Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Do Our Best Work

Reading messages from my children's teachers, who technically are on break right now, but are scrambling to restructure. This is spring break here, but they have asked teachers to transition to eLearning for the week after. This is new - we are not a school system that has used eLearning historically, so teachers, administrators, and students are all flying a bit by the seat of their pants. 

In one of these emails, this stood out.

"Let’s be flexible with each other and do our best to work through this time in the most efficient and reasonable ways possible."

This literally hit my inbox as I work on a message to share with my staff on what our ideas look like for how to handle the next several weeks.

Right now, I have a deadline in one month. 

It *might* change, but I can't count on that.

In the meantime, I have offices of employees and clients to worry about. I now am carrying the burden of both financial AND physical well-being, on some level. 

It's heavy. I'd be lying if I said differently. I'm not carrying these things alone, by any stretch, but here they are.

So, as we all navigate these bizarre, uncharted waters, as we watch Italy and Spain stop in their tracks, as we scramble as a country to gain access to proper testing, as a divided nation grows more so in a time when supporting one another is SO critical, I think I will cling to two things - the words of this teacher:

"Let’s be flexible with each other and do our best to work through this time in the most efficient and reasonable ways possible."

Along with the words of one of the best managers I had an opportunity to work under:

"The task ahead of us is never as great as the power behind us." 

We are powerful when we work together. I'm grateful for that.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Intentional

The last few years have held some life-changing experiences for my circle. Some have been amazing - my oldest got to take a fantastic trip to England with a school group. My middle was recognized by a film festival held at the United Nations. My youngest discovered a passion for running that she didn't know she had, and ended her cross country season with a first place finish in her class. From these things, each of my children have explored new things, stepped outside of their comfort zones. They've learned, and grown and experienced, and that is so valuable.

We've also seen some heartbreak. Two friends lost their husbands to cancer within just a few months of one another. We've faced some fears and obstacles getting to the point we're at with J's pituitary mass, and (finally!) next week we'll get to meet with the neurosurgeon to determine what's next. My stepmother lost her mom unexpectedly a few weeks ago.

I keep being reminded that things can change in a heartbeat. That in a brief moment, everything we know to be true could be different. 

This isn't new, or original. Lots of us have felt this way at times in our lives. We use these opportunities to become intentional. I am intentionally listening more closely to my kids and my spouse. I am intentionally taking a few extra minutes to laugh and give my dogs belly rubs. I am intentionally pausing for two or three minutes to take a few deep breaths and re-center myself in the midst of a busy day. I am intentionally making appointments to see my doctor. We're looking at vacations, and spending time together as a family. 

I'm being intentional. 

So often we get swept up in the day-to-day. I won't go so far as to say we're "just trying to survive" but it feels that way at times. We become almost robotic in our actions - the alarm goes off, and the routine kicks in. Not that there is anything wrong with routine, mind you, but sometimes, we need to go off script. We need to share an ice cream and conversation with a kiddo. We need to call a loved one and chat for 20 minutes. We need to take a few minutes to stand in the sun - eyes closed, face turned up, breathing deeply. Try and find a way to make some of that part of your routine. Pick what works for you - a coffee date, a short walk, shoot, I even just use a Sudoku app on my phone for an occasional brain break. Just remember to reach out to others around you, take care of yourself, and be intentional. 

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

It's Baaaack!!

Non-stop Mario for Child's Play Charity

If you've been a reader here before, or have followed me on Twitter for any length of time, you may have seen mention of Mario Marathon before. If you haven't, here's a quick synopsis -

Some guys here in Indiana hijacked the idea of playing video games, streaming it online, and using it as a fundraiser. They picked an awesome charity, Child's Play, to support, and ended up making it a mostly annual event. (They took one year off in there because sometimes adulting is hard, and people move, and have kids, and these guys were forking out literally thousands of dollars making it all work and, frankly, they needed a break.) But then they came back, and my crew is yet again totally stoked about it. The cool part? Audience participation, which equals donations to Child's Play, to the collective tune over the last 10 years of over $560,000!!    

So, what the heck is Child's Play? Good question. Child's Play Charity is a charity that provides games, books, DVDs, toys, etc to children's hospitals around the world. Founded by "gamers" with the idea of "gamers giving back", Child's Play uses funds raised to help kids have fun in a situation that could be... less than fun. (Because hospitals are not so much fun!) 

So, anywhooo... This is taking on some cool new meaning for me as we will officially become patients of an area children's hospital soon, courtesy of our Bump. Both of the children's hospitals in Indianapolis are partner hospitals with Child's Play, so this has really started to come full circle for me. 

Gist of all this is that Mario Marathon is back, and will be streaming live beginning at 11am Eastern on June 23, 2017. We're looking forward to it, and hope you'll join us. If you'd like to support Child's Play, you can make a donation (which goes DIRECTLY to Child's Play, the team gets information for tracking purposes only, but your funds go 100% to the charity) using the button there in the left sidebar. 

Want to read other posts I've shared about MM in the past? Find those here! 

Sunday, August 2, 2015

First Day of School

They are tucked away in their beds, but I doubt they are sleeping just yet. Nervous energy and all that.
In just a few hours, I will start the process of rousting them for their first day of school. My freshman. My middle schooler. My baby in her final year at our elementary school.
For the first time ever they will all three be in different schools. Three different busses will carry them away. Three different times in the afternoon that they will be arriving home. New faces. New friends.
The nervousness here has been palpable. Not for Melissa so much - she is flitting about, humming like a hummingbird, anxious to start. It is comfortable for her. Teachers she adores, a building she knows. Friends she has been missing.
But the boys? Nervous. Tense. Eli is headed to a much bigger school, and is facing down some pretty intense academic challenges. Jeep is off to a smaller high school with an intense curriculum and very few familiar faces.
Backpacks have been filled, checked and rechecked. Clothes picked out. Lunch accounts funded. We are as ready as we can be.
Truth be told, I am nervous too. My babies aren't any more. They are teens and tweens taking big steps towards their futures. It is what they are supposed to do. It is what we, as parents, are working towards, right? But it is scary for us too. We worry about so many of the same things they worry about - will they make friends? Will they be good friends to have, or will we always worry about the choices they are making with those friends? Will they make good choices on their own? Will they get lost? Be afraid? Eat enough? Understand their classwork? Like their teachers? Come to us when they have questions or concerns? If not to us, to another trustworthy adult?
Tomorrow, my town will turn around 12,000 children over into the hands of hundreds of other caring, loving adults. Adults who also have first day jitters, and who also want our kids to succeed. To grow. To be amazing.
So, to my three - do just that. Succeed. Grow. Be amazing. Work hard. Do your best. And then?
Come home and tell me all about it.
Love,
Mom

Friday, June 12, 2015

J goes to England–a BTV production

A short 24 hours ago, I was standing with a group of other parents, a few grandparents and siblings, three teachers, and 21 students at the Indianapolis International Airport, preparing to put those teachers and students on the first of two planes that would carry them to London.

Y’all?

I just sent my 14 year old son to England.

(I’ve never even wandered across a border into Canada or Mexico. I’m trying to not be jealous, but I’m not sure it’s working!)

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(Me, my mom & J at the airport waiting on everyone to arrive.)

My son has had the opportunity to be part of an award-winning television and movie production program through his school for the last 2 years. Part of that program has included partnerships with schools in other parts of the world, including skype conferences and collaborations. This is part of the result of that effort – an exchange trip to the sister school in England!

You can follow along with us via the program’s twitter account – @BatchelorTV

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Mario Marathon Time again!!

Our setup for MM7 – the feed is happening on a 32” TV, with chats and twitter on my laptop.

I’ve talked about Mario Marathon a zillion times, once here, again here, made some cookies here, and so on. (Search the blog for Mario Marathon to see the posts I’ve shared over the last 4 years!)

I’m sharing again.

The guys started their event on Friday, so at the time I’m writing this, they have been playing for 53 and a half hours. Unfortunately, last night, they endured a DDoS attack and were unable to properly process donations. As a result, they are behind pace.

Donations, you say? Yep. See, Mario Marathon is a volunteer run charity event. Exactly *ZERO* dollars of the money raised is used to cover the overhead for the organizers. They use their vacation time and personal funds to operate the event. All money raised goes directly to this amazing organization, Child’s Play Charity. Child’s Play uses the funds raised to fulfill wish lists from children’s hospitals around the world – games, books, movies and more. From the Child’s Play Charity site:

Since 2003, we’ve set up and organized Child’s Play, a game industry charity dedicated to improving the lives of children with toys and games in our network of over 70 hospitals worldwide. Over the years, you as a community have answered the call and come together to raise millions of dollars.

Child’s Play works in two ways. With the help of hospital staff, we set up gift wish lists full of video games, toys, books, and other fun stuff for kids. By clicking on a hospital location on our map, you can view that hospital’s wish list and send a gift.

Child’s Play also receives cash donations throughout the year. With those cash donations, we purchase new consoles, peripherals, games, and more for hospitals and therapy facilities. These donations allow for children to enjoy age-appropriate entertainment, interact with their peers, friends, and family, and can provide vital distraction from an otherwise generally unpleasant experience.

Before the start of the event this year, Mario Marathon was responsible for bringing in over $400,000 to Child’s Play. I’d love to see them cross over the $500,000 mark this year! I continue to be so grateful for healthy children, and fight hard for families who are not as fortunate.

Monday, September 30, 2013

Gold with Envy

I was never a girl who was in to pink anyway. These days, I have to really fight to not be bitter about it.

I don’t begrudge them their month. I’m even continually impressed by how many organizations step up and promote the pink.

It crushes me, however, to watch it push into September.

September is for the kids.

September is gold.

Where are those organizations when the kids are involved? Why isn’t my soup can gold, and why aren’t  my favorite receiver’s gloves gold, and where are the gold ribbon displays at the grocery, and the convenience store, and, well, dammit, where is the gold?

I see it here and there, in part because I am looking. Because much of my social network is looking, and we share the images. We celebrate the businesses that support the kids that are fighting. We hunt it out, the gold.

The pink? It’s everywhere. My emails are full of it, my stores are flooded with it. They’ve worked hard for that, and I know we all know someone who has been touched by breast cancer, but I know so many who have been touched by pediatric cancer! I know how drastically underfunded research is where the kids are concerned. I know what the ramifications can be of the limited treatment options that exist for our kids. I’ve seen the young athlete battling his way back from a wheelchair to a walker. I’ve seen the aspiring singer suffer such dramatic hearing loss.  I’ve visited the grave of a little girl who spent more of her short 10 years on this earth fighting cancer than she did living without it.

So, I try to not be bitter, I know that cancer is hard for anyone, but I cannot help but want the gold to be as recognizable as the pink. For it to be as supported as the pink.

I at least want it to get to use its whole month, without being crowded out by the pink….

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

The Juggler

I haven’t blogged in what feels like a million years.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s far more that I have so much to say, and not a lot of time to say it with. Add to that the fact that I feel like I’m apologizing every time I show up here because I haven’t blogged in forever, and it’s getting sort of lame! So, no apologies.

I’m not going to apologize for living in the moment over the last few months. And we’ve had some really, REALLY great moments!

We’ve been to Virginia & Florida, spent a lot of time with family, started school, started gymnastics, started football. We’ve run practically non-stop since the first of July, and we’ve loved it.

Right this very moment, however? The non-stop of it all is catching up with me. I’m exhausted, physically and emotionally. I’m overwhelmed, trying to keep my head above water. Classes, work, home, the kids, PTO stuff, I’m juggling a million little balls, and am scared to death I might drop one or two. Some of them are glass, and if they fall, they could shatter into a million irreparable pieces.

Luckily, most of them would just bounce, a few might dent a little, but the majority would survive the fall. The thing is, I don’t want to drop them. I love things about each of those balls I’m juggling, it’s why I picked them up to begin with.

This is the season that I am in, I guess. As we transition from the easy days of summer to the full days of fall, it’s just going to be harder. Certainly until I get back to a point where I can find my rhythm.

Because those balls in the air? They’ll stay that way, with the right rhythm.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Gamers Giving Back–Mario Marathon 6

Guess what tomorrow is?!

Mario Marathon Header

My kids and I are SO excited – Mario Marathon is back for a sixth year raising money for Child’s Play Charity. Child’s Play raises money to provide games, gaming consoles, movies and more for over 70 children’s hospitals around the world, bringing a little joy to kids facing challenging situations.

Mario Marathon is independently run by a group of friends who play the Mario series of games live online and generally do silly things in the name of supporting Child’s Play. Donations go directly to Child’s Play – these guys spend their own money, use their vacation time, give up hours of sleep, sanity and time with their families to support the great work of Child’s Play. The 5 previous events have raised nearly $350,000 (and if you count their Zelda event in 2008, they’ve hit that!), which is amazing.

If you ever hung out with your friends playing Mario in somebody’s basement, you have a pretty good feel for what MM is like. So, you’re officially invited to come hang out with the gang! If you’re so inclined, feel free to donate -you can even do that from right here!

If you’re on other social media, give the gang a shout out. We’ll all be tweeting with the #MarioMarathon tag, and you can tweet @MarioMarathon. You can also find them on Facebook.  Hope to see you there!

Mario Marathon 6 begins Friday, June 21st at 11:00am EST at MarioMaration.com

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

The Truth Behind the “OVEL”

It started out being part of a normal, every day, mundane task. I was washing up a few dishes, standing at the sink, when it caught my eye.

I’m not sure why it did, just then. It had been there forever, a fact verified by the layer of dust across it. I’d stood there at the sink, peeking out that same window countless times. It was always there. I just didn’t notice it anymore.

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I was perplexed by it at first. It was familiar, and yet, it was “off” – I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was… Four beads. Letters. O. V. E. L. The E was even backwards. Covered in dust, neglected. Hanging in the window, obviously meant to shine, it now looked meaningless and out of place.
And then I took it down. I rinsed the strand of beads in the water, dried it off gently to not break the string. I slid the L back to it’s rightful spot. And I smiled.

Because in that moment, I found love.

Our daughter had strung those beads a few years ago. The E was still backwards – it was an imperfect love, but it was love just the same. And once I put a little effort into it, it shone and glistened again in the sunlight.

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I put it back in that sunny spot on the kitchen window. It’s my intention to keep it shining, glowing with it’s colors. But it was reassuring to know that, even if it had been neglected a bit, just a little work had made it imperfectly beautiful again.

Here’s to always finding the love you may have forgotten was there. Here’s to taking a few minutes to make it shine brightly as part of your every day. And here’s to knowing that it’s not meant to be perfect, but that doesn’t mean it’s not perfect for you!

~Linked this one up with PYHO with Shell at Things I Can't Say... Check out some of the other amazing posts...

Friday, May 31, 2013

photographs

I share pictures all the time. I Instagram, I tweet, post to my personal Facebook feed. Big events, little events, everyday life, I’m snapping it on my phone, or grabbing my camera, and sharing it.

Last Friday night, my oldest was celebrating the completion of his years at elementary school. There is a ceremony, and certificates, and t-shirts for the middle school they’re headed to, and it’s a big deal. My mother was travelling, and wasn’t going to be able to be there, but she knew I’d have pictures up on Facebook pretty quick.

Only, I didn’t. I wasn’t really sure why, but I just couldn’t post them. It took me nearly a week to put them up. Somehow, it just didn’t feel… right.

Last night, as I looked through the photos, selecting which ones I wanted to post, I realized why I had waited.  That Friday night, May 24th, was supposed to have been a celebration for all of the kids. Jeep and his classmates, many of whom had been together in that same school for 7 years. It was a great evening.

But after? Later that night? One of those kids had his life changed forever.

His older brother was taken in a tragic accident while living HIS dream of racing cars.

Just a few hours after we had all said our goodbyes to friends, snapped our last photographs, and headed out the doors, full of smiles, hopes and dreams, a family’s worst nightmare unfolded.

And I struggled. I hurt. I hurt for the boy who is in nearly every single shot I took of Jeep because they were standing together. I hurt for the boy who I had grabbed Friday night to hand a print of a photograph I had taken the week before at our Field Day activities. A print that I wanted to make sure he had, one where he was gently helping a special needs preschooler have a blast, and showing such heart and tenderness that it had brought tears to my eyes when I saw it. I hurt for the little sister, who had army-crawled with my daughter along the gym floor so that they could take pictures with their little cameras of their big brothers. I just hurt.

That Friday night should have been full of celebration for that family. There should have been ceremonies and checkered flags and smiles and hugs. There should have been an older brother laughing and telling him stories of football games, and dates, and how to work the lockers at the middle school. Instead, that Friday night will forever be one of heartbreak for them.

I had assumed that I would have the photos posted Friday night, Saturday morning at the latest, but every time I tried to look at those photos, I just couldn’t do it. Yesterday, we attended the funeral – the kids had wanted to be there in support of their friends, so we went. Last night, finally, I posted the photos. Last night, I shared the joy we had together.

We’re reminded that life can change in an instant. Hold those you love close, and focus on the joy. Never forget the heartbreak – often it is what makes us who we are, but FOCUS on the joy.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Pity Party

I’m having a bit of a pity party today. Part of me even has the audacity to feel guilty over my pity party, because really, in the grand scope of things, my stuff is pretty trivial.

But the “my” stuff isn’t really “my” stuff at all. It’s bigger than me, and not something I have a lot of control over, or say in. I’m just along for the ride, and right now the ride SUCKS.

So many of my friends are hurting over so many different things. Last week involved 2 different kids being diagnosed with cancer. This week includes some big changes where a number of my friends work. There are huge, scary, lingering unknowns out there for all of these folks, and I’m hurting and frightened for them. I want to fix things, and make it all be better, and I can’t. And I hate it.

I want to look each of them in the eye and say “It’s all going to be fine!” but you can’t do that. You don’t know that. It’s scary, and overwhelming, and consuming me from the inside.

I’ve cried a lot today. I’ve also had a 3 Musketeers and a Cherry Coke. I’ve used about a million tissues, and undoubtedly look like something even the cat wouldn’t bring in. And none of that is going to change anything. None of that is going to help any of the people who are hurting, and who need some support, or answers, or whatever they need. It’s certainly not making me feel better. But it seems to be all that I can do right now. Cry.

So, I’m going to push on for now. That’s all I can do. Be thankful for the good in my life, do my best to hold up my friends, and push on. What else is there, right?

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Yesterday

It should be such a good week.

It WAS such a good week.

I finally treated myself to a DSLR camera, which I had wanted for a very long time, and just couldn’t justify. It was a want, not a need, and let’s face it moms, wants aren’t typically at the top of our “get” list.

It was finals week, and I was feeling good about my classes, and getting to take a few weeks off before summer session starts.

School is nearly over, and it’s time for the fun, year-end stuff. We’ve been planning a fun trip to an amusement park for the 6th grade, and we’ve had a blast with fundraising. We go on Tuesday, and I’m super-excited.

And then? Yesterday happened.

Part of yesterday I cannot yet talk about specifically. I know that I have friends who are hurting, and that there will be more hurt before healing comes. I’m hurting. A relationship, one that we hoped would grow and flourish, and be wonderful for so many people, is being pulled apart. Not by the parties in that relationship, but by others, higher up, who don’t know. Who don’t understand. It’s painful, and going to get worse.

And after spending time with some of those most directly impacted, wounded by what is coming, I came home and found more bad news.

Naomi, a sweet two year old little girl who lives in my community with her mom, dad, her four year old sister and one year old brother, was just diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Another baby, whose life is now forever changed by the monster that is childhood cancer. Another family, stopped in their tracks, and entering a new normal, on that involves oncologists, MIBG, CT, TPN, DX, stem cell rescue, chemotherapy, radiation, and hopefully sooner rather than later, NED.

It was enough to destroy me last night. I lost it.

Today? It’s enough to strengthen my resolve. Reaffirms for me that, no matter what, I cannot stop fighting for these kids. All the kids.

Tomorrow is a new day, with new challenges and new successes.

I need a few successes for a minute, though. Please.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

The “Why”

Friday night, I was as proud as I could possibly be of my boy.

This guy:
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Became this guy : Jeep's After Picture

And donated this:

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to help a child who has lost their hair to a medical condition. He went ahead and raised money for St. Baldrick’s while he was at it, raising over $3,200.
(I gotta be honest. Right now? Still pretty proud.)
I forget sometimes though that people don’t know why we care this much. Why my son, at 9 years old, decided to grow his hair until it would be long enough to donate. Why he smiled through three years of being mistaken for a girl, and endured endless questions about when he was going to cut that hair.  I hope it helped him that his dad and I were so supportive of what he was doing, that we never hesitated to explain to people that we were incredibly proud of what he was doing and why.
You see, our awareness of the reality of childhood cancers began in 2005, when Jeep was just 4. A little girl in his Sunday School class was diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma, an aggressive cancer of the adrenal system. Her diagnosis came just days before her fifth birthday. Her name is Morgan, and she was our friend. And so? We talked about it. Morgan was sick, and the doctors were going to have to try to make her better. It was going to make her hair fall out, and there would be lots of Sundays that she wouldn’t be at church with us.
When Jeep started kindergarten a little over a year later, Morgan was a first grader at our school, and we saw her after school every day, when she was well enough to be there. You see, the treatment protocol for neuroblastoma involves several rounds of chemo, surgery to remove as much of the solid tumor as possible, maybe more chemo, some radiation, then a bone marrow aspiration in the hopes that they can get clean marrow. Why do they need clean marrow? Because they then attack the body with enough chemical to kill off the marrow still in the body of an innocent child, and then they return the “clean” marrow to the child and hope it sticks.  Then there are days, weeks, months of isolation. The fear of contracting an illness before the marrow has fully recovered is overwhelming. Your bone marrow is what provides you with your immune system, and for a child who is already weakened by chemo, and who has no immune system, a simple cold that inconveniences you or I? It could be a death sentence.
Morgan’s cancer wouldn’t give up, but neither would her family. Her mom and three younger sisters packed up and they went to New York to be part of a clinical trial, hoping that it would be her cure. Lots of times, her scans would show improvement, things would look better and better, and then? A new spot. Another tumor.
Eventually, after fighting for more than half of her life, on October 2nd of 2010, Morgan passed away.
Early in Morgan’s treatment cycle, we connected with another family whose 2  year old was diagnosed with the same cancer, about 2 weeks after Morgan’s diagnosis. The girls underwent essentially the same treatments, just a week or two apart. Colette is a survivor, but the impact of the treatments on her body are still very much an unknown. Her hearing was severely compromised, and she wears hearing aides now. She’s still to young to know for sure what the impact may be for her in regards to her reproductive system, and the risk of secondary cancers as a direct result of the treatments she received are very high.
In 2011, another friend’s son was diagnosed with medulloblastoma, a brain tumor. Again, treatments, surgery, more treatments.
The part that crushes me is that when you see marketing from cancer fundraisers, you frequently will see young kids. What you don’t see, the reality of it is this:
  • There are 12 primary forms of pediatric cancers.
  • 1 in 330 kids will be diagnosed with some form of cancer before they are 20.
  • Most pediatric cancers are treated using lower doses of adult treatments. Research is needed to provide kids with safer treatment options, providing them with a better future.
  • Less than 5% of the federal government’s total funding for cancer research is dedicated to childhood cancers each year.
  • In 2009, the American Cancer Society spent $22 of every $100 raised on fundraising expenses, $6 on management, $14 on research for adult cancers, and spent $0.60 of that same $100 raised on research for childhood cancers. Sixty cents.
  • Worldwide, each day another 720 children are diagnosed with a form of pediatric cancer, and 250 kids lose their battle.
No one asks for cancer. Some make choices that they know carry a higher risk – smoking, sunbathing, etc, but kids?
Kids have done nothing.
Think about the people you know who have been treated for cancer. Think about how sick they were with chemo. The pain in their bodies. The surgeries. The recovery.
Now, imagine that they’re two.
THAT is why we fight. The reality of it is why I’m passionate about it, and Jeep embraced it early on.
Possibly my most favorite part of Friday night was much later, in the quiet of our own home, as we prepared to say goodnight, as I rubbed his fuzzy shorn head, I asked Jeep if he was glad he’d done it.
“Oh yeah.”
Would you do it again?
“Over and over.”

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Home Stretch!

I know I wrote about it a little bit before, but I wanted to throw this out there – we’re just 5 days away from shave day, and have $400 to go to hit our final goal of $3,000!

Incredibly proud of this boy.

www.StBaldricks.org/participants/JeepM

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Overhaul

I clicked over to here the other day, this little space that is my corner in the internet, and looked at my blog. REALLY looked at it. For the first time in a long time. Not as the author, not from the inside, but as someone might who didn’t know me.

Theoretically, I looked at it the same way you do.

I realized how neglected it’s been. I always worry about my lack of writing in this window of time that is the tax season, but I never really worried about how it looked. About it’s visual appeal. I had laid it out in a way I liked, I liked my color scheme, I was proud of the dark text on light background, no captcha and no auto-music.

But I looked at the header, and realized that those kids? I’ve not seen them in a LONG time.  Same with the profile photo of me.  I’ve not done a very good job of updating, maintaining, or developing what I have here.

I’ve grown and changed. My children have as well. What I share in this space is about so many different angles of my life and who I am, who we are as a family, and visually, this space doesn’t really reflect that for me.

So, I’m adding a blog overhaul to my list of things to do after tax season. I’m not going to be able to do much with it before then, but I’m looking forward to playing with it, building it back up, and making it feel like mine again!

And I’ll keep the dark text on the light background, no captcha and no auto-music. Pinky-swear.

Do you have other things you love or hate about blogs you visit? I’m open to tips and suggestions!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Overwhelmed

I'm feeling overwhelmed - both in good ways and not so good ways.
Not so good? Buried in stuff to finish with work. Even that is a positive, though. I have a job, with ample work to do. I'm behind because my husband had a wonderful opportunity arise, and he was away for training, so I was pulling more weight at home than is typical for this time of year. It's not a bad thing, per se, just has added an additional level of pressure I'm not usually facing.
More overwhelming, and in a fabulously positive way, has been the response to Jeep's fundraising event. If you've been here much at all in the past, you know that I have a heart for pediatric cancer research, support and awareness. This has been something that my oldest has embraced as well, and he's been growing his hair out to donate for the last couple of years. Just over a week ago now, he decided that he was ready to donate it, and was going to do so via a St. Baldrick's fundraiser.
We set a modest fundraising goal of $500, figuring that we should be able to attain that in the 7 weeks we had until the event.
We hit it in less than 24 hours. In less than 3 days, we'd more than doubled it. As I write this, we're at over $2,000 raised for the St. Baldrick's Foundation.
That right there? It's a good sort of overwhelmed. He's so excited about the impact he's making. I'm near tears every time I think about it. He's learning some great life lessons about giving back, too. So good.
Yeah. I'm overwhelmed. It's not a bad thing though. I'll take it.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Such a proud momma…

So…

That boy? The one that just turned twelve?

He has insisted on stealing my heart.

I mentioned in his birthday post that he was growing his hair out to donate it. Today he told me this:

On April 26th, we’re going to join some students at Indiana University and he’s going to take part in a St. Baldrick’s event, shaving his head to raise money and awareness for pediatric cancer.

This decision was not one he took lightly, and I’m so impressed with him, I can’t begin to describe it to you. His hair has become such a big part of his identity, and let’s face it, it’s tough being a tween/teen. This was something he slept on, thought about, and decided he was willing to do.

I am so proud of him. I can’t begin to explain it.

Anyway – if you would like to donate, we’d love that, but if you can’t donate, would you consider sharing his donation site via your social media  of choice? Each tweet or FB post reaches out to someone else, and if we raise nothing more than awareness for the kids who are fighting cancer, that’s one more step.

Jeep’s St. Baldrick’s Fundraising Page

Thanks!

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Twelve

Twelve years ago today I became a mother.

It’s hard to believe it’s been that long, and in the very next breath, that day was a lifetime ago.

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Dearest J-

You are technically 2/3rds of the way through my time with you, and in so many ways, we’re just getting started. We’ve hit some walls and climbed some mountains. We’re still learning as we go, you and me, and it’s not always going to be fun, or pretty, or fair, but we’re going to get there. I hope, when we get to the other side of this climb, you remember the fun more than the fight, and can smile from the peak of the mountain, knowing that you conquered the climb.DSC03266

I love the passion you have for the things you care deeply about. Your fierce independence. The stubborn set of your chin. I love watching you interact with young children – your kindness and gentleness with them brings such a peace to my soul.

Always a tender spirit, you are the child who woke me in the middle of the night to ask me if we could donate to the ASPCA after seeing a commercial. You chose to grow out your hair to donate, and help with our various awareness and fundraising events to fight childhood cancer.

The promise and potential you hold within you overwhelms me. I cannot wait to see what you choose to do, and watch you grow into the young man you are destined to be.

I am so proud to be your mom. Thank you for giving me that opportunity.Jeep

I love you to the moon and back.

Mommy

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Time

It’s early, but I’ve been awake for hours. My mind is racing, I cannot rest.

So, I sit, waiting, willing words to come, to flow freely from my fingertips. To share with you the sorrows and joys that have been these last few weeks. And yet, I simply cannot. The words elude me.

I can feel them in my heart, but it’s like that moment when you are struggling for the one word that conveys the  meaning you need – it’s right there, on the tip of your tongue, and yet, that’s where it stays.

A few weeks ago, I received a phone call that my grandmother was ill. As the days passed, it became more and more clear that her time here was drawing to a close. She slipped from this life in the early hours of Saturday, December the 8th, with her husband of 64 years holding her hand, and her children at her side.

Plans were laid out to celebrate her life, and in those days that followed, we celebrated birthdays. My mother, my husband, my best friend’s daughter and another dear friend, all in a span of a few days.

And then, I got another phone call. My grandfather was showing signs of a stroke. Mild, they caught it early, but they were going to keep him overnight for observation. As the day progressed, he improved. We were all optimistic, and even still anticipating that he would be able to travel within a few days and we would hold my grandmother’s services as planned.

We were wrong. The doctors were wrong. And now, we are waiting for angels to carry him home, back to his bride, who undoubtedly is standing next to Peter waiting, smiling, for her husband.

Just hours ago, I posted this. In the last 30 minutes, my grandfather has woken up, despite the doctors dire predictions. He’s awake, he’s talking, laughing with my dad. Truly a miracle this Christmas. Truly.

And in the midst of all this, in the middle of my personal world crashing down around me, a small, sleepy town in Connecticut found their world destroyed by the actions of a young man hell-bent on destruction. 26 lives taken, 20 of them were only six or seven years old. Just babies.

My grandmother was 86. My grandfather is 90. They have lived long, fulfilling lives. They’ve raised children, seen their grandkids play sports, attended performances at the schools of their great-grandchildren. As hard as it is for us to lose them, they have lived. 

It’s so cliché. I know it is. But this past week, possibly more than any other week in my life, has encouraged me to embrace those I love, to spend time with them, to listen to them, to hug them. To be a strength for them when they need lifted up, and to let them lift me when I need that support.

Because they may be 86, or they may be six, but the time we have with them will always feel too short when we’ve reached the end of it.