The Adventures of Truman and Fletcher- boy

In about 2 weeks my sweet Fletch will turn 7, a joyous celebration will occur much like the day he was born.  Much like the day I found out I was expecting.  Very much unlike the day about 11 months prior to his arrival when I could no longer carry the child growing inside me. On the day when that child stopped growing, but could not safely, or naturally leave my body.   I see the signs that say “value them both” and my blood boils.  This argument, while based in what I truly believe is a good place, is flawed.  It only assumes that life is made and life is born.  But we all know that life is messy.  It's not clean.  It's not easy.  Creating a life, and especially a healthy one, is a miracle.  It requires a million things to come together at the perfect time.  And when I see those signs, I am angry.  Because I am alive, and my child is alive and we deserve to be alive. So why not honor my existence and that of my child bec...

A penny for your thoughts.  I’ve got a million. But as I grasp for the thoughts I find myself still reaching, coming up empty.  Feeling lost and like I’ve lost.  Except I haven’t.  I’m one of the lucky ones.  My heart hurts, but not in the same way as a mother who has lost her child. Not in the way that a mother plays back the last words, the last touch… the last everything.   I sit here sick with grief for this village we call parenthood. Sick with anger, and sick with fear. Sick of posts like this.  I sit here with a million thoughts and questions.  I sit here helpless, yet always hopeful. Hopeful for healing. Hopeful for change. Hopeful for safety.  It’s naive to a certain degree, I’ll give you that, but without that hope how else do I find the courage? The courage to fight. The courage to raise boys to become men who recognize their emotions and do not flee from them, but to speak to them and face them.  There’s no politics to debate...

22?  So who finds it ironic that it’s 2022,  22 months since the world shut down and we are again looking at a school closure due to Covid?   Heard these lyrics earlier today from our friend Taylor Swift.  “don't know about you But I'm feeling 22 Everything will be alright if You keep me next to you” Well I know about me, and so far I’m not feeling ‘22.. January is generally a dark month for many. It’s gray, we take down our Christmas decor and did I mention it’s gray? And then in marches Covid, yet again, to remind us that we’re still in this.  That it doesn’t matter who’s next to us, because right now it’s not alright.  ( and this is NOT a post about severity of disease, vaccine efficacy, etc.  This is a post about MY feelings ) A text came through on Sunday afternoon stating that school would be canceled for a few days.  We’re too short staffed to operstd our schools. Thank goodness only a few days and not indefinitely like before.  But st...

 Behind the fence I have to let go.  I can control nothing but my emotions .  I can’t control theirs.  And some days ( today) that’s easier said than done.  A strike out leads to tears.  A bat hit into the ground for theatrics.  More tears . I get frustrated at their frustration. I react.  Bigger than I should.  ( turns out that doesn’t help anyone) And now those big emotions are even more unstable and out of control.  But what do you do when it’s more than that? What do you do when the emotions are bigger than the child can handle?  Do you intervene?  Do you address it later ?  I don’t have the answer, I’m genuinely asking . Tonight my small human struggled. Not only in public but also at home.  It took tremendous patience to wait it out.  He was embarrassed, frustrated and his little body literally quaked with too much energy.  I could feel the anxious beat of his heart , which echoed my own. But eventuall...

Nearly 8 months ago I wrote these words and I can still feel the emotions that accompanied them.  "I laid in the dark, early morning hours this morning knowing that in a few hours my kiddos would walk into school.  Tru, for the first time in six months, Fletcher for the first time.  And there have been so many emotions to fill this day. " The emotions hit different today.  Joy.  Relief.  Gratitude.  Amazement.  Eight months ago, I thought there was no way we'd make it to this day.  Heck, I wasn't sure we'd make it past the first month. But we did.. and then one turned in to two, fall turned to winter, 100 days passed and now the last day.  So here we are.  The conclusion of another year.  Backpacks came home ,just like they always do, filled with a years worth of  work and learning, snacks that should have been tossed long ago and (a new addition this year) an abandoned mask or two.  But it pretty much looks the same....

I saw something on the news tonight about finding the last picture on your phone before the lockdown happened .    I found a video of Truman and myself walking to soccer practice on March 10th, one year ago today.    Mere days before all we knew was different.  The boys then started looking through pictures with me from last March on.    Lots of walks, snuggles and crafts.    They said things like “that was fun” and “you made that really cool”. As much as the last year has been hard (not shown in photos were the many tears and freak outs)and as much as I feel like I’ve failed over and over again.. I need to remember the perspective of these boys and know that it’s been ok.     ❤️ Looking through pictures is different than it was before.    Pictures from 2019 feel different from 2020.    2020 pictures automatically raise my heart rate.    Those pictures transport me back and clearly remind me of the...

How it started and how it’s going memes seem to be all the rage right now.  Heck I even shared a picture recently with this caption just to jump on the band wagon.  When I see them, I can't help but think of how this pandemic started for me and where I am almost a year later.  Right now year old memories pop up on my phone reminding me of dinners  out, no masks , school events, birthday parties and more.   These memories make me happy as I see our smiling faces, but it also makes me want to jump into those photos and prepare the people in them for the changes right around the corner.  How naïve I feel when I look back.  And how much anxiety I feel now for the me of a year ago.  She doesn't know what's coming, and wouldn't believe me if I could sneak back in time and tell her.  We’re weeks away from the anniversary of school cancellation, lockdowns and the change of life as we had previously known it.   Over the past few months I think I'...

We got an email today that Fletcher will soon be celebrating the 100th day of school.  When I read that email I was overcome by a wave of memories.  I remembered sitting in Fletcher’s room on the early days of the school year that came to him via screen.  I remember his teacher talking about counting up to 100 and placing straws in calendar placeholders. Planning for the days ahead of them.   100 days of school is normally worthy of celebration, but this year we should have a parade.  A float for the virtual kids.  A float for the hybrid kids.  A float for the in person kids.  A float for the parents. And the Grand Marshals at the end — our educators. And lining the streets?- all of us.  This year has been so.. nope, not going to say it, I won’t say unprecedented.  Doh! I said it.  You hear it everywhere and it’s easy to say. A friend pointed out the other day that word is a trigger and I couldn’t agree more.  This past year ha...

Time is interesting, because it's always the same.  Our interpretation and our experience with time are what make it feel like it goes by quickly or drags on. Take today for example, today is the last day of 2020.. a day that nearly ten months ago seemed like an eternity away.  A day that so many have circled on the calendar as a beacon of hope, more so than most years.  And now it's here, 8 hours until the clock strikes midnight.  Like the rest of the world I'm full of reflection on a year unlike any other.   I could sit here and talk about all I've learned to be grateful for, all I've missed and all I look forward to, but instead, I'd like to write a letter to the small humans in my house.   Dear Boys,  I am proud of you.  I am proud of your strength, courage, kindness and resilience.  This year I asked more of you and expected more of you than was probably fair at times. Everything changed for you, in a moment.  It was scary...

Last night, I awoke at 250 in the morning.. as I've done more often than I'd like to admit during this pandemic, full of panic and worry.  Everything culminates and the anxiety presents itself as a dynamic case of insomnia that not even a heavy blanket can cure.  But sometimes, its brings me thoughts that have to be put down on paper.. so here ya go.  The marathon is often used as an example of perseverance.  "It's a marathon, not a sprint" people say when they want to make you feel better when  you're in the thick of things.  Well here we are friends.. in. the. thick. of. things.   Years ago, when time and my knees were more forgiving I used to run marathons.  I embraced the duration of the training, adhered to the strict schedule and celebrated the time in front of me knowing it ended with an accomplishment.  Sounds kind of familiar to current state, right?  There's a vaccine that's now being distributed, so there is a finish line...

I laid in the dark, early morning hours this morning knowing that in a few hours my kiddos would walk into school.  Tru, for the first time in six months, Fletcher for the first time.  And there have been so many emotions to fill this day.  In a petulant fashion, I’m mad at the rain for taking away our ability to walk to school together with our friends as we’ve done the past few years.  But that’s ok, traditions can take some tweaking and there will be plenty of beautiful weather walks to school. And an impromptu parking lot meeting worked just fine.  I’m nervous.  This is the first time in SIX months that I will have been away from my children for more than a few hours. And although I know it will be so good for all of us, it still feels unsettling.  Not knowing what they’re doing and how they’re doing ( and knowing I can’t pop down the hallway to find out ) feels odd after all this time.  I’m happy.. because they’re happy.  They picked out...

 ‘Twas the night before school  But not like you think  We’ll be at home in the morning  Signing on with a link  We’ll Zoom with our teachers  As we wave through a screen We’ll fill time with our specials  And lots of P.E.  The longest spring break Also stretched into summer  But not everything has been such a bummer We shared lots of giggles and went on long walks And shared what scared us through thoughtful talks  I hope these days are remembered well  Even if we didn’t focus on words to spell Patience and kindness should be packed for the days ahead  As we remember what others before us have said. “Resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it’s less good than the one you had before.  You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you’ve lost, or you can accept that and try to put together something that’s good.”   - Elizabeth Edwards 

I was on a call today and a word I kept hearing repeated was “grace”.  ( I think I uttered it a time or two myself). Have grace with yourself, your kids, our educators.  And it got me to thinking...  A few months ago my office shut down and I had to figure out my new work situation.  Where was I going to sit, how was I going to balance work and kids, what about my equipment, and so on and so forth .  And over the past few months I’ve adapted, acquired what I need, accepted ideas from others to make me more comfortable and generally just figured things out.  The luxury of time and privacy have been mine. And as our educators step in to the school year they’re doing the same thing.  Trying to figure out what works, how to adapt but with the scrutiny of kids, parents and peers.  I got to hide in my house in sweats and some days I still ended up in tears.  So teachers, I see you , I trust you and I support you as you try to figure this out with t...

 Fun fact about me: I hate roller coasters. Always have. Totally irrational fear. I feel like my feet are going to get cut off. The amusement park industry says its rides are safe, estimating the ​chances​ of being injured at one in 24 million. The chance of being killed at one in 750 million, according to the International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions. The odds are pretty good there, but I don’t get on them. I hold on tight to the sense of control I have by standing on the ground watching others shriek with delight, or is that terror? You know what really stinks? Right now, my life feels like a roller coaster. Every day is filled with ups and downs, except this ride, ​“Life in a Pandemic​”, isn’t one I can sit out. So how does someone who longs to control things in her life handle the fact that so many things are outside of my control? How do I find joy when everywhere I look is bad news? How do I wake up each day, put a smile on my face and tackle the roller coa...

I last blogged about 10 months ago.. and am not sure that there will be enough space here to capture what life has been like the last 10 months.  After losing the baby last fall.. life went on, as it always does.  The Royals went on a historic run to the World Series, and we were there to see all of it. Truman had a blast, and I can only hope that those memories will be long lasting. The games were fun, but as I celebrated each win, I did so with feelings of emptiness and a good amount of guilt.  How could I be cheering, celebrating when just weeks before I had lost so much?  I was terribly conflicted... Work continued, runs continued, but all the while, it felt like there was something missing.  Until Thanksgiving. When we were able to give thanks for the gift that was growing inside of me. The first trip to the doctor was positive.. all the blood work looked good, as did the first few ultrasounds.. we were in business.  The first trimester passed easily...

3.120.2700.54. 9. All these numbers hold a meaning.  But let me start at the beginning, because they will make more sense that way. Estes Park, CO is a beautiful place.  It sits about 7500 feet above sea level, and on a good night,without the moon shining, you can see what seems like a million shooting stars.  So one August night, curled up in a blanket to shield myself from the cool mountain breeze, as a star fell across the sky, I shut my eyes tight, held my breath and I wished for another life to join our family.  I laughed off my wish as quickly as the star faded from the sky, because honestly as beautiful as the star streaming across the sky was, I knew that a wish is just that... a wish.  We had a great vacation, but by the end of the vacation the altitude was certainly getting to me.. and me me wonder.  Was it the altitude, or was it the magical shooting star flaming out across the sky carrying my wish with it?  And the day we got home from va...

Wow 2013....you really brought it.  From the really good, to the really bad, this year had it all.  I really felt as if I grew as a person, a mother, a boss and a friend.  So I'll try to recap, because let's be honest, my blogging was a bit hit or miss this year. We finally caught our breath after the holidays and the big move in December.  The routine we all so desperately craved returned and life was normal, at least our version of normal.  :)  The house, which was new and different, felt perfect...felt as if it was the place we always belonged.  The kitchen found itself humming as friends sat around the island sharing stories, laughs and even a few tears.  The first nicks found their way into the floors, dust started to settle into the corners and decor crept into rooms. And even the small, warm space in bed that once belonged to Skippy started to feel less empty as each morning a snuggly toddler filled it.  Life, like our house, slowly ...

Saying good bye to a loved one is funny, not ha-ha, but interesting in that you think you've said 'good-bye' but then another experience sneaks up on you.  Another time that you requires you to say 'good-bye'. This weekend I ran the Kansas City half-marathon, a race I had planned to run with my friends Andrea and Michelle.  Instead, on Saturday, Michelle and I ran...with an empty space between us, and an empty space in our heart.  We decided that instead of running for speed, we would just enjoy ourselves while we celebrated our friend.  So with a picture of her on our backs, that is exactly what we did.  We took our time:  we kissed our babies and high fived exuberant children, we commented on the beauty all around us, and we left a flower at every mile.  We held hands as we crossed the finish line, and kneeled down to leave a final rose at the finish.  We carried her with us for 13.1 miles and embraced each other as the emotion of the day over...

We went to the Royals game tonight...and you had a blast. You clapped, waved to the players, mowed through a pretzel and made friends with everyone sitting around us.  You and Dad even made it on tv( I guess I did too, but all you could see were my fingers holding the "I'm spending my 2nd birthday at the K" sign).  All in all...a pretty solid 2nd birthday.  It started to drizzle, and you were tired so we decided to head out.  We made it as far as the edge of the parking lot before your breathing settled into deep, slumbering breaths and your eye lids fluttered with dreams.  When we got home I carried you in to the house and enjoyed every second of you snoring on my shoulder.  As I changed you in to your pajamas, and took a second to snuggle you, I couldn't help but transport myself back two years ago.  This time 2 years ago, you were 8 hours old. I had only been blessed with the chance to hold you once, but once was all it took to get me hooked.  ...

So this blog is clearly not only about my child(as I originally thought it would be), but about life--my experiences, my hopes and fears, my lessons and whatever else comes to mind.  It's about moments I want to freeze in time, and as I'll discuss later, moments I wish I could just forget.   I've sat down to write this post more than once, and it has ended, more than once, with a blank page and a closed browser.  Is it because I'm not ready to write it yet...possibly.  It is because I still don't know what to say...entirely.   I want to write about the loss of my friend, but I want it to be right.  I want to say the right things and feel the right things...but more than anything, I want the message to be right.  I don't want it to be filled with anger, which if I wrote it today would probably find its' way into my words.  While I don't think my anger is unjustified, it's also not the lasting message I want to present.  I am also at a l...