Spring Is In The Air

  The sounds of summer are upon us...even if the weather is yet to catch up.  Through the closed, pane glass window comes the whine of a vigilant neighbor's lawnmower going to town on the Spring grass.  I, personally, am thrilled at our progress in this department- we bought a new lawnmower. Yes, the tags are still on it while the grass continues to inch it's way skyward, but this purchase signals our intent.

  More often than not I hear bursts of children's laughter through that same window indicating the air is warming up enough to lure them away from electronic devices and beckoning them to tear up the grass and good ol' fashioned dirt.  Maybe those tags can stay on the mower a bit longer...

  I've been treated to the long-awaited chorus of peepers over the last few weeks- though it's now a bit of a drive to hear them.  Not like in the past when we lived on 17 mostly wooded acres where every night was a full on symphony.  Peepers can always lift my spirit in a nod to my childhood, when dirt wasn't old fashioned- just fun.  Now, I'm sounding old as dirt...  In truth, that sound mixed with Spring's earthy scent breathes new life into my imagination.  Possibilities abound within this season.  Flowers are blooming while birds return in flocks.  Life seems to rebounding from laying dormant so long.

  I love that there are spectacular peculiarities within each season.  It's a reminder to embrace each one without wishing for the next.

Hmmm, this reminds me of a conversation with my sister about our children, on her son's 15th birthday.  We were marveling at how fast time has flown.  I shared a pearl of wisdom that was passed down to me years ago, during my angst over my oldest changing as he matured, "It is the parents that can not accept these changes that suffer the deepest empty nest depression.  Learn to embrace each season of life and you will be able to enjoy the change that comes. Then, it will be a natural progression to let go as children ready to leave the nest, rather than clinging so tightly to what once was."  I have found that tidbit to be a golden nugget.  

  When my children were all very young and close in age, I had to remind myself of the truth: it is possible to wish away the journey of life while rushing to the destination.  This was a challenge during the stage when I had three in diapers!  Or the time I opened my mini-van and realized all 5 back seats were fitted with car seats.  I've applied it to my my own progressing age- not getting hung up on what number of birthday I face.  I will only be this age once, might as well enjoy!  If this thought is lived out- there can be no regrets.

  Nature continues to guide and teach us about the intricacies of each numbered day...

 Enjoy each moment, with eyes wide open.  Live in the present and presents will be gifted.

The Sandwich Generation

  I've heard we are called the "Sandwich Generation."  Yes, those of us who have the honor, privilege, and hefty work load of caring for parents and children at the same time.

  It is an interesting place in life to exist.  The demands are tough yet the rewards are fulfilling.  To be able to care for your children and to care for those who cared for you while you were a child... it probably is poetic justice.  After all, you are being taught what sacrifices your parents made for you, in real time, as you make
those sacrifices for your own youngsters.

  My husband and I have discussed this very concept in our 5 minute meetings that are placed sporadically through the afternoon and evening.  We exchange thoughts on this topic in passing between running our kids to practice or heading to his parents house or the hospital to ensure they are fed and cared for.  We tend to pick up the conversation as we regroup during dinner prep or most likely dishes clean-up for our own children.  If I'm honest, lately it's been after the kids are tucked in bed that we have an opportunity to catch up on each other's day.  I pray, for his parents sake, that the in-depth care they currently require is temporary and once his mother has healed from her emergency surgery she will be able to do much more for herself.  She has always been so independent- she's like a different woman without her Polish, feistiness in full force.

  I don't know if it's the tone in the house that caused my youngest daughter, who is 6 years-old to look me in the eyes and tell me when she's grown up she will take care of Mommy and Daddy.  I don't quite know how I feel about that.  I suppose my response is a murky mixture of gratitude for a love so great, swirled with resistance to hinder her freedom, along with a hint of dreaded foreboding that we might actually need our children's care one day.

  Yes, the Sandwich Generation has a lot on their plate alongside a healthy dose of much to ponder about the past, present, and future.

Update

One funny side effect of going to school while my children do is the shared experience itself.  I no longer casually say, "I know you don't want to roll out of bed, get your rear in gear anyway!"  I now grumble along side them while we elbow each other in our fight for bathroom mirror prep time.  We're all in this together.

  Funny how diving into a shared experience can give a more insight into moments I used to pass judgment on.  Of course it makes sense- I'm living through similar experiences they face day in and day out.  I no longer chide about the dragging feet and forlorn faces on Monday mornings- I sympathize.  Yet, I am not as understanding about bad grades as I once was- I've been reminded of the need for hard work and I want to help my kids create great habits involving preparation and accomplishment.  If I can do it- they certainly can too.  My mantra of, "Turn OFF that stinkin' TV!," is heard more regularly now that I know what they are putting off in stall tactics.

  Over time, I will be curious to see what their memories of the time "Mom went back to school" bring about.  And there are days that I wonder if I will remember much of what currently feels like a foggy blur as I try to fit it all in and get it done.  My husband's parents have had recent serious health issues.  This has been effective in reminding me to: breathe, slow down, and remember what's important.  In the midst of the schedules, homework, and chaos I'm forced to face my own limitations and concede that when giving it your all- let my best be good enough.  If I am to succeed at this thing called school- then I must remember that the best education is within the school of LIFE.  At this stage in my life, the process of receiving a formal education must somehow blend with my, my husbands, and my children's lives- and not take center stage.  It is very sweet to witness how they do champion my efforts and pull together to allow me time to work.  It makes our play time that much more cherished.

So far, so good...albeit hectic and without much down time.  I know this too shall pass and soon it will be time to graduate- for my children and for me.  I've never been one to wish time or seasons of life away or to cling to certain ages.  I've sincerely tried to embrace each moment as it's lived, knowing it will only come my way once.  I think this is true for this unique time in my (though it's actually "our," since lives are entwined) life as well.

  Even with the end of the term nearing and finals breathing down my neck, I was blessed this afternoon to be able to visit my mother-in-law in the hospital, visit my oldest at his work, take a quick snuggly nap with my youngest, attend a son's lacrosse game, take two other sons shopping, treat one daughter to a big bag of m&m's for cleaning the house, and look through my jewelry with my oldest daughter for her formal dance tomorrow night.  I did get to give my husband a hug and kiss on the sideline at the game and I look forward to catching up on his day when he comes home from caring for his father.

  Life continues on while increasing in speed.  I find it a comfort to see my University's motto etched into the face of many a cornerstone around campus, reminding me: Carpe Diem!

Easter People

  Did you know there are 40 days in Lent but 50 days of Easter?  Alleluia- the time for somber reflection and sacrifice gives way to the JOY of the Resurrection!  During the Easter Vigil our Pastor, Fr. Larry Richards, reminded us of the importance of being a Resurrection people.  Though we will go through trials and sacrifice- that's not where our minds are to rest.  We are loved- that's what Easter is all about.

  On Good Friday, I was struggling with my son having a scheduled game, when I wanted him at the service with me.  I'm well aware there will be thoughts on both sides of this struggle.  I'll just say that a quick comment, "let go of the guilt!," from a supportive friend, was a balm that primed my heart for the message delivered during the Easter Vigil, "Live like you are loved!"  We were even encouraged to keep a log for 50 days revealing how we are loved: (i.e. Day 1: Today God showed His love for me by....)


  It's true that it's easy to have a self focus.  Easier yet, to let that focus fall on all we are doing wrong.  What if...it's not about us?  A novel idea, I know.  What a freeing, beautiful thought- that we are loved simply for being us...not for what we do.  Time to rest in the glory of His Love for us- and to turn to those around us and shower that love on them...just because they exist.
  
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) NAB

Pass it on <3

Confirmation

Stevie and his sponsor, Aunt Teresa

“This is not a graduation,” the Bishop said to the congregation of Confirmation students and their family and friends, “but rather a beginning.”  Bishop Lawrence Persico was referring to the role of the Sacrament of Confirmation in the lives of these students, most of whom are Juniors in high school. 

  The typical method of religious education within Catholic American parishes is to gather weekly for an hour or two to discuss Faith and the teachings of the Church which have been inspired by the Holy Spirit and passed down from centuries of tradition.  The original educators learned from Jesus, Himself, and used word of mouth and writing to share matters of faith that ultimately changed the trajectory of their own lives and the world itself. 

All in God's time

  I was in eighth grade when I received this Sacrament which brings the fullness of the Holy Spirit’s power.  What’s interesting, is that power is not always fully expressed at that very moment of reception.  This is what the Bishop was referring to when he spoke to the assembled group which included my son, Stephen Jr., telling them this moment was just the beginning.  After all, the Apostle Paul is the rare person who was knocked off his horse by a flash of Light, and was instantaneously converted.  Most of us are invited to faith by the planting of seeds that will sprout over time.  Different people drop seeds of inspired words, thoughts, ideas, and encouragement over the years of our formation.  We are learning, growing, and cultivating these seeds over our lifetime.  

  So, even as some of these students may be internally celebrating with thoughts of “Yes!, No more religious ed. classes!”  It’s time for us as parents to rely on what has actually taken place. They did in fact receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and He can guide them on this journey more perfectly than our human efforts.  While it can be scary to let them grow and make decisions, this moment brought comfort.  The second of our seven children to reach this milestone.  As a parent- I am still sprouting, called to a new phase in my faith: learning to trust that God's call and timing are perfect.

Bishop Persico, Fr. Larry Richards and the St. Joseph's Bread of Life Confirmation Class of 2017

              Congratulations Stevie and all the newly Confirmed, on this new phase in YOUR life!

Quotes That Inspire

Both of these quotes are from a favorite of mine: Henry David Thoreau. 

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” ~HDT

 

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”  ~HDT

  Both sentiments resonate with me.  I feel it is important to bear the first in mind while pursuing the second.

 

  May you, dear reader, always find inspiration in quotes that resonate within you and propel you in the direction of YOUR dreams!

 If you'd like, please feel free to share a favorite quote of yours in the comment section below or at Harborlily Creative on Facebook - Thank you!

 

Run vs. Running

  Run vs. running...this is the dilemma of many parents.

  But Susan, you may be thinking, how many types of running are there?  Oh ho...now that is a question from a novice to life with children.


Of course I would like to RUN (though truth be told I'm more like a snail even when I speed walk) and yet I find myself RUNNING my busy tribe of teens (4 in the house now), and younger children to lacrosse practice- 4 of these players in the house now as well, friends houses, the Mall, and wherever else as the need arises.  This in addition to mobilizing our large crew en masse to and from Mass, family get togethers, school concerts, etc.  Truth is, we use two different vehicles to mobilize us when we all need to go somewhere together.  Steve, my husband, drives an F-150 truck that seats 6 and I currently drive a Ford 500 that fits 5.  Together we can even fit a few friends, which is often the case.

  It seems the last couple weeks have been full of commuting since Steve's parents fell ill and needed hospital care (prayers appreciated) and my Mom had her second knee replacement which created the opposite effect and immobilized her for several weeks.  Other excitement took us to the hospital for the birth of a new nephew: "Welcome Maverick!" and of course there's the day to day driving to and from school.

I've noticed a road weary expression on my husband's face as he removes his jacket after a long day at work followed by "running" the kids to practice and meeting the needs of his parents.  He never says it but I see something ever so slight cross his face when a call is received from his parents, Bushia and Dzia Dzia, which means Grandma and Grandpa in Polish.  These calls often require him to don his jacket and grab his keys- I think that "something" is a remembrance of all the running they did back in the day.  He and his three brothers all played baseball, sometimes on different fields, while their Dad coached.

  I hope my children pick up on that subtle acceptance from their father.  If my life is an indicator of how fast time moves, then the days of running will soon be upon them.  As a matter of fact, right now as I write this, Steve is currently wearing his chauffeur's cap as he drives our 16 year-old to his driver's exam.  God bless my husband- he even took a half days' work to be able to do this running...and when that's done we have to head to Buffalo for a lacrosse game.


Whew! Which do you find more exhausting...Run or Running?

Unfettered Spring

This morning I felt the rain come drizzling down while simultaneously, a robin chirped for my attention. 

 I carried an umbrella but did not put it up due to the spontaneous whisps of warm air that lifted my misty hair. 

It was as if the weather were competing for my attention.

Spring seems to be an unfettered array of sights, scents, sounds, and temperatures that have lay in wait so long through the winter they can not help their jealous cry for attention.

Going Green

  Perhaps it's been a while since I've shared a story about my inventive, caring...walking a bit on the wild side, 6 year-old daughter, Evie. 

  This girl makes me laugh and typically melts my heart when she isn't making me gasp or brush the cold trickle of sweat away before it runs all the way down my neck as soon as she opens her mouth.  I've heard her described as "a favorite!"  I've been told she has no filter.  I've also received a note home from her teacher, informing me of the method she allows in the classroom for Evie to stand up and work when she just needs to dance and wiggle.  I LOVE Mrs. Green and her approach! 

    In this blog post I want to honor my daughter's free spirit and delight in her exceptionally creative mind with these 2 brief Highlights:

Millie

No pinches!

Last Friday was St. Patrick's Day and I was in a rush to get to school.  All the kids except Evie had left the house.  I was trying to prod her into slinging on her back pack when she voiced her concern.  "But Mom, Millie isn't wearing any green!  What if she gets pinched?"   I looked over at our 3 year-old
chocolate lab and mused about the tradition of getting pinched if you don't wear green on St. Patty's Day.  "Well, hon, if you look close enough you can see green specks in her eyes."  It was a lame attempt I know, but I was in a hurry.  I grabbed my backpack and hers and turned around to see her holding on to Millie.  "C'mon Evie," I called to her, "she'll be alright."  She hurried out the door while explaining, "Millie will be alright cuz I tucked a big green leaf in her collar, now no one will pinch her!"  Now why didn't I think of that?

I really don't need to be wordy for this next pictured moment...

I'll just tell you I was laying in Evie's bed while tucking her in on St. Patrick's Day night and looked over to see this about 3 feet from my face...


This girl takes her holidays seriously.  If you look closely you can see the sparkle of glitter lip gloss...much to my husbands horror and my hilarity.  The "lucky" deer mount was just sitting in the closet across the hallway.  I guess Evie decided to rescue it and make it more festive.  And that little white "dot" on the sparkly hat- that's a cut-out heart, made with love by Evie.

  There is brilliance and fantastic imagination that runs rampant in my little girl's mind.  I will love and celebrate her unique approach to life and thank God for gifting me with reminders to think outside the status quo and find joy in ideas I wouldn't have thought of on my own.
 

Happy First Day of Spring!

They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself.
                               ~Henry David Thoreau

Lessons Learned from Live Tweeting

  Last night I chose to undertake a school assignment I'd been putting off due to feeling intimidated: Live Tweeting.  Others may call this Live Blogging.  Either way- it was an interesting night- on many levels.  I could have chosen an on-campus event but decided to accompany my husband, a Code Enforcement Officer for the City of Erie, to a Neighborhood Revitalization meeting.

  This project opened my eyes up to:

 a) How difficult Live Tweeting can be- my Professor has likened it to "Drinking from a fire hose."  Live Tweeting is using the social media platform Twitter, which allows posts of 140 characters or less, to share an event in real time.   At times the information is coming fast and furious- and we get docked for misspelled words...but even worse is misinformation!  I appreciate his concern for good, accurate news.

b) The topic of the evening- Saving a section of our town that has fallen into blight.  This area of Buffalo Road is one I've traveled for most of my life.  I went to grade school a few miles up the road, not too far from the distressed neighborhood.  I often drive through it to visit my family and  

friends who live further east in Harborcreek.  Over the years it's disrepair has become increasingly evident.  It was a bit surreal to not just drive by, but rather pull into the community center and spend time with those who live and work in this area.  We are all part of the Erie Community- even though it can feel like we live in different worlds.

c) The discussion of getting neighbors involved and creating a communal vision.  The concerns and fears discussed in the room were valid- no one wants bullets entering their home and yet, the hope that was stirred in the room by a concerned group gathered to do more than just complain was inspirational.                

d) The sincere compassion of the hosts/presenters committed to helping this neighborhood come together to affect change was positively moving.  The meeting was far from boring because of the dynamic presentation of issues and clear guidance on taking the baby steps needed before running with the project could ensue.

e) The interaction of my husband, Steve, with these citizens, who rely on his hard work to help clean up their neighborhood, was eye-opening.  I witnessed the frustration he experiences in trying to help improve this neighborhood's quality of life face off with limitations that impede that goal.  The inability to locate abandoned property owners, absentee landlords, and untended vacant lots were just a few of the hot topics.  Steve's grace under pressure of heated questioning had me feeling so proud of his commitment, knowledge, and authentic desire to make a difference  That willingness to work WITH the community won their respect.  The bridge to team-work was strengthened when he offered his direct line in response to the question who they could send their complaints to.

f) Finally, the sobering realization that when the meeting was done and my computer tucked away it was time to say goodnight to the teens and elderly that were sweeping the community center and putting chairs away.  I was heading home where my children safely waited for me.  These meeting participants were heading to their homes that still held levels of uncertain danger.  My evening was about "covering an event" theirs was about changing their environment.  Change takes time...and involved people.  It is not an overnight process.

This morning I woke with the meeting heavy on my heart.  I pondered this list until I just had to write it out...for you.  Perhaps together we can spread the word and lend a hand to help a community- wherever you live.  Because I guarantee that even if you live in a beautiful, safe, clean, and caring environment- not too far from you are people- yes, human beings, your neighbors who live a different reality.  If the situation were reversed what would you hope they would do?

I'm going to share my assignment here if  you'd like to learn about the meeting or even see the end result of using Twitter (a social media platform that allows you to post using 140 or less characters) than sharing to Storify (a platform that can create a story out of a series of your sequential "Tweets."

Live Tweeting Assignment

 

Weathering The Weather

  Snow is back.  No big surprise here- at least it shouldn't be.  However, with 70 degree balmy air last week, this week's dip below freezing would be able to catch any Erie non-native off guard.  Having lived here a majority of my 45 years I've come to expect the unexpected in local weather trends.  In the Spring, it's a given that all bets are off.  Yes, trees will be budding and flowers do brave the unknown to push up through the frosty thawed earth to see what's going on.  Even they know better than to be shocked at the arctic welcome their trembling new greenery receives. 

  I believe our weather here in Erie, PA has shaped our community into a people that are able to weather the storms of life as well as the changing skies and air currents.  We tend to be a hearty group that faces what life has to offer and continues to push up through the hardened soil of tough times in the hope that springs eternal or the eternal hope of Spring.  If you've lived here your whole life or even made it through the fluctuating cycle of one season in our beloved town- you would understand why so many choose to stay.  It is not for this time of year- though our winters are particularly breathtaking in their stark, ice-covered wonderland appeal.  However, it is precisely this blast of daunting ice that sifts the weak from our lake's shores.  For those who batten down the hatches and keep their focus fixed on what is to come- the allure lies just under the frost in the beauty that waits to unfurl it's grandeur.  Yes, for these robust souls who've loyally bundled up and tethered themselves to our blustery hitching post- the reward lies in the unparalleled beauty of spring, summer, and fall in our fair northeastern town. 

  A word of encouragement to all you strong of heart and frosty of fingertip- Hold tight (in warm mittens) against these raging bitter gusts that tug at your resolve to endure.  Know in the depths of your heart that the finest greenery has been reserved for you.  The fragrant soil awaits the proper beckon of perfect timing when, called forth, it's scent shall fill your senses with gladness and reward your steadfast determination.  Our waters that appear frozen with ill intent shall thaw and come lapping at our shores with repentant calm to bring you solace and sounds of peace.  There will be the victory dance of sun risen colors that light the rooftop of every Erie citizen that has weathered this winter with courageous willpower.  Yes, dear community that I have come to bond with in the sopping entryways of shopping centers, ice-rink worthy parking lots, and warm mecca of movie theaters visited to break the monotony of cabin fevered chaos,  I salute you with a steam-breathed  "Almost there!," uttered through frozen lips and squinted, watery eyes.  I wish you warmth in the final affront of winter as we all set our face toward those days that make these wintry skirmishes worthwhile.

Giving Up for Lent

 Lent began last Wednesday.  My Spring Break began this past Monday (though technically it began after my very last class on Friday). 

  I watched as many students in class raised their hand in response to the teacher asking how many are going somewhere warm for break.  I admit- though I quickly pondered the thought of sunny beaches, I really wasn't all that jealous.  I relish the thought of making progress on a few house projects.

 One of my Lenten callings during spring break was to get to daily Mass during the week.  The challenge being that my two youngest weren't feeling that same calling and Mass began before they catch the bus.  In order for me to be able attend they'd have to go with me.

  For the record, I am not one who's above bribing and this presented the perfect opportunity to try out the term "positive reinforcement" that has been a hot topic in my Psych 101 course.  Also for the record- donuts work like a charm.

  On the drive to our first morning Mass of the week, my young daughter and son were very receptive to talking about the whole concept of Lenten sacrifice.  We discussed how getting up a little earlier to be on time for Mass was a great thing to offer up.  It was at this point in the conversation as they were tossing ideas of offering up treats and privileges that my daughter said, "Well, I've already given up talking back to you, Mom."  To which I responded to my feisty first grader, "That's a very good thing for you to give up, Evie."  She was not done with the discussion until she blurted out, "I'm giving up being perfect!," in the most sincere tone.  I couldn't help but let out a laugh and tell her that is actually a very good idea.

  Evie made it through half the Mass before the wiggles began to get the best of her.  Barely able to contain herself she asked in a not-so-subtle hoarse whisper, "Is it time to go yet,?"  "No," I quietly returned with an added, "Shhhh," to keep her tone down because we were sitting directly behind three elderly, female, church-going regulars.  "But we're going to be late for school!" she whined.  I vehemently shook my head back and forth and pantomimed my finger to my lips hoping to silence her.  This did not get the desired effect as she insisted, "Time to go!"  I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Hey, you gave this up for lent," to remind her of her intent to not talk back to me.  She was quick to reply in her not even close to quiet whisper, "No I didn't- I gave up being perfect."  I didn't count but I'm fairly certain all three sets of shoulders and sets of coiffed hair in front of us trembled slightly in an effort to either keep from sighing or hold in their laughter.  I chose to believe the latter.

  Over this past week I've also come to believe my daughter's proclamation to forgo perfection as sage advice to me.  For sure, this past week's Masses have been a real call for me to let go of any notion of being perfect and just hang on to the fact that we made it to church at all...let alone mostly on time after helping the older four with earlier school schedules catch their bus on time.  The three elderly ladies who were privy to this "whispered" conversation...normally would have been cause for perspiration to bead on my scrunched brow out of a need to keep my children behaved.  This week I let go of exceedingly high expectations and worry of others judgment and was grateful that we had this opportunity to be...simply that...just be in the presence of a God who understands because He made us and even said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Mathew 19:14). 

  I didn't get many house projects done this week- but that's ok, perfection is overrated anyway.  What a great Spring Break reminder. 


 

Gone Fishing

  The dawning of a new age.  The passing of a torch.  These are two of the phrases that describe what I witnessed this morning although I wouldn't say it was a sudden, quick toss of the torch. More like a slow, at times tedious, passing that took years and years to prepare when suddenly you look and the torch is already moving away into the distance and you just don't remember handing it off.

  In this case- the one who poured blood, sweat, and tears wasn't even there to see the fruit of his labor head off in the early morning light.  Instead, I was there to witness the miraculous coming of age that arrived when I dropped my son off at his very first fishing tournament in the cold, early morning hours at Presque Isle.  I was

trying to give my husband, Steve, a few extra minutes to sleep in before rousing the troops for Sunday Mass.  He was the one who had taken trucks, then mini-van's full of children to the many creeks, ponds, lakes, and streams over the years.  His patient fingers had fixed hundreds of worms onto hooks and cast countless lines over calm waters through various seasons of our life.  Yet, here I was, bleary eyed and tousle haired throwing my coat over my jammies to comply with the "Hurry Mom, we're running out of time!," excited plea of my 16 year-old son, Stevie.

  Stevie was born to do this.  He's a natural.  I kid you not, more than one of his science teachers have told us they turned class time over to him to allow him to share his knowledge of habitats or feeding patterns, etc.  He doesn't need a lot of people around him, just nature and the freedom to fish and hunt.  In this case, it was a pan fishing tournament and the only path to his freedom was a car ride from Mom or Dad.  This particular competition was a partner event.  My husband is on the mend from a nasty virus and couldn't go nor could the few buddies Stevie had called.  If there's one thing that's certain about my son, it's his determination.  I've heard his friends call his passion for fishing "dedication" which I found a very nice term for what I consider obsession.  Either way, I was happy to support his love for this fresh-water sport even if I wasn't feeling elated to be up at what felt like the crack of dawn.

  We drove in silence watching our breath puff out like vapor in the 32 degree weather.  I glanced over at his single layer of sweatpants and wondered for the hundredth time if Stevie was capable of feeling cold or if he truly possessed a superhuman quality of being able to withstand extreme weather.  When we reached the marina parking lot I swiftly veered to the right, surprised by the large group of guys lined up to sign in.  I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't this.  I glanced sideways to gage my son's reaction and wasn't rewarded with much other than a tightening of the jaw.  He hopped out of the truck and ran around back to get his gear while I hastily pulled my unbrushed mane into a sloppy pony tail.  As he headed toward the line I rolled my window down and this is when my true reward came...the bit back smile and the flash of adrenaline in his eyes as he leaned his camo-capped head toward me- allowing me to kiss his cheek.  My boy has had the same signature smile- a shy grin he tries to bite back to hide his excitement for as long as I can remember.  I quickly said good luck and watched my son hurry to the line, buckets, poles, and bait in hand- determined to enter his first fishing tournament out of what I'm sure will be many.  And just like that, it happened.  He became his own man, without worry that he didn't have a partner.  He wasn't

concerned with the cold, stares from strangers, intimidating sign up lines- nope, he hopped out of our truck and hurried on his way- knowing he was doing what he was born to do.

  Later that morning, worn out from rising early and the rush of getting the family ready for Mass and teaching religious education to an energetic group of fourth graders, I allowed myself the luxury of an afternoon nap.  The phone rang and I heard my husband answer.  It was Stevie.  This time I was gifted the few extra minutes of sleep while my husband headed down to the Peninsula to gather our son.  He was back within half an hour.  I groggily asked how Stevie did and he simply said, "I'll let him tell you."  I didn't have to wait long after closing my eyes again.  I felt my son poking my shoulder and looked up into his smiling eyes.
 
  Though he didn't win first place team event, he did bring home the prize for the largest fish.

  I've already been told the next tournament is a mere two weeks away.  I think it's safe to say Stevie is hooked! 

Tooth From Down Under

  In my family, trips to the dentist typically happen in groups of two kids.  I generally sign them both in and spend the appointment hour running the hall between two rooms.  I pen my initials next to "No Change" and settle one child in the electric exam chair so the dental hygienist can start the cleaning.  Then I find the other child and together, we giggle at the same cardboard tooth poster that's hung on the wall for the last decade until their assigned hygienist needs my initials etc. 

  The last visit went just like this until the tech said, "we have a problem."  I actually nodded my head and laughed thinking she was pulling my leg.  I've never heard those words spoken of my 12 year-old son, Sam.  Fortunately for him, he'd inherited very strong, straight teeth.  But, it was her latex-gloved finger pointing to the panoramic x-ray that brought levity to the situation.  Quickly, she explained that Sam's lower left canine tooth had tilted completely on it's side til it was horizontal and then migrated all the way under his lower front teeth, until it was preventing the right canine tooth from coming up. 

  I was stunned.  We had been waiting for the right canine gap to fill in ever since he'd lost his baby

tooth years ago.  It wasn't long before the Dentist came in the room and exclaimed, "Wow!  That's one for the books!  His tooth has gone on a walk-about!".  I still giggle thinking of that line- good one Doc!

  Well that tooth and my son continued their walk-about from the dentist to the orthodontist and up the road to the oral surgeon.  This was to be a pretty involved procedure that would require the removal be done in a surgery center with anesthesia.  The danger was in the proximity to facial nerves.  There was risk of permanent numbness, tingling, and paralysis.  Yet to leave it in posed a threat as well.  We were told because of the tooth's position laying sideways under the other teeth, that if Sam were to take an elbow to the chin while playing a sport, his jaw could break.  We needed that tooth to be outta there. 

  What started as a trip to the dentist for a cleaning turned into a surgical procedure that ended up successful and safe.   Our son did great, anesthesia and all.  He definitely was loopy--our personal favorite moment was when he was just waking up post surgery.  Clearly out of it, he asked if it was over and we answered yes, stroked his hair, and told him he was fine.  Then, in a completely unexpected turn of emotion he whispered, "I'm gonna miss that tooth," and promptly burst into tears.  I laughed then cried right along my son.  At least he had a chemical reason to be emotional.  I had no excuse except I love my son and when he hurts, I hurt. 

  All's well that ends well.  Sam gained a fuzzy, stuffed ducky he named "Quackers," and all the ice cream, Popsicles, pudding, jello, and soft drinks he could ingest.  His smile was huge as we checked our sweet bounty out at the grocery store...but his poor swollen chin was so sore he could not enjoy the treats we rarely buy.  He's much better these days and we regularly check the right canine "gap" to ensure that poor tooth has indeed been set free.  If not, it's back to the orthodontist to help it along on it's very own walk-about.

Curiosity

  I googled the word Creative...just because I was curious.  I think the very nature of curiosity is creative...if you take the time to research what you are musing about.

  If you wonder about something...look it up, ask someone, put it out there.  Questions posed have a way of enriching us.

   One of the synonyms that drew my attention was originative.  I can honestly say I didn't even know that was a word. 

  See?  With curiosity comes knowledge...and fun new words.

  What are you curious about?

Breathe and Pray

  I love hair appointment days that go as planned!  My Mother-In-Law was even able to help get the kids on the bus so I could squeeze in an early appointment.  I was able to get highlighted, beautified, AND stop in at Sally's Beauty supply store for intense conditioner.  What is this thing called free time?  In my world it is what happens when a professor falls ill and has to cancel class.  This was the euphoria I was in when an automated message called from the school of my older two children.  The mechanical voice let me know reports of a shooting threat against the school had been posted on social media then reassured me all was under control and police were handling the details.  Within a minute my phone buzzed with the arrival of automated texts generated to let my eyes read what my ears just heard.  I hate this.  This was not the first time these poor kids had to deal with fear of such possibilities.  I wish technology had invented a way to inject some human warmth and compassion into the computerized calling system.  I'd even settle for a robotic, "There, there Ma--ma...ev-er-y-thing will be just fine.," when receiving notice of a threat against my loved ones.

I took a deep breath in time to hear my phone ring again, this time it's a different school in the same district calling and I anxiously answer.  It was the school nurse calling to tell me my elementary aged son can't breathe.  It was the last thing I expected to hear.  It took me a second to shift from the worry of the automated call I had just hung up with and place this call in context.  I had an "A-ha moment, and asked if she was sure he wasn't feeling a bit of anxiety since he was expected to give his book report about Albert Einstein in front of the class...dressed as Albert Einstein.  I heard her muffled giggle then her query to my son.  "No," she responded, "he's saying that's not it." 

  This being  the second time he'd been to the nurse in two days raised my suspicion.  To be fair, the first visit was due to a stoved pinky finger that he insisted was broken.  Well, since I had her on the phone I figured I better check on the pinky status. 

  I am the one who asked...but really? A pulmanologist and an x-ray visit are needed?  Now I can't
breathe.  I'm not begrudging my son care, honestly, just trying to mentally envision penciling the doctor visits alongside the other mounting appointments.  Somehow we'll figure it out.  I continue to ensure my son is stable as we work out a game plan if the situation worsens.  "Yes," I confirm, "I am back in school.  Uh- huh,  I do have school today but my professor canceled my afternoon class...yes, but a group project has been scheduled into the canceled class time slot.  Still- call me if you need me."  With that, I hang up and head out of Sally's Beauty Supply parking lot to meet up with my assigned group for our video production project.  What a surreal transition.

  I get to class and roll a chair over to the group right as my eldest son calls me from college.  I had forgotten to silence my phone- and I'm glad.  I head out of the room to ensure this son is ok and tell him I'll call after class.  Heading back in, I glance down and notice the texts from my daughter. She's filling me in on how scary it was to be at the threatened school and letting me know the rumors that were floating around: a loaded gun found in a locker as well as an arrest having been made.  I am so grateful she has a phone (a hard fought battle on her end) and I can comfort her with reassurance and heart  emojis.

How do I shift into the mode of helping create a script for a video project in the midst of this?  Prayer and the reminder to just breathe. Thankfully, the next automated text received from the threatened school was informing us that it was a non-substantiated threat and classes would resume as normal in the morning.  Whew!!

  The scripting went fine.  What surprised me was yet another phone call that came in as I was walking to my car to head home.  It was the elementary school nurse telling me my son was back in her office...again.  He was fine but complaining of some chest discomfort.  At this point I can really relate.  We chatted, I thanked her for her suggestion of a good allergist who deals with pulmonary issues, and we agreed to touch base soon.

  I think my favorite part of this day, besides actually making my hair appointment, was the moment after I called my Mom when she asked, "So, how was your day?"...  

 

 

 

Writer's Block

  How bizarre is it that I am sitting in a McDonalds (for the free wifi... and a few fries) with my laptop open, waiting for my 16 year-old son to finish his conditioning for the spring lacrosse season, and I am suffering from writers block?

   I know, I know...writers block is neither bizarre nor rare.  And yet, for me, it kinda is.  I typically thrive on the the thrill of a "writing date" when I often experience great relief as my words are allowed and encouraged to tumble out nearly as quick as my unconscious stream of thought.  Not so much this time.
   This flow of ideas used to fall into place quite naturally.  These days it happens briefly, as my head hits the pillow.  The comforting dark envelops and coos to my tired thoughts, coaxing my mind to

connect with the rest of me.  Over the years I have come to appreciate mindfulness and that hushed serenity that swaddles me while the rest of the house which has nestled in for the night cradles my true loves in their beds.  My senses are lulled into an easy going repertoire as a quiet joy, similar to old friends meeting, settles over me.  That is the time when the day, which will never be again, makes peace with my body and spirit, which have just carried me safely through its' past 24 hours.

   Yet, here I am, engulfed in classic rock that pumps from this get-away's surround sound mashed with chatter that blends a foreign tongue and a familiar language forcefully voiced by a child pleading to his parents to take him to the bathroom.  A steadfast middle-aged female employee winds her way through the colorful ensemble, faithfully attending to her duties of wiping down tables.  I am grateful for the cleanliness.  This particular location neighbors a nearby motel casting it's bright light toward the thruway and several gas stations.  It is a veritable way-lay for the travelers seeking a pit-stop on their journey elsewhere this evening.  I hear a nasally voice asking a tired, "did you get that coffee yet?,"  to which her colleague responds with a lackluster "yeah, it's in the cupholder."  The "Na na naaa, na naa, naaaa" from a band, unfamiliar to me, tries to infuse energy in the joint.  The guys, speaking a language I still can't place, spontaneously burst into laughter- which actually does lift the mood and make me smile.

 My grin lingers while a realization dawns...mindfulness itself has healed my writer's block.  The cloying scent of percolating caffeine, readied to assist travelers on their drive through the night, is so heavy it disrupts my reverie and brings me to my senses.  Time to go.  I gather my things and take a closer look around.  I am not the first to leave our temporary community, which shared the last 30 minutes of our lives. Most likely this was the only time our collective group will be together on earth.  This thought wakens the gratitude for always having something to be grateful for and serves as a reminder to sit up and take notice of who we share our journey with. We're on to a different tune now.  So let the drummer drum and the singer sing this very poignant song that plays as I depart:

Give A Little Bit 

Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me                                      
Give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you
There's so much that we need to share
Send a smile and show you care
I'll give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my life for you
So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your time to me
See the man with the lonely eyes
Take his hand, you'll be surprised
Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
I'll give a little bit of my life for you
Now's the time that we need to share
So find yourself, we're on our way back home
Going home
Don't you need to feel at home
Oh yeah, we gotta sing

Written by Richard Davies, Roger Hodgson • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group