Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

How a step-mom says “I love you.”

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Aiden, Ashley and EthanShe is the most honest person I’ve ever known.  And she honestly didn’t like me for a long time after we met.

Can you blame her?  I’m her step-mom, and as long as I was in her life, that meant her mother and father were probably not getting back together.  We met almost ten years ago.  How can that be?  Ten beautiful, difficult years have flown by.  We’ve cried a million tears in that time, danced around each other, wondered where our lives were going.  We both fell in love with the little boys, my sons Ethan and Aiden, her brothers, and our love for them gave us something powerful in common. And then . . . Ashley taught me to not be afraid of the truth.

I remember sitting in Barnes and Noble talking with her about the most intimate feelings of our hearts.  She didn’t say what she thought I wanted to hear, and that gave me the courage to tell her my truth, as well.  Our truths didn’t match, but our courage did. 

I share my life, my home, my family with Ashley.  I call her Ashey.  I’m not sure when the nickname started, but I like it now.  I hope she does, too.  It means “I love you.” It means no matter what the future holds, I love you.  It means no matter who is cold or false or disinterested in the world, I love you. It means one of the greatest gifts your father has ever given me is the chance to know you.

Happy birthday beautiful Ashey.  I celebrate you this day, and there is so very much to celebrate.

Posted in Family, Mother's wisdom, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

“There you are!”

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010

Laurel in redThis is Laurel. She is my oldest daughter, my “sweet girl.”  She is my co-emcee of Special Olympics’ gatherings, my instructor in art appreciation.  She is the reason I am married.  And she turns 21 this week.

I had never been close to someone with Down Syndrome before I met Laurel.  She taught me.  She taught me how to wait, listen, and laugh.  Remember the instructions we learned in grade school if you caught on fire?  “Stop, drop and roll.”  Laurel taught me, “Wait, listen and laugh.”  She showed me what a life without manipulation looks like, a life without cruelty or guile.  She showed me the divine step that comes after forgiveness, the one when you realize no forgiveness is necessary.  She is my light.

She is also, to be quite accurate, my step-daughter, although I feel so proud when the barista at the Barnes and Noble cafe asks if my daughter and I would like our regulars.  She gets chocolate cake and milk.  I get a mocha latte, no whip cream.  I say, “Yes.  Thank you,” and he smiles.  People respond with more kindness when Laurel is with me.  She brings out the very best in people, maybe even in me.

When her father and I realized we were in love, the thought of being a step-mother to three children was terrifying.  These kids were so confused, so filled with pain and blame, just as anyone would have been in their place.  But not Laurel.  From the minute she met me, she loved me.  She would walk into my apartment, her sister and brother unable to speak, let alone smile, and she would throw her arms up in the air and exclaim with Disneyland enthusiasm, “There you are!”

There you are, my sweet girl.  You’re all grown up now, but you still like Barney and coloring books and playing in the sand box.  You are the eternal child, born with everything you ever needed, just as we all are.  And I will learn at your feet for as long as you’ll let me.

Posted in Family, Mother's wisdom | 3 Comments »

Please don’t hurt my baby.

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

blog imageThis is Aiden.  He is my youngest son.  He is the most naturally happy of my 5 children.  He also has a genetic disorder called Noonan’s Syndrome.

I share this with you because, as a result of his disorder, he has been enrolled in a program funded by the State called Baby Watch.  Amazing program.  From the time he was 3 months old, professional women came to our home and taught us how to teach him.  When we would get frustrated that he still wouldn’t eat, terrified that if he didn’t, he would need a feeding tube, they would teach us, hold our hands, show us the way.  When he was 2 years old and still hadn’t said Mama, they helped.  “Lips together.  Ma . . . ma . . . ma.  You can do it Aiden.”  So, when a respresentative from Baby Watch called me this week to ask if I would testify before the legislative committee on health and human services, the same committee that is considering cutting the funding for Baby Watch, I said “yes.”

I have never been a part of the process before.  I’ve always stood safely on the sidelines, reporting on other people’s tragedy, other people’s decisions.  But not this week.  This week I waited in a crammed hearing room with a hundred other people, some disabled, some parents with children who were disabled, some advocates for the disabled, all waiting hour after hour for their turn to speak. 

The committee knew it had more people there than it had time to hear, but it tried to hear us all.  Two minutes.  That’s how long we had.  Each person walked, or wheeled, up to the microphone.  Some held crumpled papers with their life stories carefully written the night before.  They were nervous.  I was nervous.  Whether they were mid-sentence or mid-tear, when the two minutes were up, they had to go.  I understand the pragmatism.  They had to move us along.  But the pain.

The pain of watching us all, one by one, come to the front to beg. “Please don’t hurt my child.”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“I can’t function without my assistance.  Please don’t hurt me.”

It was one of the most humiliating events of my life.  How could we put these people through this?  I know the budget realities.  I understand so many thousands are worthy for so many different reasons, but if we can’t help these most helpless among us, who are we?  Is it purely a numbers game? “Well, there are fewer of them than the rest of us, so we should use the money to help the most people.”  Is that a moral argument?  Which man with polio should we sentence to death by neglect?  Which child with disabilities should we not help develop his brain – when we could – if we could afford to?

I know we need to help each other, that the State is not the answer to all of the world’s problems.  In a perfect world, we would all step up to meet every need of our brother.  But in this imperfect world we live in, who are we if we do not help the most vulnerable among us?  How can we enjoy the benefits we’ll receive with the money taken from these least of our brothers?

I am admitting my bias.  My child benefits. My precious Aiden is learning and growing in the Baby Watch program.  I thank God for the teachers and therapists in that program.  And I am humbled by the process that makes me go to the State to beg.

Please don’t hurt my baby.

Posted in Family, Mother's wisdom, Uncategorized | 5 Comments »

Here’s your stocking stuffer this year!

Monday, December 14th, 2009

blog imageIf your teenagers are like mine, they have cell phones.  They’re on their cell phones constantly.  And their brains, as is evident from their behavior (!) are not as developed as ours.  Why is this relevant to a stocking stuffer?  Because according to Dr. Oz and a doctor from the University of Utah named Dr. Orn Ghandi, the radiation from cell phones penetrates into the head of a child much deeper than an adult and can cause damage.

Look – I don’t know if cell phone usage will cause tumors in my kids, or me for that matter.  But I do know that minds immeasurably superior to mine think they might.  One doctor I read even said that we may be at the beginning of an epidemic of cell phone induced tumors.

So what can I do?  Neutralize the radiation.  That’s it.  I put this little sticker on the back of my cell phone called a Xzubi, and it neutralizes the radiation.  It’s like $15.00.  I got one for each of my kids, too.  I’m thinking stocking stuffer here.

So, if I’m wrong, it was $15.00.  But if I’m right and this technology becomes standard in the industry in a couple years, I protected them for those couple years – and protected their precious brains (which already have enough to challenge them, don’t you think?)

Happy holidays everybody.

Posted in Family, Mother's wisdom | 3 Comments »

I’ll be here when you get here.

Monday, December 7th, 2009

Dad and Dave at clubThis is my dad and my brother, Dave. 

I am writing this blog as I wait for my brother’s plane to arrive.  He’s been texting me every hour or so to tell me his arrival will be late, then later, then later still.  I’ve been looking forward to having dinner with him.  No matter what time he finally gets here, that’s when we’ll eat.  I love having dinner with my brother.

I remember going to fancy restaurants with him when we were teenagers.  We liked pretending to be grown up, ordering steaks or scallops, leaving big tips.  When we lived in Fort Lauderdale, we liked a Polynesian restaurant called the Mai Kai.  We would take each other there on our birthdays, have the wait staff sing, get the celebratory ice sculpture with the mellon balls and the sparkler on top.

When we were older, we would meet at chain restaurants in whatever city we were living in, swap tales of our spouses, work out problems, say “I’ve got your back” or something more delicate that meant the same thing.  And when things went wrong, even after good advice, we would say the same thing.  Or say nothing, and feel the truth of our support for each other in the silence.

When we lost our mother a year ago, we ate take-out from styrofoam containers in her hospital room.  . . or we tried to eat.  Dave’s sweet wife would get us comfort meals and slices of pie, and we’d sit together and try to stop crying long enough to take a few bites of meatloaf.  We smiled at each other, those soft, strong smiles that said, “I’m here for you – now and after she’s gone.”

I am blessed with a brother who is as close to my soul as a human being can be.  I feel his strength as if it were my own, his pain as if it were mine too, and his success as if the party has already started and I’m the guest of honor. 

So Dave – don’t worry how late your plane is.  I’ll be here when you get here.

Posted in Family, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »