Here on the frontier, There are falling leaves, Although my neighbors are all barbarions…And you? You are a thousand miles away. There are always two cups on my table.

Posts tagged ‘love’

I Need You Mom. No I Don’t. Yes I do.

Rose. Age 21. Daughter number 3, sixth child.

Fell off a moped during the final afternoon of labor day  beach vacation.

Broke both right forearm bones.

Road Rash” up and down her legs.

Drove her back to Baltimore to Union Memorial Hospital and the best upper extremity surgeons on the East Coast.

Now she has some hardware in her arm. A plate, pins and screws pulling the broken pieces all together. It’s been a long couple of weeks.

Before her surgery, she cried. I spoke softly to her and said the prayers from her childhood to comfort her.

After her surgery I slept by her. Gave her the pain medications, help her with all her needs, took her to the doctor and made repeated calls to him when she had questions.

I wiped her tears as she saw the track surgical scar run down her arm and the new shape of the back of her hand.

I handled the insurance company, her school medical leave letters and hooked her up with a decent physical therapist.

Now it’s 3 weeks post-op and the girl is back to normal.

Offended if I ask her if she wants me to cut a tag off the back of her shirt.

The cuddle-muffin who lay in my bed night after night is angry that I appeared at her PT appointment.

Miss Independent is back and I am left wondering if that momentary bond we shared when she was in pain and scared ever really happened.

Montessori Daycare For Hoo

 

Hoo started to attend a Montessori daycare program.

Can you say “Baby Yoga”?

It’s a step up from his earlier daycare to be sure.

Great facility, well run with trained staff.

Could we ask for more? Uh uh.

His late afternoon caregiver is a very serious Russian woman who takes her responsibilities very seriously.

Each day I get a “poop-report”.

How Hoo napped, what and with whom he played with and his general disposition.

Today when I picked him up she gravely intoned in her deep Russian accented voice,

“Hoo deed not eet hees lunch. Hoo only eht hees rahzohns.”

She somberly shook her head.

He only ate his raisins?

(Yikes!)

I’m not quite sure what to do with this information,

but it sounds like Hoo is off to the gulag if he doesn’t get his noon chow down.

 

Husband And Wife

Husband took gmom away for an escape to a seaside hotel ala waterfront view. Good food, nice amenities and a jacuzzi.

A lot to be said for stepping out of the fray of home life however brief. It was 48 hours of him and me. Hmmm.

We are a couple that are family centric. Putting out fires continuously with our kids and business. Keeping the American dream in site but damn if it’s always out of reach.

But for 2 days, we slept late, and turned off the phones, did just what we felt felt like.

Watched the water.

The sun setting on the bay.

I found my balance reflected in his eyes and he didn’t flinch or turn away.

My heart beat slow again when I felt his warmth surround me in the night.

This is gmom.

Renewed and a happy camper.

Peace out kids.

Good Gifts (and bad) For Wives : Husbands You Can Take Notes On This

Everyone likes to get a good gift. A gift that demonstrates that the giver really thought about what the the receiver would like.

Women are typically good gift givers. Men not so much.

So I’m doing you guys a favor and spelling it out for you.

Newsflash!  Flowers are not a gift. They are a thoughtful gesture or an accompaniment to a heartfelt apology.

Roses go really well with, for instance,… “I borrowed your car,

left the tank on empty and didn’t tell you.

I am fully accountable for you being late for your meeting.”

Newsflash!  Unless the girl is a teenager don’t give candy. Almost all women are watching their figures and don’t appreciate the sabotage.

It’s a classic blunder.

If we want chocolate we’ll buy it for ourselves.

Good Gifts:

1. Diamond stud earrings. Guys don’t try and get creative with all the pretty colored stone  jewelry out there.

The classic diamond stud can be had pretty inexpensively. Just one word of warning don’t buy the size for infants unless your wife is a dwarf, then it might be okay, I’ll check.

2. Gift Certificate to a spa. Most women will really appreciate your thoughtfulness. Showing your love by giving her some pampering is going to win you big brownie points.  Most guys think their gal wants to spend her special day with him.  I don’t know why guys think this.

3. Gift Certificate to her favorite shoe or clothing store. Don’t risk buying what you “think” she would like and worse yet, guess her “size”. That’s a night on the couch for sure. And don’t buy sexy lingerie guys, it’s so self-serving.

4. Short on time or inspiration? Buy a Kindle and a beautiful card with a return gift receipt. She will love it. Unless she is blind and only reads braille. Then you screwed up.

Bad Gifts. Very very bad.

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1. Membership to a gym. (Can you spell divorce court?)

2.Gift Card to Home Depot.

3. An Appliance.  Unless it’s something she specifiacally asked for, found the one she wanted and taped a reminder to your shaving mirror.

4.A home cooked dinner. No explanation needed right?

5. A mop. Thanks to Silverado for this one. Inspired.

Guys I just want to say, your welcome.

I know you needed this information.

Gmom is here to help. I’m just like that. I’m a helper person.

Now, what was the best and worst gift that you have received?

This is gmom the helper person,

peace out.

We Are Family Like That

When my brother’s fatal prognosis was told to our family. We were grouped together surrounding his wife. Hands all around her. On shoulders. On knees. Supporting and holding.

We are family like that. We hold each other up.

We listened intently to everything the doctor was saying not noticing my mother walking away. My elder sister noticed first.

Where is Mom?

We went to the hospital hallway and saw my mother running down the hospital hallway.  For myself, I had a moment of wanting to let her go. She had the right idea. Run Mom Run. But there was no where to run to. We went after her. Like the Keystone cops. We caught her, crying and struggling, out of control. We surrounded her. Someone brought a chair.

It’s okay mom, it’s okay,it’s going to be okay…

We put hands all around her. Held her. Supported her.  All of us, Including my sister in law.

We are family like that.

Now I understand why she ran.

But there really is no running from life.

These 5 revitalizing days alone at the beach have reminded me, that I am not alone in my struggles.  I have hands all around me. Holding me. Supporting me.

We are family like that.

T’ank You, T’ank You.

(On the anniversary of my brother’s passing I am grateful for the small miracles of today. Hey Jeff, miss you bud, you would have loved this story, you would have loved Hoo)

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Baby boy Hoo was mad rushed into the house by his momma Eggs on Friday. “Mom! The daycare called me, he is burning up with fever!!!” My daughter was panicked, struggling to hold a hysterical Hoo.

Undress him, let’s check his temperature.

I watched the mercury rise in the thermometer tube as Eggs pinned Hoo across her lap.

103….103.6……104….104.2……105….

Okay let’s get him into the bath, get the tylenol and call his doctor.

I poured cool water over his shaking body. It was controlled chaos.

We wrapped him in a sheet and rushed him to the pediatrician who saw him immediately.

Hoo sat on Eggs lap as the doctor examined him. He cried continuously.

The doctor did a strep test with the looong q-tips swirled down his throat.

Poor Hoo, he gagged hard, when he could draw breath he cried out “T’ank you, t’ank you.”

That is a Hooism for “thank you”. The doctor was charmed by our little darling. The we waited until a nurse came in to draw

blood. Hoo cried and cried and when she finished he cried “T’ank you, t’ank you.” She also was

touched by this tiny tot. She said that was the first time a 23 month old thanked her for poking them.

The doctor came back in and listened to Hoo’s chest again and pronounced him to have

pneumonia. Of course Hoo turns red-eyed and says, “T’ank you, t’ank you.”

Eggs and I shared a secret smile over Hoo’s head.

You see dear reader, whenever Hoo wants someone to leave he says “Thank you.”

Today Sunday he is better. Bouncing around as recovering children do.

Watching Sesame Street and eating jelly toast.

T’ank you God, really T’ank you!

A Father’s Tribute/The Strongest Man

My Father-in-law spoke in Washington this week.

Holocaust Remembrance Day.

He is a survivor, historian and regular speaker at the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. He was asked to give a short talk at the SEC. I went along. I have heard him speak many times, but hearing him speak publicly is always a special treat that’s hard to pass up. He is in his 80s and I don’t know how much longer he is going to feel up to these excursions. But there he was, dapper as ever, with a discreet American flag pin on his lapel.

The SEC, Securities Exchange Commission  had a full house with an overflow room and the talk was televised to offices in several other locations. While we waited for everyone to get seated I glanced around the room at all the Brooks Brothers suits and carefully coiffed women. They all looked friendly and open. Nice.

My father-in-law gave a recount of his life just before the war, during Hitler‘s regime and his time in concentration camps. The audience was as riveted as they always are. I have heard the stories, read the books so many times that they have lost the “punch in the stomach” effect on me.

The men from his hometown, Warsaw  Poland, forced inside cattle cars,traveling for days, not knowing their destination. The heat unbearable, no  water never mind food. The arrival in concentration camp. Getting off the train to the barking of dogs and Nazis who shot anyone who staggered or tried to run. The death selection lines they passed through. Who shall live and work and who shall go ahead to the human ovens for immediate extermination like so many pests. Horrifying. Imagine your own husband, brother or son going through such a process. The women experienced much the same and the children..

So I sat and listened to him recount, and stand witness.  I have read his memoirs, his published book,  I knew what he told these privileged people was but a glimpse of the nightmare he lived.

Then he told of the last time he spoke to his father,before they knew the horrors that awaited them. He was a boy in his teens. His father blessed him and said, “My son, there are very hard times coming. You will have to be very strong.”  My father in law’s voice broke down with the memory of this last exchange. He brought his hand to his mouth. The audience waited. He gathered himself together and continued. “It was the last time I saw my father.”

I heard gasps behind me. I turned to see a man wiping his eyes.

I think if my father-in-law’s father could see  his only child that survived the war and the time he spent in the concentration camps, who went on to marry and raise a family in America.  A man who never lost his faith in God. A man who stands witness and consistently gathers the strength to go back to one of the world’s most terrible crimes, man against man, he would see his blessing came to fruition.

He would be so proud. My father-in-law was strong when he had to be, and continues to be strong because he chooses to be.

He is the model we live up to, the man we can only aspire to be like, with a strength beyond our understanding.

He is husband to one.

Father to five.

Grandpa to many,

and great-grandpa to a growing number of lucky little souls.

This is gmom,

peace out.

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                        INVICTUS

OUT of the night that covers me,
  Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank the God that ever will be,
  For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
  I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
  My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
  Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
  Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
  How charged with punishment the road,
I am the master of my fate:
  I am the captain of my soul.(William Henley)

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