2nd and 5th

We're about a month in to Logan's 2nd grade year and Aidan's 5th grade year, and so far so good!



I did end up meeting Logan's teacher and she seems really great. Very communicative with the parents and enthusiastic. I love the program she's using for classroom behavior (ClassDojo) because I can see throughout the day exactly how Logan is doing. What's also kind of cool is that Logan's 2nd grade classroom is the classroom I was in for 2nd grade many years ago. :)


Happy about school, mad about the camera in his face :)

And it turns out Aidan did have a friend in his class from last year, we must have just missed him on the roster during open house. Regardless, he's easily made more friends like I knew he would. And he loves the setup they have now in 5th grade where his class is paired with another class and they swap teachers for different subject areas. One does Social Studies/ELA and the other does Math/Science. He likes both teachers and is doing well with his testing so far.


Aidan started off the morning with no sling because his arm was feeling much better, but worried about the bus and worried people would bump into him, so he ended up wearing for the first couple days of school. He's been sling-free ever since.



After what seemed like a bad start to the year, things are really looking up and I couldn't be happier.



PS: 90% of the pictures I took with my good camera ended up completely blurry and unusable, and I'm so mad I don't have a head to toe pic of Aidan for his end of the year side-by-side. GRRRRR! At least I thought to also take a couple of pics with my phone, otherwise I wouldn't have a single picture of the kids together.

Don't Cry

Don't Cry

Please don't cry over my casket
For I am not there
Please don't cry at my grave
My soul has been set free
I know it's hard not to cry
I've been down that road one too many times

I have no more pain
I have no more sickness
And I would not change a thing
As I walk through the gates of Heaven
Mom Dad our brothers and sisters
Will welcome me with open arms
Here I am free of that pain

Don't blame yourself
It was my time to go home
This is where I'm supposed to be
Don't dwell on things which you cannot change
I will always be in your heart

I will always be watching over you
When that day comes for you to come home
I will be there to welcome you
With open arms
And walk you through the gates of Heaven
You will be greeted by our family & friends
Who came home before you
Until that day I will be watching over you.

-Author Unknown

***

It's been two months since my dad passed away, and I can thankfully say that I'm doing much better emotionally.

We had a very small funeral service for him on June 19, which was absolutely gut-wrenching for me. I don't have much experience with death, so even just being that close to his ashes especially after not having seen him in so long was almost too hard to bear.

During his service, I did nothing but heave ugly, loud sobs. I can't even remember the last time I cried that hard. It seemed like every prayer, every word spoken, pulled at every emotion I had buried deep down inside long ago.

The sermon was the hardest, but it was also cathartic in a way. The Reverend didn't know my dad--she only knew him through talking to my mom. But everything she said was perfect.

"Because we are created in God’s own image, we yearn for relationship, and beauty, and a sense of rightness about the world. Because we are human, however, we tend to get off-track. Fear, anger, disease, confusion...all kinds of brokenness can get in the way of our longing for relationship, stability and home."

"...the gifts of connection and stability for which we long were gifts that sometimes eluded him. That is its own particular kind of loss for those who loved him, and we mourn that today as well."

"We yearn for God because God yearns for us, and God has brought Bill home. That doesn’t mean everything will be easy for those of us who remain. There is mourning to do. There may be the work of forgiveness and reconciliation yet to go. We humans always wound each other, even with the best of intentions, and whenever someone dies there may well be wounds that need healing, sorrows that need soothing, joys that need to be remembered."

-The Rev. Sarah Ball-Damberg (excerpts from her funeral sermon for Bill Kehoe)

I debated with myself about whether I would actually go to the service. Part of me thought I lost the right to mourn him when I cut him out of my life. Part of me thought it would be too hard. All of me was scared. And I was right, it was too hard. It was scary. But it was closure. Almost as if the Reverend's words and the prayers we said transformed my tears from pain to healing. I do take comfort that he's in a better place, free from that fear, anger, disease and confusion that plagued him in his life here on earth. As the Reverend said, "Bill is at rest in the God who made him, cherished him, and cherishes him still. Thanks be to God. Amen."

Between May 31 and June 19, not a day passed that I didn't cry at least once. But the poem above, which was included in his memorial bulletin, really resonated with me. My mom told me that it's exactly what my dad would have said, and I am able to take comfort in that. I still have some moments of sadness and pain, of course. I'm still working on healing my wounds, soothing my sorrow and remembering the joys. But time heals. I'll get there.

Funeral service bulletin. Photo circa 1986.

Four years old, and not a baby

This girl, oh my. Sweet, sassy, smart, funny, silly, loud, opinionated, friendly, loving. And now she's four!





When I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she said "I don't know." When I asked her again, she said "Grandma." Another time, she said "chicken nuggets." And then when I asked her yesterday, she held up seven fingers and said "I want to be this many. Like Logan." Well I can't help her with the last request, but the rest was done and done. We had a pool party for Aidan and Lorelai on Sunday with both Grandmas, and then we went to the pool again tonight and had a Chick-fil-a picnic.





Most of me is devastated that there's almost no baby left in my baby. A fact that she's quick to point out whenever I call her baby instead of sweetie, by the way. She just doesn't understand that she'll always be my baby.

“I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
my baby you'll be.”
-Robert Munsch



These days, she likes:

• Going to the pool
• Coloring/drawing
• Super Why
• Watching videos I've taken of the family on my iPhone
• Fairy books (big girl chapter books)
• Baby dolls
• The color purple (just not her purple shoes...???)
• Bossing people around
• Arguing/throwing fits for no reason
• Being held by Mommy

Yes, my big (43lb!) girl still wants me to hold her. And it's still the same request as when she was little--"Mommy, hold you." And even when she wants me to hold her while I'm trying to make dinner or shop for groceries, it's super hard to deny that request. It's just about the only holdover from her babyhood. Sniff.





Age 3 was certainly a challenge, as I expected. But fortunately, I don't think it was as bad as it could have been. We obviously had our fair share of ridiculous typical 3yo behavior, but nothing that made me go insane.



I know we're now out of the woods yet as far as tantrums go (as evidenced by last night's bedtime debacle). But I'm looking forward to age 4. Seeing her emotions mature (hopefully!). Watching as she learns more and gets ready for kindergarten next year. Helping her become more independent. Watching her imagination grow.

She's remarkable, and very loved and spoiled. Happy 4th birthday to my sweet baby girl!

A double digit birthday

Happy birthday to my very favorite 10-year-old! It just blows my mind how we're already into double digits.



At 10, Aidan LOVES to read. His current obsession is Harry Potter and anything Rick Riordan. When he's not reading, in his spare time he likes to swim, play soccer, watch TV or play video games. That's why we have limits on the amount of non-educational technology he has access to for the week. :)

And he's still so friendly and outgoing. I so love that he can make friends easily and isn't hampered by shyness like I am/was. He came home from the first day of school already talking about his new friends. But Logan is still his best friend. Logan and Lorelai are so lucky to have a brother like Aidan.



Every year it never fails―I get emotional thinking about when he was born. In that moment, I couldn't have hoped for a better person to call my son, and he never ceases to amaze me. At 2:06 pm today at work, I looked at the clock and remembered the overwhelming feeling I felt that same moment exactly 10 years ago.



"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose." ― Dr. Seuss

I've always loved that Dr. Suess book. And I love every bit of this simply amazing boy who's growing up right before my eyes. While I miss the little baby he used to be, I can't help but be excited to know the great man he's going to become.

"Kid, you'll move mountains!"



Love you so much, buddy.

Sayonara, summer break

I know many parents won't agree with me, but Aidan and Logan's summer break is just as much a break for me as it is for them. I love having the freedom to go to the pool after work instead of worrying about homework.






Aidan's first time off the high dive. No fear at all. Photo credit goes to my friend Katherine on these since I completely failed to get a single picture at this pool party.


I'd much rather spend our weekends at Frankie's Fun Park riding go karts and playing mini golf instead of doing school projects. Or staying up late doing sparklers and not having to worry about waking up early for school the next morning.








And I love cleaning up after dinner and not having to worry about making lunches. I seriously hate making lunches.

Since I still have to go to work every day, my overall routine isn't that much different, so it's these little "luxuries" I've come to appreciate during every break throughout the year. And inevitably I always wish their summer break was longer than 5 weeks. But such is the life for year-round schools. 



They go back tomorrow. And unfortunately, we're not prepared at all.

The open house last Thursday for meeting the teachers was a huge fail. Work was crazy so I couldn't leave early enough and we completely missed Logan's teacher. So not only does he not know who in the world will greet him on Monday, but I have no idea what school supplies he needs, so we couldn't do our shopping this weekend. I asked the only other 2nd grade teacher there, and she said she couldn't help us since I guess there's not one generic supply list for the grade. I even emailed the teacher with my apologeis and asked for a list, but no response yet. I'm so mad.

To top it all off, for the second year in a row, Aidan doesn't have a single friend he knows in his class. When he realized that, and then saw that in the classroom across the hall, five of his friends are all in the same class with the cool teacher (he has couches and video game chairs instead of desks), he broke down crying. I was heartbroken for him, so I started crying, too.

I want to be optimistic about the school year, but it's really not off to the best start so far. On the plus side, Logan has a few friends in his class from last year, and my first impression of Aidan's teacher is that she seems nice, which is better than the first impression I got from his teacher last year. Small victories, I guess.

Either way, it's back to the grind tomorrow whether we like it or not. At least we enjoyed our break while it lasted!

Fractured

Well I guess it was bound to happen at some point and maybe with three kids I'm lucky it took this long--we have our first broken bone.



Poor Aidan was playing soccer at his summer day camp when someone slide tackled him and he fell. When it was clear that this wasn't some bruise that would feel better with some ice, I took him to an orthopedic urgent care (how handy!) and they determined that he had an upper radial head fracture.

The radial "head" is the knobby end of the radius where it meets the elbow. (via)

 

Thankfully, the doctor said he doesn't like to cast unless absolutely necessary with this type of fracture. So as long as a sling can keep his arm supported and his elbow from moving, he should heal properly without a bulky over-the-elbow cast to completely ruin what's left of his summer break.

We go back for a follow-up x-ray next week and hopefully his bone will be on the mend. I do expect that he'll have to wear the sling for at least 2 weeks, so he may go back to school sporting an extra cool accessory. Eh, it's just a sign of his battle wound so I don't think he really minds. :)

I guess in the grand scheme of things, we lucked out. It's his non-dominant hand, no bones sticking out, no cast, and as long as he doesn't move it, it doesn't hurt. He just has to learn how to do everything one-handed for a while. And both Logan and Lorelai have been more than happy to lend him an extra hand (Lorelai put on Aidan's socks this morning) when he needs it. Awwww!

We just really hope he's well enough by his birthday at the end of the month to actually go in the pool at his own pool party. Fingers crossed...

Goodbye forever, again

I'm not sure how to process my emotions right now, so I'm just going to write.

In the early morning of May 31, my dad died. You can only neglect your health and abuse your body for so long before it just gives up, and that's what finally happened to him.

I got word from my mom on Friday May 30 that my sister had gone down to Florida to be with him in the hospital as he was being moved to hospice care. His liver and kidneys were failing and there was nothing more they could do—it was comfort measures only at that point. They estimated only a few more days. I was a wreck that day, imagining him dying and waiting for the call.

The call came from my mom that very next morning, as I was sitting on the beach with my family for a weekend getaway. I couldn't believe it—he was actually gone. At the same time, I couldn't believe he lived as long as he did, knowing what he put his body through and how bad his life was for many years.



I'm sad—for me, for my mom (though they had been divorced for many years), and for my sister who had to literally watch him struggle for his last breath. I'm mad—that he did this to himself and that it didn't have to be like this. I'm relieved—that he's finally at peace, that he didn't die alone in an alley somewhere with no one to care, and that I can now try to put all the pain behind me and move on.

This is all so hard for me because my dad was an alcoholic, and it destroyed our relationship and his life.

Daddies are supposed to walk their daughters down the aisle, see them get their college diploma, become grandfathers who spoil their grand babies. But that was not my reality, and I mourned the loss of the daddy I wanted and needed a long time ago. And now I have to mourn that loss all over again and it hurts. It hurts more than I ever though it could, given the huge time and distance between us.

I closed my heart to him for good almost 14 years ago—I just couldn't handle the constant heartbreak. Letting him in, forgiving him, over and over and over again, only to be devastated when he fell off the wagon yet again. It hurt too much.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't easy at all. I tried many times to mend fences with him. He went to prison in 1998 for drunk driving (finally!) and it took all the strength I had, but I visited him there, several times, in an effort to reconnect because he was actually sober. But he wasn't out for more than a month before he fell off the wagon again. That was the last straw. I was emotionally unstable (in treatment for clinical depression) and I could not handle the heartbreak one more time.

I thought that was it—I had ultimately made my peace with the estrangement and told myself he was essentially dead to me. I did my best to bury my feelings. I didn't want to talk to him or hear about him. Ever. And it worked like that for the most part.

But now, in his passing, so many feelings have resurfaced, and I'm really struggling with them. I'm still holding onto a lot of anger, disappointment and sadness. I loved my dad, but when he was drunk, he was a totally different person. Thankfully he was never abusive in any way, but I HATED what the alcohol turned him into. It became really hard to separate my hatred for this horrible disease from him—they were so intertwined. I hit a breaking point in high school and I started hating him. I had to put up a wall to protect myself, and hating him was easier than loving him and repeatedly getting my heart broken by the one man who's always supposed to be there for a girl. I know alcoholism is a disease, but as a child I could never understand why I (and my mom and sister who all loved him dearly) wasn't enough to make him happy and motivate him to stay sober. People did it all the time, why not him??

I made my decision before I had kids, but I stuck by my decision because of the kids, once they were in the picture. I knew there was no way I could in good conscience put them through even a sliver of the disappointment or heartbreak I went through.

In time, much of the raw hatred faded. I was still sad, disappointed and angry at times but mostly just indifferent. He was out of my life and I was okay with it. Even better for it, I truly believed (and still do).

But I've found, surprisingly, that it's really hard for me to hate a dead person, especially knowing how much he suffered. And especially knowing that no matter what, he loved me. My sister reassured me that he asked about me and talked proudly of me all the time. That gives me some peace, that he didn't fault me for doing what I had to do to protect myself. And now that I'm a parent, I do truly believe that. I don't know that I could have been convinced before I had kids, but with the perspective I have now, I know that there was nothing I could do to make him stop loving me, because that's how I feel about my own kids.

As far as closure, that about as much as I'll get. I chose not to see him in his final days because I don't believe I could have been strong enough to talk to him or see him like that. But that means I'll never hear him tell me he's sorry. As much as I didn't think I needed that, I realize now that I do.

Forgiveness won't be easy, but I think that's all I can try to do at this point.

This is so hard.

***

Oddly enough, I woke up at 5:08am the morning he passed, an hour at which I'm very rarely up. I was still awake at 5:20am as he drew his last breath, unbeknownst to me at the time. I didn't get an overwhelming sense of him at the time—I figured I was just still upset about knowing he was going to die and anxious/excited for the beach trip, and that's why I was unable to fall back asleep. While I'll never actually know, I'd like to think that he was thinking of me as he lay dying. Somehow that's comforting to me.