Rewrite The Scars

My friend is a girl you might know. 

At one time in her life she was a world renowned wedding dress designer who was featured on Say Yes To The Dress.

I was invited to provide a cake for a "Meet the Designer Trunk Show" at a bridal salon in Delaware. 

That's how we met. 

She looked at the cake I'd created for the event and said she felt like she could create a dress based on the cake. 

I wanted to jump out of my skin with excitement. 

I was so nervous and she was so gracious.  

I was immediately taken by her genuine authenticity. 

Seriously, she may be one of the nicest people on the face of the earth. 

After that event we stayed in touch and I did another event with her the following year. 

A little back story here: Nearly 15 years ago this amazing woman signed a contract with a wedding dress design house that gave her her own named dress line! 

It was a dream come true for any designer. 

Because she is a glass half-full type of person, was so excited and flattered that it never crossed her mind that someone would do something that would cause her harm and did not have a lawyer review the contract before she signing.

When she asked questions, they said she could renegotiate any potential issues. 

Well, that turned out to not be true. 

Not only did they not allow her to renegotiate the contract but they stopped paying her, took her social media accounts, any sketches of any type of dresses and they took her name. 

Yes, you read that correctly, she is no longer allowed to use her birth name. 

Evidently it was written into the contract that she signed. Yes, she signed it but, in my opinion, there is a special place in hell for businesses and owners who operate so unethically. They knew what they were doing when they put that in there in the first place! 

Anyway, fast forward a few years, many thousands of dollars and many court battles later...She still cannot use her name, she is barred from working in the wedding industry for five years because of the non-compete clause but she did get her pictures back from her social media accounts. 

And... she has a new name. 

She is Cheval. 

She is powerful, strong, kind, loving, sweet, wonderful, smart, funny and a genuinely good person. 

She is also now a shoe designer! 

I know, right?! 

Her shoes are amazing! Not only are they beautiful but I wore a pair, right out of the box, for her launch party and they were stupid comfortable! 

Once I decided to forego reconstruction after my  double mastectomy I made the decision to get a tattoo. 

She is Cheval

I reached out to Cheval to see if she'd be interested in designing it for me. The only thing I told her was that  it had to have a pink ribbon in it and I wanted florals.

She did the rest. 

The design is amazing! It needed a very minor amount of tweaking to make it perfect. I was so excited when I got the first drawing that booked the appointment months ago. 

Today I had my first sitting. 

Some parts hurt like a mother f$cker and some I didn't even feel. 

When they cut off the boobs I lost a lot of sensation in those areas of my chest but the center was crazy painful. 

Getting the color done will hurt too but..

It's already worth it. 

Once my tattoo artist, Aly was finished and I looked in the mirror I almost cried. 

For almost a year and a half all I've seen was scars. 

Today I saw beauty. 

A beautiful design created by one of the most beautiful and resilient poeple I have met in my life. 

I am blessed to call her friend and honored to wear her art. 

                                                You can follow She is Cheval on Instagram 

Sharing My Experience

Every three weeks I go to the infusion center for my Herceptin. 

What is Herceptin? 

Herceptin (chemical name: trastuzumab) is a HER2 inhibitor targeted therapy. Herceptin works against HER2-positive breast cancers by blocking the ability of the cancer cells to receive chemical signals that tell the cells to grow. Breastcancer.org.

I don't actually get Herceptin, I get another drug called Kanjinti that is chemically similar and achieves the same result...and they have a copay assistance program which is a huge help financially. 

There is no denying that I am weird, crazy, insane...whatever, but I really do look forward to going to infusions. 

Even when I was getting chemo I looked forward to being there. The staff, nurses and doctors are some of the nicest poeple on the face of the earth. The aftermath of chemo was tough but the people are amazing. 

In anticipation of losing my hair, friends sent me fun hats to wear and I have continued to wear hats or outfits throughout the additional treatments. 

The staff has told me that get excited when they see my name on the roster! They even talk about what they think I'm going to do.

The infusion I had in March was the Friday before St. Patrick's day. I decided it was close enough to roll with that as a theme. . 

I found a really fun headband that blinked and a shirt that said, "Who Needs Luck, I have Charm"

As I was getting into my car I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, giggled and thought, "I love my life." 

And I do. I really do. 

Looking back at this past year one would questions my sanity. 

Seriously, it's been one shit sandwich after another but...I'm alive! 

I have so much to be grateful for! 

I have a loving hubby, two amazing boys, two incredible businesses, an amazing business partner, and incredible assistant and wonderful, loving friends. I'm on the downhill side of becoming a cancer survivor, I've met some of the most amazing people you can imagine and I have been able to make people laugh in the midst of the turmoil that is cancer treatment. 

Yes, I am blessed. 

I get to make people laugh. 

I look forward to those laughs. 

Working on outfits and themes gave me a purpose during chemo. I was able to focus on how I could be funny instead of feeling miserable. 

And now, I can be a guide for others who are starting on the path. 

I don't have answers but I do have experience that I can share. 

I recently went to see a friend who is going through chemo for ovarian cancer. Her chemo is a different cocktail than mine was but the acid reflux and nausea that it induces is the same. She had been eating Tums to no avail. I brought her a baggie of Gaviscon chewables and told her to take Nexium (after she'd checked with a pharmacist) because it had worked wonders on me. 

Guess what? It works for her too! The Gaviscon is a game changer. That stuff is a miracle in a chewable! 

We sat and talked a just bitched about the ravages of chemo on our bodies and the irritation of chemo brain - it's real people!

I was able to commiserate as I'd "been there done that" already and my experience was close enough to offer hope that this too shall pass and she can get on with life. 

I also gave her a super fun shirt. When she pulled it out of the little gift baggy I had stuffed it into she laughed. 

Making her laugh made my heart happy! 

Nails and Blessings

Chemo is over but the side effects aren't. 

Predominantly my nails. Both toes and fingers. 

I have almost no big toenails, I am losing two more toenails on my left foot and my fingernails hurt like hell. 

Have you ever bent your fingernails backwards? Yeah, me too. That's what all 10 of my fingers feel like at once. Fortunately, my thumbs hurt the least. And, maybe because I am right-handed, my right hand is the worst. 

Because I can be compassionate sometimes, I will not be posting pictures of this. It's disgusting even for me. 

The nosebleeds are lessening, my tummy issues are gone and my hair is beginning to grow back. 

Not that I would ever want to go through this again but, it's been really nice to not have to shave my legs or my armpits at all this summer! 

Finally, a perk of chemo that I can say is really good. 

I am getting stronger everyday and have even returned to the store to work a few days a week. 

It's been so nice to be back. 

Months ago, as the start of chemo neared, I messaged a bunch of friends asking if they could commit to playdates so our kids' summer wasn't just about mom being sick. 

They delivered! 

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to all our friends who arranged to have the boys over for swim and play dates this summer. One of our friends even went with me to the creek to watch the kids while I slept on a blanket. 

People brought us meals, presents and offered to drive the kids to their activities. Friends dropped cards in the mail to make me laugh of show their support. I am so grateful to each and everyone of you. 

Most of the time, hairloss aside, I didn't look sick. 

Just a bald chick with a really weird sense of humor. Something, thankfully, I was able to retain. 

The steroids made me gain weight so I didn't have that "ematiated cancer patient" look that we all know. 

The chemo I had wasn't as bad as others. It was only near the end that things began to taste weird and didn't want to eat or had absolutely no energy. The steroids actually made me gain weight. 

I'm a little pissed to be honest. I mean come on...If I had to go through this couldn't I have at least lost weight?! 

I am no Wonderwoman but normally, I am a pretty strong person who has an excessive amount of energy. 

As one who never shies from tackling a task, it was horrible to be in a position where I couldn't function. But, with a hubby who travels a lot for work, there were many days that I didn't have a choice but to push through and do what needed to be done. 

Those days I thanked God for my resilience, drive and Domino's delivery. 

Unfortunately, the downside to being a really strong person is that people don't realize how bad it has to be if we have to ask for help. 

When my energy meter ran out these last three months, it wasn't a matter of "a quick power nap" it was, "I'm going to bed and I don't know when I'll be able to get up."

Truly, chemo is no joke. 

If I had to ask for help it was because I had no choice. 

The ladies who work for me are incredible. They handled everything for me. Literally, everything, with the business. I rarely had to ask them for help. Most days I would just look at them and say, "I have to go to bed." They'd smile and say, "Sweet dreams." 

I could rest and recouperate without worry. 

That being said, I owe an excessively massive shout out to Jace! 

The week after my double mastectomy, two of my employees were stuck at home with Covid scares awaiting test results. (They were negative by the way). 

Jace single-handedly took care of all the orders, replied to emails and made the deliveries. It was a rough week and she carried all of us. 

She is the consumate professional who understands that a job needs to get done no matter what. She can buckle down and push out work like no one else I know. 

And she is largely unflappable. Honestly, I wish I had her composure! 

My business partner is amazing. She handled the store...every day for more than three months. 

Once the chemo started we never knew when I was going to need to sleep which made working outside of my house was out of the question. I had friends and employees who helped out but Ashley did the rest...all of it.

Classes, parties, orders, stock, bills, events ALL OF IT! 

I may be high energy but I think she is super human. 

I am blessed. 

Blessed is the word that rings through my brain repeatedly. 

I am blessed by the love of family, friends, employees, business partner and community. 

This whole experience could have been worse, but we have been carried every step of the way.

I was at the coffee shop in town this morning ordering my favorite latte, happy just to be there, when I looked at the chalkboard with their Bible verse on it and wow, did it hit home: 

Yes, thank God! 

A Carpenter's Dream

Warning, There are post surgical pictures in this post. 

Surgery went great. 

Even my pre-op anxiety wasn’t as horrible is it normally can be. Most likely because I talked about it...to everyone! 

The morning was a little insane. We left the house late, hit traffic and arrived at the hospital late. So late, in fact, that registration called to make sure I was on the way 🤦‍♀️ 

After they took me into the pre-op room, I got changed, threw out my bra and they took my vitals. The doctor came in to see me, review what was going to be done and answer questions. Then I waited for about an hour to go to nuclear medicine to get injections in the cancer boob so they knew where the sentinel nodes were. 

The trip from pre-op to nuke med was interesting. Nuke med is in the old building of the hospital and pre-op is in the new wing. I was literally wheeled down main hallways. Never one to miss an opportunity, I was waving at people like I was in a parade. 

I’d be lying if I said the injections didn’t hurt like hell. My doctor said they shouldn’t be bad, other cancer patients said to prepare for the pain. Glad I was prepared! 

By now I was winding up and could feel it so when the “Happy Juice Guy” aka anesthesiologist came in I asked for something. They gave me a little Ativan to help me relax. It worked. 

Next thing I knew I was I’m my room waking up. I got to see Glenn before he went home to be with the boys. 

In addition to the nuke med that lit up my nodes, my breasts were injected with a blue dye so they knew where all the tissue was that needed to be removed. We were told that the dye would make my pee blue and they were not kidding!! 

I am the consumate boy mom who appreciates a good "Wooooow!" moment. After I peed the first time that night I had the nurse give me my phone so I could take a picture of it. Seriously, it was way darker than I anticipated. I sent the picture to Glenn and the boys and we all had a great laugh. 

The rest of the night was uneventful, I got some good sleep and my doctor even had to wake me up the next morning when she came in to check me out. 

A hematoma had developed on the right side so she had to press on the skin to move the fluid to the drain tube. Fun fact: when they cut off the boobs they take the nerves so, although she had to push on my chest, I could only feel pressure not pain! 

I was discharged that afternoon and headed home to relax. 

On the way out I was being wheeled past the nurses station and one of them said, "You need to wave on he way out, you waved on the way in." 

I can totally see myself doing that...So I waved good-bye. 

Since I opted to not have reconstruction I do not have expanders in my chest. Pain is minimal and controlled with just Acetaminophen (Tylenol). 

The drains...Ugh! 

I know these things are necessary but man are they a pain in the ass! 

The tubes come out just below where the bottom of my breast was and the tube wraps up into the skin area in a big circle. The part of the drain that is under the skin is perforated to allow the fluids to drain into the bulb (referred to a grenade at the nurses station :) and the tube is so much longer than I thought it would be! 

There is a plug at the top of the bulb that I open to empty out the fluid into a measuring cup so I can record the amounts and then the bulb gets squeezed before the plug is put back in. Doing this creates a suction that draws the fluid out of my body. 

As heal I form clots that are a total pain to remove from the lines. Sometimes they move themselves sometimes they don't. 

The compression bra they gave me was too tight. The band around the bottom had to be cut so that it wouldn't dig into my skin and some jackass decided that since it's a bra it had to have lace around the edges.

Seriously...Lace? WTF?!  On a good day lace can cause chaffing. Why the hell would someone put it on a post-surgical garment?! No doubt someone that has never had this particular surgery and didn't have to be in the thing 24/7. 

The other added benefit of the lace is that it gets stuck in the velcro. Because, you know, when you have tubes hanging out of your body AND limited arm motion you want to have to detangle the lace from the velcro at the top of the already uncomfortable bra! 

Anyway...

This is how the drain looks under my skin on the left side of my chest. 

There is some bruising (remember no nerves, no pain), which is to be expected but the incisions are amazing! I am so happy with the way everything looks. As the fluid decreases things are flattening out. 

One friend even told me I'm his "favorite 2x4"...

Flat as a board! 

OMGness! I am so glad I wasn't drinking when I got that text or I would have spewed magic bean water out of my nose. 

Mom told my that makes me a Carpenter's Dream! LOL

I wish I could say that the worst is over but unfortunately that is not the truth. Sadly, having my boobs cut off was the easy part. 

Chemo looms on the horizon. 

I will most likely feel sick and lose my hair. They will give me anti-nausea meds to help with the tummy issues but, I gotta tell you, the thought of a summer without the need to shave is a bit exciting. 'Cause you know that you don't just lose the hair on the head...

Yeah...NO BIKINI RAZOR RASH!!! 

Talk about a silver lining!

If I look hard enough there is always something good. 

What's been the best part of this so far? 

Love.

So many people have sent encouraging messages, prayers, gifts, flowers and have jumped in to help us out. We don't have to worry about food for weeks, the kids transportation is arranged and nurse friends have come over to check out my incisions and drain tube areas to make sure that everything is ok and there are no infections. 

As a result of all the prayers, love and support we've received I've been able to heal at a very rapid rate. 

We are blessed. 

Sucky Day

Today was an emotional roller coaster day and for no reason other than it just sucked. 

One minute I was ready to cry, the next I was ready to slap someone and then I'd be laughing about something. 

For. No. Reason! 

Well other than my whole world is going to change in six days. Yeah, that might have something to do with it. 

As if the roller coaster wasn't bad enough I was instructed by someone who meant well but told me to, "take a deep breath and count to 10." Really?! 

W. T. F?!?! 

This is not a patience thing. This is a massive body altering operation followed by chemo, which we all know sucks. I don't need patience I needed someone to say, "I'm so sorry. Days like this really do suck." 

Take a breath?! 

So I completely came unglued on the person. 

I then called them back to apologize and explain that in the future if you catch me in a mood like that giving me advice about calming down is the WORST thing a person could do. What I need in that moment is to be validated. 

As God is my witness, she replied with, "Well I do validate your feelings...but you do need to step back and take a breath." 

I hung up. 

I don't need advice. I didn't call for advice. I don't want advice. 

I needed a sounding board. I needed understanding. I needed someone who would take my mind off this mess and make me laugh. Change the subject. Talk about something stupid. Something menial whatever...just don't lecture. 

Yes, I am strong. Yes, I'm a fighter. Yes, I will get through this. 

Doesn't mean that I'm happy about it or that it will be a walk in the park. I do my best to stay in the here and now but sometimes what's coming pokes his head into my life to remind me that dark days are coming. 

Imagine being at the beach with a beautiful blue sky listening to the waves crash on the shore and a rain cloud suddenly comes over you and only you. Then it goes away, and comes back repeatedly. That was how I felt today. 

No amount of breathing made me feel better. And, well, I had to do it all day to stay alive. 

Having other cancer patients/survivors tell me they know how I feel made me feel better. 

Having people make me laugh makes the biggest impact! 

A friend messaged me today to see how I was and I replied, "It's an angry day. Some days are happy but today I just want to slap someone."

Later on when I left the shop to pick up the boys from school I got in my car, put the key in the ignition to start the car and found this on my windshield. 

Oh how I love my friends. 

Keep me laughing gang. 

Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around!

I did it!!

I ran my first 5K!

I finished with a time of 38:47 and sixth overall in my division...the 50-59 females!

Ugh! I still can't believe that I am 50 years old.

Not really sure how I got here or how I survived passed my early 20's.

I was so stupid, headstrong, and willful. I knew everything and you couldn't tell me a thing.

In short, I  was pretty much a jerk.

Then I stopped drinking became well, a sober, stupid, headstrong, willful, know-it-all!

It's taken many years of trials and tribulations and failures to get to where I am today.

I am smarter but still headstrong although much less stubborn and I know that I don't know much but I can learn anything as long as I am willing to admit what I don't know.

Most importantly, I am a mom.

I am a mom of twin four-year-old boys who are learning to be independent, but can be headstrong, defiant and willful.

Just like...well, me.

Yup!

In fact, the twins turned four today.

The boys' T-Rex birthday cake

Where did four years go?

I find myself asking that question each year as time flies by in what appears to be a blur.

Another mom reminded me of a great expression yesterday, "The days are long but the years are short."

How true it is.

Yesterday wasn't just long, it was hellaciously long.

The kids were whiny and cranky all day. I'm reasonably sure it was the stupid time change from daylight savings.

David was the worst. We endured a 20 minute fit over my putting his sippy cup in the diaper bag,  something I've been doing for four years (I use it for sippy cups and food now). Evidently, he wanted to carry it. So I took it out of said bag and put it on the counter so that he could carry it and the tantrum got worse because he wanted to take it out of the bag, something he's never done.

It was hell.

No amount of distraction tactics would work to calm him or divert his attention to something else. He was just determined to scream.

I managed to get him in the car but then actually had to turn around and go back to the house and sit in the driveway with the threat of shutting off the car and going inside to get him to stop.

I was fully prepared to do this but I didn't really want to.

They are learning that mommy doesn't make empty threats. But that doesn't stop them from pushing the limits!

I follow through. It's tough and really, really difficult at times, but I feel it's important for teaching them where the boundaries are, how to follow instructions and to play by the rules!

It doesn't mean that they are not headstrong or defiant at times, yesterday being one of them, but they are learning when to push and when not to.

Sometimes my refusals are based on my fears not their abilities. It's tough to remember that when I'm frustrated.

The boys making silly faces

I'm hoping that their headstrong, defiant behaviors will make them successful and unwilling to quit when life gets rough.

They try so hard to be independent but still need me to zip their jackets, tie their shoes and wipe their butts.

Independence will come but it will take time.

They are only four and I am not in a rush for them to grow up.

Although having them wipe their own butts would be nice.

I love being a mom. The boys complete me in ways I never knew I was deficient. I had to become a mom to truly understand my shortcomings and know love.

Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around!

I did it!!

I ran my first 5K!

I finished with a time of 38:47 and sixth overall in my division...the 50-59 females!

Ugh! I still can't believe that I am 50 years old.

Not really sure how I got here or how I survived passed my early 20's.

I was so stupid, headstrong, and willful. I knew everything and you couldn't tell me a thing.

In short, I  was pretty much a jerk.

Then I stopped drinking became well, a sober, stupid, headstrong, willful, know-it-all!

It's taken many years of trials and tribulations and failures to get to where I am today.

I am smarter but still headstrong although much less stubborn and I know that I don't know much but I can learn anything as long as I am willing to admit what I don't know.

Most importantly, I am a mom.

I am a mom of twin four-year-old boys who are learning to be independent, but can be headstrong, defiant and willful.

Just like...well, me.

Yup!

In fact, the twins turned four today.

The boys' T-Rex birthday cake

Where did four years go?

I find myself asking that question each year as time flies by in what appears to be a blur.

Another mom reminded me of a great expression yesterday, "The days are long but the years are short."

How true it is.

Yesterday wasn't just long, it was hellaciously long.

The kids were whiny and cranky all day. I'm reasonably sure it was the stupid time change from daylight savings.

David was the worst. We endured a 20 minute fit over my putting his sippy cup in the diaper bag,  something I've been doing for four years (I use it for sippy cups and food now). Evidently, he wanted to carry it. So I took it out of said bag and put it on the counter so that he could carry it and the tantrum got worse because he wanted to take it out of the bag, something he's never done.

It was hell.

No amount of distraction tactics would work to calm him or divert his attention to something else. He was just determined to scream.

I managed to get him in the car but then actually had to turn around and go back to the house and sit in the driveway with the threat of shutting off the car and going inside to get him to stop.

I was fully prepared to do this but I didn't really want to.

They are learning that mommy doesn't make empty threats. But that doesn't stop them from pushing the limits!

I follow through. It's tough and really, really difficult at times, but I feel it's important for teaching them where the boundaries are, how to follow instructions and to play by the rules!

It doesn't mean that they are not headstrong or defiant at times, yesterday being one of them, but they are learning when to push and when not to.

Sometimes my refusals are based on my fears not their abilities. It's tough to remember that when I'm frustrated.

The boys making silly faces

I'm hoping that their headstrong, defiant behaviors will make them successful and unwilling to quit when life gets rough.

They try so hard to be independent but still need me to zip their jackets, tie their shoes and wipe their butts.

Independence will come but it will take time.

They are only four and I am not in a rush for them to grow up.

Although having them wipe their own butts would be nice.

I love being a mom. The boys complete me in ways I never knew I was deficient. I had to become a mom to truly understand my shortcomings and know love.

Saying Goodbye

I cannot believe that we are almost in July! Between work, the children's programs of Karate and Tumbling and endless loads of laundry, this year is flying by. 

Not all of it has been the chaos that we encounter on a daily basis. 

There has been deep, cutting sadness that I am still attempting to deal with. 

The day after Easter I received a text message from a friend on mine asking if I had seen Facebook. I hadn't as I had been attempting to snooze on the sofa trying to recover from hosting a huge gathering for the Holiday. 

After receiving the text I jumped up and ran to my computer to see what was going on and was horrified to read that our friend had passed away at the age of 31. 

Tears sprang from my eyes and cascaded down my cheeks. 

How? How does this happen? 

I sat and prayed for understanding and acceptance but the pain was deep. 

Knowing that I would never talk to Jessie again nearly crippled me. 

Weeks passed and I found myself unable to move on. Not that I thought I should just be able to accept this, toss it aside and go on with my life but that there was an emptiness or hole that I couldn't seem to fill. 

I reached out on the very page that delivered the bad news and asked if there was a way to hold a service for her in Virginia. The pastor of the church that she had attended contacted me and her father and together we picked a date and got to work. 

Phone calls, emails and writing gave my life purpose and direction. I was no longer struggling through a quagmire of numbness that seemed to anchor my feet to the floor. 

I still miss her. I always will but that day I was able to release some of my sadness and say goodbye. 

I wanted to share my eulogy with you to have you know her the way I did.  

I met Jessie in the spring of 2008 at the NRA Annual meeting in Louisville, Kentucky. This sweet, shy, quiet (little did I know) young lady had my heart from the beginning. Always ready with a smile and a funny story she could turn almost any situation into one filled with laughter.

After we began working together I quickly learned that Jessie was neither shy nor quiet and, aside from saying things like Sir, Ma’am, y’all and “Bless her heart” she blew just about every stereotype of a southern girl out of the water. Being from NH I had mistakenly believed that all southern girls were born knowing how to two-step and spent their Saturday nights in bars listening to country music and learning to line dance. 

That was not the case with Jessie…At all. She was a free spirit who was moved by the things that she loved which could include anything from competitive shooting to knitting and if she could combine the two while listening to Ludacris she would! 

Jessie had a wicked sense of humor that ranged from silly to completely sarcastic and had the ability to make me laugh to the point that I’d have tears streaming down my face and my stomach muscles would hurt for days. She was a fierce competitor who gave it her all whether she was competing with a rifle or in the annual Spoons Tournament at the NRA. 

Jess was just amazing! She truly never met a stranger. Her love of others transcended age, race, religion, marital status and politics. She never let her personal opinions get in the way of being a friend. No matter what, she saw the good in people and there was no gap too wide to bridge. 

She had a deep and abiding love of Christ. Jessie was a living example of unconditional love and was always available to help others regardless of their need. Her devotion helped lead me back to church. She never said, “You should go.” Or “you’re going to rot in hell.” She simply lived her life in a way that made me want to emulate her love of others, as Christ loves us. 

So what is this love? Merriam-Webster defines love as: 

·     a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person


·     attraction that includes sexual desire : the strong affection felt by people who have a romantic relationship
 a person you love in a romantic way 

How’s that for not even coming close?! 

When thinking about Jess, the impact she had on me and on those around her the one passage that keeps coming to mind was First Corinthians, Chapter 13: 4-8 The gift of love. 4 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never ends. 

My father’s side of the family is Quaker. In a Quaker funeral everyone sits in silent prayer and then, if they feel moved to do so, can stand and talk about the deceased. At my grandmother’s funeral back in the 90s some people read bible verses and others shared stories. 

As the service neared the end a gentleman, that no one recognized stood up, introduced himself and said that he’d been having breakfast with my grandmother every Sunday after church for the past three years. He went on to say that he was sorry that he’d only known my grandmother for three years but after listening to everyone that day he felt blessed to have known her for three years. 

This is how I feel about my friendship with Jessie. I’d only known Jessie for 8 years but am blessed to have known her for that long. I am very proud to call her friend but I do not believe that our friendship happened by chance. CS Lewis summed up friendship the best in The Four Loves:  “In friendship...we think we have chosen our peers. In reality a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another...the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends, "Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.” 

Jessie’s beauty was Love. 

To know Jessie was simply to know love.  

Synergy

I've recently lost my mother.

TO LOVE!!!!

I know that there are many adult children of widowed parents who would not share my enthusiasm but I am so excited!

Back in November my mom had begun to date a man named David. David and my dad were high school classmates and my parents and David and his wife used to hang out together at the high school reunions. David was widowed a few years ago and out of the blue he called my mom this past fall.

He joined us for Thanksgiving and although my mom enjoyed his company she kept telling me that there was "no chemistry."

Chemistry...Really?!

I pointed out that at her age, chemistry was probably less important than companionship and if she enjoyed spending time with him then she should.

The first change in her came just after the five year anniversary of losing my dad. It was almost as if someone had flipped a switch and she had regained some of her internal spark.

It was like she'd decided somewhere along the way that five years was enough and it was time to move on.

The second change came on new year's eve. She and David met us in Kennett Square for the annual Mushroom raising on New Year's Eve. (They do a "count up" and raise the lighted mushroom at 8pm so that people with little kids can see it and then take their kids home and put them to bed.) Then they do a countdown and drop the mushroom at midnight like they do with the ball in Times Square.

After that night mom was completely transformed!

Evidently David is a one hell of a kisser who floored my mother and totally knocked her socks off!

She is no longer on the verge of tears all the time or wondering why she is still here when her husband is gone.

She has become a giddy teenager in love.

And in love she is.

He is a wonderful man who doesn't yell (big difference if you knew my dad), doesn't swear (bigger difference if you knew my dad), and is always calm and even keeled.

He is not even (gasp) a sailor!

The cool thing is that he is so different that there is nothing to compare.

She is Chuck's widow and he is Sarah's widower.

Their worlds were, for all intents and purposes, completely different.

The two different worlds collided.

That collision produced a relationships with a synergy that few get to experience.

They are in that early stage of being in love where everything is fun and life is new and shiny again.

Mom and David are now looking at the future together with hope and love in their hearts.

My mom has regained her feistiness and the light, that I thought had been extinguished forever, has returned to her eyes.

David did that and, for that alone, I will forever be grateful to him.

Mistakes Are Not Failures

I now have a job demonstrating Dyson vacuum cleaners on the weekends working both Saturday and Sunday from 10am to 6pm. Hubby and I made the decision to do this so that I could earn extra income and he could watch the kids and we wouldn't have to pay out anything for childcare. 

I know that right now you are envisioning the door to door vacuum cleaner salesman who pesters the "decision maker" of the home into buying a vacuum...Well you'd be wrong.

I'm paid hourly to stand in either Bed Bath & Beyond or Costco and demonstrate how a Dyson works, I do not make commission.

I've been a Dyson user for years and love their products. They are not gimmicks and really do suck...in a good way :)

Some things you might want to consider when buying one of our products: It really is covered under warranty for five years. If something breaks and you wait 7 years before calling customer service, it will not be covered and it won't be our fault. It's not meant to vacuum up water. There is no need to get insane about cleaning the inside of the canister and/or washing it out with water. Technically, it is the inside of a vacuum cleaner and no one really gives a rats ass if it's dirty. If you have that much time on your hands, you might want to consider volunteering with a non-profit, I'm sure they'd love your enthusiasm. 

I do not know where the mattresses, refrigerators or foot massagers are located. One would think that that the black shirt with the word "Dyson" printed on it would alert people to the fact that I am not an employee of the store but you'd be wrong. The shirt is my uniform, the people at Costco wear red vests and in Bed Bath & Beyond the employees wear name tags that say Bed Bath & Beyond.

If you don't bother to notice that my shirt says Dyson and ask me where to find a toilet brush, please don't be offended when I can't tell you.

Oh and please save the "suck" jokes...I've heard them all...

I am actually enjoying this experience. I have a marketing job that I do from the house. A cake business that I run from the house and a business that I am starting with my sisters-in-law so it's not like I'm not busy. The bulk of what I do, I do from home and love it. However, I love being out working with the public too. Most of the time it's lots of fun but once in a while I meet someone who is obviously hell-bent on being miserable and trying to take everyone down with them.

I'll never understand this type of person.

I'm a generally happy person. I love to laugh and I love to make others laugh. I even tried my hand at stand-up and did pretty well. I really have experienced the rush of "the roar of the crowd" and loved it! Why anyone wouldn't want that feeling I can't imagine but some people just aren't happy unless they have something to complain about!

Last week we had our bi-weekly moms' group get together. Normally we have a speaker and then break out into groups to talk about specific topics and other times we have craft workshops where we learn things like knitting or review a book. It's two hours of free babysitting with a hot breakfast with other moms...an experience worth it's weight in gold...but I digress...Last week we didn't have a speaker or groups so we just got to sit and talk. We were sharing funny child stories and one of the moms was telling us about her son - "a numbers guy" at the age of six - who loves to watch the numbers change on their digital scale. He has asked her to get on so he could watch the numbers on the scale and when it finally stopped he exclaimed, "Whoa mom! Look at all the points you got!" In his mind higher was better!

Winning! 

We talked about changing our perceptions of our weight and seeing it for what it was...a number. Granted, you don't want to make a point on getting a "higher score" every time you step on the scale - if you even own one - rather being should be ok with the number that you get. We are not all built the same, we'll never be Victoria Secret models but we are who we are, our spouses love us for who we are, that's why he chose us. We need to be ok with the "score" and find ways to be living examples to our children of happy accepting people who are comfortable in our own skin.

I have fought with my weight my entire life. Between mean girls in high school and magazines that showed emaciated girls as "normal" I've always had a warped perception of my own body. It wasn't until I had kids that I realized my "shell" doesn't matter as much as my heart.

I have done many, many things in my life. I have been married before...a couple of times, I've been a step-mother, manager, clerk, mechanic etc., but the greatest, most difficult, yet most rewarding thing, is being a mommy.

At the time, each job seemed like the most important thing I could possibly ever do and I did it with as much enthusiasm as I could. If you know me, you know I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I do nothing half-way...it just wastes time.

As important as those things were at the time they pale by comparison to my life these days. I'm not talking about kissing boo-boos or changing diapers. Yes, those things come with the territory but the unconditional, deep-rooted love that I have for the two tiny little men who call me momma.
The smiles and the giggles that I get when I play peek-a-boo or the hugs and kisses I get when I get home from my part-time job on the weekends or the warm snuggly feeling that I get when I rock them to sleep at night all contribute to the most amazing love I have ever felt for another human being.

I don't try to be perfect. I don't want to be perfect. I've learned way too much in my life from my trials and tribulations. I don't want my kids to be afraid of making mistakes. Mistakes are not failures unless you fail to learn something from them.

James Dyson doesn't look at things as failures, he looks at them as learning opportunities. I want my kids to grow up with the same attitude and drive to find solutions. If I'm constantly trying to be perfect I am never showing them how to improve only how they'll never measure up.

I enjoy watching the kids discover something new and watching what they do with it. Just the other night they dug two new swim diapers out of the closet and had us put them on their heads. Yup! Hats! We've put those hats on them every day since. They love to run around in them and they are, of course, adorable!

I want their minds and their hearts to be open. I want them to be accepting of themselves as well as others and I want them to be happy.

We all dream that our kids will become doctors or lawyers or the next Pulitzer Prize winner but the fact is that I want my kids to be happy and know that they are loved more than they can possibly imagine, until they day their own kids are born...then they'll get it.

Maybe they'll find a cure for cancer or maybe they'll be in a Costco, politely saying, "No sir, I don't know where they keep the pickles, I work for Dyson."  As long as they are happy, my life will never suck.

Weekend Away

I will be starting a part-time job this coming weekend and had to spend last weekend in a training class in Chicago.

I left my house at noon on Friday and didn't get home until about 2am Sunday night/Monday morning.

Way, way, way too many hours without seeing my babies. Hubby was good about sending pictures but pictures are not the same as holding them.

I was ok until I got a panicked call from hubby because the Engineer had spiked a fever of 102 and he had no idea what to do. Although I purchase generic over the counter drugs I use brand names when talking about them. Advil is much easier to say than ibuprofen and ditto for Tylenol over acetaminophen.

Hubby was stressed which stressed me out and I began to panic. I don't panic often but this was utterly out of my control and I was freaked. In giving him directions I resorted to the easier to say brand names and he replied that there was not Tylenol.

O. M. G. Seriously!

I'm pretty sure that he's the only person in the world that doesn't know that acetaminophen is the generic of Tylenol. I tried to do my best to not yell into the phone.

I failed.

After a few minutes (he had to write down the directions) we switched from phone to FaceTime and when the Stuntman realized that mommy wasn't going to be coming out of the phone he began to cry which touched a cord in me had me choking back tears. It was awful. After saying goodbye and hanging up I sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. Every tear that I had fought back since noon that day cascaded down my cheeks.

I pulled myself together, remake-upped my face and went downstairs to grab some dinner and prepare for the weekend training. Despite my having a good time, my hubby and my boys were on my mind the entire time. Frequently throughout the weekend I would pull up pictures of the boys just so I could see them.

We never did the FaceTime thing again. It was just too much for the boys (translation: I couldn't handle it!). As it was if hubby put me on speaker the Stuntman would cry when I'd say goodbye. It really sucked being out of town. 

But, I survived the weekend.

Hubby had to get up and go to work Monday morning so he was in bed when I arrived home at 2 a.m. As I headed upstairs I noticed that he'd left the outside light on and when I went to the backdoor to turn it off I discovered that hubby had made a heart in the snow in the backyard.

He'd purposely left the light on so I would see it.

He's such a sweet guy!

I made my way up the stairs, peeked in on the boys, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed next to the love of my life.

His Legacy

Three years ago this morning I sat with my hand on my father's shoulder as he took his last raspy breath of life. My mother said it was fitting that I was the last one with him as he was the first one to touch me when I came into this word.

My dad was my buddy and not a day goes by that I don't miss him.

We talked about everything and he was the first person that I would call for anything but especially when had a new joke. Sometimes I would tell him the same ones just because his memory for jokes really sucked! He would laugh the same each time.

I miss his laugh.

He had a great sense of humor and was as quick with a laugh as he was with his temper.

Man, did dad have a temper.

He mellowed in his older years but he was fierce when we were younger.

He could yell louder than any other human on the face of the earth and could get whatever attention was needed, when it was needed. Sometimes you didn't want the attention but when you pissed him off you knew it and sometimes, unfortunately, the entire neighborhood knew it too!

We were raised during the "corporal punishment is ok years." Although we are not an enormously religious family "spare the rod, spoil the child" was certainly a philosophy that was practiced in our house. Dad used to use his fraternity paddle to spank us.

As if being hit with a piece of wood wasn't bad enough, the guilty party would be dispatched to retrieve the "the paddle," an act, I always felt, was akin to sharpening the blade on the guillotine before your own execution!

One morning my brother and I were rough-housing and we broke something - I don't remember exactly what it was - but I was sent to get "the paddle." I crocodile-teared all the way up the stairs into my room where I pulled on every pair of underpants and shorts I owned under my nightgown before proceeding to my dad's closet the get "the paddle" and return downstairs.

When dad hit me it sounded (and felt) like he hit a pillow!

I could cry at the drop of a hat - a skill I developed solely to get my brother in trouble - so I let the tears flow freely while desperately trying not to smile because it didn't hurt AT ALL!!!

I really thought I was "one up" and that the old man was a dunce.

I was 19 before he told me that he knew what I had done but didn't want to say anything! He told me that I was the only one of us three kids that had the guts to even try to get away with such a thing and he wasn't going to take that away from me!

He was a strict disciplinarian but he was also a dedicated husband and father who did whatever it took to provide for his family and be involved in our lives. He was a soccer coach, hockey coach and timer at the swim meets. He knew nothing of soccer and hockey but read every book he could find on the topic to be a good coach - he was that dedicated.

He was at every game we played and every meet we competed in and he had a whistle you could hear over the rest of the crowd and through a bathing cap in the water.

Looking back at my childhood I remember him always being there; didn't matter if it was a school concert or a swim meet my parents were always there.

One of my favorite memories of my elementary years is the Annual Girl Scout Father Daughter Square Dance. I looked forward to that event every year. Dad was my date! We'd get all dressed up and spend the night following the calls to "do-si-do" and "swing your partner." It was heaven! Being on his arm made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world!

Oh to have that feeling today.

In the past three years, I have had moments where memories come flooding back to me. There are so many things that we did with my dad. When we were very young, summers revolved around swimming lessons at the lake and vacations in Maryland at my grandparent's farm. As we got older, we sailed.

Dad was a sailor at heart.

He loved to be on the water and loved sailing but what he loved the most, was racing. So much so that he founded the Sailing Team at his alma mater Colgate University.

When he wasn't sailing he was fixing. He had an amazing skill with wood and there was always a boat in some stage of repair in our garage.

At some point fixing turned into building.

I don't remember the details but, somehow a guy in Michigan got a hold of my dad, sent him some blueprints for a boat he had designed and next thing I know dad was building the thing.

Now this would be an amazing feat for just about anyone, never mind the guy who had a full-time job, three young kids with crazy sports schedules and a wife at home.

He built a 24' wood and epoxy boat in the garage from blueprints!

I remember watching him pace out the garage to see if it would fit and watched him literally jump with excitement when he realized that it would.

In order to build this thing, it had to be constructed upside down. Once the hull was ready it had to be flipped over so he could build the deck. I can still see the scene in my mind today of all of the mattresses in the driveway and a huge number of people helping to roll this thing over. There might have been a keg involved but I'm not sure.

Our friends and neighbors must have thought we were insane.

In the middle of construction dad was transferred from north Jersey to south Jersey. In addition to moving us and the contents of the house, we had to move the boat! Next thing I know dad was modifying a trailer to tow this thing south.

I know that for a while he rented space in some sort of business complex but eventually moved the boat to my grandmother's carriage house. Once it was finished he launched the boat in Island Heights, NJ and christened it GARDYLOO.

The '80s were spent on the water in Island Heights, New Jersey. Some of my greatest memories are from those summers. He wasn't just my dad, he took on a fatherly role with everyone younger than he was. He didn't do this consciously, it was his nature. He was wise if you were willing to listen - I was a teenager in the '80s so I often argued more than I listened - but he was always willing to offer some tidbit of wisdom.

A few weeks before he passed away he told me that one thing he would really like to do was to go sailing again. I knew that I had to find a way to make this wish come true.

I called a friend and found out that his brother's boat was still in the water and that they'd be more than happy to make this happen. Before I knew it we had assembled the old crew from Island Heights, including one of the guys that was now a surgeon living in Florida, and headed for a sail.

Unfortunately a key crew member was unable to make it: my brother was stuck at a conference in California and couldn't get back. We arranged for my dad to talk to him on the phone while we were sailing. It certainly wasn't the same but at least they got to talk. We also had two additions to the crew that day. My husband, my dad introduced the two of us, and his oldest grandson who my dad had also taught to sail and was dad's right arm at the Sailing School.

The fact that we were able to assemble everyone on such short notice was nothing shy of a miracle but the day itself was truly touched by God.

It was mid November in Maryland and it was nearly 70 degrees. The sun was shining and there was a light wind blowing. An hour north in Philadelphia that same day and same time, there was sleet and snow!

It took some maneuvering but we finally managed to get dad loaded onto the boat and headed out from the dock. When it was time to set the sails each of the crew members jumped to action as if no time at all had passed since we last crewed together despite the fact that it had been more than 20 years!

It was magical.

Dad was settled in the cockpit and we took turns sitting next to him to keep him from falling over each time we were on starboard tack. We also took turns imitating him and spouting his Chuck-isms. He no longer had the strength or desire to yell at us but he certainly got a kick out of our impersonations.

We sailed for a little more than an hour before dad said that he was tired.

It was time to turn around.

The return trip might have been sunny, but my mood was beginning to cloud over. I stayed by my dad's side as much as possible as I knew that this would be the last time I would sail with him and I didn't want it to end.

In the years since my dad has passed I do not look at, or think about, a sailboat without missing him.

All I have to do is be near the water with wind in my hair and my dad comes to life.

He loved sailing so much that when he retired he joined a yacht club and started the Rock Hall Yacht Club Sailing School that thrives today. Two of his grandchildren as well as a few of the kids from his inaugural class have become sailing instructors.

His legacy lives on. The children who were once students, will one day teach our boys.

We just celebrated the twins' first birthday. I have thought of my dad countless times this past year and am saddened by the fact that they will never know him. They will however, learn to sail and when the wind blows through their hair and the sun kisses their cheeks, they will feel his touch and know his love.