Mommy Time

Being a mom nowadays is like a juggling act. I find that it is much busier than when my mom raised my two brother's and myself.I was actually looking forward to the "break" of summer because I knew that organized sports for my two son's and school was coming to end, at least for three months. We can all take a break and enjoy summer. So why now that it is here am I wondering what was I thinking?
My taxi driver hat is temporarily hung but now my entertaining hat is on full tilt. Each day starts with the question," what are we going to do today Mom?" I am lucky to be home with my kids this summer but it can be a challenge keeping everyone occupied, happy and out of trouble. Plus how do I enjoy some of that "me"time to keep myself sane?
When my kids were little I joined the YMCA. They have wonderful daycare and I was able to send my kids there worry free while I got a work out in. I was able to lose the post baby weight, enjoy some "me" time and do something healthy at the same time. Now that my kids are older(Nine and thirteen) we still go to the Y, now they can do their own workout at the weight room designed for kids; there is always a trainer or adult in there so I still can do my thing and the kids can have some fun too.
Another way to enjoy some time for yourself and keep your kids happy is swap with another mom. Find someone who has kids that have the same interests and age group as your own and trade kids. I did this for years when my children were small but it can work great with older kids as well. The kids need to get along and you need to trust the other mom but it can be a great thing. You can go and run errands or go get a haircut in peace while the kids are playing with other kids; then you need to return the favor to the other mom. I set up a swap once a week.
I also am a firm believer in getting my kids involved in whatever daily activities need to be done. Why should I do all of the chores? I have my kids help out with household chores each day. I call it clean up time. They each have a series of things that they must complete before they can go out and play or do whatever it is they want. I give them age appropriate things to do for example, picking up their rooms, taking out trash, cleaning up their bathroom. My nine year old helps out too by running "errands" for me. I might have him go get me some supplies for cleaning or have him water the outside plants.I don't expect perfection on this. The point is everyone pitches in and we get chores done faster and that leaves more time for "me" time.
Reading is a big thing for me. I love to read and realize the importance for my two boys to also partake. So another way I sqeeze in "Mommy" time is by incorporating the 15 minute reading rule. We all take a break and read something in quiet for at least 15 minutes. Who doesn't like summer reading? This encourages a little quiet time for everyone.If your kids are small and can't read on their own encourage them to simply look at the pictures of a favorite book or magazine on their own anyway. If you have older children they can read to the younger ones.
Friends are most important to me so another way to stay connected is to hang with other moms. I always feel better after a lunch out or a night out with the girls. Women need other women, it is that simple. You can compare notes and find out what other moms are doing with their lives and kids by staying connected. Get a babysitter or have your significant other watch the kids for a night or aftrernoon so you can grab a movie or dinner with a friend.
Enjoy your summer and stay sane! Don't ever let anyone make you feel bad for having some time to yourself. You'll be a better person and a better mom for it!

Kelly

Tri Tri Again

Well it has been a little while since I have written in my blog. I certainly have missed you dear blog, just busy the month of May subbing and training for triathon. As soon as the weather breaks I am outside whenever possible.I have had time to reflect on what I wanted to blog about as I am swimming, biking, or running; that is one of the many reasons why I love triathlon.
In April I turned forty four. It was not a significant birthday except for the double digits but for some reason I had some difficulty with the number. I started reflecting on my life and my accomplishments and decided what the heck had I really done? I've raised kids and now they are older. I am trying to return to the workforce but realize my skills need some tuning. I am at a crossroads in my life. Change is good and I usually embrace it but at 44 and only working part time I realized I had some major decisions to face. Do I spend a fortune on school to go back to college to get a teaching degree in which I will spend three years doing so? Do I stay where I am doing the part time thing and trying to make ends meet? How will I balance work and family when everyone has been used to me being home? Will I fall flat on my face?
During runs, bikes, and swims I even started to question whether or not I should continue to be an age group sponsored triathlete. While I have had great success with it and it has kept me sane during so many aspects of life; like when my children were babies or potty training, during illnesses of family and friends, maybe it was time to hang up my running shoes, put away my goggles and bike shoes and get a real job and a real life. Maybe I am getting too old for this nonsense. Maybe I should grow up and trade in the outdoors for more schooling, more inactivity, more mundane because isn't that what being an adult is all about? No, I said to myself, no!
And so I did my first race of the season in June at Pinchot Park in Lewisberry PA. and took second place in my age group. I don't even care about placing( well a little because I don't want to let Hydroworx, my sponsor, down.)Even while I was racing,( my first of four this season), I thought this is my last season, it is time to grow up.
Then after I crossed the finish line and was waiting for results I met some incredible people. The girl who beat me was just in a full Iron man competition in Utah. She said that she had just done it a month ago and here she was doing a shorter distance tri; to her the sprint tri was a mere workout for the day. Amazing I thought,and she was my age. Ah, another crazy person that doesn't let age get in the way. I was already feeling better by talking with her about my own situation.
Next there was a man hanging out with us that had a Beach2Battleship shirt on. I recognized it because I did the 56 mile bike portion with my friends. I commented on his shirt. "Hey," I said, "I did the half iron man last year as a team and we won," I gleamed proudly. He goes,"Great! I did the full Iron man last year." That shut me up! Meanwhile this guy was 60 years old. One of the benefits of tri is that they mark the backs of your legs with your age, well maybe that is not one of the benefits, but that's how I knew he was sixty. He maybe looked fifty! Again I was blown away.
Lastly, before they called my name for awards, I noticed a man standing in front of me. On the back of his left leg in black sharpie there was the number 70. That's right, the guy was seventy years old. Holy Sh--! He was totally in shape and did not even come close to looking his age. I grabbed my medal and as I walked by him he winked at me. That wink sent me to the moon and back again because at seventy this guy was still doing what he loved. I shook his hand and said,"You are an inspiration." He said, no my dear,"you are."
I'm still not sure what to do about going back to school. I'm still not sure about what kind of work I should look for full time or even if I'm ready for full time yet. I'm still not sure how long I'll continue to triathlon. How can anyone be certain of anything? There are risks in everything we do in life. I am certain of one thing. I can not give up triathlon yet. I am certain that no matter what changes my life brings I will continue to be a triathlete as long as I can. I read a statistic that the average triathlete is 37 years old, male, and has a family and a career. Okay so even with full time work I should be able to still continue.
I went home and signed up for the Beach2Battlefront half iron man this November as an individual.I hope I can make the 70.3 miles but that is what keeps me coming back for more; to tri, tri again! Happy Training!

The What ifs of Life

My Dad said it best once. “The ifs can kill ya kid.” What the heck does that mean you ask? We all travel down the road of asking meaningful questions about our lives, call it a mid life crisis, call it self reflection, call it becoming self obsessed. The bottom line is as we get older, we all, at one point or another wonder what if I would have…
Recently I had coffee with a great friend only to learn that she too has said, “what if…” She asked me a tough question which sparked this blog. She asked, “Do you have any regrets about your life?” I didn’t even flinch when I responded, “Yes, I am human.” She continued to tell me her struggles and without revealing our conversation it was as if she opened my head and spilled it out onto the table. I am happy to reveal my thoughts on the subject.
Most of my friends are in the same age group. We all range in our mid to late thirties to forty’s. I think part of the reason we travel down the “what if” road is that we are getting older. We have kids; we all have been married for longer than ten years. We start to question our meaning in all of the carpools, sporting events for our kids, the financial sacrifices with raising families. The question of the day is, is it all worth it?
My friend and I both share one other thing in common on this subject. We have both given up careers and dreams to stay at home and raise our kids. In today’s world most moms’ now work. We are in a minority here. Like my friend, I ask myself what the heck I have to show for myself. I am college educated and worked for eight years before my son was born. I was just getting started when my husband and I decided day care wasn’t the way we wanted our son to grow up. This debate can be seen on any daytime talk show; stay at home mother’s versus working moms, but that is not the main idea of this article.
After my coffee date I started to think about what I’d be doing if I hadn’t been a hopeless romantic and married my husband. Instantly I envisioned myself as a famous writer living in Chicago or maybe Manhattan. I could see my large apartment, decorated perfectly, overlooking the city. I dreamed of a walk in closet as large as my current bedroom filled with Prada shoes and designer suits all color coded. I saw myself being picked up each day by a Town-car and driving to my high rise office only to dine at the finest restaurants during my lunch hour. After my fabulous lunch my Town-car would drop me off at Harpo Studios where I would have a one on one interview with Oprah regarding my new best seller. During this day-dream I almost crashed into a car ahead of me, but that’s another blog.
Last week I turned forty four. During a celebratory drink with my husband and brother- in- law another question was thrown at me. “What would you be doing if you weren’t married to my brother?” asked my brother- in- law. I told him my latest daydream about being a writer in Chicago. “Yes,” he answered. “But you’d be so lonely.” Perhaps, but I still couldn’t quite let go of the bedroom sized closet full of goodies.
This week I had an epiphany all related to the “what ifs.” I was teaching an Intense Speech and Learning Kindergarten class. One of kids was severely disabled. She had the mentality of a three year old but was placed with five to six year olds in the program. While she was delayed and had a learning problem I couldn’t help but think that her life at home was probably not what my own kids had experienced. I don’t know for sure but I suspect after working with kids that there was very little interaction with her parents at home. I suspected that no one had worked with her at all. While I was busy teaching my kids their alphabet and numbers before kindergarten I felt that no one had even attempted to do these basics with her. Her clothes were dirty and she spit at the class to get attention. She clearly had some learning disabilities and just because someone is dirty doesn’t mean their parents don’t take care of them, but still call it instinct.
On a personal level I know about learning disabilities because my own son was delayed with speech and needed services for that as well as occupational therapy as he couldn’t write his ABCs. The difference between my own son and this little girl seemed obvious to me. Although my son was also developmentally delayed, the one noticeable difference was that he could do basic things for himself that I had taught him. He had instruction at home on how to pick up his toys and how to tie his shoes, basic responsibilities that I had demanded from him at home. I felt that this little girl had no structure at home and had not been held accountable for anything including tantrums; it was as if her parents just wanted the school do everything. Again just an opinion, call it an instinct because I didn’t have access to her file as a substitute teacher.
The epiphany was that I realized the importance of the role I had with my own kids as their mother. I was able to teach them things at home and hold them accountable for their actions. I truly believe that the connection between home and school is vital for my kid’s education. I’ve seen first hand as a substitute teacher what the kids that don’t have a good home life can be like. I realized my value again as a person who had given up a career and decided my family was important. I realized that yes it has really all been worth it! This is not a put down by any means on any woman who works and raises a family because I am in fact that woman now; at least part time. This is just a realization that I personally made the right decision years ago.
The bottom line is that no matter what path life takes you we all question and that is okay. I only hope that like myself when you get to the answer you can smile. Ironically enough my husband works for MetLife. Do you know what their slogan is? Buy MetLife for the “Ifs” in Life. I guess we really are meant to be.

More from new story... Food is Love

“Please stand for our Recessional Hymn, Celtic Song of Farewell,” the choir director said. I couldn’t understand why Aunt Deb picked a Celtic song.

***
There was a quiet hum as we gathered towards the back of the church; different groups were waiting to say hello to Dad and Aunt Deb. I spotted Grandma’s next door neighbor Sara, whom we had known for years. Sara had spent many mornings around Grandma’s kitchen table doing the coffee clutch thing. When we were still going to Grandma’s regularly Sara would always be over at one time or another discussing all the things you shouldn’t like politics or religion. Mostly she would complain about her husband Jack who died last year shoveling the driveway.
“Hi Sara,” I said reaching my arms out to give her a hug.
“Rachel. How are you darling? Jessie so glad you made it home. We’ve missed seeing you,” Sara said. Jessie was always the favored. No one missed seeing me.
“Denver is far away, I wish I got back more often,” Jessie swooned. She was milking the Denver geography. The truth was Jessie avoided the family whenever she could.
“Your dad said that she died suddenly. Russell found her at the bottom of the stairs? How awful. Do they know for sure what happened?”
“The doctor thinks she had a heart attack but they won’t know for sure until the autopsy is done,” I said.
“Well it is a shame. I thought she was in pretty good health. I haven’t seen her too much lately. I’ve been helping my daughter and her husband.”
“How is Kelsey?” Jessie asked.
“She is doing fine. Her husband lost his job last year and they’ve been living with me until they get on their feet again. I don’t mind, it’s kind of nice having the kids there since Jack died. Your Grandma hasn’t talked to me too much since Jack passed away. She was mad at me for a while; said I shouldn’t have had him out in the snow shoveling like that.”
Leave it to Grandma to blame poor Sara for her husband’s death. They had been together thirty years and were a close couple. I chalked it up to another awkward moment. I was hoping there wouldn’t be too many more to come.
“Nice seeing you Sara,” I said motioning towards Dad and Father O’Connor. “I need to make my rounds. Come on Jess.”
I noticed Dad and Father O’Connor in deep conversation and I wondered what was going on. I looked towards the front entryway and realized what they were talking about. The parking lot was now covered in what looked like ten inches of snow and it was still falling.
“We are going to have to wait to go to the cemetery,” Father was saying to Dad. “The ground is too snow covered and with the ground frozen…”
The funeral director was standing there now also throwing in his two cents. He was tall and sickly thin with white hair. His skin was so translucent that you could see his blue veins sticking out. He had on an expensive dark suit but it was off somehow like he had dry cleaned it one too many times. Dad had nicknamed him the crypt keeper and rightly so.
“What’s going on Dad?” I said as I approached the group.
“Who are these lovely creatures?” The funeral director said eyeing Jessie and me. His smile was even creepy. His teeth were so white. I envisioned the commercial with the Orbit gum girl with the gleaming white teeth.
“These are my daughters, Jessie and Rachel,” Dad said introducing us.
“It’s a pleasure, I’m Mr. Graves,” he smiled and his eye teeth stuck out. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two peppermint candies. Like we were going to take those, I thought. No way.
“What are we like ten?” I said sarcastically.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter she is still grieving,” Dad shot me a look. Sharon stood by Dad looking mortified.
“I was just explaining to your parents that the ground is too frozen for the burial today. We will have to postpone the graveside service but we can still have the viewing at the funeral home. There is just too much snow right now too.
“Parent,” I said clarifying the crypt keeper. “My mother passed away two years ago. This is Sharon.”
“So sorry,” the crypt keeper said.
“Don’t mention it,” I said smirking.
“At any rate,” he continued, “Everyone should still plan on coming to the funeral home for the viewing. I realize the weather has taken a turn for the worse but we should still be able to fit it in.”
“I haven’t looked outside yet,” Dad said, “What’s it doing out there?”
“It’s really coming down,” I said. “It looks to me like more than six inches. The weather guy was saying we were probably going to get up to six inches but…”
“This wasn’t even called until just before Mass,” Dad said looking at Sharon.
Aunt Deb came over holding her cell phone to her ear. Father O’Connor gave her a look now, finally someone other than me. She ignored him and finished her call. The distraught look on her face said it all. “I just got off the phone with the caterers. They are not going to be able to make it over with the food today.”
“What do you need caterers for?” Dad said.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we have thirty people coming over after the viewing to eat and pay their respects.”
“Right, I just didn’t realize you hired a caterer Sis.”
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Their truck with four wheel drive broke down and they are worried about the storm. They said we could come and get the food but they wouldn’t be able to deliver.”
“I have four wheel-drive on the Subaru, Deb,” I said.
“Let me call back Alfonso and see if we can fit everything in the Subaru.”
“Alfonso? Where are you getting the food from?” I asked.
“Italians Are Us,” she said.
“What?” I said smiling.
“I couldn’t make that up Rachel,” she said walking out into the snow.
Father O’Connor made an announcement to everyone that we would still have the viewing but that the graveside service was cancelled until the storm was over. I was glad he made the announcement and not the creepy funeral director Mr. Graves.
“Where are Dakota and Darcy?” I asked. I noticed that they were no where in sight. People from the Mass were coming out and mingling in the small vestibule area, even though there were only around thirty people here it was creating some noise and confusion. Everyone was realizing that we were in the middle of a snow storm.
“You know kids, they are around somewhere,” Dad said starting to go back into the main part of the church.
“I’ll check the bathrooms,” Sharon said heading to the corner near the front doors of the church.
I followed Dad back into church looking around and then I spotted them. They were crawling around the floor towards the left corner of the church. Darcy was almost all the way underneath the pew and Dakota was sitting up in the seat. Lucy was standing over them humming.
“There you guys are,” I said. “We’ve been looking for you two.” I made eye contact with Dad who was on the other side of the church now. “Got em,” I tried to whisper.
“I let them play with my car from McDonald’s,” Lucy said smiling. “They were giving away carrrrrs,” she said dragging out the word. “I love carrrrs,” she said. I realized she was humming, I’m lov’in it, the McDonald’s theme.
“That’s great Lucy.”
“Yeah, Lucy is the best,” Dakota said grabbing the tiny matchbox from Darcy.
“STOP!” Darcy screamed.
“Darcy, you can’t yell in church,” I explained. With that I heard Aunt Ellen’s voice in the background.
“Where is she? She’s just like an eight year old. I can’t leave her for a second,” she bellowed.
“I think your mom is looking for you,” I said to Lucy.
“I like carrrs. I want to play with the boys. Tell her to go to hell,” Lucy said. It didn’t take too long to realize where she had learned her language. Aunt Ellen’s voice carried into the church and she was screaming at the top of her lungs now, “Where the hell is she!” I saw Dad scurry out the doors to find Aunt Ellen. Once again Aunt Ellen managed to cause a scene.
“Come on you three, there are people looking for you,” I said. “Time to go.” I pulled Darcy out from under the pew. “Party is over.”
“Party is over!” Lucy chimed.
We found our way out front again and Jessie made eye contact with me. Her eyes sparkled with relief when she came over and grabbed Darcy and Dakota. “So do you believe this? We are in the middle of an unpredicted Nor Easter. We can’t bury Grandma and people are bailing as fast as they can because of the snow. Grandma is probably orchestrating this storm with the gods today. That would be just like her to create drama,” Jessie said.
“Come on, Grandma is gone. She has nothing to do with this.”
“I know but she did seem to always attract unnecessary chaos at most of our family events. Remember the last family reunion at Dad’s cousin’s house? She showed up three hours early and told all of us to come then? Poor Betsy, she was so taken aback that we all showed up and nothing was ready.”
“Yeah remember the grand finale of her falling when she went to smoke a cigarette? The neighbors stood outside watching EMS testing Grandma for a concussion.”
“Grandma insisted that I get in and swim with Brian’s four year old before she fell. When I told her I didn’t have a swim suit she badgered Betsy to borrow one for me. I went to sit at Grandma’s table with Aunt Ellen and she had four swim suits which she held up in front of everyone. Meanwhile I had my period and really didn’t want to swim. The whole day was so embarrassing!” I said.
The crowd stood in the vestibule and some were talking to Dad about the viewing. Dad made an announcement then. “I want to thank everyone for coming today. I realize the weather has taken a turn. We will have a viewing at the funeral home. The funeral home is short drive from here on route 114 in Mechanicsburg. You are welcome to follow me or the name of the home is Malpezzi.”
While everyone contemplated what their next move was going to be I too was wondering why I volunteered to go pick up the food. I was a glutton for punishment sometimes. I made eye contact with Jessie again. “How far is it to the caterers?”
“ Aunt Deb said that it's not far,” she said. “It’s actually close to the funeral home. You could grab everything and then come to the funeral home.”
“What about keeping the stuff hot?” I asked.
“No, we can reheat everything when we get to the house. Deb asked them if they could prepare it that way since they couldn’t deliver.”
“If I’m going to do this I should go now. The snow is not letting up and we have a small window before everyone starts showing up at Malpezzi’s.”
“You sure you’re okay with this Rachel?”
“No, but I’ll survive. Plus I’m dying for a cigarette and if Dad sees me smoking he’ll have a fit.”
“I love you. Be careful, see you over there.”


The Subaru cranked up and I searched through my CDs to find the one that was just right. I pulled out Simon and Garfunkel’s greatest hits and forwarded to Sounds of Silence. I felt the heat kick in as I turned on the wipers. I sat watching the blades catch the snowflakes that were washed across my car window. I lit a Marlboro light and rolled down my window.
Driving was so therapeutic. I listened to the words of the song and took a deep drag off of my cigarette. I wondered if Grandma was up there somewhere, looking down on us right at this moment. I wondered if she was trying to scream something at us but we couldn’t hear, we were silent soldiers doing our best to get her buried but maybe she didn’t want to be, maybe she wanted to tell us one last thing.
The song screamed, ’Fools,’ said I, ‘you don’t know silence like a cancer grows.’ ‘Hear my words that I might teach you; take my arms that I may reach you.’ But my words like silent raindrops fell, and echoed in the wells of silence.’ I wondered if being dead was like being in a dream; you could see and hear everyone but they couldn’t see or hear you anymore.
Part of me did think that Grandma was responsible for this snow storm; she would never want a funeral like this. Aunt Deb had planned the whole event.She wouldn’t want any attention drawn to herself. She didn’t even like her picture taken. Aunt Deb had said that the casket would be closed and that there would be a picture of Grandma. But Aunt Deb couldn’t even find a current picture. The one that would be shown was of Grandma, before she was married; standing outside of the university she never graduated from.
Grandma had been one year from graduating when she became pregnant with my dad. This was one of the reasons Dad gave for her not being a happy person. Her dreams were forced to be let go of when she got pregnant. She was forced into marrying my grandfather and apparently he wasn’t her first choice.
As I was deep in thought my car spun around. I found myself struggling to keep the Subaru on the road and then as fast as I had spun around I was sliding backwards into a ditch. I tried to remember my driving rules; steer into the turn, no steer out of turn, I told myself. My car stopped and I was down below the road in a small ditch which left me no room to maneuver my way out, so much for four wheel drive.
I put the car in park and got out to assess the situation. I was a few feet from the road but the ditch was deep enough that I didn’t think I would be able to get out. In the back of my hatch I had a scraper which wouldn’t help me dig the snow out from under my wheel. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Jessie; no answer. I tried Dad’s cell phone and it also went to voice mail. I was just a few miles from the funeral home, on a fairly decent road back in a neighborhood, I decided to sit tight. Someone would see me.

Happy Birthday Bryce, You are Thirteen!

It's hard to believe that thirteen years ago I gave birth to my first child and now he is a teenager. He was only five pounds and fifteen ounces and he looked like a little bird. The doc kept telling me that I was going to have an eight pound baby and I was glad as I had gained forty pounds so I figured at least eight of those forty was coming off as soon as my bundle of joy was born.
I read all the parenting books and thought I had it together when it came to having a baby and raising a child. Boy was I wrong- literally I thought I was having a girl; for nine months I swore that Bryce was going to be Jessica Grace. I did have the option of seeing what the sex was but I wanted to be surprised even though I was 99 percent sure it was a girl.
Three days after my bundle was born my mother- in- law showed up,even though my husband and I specifically asked her and my family to give us a week or so to get used to having a new born home. We spoke too soon as dear mother-in-law showed up as soon as she could get a ride down to us in North Carolina. The funny part was that she was so consumed with seeing the baby but she never came to visit when it was just the two of us. Her response was always,"Why would I ever want to visit you? I've seen my son his whole life." And so began my long and arduous relationship with my husbands mom.
As a new mom you don't have a clue; at least I didn't. I expected perfection right off the bat. This baby will be on a great eating and sleeping schedule, I'll have everything completely organized and I will look like the cover of Parenting Magazine when I take my son out in his new fangled stroller for the first time.I'll be the perfect breast feeder. I'll be the envy of all my friends as I'll have the mother thing so under control. And another thing, my life is not going to change!
I was completely in denial of what motherhood would be. I learned fast though because by day two I was exhausted from staying up all night. He had his days and nights mixed up. Every night at five o'clock he would scream bloody murder; apparently this was colic or fussy time according to the pediatrician. My milk had come in; surprise, forgot to put the pads in my bra and walla my shirt was stained on the front at the Harris Teeter Grocery Store as I shopped for whatever items we needed for the arrival of my mother-in-law. I had accidentally announced to the world that I was in fact a breast feeder!
By day three, I hadn't showered, my house looked like a tornado hit as all of the gadgets that we had received at my lovely shower were strewn all over. There was the swing that I "haaaad" to get according to my friend Nichole who gave me the shower. The only problem; I couldn't use it yet because he was so small, I realized the age requirements as I tried to put him in it and he almost fell through the leg holes. Rule number one: read the instructions on baby items. I would do anything to get him to stop screaming from five o'clock to seven but the swing was out. Once he was big enough for it he hated it anyway.
Thankfully, my wonderful husband didn't mind walking our beautiful baby around for two hours at a clip. That was probably why he was so tired in the middle of the night that he never seemed to hear the baby crying for that one am feeding; not that he could have helped there anyway. Another lesson learned; pump your breast milk, then there are no excuses, anyone can help with the feedings. The call to Fisher Price hotline completed that day when the three of us passed out as Bryce slept the entire night in the bouncy seat. I thought the vibration would have damaged him but the lady on the other end of the phone assured me things were just fine as long as he was strapped in. The bouncy seat became my new best friend.
But like any mom I survived the first few weeks which turned into years and it did get easier. Once I put down What to Expect the First Year I soared to new lengths of motherhood. I would catch myself when no one was looking, going to the table of contents of the book trying to look up whatever problem I had. I finally realized that having and raising a baby cannot be done by reading an instruction manual although I was sure I would find the answer. One night after my mother-in-law had insulted me for the twentieth time, after all she had seven, how come I couldn't handle one? I calmly put What to Expect in the back of my closet in my family room, high on a shelf and closed the door. I would figure it out; and I did.
Through all the years of raising my first child and then a second I learned so many different things; like everyone wants to give you advice. Once I was at Marshall's, shopping and Bryce was teething. I was letting him chew on my key chain, not the most sanitary thing, but hey he was safe and happy and I could actually look at something other than diaper cream and breast pads. A man came up to me and said how cute Bryce was and of course I beamed. "Thank you," I said smiling. That's when he went in for the kill. "I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on that, it's very unsanitary and it could hurt his gums." Dude get lost is what I thought and then all of the sudden the guilty mom voice popped into my head telling me what a terrible mom I was. No one tells you of the inner guilty mommy voice in What to Expect When you are Expecting. I was going to write the author a letter and tell her to please add that to her book of knowledge.
Bottom line, motherhood has been like a roller coaster, so many ups and downs. The best part is seeing your child grow and develop into a really neat human being, and that is exactly what Bryce has become. I am so proud of him today and always! Motherhood is a journey, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, a marriage of sorts without the shit- well not that kind of shit. The one thing about motherhood is that it is forever. You can leave a friendship but motherhood is always. Thank you Bryce for giving me the privilege of being your mom! And oh, by the way, Happy Birthday kiddo, you are the greatest thirteen year old I know. I know you'll read this someday and be mortified. Sorry, that's what we moms do:)
P.S. Stay tuned for life with Bryce as a toddler and early elementary years.

More from my new story... Food is Love( scroll back to view the previous pages)

The snow was not predicted so when we awoke to Darcy and Dakota running around the house screaming, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing,” we were surprised. I was more surprised to see how excited they were about snow since they live in Denver.
Jessie was already in the kitchen making coffee and getting the boys breakfast. “So you guys don’t get snow in Denver?” I said sarcastically.
“Funny. We just haven’t had a whole lot this year.”
“They weren’t calling for this, although February is our prime time for snow. What time is the funeral?” I asked.
“Noon,” Jessie answered.
“Did you check the weather yet?”
“I did,” Aunt Deb was standing in front of the doorway. “Looks like we’re going to get four inches; no big deal; they’ll have this cleaned up in no time.”
Dad and Sharon sauntered in. Sharon was still in p.j.’s with hearts all over them.
“Celebrating Valentines already?” I asked. “Isn’t a little early for that, we still have a few weeks?”
“I like hearts,” Darcy said munching on his Ego waffle.
“Me too,” Dad said wrapping his arms around Sharon.
“I get first dibs on the shower,” Jessie said.
“No let me go,” I said, “then I can keep on eye on my two nephews.” I winked at the two of them. Darcy smiled, Dakota stuck out his tongue. Perfect I thought.

I took Jessie in my car with the two kids. I was happy not to have Dad and Sharon tagging along. I could not take one more question from her. How was my job, how did I like my apartment, why wasn’t I dating anyone, did I like living in Pennsylvania, on and on. As soon as I answered one question she was firing another. I wanted to ask her; hey did you know my mom just died of cancer two years ago?
My sister was like a mind reader sometimes. I was being too quiet when she asked, “So what do you think of Sharon?” I knew she was being facetious.
“You know exactly what I think of her.”
“I know you don’t like anyone that Dad dates. Remember the last one? You nick- named her Tweety bird because she had really short, blonde, spiky hair.”
“Oh yeah, Dad met her on one of those online dating services,” I laughed.
“Don’t knock it until you try it. My friend Jill just got divorced last year and she swears she has found her soul mate on Match.”
“I’m glad I have four- wheel drive on this thing, the snow is still coming down, and it looks like more than four inches to me.”
“Did you like the dessert that Aunt Deb made last night?”
“How can you think of food now Jessie?”
“Those lemon cookies were Grandma’s recipe. It made me think of the time when we spent the night with her; you were like nine and I was around eleven. Remember we ate an entire tin of those cookies and then you puked? We tried to hide it because Grandma was in a bad mood and she busted in the bathroom anyway when we told her to go away?”
“Yeah, I remember. Do you remember what she said?”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“She goes, ‘That’s what you get when you make a glutton of yourself.’”
“Yeah and then she told us to clean up after ourselves. She went to bed after that because I was trying to get some Ginger ale or Sprite for you and she wouldn’t answer her door.”
“What was she so mad about anyway?”
“I don’t know but the next day she threw the garbage can from the bathroom up the stairs at me,” Jessie said.
“What?” I asked.
“She didn’t say anything but she looked at me from the bottom of the stairs and then she threw the little garbage can from the hall bathroom up the stairs at me and walked away.”
“What was that all about?”
“I guess she wanted me to empty the garbage or at least put the can back for her.”
“Can you say weird? Can you say anger management?” I said laughing.
“I know she had her ups and downs you could say. She could be sweet when she wanted to be. I think she was angry with Uncle Russell all the time. Dad said that it was good that he was there with her but I wonder.”
“I’ve gotta pee,” Darcy said from the backseat.
“Okay, we’re almost there kiddo.”
The funeral was at St. Joe’s church in Mechanicsburg, which I didn’t quite get until I asked my dad about it. There were plenty of Catholic churches closer to Aunt Deb’s house. Dad explained last night in between courses that Grandma had banned the other Catholic Church, St. Michael’s, which was much closer, because she had had a falling out with the priest there. He wasn’t ordained before Vatican Two Dad explained and she had too many problems with modern day priests.
I recalled another memory of my grandmother making a bee- line directly to the priest at our church. She caused the line to get totally screwed up for communion because she would not take communion from a Eucharistic minister, who was a woman. Grandma believed that there was no room for women on the altar.
As I drove towards the church I realized how hard it had begun to snow and I was worried about the roads. Our brilliant weather guy, Steve Austin, did not predict the snow. I dropped off Jessie and the boys at the door. “I’ll be right in. I’m going to park,” I said. I secretly wanted a minute to collect my thoughts before going into to Mass.
I turned on the radio for a second to see if I could hear anything more about the weather. The man said that this wasn’t predicted but the weather pattern had changed and there was a storm coming up from the South and we could accumulate up to six inches. The ground was covered and it was still coming down. I wondered when it would stop. I took a flask out of my purse and took a big sip. The peppermint Schnapps burned my throat. It was only ten forty five in the morning but I figured it was five o’clock somewhere and I needed to take the edge off. I locked up the Subaru and went inside.
St. Joe’s was built in the early 1950’s but they have had many changes and renovations since then. The church is modern now with a large school attached. The big claim to fame with this church is the replica of the San Damiano Crucifix. The original hung in a chapel in San Damiano Northern Italy. Francis Bernadone came to pray in that church and the story is that he heard a voice from that crucifix that instructed him to repair the little church. He had found his vocation and he had begun to be St. Francis of Assisi. The replica of this crucifix now hangs over the altar. The only reason I know this is because one of the few times I stayed overnight with my grandma she made us go to church here and we had to go to the children’s mass where they explained this to us; for some reason I always remembered it.
As I entered church my dad was standing in the back talking to the priest. I heard dad say, “What happened Father? We were supposed to have Father Walton.”
I recognized Father O’Connor, the younger of the two priests in the parish, talking to Dad. Then I heard Father O’Connor say, “It seems your mother was quite spirited. She had told Father Walton to go to hell at her last reconciliation. Father sent me. He said it would be best.”
Figures, Grandma even ticked off the very priest she was supposed to have at her own funeral! I couldn’t wait to tell Jessie that one. I gave Dad a small smile and he motioned for me to go in; which I gladly did. I could tell poor Father O’Connor was uncomfortable.

The church was intimate and in a semi circular shape so you can see the whole congregation from wherever you are seated. The altar is pretty without being overdone or pretentious. I found Jessie and the boys up front. Aunt Deb and Uncle Jack sat in the pew behind them. The church probably would hold around one thousand or so parishioners but I was astonished at how empty the church was. The service was supposed to start at 12:00, in less than fifteen minutes, and there were only around twenty people here. Half of the twenty were family, so where the hell was everybody, I wondered?
“Aunt Rachel?” Darcy was pulling on my sweater.
“What babe?” I answered.
“You smell like peppermint. Mommy, Aunt Rach smells like peppermint candy.”
“Give him a mint.”
“I don’t have any,” I whispered. My sister raised her eyebrow at me. “If you want to meet me in the bathroom…”
“What are you talking about?”
I flashed my flask in my purse.
“You are unbelievable. Actually that was kinda smart.”
“Where is everyone?”
“You know Grandma. She had a beef with everyone in town. She even managed to tick off her best friend Mary- Grace. Poor Mary-Grace has cancer and she told her to toughen up and get a life recently.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dad told me earlier when I asked where she was today. Dad just said that Mary is still kind of mad at Grandma for giving her such a hard time when she was going through chemo and she didn’t know if she’d make the Mass today.”
“Whoa.”
Father O’Connor made his way to the altar and the music started. “Please rise for the Opening Hymn, Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” she said. The woman leading the singing today had been the choir director at this church for years. I remembered her from when I was little. The opening prayer was from Ecclesiastes 3:1-11: “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven; a time to be born and a time to die… The word of the Lord,” said Father O’Connor.
“Thanks be to God,” we chimed. You could tell who was not Catholic as those people stood not knowing what to say.
I just kept thinking of the song by the Byrds, Turn, Turn, Turn, and what a rip off it was from this bible verse. I wondered how many people knew that the pop hit was based on Ecclesiastes. I couldn’t focus to hear what Father was saying and I guess I started to hum because Jessie gave me the mommy look again. Dad and Sharon who sat at the opposite end of the pew were now looking at me.
“What?” I whispered to Jessie.
“You are humming that old song by the Byrds.”
“Sorry,” I said. Darcy who sat next to me grabbed my hand to hold. Leave it to him to find a caring moment. He did have his sensitive side. I smiled at him.
“It’s okay Aunt Rachel,” he said.
I finally focused in as Father was saying that while life lessons are important, the life after we leave Earth is much more important, and although our loss is hard, the important thing to remember is that with death we are reborn and joined with Christ. As I sat thinking about this statement I realized that maybe that was why Grandma was so mean. She didn’t care what was going on here as long as she got to heaven. I guess that’s why she was always so concerned with getting to Mass.
My mind drifted back to one of the times Jessie and I had come to Mass with Grandma. Everyone was in a rush to get out once Mass had ended. The parking lot turned into a mini Indy Car Race as everyone juxtaposition to be the first car out. Grandma had rammed into her neighbor’s brand new Volvo that morning and cursed the whole way home. I remember asking her why she was in such a hurry to get to church but even in more of a hurry to get out of church. She simply said, “I’ve gotta get dinner on.” That was one thing about Grandma; she was always cooking.
Then suddenly from the back of the church there was loud screaming. Dad’s Aunt Ellen stood in the back of the church scolding her daughter Lucy. Lucy was born with Down syndrome. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at Lucy. Lucy was standing there looking like she’d lost her best friend. Dad looked mortified. This was typical Aunt Ellen, she never entered anywhere unnoticed.
Father was about to finish his Homily and have the family come up to say a few words about Grandma. He looked to the back of the church. “Everything alright?” he said.
Aunt Ellen yanked Lucy into the main part of the church and sat in the back. “Oh, nothing Father,” she said.
Father looked horrified and cleared his throat and said, “Some of the family and friends gathered here today have prepared a few words about their beloved mother and friend. I believe Debra would like to speak first.”
“Ann Castellato was a complicated woman. She was often misunderstood. As her daughter I knew just how complicated she was. We had a typical mother-daughter relationship. She was always right and I was always wrong…”
I nudged Jessie and said, “This is not exactly how I would want to be remembered.”
“Aunt Deb is starting out a little rough.”
The congregation was stirring and there was a little laughter from Aunt Debs’s description of her relationship with Grandma. I looked behind me to see a few more people in church than when Mass had started and I even saw Mary-Grace; she had shown up after all.
Aunt Deb continued on saying that Grandma was a challenging person. I kept wondering when we were going to hear about what a kind hearted woman she was or some kind of charity work she had done, but Deb was stretching. It was a brutal eulogy finally ending with her saying, “And so no one is perfect, especially my mother, but at least she is in a better place now and hopefully happy.”
“Remind me to hire a different speech writer if Aunt Deb is going to speak at my funeral,” I said whispering to Jessie.
“I was thinking the same thing. She really didn’t have one positive thing to say about Grandma.”
More of our family went up to eulogize our grandmother and it was much the same as Aunt Debra. No one had any one thing to say that was memorable or even portraying Grandma as someone other than a jerk. I knew she was difficult but this was unbelievable.
Then from the back of the church, a Mail Carrier, still in his uniform, came up to speak. “Hello. My name is George and I was Ann’s Mailman for the last twenty years. Ann rarely ever talked to me…”
Jessie and I looked at each other and I could only hold my head. I hoped this eulogy from the mail carrier wouldn’t be a brutal as the rest had been.
He continued, “But each year at Christmas she would always have something for me out in the mailbox. Many of the people in her neighborhood would leave me hot cocoa or cookies or candy but Ann always left me something special. This past year there was a note in the mailbox in her perfect handwriting that read, for George, good for one dinner at my home, Merry Christmas.”
All I could think of was the fact that Grandma did nothing but complain about the mailman. She would say, “That bastard can’t even bring my packages to the door. He leaves them out in the driveway for me. Doesn’t he know that an old woman lives here...?”
One year after a bad snow storm he left her a diagram in the mailbox of how to shovel around the mailbox so he wouldn’t have to get out of his mail truck to deliver. I elbowed Jessie again, “Are you listening to this?”
“This takes the cake,” she said.
He continued, “I went to the door that day to redeem her offer and she stood smiling. I really didn’t believe it but when I showed her the note she insisted I come on Christmas Eve. Somehow she knew that my wife had recently passed away and that I was on my own. She made a dinner fit for a king; a standing rib roast, home made potatoes, fresh horseradish sauce, cranberry relish from scratch, brussel sprouts and bread she had baked that morning. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me since my wife had passed away…”
I drifted off while he continued wondering what provoked Grandma to do this. I wondered where Uncle Russell was on Christmas Eve. While I was happy someone had something nice to say my emotions were raw. George the mailman was the only person whose eulogy portrayed my grandmother as slightly human.

Try this!

Hello,



Try this; think of someone or something and within forty eight hours that person or that event that you were thinking of will come back to you in some form. My husband and I have been doing this "mind" exercise for the past year and it works. Most of you reading this are probably wondering where this is coming from and what have I been smoking or drinking?

Last year my husband had a motivational speaker named James Spooner come and speak to his insurance reps. James is the owner of the Bentley Club in Harrisburg PA. In very simple terms he coaches people on the power of positive thinking and how anyone can earn the riches they want. His philosophy is based on the Napoleon Hill Foundation or the law of attraction; which is based on an essay written by Andrew Carnegie called the Gospel of Wealth.

My husband told me all about this guy Spooner and I was skeptical at first. But then we started playing this game where we think of someone or something and it almost immediately comes back to us or at least within forty eight hours. Let me give you an example. We had a huge snow storm last weekend here. I was watching the weather channel and my husband was outside shovelling snow. I watched a segment stating the importance of checking our outdoor heating unit for excess snow. The reporter said to make sure that you clear off your unit otherwise the weight of the snow could cause an unnecessary shut down of your furnace and that would not be fun during a nor'easter.

I hollered out to my husband and told him to check the unit; he smiled and said,"Spooner." I asked him what he meant and he said our neighbor had just given him the same information. Another "Spooner" philosophy is that everything is connected and there are really no coincidences. Later that day I had mentioned an old favorite movie of mine that had not been on in a while and later when we were flicking around there it was listed on the guide as being on that evening. That same day I had thought of my dad in Florida and how I needed to call him. As I was walking in the door from the grocery store the phone was ringing and it was my dad giving some information that I had suspected; my step mom is really sick. I suspected something was wrong when I hadn't heard anything from them in weeks.

Now you are probably saying, so what. Yeah things like that happen to me all the time. They are called coincidences. Maybe so but as I started thinking more and more about it I realized that the more you pay attention to this stuff the more it happens. When we first started the experiment it was maybe once a week, now it is daily. Why is this important you ask?

Part of the other Spooner or Napoleon Hill foundation is that we have the power in our minds to make things happen. Whatever your mind can conceive and believe your mind can achieve. You can achieve whatever you put your mind to regardless of your education or your past failures but you have to have positive thinking. We are all energy and the energy we put into the world is what we become. Remember Negative Nancy in one of my past blogs? There's a prime way to put negative energy into the world.

There are some key things that you need to do in order for this to work and the first thing is to write down in a notebook what it is you want to succeed at. Next you need to write down what you will give back to society as a result of your success, then you need to memorize both statements and repeat daily. Lastly,and this blew me away as I have recently written a blog on gratitude( again there are no coincidences) , you need to say a prayer of gratitude. The prayer goes something like this: I ask not for more riches but for more wisdom from the gifts I've been given at birth. We have all been given gifts at birth we need to remember what they are and put those gifts into motion; the first step is believing in our dreams! You must believe and then take action to put it out into the universe, the rest will take care of itself. Think of the possibilities!Now there is one other part to this and that is that you have to be open to it and if you are not then it will not work.

Why does this matter? I wanted to share with all of you this information as I want to become a successful author, in doing so I will give back by entertaining and informing a large audience, and I will give back by being able to donate money to important charities for children. It seems so simple and I believe it can really happen.

I think of my life with my husband. We started from humble beginnings. He has bought into this idea of positive thinking for years. He is a successful manager in a large firm; he struggled for years but once he told himself over and over that he would be successful then it happened.

I think of how many successes I've had as a triathlete. There is one thing I say to myself over and over as I am racing: I am going to finish, I am not going to be last and I have trained for this so I can win. Guess what? I have finished, I have not been last, and I have won my age group many times.

One last powerful example. A family member almost died before Christmas, in fact many family members said goodbye. It was the belief of one doctor that gave everyone hope that he could possibly make it back. Family members believed he could make it back from a coma and he did; in a short eight weeks time! The power of positive energy along with the grace of God sent him home this past Friday.

Whatever your mind can conceive and believe your mind can achieve. Try it!



I believe!
Kelly