It could be just Emma and I who went to the beach. No big deal, right? It might be nicer to go with only my daughter. She was happy to read on the beach for hours. The boys would get restless. Why was I getting so anxious?! But then my imagination went to the day I had envisioned us having. The crazies didn’t want to settle for anything less than being with the entire family.

The boys came through. After hearing my plea, they got in the van and we all headed out to go to the beach. But then, at the end of the driveway, I began having second thoughts. What fun would it be to take a husband with a headache and a son who didn’t want to go in the first place? I drove the van back to the garage. “I’m going”, said Eric. “Mom, I’ll go”, said Paul. But it was too late. My eyes were already watering and God knew, this had nothing to do with going to the beach with everyone. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t want any part of summer coming to an end.

There were words. There were tears. There was even some swearing. Let me be clear. All those words, tears, and inappropriate expletives came out of me. The husband and the children were quiet. They knew what was happening. Mom had been taken over by the end of the summer crazies again. I even went so far as to throw my car keys as I stormed out of the van and into the house. Who was I ? Was I seriously this upset? In short, the calm, mature woman I usually consider myself to be? Yeah, well...she was no where in sight.

It was a short tantrum. I regret it but only because my son now has some ammunition against me should he ever decide to swear, or so he told his sister. But truthfully, I needed to let the crazies out. They were too powerful. It was hard to suppress them. And after a good sob session with my patient husband (the kids hid outside after I stormed into the house), I felt better. I even smirked first. I think. Maybe Eric did. But in any case, within 10 minutes, we were both laughing at my nuttiness of course. It’s true you know. It’s so important to marry someone who makes you laugh. To marry someone who YOU are able to make laugh. I cannot emphasize this enough. Don’t settle for anything less. Life is serious enough. It gets hard, and I’m not simply talking about the ending of vacations. There’s a lot of change going on right now and it’s all hitting me at once.

I meekly asked Eric if we could all go to the beach. And when he said yes, I started to cry, this time only to center myself, or maybe out of pure relief that this guy still loves me, crazies and all.

We returned to the van. I started to apologize to the kids (those poor innocent kids), but then I started laughing. Luckily, they did too. Then I heard their version of what they’d witnessed and we all cracked up again. Thankfully, they’ve inherited our sense of humor. “I’m sorry”, I said again, in all sincerity.

It was a lovely afternoon to be at the beach. The water was warm, the breeze was refreshing. We all went for swims. We read and napped and talked and snacked.  And even though I knew in my heart that I had guilted them all into going and had made the whole trip pretty darn awkward at the start, I was surrounded by three people who love me unconditionally, three people who know every neurotic part of me and who forgive me when I annually have to deal with this back-to-school transition each August. For we all know that I’ll be fine in another week or two. Life doesn’t end when my summer vacation does. There’s beauty and love in every season, in every little adventure we take, whether individually or together as a family. We are blessed all twelve months of the year.

Forever needing to take pictures, to somehow preserve as many memories as I can, maybe in fear that it’ll all be gone before the sun sets one day in the near future, as we prepared to leave the beach at the end of the afternoon I asked my daughter to take a shot of Eric and I. I put my arms around my husband and without skipping a beat Emma said, “Proof that my parents still love each other, despite the keys that were thrown in the garage”. Then she giggled.

That’s right Emma. The crazies may come again next August, if not sooner, but once again, they’ll be run out with a few tears and lots of love.

Weathering the Storm

Don’t get me wrong, I think thunderstorms are pretty cool. I love them best when I am at my camp on the lake where I can see the weather moving across the lake. My grandmother used to fear them, but I am not afraid. In fact I love their drama. Yet every so often there is a powerful thunderstorm that jars me awake and which plays upon my imagination that unless I keep my eyes wide open until it’s over, my house will be struck by lightning. I do fear fire. So, whether it is out of a love for the dramatic or concern for my roof, it is rare that I will roll over and return to sleep during a mid-night lightning show.

When the children were younger, one clap of thunder would send them to our bedroom during storms. Rarely would they cry, but one by one, each would crawl out of bed only to slip under the covers of ours. One would pop between Eric and I. Another would sidle up to my side of the bed, waiting for me to lift up the covers in invitation. There were a couple of times when we’d have all three children with us. And the dog. Charlie was terribly frightened of thunder. She’d whimper and shiver until we invited her to join us in bed. That’s usually when the giggles would start and the storm outside was nearly forgotten.

In my mid-forties, I am beginning to read of my friends’ experiences with “empty-nest syndrome”. With another six years before Paul graduates from high school, I don’t often worry myself with such thoughts of what it will be like to be childless. But every so often it is quite apparent that I am no longer needed the way I used to be. And nights with thunderstorms, when I am the only one awake, well, those nights most certainly drive home how life has changed. Our dear Charlie, even, is no longer with us. And the new pup, even at the age of one, sleeps through thunderstorms on the bedroom floor without a care in the world.

The other night we had a powerful storm just after 2:00am. “It’s okay”, I told myself as I watched the skies light up and counted the seconds before hearing a clap of thunder. My husband slept peacefully beside me. I took a deep breath and flipped my pillow over, thinking that maybe, just for once, I’d try to fall asleep before the storm ended. But that’s when I heard it. My heart skipped a beat. The bedroom door opened a crack and that mature, cool twelve-year old son, my baby, peeked his head in.

I had to play this right. “Wow, I’m surprised that your sisters aren’t in here already”, I whispered to him. “This is a really powerful storm”.

“Yeah”, Paul said.

“Can you believe how close the lightning is? I can barely count a second before I hear the thunder”, I added.

That’s when I took the chance. I flipped back the covers,  hoping he’d accept the invitation to wait the storm out with me. But I prepared myself for the rejection. In my head, I counted. One. Two. Three. Four.

It was the best thunderstorm of the summer.

Through Sickness and in Health...

When Eric and I took our marriage vows, back in 1988, I foolishly imagined we would not test the “through sickness and in health” part until we were old and gray. We were both young and strong, marrying at ages 23 and 20. But in 1994 a prenatal test was taken too early and the false results cost us a few days’ peace before another one confirmed that our second daughter was going to be okay. It was our first jolt of reality that life can turn on a dime. We then suffered a miscarriage in 1998 and grieved that terrible loss, then walked on eggshells as we expected our next baby in 1999. All in all however, we were blessed with three children, all very healthy. No broken bones, no scary childhood diseases, only one rough month of severe physical reactions when Sydney had her wisdom teeth out at age 17. It’s a rarity that any of us come down with the flu, and there have been only a couple of times when Eric and I have needed one another to offer tender loving care for more than a day or two. Although I must admit that I am not the most patient of caregivers, I was there for him when he had surgery on his ankles to improve their flexibility. He was there for me (and surpassed me in consideration) when I suffered two bouts of pulled back muscles. Of course there was the one time I was frightened thinking I had breast cancer after my first mammogram showed abnormalities, but a subsequent exam again gave me a reprieve. We have been quite lucky. We are blessed.

But now our vows of 1988 are truly being tested. You see, what I was most naive in thinking all those years ago, was that the sicknesses we would need to endure together would be our own, or even those of our children. But that’s not the whole truth of the marriage vow. It appears that it applies to a wider circle. It seems Eric and I are meant to go together, hand in hand, tear by tear, through the trials of our Moms’ illnesses. Our Moms are both facing unique battles, despite the difference in their ages (my Mom is 85, his is just 67). There are no false tests to look for this time around. Although there is always hope, for nothing is impossible with God, the present and different health situations our Moms face reminds us the importance of all it will take to be there for one another again. 

The days, weeks, months, and years ahead will challenge us both, not to mention our loved ones. Some of what we face we must work through as individuals. Much of what we’ll endure can not be predicted. But our marriage vows are not to be forgotten. After all, our Moms each stood as witness to the love that brought he and I together. We were both raised by stoic, selfless, strong, sensational women. I have absolutely no doubt that Barbara’s first child and Doris’ last child will continue to make their Moms proud.


The following websites offer you a way to make a contribution to fight for the abolishing of the diseases that our Moms endure. Thank you for your generosity whether in monetary donation or in prayer.

https://www.cancer.org/involved/donate/donateonlinenow/index

http://www.alz.org/join_the_cause_donate.asp