eatthefrostingfirst

 With all the graduation talk I cannot help but to think ahead.  Because I’m neurotic like that.  One more year and oldest graduates highschool.  I am sick to my stomach, overly proud, excited for his future, and wishing he was 3 again all in one giant bubble of emotions.  And then I do it all over again the following year with youngest.  But this is life, right? It’s what we do as parents. We love and nurture and teach and allow mistakes (and we make mistakes) and then we give them wings and watch them fly. (Metaphorically of course) Flying, as a reminder, looks different for each of us.  Some may go to a four year college, or a community college, or no college at all.  Some may travel or live at home.  It doesn’t really matter, the point is whatever they choose to do- we are still sick to our stomachs (and excited and anxious) because we are parents and this is in the handbook.  To feel these bubble of emotions from birth  until the end of time.  While I have oldest in my house for a

 Someday you will understand why I look at you for a extra few seconds while you’re just sitting there watching a show or staring out the window.  Or why I tell you to drive carefully every time you get into the car (I know you are eye rolling me  every -single -time  but that doesn’t stop me from saying it). Someday you’ll get that I ask you questions; not to pry, but to get to know more about your life. When I tell you I’m so proud of you, I mean it each and every time.  They are so much more than just words. I promise one  day you will actually miss my hugs instead of resist them.  You will get why you’re never too old for me to want to snuggle with you (god I miss those days!)  and how I can never get sick of staring at old pictures of you and laugh (and cry) while watching past videos.  One day you will look back at this time and realize everything I do-  every decision I make-  every ounce of my being-  is all for you- all about you.  To my rising junior and senior in highschool-

I was pregnant with oldest and his twin brother Zachary when my water broke at 18weeks. I was admitted to the hospital where the OB/GYN fellow, highly suggested that I terminate my pregnancy. I didn’t At the age of 3, a therapist told me my son was “most likely” on the autism spectrum because he lined up his toy cars. He wasn’t. At the age of 4, my sons amazing pre school teacher (days before she left on medical leave and later passed away from cancer), took my hand and said to me “He is wonderful. He and you are going to be more than fine”. He is. And I am. Words matter. Choose them wisely. Wait before you speak. Sometimes what may be a slip of the tongue, is implanted in someone’s brain (and heart) for a really long time. And then again, sometimes , someone’s kindest of words holds on in one’s heart for a lifetime. Oldest is a rising senior in highschool. He (and I) have met more doctors, nurses, therapists and teachers than the average 17 year old. The majority have been nothing b

I’m the person who doesn’t stick with much. I need changes. Tired of the grays in my house lets switch to brown hues- and yup- back to gray . Time for a new duvet. I could use some new towel colors. Bring on the throw pillows. Today’s the day. I’m going to try this new gym. New diet. New shampoo. I try. I don’t stick. I mean well. My intentions are good. But apparently I easily get bored. It’s probably why I’ve always had jobs instead of a “career”. I really should lease ; not buy. Rent; not own. So I guess what I’m saying is -you’re welcome dear husband and darling children for letting you stick around as long as you have.