Tag Archives: love

This is 24 (not 23)!

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This guy! I adore pretty much everything about him (ok, except for mornings).

That sweet face on the right stares out at me from those big brown eyes, with a little hint of a smile that always said, hey, I really know who I am. I’ve got this. And there he is again on the left – over two decades later – same sort of expression, telling me that he will always be cool with it. Whatever ‘it’ is.

DLev. Baco boy. Oneida for life. Badger. The king of sucking it up and moving on. Always gives 100% and never complains. Sometimes to a fault.

I will refrain from the ‘my-little-boy-is-gone-my-son-is-perfect’ drivel and just simply say that if on this day in 1992 I could have written my hopes for who you would become, you have exceeded my expectations. You make me laugh, call me out, challenge me, make me think and most of all let me lean when I have to. (ok, a little bit of my-son-is-perfect, but it’s your birthday)

Raising you has been a joy, buckaroo. (oh, except for that incident with the inside of my windshield, but hey, this is not about embarrassing you ; ).

To the moon and back.

Happy 24, Danny-boy. All you can.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under birthday, childhood, danny, parenting, sons, Uncategorized

And then she turned 27

You wake up one morning, a good 30 lbs over your normal weight (don’t judge), wash your hair, take off your jewelry and nail polish (your version of natural childbirth) and you walk into the hospital to have a baby.

That is pretty much how it went. A stubborn breech baby, Miss Jana preferred the less violent (for her, anyway) exit of a c-section.

You planned for just about everything… and nothing at all.

You did not plan for how amazing your life would become because she was in it. Or how your heart would both fill and break at a moment’s notice when her life took its swings. You counted fingers and toes and thought you were good to go.

jana27And then one day you turn around and she turns 27! Today! And you look at the woman she has become and think, damn if I did anything right in this world it was her (and you too, Dan, but it’s not your birthday). Sure, we all gush about our kids, and love them unconditionally. But, as they age up the parenting piece is so very different. It’s a sidelines thing. A bite your tongue and hope and pray endeavor. And then they start to impart THEIR wisdom to YOU!

So, for your birthday, my sweet Petunia Blossom, I will share some of your wisdom:

  1. In the history of mankind, no one has ever calmed down when you say ‘calm down’.
  2. They now take credit cards in taxis, it’s not 1985. (in my defense I was pretty sick that day)
  3. Sometimes you just have to smile and nod – and shut the hell up.
  4. Repost is the best instagram regram app.
  5. You don’t need to solve it, you just need to listen to me complain. I will solve it myself.
  6. When you take pictures on your phone, you should always shut the sound off.
  7. Don’t eat this [fill in the blank], it has too much salt.
  8. Madewell has great gift items.
  9. This is how you do a face swap video.
  10. Laughter.

But most of all you taught me how to be silly and love life, even when it can be ‘annoying’. It seems you have been doing this your entire life.

3 janas

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Filed under birthday, daughters, family, happiness, Jana, moms, parenting, Uncategorized

Time to Cry Tuesday – Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific

gee-your-hair-smells-terrific

There are people in your life that know you to the core, and as they say, love you anyway. You have a common past and a shared commitment to one another that is unshakeable. I like to refer to these friends as the ones you call, ask them to bring a shovel and they, in turn, ask no questions (not that I have ever done this, but it is good to know).

I am fortunate to say that I have a solid pool of these type of friends and never does a day go by that I do not feel grateful for that. There are three of them that have been in my life since I was in 6th grade. I was a latecomer to this group; they all know each other since kindergarten! Whenever we get the chance, which is not often enough, we go for a ‘reset’. Sometimes it is just a dinner, but when we are lucky it is a weekend. I recommend reset for everyone. It is the best therapy, the most laughs and reminds you WHY (in caps and the all-encompassing why).

This past weekend we reset. With party favors! Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific was the shampoo of our adolescence. We were obsessed with this product. If social media existed back then this product would have broken the internet. One of the reset girls found this online and ordered a bottle for each of us (Ron, I believe I took yours home, sorry). The sight of that packaging brought back a flood of shared memories and cemented our connection once again.

Gee my friends are terrific (yes, corny wrap-up). Ok, I will try again. Without these 3, life itself would be utter chaos, even though sometimes we are the cause of each other’s chaos. We stage interventions, big and small, tell each other the things we don’t want to hear but need to and problem solve (ad nauseum). But must important, we laugh, to the point of tears. (yes, that is this blog’s tagline).

Love, Love, Love, you 3.

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Filed under friendship, notstalgia, products

Time to Cry Tuesday – Olympic Ribbon Curling

ribbon-curling

If ribbon curling were an Olympic sport, my mom would have surely taken home the gold. This woman lived to wrap packages. When the holidays came around she was in all her glory.

Today, being the first night of Hanukkah, I needed to do a little last minute wrapping and went in search of a scissor. There in my kitchen drawer I found one that I had rescued from her house when I was cleaning it out. I thought to myself, ‘just like Elaine to have a floral scissor.’ And then I remembered that I had bought it for her. Perhaps as part of a Hanukkah present one year. This actually looks like her!

At that moment I was so thrilled to have saved this item. There were so many things I had to let go of, but there are special little everyday items of hers that I have sprinkled around my house to remind me of her. Every room has a little bit of Elaine in it. My brother and dad notice when they are here. Hopefully it gives them the same comfort it gives me.

There is no real need to have her ‘things’ around, other than to make my home feel like hers did. She is everywhere I go, in everything I do. So much of her lives in me now. And I am proud to carry out her traditions, both big and small, to honor the type of mother she was. Again, I hope this gives my family comfort.

Let me tell you, that crazy ribbon curler would be damn proud of what her scissor and I turned out on that package tonight.

How lovely to share a little bit of Elaine on the first night of Hanukkah.

Happy and healthy to those of you who are of the tribe.

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Filed under holidays, moms, Time to Cry Tuesdays

Time to Cry Tuesday – On Doors Closing and Opening

doors

I always loved the phrase: When one door closes another one opens.

Last week I experienced an uber (no, not that Uber) example of those proverbial doors. I tried my very best to keep my emotions under the drama bar and go with the flow. This, by the way, does nothing more than exhaust you beyond description and is simply a control freak’s illusion, but I seem most comfortable in this state.

As with most of my life, the sequence of my doors were reversed. But this saying made for a nice thread for this post, so let’s go with it.

On Thursday, a door opened. Big time. The one to my daughter Jana’s new apartment. The apartment that she will be sharing with the love of her life – the young man who she has spent many long years waiting to live in the same city with, let alone under the same roof. In reality, the door to this apartment made it a challenge to get a queen-sized box spring through it and up the stairs to her bedroom, but this was the small stuff. (Rectified, btw, by sofasurgery.com. Quick plug for an amazing service that solved the problem in less than 2 hours from call to completion).

The opening of this door was one to the beginning of a wonderful life together and the joy I feel for them is beyond description. (And contrary to those who question this, his mother and I will not be living with them)

On Friday, a door closed. Big time. After many months of listings, contracts, deals, stops and starts, boiler and oil tank replacements, clean-outs, boxes, yards of bubble wrap, sorting, reminiscing, sales, dumpsters, tears, laughs, one broken toe and one tennis/schlepping elbow… we closed on the sale of my childhood home. With each stage of this process, no matter how much stuff we took out of this house, it still felt like the home of my childhood. My family is embedded in the walls of this place. Even that very last day, the one when the house was completely empty except for the bottle of Stoli in the freezer that we toasted one last time to my mom with, we could not help but feel that she would somehow come walking out of that kitchen.

The closing of this door? Well it certainly carries with it a bag of mixed emotions. I walked out of that closing (both the real estate deal and the door) with an odd sense of calm coupled with an overwhelming exhaustion. I certainly have said my goodbyes to that house, that life, that anchor. I am happy to be rid of the process. But there is a lingering phantom pain surrounding never being able to ‘go home again’.

Ok, so maybe I crossed over the drama bar for a moment.

The net of all this (other than my overuse of cliché and devices)? I am a women who loves signs and juxtapositions. I thrive on the meant to be and the alignment of stars. To close on 10.10 at 10am at 1010 Northern Blvd. rang that bell big time. And it was my grandfather’s birthday to boot.

But nothing rang the bell more than the site of my girl in her beginning as I was tying up an ending.

One door opens and another one closes… maybe it is ok to reverse that saying, after all.

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Filed under aging parents, childhood, cliches, doors, family, sentimentalites

Time to Cry Tuesday – Being Six

1526299_10202899101262805_1167290587_nYeh, that’s me. At six.

Six was pretty perfect. Obviously from this picture I was sure I was all that. This is such an amazing shot. Hey, it got over 50 likes on Facebook in less than 24 hours! I told Gary today I think I might have peaked at six!

All kidding aside, I had the most amazing childhood. And this picture seems to embody it all. I know those are my eyes. I remember her. The way she lounged on that couch and maybe ate a little chocolate pudding out of one of those fabulous green square glass bowls. Or one of the white milk glass ones with the gold rim.  My brother and I didn’t realize that this life was not the norm at the time, but as we grow older we appreciate how wonderful it was to grow up in our house.

And now that house has sort of outlived its happiness for our family. It’s not that it has lost its beautiful memories, it is just time. The master of its charm has left the building, and so now, must the contents of a lifetime. It’s an interesting task. One that uncovers the treasures of the past buried amongst the bowling balls, slide projectors and ice skates from the 1960s. I have just begun, and I am sure there will be many tears and equally as many laughs as we dismantle what was for me, the most wonderful place on earth.

Thanks Dad, for giving me this task. Don’t feel bad about it. Don’t worry about the time it will take. You know this is my process. And you have earned the rest.

What does worry me a little is that closet in the garage, though. Mom always told me if she had a third child after raising me she would lock it in the garage closet… she was kidding, right?

 

 

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Filed under aging parents, childhood, homeowner, moms

Up is down

up-is-down1Sometimes life feels this way. Things happen that throw us completely off kilter. Up is down indeed.

I am big on watching for signs; seeing what is around me and trying to take something away from everything I see. 

On my daily early morning walk, soon after the most ‘up is down’ experience of my life, I came across this painted in the street. I had to smile. Perhaps the person responsible for this did not have me in mind, but it is no coincidence that it was smack in the middle of my path that day.

Each day afterwards I would pass this in the street, and with each day, it started to fade ever so slightly… not unlike the feeling that I had. 

Today, after a weekend of almost normal – or as normal as it could be, or perhaps the new normal – I looked down, and there was my up is down message, faded almost to obscurity. 

up-is-down2Had I not known it was there I would never have seen it. 

This weekend someone told me a little story about loss. Someone had lost someone close to them and when asked how he was he said that although he was getting used to his life he was still holding on to that feeling of loss. That somehow there was something so very special about still having that feeling. And when the feeling has faded it will seem almost sadder. 

I get that. And all I can add to that is that the signs will always be there, they may fade and be invisible to those who are not feeling them, but those of us who are, know they will always be there. 

 

 

 

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Filed under aging parents, loss