5.31.2011

Closing Out May 2011

The last day of May is almost gone.  In half an hour, it will be June.

I have some fun and touching photographs from May that didn't get squeezed into any blog post, so I'm posting them now.   Random, but valuable, moments.    They don't have a long story with them, just a line or two.

Reminders that life can be remarkable. 

     ~             ~              ~             ~              ~
   
The final launch of the shuttle Endeavor occurred in May, leaving behind its last, beautiful plume. 


Interested residents at Southland were wheeled outside for a view.


They guy on the far left in the yellow shirt loves chocolate.  Just a little factoid. 

When Mom arrived home from the skilled nursing facility, she found some flowers from her sweetheart.


She was happy to admire them from her glider, wearing her favorite slippers.  


I think Rudolph and his brother are the coziest things I've ever seen.

The next morning, Mom went to Mass, and she and Dad got to sit side-by-side again...after three long months.


It's a little tacky to take pictures in church, so I persuaded my husband to sneak over and do it.   Mass hadn't started yet, so we were OK.  I cropped out all the disapproving faces.  

Yesterday, there was a cookout at Southland.  We took several pictures, but in every shot, Dad's mouth was busy eating.  This was the best of the batch.


Not the most flattering picture of my father, but you can't say it doesn't look like him. 

One of my favorite pictures this month was from my trip to New Jersey.  Two Salesian sisters were taking an after-dinner stroll in a light drizzle. 

The blooming trees, the wrought-iron bench, the stone cottage, the pinwheel umbrellas, the sweet sisters.  It's just charming.   

My brother was here the end of April, but I'm including this picture in May because I just ran across it again and realized I never shared it with the world.  We skipped out late one night for some soft serve ice cream.

I believe it was after our wine. 


Yes, I'm in my pink, fluffy robe.   This is the kind of loony stuff I do when my brother, the ex-clown, comes to town.

Hope you enjoyed this fine production from the ballpark.

See you next month!

5.29.2011

Our Idaho Potato (happy birthday, Zach!)

Our baby is 30 years old today.


We were living in Idaho when I delivered this 10-pound, cuddle-bug spud.  

He arrived after just a couple hours in the birthing chair, which was a fairly new contraption at the time.  I knew he was a boy, even though I'd never had an ultrasound.  My belly was completely round and solid, like a basketball

When he was three weeks old, we moved to Virginia.  When he was three years old, we moved to Sicily.   When he was five, we moved to Florida.   He's lived here ever since.

In our Air Force-career family, he's the only child who has a best friend from second grade.   Here are the buddies in 8th grade graduation gowns, looking junior-high cool.


Here they are at the birthday boy's wedding, looking grown-up cool. 


This child, our baby, was born six years after our daughter, because after her harrowing seizure experience (click here if you missed it) we wondered if our genes had a tendency to go haywire.  We just didn't know.

So, for awhile, we thought two youngins was likely enough.

Then, I babysat for a friend's newborn.

And that was it.  My heart began to yearn, and my womb began to squirm. 

Just one more, I said to my apprehensive husband.  We talked about it for a long time. 

And then...we stepped out in faith.  This one won't have seizures, I said.  It might have other problems, but it won't have seizures. 

And he never did.

This child was a joy from the beginning.  Our nine-year old son was happy it was a boy.  His young, growing frame carried his little brother around with strength and confidence. 


Our daughter was happy to have a younger sibling to instruct and boss around, if need be.  She taught him to hate tomatoes. 


My hubby and I were more relaxed parents, and this tater-tot was just pure fun.  (He didn't sleep through the night until he was eleven months old, but we don't hold that against him anymore.)

He was a charming little character with an easy disposition.  That is still true today.   His calm, affable nature is one of his most admirable traits.


He was a delightful youngster who loved baseball cards and Kraft macaroni and cheese.  He was a mature-for-his-age teen.   He never gave us a lick of trouble.

Frankly, I don't know how we got such a great kid.  My husband and I aren't that delightful, or mature.

He's like the best of all of us: he is tall and confident like our older son, open-hearted and generous like our daughter, a hard worker like his dad, and a Lost fan like his mom.  What more could you want in your offspring?

He completed our family and blessed it with his wonderful little self.  

As an adult, he continues to brings good things to our family.  Seven years ago,  he married his college sweetheart.


She is engaging and genuine and lovely.   Together, they look outward to see how they can contribute to their world.   I cannot tell you how beautiful and impressive this is.

Earlier this year, they had a son.


These thirty years have flown.  It seems like just yesterday Zach was two, sharing cake with his grandpa.


I love this grainy, old photo.  I cannot imagine our life without this endearing child, the one we almost didn't have.   

Happy, blessed birthday, beloved son.

All our love...

Mom and Dad

5.27.2011

Home Again, Home again, Jiggety Jig

Mom is back home with her hubby today!

This is the sign I posted on their apartment door. 


Mom was in the hospital or rehab for three months.   That's as long as a season.

Here in Florida, it was early Spring when she fell and snapped the head off her humerus bone.  Dad calls that her "spring break."   Literally.   It's now 95 degrees and Summer has settled in.  

But, like other students this time of year, Mom graduated this week.  She got a diploma and everything.


Oh happy day! 

Mom will continue therapy on an outpatient basis and is expected to do well.  Her "numbers" are stable.

We're all so grateful for Mom's caretakers over this time, all the nurses and CNAs, and the wonderful Dr. R., who has been so patient with all of us.   I suspect, at times, we drove him crazy.

Here's the happy graduate with her case worker and one of her nurses.


I hope she's not thinking about graduate school.  :-)


5.21.2011

The Breath of Life (happy birthday, Sara!)

Today is our daughter's birthday.

 

Every birthday, we are amazed and grateful for the fact that she is alive and well. 
When she was 16 months old, she had a seizure that lasted 90 minutes.  90 minutes.


Because she was a chubby, seizing toddler, the medics in the military clinic could not steady a vein to solidly secure a Valium IV to calm the brain.  She eventually stopped breathing.

The doctor began to breathe for her through a table straw inserted into her throat.  He continued this while they took her by ambulance to the nearest hospital, twenty minutes away.  The medics would not allow me to ride in the ambulance.

They told me later, they had not expected her to live.

The situation was doubly frightening because we were stationed in Italy at the time, and she was going to an Italian hospital.  We were just beginning to learn the language.

After an unbearable few hours, an Italian doctor appeared in the waiting room and told us, though a translator, that our baby was stable.

However, she was heavily sedated and would probably not wake until the next day.  He explained that, due to the length of the seizure and their ardent attempt to stop it, they were unsure of the amount of Valium she ultimately received.

They would not know the consequences of this until - and if - she woke up.  They would also not know how her brain had weathered this trauma until some of the medicine wore off and they were able to get an EEG. 

We agonized in the waiting room the rest of the night.

The following morning, our baby woke up, very groggy.   I scooped her close to murmur soothing endearments.  She opened and closed her little hand, her version of a wave, and slurred "Ciao."  Then she fell back to sleep.

To see her eyes focus, her hand work...to hear her sleepy toddler voice...from what her brain had suffered, these were miraculous events.

She was in the hospital for eight days, during which time it was discovered she had an ear infection.  To everyone's surprise, her EEG was normal. 

The doctor who kept her alive by way of the straw said he'd never seen such a severe seizure, and in one so young, in his twenty years of medicine.  He did not think her prognosis would be positive.

When she graduated from college with a degree in chemistry, he sent her a personal letter and a Mont Blanc pen. Today, she is a chemistry teacher.

It has been beyond delightful to watch her grow up and discover the world.

As a kid, she loved soccer and climbing trees and wrapping string around her fingers until they turned purple (the early scientist in her.)
 

As a teen, she loved youth group and dinner theater and thought she might be a doctor.


She has always loved pickle juice and hated tomatoes.

She has been wounded by aspects of life, as we all have been, but is not bitter or cynical.  She is loving and generous.  Her heart is open.

As our only daughter, she must endure the love and silliness we heap on her because of that fact.  Bless her intuitive heart.  She is a beautiful, wonderful young woman.

Happy, blessed birthday, beloved daughter.  A limerick just didn't cut it today.

All our love...


Mom and Dad

5.15.2011

In the Middle

Over Mother's Day weekend, I was in New Jersey visiting our daughter, the almost-nun sister.  I debated not going because, just a few days before I left, Mom went to the hospital with a blood clot in her calf.  They caught it early, and within a few days she was doing well, so I got on the plane.

My husband and father took great care of Mom while I was gone.  This eased my mind.  (My husband also, unbeknown to me, wrote a post for my blog while I was away.  If you missed it, click here.  It's a real winner.)

I thought of Mom often while I was gone.  Certain images/activities brought her to mind.

Like a polished tree trunk that is used to display the Bible.  Mom loves Scripture and, as a teen, I remember seeing her read the Bible.

It was a wonderful, unspoken witness.  The Book was often left open, like this one.    


Braiding my daughter's hair is an activity that brings Mom to mind, because she used to braid mine.

I would get pigtails.

For my own daughter, I french braid.  She's gracious and allows me this luxury, because she knows I love to play with her glorious auburn/golden/red hair.

That and the fact that, when she finally dons her veil, she's going to have her hair chopped short.   AWWWW! 


I thought of my Mom when I saw this baby calf and its family.


It was the sweetest thing.  Small and a bit wobbly, it stayed close to its momma.

The repetition of life came to mind.  My tiny Mom was in Florida with 90 years under her sling.  I was in NJ with my own girl, who was now grown up.

Mommas and babies keep life going.

I thought of my Mom when we baked cookies for the Salesians Sisters.  She made rolled-out sugar cookies every Christmas, a tradition I've continued.

Whenever I'm working with a rolling pin, I think of my Mom.


As we were touring the retreat center, there was a display board with pictures of our daughter teaching a First Communion class.  She is an exceptional teacher.  (Her favorite pupils are high-school students, which tells you something right there.)

Teaching is one gift she shares with my Mom, (who was an English teacher.)  I took pictures of the pictures, because they warmed my heart.    


The final picture that brought my Mom to mind was this one...


Our daughter with her mom...and a statue of Mary behind us.

You don't have to be Catholic to appreciate the heart of Mary, the mother of Jesus.  She was an unwed teenage mom, who celebrated the joys and endured the heartaches that all moms experience.

And some agonies we will never experience. 

I'm blessed to be one of the few people I know my age whose mother is still living.  With my children on one end and my parents on the other, I'm the sweet cream in the middle of the Oreo.

I am so grateful to have been given the full life that my mom afforded me, and so proud to be watching my daughter pursue her own journey.

To my mom, I'm glad God gave me to you, instead of the family down the street.   I would have missed you.



5.11.2011

A Weekend at the Convent

Have you ever spent a weekend with some nuns? 

I never had either.  Until our daughter decided to become one.

This past weekend, I had my second visit with the Salesian sisters, and I'm learning so much.

1.  This particular order - the Salesians - are called "sisters," not "nuns."  Nuns are cloistered, sisters are not.   Now we know.

2.  There are levels of training and formation: first you are an aspirant (meaning to aspire to), then you are a novice (meaning new or beginner.)  Our daughter is a novice. 

3.  The Salesian Sisters I've come to know are not like any nuns sisters I've ever met.  They have facebook accounts; they watch "The Middle"; they offer Cocoa Puffs for breakfast; they wear sneakers. 


And they don't wield rulers.  I didn't see a ruler the entire weekend.  Not even in the craft box I worked from to make some greeting cards.   

4.  These sisters have more energy than I do.  (Their mission is education and spiritual development of youth.)  Some are younger than me, some are older than me, but they're all up at the crack of dawn praying and receiving divine strength and guidance for their day.

While I was there, I rolled out of bed between eight and nine a.m.   I felt like a slug in comparison.

5.  Hospitality is one of their gifts.  These sisters are the most welcoming, care-taking, kind-hearted women.  While I was there with my sister and a friend, we had simple, but the most lovely accommodations.

Small things like hand-made welcome signs and fancy towel pockets...



And bigger things like a stone patio with a beautiful view.

The gray figure is our daughter.






And a wonderfully organized (the spices are alphabetized, I kid you not), industrial kitchen that we got to bake in.


They even had a KitchenAid mixer.  I was in Betty Crocker heaven. 


This baby has seen some dough.  Here, it's humming away on sugar cookies.

Which, upon completion, looked like this...


Sweet, sweet fun. 

6.  Where we visited, the Salesians have two communities - the retreat center/residency...

...and Camp Auxilium, the summer youth camp for which the sisters are known.



At the time of our visit, both areas were lush and green with blooming trees and friendly creatures.

Like butterflies and cows and bears (oh, my...)


I swear, this butterfly stopped and posed for me.


As did this baby cow, who was hanging out with his relatives in a nearby pasture.  His momma, on the right, eyeballed me suspiciously. 

7.  The black bear (and maybe his family) is still around.


The black blob in the center of this fuzzy photo is the local bear. (I don't have a telephoto lens, so, in editing, I zoomed in until the bear no longer resembled an ant.)  He lives peaceably with the sisters, coming close to the homestead only when looking for food in the Dumpster.

We baited him with an apple, to get a picture.  After a few hours, he appeared.

When he was close enough to photograph, I freaked out and ran into the closest doorway.   He's just so big.   And well...a bear.  

On my last visit, I caught a closer glimpse.  He looked like this...


8.  I think I'll just be happy with this picture.

More to come...

5.08.2011

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! (a limerick)

A day to celebrate Dad!
88 years he’s had
His heart is so BIG
I’m dancing a jig
His light in my life makes me GLAD


Dad was a Hop on Pop Pop
He'd play with us ‘til we’d drop
He’d chase us to bed,
sweet dreams in our head
The fun was mostly non-stop

Our family.  I'm the small, cute one.

Music is one of Dad’s loves
It’s one of his gifts from above
Piano and singing,
Christmas bells ringing
They warm his heart like a glove

Dad and the one-eyed cat, Oscar

Dad served the Navy with pride
Interesting....so did his bride
They've had a great life
Sixty years - little strife 
He's very blessed, he'll confide


His grand kids - there are eleven
Two great grand kids – it’s heaven
One is near three
The other - it's wee
Still in the womb.  Anne…or Kevin?  

Dad has a sweet tooth, for sure
To date, we’ve not found a cure
Brownies and pies,
They light up his eyes
 He always wants more, not fewer


A blessed day to you, Pops!
As fathers go, you're the TOPS
I'll love you so much
I'll take to lunch
Stay out of trouble - no cops.


The End.