This Mother's Day

Childbirth isn't easy; it is filled with pain, uncertainty, fear, excitement, exhaustion, and love. Despite the awesomeness of its occurrence, the change that it forces upon women-mothers- the physical and mental shift in wholeness and awareness, despite all of this, women continue to lay upon beds, sit in tubs, etc in order to bring into the world the little creatures who they have created. Birthing a child takes an extraordinary amount of strength, passion, love, inner steel, and faith, and so would seem to be the most difficult job one could ever have. However, it is not. In fact, it is nowhere close to the most difficult role a mother can face in the life of her child. The most difficult job is not providing your child an entrance into our world from your womb, but rather it is providing your child with an exit from our world into the unknown.

I have been blessed with the opportunity to watch a woman who, stoic and strong, brushed her daughter's hair from her face, wiped the sweat from her daughter's brow, and repeated a mantra of undying love into her daughter's ear. Her daughter, frail and forty, tucked in to sheets and covered in oxygen masks and medications designed to alleviate her pain, was leaving her, leaving us. This mother grasped at the few moments she was given and held them dear, held them tight, and, despite being surrounded by wounded cries and loss, was a mother- she cared for her child, held her child, hoped for her child, all the while acting the part of the strength in her child's world. That role so quickly reprised, mother to child, caretaker of a swaddled infant, a swaddled woman. 

To watch this mother relive those moments of forty years past was a privilege and a sight so vulnerable that I had to look away for fear of tarnishing the precious, precious moments the two were sharing as this woman's daughter stole her last breaths. To think that this mother had always seen her light go out long before her daughter's, that she had planned on having her daughter brush her hair back, wipe the sweat from her brow, and whisper "I love you" in her ear, and now, now...now she had to fight the innate urge to battle the force tearing the life from her child and, instead, help her child walk the path to where the light ends. 

For the last few hours of her daughter's breaths, this mother dampened, folded, and held a wet cloth to her daughter's face and neck, "Here, my darling, this will help, this will make you fel better." For hours. For the last few hours of her daughter's breaths, this mother held her tongue and her place while others from her daughter's life borrowed some of that precious time. For hours. For the last few hours of her daughter's breaths, this mother questioned every decision she had ever made, every word she had ever spoken, every smile she had ever held back, and asked herself if she could ever forgive herself for any of them. For hours. 

She took to the corner while her daughter's spouse cried and held her tight. She took to the corner while her daughter's best friend held them all aloft with her strength. She took to the corner when I whispered my thanks to her daughter for allowing all of us to share this time, this love, and this pain with each other. She took to the corner. At no point in a mother's life does she expect to slide out of the way and let someone else take the reigns...but this mother did. Despite the agony of relinquishing those moments to others, others who had known her daughter a mere moment compared to a lifetime, despite the torture of knowing that her hand may not be the last one her daughter felt holding for love, this mother took to the corner and did what the most passionate mothers do for their children...she shared with the world the greatest gift she could afford - her daughter. All of us in that room, in those last few hours, owe to this mother a debt of love for having been among the few to receive the gift of time from a mother who had so little of it left to share.

On this Mother's Day, it is this mother's moments that will be at the forefront of all that is maternal and true. Her first Mother's Day no longer as the mother of a beautiful, brilliant, living woman, but as the mother of an ethereal, ingenious, eternal memory. She is an inspiration to all of us who have people in our lives who refer to us as "Mom" or "Momma" or "Mommy" or "Ma". She has shown me that, truly, a mother's love is selfless and all-encompassing, it is gracious and strong, it is the backbone of any moment in time, and it is endless. 

On this Mother's Day, I think if my mother, my grandmothers, and all of the mothers I have in my life and hope that they have had (or had) the blessing of seeing, in themselves or others, the true spirit of motherhood the way in which I saw it in the grace and poise this mother held while she whispered good-bye to her daughter. I know that her daughter felt that love in those last touches and whispers of kisses and I know that she still basks in it their glow, wherever she may be. 

On this Mother's Day, I thank her - through many, many tears - for showing me what it means to be a mother. Childbirth. Holding hands. Final breaths. String heart, strong hands, strong souls. Forever. 

Finally, A Little Time for a Lot of Thanks.

I know I am not alone in the fact that there is never enough time to do all that needs to get done, so I know that most folks will believe me when I say that this is truly the first time I have had in over three weeks to sit down and jot down my thoughts. I have found a reason to be thankful every day this month, even during those days wherein there didn't seem to be anything worth being grateful for other than that the day would end. I hope that I remember to try harder to do this year round, every season, because my heart and soul are so much fuller knowing that, daily, I can wrap myself up in the warmth of the opportunities, privileges, family, friends, and love that I have in my life. So, my friends, here are the last 24 days of my 30 days of thanks...all in one, complete, relatively short list. :-)

Day 7 - I am thankful for the opportunities that my kids have available to them and the adults in their worlds who facilitate these great adventures. As I sat in and helped the Ditto strings teacher record her students' six weeks' test performances, I realized that not only is Taidhgin (this year and Eibhlin next) so fortunate to be able to try his hand at violin this year, he is truly privileged to get to work with a teacher who so clearly loves her students and truly, truly wants them to love and embrace their music and all it has to offer them.

Day 8 - I am not sure which made me happier today...spending the morning with the Ditto Dashers or watching my kids be so involved with their Busho Kai family at night. They started and ended their day with friends, fun, exercise, and love...is there any other way to do it?

Day 9 - Today was a day in which I respected my body and its abilities more than I have in a long time. And, in doing so, I recognized once again just how fortunate I am to have a body that will bend, for the most part, to my will and do well in doing so.

Day 10 - Lazy Sundays at home are a rare treat in our world. We had one today. It was divine.

Day 11 - Today my oldest son told me that if I were a daughter of a goddess, I would be the daughter of either Hera or Aphrodite...because I am in charge of everything and am beautiful. Thank you, Taidhgin. <3 .="" p="">
Day 12 - Chess Club Tuesdays. Taidhgin stays after for chess and so I get to spend some alone time with my middle children, both of whom tend to get lost occasionally. We don't ever do anything magical (basically we hit Kroger and get gas and maybe pick up the mail, all before we head on over to get Uilleam), but I don't typically get time with just the two of them and they are such different people when given the chance to be themselves and not Taidhgin's youngers or Uilleam's olders. I know I won't get time like this with them always, so I am thankful for our Chess Club Tuesdays while they last.

Day 13 - I am so thankful for Spring Creek Spirit Night! Great rolls, food for everyone, unlimited sides, and free kids' dinner coupons on the way out...never mind the fact that it means I don't have to cook!

Day 14 - See Day 13. Did I mention that they break it up, K-3 one night and 4-6 the next? SWEET!

Day 15 - With 75% of us down for the count, I am thankful for great subs who will take my classes last minute, great kids who will take whatever medicine I need to give, and great sleep when my body has decided to check out for the night.

Day 16 - I can count on both hands the number of times that Aaron and I have gone out without kids since Taidhgin was born over 10 years ago. Tonight was one of those nights and it was fabulous. We had a great dinner out with dear, dear friends- a much needed night out without our charming children. Thank you, Kidspark, for being a place that all of my children are thrilled to visit!

Day 17 - IKEA is a great place to take 5 children for fun and shopping. Seriously. I would like to thank my Swedish friends for providing me with a place to go with five children in tow that is not only productive, but fun and nutritious as well!

Day 18 - Uilleam is absolutely one of the best things going on in my world. Every Monday, he and I run around and kill time while the older three are in their Art Smart class. We head to Aldi, to Kroger, to (fill in the blank with whatever store we need to hit that day), and we get to hang out together. He is funny, so damn funny. He get his "chips" at Aldo and talks to the checker there, telling her how he is helping me shop and how he will pay for my groceries if I don't have the change (it only happened once!). He tells me about his day ("I played with my friend, Ford"), he tells jokes (Knock, Knock. Who's there, Uilleam? Cow. Cow who?  Cow says MOOOOOO), he pats my face and tells me he loves me and that I am the best. Then he tells me we need to head back to Art Smart and "'get the kids".

Day 19 -  I am so thankful for the girls of GNO. We have met once a month for over 5 years and, though many faces have come and gone, there is a small core of women who come out every month to sip a glass of wine, have a dinner, share some laughs (or tears, depending on our lives!), and provide each other - me - with a touchstone that helps keep us grounded.

Day 20 - Some days the thing I am most thankful for is that the day went as well as it could, ended in something other than tears and bloodshed, and did not involve a baseball bat, the police, or a lawyer. Today was one of those days. Thank you for ending when you need, 20 November.

Day 21 - For the first time in five years, I was able to head over to Ditto to share in the Thanksgiving Feast offered at my kids' lunches. When I asked all three Ditto kids if they wanted me to come, each of them gave me their own twist on the same story- absolutely yes, they wanted me to come...but they understood if I couldn't because of work. It damn near broke my heart that all of them, even my 6 year old, felt compelled to tell me how they understood that work trumps school lunches. I hemmed and hawed and finally spoke to my boss about being able to go...and cannot thank her enough for having let me go, mid-day, to spend some lunch time with my kids. My three Ditto kiddos were SO happy that I was there...though I think I was the happiest of them all.

Day 22 - Early bedtimes are absolutely worth their figurative weight in gold. Fridays are nonstop from 3:20 until I pass out cold, so to be able to pack it in before 11 and actually get some good, solid sleep is absolutely something about which to be truly thankful.

Day 23 - Running. I am so thankful for running. With all that we do in our house, running is one of the only things that we can do as a family. I am so grateful that the Ditto track club got us into it and that my husband and my kids are such willing participants...even when it's C.O.L.D. The time we spend together at these runs is collaborative and supportive, loving and free; for a few short hours, we get to be each other's biggest cheerleaders (and toughest competition). Running has made us the absolutely unstoppable team that we are.

Day 24 - Productivity makes me happy. We were so productive around the house today that I am fairly certain I will be smiling well into 2014. I cannot begin to explain how grateful I was to have the day to get done so many little things that would have otherwise been dismissed ... probably forever.

Day 25 - Connlaodh has found a sport all his own: wrestling. He loves it, even though he gets his ass handed to him more often than not (in his defense, as they wrestle comparable size and not comparable age, he is being put up against 10-12 years olds instead of other 6 year olds...against someone his own age, he'd rock it!). Honestly, his love despite loss is one of the reasons I am so glad he got involved with it. He is getting better with each practice and he wants to go. This sport is his and his alone, and it is awesome to see him smile and thoroughly enjoy his time on the mat, in the zone.

Day 26 - I love my crockpot and what comes out of it (usually). Crockpot chili and pasta makes my life easier. Make my kids full. And makes dinner a cinch, which is very important on days like today where the world is spinning out of control. Thank you, dear Crock Pot, for saving my kids' diet at least once a week.

Day 27 - OMG. The house is clean! Yes, ladies and gents...clean! The kids were gone for the day and Aaron and I got to clean everything, including the fans. Thankful, so thankful, for a clean home...I know it won't be this way in 24 hours, but, for right now, I plan on enjoying every second of it.

Day 28 - The turkey was done just right, the sweet potatoes were delish, the kids all got along well, the house remained intact, and my house was full of friends and family. It was, in its intent and its end, exactly what Thanksgiving should be.

Day 29 - I am thankful that my 8 year old daughter knows how and where I like the Christmas decorations placed; instead of giving directions that I have to hope she will follow- ha!-she and I can work side by side, together, singing carols and checking the lights, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.

Day 30 - In saving the best for last, it seems I also saved the most concise for the end, as well...I am thankful for both the gift of today and the gift of hope that there is a tomorrow. I am truly blessed, in every definition of the word, to be given these gifts.

Here's to a tomorrow as wonderful and new and ready to challenge me as was today. Here's to a tomorrow filled with the insight of my children and the love of my family. Here's to a tomorrow that continues to remind me that what I have, all that I have, is so much more than what I deserve and to do anything other than fully embrace what has been placed in my hands and heart is nothing short of intolerable.


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I am Goldilocks.

DAY SIX - 6 November 2013

The kids went to bed before I had a chance to talk to them about what they were thankful for today, so prepare yourself for a double dose of insight and hilarity tomorrow!

Given that the kids are asleep, the chores are (more or less done), and it's only 10 (ergo, I might get a decent night's sleep!), I am going to make it short and sweet tonight. To be honest, sometimes elaboration does little more than devalue that about which you're speaking anyway, and I don't want that to happen tonight.

Did you ever have one of those days so benign that it was damn near perfect? Just like Goldilocks, I found today to be just right. It wasn't stress free, it wasn't easy, and it sure wasn't filled with all sorts of fun, but I had great talks with my kids on the way to school, a productive meeting at work, some good parking lot talk with a friend, read with my 1st grader, laughed with my 2 year old, studied with my 4th and 5th graders, chit-chatted with the husband, and made "matching sock" plans with the girls I am running with on Saturday. I saw the sun rise over the lake, watched the air clear of humidity and fog, and heard some Chili Peppers on the radio at school today.

Everyone should have at least a day or two a week that start well, go relatively smoothly, and end with a smile. I am so thankful to have had one of those today...and only hope that I don't have to wait too long for the next one!

Ice Cream Cones Aren't Cold...They're Yummy.

DAYS FOUR AND FIVE - 4 - 5 November 2013

Taidhgin: I am thankful for school because otherwise I'd be a dumb person. I am also thankful for my friends because otherwise I'd be alone ...

Eibhlin: I am thankful for books because they keep me happy when I am bored and don't have anything to do. I am thankful for pictures, too...they help me think of my family.

Connlaodh: I am thankful for the tv because on the weekends we get to watch tv. I am also thankful for you (Mom), because otherwise I wouldn't be able to eat dinner.

Uilleam: I like ice cream cones because ice cream cones are good. They're not cold, they're yummy. I like lions and elephants. Because it's cool. They're not sad, they're funny.

Ice cream cones are yummy and lions and elephants are funny. What more do you need to know? I think we can go ahead and just put it out there that I grateful every day to have these little moments of genius in my life. These kids of mine have life all figured out, don't they? Friends and family are important, books and school are important, food is important, and smiling is important. I honestly believe they've covered it all. Without food, family, knowledge, sustenance, and a reason to smile, what reason is there to be? It is interesting how the things they are grateful to have in their world so easily remind me of what everyone should be grateful for, regardless of age. I cannot wait to see what they think about tomorrow.

As for me, I spent most of my night last night watching my kids at their different activities. First we had art class and then, just for Connlaodh, we had wrestling. As I sat there watching Connlaodh tackle this sport he's never played, I realized just how awesome it is that our kids are growing up so interested in all that is new, different, and exciting. They are willing to go anywhere, try (almost) anything, eat (almost) anything, talk to anyone, and just live every moment at 100%. They are at a point in their lives where anything is possible, mean is for adults, and playing a sport/participating in an activity is fun no matter how well you perform. I am so grateful for the openness of their hearts and minds and up can only hope that they continue to see life as an adventure to be embraced and a challenge to enjoy and master.

And what about today? Today I have spent a lot of time thinking about my body and how fortunate am to have the one that I do. Not because it's awesome to look at, though I hope one day to be thankful for that, too- ha!- but because it works and works well. Every day it runs for me, works out for me, cooks for me, rushes around for me, lifts and bends for me, breathes for me...and all without complaint. When I wanted it to, it carried children for me; when I needed it to, it birthed them. I have abused this vessel inside and out, treated it worse than anything else in my life, and yet every day it bends to my will as best as it can. Not everyone has this luxury; I know of too many for whom running is impossible, carrying children is a dream, and rushing around is a nightmare. So on days like today where I was nursing a sore bunion after my run, I have to be thankful for that being the worst of my ailments. And, in gratitude, I am now going to treat this persevering body of mine to some Halloween candy that I stole from the kids. Shhh...

A Little Extra Time for the Little Things

DAY THREE - 3 November 2013

Taidhgin: I am thankful for Sundays because sometimes I don't have to do anything on Sunday...like today.

Eibhlin: I am thankful for my mom because when I don't want to do stuff around the house, she asks me to go grocery shopping with her and I'm like, "Yeah, sure." She gets me out of the stuff I don't like!

Connlaodh: I am thankful for Uilleam again because I get to play with him.

Uilleam: My birthday cake makes me happy.

It is all about the little things; my kids absolutely know this better than I do, that's for sure. A day off, a trip to Kroger, playing outside, and cake are all things that we can take for granted, dismiss easily, ignore altogether- but not my kiddos, not today. Today those were the things that made them smile, allowed them to breathe, and for which they were grateful. An interesting little side note to this is that Taidhgin spent the better part of the day raking leaves and helping Aaron with the lawn: his world must be pretty freaking crazy if hours upon hours of lawn maintenance is perceived as a day "off"! Also, I would like it noted first that Uilleam's birthday isn't for another three months, so I am not sure where that little slice of thought came from. Also, please know that while cake may make Uilleam happy, eating it does not. I don't think that boy has ingested a piece of cake ever, at least not willingly. Wait, I take that back. He did like the cheesecake we had the other night. Smart boy.

What am I thankful for today? The extra hour for (whatever!) that I got today. We had no plans, no obligations, and no schedule...so today was all about the little things, the house things, the nothings. I spent hours dehydrating fruit, folding clothes, washing clothes, making meals, grocery shopping, helping with Christmas lists (spelling does count, you know), and doing whatever. We sure don't get enough days like this during the year, so when one comes along, we take full advantage. I got to spend a little time with everyone today, a little one on one with each of my kiddos, and spent the day in yoga pants, a run shirt, and sporting a ponytail. The little things. They count. And without them, the rest of it would be too much.

It's A Family Affair

This year I decided to involve the kids in what has become an annual ritual for me: my Thirty Days of Thanks. We talked a bit about what it means to be thankful each day for those things, big and small, that make a difference in our lives. We're a little behind (shocker, I know), but here we go:

DAY TWO - 2 NOVEMBER 2013

Taidhgin: I am thankful for having a family, because otherwise I wouldn't be here!

Eibhlin: I am thankful for my family because they are really nice.

Connlaodh: I am thankful for Uilleam because he makes me laugh.

Uilleam: I like using the potty.

It's all about priorities, I guess! :-)

Aaron and I were able to spend some quality time with that little man today: just the three of us, wandering the aisles at Sprouts, eating apples and laughing at each other's jokes and silly comments. As much as I know he loves his brothers and sister, I know he doesn't get anywhere near as much time with us alone as did any of the other kiddos. I am so thankful to have him all the time, but even more thankful for the moments when we/I get him all to ourselves.


DAY ONE - 1 NOVEMBER 2013

Taidhgin: I am thankful for the luck of the gods: Zeus, Poseidon, and Hephaestus.

Eibhlin: I am thankful for my teachers, because my teachers make me laugh. When I am feeling sad, they make me happy again. And they teach me stuff I didn't know before.

Connlaodh: I am thankful for the sharks because we got to swim with them and the stingrays. One of the stingrays came up to my face!

Uilleam: I am thankful for turtles.

As for me, I am thankful for having been able to give to my children the gift of brothers and a sister, for tonight my eldest saved the heart of my third born, giving him a shoulder to cry on and the opportunity to feel not-so-alone. After having competed in his first tournament ever, and placing third (instead of the much desire first), Connlaodh was distraught, crying his poor, big, brown eyes out until they were red. Taidhgin not only competed in his tournament with the goal of winning for Connlaodh but, on the way home, he wrapped his heart around his baby brother and told him how he, too had gotten third in his first tournament, so he knew how bad it hurt...but how Connlaodh should be so proud of himself for not having been nervous and for having done as well as he did. Fifteen minutes later, Taidhgin had Connlaodh laughing and smiling again, as only a big brother could have done.

Thank You, Santa.

It is 7 am and my children are still nestled, all snug in their bed (yes, one bed- apparently, as with puppies, they sleep better when they are laying all over each other), and I am still waiting for anyone else to wake up so we can get this wrapping paper melee going! I have my coffee in hand and my slippers on my feet; I am ready for action. However, since they are not, I have had the chance to think a little about, reflect a little more, and smile a whole lot.

I've been up for nearly an hour- more excited than the kids, I guess- and have spent some time thinking about today, its meaning, this season, and just how fortunate I am to live the life I do with the people I have in my world. Christmas, the holiday season- it is about giving and loving and caring, about helping and smiling and working towards the better good for all. I swear I live the most amazing life, because in my world, with that meaning in mind, the holiday season is year round.

I am amazed at the support from family and friends when I share my kids' accomplishments. I am blown away by the number of people who take the time to recognize us, my children, for being a special part of their lives. We live in a world where we have so many people to fall back on that we will never hit the ground. My children never feel alone or left out, my husband and I never feel helpless or without- we are truly, truly living a golden life surrounded by tremendous people. In our worlds, every day is a gift just waiting to be unwrapped.

Wait, what is that? Could it be the children stirring? I think so! They are up and so my waxing poetic has come to an end. Before I leave for the day, let me thank you- all of you- and Santa, too, for giving me the best present ever - today.

The Truth.

This is the first time I have omitted the truth from my children's lives. I just cannot bring myself to do, though I know in my heart I should. I have spoken with them about so many different tragedies- some close, some far, some within their lifetimes, some so long before- but this one, this hurt, well, this one is too close for me to find a way to sit down and talk to them about it.

They watched me cry in Oklahoma City as I walked through the memorial and remembered that day. They cried when I explained the meaning behind the chairs in the Field of Empty Chairs- especially when I asked them who they thought the smaller chairs were meant to represent. They're smart. They knew. And they hurt for those children and those families.

They watched me cry in NYC as we walked around downtown and I stared at the hole in the skyline. We looked at pictures of the towers and talked about what happened. I explained it, showed them pictures of the attack, and told them of the people who lost all hope that day as they lost their lives. As we stood on the 102nd floor of the Empire State Building, they looked down and cried, sobbing at the thought that for some people, jumping from that height was a far better option than facing what was behind them.

We have talked about the space shuttle Challenger and Christa McAulliffe and how that was one of the scariest days of my life, watching that happen live on television, not knowing what it really meant until I saw my teachers break down in tears in front of all of us.

We have talked about Hurricanes Sandy, Ike, Katrina, and Andrew and about the disaster and destruction they brought to the areas they impacted. We have talked about how, for some, recovery was never an option and the only hope for moving on is leaving everything behind. For them the thought of nothing, nothing being left, was despair.

When Uilleam was born we talked about loss of children and of new infants. They hugged me and each other and cried in fear, in hope, and in love for him and for all the little babies born too early and with fate in their way.

When a young boy in our city died of a horrible, yet preventable, illness, we spoke of his loss, his family, their passion for helping to protect others now, and how he will always be remembered as such a young boy. They tear at the thought of his loss and the loss his parents and friends felt and still feel, day after day.

When the tornado hit the nursing home across from their school and destroyed so many homes and buildings last spring, we talked of despair and loss and of fear. Of not knowing. Of not being able to stop it from happening.

There is very little I have kept from them...nothing, really, if you count what I withhold until they ask. Except this time. This one. I cannot do it. I cannot allow my children to feel that they are not safe. I cannot give them that kernel of doubt and darkness that could make them scared to go through the halls alone. I cannot find the courage to speak with them about how one person's horrible decisions have caused so many families' hearts to be broken.

Every day I watch them run in and out of their schools, happy and free and safe in the knowledge that the people there love them, protect them, support them, and would never hurt them. I cannot allow myself to be the one who throws that sliver of suspicion into their conscience, one that would prevent them from continuing to embrace each and every moment as NOW, as LIFE, as LOVE, as FOREVER.

I cannot do this because this time, unlike I every other time, I have no answer for them.

I can explain tornadoes and hurricanes and floods, their infrequencies, statistical improbabilities, and the safeguards we have in place to protect us.

I can explain faulty science and technology, I can explain grown people taking out their rage on other grown people, I can explain being angry at a thing and not a person and how that anger causes you to attack that thing.

 I cannot, however, explain how anyone could look at the face of a child of 6 or 7 or 10 and end that smile. I cannot explain how it could have been any of my children and there would have been nothing I could do to stop it from happening. I cannot explain how I could not have kept them safe.

I have spent the weekend yelling at my kids, playing with my kids, talking with my kids, being with my kids. They make me mad, crazy, frustrated, sad, happy beyond my wildest dreams... and I am so damn fortunate to have them here with me at this moment, at this time. I cannot break this spell and tell them that their world is not as safe as they think it is. Maybe one day I can and will, but for today I will let them rest tight in the thoughts that they will always be okay, out of harm's way, and wrapped in my arms.

I Dare You.

I dare you to go home tonight and complain about the bad reception on your cell phone, the overpriced meat you just bought, or the gas prices that fluctuate between ridiculous and obscene. I dare you to swear about Hamilton leaving the Rangers or the Cowboys' inevitable losses or the cost of milk.

As you open your mouth to complain about your losing bet, your lost keys, your lost contacts, or the losing economy, I want you to close it with the thought of what real loss is. Loss of that little hand. Loss of that little voice. Loss of homework to never be done. Loss of Santa. Loss of wiggly teeth. Loss of little love and little toes and little futures that could have grown so large if only. If only.

I picked up my kids from school today- SO. DAMN. LUCKY. THAT. I. CAN.- and thought about where and who I'd be if I lived 1700 miles north west in a little town outside of Newton. I cry. I cry for them and cry for me and cry for my babies and cry for a world where someone so young can think of no other recourse for his angst and wrongs than to destroy all the hope he can see in others. I cry for those parents. I cry for those children who will never see tomorrow. I cry for the people who have to wake up each day from now on, knowing that the one safe place in their children's lives- aside from their parents arms- was NOT. I cry because no matter how much I hurt, I will never know what they feel and who THEY are becoming...and I cry because there are those who will try to turn in this into some political agenda instead of treating it with the sacred respect, love, and sympathy it deserves.

If you are one of those and I know you, then run with it. Say it. Make this about guns and Republicans, Democrats and educational codes. I have seen enough comments today from people so far removed that I know that thoughts will very likely head there shortly, if they're not there already. We each have our own way of working through what we don't understand, I guess.

As for me, I will continue to cry and hurt for those parents, those families, and that community. I will continue to be grateful for the fact that I can hold my children for one more day. I will continue to remind myself that there is nothing - NOTHING- in the world more important than those little bodies who rely upon me for their worlds...and I will cry knowing that there are some parents who no longer will be leaned upon and who will suffer that gaping wound forever without even having had one last kiss, one last hug, one last lost tooth, one last spelling test, one last shoelace to tie, one last good-bye.

Going to the Vet Isn't Always a Round-Trip Visit.*

DAYS TWENTY-NINE & THIRTY - 29 - 30 November 2012...and EVERY DAY

It's easy to forget to stop and breathe sometimes, to stop and think, to stop. Our worlds go round and round, there are decisions to be made, items to be checked off of lists, lawns to be mowed, laundry to be done, races to run, and the next thing you know it is 5 years later and you're grayer, thicker, and nowhere closer to being "done" than you thought you would be.

I tried, I really did, to finish the TDoT that I started on 1 November. I even sat in bed Friday night chastising myself for not having the energy to get up and finish, to give my thanks for those last two days of November. I mean, really, what's another 10 minutes if it means being grateful for what I have? Sleep won out, however, and Thursday's and Friday's call to thanks were left unanswered. As much as I carried that guilt until now, I am actually kind of grateful that I didn't finish then, as, after the weekend I had, I am in a much better position to sit back and truly be thankful for all the precious gifts in my world.

In no particular order of importance as ALL are important to me. This list is not all-inclusive at all, either, it is simply the thoughts that have been in my head for the last few days:

1) I am so thankful to have gotten to watch my baby girl - pup take her last breaths and know that we made the right decision. This past Saturday we had to say good-by to Aiko because there was no good ending to her world otherwise. She licked my hand all the way to the vet, nuzzled close while we waited for the doc, and then rested her paws on my lap and her head on my chest while Dr. Doherty prepared her. She looked at me the entire time, and I at her, and I knew from the weight of her head on my abdomen that it was over for her. She wasn't afraid, she was at peace. I questioned my own strength while I waited, unsure of whether or not I could do it; she, however, never questioned me, my strength, or my decision.

2) I am glad that I can run. I hate it, it hates me, but I can do it. I can do better than what I've done and my body doesn't fight me...this is more than so many can say and I am truly fortunate.

3) I am so glad to have the opportunity to learn not only from the strength of others but also from their mistakes. I am not perfect and never will be; however, I do try hard every day to work towards it so that someday I may even be halfway there. I learn from those I admire, those I respect, those I love, those I am disgusted by, those who scare me, those who are. Every person has the power to impact our lives for the better, if only we are able to see how to learn from what they can share. There are days when I am far from the person I would like to be; I look to what I've learned to pull me back and help me up.

4) My family means the world to me. No matter how angry, frustrated, aggravated, upset with them I am, I wouldn't have my life without them, couldn't imagine it without them.

What it comes down to is this, folks- I have in my world people I love, lessons I've learned, a home I can die in, and the strength of all those who've touched my life. Thirty days just isn't enough time to credit everyone and everything for allowing me the life I am so fortunate to live. However, it is the day to day that makes it all worthwhile and if we don't stop to think each day about something, anything, that we have dear in our worlds, then what is the point? When we lose sight of what makes our lives feel whole, we stop being whole and instead become angry and lost. I may get angry (one of the drawbacks to Italian and Irish genes, I guess), but most of all I am thankful to no longer live angry. I am whole and am so grateful to be able to be.


*The Art of Racing in the Rain- Garth Stein

Weight-Lifting. Dogs. A Tale of Happiness and Grief.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN - 27 November 2012
Today was a day at odds with itself, with so much good followed by so much not. It has taken a while to get beyond the negative of that day and really embrace that for which I am grateful and about which I am smiling.

It is amazing to realize just how heavy you've been once that weight has been lifted. Regardless of what is causing that weight, be it choices you've made or events beyond your control,   I know there are many for whom the weight ceases to be an urgent concern and who instead begin to carry it without realizing it. The only sign of that weight is in the slight stoop in their gait, the downward curl of the corners of their mouth when no one is looking, the watery eyes when someone, in passing, references that which has been making them hurt. It is not until after that weight has been removed from our shoulders that we realize just how heavy it was and how relieved we now feel.

Today I had someone do some weight-lifting for me, as there was something weighing upon me that I alone could not bear. That weight, that burden, was lift not by strength of muscle and nerves of steel, but by one of the most powerful tools we have to help others lighten their loads- forgiveness.

I am not going to spoil or trivialize today by going into the details, as they are personal and do not need to be exploited. However, know that I am thankful today for the opportunity to shut the door on a weight that my heart has been carrying for too long...and thankful for the person who has given me this relief.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT -  28 November 2012
I grew up in a home with cats and dogs. Most of my relatives and friends have had pets. As a young adult, out on my own, one of the first things I did was bring home a furry little guy of my own (...how I miss you, Garp...). What I am getting at here, folks, is that I have spent my life wiping pet hair off my pants, vacuuming pet hair off my couches, and sweeping up spilled pet food from the kitchen floor. Just like the people in my life, my animals alternately aggravate the hell out of me and make me smile with their mere presence. They drain my wallet and fill my hearts and now the hearts of my children, too.

I have known so many people who haven't had this joy, people who have never known what it was like to get muddy prints all over their clothes when their wet and dirty dog gave them a hug...or have cried into the backs of their warm, purring cat. I feel for these people- adult and child alike- because aside from the love of your infant child, there is no love as unabashed and unwavering as that of a pet.

We found out last night that our oldest dog, Aiko, is dying. It may not be this week, but it will be before Christmas unless we make the choice to have it happen sooner. The children are heartbroken. This is the seventh- yes, seventh!- pet we will have lost in the last 3 1/2 years. Aaron and I adopted our furballs long before we had kids and they are all reaching the end of the road, one right after another. Taidhgin told me that he can't handle it, all the hurting from losing them all. Eibhlin told me that she can't handle knowing that Aiko is hurting the way she is. Connlaodh told me he is okay right now because she is still here but won't be after she's gone. Uilleam told me he loved her- by climbing on top of her and giving her a big hug.

I hurt for my children but am grateful that they have had the chance with Aiko-  and all of our pets - to know both the love a pet can give as well as the sorrow at their loss. I don't want my children suffering, but I do want them to know that their love for something or someone doesn't have to die just because that creature does. They love her- have loved them all- and will, always, not only because they had her in their worlds as a young and active pup, but because they are able to give her back so much love at a time when she needs it most.

Our animals can teach us some pretty amazing things about being honest and good and real. If you could have seen Aiko with Uilleam on top of her last night, knowing she just ached and ached but did nothing other than give him a lick of love, you'd see just a little slice of what it means to be right and whole. Thank you, Garp, Booyah, Dallas, Yabo, Plato, Ni, Aiko...for the love, the lessons, and the warmth you have shown all of us.

I Love My Job. (No, This is Not a Joke.)

DAY TWENTY-SIX - 26 November 2012
I hated high school. Hated the students, the environment, the rules, the work. I spent four very long years being terribly miserable as a given, occasionally happy, and often-times oblivious. There were a handful of teachers who provided me with lifelines, a handful of friends who weren't dragging me to hell, and a handful of family who forgave me enough to see past my self-imposed angst and to see instead who I was and what I could be.

One evening, in some long-ago manhandled journal, I tore into the page of the night with my pen, underlining, underscoring how one day I would be the adult working with kids like me- kids who didn't want to be worked with. I promised myself then and there that I would never forget what it was like to be the only quiet in the noisy sea of the hallway, what it was like to be the last seat at the cafeteria table and unfortunately surrounded by pom poms and big, feathered hair. I swore that I would some day give to some teenager that which no one seemed to be able to give to me; although at the time I was unsure of what that was, I am fairly certain now I know- rules, structure, motivation, and some room to be what I could be, not what I should be.

By no means am I sitting here patting myself on the back for what I do. I know I have erred in my classroom, sometimes more dramatically than others. I know there are students who have forgotten me, who have hated me, who have tried to hurt me, and who have threatened my very being. I also know that there are some for whom I was that adult they could trust, to whom I have been able to give what I never received, by whom I have been regarded as more of a mother than a teacher, with whom I have worked for hours to help them reach their highest goals, about whom I have cried when I realized that there was only so much I can do and, for a few, that just wasn't enough.

I don't love going to work, I don't love that alarm or the hours, and I sure don't love the paperwork, bureaucratic red tape, and political games that are played once I leave my classroom and head to the faculty lounge.

I do love, however, that I get to be a part of what is, for some of my students, the path of success today and in the future. Today I watched a student write a paper so carefully, so intelligently, that any outsider would look at him and at what he wrote and wonder how and why he was in my class at my school and not in an AP class at a traditional campus instead. His work is insightful, thought-provoking, and written on a level beyond that which I usually see in my freshman class. This is him today. Two years ago he barely wrote a word, said a word, read a word. He refused to put in any effort, make any gains, and, for all intent and purpose, presented himself as a complete and utter dunce.

I get to see this change, something that not the rest of the world doesn't always get to see. I get to smile inwardly as this student - the same one who would put his head down and sleep for days and then bitch about the fact that I woke him up - this student now questions what he reads, reads beyond the words, and asks for more so that he can truly understand. He is one of many who, over the years, I have had the good fortune to see embrace young adulthood and turn around for the better. He is one of the many who make my job worth the politics and bullsh*t, because the knowledge that he and the others like him will be okay is more  than enough. I don't know if I have necessarily accomplished what those adamant pen-strokes intended back in the day, but I am glad to at least be able to say I am trying.

Yes, Eibhlin, There is a Santa Claus.

DAY TWENTY-FIVE - 25 November 2012
There are so many ways in which my seven year old is a mini adult, it's scary. She thinks like one, analyzes like one, can synthesize like one, perceives the world like one, reads like one, has attitude like one, and then some. I know we've pushed her and expected more of her during her life because she is capable of so much, but I also know we've tried very hard to allow her to be a child instead of a very small 40 year old woman. In some ways we've been very successful; she has an 8 pm bedtime, sleeps with a nightlight, and cuddles with stuffed animals as she drifts off to sleep. In other areas, well, we haven't been able to keep that internal ancient from rearing its omnipotent head as she speaks. However, as any good adult does, Eibhlin has tried to convince herself of many things that are not real-- including Santa Claus.

As a first grader, she told me it was absolutely impossible for Santa to exist, that there is no such magic that would allow his annual travel to occur. She told me that there is no way Santa could be real, because if he was real, then all children would have presents under their tree each year and, well, that's not the case. She told me that reindeer are just caribou, that elves are imagined, and that surely it must be the parents who gave presents and ate the cookies left out with care. To this I replied, "Is that what you believe?", to which she answered, "Yes." I said, "Okay," she gave me a wise look and smiled, and that was the end of that.

As a second grader, she remained mute on the subject, silent in response to questions about Santa and what he would bring her. She remained a passive receiver of gifts under the tree and candy canes from the Santa at Cabela's. She made lists for us and for her grandparents-- but put nothing on one for Santa. Unconscious omission? Perhaps, though I think it more likely that she just wasn't making a scene about the fact that Santa was us, we are him, and really, we know what's on the list anyway.

As a third grader, Eibhlin has a renewed passion for Mr. Claus and his occupation. She has written several letters, none of which I have been allowed to read, and mailed them with great care and extra stamps. She wants to see him at Cabela's, leave for him some cookies, and she told me that she even asked in one of her letters if he preferred soy milk to cow's milk so that we could be sure to get which one he prefers. Today, she most adamantly said, " I DO BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS." She does believe. She does want  to believe. And for this season, those two sentiments are one and the same.

I promised myself I would never lie to my children about Santa and I haven't yet. If they ask me point blank for the truth, I give it to them. However, if they walk the line, dabble in the gray area of hope versus reality, then who am I to kick them in the knees? There is plenty of time for our children to grow up and away from the hearts of childhood and the imagination of youth. If she needs to believe just this one last year- needs it so much that she is convincing herself day after day after day that he is real and he loves her and all of the other children in the world- then that is enough for me. I love that she is so much an adult that a part of her realizes that this belief in Saint Nick is one of the last strongholds in childhood, that after Santa goes then so does so much more.

I am thankful that she is wise enough to have rekindled her own hope and belief, that she wants it badly enough to work for it, that she isn't ready to give up her giggles and snuggles and littleness just yet. I am not sure how much longer she will allow herself to be so young and naive, but for the few more days or weeks or minutes that she is embracing her child-self, I will smile and thank her for being who she is, regardless of how old she feels that day.

FLYING, RUNNING, FOOD, AND MORE FLYING.

DAY TWENTY -  20 November 2012
Tuesday was a busy day, even by our standards. We had work and school, packing to do, dogs to drop off, a house to close up, and an early flight to Boston to catch. The kids were running ragged, we were exhausted, and, as we sat in row 16 of our Jet Blue flight, we realized that we had four very long hours ahead of us during which we had to keep the children entertained.We had high hopes that Jet Blue's in-seat television setup would be all we need, but with the glitches and the lack of sound (who the hell forgot to pack the headsets?), that reprieve last about 10 minutes. Fortunately, the boys didn't really care and after a while they just stared at the screen, lost in their own inner dialogues. Uilleam kept himself busy by ripping apart magazines and climbing all over us. Eibhlin was a different story; she was bored, so bored, and was trying so hard to behave. Fortunately for her -  and for us - her seatmate was a saint!
This young man, a freshman at TCU this year and self-proclaimed "Chatty Chris", was on his way home to Boston for the holidays and was just thrilled to make the acquaintance of one very verbose little 7 year old. They talked about the ocean and how sharks were scary, about TCU and Rice University and about how Eibhlin can't wait to be an owl, about "iCarly" and "Good Luck, Charlie" and a host of other tween shows. They talked birthdays and holidays, favorite colors and vacation destinations, and so much more. Eibhlin couldn't have been happier and this young man couldn't have been kinder. Thank you, Chris, not only for making our lives easier by keeping Eibhlin entertained, but more for making one little girl's evening just perfect...which we could tell it was, based on how red she turned when we mentioned your name later on.

DAY TWENTY-ONE - 21 November 2012
The day began with a run. I hate running. I really, really do. It is boring and miserable and painful and not at all the "freeing" sport people claim it is. Personally, I think those people have themselves completely deluded; I cannot see how anyone can consider running fun and exhilarating instead of what it really is -- insane. It does do amazing things for one's thighs and calves, but aside from that- blech. However, this morning's run in the 35-degree MA morning was sunny, relaxing, and worth every OMFG-what-am-I-doing minute of it. For a brief moment (or 29), my mind was clear and all I thought about was the next hill, the next turn, the next mile. A little bit of clarity is a good thing; it almost makes the running bullsh*t worthwhile...sometimes.

DAY TWENTY-TWO - 22 November 2012
Thanksgiving Day. I am thankful to again be able to sit back and take in all that the world has to offer, all that my head and my heart and my spirit can hold, all that is available to be seen and loved and appreciated and witnessed. Family, friends, warmth, love, forgiveness, rebirth - I am so fortunate to have the world that I have, the world in which I live, love, and am loved. I have more than I ever could have imagined in so many aspects of my life and for that and more, on this day, I am truly thankful.

DAY TWENTY-THREE -  23 November 2012
After a whirlwind week of food, family, fun, flying, etc., it is time to head back home to Arlington. I can't come up with a singular thing to be thankful for on this Black Friday. All I can think of is how wonderful it is that between Logan and Atlanta, everyone got a meal they liked and were willing to eat, full enough so that they all slept quietly for most of our trip home. Peace and quiet at last.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR - 24 November 2012
I am thankful for my family's willingness to take on a little adventure when I get a wild hair up my ass. I don't sit still well and so find myself coming up with little trips to take, projects to take on, groups to join, etc. all in an effort to quell the gypsy inside when she gets too loud (she is great and is the reason I have lived the life I have, but sometimes she moves around too much for my own sanity).
My family has graciously gone along with the vast majority of my schemes and plans, even the ones that involves hours on the road for minutes of amusement. They even came up with a motivating cheer, "What stops this family? NOTHING (except volcanoes, tornadoes, and maybe hurricanes)!" in support of my drive to go, go, go. I am so thankful for them and their thoughtful and smiling participation in all of my wild exploits. Without them, none of it would be anywhere near as much fun as it is.

Youth-Tinted Glasses: Get Yourself a Pair.

DAY NINETEEN - 19 November 2012
I am so grateful for what my children help me to see. Through their eyes I get to experience so much I had forgotten about, ideas and thoughts that wasted away along with my childhood and early adulthood.

Do YOU remember how much fun it is to run around and play tag for hours, with kids you may not even know, screaming across the playground and school yard with reckless abandon?
Do YOU remember how nervous, exciting, exhilarating, nauseating, embarrassing, amazing it is/you are when you perform in front of your classmates and family?
Do YOU remember how awesome you feel when you have figured out that all of those letters make sounds, those sounds make words, those words make thoughts and now you- yes, you!- are among the inner circle who understand what goes on inside of books?
Do YOU remember how warm and comforting it is to sit down with your dog, scratch his belly and rub his ears, receive licks and give hugs, all without care for your clothes or your hair or anything else in the world?
Do YOU remember what it felt like to throw a ball with all your might, watch it fly through the air and bounce off the wall, the couch, the floor, your brother, whatever...then chase it and do it all over again?
Do YOU remember how exciting it was to pack your suitcase full of fun and books and toys and ideas, all to be used with complete joy at your destination?
Do you?

I can't imagine being my age now and not being asked to remember those feelings, those moments of utter peace and joy that children embrace every day. It's a lot to ask as adults that we spend our time being as carefree and wonderstruck as children, but it would be a shame to not at least try for a few moments of that, if only in what we see through the eyes of those far wiser than we.

McDonalds. Books. Laundry. Zebras. Puppies.

DAY FOURTEEN - 14 November 2012
People talk about how lifestyle and food changes have saved their lives, right? Well let me be the first to say that McDonalds has saved my Wednesday night wallet. Not my ass or my cholesterol count, mind you, but definitely my wallet. Wednesday nights are, hands down, the most complicated nights we have- i.e. we don't even go home after school most weeks- so cooking at home is out of the question. We have taken to hitting up the local fast food chow stations (blech, I know), but they are ridiculous in terms of bang for my buck. All of them except for McDonalds.

I can feed the entire family for under $20 off the value menu. Yes, sir...our total yesterday evening came to a whopping $18.20. They still don't beat CiCi's pizza, where we can all eat for $15, but it's pretty damn close AND I can let them eat it in the car (unlike CiCi's...it's definitely easier to clean up a fry mess than a pie mess). I can even forgive the franchise its awful food, Happy Meals, dirty Playlands, and more...how could I not, given the McChicken and the $1 LARGE drinks? For those of you who also do the eat-in-the-car-because-we-have-overlapping-practices/classes-and-this-is-our-only-chance-to-eat routine, I know you can appreciate the sigh of relief from both myself and my purse as we drive away from the drive through checker, sated and not broke (yet).

DAY FIFTEEN - 15 November 2012
Good books. That's all there is to it. Yesterday I learned to appreciate again what it felt like to sit down and become totally immersed in a book. I drew a bath, filled it with bubbles, soaked my aching legs in the scalding hot water, and read until the water was turning my toe blue. I was not reading great literature, it was not a novel for the ages, but it was interesting and fast and filled with characters so close to the hearts of the kids I teach every day that it was all that I could do to put it down - finally - and save the rest for today. Movies are great, hanging out with friends is wonderful, being with your family is irreplaceable, but I am so thankful for that solitary time spent in the bubbles. Alone. With a book. No one yelling. No one talking. Just me. And my book. Alone. (Sorry, I just know it will be years before that happens again, so I need to keep repeating it for fear of forgetting that it actually happened.) With a good book. In a bath. Alone. Quiet....Alone...Reading...

DAY SIXTEEN - 16 November 2012
Black & Decker's Digital Advantage Iron. This modern miracle cut my ironing time in half, didn't spit water, and made perfect creases in Connlaodh's uniform pants. Never would I have guess 20 years ago that I would be thankful for a new iron, but am I ever. I  thank you, B & D, and my now neatly pressed oxford thanks you, as well.

DAY SEVENTEEN - 17 November 2012
Today was one of those days wherein it is easy to forget there's a reason we do what we do. The entire day was spent taking care of those items that "had" to be taken care of, i.e. groceries, cleaning, cooking, and errands. It was also one of those days where we did nothing else once the "must-dos" were done; we stayed home, stayed in, and spent the evening in PJ's watching bad movies and eating Chinese food. It was the kind of day that is easy to forget, to shut your eyes on that night without a second thought, to gloss over when someone asks what you did this weekend. This makes it all the easier to forget - on a day such as this one - that each day is worth being thankful for, even the ones that seem so benign and ill-equipped to make a mark on our memory. To find something on a day like this to hold tight and dear can be nearly impossible but, if one looks very hard, even today there was a moment for which to be truly grateful. Zebra cakes. Not the Little Debbie kind, but the kind you make with white and chocolate cake batter, overlapping in the dish, and baking into a zebra pattern. They are delicious and cool to look at, yes, but the moment I think of as that moment was the one in which Connlaodh decorated said cake--- with a little bit of icing and a whole lot of sprinkles. The cake  was/is ugly, but the pure joy on his face as he decorated that cake and the leftover-batter's cupcakes was worth the dreary, dull day that lead up to that point. Thank you, yummy zebra cakes, for the slice of brightness that ended my day.

DAY EIGHTEEN - 18 November 2012
Phantom is our youngest dog. He is just over a year old and is ALL puppy. Nine days out of every ten, I am plotting a way to get rid of this creature. He  jumps over everything, climbs on the counters, knocks people over, and pees when he's nervous. He has eaten at least six bluetooth headsets, two cell phones, five wired headsets, two pairs of slippers, and numerous shoes, keychains, and bags. He is a runner and thinks it's funny to haul ass out the front door and down the street. He is adorable and sweet, but a freaking menace.  He is also, however, more or less Uilleam's litter mate and definitely one of "the boys". Tonight I watched Phantom wrestle with Connlaodh and Uilleam - and by wrestle, I truly do mean flips, head locks, and more- and though aggressive and offensive, nary a hair on the head of either boy was disturbed. Despite bared teeth and spit-covered growls in good fun, that dog knew- just KNEW!- he was playing with his "brothers" and that it was all a good time, a laugh, worth lots of fun and plenty of licks. I don't know who had more fun tonight, the boys or the dog. Either way, just when I think I am ready to leave the damn door open so this beast can escape, he goes and loves on my boys the way he did tonight. With a bit of a grimace--one more like a smirk-- I shut the front door and scratched his head good- night.

FOUR DAYS. (A Top Ten List for Each.)

I am thankful for my litter of kiddos today and every day. I thought I was whole before I had them; it wasn't until they became a part of my life that I realized just how many cracks and holes needed to be filled. I cannot begin to tell you just how quickly those gaps and cracks were filled with my love for these awesome little creatures.

DAY TEN - 10 November 2012

Taidhgin, the little poet.

Ten things I love:

1. His totally unabashed giggle. 
2. The way he tries to make his hair "shake" from side to side. 
3. The way that he naturally speaks quietly and is soft around babies. 
4. How he, at nine, still likes to snuggle and say, "I love you."
5. He is so willing to see the good inside of even the darkest person.
6. He can admit when he's wrong.
7. He hurts more for other than he does for himself.
8. He can see the humor in himself and laughs about it.
9. He doesn't hide anything. 
10. I get to love him.

DAY ELEVEN - 11 November 2012

Eibhlin, beautiful/precious joy.

Ten things I love:

1. The way that she gets peanut butter on her face when she eats fluffer-nutters.
2. She loves diamonds, nail polish, stuffed animals, and farts.
3. She is so damn smart.
4. She never lets me forget anything, but she forgives me everything.
5. She can giggle in one breath and kick you in the head in the next.
6. She loves reading, and writing, and words in general...and uses them well.
7. She likes to go with me to Sam's ... just for the samples. :-) 
8. Her room is filled with stories and songs and math problems that she makes up for herself to keep herself busy.
9. When she calls me while I am out running errands just to chat and say hello.
10. I get to love her.

DAY TWELVE - 12 November 2012

Connlaodh, chaste fire.

Ten things I love:

1. Every emotion he has is right there for the world to see.
2. He doesn't play games- he is who he is.
3. Everything he does, he LOVES...until he doesn't like it anymore.
4. He thinks I am the best cook ever- especially when I order pizza. :-)
5. He is an amazing big brother.
6. He is incredible at damn near every sport - and just rolls with it, loving the sports for what they are, not for what he looks like playing.
7. He wants to fish every weekend.
8. He thinks math is fun.
9. When he talks, he uses his eyes for emphasis...those big, black eyes speak volumes.
10. I get to love him.

DAY THIRTEEN - 13 November 2012

Uilleam, inner strength and protector.

Ten things I love:

1. He is a terrorist and a love and a wild-eyed giggle monster who thinks he's five.
2. He loves to bite the dogs' ears.
3. He can fake tears and then laugh about it.
4. He runs to me and gives me "big hugs".
5. He loves karate and has an incredible kiai.
6. His curls!
7. His ability to outsmart every obstacle intended to keep him from the stairs, the sink, the toilet, the hall, the outside, the outlets, i.e. everywhere he shouldn't be.
8. When he gives me a zerbert on my belly and then belly laughs about it until he falls over.
9. He loves his brothers and sisters so much that he cries when they leave him for class.
10. I get to love him.

Oppan Gangnam Style.

DAY NINE - 9 November 2012
My car on the way home sounds like a (really bad) high school musical audition.

First there is my five year old singing, in his deepest, most bad-ass voice, "Oppan gangnam style! Eh- sexy lady!" I don't think there is anything funnier right now than listening to him. Really, you have to trust me on this. It's freaking hilarious.

Almost as entertaining is my seven year old singing, "I could be your Buzz Lightyear, fly across the globe" (lyrics courtesy of that musical genius, the Bieb).

Heartwarming and touching is my one year old singing, "Tinka tinka up up up," which loosely translates to "Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are."

Above this lyrical cacophony is the uplifting tune of "Hot Cross Buns," being played at top screech on his beloved recorder by the nine year old in the back seat.

I nurse my migraines with both wine and ibuprofen. I rub my temples because honestly, without naming names, some of my children couldn't carry a tune if I crazy-glued it to their palms. I get teary-eyed, patiently waiting for the musical chaos to cease. I grind my teeth, hoping to ease the auditory pain by replacing it with a nice little case of TMJ. At this point, I am sure you are right there with me, wondering where in the hell this is going and how it could possibly end on a note of gratitude. Believe me, I ask myself the same thing as each day's music lesson begins and I, for the first time each day, am thankful for the slight hearing loss I have due to too many concerts in the days of yore.

There is, at the end of it all, a moment where the screeching, screaming, tra-la-la-ing ends and there is a pause; though I am thankful for that pause, that is not where my gratitude lies. It is in that, regardless of how good they are or how much room there is to improve, my children LOVE music. They love listening to it, singing it, dancing to it, making it, reading it, playing it, living it. They want to play instruments, be in the choir, dance across the room, and sing everything at the top of their lungs as if the whole world needed to hear (and, need it or not, they do!). So, once the ibuprofen kicks in, I smile at their love of and passion for any sound that resonates not just within the frame of the car, but inside themselves, as well.

Mr. Chatterbox.

DAY EIGHT - 8 November 2012 (on 9 November 2012....one day I will get back on top of this)

HE CAN TALK. That's right, folks, Uilleam can talk. It's not much, it's not clear, it's not always, but it's there. It happens, even in the right context! "Bye bye", "ball", "Aiko", "hello", "puppy", "Momma", "Taidhgin", "hay" (don't ask), "belly", "cup", "Daddy", and a handful more...not a lot, I know. I get it. I have one of my own who could speak in complete sentences at 18 months, so I know that Uilleam's handful of words is not impressive by most people's standards.

But -
for a kid who was so early in his birth, so delayed in his speech and in his hearing, and so used to having three other children talk for him, this is TOTALLY AWESOME.

Thank you for your words, sweet boy. Momma loves you.

Where Are My Shoes?

DAY SEVEN - 7 November 2012
Well, well, well...couldn't even make it a week before I fell off the wagon. It's a wonder I actually remember to put on shoes in the morning these days, let alone take some time at night to give thanks. Yet somehow I do remember my shoes...and not the blog. Priorities. Tsk, tsk.

Before Day Eight starts to wrap up, I wanted to make sure that I had taken a moment or two to reflect on Day Seven. Of course, I am reflecting on Day Eight, so it's really your call as to how you would like this post applied. In my mind, however, I am still thinking back to yesterday, having had my thoughts last evening cut unfairly short by my body's need for sleep (i.e. I passed out cold).

Yesterday was a long day, literally and figuratively. Much of my day was spent traveling between schools and dojos and classes and work and home...with time spent each place reviewing homework and grading papers and watching classes and buying dinner and maintaining a loose grasp on my functional capabilities. With the whirlwind that is our lives, I often take for granted that the whirlwind itself- 99% awesome and 1% hell (ok, maybe it's more a 60/40 split some days) is something that, in and of itself, I am so privileged to have. There are so many people- and many in our lives- for whom the number of activities and events and things they do is not an option not because they don't want to, but because they truly cannot afford to, financially or otherwise. There are days when I wish we didn't have as much going on as we do; I know there are even more days when other people wish they did.

So, for as tired as I am, as full as my calendar is, and as much I would love a whole week to myself, I cannot continue without at least acknowledging that what we have and what can have is more than enough...and for that I am so very, very thankful.