Such A Rare Thing, Radiant Child...

2011. Officially a blur...

I feel like this year flew by at the speed of light...I know it was an important year too, historically and societally and personally too... Even so, in looking back, it feels like only yesterday that I was noticing a world full of Marky Mark's sisters from The Fighter...or driving three hours to a roach motel in Rhode Island only to vehemently turn down the windowless, fire-trap of a room, hop in the car, gun the engine and drive right back to New Jersey 15 minutes later, my kids laughing the whole way...and wasn't it seconds ago that we had "The Clap-Out" for our Class of 2011 5th graders at Washington School...and I could swear it was just last weekend that Susan, Mary and I ate Smith & Wollensky take-out on our beds, an ice pack to Susan's head...then there was the fluke October snowstorm, mass hysteria and cancelled Halloween, but not before I could rock my Mrs. Mia Wallace look...and my Oktoberfest dirndl...and my Boy George feathered braids (2011 was apparently the year of the masquerade, maybe that's why it went so quickly...)... And here we are now, the Holidays almost completely behind us and 2012 within reach...

Like I said, 2011 is officially a blur...

The end of the year, however, is always crystal clear

in my mind, because it is this week every year that I reflect upon my life and where I am...and where I was this week 12 years ago now -- December 1999. Most of you know that at that time I was awaiting the birth of my first child...and on January 1, 2000, she came to me. My first baby, my only girl, my truest love...who knew one person could be so many things to me, but she was...and she is even more to me now. Not just the loving and giving and empathetic and open-hearted girl anymore...she's still all those things...and she's still trustworthy and loyal and unapologetically straightforward...but, outside of being my daughter, she's also maturing into one of the most fun people to be around...to laugh with and hang with and ponder life's mysteries with.

A few weeks into this school year, I picked her up at the middle school and we were racing back to the elementary school to get the boys...the car was quiet and I caught sight of her in the mirror, with her messy bun and fuchsia and navy, tie-dyed scarf and she just looked so cute and fresh-faced, like an adorable preteen with all these possibilities ahead of her... She flipped on the radio and on came the opening bars of "Summer Breeze" by Seals & Crofts ("blowin' through the jasmine in my miiiind..." SUCH a guilty pleasure!!)...and usually Ellie would flip to some crap Top 40 station with Taio Cruz or Bruno Mars busting out my speakers...but that day I hear her say under her breath, "oh cool..." as she turned up the volume. And without speaking or even looking at one another, we sang every word of that song ("feel the arms that reach out to hold me/in the evening when the day is throoooough-ooo..." ) at the top of our lungs for the entire ride -- in harmony, no less. I loved that...I loved that I was singing with my best girl...that she was awesome enough to know all the words to "Summer Breeze" and that I felt like it was 1988 and I was riding in my old Volvo with Allison and Casey and Murph and Danielle and The Donut on way to some fun Bergen Catholic football tailgate...being there with her felt that free...and that joyous. What a gift!

Now I know that "Summer Breeze" thing seems like a nothing story, but to me it was that moment that Ellie became this totally cool, fun, silly friend on top of being my beloved firstborn. I texted TJ: "Ellie just sang every single word of Summer Breeze along with the car radio..." And she wrote back: "Ellie totally kicks a**!" So true.

Ellie reaps all benefits and suffers every drawback of being my oldest...so much more is expected of her...she has to work two times as hard in the house as either of the boys ever will...she is the first to be taken to task...and, no matter who is at fault, Ellie is the first one I will look to to end the madness when there is some screaming/chasing/yelling/tussling the three are engaging in... And as such, she is often frustrated with me...with the unfairness of being the oldest...sick of feeling like so much is expected of her...tired of always being the one who has to give in...like her slip-ups are received in a completely different way than the same slip-up by one of her brothers might be... And as I am the fourth of five children, I cannot help but notice and call her out when she is acting like a bossy older sister....so, in many ways our relationship can be complicated.

But the bright side is that she is my other half...she and I laugh at the same things...and now we even share shoes and some clothes...she gets to stay up later and go to better shows and restaurants and overnights with me...we see movies together and we talk about clothes and makeup and friends and boys and secret hopes and dreams... And though we are actually different in so many ways, Ellie knows me like no one else does at this point...she knows who and what is important to me...she knows when I am hurt or holding back...she cares for me when I am sad or in pain...she cares about my extended family and friends, inquiring after the health and wellness and happiness of those I care for beyond this home... Sometimes she is the mom, giving pep talks and having "come to Jesus" moments with me...and in doing so, there have been many times that she has reminded me to never forget what I am worth. Of course, she calls me on everything -- when I am being unfair, or unnecessarily harsh or strict or angry or insecure or filling up with self-doubt....and she doesn't let me get away with any of it... Still, when it comes down to it, Ellie wants my happiness above all else. Ellie is my very best friend.

Now she is turning 12. I know that we are heading into the years in which she will naturally separate herself from me, keep secrets, share her deepest thoughts and girl talk with her very own versions of Allison and Casey and Murph and Danielle and The Donut...and I know that's normal and that I should let her have that... I should let her experience some of her life's moments with privacy and distance from my eyes and ears. I am ok with that.

But I have wishes for Ellie too...that she stays the loving, giving, empathetic, openhearted, trustworthy, loyal and unapologetically straightforward girl she genuinely is. That she champions her own victories and accepts failures graciously....and that she always knows exactly what she is worth.

Mostly I hope she understands and embraces what I think most adult children struggle with their entire lives -- that her mother and father will always love her no matter what choices she makes and path she follows and stumbling blocks she encounters going forward. I hope she knows that as her mother, as her very best friend, her happiness is my most ardent desire and hope and dream, above all else.

Wishing a very Happy New Year to all of you, my loves, my friends... I have a feeling that 2012 is our year, the best one yet...and in the blink of an eye we will be back here, reflecting on our blessings and good fortune, and wishing Ellie a Happy Birthday once again.

xoxo

Photos:

1. Me, channeling The Boy...watching 2011 fly by...

2. - 8. Ellie during various seasons, at various ages, with various loved ones and on her own... 2000 to the present....

You'll Be My Breath Should I Grow Old...

"Actually, I value every second we're together, from the moment I squeeze his orange juice in the morning till I tuck him in at night. He's not just my boss, he's my best friend too."

Waylon Smithers, The Simpsons, Spring 1991

Most of you know that I am the mother of three...and I think most people would agree that there is no way to explain what it is like to be a mother...not to take anything away from Dads...my Dad, my kids' Dad, my friends who are Dads...they are all truly loving and wonderful Dads... But being a Mom is different because your children are always, without fail, the number one thing on your mind at all times... Men are a million times better than women (savor that, boys, I will likely never say it again!) at separating their thoughts into boxes, focusing only on what needs to be done or dealt with at that moment...and as a mother, that is an impossibility...the lives you are responsible for never exit your brain. Even so, sometimes we just go through the motions...follow the pattern of each day and week and month without thinking about it...and we only snap to attention when something falls out of line or diverts from course.

Some of you know that I am actually the "mother" of four.

No, no...there's no secret baby in my womb or in my imagination or hidden in my attic...this baby is real and was my very first baby...he is my 15 year old pug, Smithers...

Smithers became ours in the spring of 1997 after his breeder decided that though he was genetically perfect, he was too untrainable (even for a pug) to show. He lived with us in a six floor walk up on Morton Street in The Village...and he was the reason our neighbors got to know us...he was happy and spunky and he marked every damn thing in the apartment, on the street, in the park, at my parents house, in the yard...seriously, anywhere he went he desecrated some rug or piece of furniture...but he was so damn cute and we loved him regardless. I remember one time he was sick and I bolted out of the office before a big meeting to get back to him...and he was miserable, on the couch, listless and laying in his own vomit...and I bawled my eyes out the entire cab ride to the Gramercy Park Animal Hospital...and the other patrons were so jarred by the sight of me they unanimously agreed to let Smithers go in ahead of their animals...I didn't even have to ask.

Years later we had Ellie...and the day she arrived home, in this almost un-Smithers-like dog-ness, he became a ferocious guard dog! He hovered around Ellie and me...he barked and snarled at any human being that approached us...he paced outside her bedroom door and when I nursed her he sat at my feet. My sister's two dogs arrived one afternoon as we sat with Ellie on the couch and as they approached, Smithers stretched himself across my stomach and fully got in the bigger dogs' faces like: "keep away from my girls!"

Over the years we had more children...and Smithers accepted his increasingly less dominant position in the household. In recent years he prefers to hang out alone, cuddled up in a ball on his bed in the kitchen while I spend the day writing... We lived in harmony, all of us...he became blinder and deafer and more arthritic as each month passed...and frankly, I committed a cardinal sin of mothering in that he dropped from my thoughts often... My human kids were my priority...our happiness was foremost. Smithers was quietly living...and my role had turned from mother to healthcare aide...feeding and changing and bathing and keeping him alive. Not so much snuggling or playing...sometimes I even tripped over him and I'd get annoyed.

Then last week it all came down on me like a car crash in my heart, and I was certain that I was going to lose him forever...

There was this noise coming from him that made him sound slightly less healthy and spry than a 200 year old man with emphysema. And being a pug, he has that squashed face, so weird breathing noises and hacking were kind of the norm, frankly. But I sat here in my kitchen with some friends last Wednesday night and this sound was new and so awful it scared me, shook us all...when Will heard it he looked to me with panic in his eyes and said: "Mommy help him!" The next day we were at the vet. And though I had prepared myself to hear the doctor prep me for bad news, hearing her say that Smithers needed a chest x-ray because this awful sound could be the result of cancerous tumors in his lungs...and being that he is 15 years old, we will need to consider the options should that prove to be the case...

I knew what she meant...we were going to have to put him down. And she just kept handing me tissues and I tried to apologize but I couldn't speak through my tears. Her aide carried Smithers away and I signed off on all the tests and I agreed to the the estimate...

I called Rob from the car and he was panicked that he wouldn't make it home to see him again...and of course I promised I would never let the doctors do anything to him without each of us having the chance to say goodbye. And he said maybe we can medicate him through Christmas...so we could have him for one last Christmas morning... I totally got where Rob was coming from...but something inside me was saying that if the doctor thought he was too ill, that I owed it to him, as his mother, to ease his pain completely...

I called my sister, Trish, who has had five of her own dogs, three currently, and runs her own dog daycare and outdoor adventure business. And she was so great easing my nerves...she said: "the best gift you can give Smithers is NOT to do anything heroic here...he needs you to be utterly unselfish..." And that is it, you know...the animals give us everything...they make you happy, they keep you warm, they love you so much that they will lay across your belly and growl at all who approach...and they willingly take the backseat to everyone else in your life, no matter how much attention you throw at them or not. The one thing I could do for Smithers was to love him enough to let my feelings take the backseat, to lay across him and not let anything hurt him ever again. I decided that if the doctor came back with bad news, I would be strong enough to let him go. I wept non-stop for the rest of the day.

Later, the doctor called. Smithers had a partially collapsed lung. Likely the result of a bronchial issue developing, an attempt to cough, and a weakened lung taking the hit. While this is serious...and concerning...he could be medicated. There were additional tests pending to rule out tumors, but the normal ways in which they would present on a chest film were not showing. He could be medicated. He would live.

Huge sigh of relief. Praise Jesus or Santa Claus...or maybe my dog-loving Gramps who used to feed Smithers brownies when I wasn't looking was up there pulling for the little guy...regardless, I was not going to have to go through Christmas Day knowing that I missed the chance to show him once again how much he was loved. He's been home for a few days and we hug him every morning...I don't even care when his hair gets all over my sweater...and when he steps in front on me in his blind deafness and I almost kill us both as I trip, I am not mad...because he can't help it. And I am not just feeding and changing and bathing and keeping him alive...he never leaves my thoughts. I am his mother again.

So...this whole exercise was a lesson to me in many ways...a lesson about love, first and foremost...I love that dog...he has meant so much to me...I don't want to take that love for granted... His life was a gift to me...and I guess I realized that in all my loves and relationships that the gift of someone's love is the most blessed thing we can ever possibly possess...and besides your love, the next biggest gift you can give to someone is your unselfishness...your willingness to put their needs ahead of yours even if it hurts to do so. And I always thought I knew that...but I didn't really know it until I faced losing him...until I had to imagine Christmas without my first baby...

So the ending to this story is happy...Smithers is blindly nudging at the Christmas tree as I write...I haven't heard him make that horrible sound in at least 12 hours....and the kids and all those gifts that need giving are back to dominating my thoughts. You know, this is a beautiful time of year...no room for sappy, sad moments, as important the lessons those moments bring us may be... And so, I am just going to celebrate the season and toast the coming year and laugh with friends and hug my kids and cherish those I couldn't imagine living without. And to you I am sending all of my prayers and cheer and joy and blessings of love.

Happy Christmas!

Photos:

1 - 7: Smithers, various ages and stages of life, with the people who love him

Cherish: The Thought Of Always Having You....

So when we left off Suse wasn't moving, Mary was screaming and I was...well, half-dressed...

In the meantime, while you were waiting to hear whether Suse survived or not, some biblical October snow storm from the depths of hell descended upon the Northeast...and this time it was the great state of New Jersey upon which Mother Nature's fury rained down... So usually we are all smug about the 200 year old oaks that are the prize of our neighborhood...I mean, of course, every time the wind blows I run outside and scream bloody murder for my kids to drop what their doing and join me in the basement...I have an irrational fear of being crushed by a falling tree...that and being swept up in a surprise tornado...oh and I am also afraid I will be bitten by a vampire... But on that Saturday of Snowtober 2011, it was like every tree in the neighborhood made a suicide pact, because all at once they were falling like a particularly scary and dangerous meteor shower... Every few minutes I'd hear a crack and see snow and leaves wafting through the air in monstrous clouds...another one down. The power blew after a tree on my neighbor's lawn tore the power lines out of both our homes...and so began the fun and games the next six days brought us... No heat, no power, no Trick-or-Treating...no blogging... And it was awful...but thankfully, it was Suse who rescued my family from the cold and dark that week...generously offering us beds and meals and warmth...

But I will get back to that...for now, let's get return to the bathroom floor...

So Mary is kneeling next to Suse and I am standing over her...and we are both yelling: "Suse! Suse!"...and after what seemed like forever, but was probably 10 or 12 seconds, Suse's eyes began to flutter open...and we kept yelling to her: "Are you ok? Suse?" But she wasn't answering. So Mary takes charge and tells me that we have to get her on her left side...and that's when Suse started to talk a little...she says: "I fell..." Awww...I wanted to cry...we know you fell!

Soon Mary was barking orders at me -- thankfully, I must say, because I am tragically useless in a crisis...do I have to remind you about the time Suse cut her fingertip off on a mandolin and I stood there staring at her asking if I should call 911...??? Anyway...I got the wet cloth as Mary turned Suse on her side and covered her with towels...Mary checked Suse's pulse, inspected the bump and then told me to hurry and get some ice. Hurry? Ok...let me remind you that I had just walked 26 miles...then I sat on a bus for 20 minutes...then I stood in the room undressing while Suse showered. Every muscle in my body had stiffened, and not in a good way...I could barely freaking move!!! And I wasn't dressed!

But Suse needed me....so in my best impression of Tim Conway's "Old Man" character from The Carol Burnett Show (LOVE that show!), I shuffled from the bathroom into the room and in what had to be like 5 minutes of maneuvering, I somehow pulled on those Athleta yoga pants and my pink fleece, grabbed the ice bucket and Tim Conway'd my way out the door and down the hall...and I am thinking: sh*t, I hope Suse's life doesn't depend on this ice because she may not make it at this rate! Of course, there was a family waiting at the elevator, a mom, dad and two girls...and while I tried not to make eye contact with them, they stopped their conversation, turned completely around and gaped at me Tim Conway my a** to the ice machine and subsequently spill ice all over the floor because I didn't lift my arm fast enough to turn it off...I kept my back to them and my eyes to the ground and they finally boarded the elevator...then I Tim Conway'd back to the room...

Susan was lucid when I returned and the color was returning to her face...they were talking and as I wrapped some ice up in a wash cloth, Suse started to apologize to us...which was ridiculous and we told her so...and she kept saying: "give me a few minutes and then I will be ready for dinner..." and we kept telling her to shut the hell up...but it did remind me that we had dinner at 7...we had Sam and Betsy coming in from NJ and the other girls were all getting ready in their own hotel rooms...but Mary and I had already silently agreed that Susan was going nowhere, and neither were we...

So though I didn't want to alarm anyone, I decided to text the entire group the news...and I quote: "Little bit of an unexpected wrinkle... Susan just fainted and hit her head on the tub. She is lucid but very pale and starting to get color...we r not leaving her." And though the girls are still mocking me for choosing the words: "Little bit of an unexpected wrinkle..." it wasn't meant to be funny...but for some reason...the night got more and more ridiculous from the moment the text went through...

We got Susan to bed...she was talking and laughing at my stupid jokes and Mary was making fun of my Tim Conway gait as she put Moroccan oil in Suse's hair to help dry it... And Mary is a Master Trainer with a million health and nutrition degrees, schooled in all proper First Aid techniques...so I was confident in the care we were administering...and I felt my role was just to keep us laughing...and fed...you know, since I wouldn't let Susan stop to eat all afternoon and that certainly contributed to her episode...oops... You know, I owed her some nourishment...

But...come now, you know me...no crappy room service for us...I suggested we order out some juicy, iron-rich fattiness and creamy, starchy deliciousness from Smith & Wollensky...my treat, of course... And truthfully, I insisted it be my treat so they wouldn't suggest another option... Crafty!

So I called the restaurant and rambled on to the guy on the phone, whose name was Oliver...and maybe it was a slow night, but Oliver and I were getting along swimmingly, becoming buds in mere minutes...and in the process he obviously detected my silly, euphoric weirdness and decided he should try to make me and my hotel room full of three delirious chicks his new fantasy girlfriends. Just like a man! So as Oliver hung on the other end, I chatted with Mary about the menu...and he goes: "Say hi to Mary for me..." And I stopped cold...the lack of food finally taking its toll...it was like my brain blanked or did a flip... He called Mary by name!?! How could that be? How could he know I was with Mary? Seriously, this stream of idiotic consciousness went through my brain.

So what did dumba** here say back to him, suddenly turning on our newly minted friendship and getting all suspicious and angry-like? I say: "Hey, wait...who is this?? how do you know Mary?" I was dead serious...and before he could answer, I said: "Mary...did we really call Smith & Wollensky or is this a joke? Is this a trick? Am I talking to (Mary's husband) Sandy? Sandy, is this you??" And I hear hysterical laughter on the other end of the line..."I heard you say her name, dummy!" Oliver says between guffaws.... Oh...right...duh... So after Oliver ranked on me for a minute, we sent Mary to pick up the food, and Suse begged our Master Trainer with multiple health and nutrition degrees to come back with some Coca-Cola while she was at it... And though we were throwing her to the wolves at Smith & Wollensky...and though she would rather die than buy a Coke...off she went... And as it turns out, Oliver and the Irish bartender made her have one glass of pinot noir out of the bottle she wanted to buy...and they asked her to sing for the food...and while she waited they tried to set her up on a date with some illegal from Ireland sitting next to her at the bar... Imagine I had Tim Conway'd my a** three blocks down for that? I would probably still be there...

Mary came back with the food (and a Coke purchased at Duane Reade...) and found Suse and I already under the covers...we ate dinner in bed and fell asleep by 9:30, Friends With Benefits with Justin Timberlake playing on the hotel pay-per-view in the background....

The next day the Walk continued...I stayed back with Suse so we could take our time getting ready...we met the rest of the girls on the Upper West Side after an early morning breakfast at a cafe on Lexington Avenue... (You see, I saw the error of my ways...health and wellness includes sustenance, even if it means finishing the Walk three days after everyone else does...). Anyway, we waited at Columbus Circle, where Mary ran to us and we embraced...and we walked the next 8 miles together... The rest of the girls caught up with us with one mile to go...and among the group was Colleen's sister Kristin... Kristin, another young mom having her own personal experience with the disease, had joined The Jugheads that day for the final 13 miles...a show of strength that our group had first seen in Kathy...and now again... Colleen and Kristin gripped one another's hands as The Jugheads walked the final block...and as we crossed the finish line, a surprise awaited...Colleen had secretly arranged for their Dad and Kristin's children and husband and best friends to be waiting there, cheering for Kristin...and it was an amazing moment for us as a team... We all cried at the scene...and we embraced as we passed through the arch marking our ceremonial finish. Yet again, another beautiful and emotional ending on that final day...sisters and friends...strong bonds and unending support...

So I always say this, and being Thanksgiving, I suppose it means even more -- each year the Walk reminds me to cherish my friendships and to acknowledge how blessed we are to be surrounded by people who truly want the very best for us... And I am reminded how lucky we are to know how wonderful it feels to love someone enough to Tim Conway past the highly populated elevator bank for a bucket of ice...or to sing for your meal at Smith & Wollensky, and have to buy a Coke on top of it....or to arrange for everyone you know to surprise your sister at the finish line...or to wait behind until every Jughead makes it to the end...or to bang your head hard enough to pass out and still get up the next morning to walk another 9 miles...or to never tire of spending the small moments together -- beers at the twenty-first mile, hating on the Youth Crew, The Manhattan Bridge, oddly worded texts, snuggling under the covers in a hotel on Third Avenue, eating high end take out and falling asleep to pay-per-view...

And whether it is the Walk or some insane snow storm or something as simple as laughing with my kids, a chat with my mom, a surprise phone call, a walk around the block, dinner with the girls, cocktails on a sunny afternoon or a generous friend opening her home to me....each year at Thanksgiving I am reminded that life really is filled with moments to cherish and the simple love we share..and I am reminded why every single day I am beyond thankful to be surrounded by all of you...

With lots of love to you and yours this Thanksgiving...and always...from me and mine...xoxo

Photos:

1. Man down...

2. Looks like me, dragging my a** past the elevator bank....

3. Suse, Mary and me...Oliver's fantasy, seen about as clearly as I could think...

4. Suse, Mary and me...looking nice and sharp on Day 2, Mile 10...

5. Sisters Kristin and Colleen support one another on the final stretch...

6. Team Jughead 2011 -- 39.3 miles in... at top: Susan M.; center, left to right: Kerri, Kathy, Helen, Suse and Wendy; front, left to right: Mary, Me, Kristin and Colleen...

7. My most cherished...the kids, with me in Paget, Bermuda, July 2011

Help Me Get My Feet Back On The Ground....

Ok so...I know you all want to know how I learned my lesson...and I will get to that... I will fast forward right through the walk up First Avenue as Suse, Susan and myself gazed longingly at every pizza joint and dumpling house and taco truck and cupcake shop and chino-latino dive and Italian bakery we passed on the way to the next pit stop...and maybe we were grumbling a little that we were bringing up the Jughead rear while we were at it...and as such, I was still refusing to stop for pizza, dumplings, tacos, cupcakes, chino-latino grub or cannolis...

Soon we reached St. Vartan Park on First and 35th, where the Walk coordinators were inexplicably dressed as leprechauns and saying "Happy St. Patrick's Day!"...and no, I was not hallucinating in some delayed reaction to the evil spirits of the Manhattan Bridge...this was by far the oddest pit stop theme yet... Either way, we pushed past the group in fuzzy, orange wigs and green, plastic bowlers and Susan and I stopped to use the ladies room while Suse hit the snack table...

While on line at the bathroom behind this woman who was disrobing in the stall...a frizzy-haired, Latina girl, probably early 20's, poked me on the shoulder and said: "So, how was the Bridge?" And it's then that I realize we Jugheads are not alone in our Manhattan Bridge issues...or wait, did she know me? Nah...it really was just that hurdle all the Walkers struggle with... So I am all: "well, it was better than last time...we feel a lot less beat this time..."...yada yada yada... And then I say: "How did you guys find it?"...and she goes: "oh no...I didn't go over the Bridge...no way I was ever doing that again. I didn't even bother going over the Brooklyn Bridge...I just came right here..." Oh...huh....not sure I would have admitted that, but ok.... I just stared blankly back at her and moved on to dousing myself in Purell from the wall dispenser...

We found Suse waiting outside the restroom area with cheddar Goldfish in her hands...and she almost seemed unaware that she was standing right next to that damn Youth Crew, still in yellow, still too loud and this time doing the effing "Mashed Potato"...immediately my mood soured...that spunky sh*t was a bit much on any given day, but come on! I sneered at them as Suse led us to the snack table where Susan and I grabbed those PB&J graham cracker sandwiches and the worker said to me: "oh, The Jugheads...we have seen a bunch of you today! you guys are probably the third or fourth group...." Wench! Was she looking to get slapped? I mean, especially after the Youth Crew irked me with their sugar sweet sunshine sh*t... But all I said was: "Yeah, we know...." Ok...I shot her a nasty side-eye while I was at it...

Soon we were on our way back up First Avenue when Suse received a text from Kathy -- she and her crew were waiting for us on Third Avenue at 46th Street at a place called O'Neill's...I had been there before...and the thought of a frosty cold one was a nice motivator... We made record time, practically skipping up Third (ok, maybe not...we were at 23 miles by this point...)... We busted through the door and found Kathy, Wendy, Helen, Kerri and PJ with pint glasses in hand...the rest of the bar was filled with men sitting alone and a cranky bartender... Soon we all had drinks in hand -- Stellas for everyone! We toasted...we took some pics, none of which came out...and we rejuvenated... Back out on the street, we moved forward...and I noted to Suse that we were only 3 blocks from our hotel, to which she said: "oh please don't tell me that..." Ha!

It was all laughs for us...even the pain and the Youth Crew and the friendly competition...and as we giggled about the hotel being within reach -- can we go take a nap?? -- a group of Walkers stepped in front of us... There was a young guy, maybe 28, who was walking with the group and he was wearing a plain old Hanes t-shirt with these words on the back in black Sharpie:

I'm Walking For You, Mom

1952 - 2008

Ouch. Ow. That just broke my heart...it made me think of my own children, how they would survive without me...and it reminded me that the blisters and the Youth Crew and the hunger and the exhaustion were nothing. I grabbed Helen by the hand and, finding myself too choked up to talk, I gestured towards the guy and his shirt...and she said, solemnly: "yeah, I know..." We walked the next 40 blocks to the Upper East Side...and I don't remember sharing one complaint that entire time...

Soon we crossed East 84th Street, passing the home my Dad grew up in between York and East End, which I pointed out to the Walkers surrounding me -- none of whom were Jugheads, other than Wendy... Next thing I knew, we were walking up the East River promenade, recounting the first year when we took a moment to play Justin Timberlake in "D**k In a Box"...still hilarious! Behind me I heard Suse saying that Pina (Pina! I hadn't seen her in hours!) had texted, asking us to let them know when we were crossing the foot bridge to Randall's Island...we could see it in front of us...the finish line in grasp...

Wendy and I were leading the pack as we stepped off the foot bridge onto ground at Randall's Island...and as we followed the walking path along the East River, we heard cheers and claps as Pina, Mary and Colleen (still with the Ghostbusters nuclear power pack strapped across her a**...) jumped out from behind a tree... We hugged and squealed...and then waited there as the rest of the Jugheads crossed over... Together we walked to the 26 mile marker and made some guy take our team picture... And together we walked the next .2 miles and, with a crowd of spectators and walk coordinators cheering and clapping...and, tearing up a little, The Jugheads crossed the Finish Line together, as a team...

It was truly moving...

Once we had celebrated, we extracted ourselves from one another's embrace...and suddenly, we were splitting off in different directions -- some to the massage therapy station, some to the tent full of electric foot massagers, and the rest (that means me...) to the medical tent to visit the podiatrist... Mary had already made BFFs with one of the doctors and she walked me, Susan and Helen right over to him and he went to work. He bandaged me all up with his girly soft hands and he put a brace on the little piggie on my left foot that reverberates with agonizing pain only during the Avon Walk and when I wear super high heels...or when I walk 25 blocks in super high heels looking for a cab, which happens on occasion... Next, Mary and I grabbed Susan in the foot massage tent and headed for the bus back to Midtown...Pina and Colleen decided to join us and the others decided to wait behind for the final group of Jughead friends to cross the Finish Line... Sam and Betsy were on their way in to meet us for dinner, so the plan was for all of us to meet on the corner of Third and 49th at 6:55 and walk to dinner together. It was 5:00...

Thirty-five minutes later Suse, Mary and I were dropping our bags on the floor of our hotel room, chit-chatting and organizing the shower schedule... We were dragging a little after sitting on the bus and the muscles stiffening...but we were looking forward to a fun night out and a long awaited meal... Susan usually takes the lengthiest shower, so she hopped in first while Mary and me laid out our clothes and undressed for quick shower turnaround... Mary was sitting on her bed and I was standing next to the TV, in nothing but undergarments and a tank top...I was texting the other girls, determining their whereabouts and progress...and Mary and I were laughing about something...maybe making fun of the Youth Crew or laughing about Colleen's Ghostbusters nuclear power pack....

And then we heard it... Thump, thump, thumpity, thump... Coming from the bathroom...

"What the...? Did you hear that?" I said as Mary stood up...

"Hey Suse, what's going on in there?" I call out...

Nothing.

"Suse? Suse?" Mary called as we walked towards the bathroom door...

Nothing....

Mary and I lock gazes, both of us in disbelief.

"She's f**king with us...." I said...hoping???

Mary began knocking...

Nothing????

"Suse?! Are you ok? Suse?!..." she called...

Nothing!!!!

My heart began to race...

"Ok, Suse I am coming in!" Mary said...

She opened the door....and then she screamed...

"Oh my god! She's down! She's down! She's not moving!"

...Yeah, so...that lesson I learned? This is where that part starts....

More later...xoxo

Photos:

1. Walked right the hell past it!

2. Utterly out of place Walk coordinators...at least as I remember them to be!

3. Told you the shots all tanked! Still...I know you wanted to share those Stellas with us anyway...(if you squint you can see it's, left to right: Susan, Me, Wendy, Kerri, Helen, Kathy and Suse...)

4. My early morning bestie, Pina, greeting me on the walkway to the Finish Line, Randall's Island...

5. Jugheads at 26...smiling through the pain...(back row, left to right: PJ, Kerri, Kathy, Mary; center row, left to right: Susan, Suse, Wendy, Helen, Colleen; front: me and Pina...)... Please take note of the mammoth fanny pack attached to Colleen's a**....

6. Suse, Mary and me...back at the hotel after 26 miles....in our (your??) fantasies...!!

Tick-Tock On The Clock...

Jugheads 2011...third year...fourteen friends...39.3 miles...over $31,000 raised...

Ok so, I am still trying to figure out how the hell Colleen was moving so fast with that Ghostbusters nuclear power pack pouch she had fastened to her a**...but somehow she was...and after the first mile, I saw she and Mary only once more before we crossed the foot bridge into Randall's Island on Saturday afternoon... But I am getting ahead of myself...

For my friends and I, the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer has become a wonderful annual tradition...everything we do that weekend has become sort of a ritual, starting with our midday arrival on Friday...check-in at event headquarters...an afternoon cocktail and a group dinner... This year Suse, Mary and I added an afternoon stroll up Third Avenue in search of the lululemon and Athleta stores for Walk must-haves (organic cotton yoga pants and fuchsia bra-strap headbands...who doesn't have those?)... Forty blocks later, Suse was getting irked at mine and Mary's refusal to cab it and I was already developing blisters on my sockless, riding boot clad tootsies...and it was raining too... Against all odds, I remembered to take along an umbrella...and those of you who know me well, likely remember that I was raised by a mother who's solution to unexpected rain is: "oh well, a little rain won't kill you...run!" I never have those "in case of emergency" items tucked in my bag -- baby wipes, Purell, healthy snacks, tissues, breath mints, extra undergarments, umbrellas... I've got money, Excedrin Migraine, an Epipen and Nars lipstick...usually I depend on Suse or Ellie to mother me through these kinds of moments... Either way, I had an umbrella and I was so proud of myself...it almost made up for thinking that a 40 block walk wearing riding boots without socks was totally fine...so things were looking good... Then we snagged the only cab available on all of the Upper East Side at 4:30 on a rainy Friday, and found our way back to the hotel just in time to freshen up and meet Kathy, Wendy and Helen for dinner at Pastis in the Meatpacking District... No doubt a fantastic evening ahead...

And it was...the six of us were all tucked away between a super long communal table full of Euros and a small, round table of buff yet perturbed gays who definitely would have preferred more distance from our girly yapping... Sorry boys! We ate our goat cheese salads and steak frites and Moroccan salmon and seared scallops and drank our champagnes and Tanquerays and cabernets...and we had the best time, really catching up beyond playground chat for the first time in a long time...talking about the kids and our families and the new happenings and developments and moments we are reaching in our lives... And it was a celebration to kick off this great weekend...but also a reminder that now we are able to have those conversations with ease, when only a few years earlier there was a heaviness in our hearts...yet there we sat, this time, celebrating Kathy's recovery and survival... This is why we do the Walk every year...

The next morning, the sun not yet shining, Mary, Suse and I, all clad in various shades of pink, met the rest of the girls on the corner of 44th and 12th...Susan M., Colleen and Pina had driven in together that morning...Kathy, Wendy and Helen had caught up with PJ and Kerri along the way...and our new Jugheads, Amy, Liz and Meika, were all excited for their first go-around... We sported brand new team shirts designed by Helen and Susan M. gifted us each with strands of pink Mardi Gras/"show your t**s" beads to wear (which brought quite a few comments and compliments from the bikers along route...hmmm, I wonder why...)... With the look complete, the Jugheads were ready to roll, so we made our way together to the front of the line...staying at the head of the pack was an essential component of our "keep moving, finish strong" strategy... The only drawback to our positioning was this sticky, sweet, super cheerful "Youth Crew" in yellow shirts who were bellowing cheers and yays! and yahoos! and way to go's! in our faces and I truly wanted to shake the happy exuberance right the hell out of them...too early for that much noise. Thankfully it lasted only minutes...and at 6:45, we were off....

Not even 10 minutes later I had already fully lost sight of Colleen and Mary up ahead, and I looked behind me to see the rest of the girls taking their time... And I may have short little legs, but I walk quickly...so Pina and I kept pace and found ourselves alone together for the first six miles... And it had been ages since we had time like that together, so it was a gift...even though we wondered if we would ever see the others again. We did eventually, over on Upper Broadway...we stopped for an iced latte and saw Kathy, Wendy, Helen, PJ and Kerri...and we stayed with them until we bumped into Mary and Colleen on Columbus Avenue...the Walk coordinators had just told them they were Walkers #3 and #4...wow, we really were at the head of the pack. Pina skipped ahead with those two and I pushed through with the others until we parted ways when the group decided to make a Starbucks run on 9th Avenue... I don't like to stop...I am like that on road trips and with household projects...let's just keep moving til it's done or I will lose interest...I will want to hit a movie or grab a cupcake or call friends to meet me if I don't keep going... I figured I was ok walking alone...you know, I'd catch up with one of them along the way, wouldn't I? But wait...our frontrunners were long gone...and the others were on an endless line ordering coffee...was I being stupid embarking on this solitary mission...??? So I stopped right beneath the 11th mile marker on 9th Avenue and 58th and waited....and wouldn't you know it, just minutes later the two Susans were walking towards me...I hadn't seen them since the starting bell went off.... I was so happy to have friends by my side again...

We headed downtown together.... They caught me up on their morning as we passed through Hell's Kitchen, Chelsea, The Village, SoHo, Chinatown and on to FiDi.... All along we checked in with the other girls to confirm our positions along the route... "Colleen just texted -- they are at Mile 20!"... "Helen texted -- they are only a few blocks behind, just leaving SoHo!" We crossed the Brooklyn Bridge together, the wind whipping...the tourists and strollers and hand-holders and the Chinatown Alzheimer's Walk posse making it hard to navigate... But we stayed together and took in the scene...this beautiful, historical place on this gorgeous day...an American flag perched on top...it is a breathtaking experience.

Soon we stepped into Brooklyn and a Walk coordinator said "You are Walkers 180, 181 and 182..." Still ahead of the pack of 5,000 walkers, we were kind of surprised...but thrilled. We felt great...Suse suggested we grab a slice to celebrate our arrival in the outer boroughs...and Susan, a proud Brooklyn girl, was willing...but I insisted we push through... It was about 12:30 p.m. and the Manhattan Bridge was looming....

Now those of you who have been following the Jughead saga these past three years may remember the collective hell we encountered that first year on the Manhattan Bridge... It was surreal...like the minute we stepped on the foot path there was bad energy all around...bike riders zipping by at alarming speed, seemingly on a mission to kill us...packs of Hasidic men pushing us aside...the loud, rattling subway car every few minutes...dehydration and hallucinations...injuries and complete loss of hope. For us, the Manhattan Bridge had become a symbol of the low point we all encounter during difficult times...that bump in the road...that cross to bear... And it was Kathy -- back then still in treatment, sporting a pink bandanna over her hairless head -- it was she who pulled us through, who cheered us on, reminding us that we would cross this bridge together... And it was such a pivotal moment for us that first year...so symbolic and true...the turning point that bonded us at once, not just as friends, but as sisters. We were there together for Kathy...experiencing the toughest moment in her personal journey...and with that truth as inspiration, how could we not fight our hardest...

Even so, none of us ever wanted to cross the Manhattan Bridge again... But there it was, standing tall and foreboding...taunting us, maybe?.... But we kept walking forward...

And who the hell did we see waving at us from the bridge as we rounded the corner? Kathy, Wendy, PJ, Kerri and Helen... Weren't they a whole neighborhood behind us when we hit FiDi?? What the?? Whatever...time was ticking and the wave from the top of that sinister Manhattan Bridge was a beautiful omen...like the energy up there had changed since our last visit...our friends were smiling down at us and every little thing was going to be all right...

Ok, so there were speedy bike riders and the rattling subway train...and it is too tight on that foot path to fit groups...but no Hasidic men shoving us...no hallucinations, thank goodness...and no injuries, even better! Susan regaled us with stories and we looked at the gorgeous Manhattan skyline and the wedding party having their photo taken on the ground...and we watched as the Jamaican dude with short dreads and a Gilligan-esque sailor's cap on the vintage Schwinn stopped for a little ganja fix...every little thing really was going to be all right... I am not going to lie...it was still the low point of the walk...but we had conquered the Manhattan Bridge...it didn't scare us anymore...we could cross any bridge we wanted to and be strong and safe on the other side... Still, stepping off the foot path into Manhattan was like breaking free from a dark forest... We took in the moment, not speaking as we walked up Chrystie Street on the Lower East Side when Suse broke the silence with:

"Wait...how did the other girls all get ahead of us...???"

And, with visions of our friends enjoying a round at the hotel bar while we were still walking, I said: "See, I told you we didn't have time to stop for lunch..."

Remember...I am the girl who always leaves the house without the Purell, the umbrella, the baby wipes, the extra undergarments...so of course I am channeling my mom and thinking: what's the harm in another few hours without protein?? A little hunger won't kill you....run!

Be assured, though, I learned my lesson later on that day....

More to come...xoxo

Photos:

1. Who doesn't?

2. (left to right) Mary, Suse, Helen, Me, Wendy and Kathy at Pastis...as shot by some German tourist while the perturbed gays became even more perturbed by our bridge and tunnel posing...

3. Jugheads 2011, the morning of, just before they held me back from throttling the Youth Crew; (back row, left to right: Helen, Mary, Suse, Colleen, Wendy, Liz, Kerri; front row, left to right: Susan, Pina, Me, Kathy, Amy and Meika).

4. Colleen and Mary, walkers #3 and #4, already on Randall's Island while the rest of us are still at the start line...

5. Suse, Me and Susan...sharing a Kodak moment and pausing to let the Chinatown Alzheimer's Walkers pass...

6. Jugheads in front of us...(left to right: Wendy's back, Kerri's back, Kathy's back...)

Milestones...Moments...

A decade has passed...

I know I am not alone when I wonder where the time went...feels like a lifetime, but wasn't it just yesterday...? And I know that on occasion each of us, in our private moments, looks back on that day and still, all these years later, we feel the hurt as if it did just happen yesterday... I certainly do...

But then I remember that a week after that day, I was gifted the most beautiful and amazing baby boy...Tim. He really was so perfect...sweet and happy and mine...and as much as my spirit was kind of broken in the days before his birth, Tim brought me out of the collective heartbreak we were suffering...I was his mother, and I had to be present and loving and joyful in his birth. As hard as you would have thought joy might be under the circumstances, his birth was what brought my family and many of my friends back...his birth reminded us that we are blessed and life would go on...

He will be 10 in a few days...living proof that it has actually been that long... He remains beautiful and amazing and perfect still today...a decade later...

When I was a little girl I remember being overwhelmed by the concept of a decade...I remember what had to be late in 1979, being tucked in one night and telling my Dad that I was afraid to exit the '70's, the decade of my birth... The '80's were looming and I was almost innocently anxious about what that turning point meant (maybe I knew that leg warmers, acid wash, "We Built This City" and the birth of Lindsay Lohan awaited...I have always been a little clairvoyant...)... But truthfully, the turn of a decade seemed so huge to me then...I felt like I was leaving something I loved behind.

So it is an immense amount of time that has passed, and an immense amount of time that lie ahead...

I was thinking a lot about how we seem to process the 9/11 experience each year... This past weekend I spent Sunday morning scouring my TiVo menu, adding every single anniversary special and commentary and documentary and analysis to the "to-do" list...wanting to remember all the details from every perspective...not wanting to leave those memories behind... And I made my arrangements to attend memorial tributes and blessings and Masses...and I guess I figured I was fulfilling my vow -- the vow we all took -- to never forget. And as genuine and heartfelt as I know my gestures to be, I began to think that maybe, for me, "Never Forget" also meant something more....

I don't know...maybe it's just me, but I do wonder what deeper knowledge they would share with us if they could...and in my heart I think any one of those lost would urge the rest of us not only to Never Forget the events that took place...but to also remember how much they would give to have been able to live even one day of life this past decade... And maybe to Never Forget can mean that honoring their sacrifices is as simple and ordinary as recognizing the beauty of living everyday life -- the good and bad...the ups and downs...the late trains and early arrivals...the boring lunches and fantastic dinners...the bad hair days and rocking a sweet new look...the break-ups and make-ups...the rainstorms and warm summer nights...the final endings and new beginnings...the mundane moments and major life changes...

A decade behind and another ahead...in a blink of an eye Tim will be turning 20...and the decade of my birth gets further and further away...and that little girl snuggled under the covers in 1979 is responsible for three of my own who will take from this anniversary the most valuable wisdom I can impart... That early lesson I had in Tim's birth -- that life goes on -- is what I

will remember as the gift their sacrifice gave us... The rest of us get to live life...and so, with their lost hopes in mind, I don't ever want to forget to embrace the simple joy in doing so...

So...my wish as we start the next 10 years is that you and I are still here at the other end...living each day, being surrounded by the people and things that fill our hearts and color our worlds...whomever and whatever that may be at that time...and that we are engaging in whatever good and bad, ups and downs, final endings and new beginnings, mundane moments and major life changes that this life may bring us...

So much love to all of you...this day, the next 10 years and always...

xoxo

Growin' Like A Breeze...

I drove through 8 states on the way to drop Ellie off for a second year at Camp Hollymont in Asheville, NC... Once beyond New Jersey, we hit Pennsylvania, Maryland and West Virginia before we hit Virginia, the lengthiest part of the ride...and it was beautiful, I must add...the Shenandoah River Valley and the Appalachian region...truly beautiful country. Then to my complete surprise, upon exiting Virginia after a Friday night layover in Roanoke (and a visit to Hollywood's Restaurant where they had a menu item called "Better Than S*x" and I mortified Ellie by jokingly telling the waitress: "I'll have two of those..."), we crossed the state line into...wait, what?... Tennessee??...huh? I am an Elvis girl, you all know, so I am all about Tennessee...but, really? Tennessee? I guess I thought Tennessee was somewhere else...obviously my geography is way the hell off because those crooked state lines down there got me all screwed up... I trusted

my Garmin though, and it was correct, because we arrived in Asheville, NC only about 90 minutes after we crossed into Tennessee... Those 90 minutes brought us through the most amazing vistas of the Blue Ridge Mountains... I wish I could have taken it in deeper, but even the glimpses through my windshield were breathtaking... In my head I was humming a little John Denver "Take Me Home, Country Roads" and choking up...partially because it is sad that John Denver is gone...but mostly because this is truly a spectacularly beautiful country.

Anyway...once in NC, Ellie and I hit the Little Pigs BBQ for lunch, bought Lilly Pulitzer dresses at Palm Village to wear to dinner and (at the recommendation of the always spot-on, Helen) checked into the super chic Grand Bohemian Hotel. Perched at the base of the Biltmore Estates, Grand Bohemian is this fabulous boutique-y hotel with a hunting lodge vibe...moose heads on the walls, animal-

hide upholstered chairs... Hill Country antiques and artwork...so fab (like the other end of the universe compared to the Un-Pleasant View Inn of Westerly, RI...)... We ate at The Red Stag Inn and chit chatted and shared secrets and fell asleep together one last night before I had to let her go for two weeks... And the next morning, I did just that...she asked me to drive away when she wasn't looking because she couldn't bear to see me go...heartbreaking! So I did....and just under 11 hours later, at 9:11 p.m. on Sunday evening, I pulled into my driveway... The house seems empty without her...

But...

I had to get home...I had to bust through those 8 states before Monday morning so that I could wake next to my sweet little darling, Will, whose 8th birthday was that day. He entered this world with a bang, you will all remember, in a touch and go emergency C-section...and from the minute they wheeled me in to see him, all wrapped and swaddled like a little football-sized sausage, he stared into my eyes after all that trauma...and damn if he didn't have my number right from that moment. We have been nearly inseparable ever since...and secretly, my heart hurts when we are apart.

As you know, it is my tradition to salute my kids on their birthdays so that someday they will have proof how much they meant to me... And there is a boatload I could say about Will...I could go on for hours... I could tell you all about how he's my most challenging, outspoken, competitive and the most naughty...how he's been known to break into fisticuffs with his brother on the church steps after CCD...how once he drew a picture of two people sitting at a table and having dinner and drinks in the "date" field at the top of his homework page...and how he argued almost to the death with me because I didn't want him to name his new Wholly Mammoth Webkinz "Horny..."

And I could go on and on about how Will brings such joy to everyone...about his natural humor, vast creativity and staunch individuality.... how he tends to be obsessive with his passions...how since Day 1 he has been fixated on architecture and building construction, pointing out improvements that could be made in every structure we enter...how he loves music and will ask me to play songs over and over ("The Boxer" is a fave...so is "Centerfold"...no joke...) while he quietly listens (and yells at the other two if they dare sing along...)...and how not only

has he watched Titanic over 50 times, he can rattle off facts about the actual ship and its ill-fated

voyage like he is talking about breakfast. And I could ramble on about how super ballsy he can be -- loudly

and confidently ordering a Bud from the vendor at the Yankee game; sneaking into the VIP section of some fundraiser/party we attended at the Yogi Berra Museum at Montclair State...(the kid walks right the hell up to Yogi...by the time I enter the room he is posing for a picture with the legend...and the next thing I know, he's poising with the Jersey Boys. As we walked out, Will goes: "I love it in first class...")

I can blather on about his sensitive side...how he cares for his two stuffed rabbits (Bunny and Junior) as if they were his real children...how he cries profusely when his sister or brother are hurt...how he is always sharing his wishes and hopes and dreams with me...how he ends each school day running to me and throwing his arms around my neck...and how he says he likes to snuggle up right next to me on the couch so when he looks away from the TV, all he can see is my face... My god, has anyone else ever loved me like that?

But Will is best understood when speaking for himself...and his most marked characteristic is his wit, which births the pithy bon-mots that effortlessly fall from his lips... You know, many times he fully gets his jokes...but often he is just observing...and I am not sure which of those instances I love more. Many of you have been subjected to these bits here and there, and others of you have experienced Will's musings firsthand...but for the rest of you, I couldn't possibly leave you out...so as a birthday tribute to the little monster, I have compiled some favorites below...and no doubt you will find yourself oddly drawn to him like those of us who share his life are...

As the entire family sits down to enjoy our Easter feast, Will asks with strength and clarity: "hey Mom, what does 'puberty' mean?"....

"Mommy, why do robbers and mimes wear French hats?

Explaining Taylor Ham and its Jersey-centric appeal and limited availability to Will, who asks: "You mean even China people and the ones in New York City don't know about it?"

Papa and Will discussing how everyone remembers learning how to ride a bike...Papa:"When you are an adult and you are talking about your childhood...." Will, cutting Papa off: "don't worry, I'll mention you."

Will: "what's a lesbian?" Ellie: "a woman who loves another woman." Will: "well you love Mommy..." Ellie: "no, it's when two women get married." Will: "that's not a lesbian...that's a gay person!"

Will: "Mom, my stomach hurts" Me: "Well then you need to stop drinking that Diet Coke." Will: "oh no Mom, my stomach hurts in a way where I NEED to drink Diet Coke..."

"Mom, I've decided what to be for Halloween this year...a Bud Lite!"

"I don't care what you say about being German, you are more than half Irish and Daddy is too...that makes me 100% Irish!"

“Tim, you have to go to Yale, I want to be the only one to go to Princeton…Dad, tell Tim he has to go to Yale!”

"I don't like salad. It's gross. I mean, it's just leaves with toppings on it..."

After a day of playing with my sister's dogs: "I hate Rocko's personality...but I like playing games with him. Well, I guess it would be his dog-nality that I don't like."

Apparently considering possible destinations for his 10th birthday trip, he says: "Mom, what city is less than 2 hours by plane?" Me: "Uh...Cleveland?" Will: "That settles it, I am going to Cleveland for my 10th birthday!"

Upon serving Will his toasted (blackened) muffin one morning: "Aw Mom, it's burned..." I say: "No, it's crispy.."...his retort: "Yeah, that's because you burned it!"

"Baseball is cancelled? Well that's ok...I mean, I like playing baseball, I guess, but we're not on TV

so what's the point?"

Will: "I got a C on my practice spelling test." Me: "A C? How did that happen?" Will, without irony: "Well it was just the practice test, it doesn't count towards my college grades..." (the "C" was for "correct" by the way...)

Tim: "Mom, what happens when you die?" Will, interjecting matter-of-factly: "After you die you are born again as someone else..." Tim, to me: "Is that true?" Will: "Of course it is..."

“Some people think they are born to do something, but they’re really not. I KNOW I was born to be a great architect.”

and lastly...

"Mom, I am going to build all kinds of ships when I grow up

...the future is going to be SO cool with me around..."

*sigh*

I may be biased...I'm his mother, after all...but my feeling has always been that the present with Will has been exponentially cooler than I ever could have guessed it would be...so yes, I'd say the future is looking brilliant white...bright and sunny and super cool...

And like that beautiful countryside, I want to drink it all in...every word my beloveds utter... Because, you know, that's how I know I will never forget how blessed and lucky we are to have one another to share the future with...

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy! And to my big sis, Cathleen too...this family's original quick-witted Leo...xoxo

Photos:

1 - 3: Roadtripping: 1) The girls...2) Shot from the driver's seat...entering a Blue Ridge Mountain vista... 3) Reuniting with Camp bestie, Kathryn...

4, 5 & 7 - 12: Will at various ages with the people who love him...

6: Clever rendering of how Will sees the "date"...