Random emotions

 

 

I just had a good cry.... all alone.... in a random playground... while out training.  Lucky for me, no one walked by and saw me or I might have been committed.

I've been really extremely emotional this week. 

I am so humbled by how much support people are giving me, with their financial contributions and  with their kind words.

I am anxious about leaving my boys all weekend, although I know that Daddy is more than capable.

I am scared that I won't be able to walk as far as I plan, even though I have been training for seven months.

I am worried about sleeping in a tent in what looks like will be a very cold weekend.

I am mostly nervous about leaving Goofball, who was in hysterics when I broke the news that I am leaving him all weekend.  He knew that "Mommy's big walk" was coming soon, but as the details unfold about packing, train tickets and sleeping bags, it's becoming too real for him that Mommy isn't putting him to bed for 2 nights.

I convinced my husband to bring Goofball to see me cross the finish line.  I want him to know that this is big... really big.  It's more than me.  Right now in his mind, this is about Mommy getting exercise.  And it is, but it's so much more. 

As I put the names of those touched by breast cancer on my shirt, it crosses my mind that this is too many: Four aunts, two cousins, a friend.... My mom.  I remember exactly where I was when I heard my mom say the words, "I have breast cancer."  I fear for my future, and I pray that I never say those words myself.

I try to explain to Goofball that this isn't just about me.  It's about his Grandmas, his aunts, his cousins, his friends... It's about sisterhood, teamwork, following your dreams, cooperation, camaraderie, and coming together for a cause.

I am writing the names on my shirt, and there are too many names.  I write "Penny" but this time I add a halo and wings.  We can't lose one more, and that's why I fight.  Breast cancer may take our breasts, but it won't take our souls.

And so I will think about Goofball and Mush while I walk, and I will smile, because I refuse to accept that I won't get to see diplomas, wedding rings and grandchildren.

And I will think about my future daughters-in-law, and smile, and pray that they never know of breast cancer.

And I will think about my cousins and friends, and I will smile, and pray that they never know of breast cancer.

And I will think about my three nieces, and I will smile, because in their little world of dance lessons, arts and crafts and Minnie Mouse, there is no breast cancer.

 

 

 

To donate:

 

http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/NewYork?px=1324249&pg=personal&fr_id=2406



 

My mom's new iphone

It's 3AM and I am wide awake.  The 3 year old is laying next to me.  He is burning up.  I have given him some tylenol, a drink of water, and some extra cuddles.  I am wide awake and a million thoughts are going through my head.  It's the life of a mom.

Earlier today I was with my own mom.  She came with pizza, a knitting project and a new iphone.  I joked that hell had frozen over as I took a selfie with her and showed her how to post it to her facebook page, adding a little emoji and tagging me in the photo.  My mom... who is still learning to turn on the VCR now has an iphone.  She has always been about ten years behind the technology.  I remember that my house growing up was the only house that had an 8 track player when every other house had a record player.  We still had a corded phone when everyone else's phone was cordless - talk about trying to have a private conversation when you are stuck to a wall!  I love my mom dearly - God bless her - she is always behind the times... except when it comes to health.

 

 

For over 40 years my mom was a registered nurse, taking care of others.  When it came to her own health, she was diligent, which is why her breast cancer was detected so early... because of modern technology like mammograms and sonograms.  Isn't it ironic that the technology that my mother takes so long to embrace is the same technology that has saved her life?  Not all of the other mothers in the world are so lucky.  Not all the daughters in the world are writing about their moms in present tense. 

In honor of my mom, I have made a pledge to walk 2 days, and to raise $1800 for breast cancer research.  I can't do that alone, and I ask you for your support.  All it takes is the click of a button on your iphone. 

To Donate: http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/NewYork?px=1324249&pg=personal&fr_id=2406

Happy 3rd Birthday Mush: A look back

The crib has been converted to a toddler bed.  The stroller rarely sees its way out of the trunk anymore, and with every box of diapers I purchase, I wonder if it will be the last.

I think back to that hectic morning at 32 weeks and it still seems like a crazy blur.  Rushed into an emergency c-section, the words “VBAC” were replaced with “prepping the O.R.” and “have to get this baby out.”   There’s no talk of contractions.  Instead there’s “platelets dropping,” “liver failing,” “have to knock you out” and “won’t be awake…”

I remember being too drugged to hold him, too tired to open my eyes and look into his.  It wasn’t until the next day that I got to snuggle this fragile, teeny 4 pound 1 ounce nugget, holding him awkwardly so as not to pull out his feeding tube or disrupt the wires that were keeping him monitored.  He was the tiniest baby I ever held, the same size as the baby doll I picked out to give to Goofball when he became a big brother, which was still sitting in my closet waiting to be wrapped.  My eyes were still blurry, not from any drugs but from my body shutting down.

Five days later they send me home and now I am expected to be a mom to two, driving well before I was supposed to or ready to, back and forth to the NICU, preschool, preschool, NICU.  Pumping in between.  CPAP, incubator, bilirubin, jaundice, IV, feeding tube, cc’s, car seat test.

Seventeen long days later we are together.  They told me he is too weak to latch, so my life revolves around lactation consultants, pumping, latching, supplementing with formula, weight checks, weak suck, pumping, not gaining, supplementing with pumped milk, pumping, cleaning pump parts, failure to thrive, pumping, support groups, little tubes taped to my breasts, more lactation consultants, more pumping, reflux, gastroenterologist visits, medications…. Was I even there to watch my preschooler grow?

At 6 months old, he looks like a newborn.  At 9 months old he’s barely rolling over, and at 12 months old he’s hardly sitting up.  And then there’s evaluations, physical therapists, low tone, psychologists, core strengthening, early intervention, special ed teachers, IFSP meetings, coordinators, occupational therapists….

First year of life and we have a random seizure, freak high fevers, infectious disease consults, neurologist visit and an EEG.

This sweet little face certainly makes me work for my Mommy money, and on top of that he never sleeps (at least at night.)

Yet amongst the chaos of that first year, we had first giggles, sucking thumbs, stroller walks, spitting up all over when trying to play “Superbaby,” sticking his tounge out at big brother, baby sign language classes, stinky baby feet, happy squeals, babywearing, infant massage, singing “You are my sunshine” over and over and over, silly photo shoots, clapping hands, Mommy and Me, cake smash, slamming feet on the floor, wondering if his eyes will stay blue, sleeping in the baby swing, kisses, kisses and more kisses.

I just hung up a Happy Birthday banner for my little baby, although he doesn’t resemble much of a baby anymore. 

And instead of celebrating milestones such as finally making his way onto the growth chart, we’re putting on backpacks and heading off to preschool.

And instead of worrying that he’ll never walk, I worry that he’ll run into traffic.

It’s all changing, but it’s all good.  

Happy 3^rd birthday, little Mush.  You were worth every gray hair and I love you more than you will ever know.

A Letter to Goofball's Kindergarten Teacher

 

   I think it's very important for people to make it known when they appreciate and adore someone.  Being a teacher myself, I don't think people say it enough.  So far we have been blessed with awesome people in Goofball's life.  This is a letter that I wrote for his kindergarten teacher at the end of the school year.

 

Dear Mrs. S,

               I sent my baby off to you in September - my baby who is imaginative, compassionate, funny, creative, charming and silly. I realize that he is also whiny, highly emotional and stubborn, but you embraced him, all of him, as that is your job.

               I thought that having taught kindergarten myself, I would have been hard to win over, but you made it easy for my son to fall in love with you, and even easier for me to.  You kept the lines of communication way open, answering calls the same day, and responding to notes that didn't even necessitate a response.  You set the bar high, and now all of his future teachers will be compared to you.

               When my son was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check, you didn't dismiss him as being difficult.  Rather, you set him up to succeed, setting up a program for him, pulling in additional resources and encouraging him along the way.

               I remember once, a few months back, I was hanging around a bounce house with all of the other birthday party parents, and another mother and I were chit-chatting about the one thing we all had in common: our child's kindergarten class.  I commented that even in a very large class, I felt like you really truly knew my child: his strengths, his weaknesses, and you knew exactly what tools he needed to be successful.  She sat across from me, nodding in agreement, commenting, "That is exactly how I feel."  I know that if I felt this way, and she felt this way, that all the other parents must be feeling the same way as well.

               I cannot thank you enough for this amazing gift you have given my son.  I sent you a baby and you gave me a confident and mature little boy.

               I am not good with good-byes, so I will just say this:  I only hope that in three years, as I am sending my little one on the bus for the first time, that when I zip up his Spiderman backpack filled with marble notebooks and glue sticks, I'll be putting on a little nametag with your name on it.

                                                      Love Always,

                                                     Heather (and family)

Goofball-isms

Happy Birthday to my Goofball Goose!  Here's some of his wittiest highlights from the past few years!

Age 2 and a half:

The morning after the first night of Chanukah, he was saying good-bye to Daddy.  He said, "Come home soon - open Chanukah presents!"

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One day I was putting papers in the shredder and he inquired about what I was doing.  I explained what  a shredder is and he giggled, saying "Paper goes poopy!"

Age 3:

"I eat vifafin!  (vitamin)  I big and strong!"

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Once he saw Mommy reach for a tissue and asked, "Mommy, do you have an achoo?"

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When leaving for the day I asked Goofball to put his toy away.  He said, "Bye toy!  I'll call you back!"

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"One day I went to the dentist.  He checked my tushie and my knee."

Age 3 and a half:

"I like orange juice.  It tastes really yellow!"

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"I don't live on a farm.  I live on Earth."

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"Robots do not have tushies."

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"When is my birthday?"  "Right after the baby comes."  "Can the baby come today?"

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We were driving home looking at the Christmas lights one day.  We passed the stationary train for the town of Brookhaven which was all lit up.  He said, "Mommy - that train celebrates Christmas!  How silly!"

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"Mommy what was your favorite part of the show?"  "I liked the dancers in their pretty costumes and tutus."  "Toot toots?  That's not a show!  That's what you make when you go poops in the potty!"

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"Mommy, is God a spaceman?"

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"Let's play airport!  I'll be the pilot.  You be the luggage!"

Age 4:

"I love you more than all the famous animals in the world!  Is that the sweetest thing you ever heard, Mommy?"

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"I want water."
"Can you use the magic word?"
"Abracadabra.  I want water."

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After clipping his nails, Goofball asked, "Do you like my hand haircut?"

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"Who was the big brother when I was a baby?"

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"Cheesecake is not a real food.  It does not exist.... unless you are a mouse."

Age 5:

"God is everywhere.  When you die, you live with God.  Dinosaurs dies.  Dinosaurs live with God.  Dinosaurs are everywhere."

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"I understand why you killed that spider.  You didn't want him to bite you and turn you into Spiderman."

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"Mommy - Baby was crying, so I sang a song to him and he stopped!"

"That was really nice of you!"

"I know.  He has a great big brother!"

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I took Goofball to the doctor and told him he'd have to pee in a cup.  He asked, "Doesn't the doctor have a toilet?"

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Goofball got a new magazine in the mail.  He hugged it and said, "I can't wait to read this in the bathroom!"

Age 6:

"I am like a Jedi - When I get angry, I go in the other room and calm down.  My baby brother is like a Sith.  He just hits Mommy when he gets mad."

"When I sing Jewish songs, I feel like I am praying to God."

Age 7:
"I hear crickets cricking.  I hear bugs singing.  At nighttime, the bugs have a music class."

Age 8:
"I put my middle finger up, and I think I cursed myself!"

"I would be really humiliated if I had to go to the bathroom on an airplane" (We were discussing our trip to the Cradle of Aviation museum - there was an airplane bathroom with a plexiglass partition to keep people out.  G thought that there was a see-through door.)

Age 9:
"Here - try this pickle."
"It's like the pickle has angel wings.... and it flies to the moon in a pickle rocket and puts a pickle flag on the moon..."

"People who eat vegetables are vegetarian.  Not me.  I'm a pizzaterian."

Age 12:
"Check out my abs.  I don't have a 6 pack, but I think I have a 1 pack!"

First Day Jitters

I took the tags off the backpack and sharpened every pencil.  The new Spiderman lunch box is in the refrigerator ready to go.   The clothes are all laid out in a neat pile – beige shorts, horse shirt, Angry Birds underwear, white socks.  The folder is labeled with your name and inside is an envelope for your teacher with all sorts of papers:  medical form, bus note, dismissal card…

I have experienced the first day before and I know how exciting it is:  We call it fall but the summer sun is still shining bright.  The markers all have that sharp point, far from being dulled or dried out.  Everyone has fresh haircuts, new clothes, sneakers that have yet to be scuffed, and notebooks that have not yet been written in.

And even though I have experienced first days before, I have never experienced it quite like this.  I have seen hundreds of anxious children entering the school, but I have never put an anxious child on the bus and held back the tears.

You are so excited, and I am excited for you.

You are so proud of yourself, and I am so proud of you.

You are a little nervous, and I am nervous for you.

If you don’t know where to go, ask a grown up who works at the school.

If you have to use the bathroom, don’t wait till the last minute.

If your teacher interrupts your extremely long story, don’t give her the “super angry” face.

Remember when you were pretending to fart on your brother’s head?  Yeah…..Don’t do that at school. 

But most importantly…just be kind.

Just be kind, even when the other kids are being jerks.

Just be kind, and you will attract kind people.

If another child looks left out, just be kind and join him.

Just be kind.

Remember when we took a walk last week and you stopped to fix the neighbors garbage pails that fell down in the wind…..that’s the kind of kind.

Remember when you asked me if you could share your snack with the little girl at the park….that’s the kind of kind.

Remember when your brother was crying today, so you handed him his favorite book and kissed him on the head…..that’s the kind of kind.

I wish I could stop the clock, but as my hairs are starting to turn gray, you are off and running on to new adventures every day, so I just have to follow and hope to keep up. 

But even on days when you give me the “super angry” face, I will still have a lump in my throat at the idea of sending you off on the big yellow bus, because no matter what, Mommy loves you.

A Letter to my Son's Pre-K Teachers

Dear Teachers,

How do I possibly put into words all of what I am feeling right now?  My sweet, creative, dramatic, inquisitive little boy has reached such an important milestone, and he is there because of you.

Every morning he wakes up before the sun and excitedly asks, "What are we doing today?" Five days a week he is picking out his clothes before I have even opened my eyes.  He is brushing his teeth before I have even had my coffee.  And I know you have seen him on a dialy basis dart into your classroom while I am still working my way though the parking lot.

My son loves school...and it's because of you.

He loves to share everything he knows - with everyone - including the mailman.

He loves to light the candles, say the prayers, and observe Shabbat.  We can't start until everyone is sitting.

He loves to go to the library and research what he has learned at school. We have taken out the same insect book about eight times.

He loves to sing the songs he has learned in class.  The donut hole song cracks us up each and every time.

He loves to dress up and pretend.  One day he is an astronaut.  The next day he is a police officer.  Occasionally he is a police officer who is wearing a jet pack.

He loves to name his toys after his classmates and teachers.  He uses his action figures to act out situations.  Miss Lois is Iron Man and Miss Pam is Spiderman.

He loves to write his name and gets frustrated when it isn't perfect.  Every day at dismissal he opens his backpack to eagerly show me his latest piece of artwork.

He loves to be independant.  He can do so much more than I give him credit for, and I appreciate your gentle reminders to let him soar when I am holding him back.

Just last week at graduation, I was working very hard to hold back the tears.  Even now, as I sit here writing this, I look across the room at him.  He's sitting at the computer playing a game, giggling at something on the screen, without a care in the world, and once again I fight back the tears.

I am so proud of all that he has accomplished this year.  He's worked so hard.  He has been declassified and no longer needs services.  He has gained confidence, can control himself better and works well in a group.  He has become a compassionate big brother and a compassionate friend to others.

All of his accomplishments are because of you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I know that I can't keep him in a bubble, but I still dread sending him off on the big yellow bus to kindergarten. However, it's a little bit easier knowing that you have set such a strong foundation.

Everything he can do, everything he has done, and the little man that he has become...it's because of you.

Fondly,
Heather and Ethan