As some of you know, Jim and I were married in Jamaica, in a gazebo, overlooking the ocean. Not long after that, we were swimming in the warm, turquoise water. There was a platform, for sunbathers, floating out in the deep water, and Jim and I were lying on our bellies, talking, when he suddenly pointed to his left hand. "My ring!!", he exclaimed. "It fell off while we were swimming!" We had been married less than a week, and his ring was gone? I couldn't believe our rotten luck.
He rushed over to the place where the resort had snorkels and masks that everyone could use. The guy was closing, but Jim pleaded with him, explaining about the ring, so he let us have them. I have no idea how long we swam around, searching the ocean floor, which was covered with seaweed, but it felt like forever. It was going to be getting dark soon. I was losing hope, when I had a flashback to an experience I had six years earlier...
Driving back to the apartment I shared with two other girls, all attending graduate school, I heard an ad on the radio. A certain airline was selling tickets to Europe cheap. I had always dreamed of going to Europe someday, and with the money I had inherited from my grandfather, I could afford it. Sort of. I'd have to do it "on the cheap", but I could go. When I got home that night I told my roommate, "I think we should go to Europe". She laughed until she realized I was serious. I somehow convinced her.
On the day I was remembering, we had done a lot of sight seeing. We had a wonderful travel book with details about everything - must sees, great restaurants, local treasures, places to get a bargain, etc. We stopped somewhere for me to take a picture, and I realized in horror that my camera was missing! It wasn't even mine! It was my mom's and she had loaned it to me for the trip.
My friend and I searched a few places, but didn't find it. I was near tears when she said, "Hey, I remember reading something about a saint that you are supposed to pray to when something is lost - St. Anthony". As we stood there like crazy people, praying on a cobblestone street in Venice, I had a vision - my camera sitting on the counter at the gelati stand! St. Anthony came to my rescue!
I looked over at Jim, looking desperately for any glimmer of gold on the huge ocean floor, and I started to pray, "St. Anthony please hear my prayer..." Seconds later, (no kidding), Jim sprung out of the water - holding the ring!! And that was the moment that I converted to Catholicism. (Not really) I did write a poem in his honor, though. Here's part of it...
...Anthony, why are you
so good to me?
I don't go to church
or pray faithfully.
Don't go to confession
I sin, and I curse.
I don't think I've
memorized one Bible verse...
Now, I may not be perfect,
I'm a sinner for sure.
I'm not famous, or noble,
haven't discovered a cure.
But St. Anthony must see
something good in me,
because I've been worthy
of not one miracle, but three!*
*Besides the camera, and the ring, there was one other thing I lost that he helped me find. I only ask him for help when I've lost something major. If I ever completely lose my mind, for instance, he'll be the first one I go to for help).
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Play With Me
Lately, Dylan has been saying this one sentence all the time, which is going to ruin me. He says, in this sad, slightly whiny voice, "Mommy, I want you to play with me!" I hear it when I am unloading the dishwasher. I hear it when I'm cleaning up after dinner. I hear it when I'm putting away laundry. I hear it while I'm checking emails. It tugs at my heart, and weakens my knees, and more often than not, I find myself with my hand in his, being led off to play. I can't resist it. The words are too powerful, the feelings too pure.
I feel needed, and I like it. Yes, he will always need me, but not like this. He won't always be this small, this innocent, this trusting. I won't always be the center of his world. I won't always be able to fit him in my lap. I won't always be able to make him laugh, by doing something silly. I won't always be the person he wants to play with.
Being a nanny, I have worked with many busy families. There lives are jam packed with work, meetings, exercise, errands, soccer practice, play dates, recitals, lessons, etc. The older kids weren't whining , "Mom/Dad I want you to play with me", but I felt it. They were crying out on the inside. They wanted time to just talk to their moms and dads, to lie on the grass, to play a game, to make a birdhouse or a sandcastle or a memory. There it is - the hardest part of being a parent, in my opinion. How do you juggle it all? How do you find time to spend with your family, and still do all the things that your role as mom (or dad) requires?
Personally, instead of saying, "I'll play with you after I...", I want to spend more time saying, "I'll X, after I play with you". The house will always be there, the dishes will wait, there will always be more laundry, but my kid will only be this age for a short time. I want to play.
I feel needed, and I like it. Yes, he will always need me, but not like this. He won't always be this small, this innocent, this trusting. I won't always be the center of his world. I won't always be able to fit him in my lap. I won't always be able to make him laugh, by doing something silly. I won't always be the person he wants to play with.
Being a nanny, I have worked with many busy families. There lives are jam packed with work, meetings, exercise, errands, soccer practice, play dates, recitals, lessons, etc. The older kids weren't whining , "Mom/Dad I want you to play with me", but I felt it. They were crying out on the inside. They wanted time to just talk to their moms and dads, to lie on the grass, to play a game, to make a birdhouse or a sandcastle or a memory. There it is - the hardest part of being a parent, in my opinion. How do you juggle it all? How do you find time to spend with your family, and still do all the things that your role as mom (or dad) requires?
Personally, instead of saying, "I'll play with you after I...", I want to spend more time saying, "I'll X, after I play with you". The house will always be there, the dishes will wait, there will always be more laundry, but my kid will only be this age for a short time. I want to play.
Friday, April 24, 2009
A Great Day
I work on Mondays and Tuesdays. On Tuesday nights, I frequently exclaim, "Tomorrow, it's a Mommy/Dylan day!" He usually just smiles, or says, "Yea".
Yesterday, after we ate breakfast, I bent down to take Dylan out of his booster seat. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, placed his head on my shoulder, and hugged me. Then he said, "It's a Mommy/Dylan day! YAY!" What a great start to my day! That was how it began, and this is how it ended...
What a great day!
Yesterday, after we ate breakfast, I bent down to take Dylan out of his booster seat. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, placed his head on my shoulder, and hugged me. Then he said, "It's a Mommy/Dylan day! YAY!" What a great start to my day! That was how it began, and this is how it ended...
What a great day!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I Want To Stop, But I Can't
If you've been a fan of "Lost" since the beginning, help me out here. Why did you start watching it? I'm not sure why I did. I've never been a big fan of mysteries. I think it must have been the hype. That, and the fact that the people who worked on the previews of the show are genius. I'm sure casting these two didn't hurt...
The first season, I was intrigued. What was going on? Who were these people? How were they all connected, and how were they going to get off that darn island? This season, I'm totally over it. They got off the island(some of them), and CAME BACK. Anticlimactic, yes?
Now, it has warped into some time travel acid trip that gets more confusing with each episode. There are so many plot twists and new characters being introduced, that I need an outline or a cheat sheet to keep it all straight. I am convinced the writers have no clue what direction the story is going in. I think they all smoke weed before writing each episode. I am convinced they are all laughing at us for being hooked. The title "Lost" has more to do with the viewers state of mind, than the characters' dilemma.
Each time I watch the show, I can be heard screaming, "WHAT?!", "HUH?!", "OH, COME ON!". Jim said that the best part of watching the show is seeing my reactions. I frequently shout out, "Another hour of my life I'll never get back!", after watching it, but a week later, I'm glued to the screen again. I've invested too much time in this story to not "finish the book". It's like a relationship that I know is bad, but I stay because I've been in it so long. I don't want to admit that it's been a complete waste of time. I need to know what's going to happen. I need answers to these questions. I need secrets to be revealed. I need someone to tell me I'm not the only one who is hopelessly "Lost".
The first season, I was intrigued. What was going on? Who were these people? How were they all connected, and how were they going to get off that darn island? This season, I'm totally over it. They got off the island(some of them), and CAME BACK. Anticlimactic, yes?
Now, it has warped into some time travel acid trip that gets more confusing with each episode. There are so many plot twists and new characters being introduced, that I need an outline or a cheat sheet to keep it all straight. I am convinced the writers have no clue what direction the story is going in. I think they all smoke weed before writing each episode. I am convinced they are all laughing at us for being hooked. The title "Lost" has more to do with the viewers state of mind, than the characters' dilemma.
Each time I watch the show, I can be heard screaming, "WHAT?!", "HUH?!", "OH, COME ON!". Jim said that the best part of watching the show is seeing my reactions. I frequently shout out, "Another hour of my life I'll never get back!", after watching it, but a week later, I'm glued to the screen again. I've invested too much time in this story to not "finish the book". It's like a relationship that I know is bad, but I stay because I've been in it so long. I don't want to admit that it's been a complete waste of time. I need to know what's going to happen. I need answers to these questions. I need secrets to be revealed. I need someone to tell me I'm not the only one who is hopelessly "Lost".
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Mall
Yesterday, we took Dylan to the mall. We were letting Dylan play in the Mr. Rogers Play Area, along with a mass of other children and their stressed out parents. One stressed dad, whose son walked over to him in bare feet, right next to where we were, shouted sarcastically to his son, "Why did you take your socks off?! Why are you walking around in bare feet?! ARE WE AT THE BEACH?!"
Dylan looked at him, and shouted, "NO, WE'RE AT THE MALL!!!" That shut him up. : )
Dylan looked at him, and shouted, "NO, WE'RE AT THE MALL!!!" That shut him up. : )
First Golf
On Saturday, we went to a birthday party for my friend's son, who turned 7. Dylan was the youngest kid there. It was held at a glow in the dark mini-golf place. I wasn't sure if I should take him, because I knew the place would be pitch black, and he has never been golfing before, and I was sure he would terrorize the other golfers, stealing their balls, and running off to place them in random holes.
It went better than I expected. I keep telling Jim, when dealing with children, you have to lower your expectations, then you are happily surprised if things go marginally well. The place was playing some great 80's dance music, and there was no music class this week, so basically Dylan NEEDED to get his groove on. A lot. We had a hard time getting him to come into the room with the birthday festivities.
We let him do his own thing on the golf course - as long as he wasn't bothering anyone else. He hit the ball a few times, but mainly just wanted to climb the neon green walls, and throw the ball up the scary clown ramp.
(He's dancing in this one).
It went better than I expected. I keep telling Jim, when dealing with children, you have to lower your expectations, then you are happily surprised if things go marginally well. The place was playing some great 80's dance music, and there was no music class this week, so basically Dylan NEEDED to get his groove on. A lot. We had a hard time getting him to come into the room with the birthday festivities.
We let him do his own thing on the golf course - as long as he wasn't bothering anyone else. He hit the ball a few times, but mainly just wanted to climb the neon green walls, and throw the ball up the scary clown ramp.
(He's dancing in this one).
Eggs for the Farm
We've been really busy, and I want to document it all, but don't have the time, so I'm doing 3 posts today to catch up.
On Friday, I was supposed to meet a friend and her 3 sons at the farm. When I told Dylan that we would be going after his nap, he said, "Nap, now?!", so you could say that he was excited. I had to wake him up from his nap, because we were going to be late. That is never a good idea, because if you wake him up before he is ready, he is whiny. I got him dressed, and tried to rush him down the stairs to get his shoes on. We made it down, but then he stopped, and said, "I need the X!" He went back up, repeating over and over, "I need the X!" Problem was, I had no idea what he was saying. He just stood at the top of the stairs looking pitiful, whining about the X. I looked at my watch, and got more anxious by the second, but as I looked at him, I could tell this could go one of two ways. One, I could yell that he needed to hurry up, grab him and carry him down the stairs, and try to shove his crying, kicking self into his shoes, at which point he would grow hysterical, flinging himself onto the floor and sobbing because he needs his dang X. Two, I could try the sympathetic, caring approach. Luckily, I picked two.
"Dylan, honey, what do you need for the farm?"
"The eggs!" (the poor kid was really looking pitiful at this point)
(It finally hit me that he was saying "eggs", and that he was talking about his plastic Easter eggs. I took a deep breath, willing myself to be calm, and asked...)
"Why do you need your eggs for the farm?"
He looked at me with the cutest little face, and said, "To give the chickens!"
(Okay, WonderMommy, now what?, I asked myself.)
"Dylan, that is so nice of you, that you want to bring the eggs for the chickens, but the chickens already have all the eggs they need. The ducks really need some bread, though. Do you think we could bring the ducks some bread?)
His sad little face changed into a grin, and he shouted, "YEA!" (Man, I love that kid!)
So, we had a fun day at the farm, despite the fact that my friend's little boys got sick and she had to cancel last minute, and those D$@# ducks wouldn't eat any of our bread!
"Whoa! That's a big turkey!"
(He grabbed a fistful of grass and fed the cow! Is he afraid of anything?! Luckily he still has all his fingers.)
"Ducks?! I'm not happy with you, ducks".
On Friday, I was supposed to meet a friend and her 3 sons at the farm. When I told Dylan that we would be going after his nap, he said, "Nap, now?!", so you could say that he was excited. I had to wake him up from his nap, because we were going to be late. That is never a good idea, because if you wake him up before he is ready, he is whiny. I got him dressed, and tried to rush him down the stairs to get his shoes on. We made it down, but then he stopped, and said, "I need the X!" He went back up, repeating over and over, "I need the X!" Problem was, I had no idea what he was saying. He just stood at the top of the stairs looking pitiful, whining about the X. I looked at my watch, and got more anxious by the second, but as I looked at him, I could tell this could go one of two ways. One, I could yell that he needed to hurry up, grab him and carry him down the stairs, and try to shove his crying, kicking self into his shoes, at which point he would grow hysterical, flinging himself onto the floor and sobbing because he needs his dang X. Two, I could try the sympathetic, caring approach. Luckily, I picked two.
"Dylan, honey, what do you need for the farm?"
"The eggs!" (the poor kid was really looking pitiful at this point)
(It finally hit me that he was saying "eggs", and that he was talking about his plastic Easter eggs. I took a deep breath, willing myself to be calm, and asked...)
"Why do you need your eggs for the farm?"
He looked at me with the cutest little face, and said, "To give the chickens!"
(Okay, WonderMommy, now what?, I asked myself.)
"Dylan, that is so nice of you, that you want to bring the eggs for the chickens, but the chickens already have all the eggs they need. The ducks really need some bread, though. Do you think we could bring the ducks some bread?)
His sad little face changed into a grin, and he shouted, "YEA!" (Man, I love that kid!)
So, we had a fun day at the farm, despite the fact that my friend's little boys got sick and she had to cancel last minute, and those D$@# ducks wouldn't eat any of our bread!
"Whoa! That's a big turkey!"
(He grabbed a fistful of grass and fed the cow! Is he afraid of anything?! Luckily he still has all his fingers.)
"Ducks?! I'm not happy with you, ducks".
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