Fear

Sometimes, many times I can't watch the news. It paralyzes me with fear. Fear that someone, someday, today perhaps will come into my children's school, my husband's office or my own home and take my life away. In a heartbeat it would all be gone.

So many stories of mass murder, rape, school shootings, cars driving into buildings. I just can't handle it. I think of myself as a pretty stable person most of the time. As stable as a working mother of 2 can be anyway. I find myself obsessing about how to keep my family safe. I don't allow my kids to ride on the freeway with anyone other than my husband or me. Not even my parents. Just too scary. I don't allow my first grader to go on field trip that require a freeway trip or a school bus. Too scary.

Last year we faced major safety issues with Mira's after care provider. After bringing it to their attention and hoping for beefed up safety guidelines and commitment, they kicked us out. Out, goodbye Dahlstroms, we are done with you and your concerns.

We are not people who sit idly by and let things go. We are not complacent people. We speak up, speak out and advocate for change. But still, my fears are always there. What if I get sick? What if I die and leave my kids and husband alone? What will happen to them? How will they grow up without a mother? Live without a wife? Sometimes I want to curl up on my bed, under the blankets and never leave the house. Irrational? Probably. Nuts? Probably more normal than we think. We just don't talk about it.

While I know that it's impossible for me to protect my children all the time. It's my job. It's my one great and possibly the most important responsibility a person can have. To protect life. It's because of this responsibility that I cannot relax if my children are out of my site. Although I know they are well cared for at school, loved by their teachers, grandparents and mothers of friends. I simply cannot relax.

I have friends who let their children go to other kids' houses for play dates that barely know the parents. Others go on long field trips on buses and are away for days. I just don't know if I could manage that. I don't want to prevent my kids from doing the things that their friends do, normal things of course in anybody's opinion. Even in my opinion. I just want to drive them there and stay with them.

I think about other parents on the news who have lost their children. I think about how I would not be able to live without my children. I would not be able to breathe. I don't know how they do it to be honest. Even with the therapy they must surely get.

Sometimes if I can't get a hold of my parents or a baby sitter if we are away or out on a date night I start to sweat and my body turns cold, all at once. I can't imagine I am the only parent this happens to? My mind races and I go immediately to the worst case scenario. Why do I do this?

My dad used to stay up late waiting for me to come home when I was a teenager. My mom was able to sleep with no problems. Fascinating. My Bubbie, my dad's mom was the queen of worrying. She called if she didn't hear from you at the specified time. She tracked you down. She gnawed her little fingers until they bled. I do the same thing by the way. She must have loved it when mobile phones became popular.

I honestly believe there is a gene within us called the worry wart gene. Or in my case, the doomsayer gene. I hate this about myself. I want so much to be able to just live life with abandon and be a more positive person. I wish I could let it all go and not be so overprotective and panicky. Aside from therapy what can I do? It's me. I'm passionate and in love with my life and don't want anything to take it away from me.

As irrational as it all may seem to me and to you, it takes only one split second for a life to change. For the future to be altered forever. So call me over protective or even call me nuts. My job is my job, my purpose in life is to be a mother and a wife. To me, this is what it looks like. I know some day my kids won't let me smother them any more. They'll be driving at some point and I will have to accept that. I pray we stay very close, respect each other and that they don't get the doomsayer gene. It's exhausting.

The Non-bucket List

So I realize that I only blog once or twice a year. Yea, well at least I do it. If I seem a little defensive, well I am. Guilty is probably the better word for it actually. I'm inspired by others' blogs, laugh out loud at many of them. Many times I want to write, need to write and just don't. I beat myself up for it a lot.

You see I am watching my life simply fly by. Whizz, zoom at lightening speed. I am turning 44 (really?) in 2 months. I'm watching my little blondie lover boy grow up before my eyes into an articulate little smartie pants. My daughter is 7 going on 25. It's nuts, nuts, nuts. Everyone with kids always says, "It goes so fast, treasure your time with your kids." Fast is an understatement.

I do try to treasure my time. I try to remind myself and my husband to enjoy our children, to cherish the time with them, to appreciate the little things. It's hard to do. There's always something else. Laundry, work, lunches (Kevin makes them), beds to make, errands to run, you get the gist. We all go through it. We all struggle with it.

We do sit down and eat together every night. We all say our 'favorite things' which is a favorite thing in itself. And that's our time together each day. Then we're off to bath time, story time and bedtime. Kevin makes dinner every night and then the lunches. It's draining our life, simply exhausting. This is the reason lately I am feeling guilty for something else.

I always hear about people who have 'bucket lists'. Things they want to do, see, experience before they die. I saw the movie, I know what they are. Before the movie I never gave it a second thought. I may not have even known what the heck a bucket list was to be honest. Well, now I'm older and have a family and darn it I need a bucket list.

I need to have this wonderful collection of places to see, skydiving adventures, learning French, getting an advanced degree, becoming a millionaire, learning to fly a plane...yadda yadda. You get it. I hear all of these things from people. One of our friends is running with the bulls this summer in Pamplona. Now that's a bucket list item for sure.

To me this sounds insane. I think I finally realized why I don't have my own list. I'm a homebody, full time working mommy who just doesn't have the energy to think about putting one together. Or is it something else?

Maybe I just don't want to do any of those things? I know what I like to do. I like, no love to watch my kids laugh, to watch my husband laugh. I love being thankful for their health, the health of my parents, my family and our friends. I love going to birthday parties, gymnastics classes, out to dinner and to the movies (although I rarely do that one.) I can't really come up with anything for my bucket list.

The things that I really, really want to do in my life are pretty simple and I will not by any means feel like I've missed out if I don't add anything else to my non-bucket list.

I want to see my kids be happy and joyful children. To be kind and compassionate. To know that they are good people and good to others. I want to see them do well and enjoy school. Not just do well but love education and do great work as adults, whatever that means to them.

I want to spend many holidays with my parents. I want my parents to be a part of our lives for many, many more years despite their health issues. I want to treat them well and respect them even though we don't always see eye to eye. I want to make them proud of me.

I want to continue to work at being closer to my brother and to know his children someday. (When he has them!) I want to be a favorite aunt.

I want to spend a long and loving life with my super daddy husband. I want to spend many hours laughing with him. I want to continue learning how to be a better mother, friend, wife, daughter and sister.

I want to do good work, meaningful work. I want to be valued for my thoughts, ideas, creativity and innovation. Check that one off the list.

So, I do have a pretty long list, just not the kind some other people have. And I'm OK with that.

SO, here we are. Somewhere between 2 and 2 and 1/2. Somewhere between baby and toddler it's starting to happen. I realized in the last few days that my baby is not a baby anymore. This little, independent, strong, assertive child is slipping away from me. Not really of course but that is how I am feeling. We used to cuddle more. Now it's mostly more about trucks, cars, vacuum cleaners and Einsteins than me. It could of course be my imagination. Independence is creeping in more and more. It's funny. Sometimes I feel like me life is like that scene you see in music videos or on cars. A person is standing in the middle of a ton of whirling lights all around them. It's one giant blur and the person is the only thing in focus. That's me. And I'm not that in focus most of the time to be honest. But, that's my life. One big, humongous blur. I'm sure other parents can identify. Where DOES the time go? How is it that it's December 1st already? Where is my baby? Where is my first baby? Who am I?

It actually is funny and sad. I just want to stop the frenetic pace sometimes. Most times. I hate that I'm 42. I hate that I am out of breath when I race up the stairs. I hate my wrinkles and gray hair. But I don't want any regrets. I don't want to look around when I'm 70 and feel like I didn't stop to appreciate my children, my husband, my family. But I'm not sure how to accomplish this. Scream at the top of my lungs, "EVERYONE STOP TALKING AND LET ME LOOK AT YOU!!!" Don't think so. Amidst the screaming, whining, crying, homework, dinners, meltdowns, tears, stresses, school work and everything else, I'm not sure how to be that person that takes it all in. To not regret so many things. I hate how I speak to my kids and my husband sometimes. OK, a lot of the time. I try to be more patient, I do. I just think I suck at it.

All the while I am desperate to hold onto my baby. The boy who needs me, wants me. He does still need and want me, right? Ironically however the boy who I did not want. That's right, I really wanted another girl. I sat in the car in my daycare provider's driveway when we heard the news from the genetic counselor. "No genetic issues. And, it's a boy." I immediately started to cry. I had no idea what to do with a boy.

My aunt told me to be thankful. As she well knew, so many people would be thrilled to be able to have a child in the first place. Selfish, selfish I was. Why couldn't I just be happy to be having a normal, healthy baby? Again, I suck.

I spend a lot of time feeling guilty for what I say and do. Instead of just saying and doing the things that people want me to say and do. I let everyone know my "inside voice" as a colleague says. Why? I'm a pretty good communicator. I say what I feel. I let people know. Why not? I grew up around and in a family of good communicators. Everyone said what was on their mind.

We never really mastered the "hold your tongue" attitude. Pity. It could have saved many a hurt feeling. As we grow older, we do grow wiser I think.

So growing older, living in a crazy life that is wizzing by isn't all that bad. I just need to take more time to be easier on me and on my kids and my husband. It is what it is and I am who I am. Although I may not like me every day, I think I'm a pretty good person and mommy and wife. At least I hope I am.

Of course as soon as I saw the son I really did not want all of that changed. I could not imagine a happier baby. He truly is the Love Muffin I used to call him. My little Julie Bean, my sweet, delicious love.

I pray that he always needs me, that both my kids always need me. Despite how I might suck at things from time to time. Love conquers all. Love heals all. And family always loves till the end of the earth. Up to the sky and back again. I know no other way to love.

My Beloved Jazz

Monkey Head, Mummy, Lover, Monk, Sweet Love, simply Monkey and Jazz Ma Tazz are a few of the names I called one of my first 2 babies back in 1997 when she came to live with my former husband and I. I had never had a long term pet and was so, so excited to finally have not one, but two! Two cats because you have to get two so they're not lonely I justified.

So, on an early morning winter day we staked out the local animal shelter in Wilmington, DE waiting for them to open in a parking lot across the street. Since it was winter time there really were no kittens anywhere. And I called all of the shelters. Those who know me, understand that when I set my mind to something there's no stopping me.

So there we sat, the minutes ticking away until opening, waiting. Finally it was opening time and we sped across the street into the lot of the Delaware Humane Association. We walked in and in the lobby was a tall, metal cage with about 6 kittens in it. They were all about 6 weeks old. One of them, Victor was practically hanging from the top of the cage. He was a nut and I wanted him. Unfortunately or fortunately as luck would have it he was "on hold" and not available. So next was a black and orange "Tortie" as she was called. Her name was Agatha. Who the hell named her that I wondered? How terrible. She was adorable and we chose her right away. We called her Bijou. (Boodie, Boo, Shmoobie)

Next up was a little grayish brown tabby named Belle. A pretty name for a pretty girl. We signed the papers agreeing to spaying, etc. and the girls were packed up for us in cardboard boxes. I cannot recall whether or not they shared a box at the time. Off we went to show them their new home.

The early days and weeks were full of craziness. Fighting, lots of meowing and territory struggles. Boodie was the loser. From that point on, Jazz ruled the castle.

Kittens are so much fun and we all had a ball together. Jazz became the most affectionate cat a person could dream of. Sleeping on my pillow, in my hair each night. We had discussion about "my pillow, your pillow" at least twice a week. When she was about a year old she began to climb up on my chest and bury her head in my hair. She purred so loudly and bit my chin with little love bites. In the early morning when we were just waking up she would hold out her paw and place it on my pillow and we would hold hands. It was extremely special and amazing.

In 2000 the girls and I moved to the West coast. It was a difficult yet amiable split. I do remember the line, you got the cats, I got the cat hair.

In 2002 I married Kevin. Kevin adopted "the girls" as we fondly called them. We went about our lives dealing with lots of travel for work, cat sitters, and an occasional vet visit.

In 2005 we had our first child, Mira. When we brought Peanut home the girls were pretty freaked out. We worried, as all expectant parents do how the cats would adjust to having a baby in the house. Boodie accepted, Jazz never really did. She was never a lover of other people but especially not kids.

Jazz kept her distance from Mira and did her "Jazz thing" for the most part. Some of her favorite things to do were jumping on the bed and keeping me from making it, chasing the air pockets under the sheets, meowing downstairs for several minutes when we came up for bed as if she were lost. Then came zooming up the stairs and jumped on the bed, scaring us to death. She loved sleeping on our bed all day and sun, sun, sun. If there was a sunny spot in the house Jazz would find it. She loved to sit in the window and watch birds and "bark" at them. It was nutty. It was her. Everywhere we were, Jazz was. When Boodie was sleeping in a closet, Jazz was right with us. On the couch, in the office, in the kitchen begging for treats.

This cat was a gift to me. To us. She loved love. When we would put the kids in bed for naps and sit down on the sofa to watch a little TV she would zoom down the stairs to be with us. Free of little ones. She wanted to be with us, on us all the time. She was everything you dream about having in a pet and more. She was affectionate, sweet, funny yet fiercely independent. As all cats are.

One night many years ago she developed a love for plastic grocery bags. Bad move. She liked them so much that she would rub her face on them. Well during one of the face rubbing time she accidentally got the handle around her neck. Uh oh. She got so scared that the bag was chasing her that she took off like a demon through the house. She ran so fast I could not catch her. It was coo coo. She finally got herself under the bed and stopped long enough for me to "free her" from the bag. And of course you would think this would have deterred her from the plastic bag. Oh no, it happened at least 1 or 2 other times in her life. She was a nut.

Jazz loved water too. She loved to drink out of the faucet in the sink, the tub, you name it. While I was showering she waited for me on my sink. "Meatloafing" as we called it.

She talked incessantly. At one point we read about a breed of cat called an Absynnian that talked all the time and had larger ears. We felt she was a Tabby/Absynnian mix. I still believe this. Most cats do not talk as much as she did.

Anyway, in 2008 we had our second child, Julian. When we brought Jules home Kevin did a great impression of Jazz that was So spot on. "Oh no you di'int bring another one of THOSE into this house!!" Too funny.

Jazz had been diagnosed with asthma after having some coughing attacks in early 2008 and was on inhalers that year. In early 2009 we had a lung asprit test done to rule out cancer. Well, it ruled it in. She was given 6 months. We saw an Oncologist and decided against surgery after discussing it with my brother who is a brilliant physician. We all decided that Jazz would never have bounced back from the risky surgery and that she would have never been the same cat. So we continued with the inhalers (Flovent and later added Albuterol). Later we also added a steroid shot one a week that we administered at home. Well, Kevin did. She took all of her meds with grace and dignity. She didn't know she was sick and was doing great.

In around April or May of 2010 Jazz had some weird things going on with her eyes. She had a virus in one eye that caused her pupil to become a D shape. Two days later she lost her sight in the right eye. We took her to an animal Ophthalmologist a few times for check ups but they could not determine was caused the blindness. One day they were finally able to see that it was retinal degeneration indirectly related to the cancer. There was nothing they could do for her. She stayed under the bed and then bounced back. She was amazing.

Jazz was losing weight and slowing down in late June and into July of 2010. She spent most of her days on the sofa sleeping. Although she certainly enjoyed her treat and snuggle time with me and with Kevin. She stopped sleeping on the bed and eventually coming up the stairs was too much for her. She was a tiny shell of the girl she once was.

We had been talking about euthanasia and when we would know it was time. She did not seem to be in pain and was still enjoying the sun spots around the house when she did take a break from the sofa. We knew it was only a matter of time.

On the morning of July 24th of 2010, a Saturday Kevin went downstairs like he always does to make his coffee and found her. She had passed overnight and was in the kitchen. She was near the pantry where we kept her treats laying on her side with her paws crossed. I will never know why she was there and not on the sofa.

The Dr. says she seemed to have gone quickly and did not suffer. It was most likely her heart. She was tired, weak and plain done. I don't blame her one bit. I simply miss my Jazz. I miss everything about her and my heart has a gaping hole in it. The house is empty. Sun spots go unused and the sofa will never be the same without her cuddling with us at night.

Yes she lived nearly 14 years. With cancer to boot. The vet's office said once that she "amazed and astounded" us. She sure did. Living past her initial prognosis by 13 months.

Jazz's ashes will be scattered in our backyard. Although an indoor cat, she longed to play outside. She will be so happy there. I am also creating a memorial in our garden with stepping stones using broken china and a wind chime.

So here's to you Monkey. Thank you so very much for all the unconditional love, kisses and smiles. I'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

~Mommy

The latest

So once again I feel terrible for not writing in so long. Bad mommy. I will try to capture a bunch of the things that have transpired over the last year or so.

First of all Julian is the most delicious baby a mommy could ask for. Edible as aunt Kate says. He has grown into an amazing toddler. Almost walking now. The last year has flown by. I went back to work in February after 6 months off. The time at home was amazing. I was ready to go back. Jules has adapted to Ranka's of course with little transition time. He loves it there and loves all of his girlfriends. (Ranka, Tanya and Biljena)

He's never met a food he does not like and has 6 teeth now. Too funny.

Mira started in the pre-k class this year. She is being challenged and doing "real" school work that she brings home daily. She loves her baby brother and continues to be kind, nurturing, compassionate and sensitive. We can't believe how big she has gotten over the last year. 40 inches now. Still mall but big to us! I swear some days she looks 7.

Working full time and raising 2 kids is HARD. Thank goodness for an amazing husband. Who by the way is also doing great. Who could ask for more?

Oh BTW, Jules is now saying uh oh. He spent a bunch of time the other day perfecting it in the back of the car. Uh...uuuu...uh...uuuu...hee hee.

Over the summer we hung out with friends and visited family in Philadelphia in July. We got to go to Sesame Place which was a hoot for all. We also got to spend time with a very old friend of mine from elementary school. That was terrific. A number of people have also come to CA to visit us! Cousins Adina, Miles and Rivka Sara; Aunt Janice and Uncle Paul, Aunt Jeannie and the Applebaums. That was so fun.

So, here are some pics. If you are reading this and are not yet on Face Book, please get on it. It's wonderful to stay connected to everyone.

Cheers! Speak to you in a year or so. LOL.

The Sleep Story

So as all parents do, I am still struggling with Julian not sleeping through the night. Not only NOT sleeping through the night but not even more than 3 hours in a row most nights. After nearly 6 months of this sleep deprivation I am ready for a rubber room as my mom would say. As my return to work date quickly approaches, I am starting to panic. How can I function in the professional world with only sleeping in 2-3 hour increments? Will I fall asleep at my desk? Ugh.

Since we are not at all fans of letting our children "cry it out" I continue to go into Julian's room up to 6 times a night, nurse for 10 minutes and then head back to bed. Night after night after night. Month after month after month. The very thought of allowing him to cry alone in his bed for who knows how long is too painful.

So what is a mom to do? Something's gotta give as they say. We are out of energy, patience and stamina.

One thing that I did the other night when he was up every hour on the hour was this. I held his tiny warm hand in mine and thought about how quickly this time will be over in the grand scheme of my life. How one day I will struggle to remember how tired I was. How I will miss that tiny hand and the phase that went with it. How I am so very grateful to even have a second healthy, beautiful child. How if my baby needs me, I will go to him unconditionally until he is able to reason and understand explanations for things. How amazingly compassionate, nurturing and sensitive Peanut is and how our parenting style and choices made her that way.

These are the things I think about in the middle of the night, while it's just the two of us in the dark room. A dear friend of mine says that you have to listen to your "mommy gut". As hard as it is and will be, I am truly listening to mine. I know that our beautiful son will be a better person for it. I know I already am.

The Love Muffin

Hi everybody! So we have been really trying to come up with a nick name for Julian as we have for Peanut. Since 3 months is really the turning point with regard to a baby becoming more social, laughing more and smiling a lot, Julian has proved to be a total love. He is snugly and loves to laugh and smile. So, Love Muffin it is. Or just Muffin.

Life with 2 peanuts has been interesting, fun and of course challenging over the last almost 4, yes 4 months! We can't believe our little babe turns 4 months old on Thanksgiving. Mira loves her little bro and we could not be more proud of how she interacts with him. She can't wait to be able to play with him.

Julian is keeping me hopping at night still unfortunately. And he was supposed to me our GOOD sleeper!! HA!! He was going 4-5 hr. stretches initially but now is doing abut 3. It could be due to his new found skill of rolling over as milestones like these cause bumps in sleep patterns. Let's hope it is short lived!

To all those moms who fear they will not have enough love in their hearts for more than one baby, fear no more. I too was concerned about this. Everyone was right. You love each child individually and uniquely. We Do have plenty of love to go around.

Being a mom to 2 kids still seems surreal to me. Just saying "my kids" is weird. Yet amazing. Each baby is so different too. Mannerisms, sounds, habits, etc. It's so much fun to get to know Julian during this time at home. I treasure nearly every second. (Other than the ones I spend walking back and forth to and from his room all night long!) I feel very lucky to have this time with him. Mira and I were home together for only 3 1/2 months and it was just getting really fun.

Mira is loving preschool and thriving as we knew she would. She is smart, compassionate, nurturing and sensitive. She is clearly teacher's pet as well. During Open House Night the teachers could not say enough positive things about her. We beamed from ear to ear.

So, at this time of Thanksgiving I pause to consider all of our blessings. Two beautiful children, an amazing husband who is a true partner in every facet of parenting and our wonderful life together.

Cheers to all mommies and daddies who make it work, work together and have spectacular kids to show for it. All of our hard work does pay off.