A Bone to Pick

“To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone, and a funny bone.” Reba McEntire

Forget achievement, in marriage and parenthood these bones are critical for survival! Each of these fragments provides us a defense against the daily disasters life throws our way. If we don’t make sure to exercise them, they won’t be able to bear the weight that stress, worry, and heartache put on us through the years. Unfortunately for us, it doesn’t seem that we get to pick and choose which bone gets a work-out, when.

I think I discovered my wishbone first. I remember playing make-believe with my best friend from the time my memory begins.  I was anything from an FBI agent to an astronaut, whatever life I could dream up seemed possible back then. In this never-never land, my imagination ran free; for here in this sacred place of innocence, reality did not trespass. When choosing my pretend profession, I didn’t once think about what salary it would earn, or if it came with benefits. I didn’t worry about whether it would match my 401k. Nope. The only determining factor was what I wanted to do that day.  I can still remember how liberating it felt to not be tethered by the restrictions of debt. Oh, how my mind soared! Then, my dad got sick, and my thoughts were grounded.  I knew I had to put my wishbone away and find my backbone.

Since I hit puberty, I don’t recall not having a backbone. I have relied on this part of my anatomy figuratively for as long as I can remember. It’s gotten me through unthinkable loss, impossible odds, and unbelievable setbacks. I’ve never taken it for granted and do my best not to under estimate it. I have found that your backbone can’t be broken; it can be stressed, strained, or even splintered, but never broken. We all have experiences that test our backbone, that push us to the limits and then further still. As I visited my friend and her newborn son at the hospital on Sunday, I all but saw her backbone struggling to handle this most trying ordeal. When she held him, I noticed the tell-tale stiffening of her spine and the dogged glint in her eye; he would get through this, she would get through this – no matter what. It’s this fiery determination, this passionate persistence, this obstinate resolution that lends you a strength you never knew before.  To some it feels like it comes out of nowhere, just when they need it most; to others they’ve known it’s been there all along.  Either way, your backbone is a silent superhero, coming to your rescue when crisis calls.  Just as I was getting ready to leave this new mommy, her little guy did something to make her laugh and a smile shone in her eyes.  I knew then it was going to be ok, for she hadn’t lost her funny bone.

I often believe that the type of life you live is determined by your ability to maintain a sense of humor. I think the trick to surviving the everyday lies in finding the comedy embedded in the drama. In our house, my sister could sling a one-liner that had us all rolling on the floor in fits of hysterics before the tears had a chance to fall. It’s often these moments I’m most thankful for. Her knack for finding the joke in the somber has always helped me find the silver-lining.  I suppose it’s the funny bone that keeps the backbone from burying the wishbone. Lately, I've been getting the feeling that it's time to do a little digging.  

Whether it be rousing your wishbone, strengthening your backbone, or tickling your funny bone, you are fortifying the frame that protects your soul.  This week, if you’re wrestling with the small stuff or in a battle with something big, and you feel like your backbone is over-worked, you lost your funny bone and a wishbone is nowhere in sight, make sure you let your thoughts take flight; who knows; maybe you will find that amusement is the wind beneath your wings. For  sometimes, success (or survival, depending on how you look at it) lies solely in hanging in there until another day dawns. See you in the skies, my friends…

Where Your Heart Is

Ok, so we know that Rome wasn’t built in a day, Albert Einstein failed math, and it took Benjamin Franklin 101 tries to get it right. We learn early on that to achieve any great professional success, one must be determined, persistent, and relentless.  We’re cautioned it takes focus and energy to climb up that proverbial corporate ladder. Why then aren’t we taught that personal success requires the same? There is nothing that demands more of me than my relationships with family and friends. I think there is no greater commodity than your time and attention, and nothing is more telling about a person than how one chooses to spend them.  I elect to invest mine in those I love. That’s where my heart is.

 “Twice the reward, half the effort.” As I passed this bulletin board advertising a guy purchasing red roses from Weiss’s, I was immediately disgusted by it. The campaign was clearly targeted towards men to sell easy purchasing for Valentine’s Day. Maybe if the ad would have used a word other than “effort” I wouldn’t have been quite so put-off by it. But as it stands, I was truly ticked. What is it with this lackadaisical mentality about love?  Relationships take work – a lot of work.  They require commitment and demand sacrifice. And sometimes, they are just not convenient! Now, to some reading this, I know this may come as a shock to you. You, born of the reality TV age where love is a contest set in fantasy locations¸ where celebrities get married and divorced faster than it takes most people to plan a wedding. I can see why you think that love isn’t supposed to be difficult. Multi-billionaire networks and the ridiculous antics of the famous have led you to believe that relationships aren’t supposed to be hard, that people are disposable and quickly replaced. Oh, what a sad, superficial portrayal of such a profound emotion.

While I may not be a true romantic, I am most definitely a sentimentalist. Now I wouldn’t go so far as to say I don’t enjoy receiving red roses and reservations at a five star restaurant, because I do – I really do! It’s just that fresh picked weeds and handmade burnt toast mean more to me. I am completely swept off my feet by thoughtfulness. I want a gesture or a gift that makes me feel special, that shows the time and attention you invested in it. Unfortunately for Weiss, that necessitates effort.  Again, just to recap, so do relationships. Never more so I am discovering, than the one you have with your child.

As habit follows, it’s now the wee hours of morning, Sunday’s I think, and because of how spectacular Liam’s poop was, I just finished changing not only him but his sheets, too.  Since he has been going through the apparently infamous, four-month “wakeful” period, sleep hasn’t been something I’ve gotten to enjoy too much of this week. For all the wonderful discoveries my son is making, being able to find his nook and put it back in his mouth regrettably isn’t one of them. And since my husband is still immobilized on crutches, every single one of these reconnaissance missions fall on my feet alone. But for each of my boys, I will heed their call.

And so, this Valentine’s Day finds me celebrating a new relationship and focusing on a different facet of love. This February 14^th, I commemorate a mother and a dedicated wife. Although I’ve only been married little over a year, the Honeymoon period has long since ended. In all that has happened since saying “I do”, we have come a long way from that couple in the pictures. With baby spit-up on my shoulder, in my white granny panties¸ I feel like I barely recognize that girl in the beautiful dress. But just as I close our wedding album and begin to wonder if Brian and I had any inkling of what a real marriage takes, I hear him hobble into the nursery and comfort Liam. I guess we did. Turns out, we’re both determined and persistent when it comes to our personal success. When I went in to the baby’s room to join him, I saw his heart next to mine in the middle of that crib.

So in tribute to this love that takes commitment and sacrifice, I am going to boycott “The Bachelor” Monday night, rent an old Cary Grant movie, and snuggle in next to my husband, enjoying just each other’s time and attention.  Here’s to whatever love you are celebrating this Valentine’s Day, wherever your heart is <3    

If You Can't Walk, Crawl

It’s often said that a journey begins with one step; what they don’t tell you is that once started, there will be times upon the voyage when you are going to find yourself faced with obstacles that make walking no longer an option.  When this happens, you have two choices: sit there and wait for someone to come along and pick you up or pull yourself to your knees and start crawling. As I hit hurdles in marriage and parenthood that leave me feeling temporarily crippled, sitting just doesn’t seem to be an alternative…

It’s been over a week since Brian blew out his knee and has been confined to crutches. Watching him struggle with the most mundane of tasks, I am amazed at how much we take for granted basic mobility. Although I know pain is a constant state of being for him, he astounds me with his fierce determination and unrelenting persistence at becoming more self-sufficient each day. When he decided to tackle the stairs, and started scooting up them backwards on his behind, I was reminded what I loved most about my husband: he is a crawler.  As he tackled those steps one by one, I reminisced back on milestones in my life when I was incapacitated.

In looking back on my pilgrimage from childhood to adulthood, I would say that my character was built by each pivotal moment I had to clamber my way through.  I didn’t think of crawling as an option then, or even a choice, but rather an automatic response to a call in arms. And since my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was 11, suffice it to say there were many rings to answer.  But since meeting and marrying Brian, I feel like I have been cruising along easy street. It’s been such a luxury to have had the opportunity to hitch-hike aimlessly through these past five years, with only the responsibilities and needs of him and I alone strapped to my back. What an opulent indulgence to focus exclusively on ourselves. Outside cancer’s debilitating reach, I rediscovered the simple joy of a stable, low-stress environment that created for me an illusion of control. Each morning I woke up in this happy place, I felt like I was in Disneyland; I knew what a vacation from my family’s reality this was, especially my mother’s. For the past 15 years, she’s been the sole captain of our family’s ship. With all of our collective needs weighing only on her shoulders, we came close to sinking more times than I care to count. But because of her tenacity and the sheer power of her will, she managed to keep us a float.  Somehow, some way, whether she has had to beg, borrow, or steal; our heads always remained above water. Now, if you look at her closely, you can see the scars crawling through the past decade has left. The ones on her knees catch your eye first; however, it’s the ones on her soul that you can’t look away from. Since Brian had his accident, and all household responsibilities have fallen onto my shoulders, it forces me to question whether I still remember how to crawl myself.

Last night after I lugged the trash cans to the curb and tucked Liam into his crib, I stood in front of my grandmother’s vanity as I got ready for bed.  I remembered when Brian and I picked it up from the house my father grew up in, and put it in the first bedroom we shared together in our apartment on Walnut Street.  It’s hard to believe that just two years later, here it sits in a home of our own, just a room away from where our very son is beginning to grow. As I started to change into my PJs, I thought about the many different fights and struggles Brian and I have been through that led to me standing on this new silver carpet. When my pants fell to the floor, I noticed scars I had never seen before on my knees.  In disbelief, my eyes flew to the face in the mirror; there, hidden in the depths of my reflection, were matching marks on my soul.  I couldn’t help but smile in pure satisfaction as I realized I haven’t forgotten how to crawl after all, I guess I’ve been doing it all along…

It’s frustrating to go from being able to walk to being forced to crawl. No matter what stage of life you find yourself in, your knees balk at the travel ahead. But your soul welcomes the chance to grow. So tonight, if you find yourself sore after a long day, maybe an even longer week of crawling, take a good look at yourself; when you notice scars never seen before, know that you are pulling yourself along your journey. Albeit at what may feel like a snail’s pace, we are nonetheless making our way through these character-building stumbling blocks. Crawl on, dear friends…

Laughter and Lemonade…

What do you do when life hands you lemons? Ok, so I am a self-proclaimed optimist, and since as long as I can remember, have always looked at life’s less than ideal situations as opportunities to learn and grow.  I’m a glass half-full, find the silver lining, look for the rainbow after the storm, kind of girl. I’ve had many doors close on me, but have seen even more windows open.  It is my belief that one’s journey is measured by experiences; the distance of your travel depends on whether you use them to hold yourself back or push yourself forward.  But no matter which direction you find yourself currently going, I’ve found that lemonade and laughter always make the trip more enjoyable. ..

I was at work when Brian called to update me on his appointment with the orthopedic surgeon – thank goodness I have a desk job and was already sitting down. He tore both his ACL and his MCL (this one so bad it exploded, and is going to have to be replaced with a cadaver’s!) and needs surgery. In the meantime, they fitted him for a brace and made a follow-up appointment to check the swelling. After I hung up the phone, and the implications of this prognosis started to hit me, I began to laugh. It was either that or cry, but considering the professional company I was in, mere pride dictated the former. Somewhere in this escapade I knew there had to be something positive, but without a bottle of wine and my favorite pair of sweatpants, it wasn’t the time to look for whatver that may be. It was, however, time for lunch. And this day necessitated the greasiest fried combo I could get my hands on.  Comfort food, the adult’s happy meal.

That evening, as I divided my evening between caring for Liam and waitressing for Brian, I wondered how I was going to handle a cranky, teething baby and a frustrated, handicapped husband for the next two months. I was already wearing thin on patience, but now my compassion seemed to be running low, too. As I crawled into bed, I knew I needed help. I closed my eyes, opened my heart, and prayed. That night was the first time Liam slept until morning.

Now here we are, having survived our first week under these new circumstances. Family and friends alike have banded together to help make this predicament as manageable as possible. Although we have a long way to go before we're back on our feet and moving forward, there's much I have found in this silver lining. Brian is now spending more time then ever with Liam, I am getting more sleep than I have in months, and after surgery and rehab, his knee will be good as new.

So tonight I raise my glass of lemonade and toast to all of life's bittersweet moments - may they remind us to count our blessings and keep us laughing. Cheers...

The Art of Juggling

I have always admired the skill of juggling; the remarkable ability to keep multiple objects circulating simultaneously, for the act itself seems to blatantly defy the law of gravity.  I’ve never been able to get the hang of it, perhaps because I can’t get past the thought of releasing more items into the air than I have hands to catch.  Perception of control is my modus operand.  It all boils down to one thing: mind over matter.  So while the idea of tossing around four tennis balls seems impossible to me, I am right now handling the demands of an infant, an injured husband, and a sick dog.  If you change the context, swap inanimate objects for life roles, it turns out I just might know how to juggle after all…

It was 4:08am; Liam was crying, Brian was sleeping, and I, was up. Like every other time, I started to pull my head off of the pillow, slide out from under the sheets, to begin making my trek to the nursery. But for whatever reason, this Wednesday morning my body decided enough was enough, and demanded help.  For the first time since we had the baby, I rolled over, woke my husband up, and told him it was his turn to tend to Liam. As I felt him get to his feet, I snuggled further in under the covers and began to spread out over the toasty spot he just left vacated.  Just as rest looked to be mine, a light exploded overhead and destroyed the only chance I had gotten at more than 4 hours of sleep in just as many months. Certain expletives leapt to the tip of my tongue as I glared at the perpetrator who stole my sleep.  There Brian stood, less than happy to be awake, completely ignorant to the fact that because of him, I was awake, too. Since I was up now anyway, and he seemed to have his hands full with just the baby, I went downstairs to take the dog out.  As I waited for Tyson to do his business, I thought about how it was going upstairs.  When I had passed by the baby’s room, Bri had on the big light and was entertaining Liam, neither of which is recommended when aiming to put a child back to bed. But as I made my way back up the stairs, all lights were out and silence was all that could be heard. Well, I’ll be darned, I thought, as I crawled back into bed. He did it. Before I got the chance to revel in this glorious novelty, I felt a hand on my shoulder – not the big, hairy, work-roughened fingers of a man, but rather the small, doughy, drool-soaked fingers of a baby.  I rolled over in complete disbelief. Yup, there he was, alright, happy as a pig in mud and wide awake. Not trusting myself to speak to Brian at this particular point, I scooped Liam up and marched us both off to the nursery. Somehow I’ve managed all this time to feed, change, and put Liam back down without waking Brian and bringing him into bed with us. Why couldn’t he have managed it just this once? To add insult to injury, I was facing a weekend of taking care of the baby all by myself so that Bri could go play with his boys.

Two days later, 6 more hours of sleep under my belt, and a dog now diagnosed with an ear infection, my husband was doing everything he could to detract from the fact that he was leaving me in the domestic trenches with canine amoxicillin and cradle cap, while he got to hang around a cabin with grown-ups and alcohol. The bottle of wine and pint of ice-cream he picked up was mere ammunition for survival, nothing close to what would be considered acceptable as a peace offering - he owed me bigtime. When the phone rang that night during Liam’s 1am feeding, I knew it wasn’t going to be the best of news; yet, I still wasn’t prepared to hear Brian’s voice telling me he was going to the hospital. He was ok, relatively anyway, but he did something to his knee and couldn’t walk. Sure enough, there he hobbled crutches and all, into our house at 3:30 in the morning. So, my weekend of playing caretaker just extended to include my husband.  Great.

It’s now Sunday; I have found no rest this weekend, and shudder at the thought of having to begin another week in just over 12 hours. But as I look around and realize that Liam is freshly changed, Brian is fed and napping and Tyson just had his medicine, I discovered that it’s never too late to learn a new skill. So no matter what it is you find yourself handling in your life this week, here’s to learning how to juggle  J

All You Need is a Thread to Hang By...

"When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot, hang on and swing." It's now been four months since I've had a full night of uninterrupted sleep, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever enjoy the doctor recommended, 8 hours of consecutive rest again. I am running on empty and standing by sheer force of will. My rope is frayed, I'm grasping on by my fingernails, but I sure am swinging away...

It's 13 footsteps from our bed to Liam's crib, 11 stairs down to the bathroom, and from there, 3 breaths to the refrigerator. Last night, as I counted my way through this familiar maze, the silent sight of bright, white snow caught my bleary eye. Drawing close to the window, I was stunned into alertness by how utterly divine the view was. It was peaceful and calming, yet exhilarating, too. I couldn't help but think of Liam as I looked at this perfectly untouched, completely unblemished canvas stretched out before me; it reminded me of his brand-new soul, pristine and pure. It made me wonder if parenthood begins with a blank slate, too?

This morning, a dear friend became a mother and began her own journey into parenthood. In seeing that first picture of her newborn son, I thought back to that September afternoon when my own came into this world. The memories came back as if it were yesterday - the overwhelming joy, the all-consuming happiness, the love unlike anything before imaginable. I remembered bringing Liam home from the hospital, and settling in that evening as a family. With each feeding and every diaper change, it sank in more and more that he was finally here, that he was ours to keep. Oh, he was such an easy baby, everything seemed to just fall into place. There's so much I want to share with this new mommy, but these first tracks on this day are hers alone to make. Instead, I'll buy her a rope and look forward to having a swinging partner.

In the meantime, I've caught a catnap and have recharged my battery.  If you're hanging by a thread, here's to a good grip and even better company :)

Happily Ever After...Now what?!

Ok, so we all know that Sleeping Beauty wakes up, Cinderella gets her shoe back, and Snow White remains the fairest in all the land. We're told this happens because once upon a time, Prince Charming held their very destinies in the palm of his hand. In meeting him, wonderful, magical things would happen to the princesses and they both would live happily ever after. Now, I'm not claiming to be a princess, and my husband has yet to be mistaken for Prince Charming, but here we are supposedly living the fairytale ending, to find out that our story has really only just begun. And it seems that instead of those bedtime fantasies written so long ago,  our day to day reality more often than not resembles the sitcom, 'Everybody Loves Raymond.' Of course, their cleverly scripted episodes last 30 minutes and air promptly at 7pm; while our dysfunction seems to never end and strikes at anytime.

There's nothing quite like getting up in the middle of the night to the distinct, acrid stench of dog poop; unless of course, your husband discovered it first, turned on every light he could find, and was yelling profanities as if they were capable of doing something other than waking the baby. Now, as I am nursing, these moonlit hours are no stranger to me; however, since Brian's sleep hasn't suffered the same adjustments, being up at this ungodly time was not taken to kindly. But he dutifully rose to the occasion, and went about cleaning up the offending mess. After I had taken Tyson out to finish any remaining business, I came back upstairs to be greeted by Liam's hungry cry. A bit begrudgingly, I detoured to the nursery to feed the little guy. As always, the instant I peek into the crib and see his cherubic face anxiously awaiting me, I forget how tired I am. Sitting in the rocker with his body snuggly nestled in my arms, I can't help but catch my breath at the sheer beauty of him, this precious child of mine. I close my eyes and drink in every ounce of this moment, savoring every minute of it. As I was laying Liam back in the crib, it occurred to me that with Brian the most wonderful, magical thing did happen.

Crawling back into bed and tucking in close beside my husband, I found myself musing that maybe my life is more like a fairytale than I originally thought - sleepless nights, poop stains, and all. Here's to hoping you discover the happily ever after in your life <3