Have I met you already? I think I may have. If I have….yay!!! If you’ve captured his heart, that’s huge. Knowing him the way I do, he wouldn’t give up his heart lightly. If you’ve captured his heart, you must be pretty amazing.

Before I had kids, I would scoff at my mother’s “my son” comments. They annoyed me. I didn’t get it then. I get it now. The second I looked into my son’s beautiful blue eyes, I got it. My son. It is true that the relationship a mother has with her daughters is different than the one she has with her son. Equally as wonderful, but vastly different. My girls are my best friends. No doubt. They get me, and love me anyway. But he is my son. My son. I get it now.

“A daughter is a daughter for all of her life, but a son is a son until he takes a wife”. Has anyone ever read a more horrifying sentence than this? I don’t think so. The fact is, I will need your help to make sure this isn’t true. I will need you to take over where I left off. I have tried to raise a man who is good and kind, honest and trustworthy, respectful and compassionate. I think I have, but you will have to make sure. Do not accept anything less. Make sure he knows your worth. I believe he will.

I will need you to help him create a family like the one he grew up in (and hopefully like your own). A family who may be far from perfect but makes you feel safe and loved beyond all measure. A family who will fight to the death to keep you safe, happy and healthy. A family who enjoys each other’s company and chooses it quite often. A family built on love and respect and a wicked sense of humor. You know what they say about a family who laughs together… we’ve got that one down perfectly, for sure.

I will need you to keep pushing him to meet his full potential. He will be awesome. Challenge his intelligence. Encourage him to always keep learning. Make sure he does the same for you. Together, you will be amazing. I know he will work hard, as will you, but make time for each other. Cherish the little things in life. Something as insignificant as a quiet cup of coffee or tea in the morning together could be the best part of your day. Make a promise to always ask how each other’s day was, and really be interested in what is said. That is so important. Please do that for him, but also expect him to do the same for you.

Most important of all is just love him. Love him with everything you have and everything you are. He deserves it. He has deserved it every single day of his life. He has had some tough things to deal with. I am sure you will know about them. It has made him stronger and more determined than anyone I know. It has forged the path he has chosen to take. Things may get dicey for him at times. Please take care of my boy. Please love him through it as I would expect he would do for you.

Finally, I want you to know how grateful I am that you love my son and that he loves you. Please know, I will be here for both of you, always, for anything you need. I will always be a safe place for him to come to, but I promise to be that for you as well. No matter what. After all, if you have captured his heart, you must be pretty amazing and I already know that I will love you like my own….

Love,

The one who loved him first…his mom.

I have 3 kids. All 3 were born in February. One in the beginning of the month, one in the middle, and one at the very end. Is that weird? I thought it was weird but my doctor said no. Childbirth, in my opinion, is not pretty. I didn’t find it beautiful or magical or spiritual. At all. The end result was all that and more. Well, sometimes. I’m pretty honest and real about stuff like this. Downright candid, if you will—see what I did there? So if I’m being honest, childbirth is nasty. Each birth has its own story, and that goes for every woman everywhere who’s ever given birth. Without going into any icky details because, well, just eww, I’d like to describe those 3 different days / experiences…

Nicole was first. Ah, Nicole… Nicole made me go from wanting 4 kids to wanting 1. She was 2 weeks late, huge at 9 lbs 10 oz (with only demerol) and was born on February 29th. So I gave birth to a toddler with no birthday. She was born with so much hair that the nurses styled it. Boy was she gorgeous. Almost needed a c-section. Did need iv fluids for 24 hours after. Looked and felt like a truck hit me. Pretty sure the nurses thought I had a little postpartum because I didn’t want to hold her when Bruce wasn’t there. Truth was, my arms were so weak, I was afraid I would drop her. My sister had told me that giving birth felt like really bad cramps. When I saw her the next day I may have said some colorful, not so nice stuff to her.

Baby #2 was my Michael. Since Nicole was late and so big, my new doctor did not want me to go too long, so I was induced. Since I knew when I was going in, my hair was done, as was my make-up and nails. I also had an epidural. Didn’t get one with Nicole because I thought they would paralyze me. Clearly, that wasn’t the best decision because it took me 4 years to get over that experience enough to do it again. I did not feel the contractions at all once that stuff kicked in. I was watching TV and the nurse would tell me when the contraction hit so I could push. I told the anesthesiologist that I loved him. He looked at Bruce who immediately said he didn’t care as long as I was happy… Apparently Mike had the cord wrapped around his neck for a few seconds but nobody told me til much later. Guess they knew I’d freak out. He was only 5 ounces less than Nicole at 9 lbs 5 ounces but his delivery was a walk in the park compared to Nick’s. I was all settled in my room in time to watch All My Children and didn’t look much different than when I got to the hospital that morning. God Bless the epidural…

My last and smallest baby at 8 lbs 2 ounces was my Dana. My little peanut. Again I was induced and again I had an epidural. I’m no fool. It didn’t work as well as with Mike, but nothing crazy. I remember there was another woman in labor across the hall from me and my doctor was going back and forth between us. She made it into a race to see who would deliver first. She said it would certainly be me since this was my 3rd and the first for the other woman. She was right. It was quick. We wanted to be surprised with Nicole. We decided to find out with Mike because I was sick of yellow and green. With Dana, we wanted to know the sex but she wouldn’t cooperate, leading me to believe she was a girl. As she was entering the world, my doctor was saying “come on, are you Dana or Jackson?!!” Again I was settled in my room and watching TV, looking the same as I did when I got there. The next day when Bruce brought Nicole and Michael to meet Dana, Michael walked in and wouldn’t look at me. HE WOULDN’T LOOK AT ME. He wasn’t quite 2 years old and I guess he didn’t get it. I cried myself to sleep when they left….

After both Michael and Dana were born, when the nurse would ask if I wanted them to bring me the baby for the night, I very politely said no thanks. Were they joking? I knew what was waiting for me at home by that point. Complete chaos and exhaustion. I wanted to sleep and not deal for a bit. Is that wrong? I didn’t really care if it was at the time…

I always heard that with girls you gain weight all over and with boys you don’t. I have to say, with Nicole I gained EVERYWHERE. Same but not as bad with Dana. With Mike it was totally different. Just a large basketball in front but not too much everywhere else. Also, is it bad that my youngest is 18 and I still haven’t lost that damn baby weight? Still trying. Maybe some day…..

Would love to hear some of your birth day stories….

Hopefully not too candidly,

Donna

I should be in Hershey, Pennsylvania right now, but I’m not. This should have been our 19th year spent at the Hershey Lodge during Thanksgiving weekend, but it isn’t. Instead, we are home for the first time in so many years that it truly feels weird being home. It almost feels wrong. Our most loved and anticipated tradition has been interrupted. By Covid. Don’t get me wrong. I get it. This virus has taken so much from so many. Most viciously, it has taken my beloved grandmother from me. From us. This year can not end soon enough and yet I wish we could do it over. But that is for another day. For now, I’m sulking and feeling sad and that’s ok because I will shake it off. At some point. But first, let me tell you about our Hershey Thanksgiving tradition….

The first year we went, Dana was only 9 months old so it is really all she knows of Thanksgiving. We decided to go after the previous Thanksgiving had me sitting at the top of a flight of stairs at my parent’s house the entire day, very pregnant, so that Mike wouldn’t take a header down the stairs. It didn’t sit well with us so we decided we would start going away instead. My sister decided to join us because she did not overly enjoy going to her in-laws’ house for Thanksgiving. It was a perfect plan. The five of us plus my mother-in-law (of course) and the 3 of them. Oh, those were amazing years…

The kids basically grew up in that lodge. Each year they explored more and more until they knew every nook and cranny of that hotel. They would play hide and seek and make up games or “stalk” a hotel employee who was cute-lol… all while the adults relaxed with a drink or coffee in the lobby by the fire. If I’m being honest, the first few years weren’t truly relaxing for me because I was usually chasing the littles, but it was so much fun. We’d go to the park one day, Chocolate World one night. Sweet Lights was great the first year that it opened.

As the years went on, it definitely became more relaxing and my favorite vacation to look forward to. The park wasn’t completely open which was ok, especially when it was really cold. The cold air was good though because you weren’t sweating walking around the whole park. There was no pressure to do anything really. We spent some really good quality time with each other: us, my sister, my brother-in-law and my niece. Those were some of the best years of my life. Truly.

With the passing of years came some other changes as well. First my mother-in-law stopped coming with us because she stayed home with the dogs so we didn’t have to board them. Then my sister got divorced and they stopped coming. Them not coming was a blow I thought would put an end to our tradition. It made us all sad. It just wouldn’t be the same. We discussed it as a family and decided unanimously to keep going.

The past few years at Hershey for Thanksgiving weekend have been an absolute blessing. Just the 5 of us. Together. Relaxing and most often laughing. The stress we all feel from work or school or just life in general melts away at that place. It’s amazing but it’s so true. It’s magical. I know things will be changing again. In fact, this year would have been slightly different as we were to be bringing Mike’s girlfriend with us. That would have been fun.

So, although our tradition was interrupted this year, I don’t believe it is done. It might look different next year. Who knows how many we will be? It won’t matter. It will still be relaxing and fun. We will keep going until none of us wants to. To be honest, I would love to still be going in the future with some grandchildren. How incredibly cool would that be?! Very cool!

I hope you all had a beautiful Thanksgiving. I did, in spite of the crappy situation we are all in. I pray that next Thanksgiving, Covid is a nasty, sad memory and life will be back to “normal”…whatever that means….

Until next time….

The countdown is on…..less than two weeks before two of my kids leave for college. Junior and Freshman. I am used to Michael leaving, though I still don’t like it. It’s been so crazy between Covid and getting stuff ready for them that it hasn’t actually hit me. Dana just made me cry though. I asked her when her best friend is leaving and she said Tuesday. And that was all it took. I looked away and fought it but the truth is, everything is about to change for them. For all of these kids. My heart aches a little for all the feelings they must have right now: excitement, fear, nervousness, and sadness. I know it will hit my girl hard next week when she says goodbye to Alana. Damn, I will be a mess too just seeing her pain. I will miss that kid too. So much. Next, she’ll say goodbye to her boyfriend. Oh boy, not looking forward to that either. Ugh….

Finally, as much as I’d like to fight it, she will say goodbye to us. Not sure how that will go. She’ll say goodbye to her siblings at home because only two of us are allowed to be on campus with her. That will suck. I can only hope that I make it out of her line of vision before I lose it. It will be nearly impossible, I’m sure. If she cries, and I think it’s a safe bet that she will, it will definitely put me over the edge. My littlest baby. My sidekick since forever. My girl who couldn’t go to preschool because “but mommy, who will go shopping with you”….

The family dynamic will shift yet again, and while I know this is what is supposed to happen, it is painful and heart breaking and really hard. My purpose in life has changed and evolved over the years, for sure.  I don’t recognize this me. I don’t think I like her all that much. She’s kinda lost at the moment. Adrift, so to speak. Not sure of herself or what to do or what comes next….

Change is good, right? Not a big fan for the most part. Not sure how I am supposed to feel about it all. Right now I’m just sad. Of course, right up until move-in day, things could change and they could decide not to have anyone live on campus….not sure how I’d feel about that either right now….

To all my friends in the same boat right now, I feel you and I’m sending you hugs…

Until next time…

Donna

 

Anybody else wondering what the hell comes next? I am. Every single day. What will happen next? 2020 has been a clusterf&$k of crazy, scary, confusing and sad stuff so far. Is there a way to start it over? Or maybe to fast forward to the end of it and move on to the next year?

I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that pretty much sums up my feelings lately. It said something like: some days I’m all “I’m getting on with my life. Nobody can stop me!” And other days it’s “I’m never leaving my house again.”

I’ve been working from home since mid March – super thankful to still have a job and a paycheck. Not sure when we will be starting our return to work at 50%, but I think it will be soon. Things will be totally different for a while. Very unsettling to say the least.

Dana’s graduation was put off until July 24th with plans to be outside with some restrictions. Will it actually happen? I think so. Unless something changes and they have to cancel. Prom? Doubtful. I look at her dress hanging in the foyer every day and it makes me sad. A stupid prom dress makes me sad. It’s beautiful and she would have looked incredible and I’m thinking she would have had an amazing night. Sad.

Will Mike be on campus in the fall? Plans right now indicate yes, with tons of restrictions and plans for a quick switch to fully remote if necessary. Does it make me nervous to send him back to the Bronx? Hell yes. My anxiety will be high. Mount Everest high. I almost wish they would tell everyone to stay home for the fall and everything is online. But that’s today. Tomorrow I might be all “we can’t live in fear. He’s an adult now and will do what he has to do to stay safe.”

Will Dana be starting her freshman year on campus? Again, plans right now say yes. Again with a ton of restrictions. As of now we can not help her move in. We are to drop her off at her dorm with all her stuff and say good-bye there. Can’t see where she will be living. Can’t help her set everything up and make sure she is good to go. Is she capable of doing it by herself (I’m guessing there will be upperclassmen to help)? Of course she is capable. She is ready to go. I want her to go. Today. Tomorrow will most likely be a different story. I don’t think she can come home until Thanksgiving or that we can visit. My mama heart hurts.

My feelings are as fluid as the situation we are all in.  Things change every day. What phase are we in now? How many phases will there be by the time we are good? Will there be a vaccine soon? Will anyone take it? Will there be a second wave? Will it be bad? Will it all disappear some day soon? I’ve been avoiding the news because quite frankly, I don’t trust anything they say at this point. I don’t know who or what to believe now. Too much conflicting information. Too much bashing and blaming. Tired of it. Disgusted by it.

On the bright side–when I can see one–my nails are fabulous again and my hair will be less scary in a few days and my dogs will be groomed soon. So that’s good, right?

Trying to stay positive and hopeful,

Donna

 

It has been almost 3 weeks since we lost her and I still can’t believe it. Writing is sometimes therapeutic for me so I apologize in advance for the sad post.

I think about my grandmother every day. Sometimes it is something funny she said or how almost every time I saw her at the nursing home, at some point she would say “it is what it is” to me. I have that tattooed on my arm. She knew what it meant and why I got it. When she would say it, she would always put her arms up in this certain way that she did, that would always make me laugh.

One of the last times I saw her sticks out in my mind. She looked at me while I was talking and said that I was beautiful. It surprised me. A lot. She constantly told me she loved me, but never said that to me. At least not that I can remember in recent years. I thought about that a lot in the days after. I don’t think I’m beautiful. I never have. But for some reason, hearing her say that meant so much. My grandmother was not one to tell you what you wanted to hear. She told you the truth. If she didn’t like you, you knew it. I get that from her I guess.

Hearing her voice always made me feel better. I always hung up smiling when I would call her. I truly believe it was just knowing that she loved me that made all the difference no matter what kind of mood I was in or what was going on. Her voice and her words had some weird calming, comforting power to me. I miss that already. I can’t believe I won’t hear that voice anymore. That hurts tremendously. I saved a video that one of my cousins posted on facebook last week because it was of my grandmother and she was talking. It was a funny video, but it was the voice that I wanted to save. I have watched it over and over. It is not the same.

I think about her every day. At different, random times. Sometimes I am stunned by the fact she is gone. Sometimes I just start to cry. Nicole said it well when she posted about her, saying she can’t believe that when this is over we won’t be going to the nursing home to see her as usual. I feel like I am under water at times. I come up for air and I’m good and going about my day. And then I sink again. Into sadness and anger and denial.  I’m almost 53. I know how lucky I was to have my grandmother with me for so long. I get that. I would never have been ready though. I needed her more than I knew. I needed more time.

I know I will be ok. I know in my head that life will go on. That it has to. Until now, I have not lost anyone who meant so much to me. Lucky me, I know, but this is incredibly difficult. My heart just hurts. A lot….

Please stay safe, friends, and thank you for letting me ramble a little…

With love….

Donna

 

I can’t remember a time when I have felt as anxious and uneasy as I do lately. I am stressed because every time I turn on the tv or go on Facebook, it’s all Coronavirus, all the time. I understand that people need to get the facts, but is that what’s happening? I can’t figure that out because there are so many different “facts” being thrown around day after day. Things being taken out of context. The statistics thus far are not very clear. This many cases, that many deaths, underlying conditions, age groups being hit hard or not at all. It is all very mind boggling and incredibly nerve wracking…

This has led to a bit of depression. Quite normal in a situation like this, I’m guessing. I am currently working from home with two kids taking their college and law school classes remotely and a high school senior who is anxious and sad that her senior year has come to an abrupt end. Prom? Graduation? We have no idea how this will play out. My girl gets that the bigger picture is what is important right now. That, however, should not mean that her sadness and disappointment are not valid feelings. This is tough on these kids. All of them. It is weird and not normal and scary. I see that it is affecting her and I don’t really know how to make her feel better because I don’t know when it will be ok…

And yes, I have not really gotten dressed in days. I mean, why bother? Nobody has seen me for a week now. I am currently only wearing what I refer to as my “not leaving the house” outfits each day. The comfy stuff. The stuff I wouldn’t wear out in public. I did put on some make up this morning. You know what they say-if you look good, you feel good. Nope. Maybe that’s because I had my daughter braid my hair the other day after I washed it to see if it would dry as wavy and nice as hers does. It didn’t. I’ve got more of a chia pet look going on but who cares? That’s what pony tails and claw clips are for. Am I right? I am.

In conclusion, this totally sucks. I know you all agree. I know we are all doing our part to try to stop the spread of this shitty virus that really isn’t “shitty” so I don’t get the whole toilet paper thing but whatever. I know we will all get through this and things will calm down and get back to normal. I really do hope and pray this happens sooner rather than later and that we all come out of this relatively unscathed.

Stay well, be safe and try to laugh a little each day. It really does help. So does vodka….

Candidly,

Donna

 

My beautiful grandmother lives in a nursing home. That is a very difficult thing to accept and to deal with. I hate that she is there. I hate going there. I hate what it represents-the end of a life. I go see her as often as I can. It takes a lot out of me to be upbeat and “bubbly” (she calls me bubbly), when I am there. I want to go back in time for so many reasons. That place is one of them.

I walk down the halls and see old people slumped over in their wheel chairs, just waiting to die. Does anyone visit them? Does anyone care? It hurts to walk through that place. I try to block it all out and just look straight ahead, or down at the floor, until I get to her room. It is incredibly depressing.

Usually while I am sitting with my grandmother, an aide or nurse will come into her room for one thing or another. I watch to see how she interacts with them. I always think about how she is treated there. Are they nice to her? Do they take good care of her? Is she afraid of them? There are so many horror stories you hear. If I dwell on those, I panic and can’t stop thinking about it. She’s funny as hell and jokes around with them a lot so I think she’s well liked. Sure hope so..

There are times, when I am there, that she tells me how wonderful they all are and how she loves them. Then there are times when she hates it there and tells me how awful everyone is. There are days when she is ok…..as ok as she can be there, I guess…. and there are days when she says she never thought she’d end up in a place like that. Me either, Nanny. Me either. Those days are the worst. Those are the days that I cry all the way home.

My grandmother is 100 years old. ONE HUNDRED! As amazing as that is, I need a hundred more years with her. I know that’s not possible and I’ll never be ready to accept that. I hate that she is where she is. She shouldn’t be there. She just shouldn’t. I know in my head there wasn’t another viable option, but my heart is angry that she is there. My heart is angry……and broken..

That’s all I’ve got in me today….sorry for the downer 😦

Candidly, and a little bit sad,

Donna

How old were you when you found out the awful truth about Santa? I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember being devastated. The song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” took on a whole new meaning for me. To this day, I would swear there was one year when I heard Santa’s sleigh bells outside on Christmas Eve. AAHHH, what a magical memory. What a magical time of year…

I remember my little brother sleeping on the floor in my room because he was just so excited that Santa was coming. I remember waking up in the morning wondering what would be under that tree for me. One year I got the most amazingly beautiful bicycle. Very girly. Very me. I was always happy with whatever Santa left for me.

Christmas was the best time of year. It meant presents and food and family. People are different at Christmas time. They are nicer, warmer, friendlier. Everything is bright and glittery and colorful. Who doesn’t enjoy driving around at night to look at all the beautiful Christmas lights? It’s mesmerizing..

When you have kids, the magic changes in a way and you relive it through the eyes of your children. Did Santa come??? Did he eat the cookies? Mommy!!!! Santa left me a note!!! How clever was I?! There is something indescribably wonderful about watching your kids open the presents that Santa left for them. All innocence and faith and purity and love. I miss that now that my kids are older.

The magic of Christmas diminished for me for a while. I can’t really explain why, but I lost the feelings. My girls are helping me get it back. Every year I say I’ll be more into it next year as far as decorating, etc., but it just doesn’t happen. Well this year my girls decided to take the initiative and start decorating whether I like it or not. Their excitement for the season is definitely rubbing off on me. I have been pretty “bah-humbug” the last few years and it has really bothered me, but I just haven’t been able to shake it. I am, once again, trying to see the magic through the eyes of my children. And it isn’t about the presents for them, either. It seems to be just about the feelings…..the magic of the season. The music, the classic Christmas movies and shows, the decorations, the crisp air….

 

Thank you, my beautiful girls, for helping me see the magic again… This weekend I will be watching all the Christmas shows I’ve recorded: Elf, A Year Without a Santa Claus (my favorite!), Frosty, and all the rest–while I decorate with my daughters.

Here’s to a spectacularly magical Christmas season for all of us….

Almost merrily,

Donna