Through a Child's Eyes

I love the art which children create. It is frequently colorful, detailed and honest. It always puts a smile on my face. I have a young artist friend who truly made my day by drawing a picture of me. This picture has been hanging on my refrigerator so that I can look at it every day and smile. I love her use of color and how she paid attention to detail. Notice the little birds sitting on their nests and the flowers on the bushes. Pink is one of my favorite colors so I love the dress. And I love how she drew me. Tall and slim, with the greatest hairdo and look at that smile on my face ~ it is just like the one I have every time I look at this picture. Thank you, dear artist friend.

Happy Birth Day April !

Flashback to January 29, 2009. My husband and I head for our car as we leave the bowling alley. We make plans with our friends to meet the next week - same time, same place. As I get behind the driver's wheel I check my phone messages. Only one. It's from our daughter who is 32 weeks pregnant with our first grandchildren. That is correct. Grandchildren. She is expecting twin boys in mid March. I start up the car as I listen to her message.



" Mom, Kyle and I are on our way to the hospital. My water broke. Meet me at the Elliot."



Holy cow ! This was the phone call I had been waiting for. I looked at what time she had called. Twenty minutes had passed. I jammed the car into drive and stepped on the gas.



'Deb, maybe I should drive," my husband quietly suggested.



" Why? Why should you drive?"



"Well, so far you have managed to drive over the curb and you just took a left turn at that red light. There is no left turn on red law as far as I know," he calmly replied.



" I am fine," I not so calmly snarled.



I drove for a few miles and then quietly turned and looked at him. Using my quiet indoor voice I said , " I can't remember how to get there and I need to get there fast." My mind was whirling and I could feel the emotions starting to take control. Somehow we made it to the hospital and I parked in the nearest snowbank. We ran through the hospital doors and made a quick stop at the front desk. We were directed to the third floor birthing center. My daughter had originally hoped to have a homebirth but that wasn't to be. She was still hoping to not need a Cesarean section and had been doing her homework for months. I knew she was prepared. I, in the meantime, was prepared to sit in the waiting room as long as it took for my grandsons to arrive.

I tried to contain my emotions as I approached the nurses' desk. I told the attending nurse my whole life story and she finally interrupted me and asked me my daughter's name. I told her and she looked at me calmly as she said, "She'll be brought into recovery soon." What?

"No, you don't understand. My daughter just arrived here thirty minutes ago. It is her first birth. I truly doubt that she gave birth in thirty minutes."

"The twins have arrived and are on their way to the Newborn ICU floor." What?

None of this was making sense to me. This was not the birthing plan that April and I had gone over and reviewed for months. I looked the nurse right in the eye and said, " Is my daughter okay?" She met my stare and said tight-lipped, " They will be wheeling her to recovery soon."

My knees started to wobble. I felt nauseous. I reached for the arm of a chair to support me. "Where is my daughter? I need to see her now! "

And at that moment my son-in-law turned the corner and was facing me. And he had a huge smile on his face. I knew then that April must be okay. I started to cry.

And she was okay. Despite a few complications, an unexpected C-section and a great loss of blood my little girl was okay. And her babies were okay. She was now a mommy. And I was a grammie. And a new chapter in our lives was about to begin.

I walked into April's room to find her hooked up to many machines, looking so small, so pale. I wanted to climb right into the bed next to her and just hold her close. Instead I got as close as I could and bent down for a kiss.

" Mom, I did it. I had the babies." She beamed from ear to ear. "Have you gone to see them yet?"

"No, not yet. First I had to make sure my baby was okay." I brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Mom, I lost five gallons of blood." It was then that I realized that April was a bit drugged up. I smiled at her and just nodded in agreement. April has always had a flair for exaggeration.

The rest of that evening was spent running to the fifth floor to see my incredibly cute grandsons and back to the third floor to visit with April . Not sure who designed the hospital but not the best of plans. But it did allow me plenty of time for reflection. I remembered that Halloween almost thirty years ago when April arrived - our little treat. I remembered the thousands of pieces of artwork and poetry that she had created including many love notes to me which I will cherish forever, her dancing while standing on her daddy's feet, carrying a pair of her daddy's dirty socks around and smelling them throughout the day, the scare we had when the doctor thought she might have cystic fibrosis, the dance recitals, the cheerleading tournaments, the proms, the popcorn soup she made for the family, and the night she stood on the stage for a school talent show. Oh, that night...she stood on the stage , age 10, accompanied only by a piano player as she sang 'Would You Like to Wish On a Star' ~ her tiny voice lost in the huge auditorium. My husband and I sat in our seats, willing her to sing louder...the empathy was overpowering. We wanted to just reach out and grab her to our chests and hug her tight. And that is how I felt the night the twins were born - I just wanted to reach out and pull April onto my lap and hug her tight. I wanted to take away the pain from the traumatic birth of her sons, I wanted to shelter her from the stress of motherhood, and prepare her for the emotional roller coaster which lies ahead. And while I can't physically protect her I am always there for her - to talk with, to laugh with, to share with, to help her in anyway possible.

And now we are celebrating the first birthday of the twins. One year has passed. The boys are growing and thriving, happy and healthy. April and Kyle are excellent parents, working together. April writes a blog, Eclectic Effervesence which allows one to see the struggles and joys of raising twins in this day and age. So April, thank you for giving your father and I the gift of grandparenthood and Happy Birth Day ! Celebrate !

First Day of School

In a few days my oldest daughter will be starting school. I didn't buy her any new school clothes this year. No shiny new shoes for her. I wanted to buy her a Strawberry Shortcake backpack to put all of her supplies in but she wouldn't hear of it. I recommended that she polish an apple or two and hand them to her teacher as she enters the classroom. I think she harrumphed at that suggestion. I really did offer to buy her a new desk so she will have her very own workspace. I won't be standing at the corner with her waiting for the big yellow bus to come bumbling down the road. She is quite independent about this whole school experience and doesn't need my help but that is probably a good thing since she is thirty years old. I know it seems impossible for me to have a thirty year old child and you are probably searching the Guinness Book of World Records to see if I am listed under 'Woman who gave birth at the age of one,' but alas I truly am old enough.



I have always respected and believed in education and its importance. I understand and respect that college is not for everyone and truly believe that some of the best educations are not found within the walls of academia. But my daughter is a born scholar. She LOVES to learn and to be surrounded by papers, piles of thick books, syllabuses, schedules and research materials. She already has her Bachelor's Degree and is now pursuing her Master's Degree in Linguistics. And I couldn't be happier for her. She lives on the opposite coast from me so I do not get to see her nearly enough. But when talking to her on the phone recently about her upcoming first day of school I could hear the excitement in her voice. She had renewed energy and zest. She talks fast on a slow day and on this day I had to set my ears to super fast listening as she excitedly told me about the classes she had signed up for and the people she had met so far. I am so happy for her. I am so proud of her. And then I decided I wanted the whole world to know how very proud I am of her.



Dear Oldest Daughter,



As you prepare for your first day of Graduate School, I find myself reflecting on the past thirty years and just a few of the thousands of experiences we have shared. When I was pregnant with you the popular belief was that if I ate lots of tuna fish my baby would come out with an IQ of 500 so I ate many tuna fish sandwiches. Of course now the research shows that maybe that wasn't the wisest decision because of mercury levels but you certainly are one smart cookie. Dad and I started reading to you prebirth. I would hold the books up to my belly button so maybe you could peek out and see the pictures and Dad would read the words to you. You would kick me and poke me when we came to a verse that you felt passionately about - you had very bony elbows. Dad would sing to you and I talked to you incessantly. Your present interest in Linguistics does not surprise me at all.



My favorite thing to play when I was young was school so imagine how delighted I was to have a little girl who was my first real student. I read to you from the beginning, and when you were four you wrote your first book titled 'Henry and Denise'. I took dictation which was no easy task since you were a fast talker even back then. You drew all of the pictures to accompany the text. The book starts out...'Once upon a time there were two people. One day they were walking down the street and they found a box. It had two lines and a design on it. Their names were Henry and Denise. They opened the box up and they found an ...' the story continues for 21 pages and that book sits on my coffee table today.


I cherish the memories of walking to the local library and choosing books each week. You loved going to the children's room and there we would sit playing Hi-Ho Cherry-O and finally we bought our own copy of the game so we could play it more frequently. Your love for books and your proficiency as a reader was obvious from a very young age. You are proof that reading to children at a young age does make an incredible difference in the life of a child.


Prior to your starting public school, your dad and I had done our research and had the ability and freedom to be able to move to a community which had a reputation and track record for teaching children how to learn. And hats off to all the educators through the years who recognized and encouraged your love of learning. And words can not describe the pride your father and I felt when you not only graduated from high school but you graduated at the top of your class ~ with a 4.0 average. Your hard work, dedication and focus are to be applauded. And I must give some credit to the many cans of tuna fish I consumed while pregnant with you.


You then went off to college, taking a piece of my heart with you. You excelled in so many ways. You have traveled to places I have only had the pleasure of reading about. You challenged yourself constantly. You were like a sponge soaking up as much knowledge as you possibly could during those college years. I am thankful that your father and I could give you the gift of education and we know that you appreciate it and have never taken it for granted. You have developed into an intelligent, compassionate member of society who gives back to others and who uses her brain to make the world a better place.


You are a risk taker which is obvious when one learns that you started your own business and have run it successfully for the past few years. You love a challenge and to problem solve. You are one of the most organized people that I know and on your next visit home maybe you can help me straighten out a few closets. Again.


And as you prepare for this next chapter in your life I just want you to know how proud your family is of you ~ always and forever ~ Mom. xo

Deflated

Hi. My name is Debbie and I am a recovering mother of the bride. After months of planning, it is all over. Done. Finished. That chapter in my live is complete. And what a chapter it was!

I wasn't sure what to expect with this wedding, the wedding which we refer to as the 'American' wedding. We had gone to India in February for the 'India' wedding and now it was our turn to host the festivities. My daughter and her fiancee wanted a 'traditional' American wedding. She wore a beautiful wedding gown, her dad walked her down the aisle and our minister married them reading familiar words and Scripture. Guests arrived from India, all corners of Canada, Texas, Arizona, California and many states up and down the East Coast. We all shared a good laugh as we discussed the many different ways we greeted each other as we all came together at the rehearsal dinner on Friday evening. The Canadian girls gave us the two cheek 'air' kiss, the Indians greeted us with a slight head bow and put their hands together as they greeted us with 'Namaste', and the Americans shook hands, hugged or kissed or some awkward combination of all three. And so there I was ~ air kissing, bowing, shaking, hugging and kissing - all at once. I was exhausted.

The wedding took place at 5:00 pm. I have to be honest here - I am not a huge fan of these late afternoon, early evening weddings. I can't stand the wait time. By Saturday morning I was ready to go. But...it wasn't about me. It was my daughter's wedding, my daughter's day, so I kept myself busy until the magical hour. So off to the spa I went for my hot stone massage.

In my opinion if all people received a monthly massage the world would be a better place. I can think of only one physical experience which is more enjoyable than a hot stone massge - and I am not talking childbirth. As I laid on the massage table I tried to sleep as the massage therapist worked her magic but my mind was racing. I started talking. My sinuses started to let loose. And then the tears came. Lots of them. The massage therapist said to let the tears flow. I had no choice. So I laid there defenseless as tears poured down my face. My nose was running. I was, once again, a mess. I like to think I was a hot mess.

So many emotions were running through my veins. A jumble of thoughts and memories fought to get attention from me. My parents were not able to attend thier oldest granddaughter's wedding due to failing health so I cried tears for them. Memories of my daughter as a little girl filled my head and I was taken back to the days of playing school with her, watching her dance to the movie 'Foot Loose', and to the times when I had to set an extra plate at the table for her imaginary friend, Charlie Brown. I chuckled as I remembered the evening I sat down to eat and my daughter screamed at me - I had just sat down on Charlie Brown!

Memories of walking to the nearest corner store to buy our daily Popsicle, spending hours in the children's room of our local library and dancing to 'Girls just want to have Fun' in our kitchen were all part of the tears which cascaded down my cheeks. Just let them flow. Memories of reading, reading and reading some more to my girl. Memories of telling bedtime stories, making dozens of Christmas cookies, watching her run on her school's track team, preparing for the debate team, buying her first prom gown. So many memories, so many tears.

And then I focused on the here and now. My first born was getting married ! My daughter has met her soul mate. She has met her match. They will challenge each other. They will respect each other. They will support each other. They will love each other. My tears dried up. I took a few deep breaths. It was time to get this party started.

My daughter had asked her dad to say a blessing before the meal at the reception. He had been working on choosing the perfect words for a few weeks but I had no idea what he was going to say. He looked so handsome standing in front of all of the guests dressed in his tuxedo. I felt my heart flutter as I watched him. After thirty years of marriage he still reaches me at my core. His words were spoken from the heart and powerful. I would like to share the last line which set the tone for the evening... ' We pray that the differences now gathered herein will form a beautiful mosaic which exemplifies, glorifies and celebrates that which is the very best of humankind.'

And then we got the party started. We ate. We talked. We danced. We toasted. We laughed. We made friendships. We shared traditions. We shared cultures. My son found out he loves Punjabi music. We taught the Electric Slide to our new friends. I found out there were more tears hanging out in my tear ducts! They became visible when my beautiful daughter danced with her wonderful father. I watched as he struggled to keep his tears under control. Just let them flow. My cheeks were wet as I watched the groom dance with his mom. She was so nervous. She was not at all familiar with our tradition, with our dancing style, but she did it for her son. Her love for her son enveloped the room.

We came together from around the world to witness this marriage and at the end of it all the world seemed to be a more beautiful mosaic and our differences seemed less than our commonalities. Love does make the world go round!

So here I sit, propped up. I am exhausted from crying. My feet hurt from wearing cute heels which really hurt. I am reflecting. Three weddings in one year - phew. My closet is now full of gowns, tight heels and saris. I will deal with all of that later. Now I have to figure out what to do next. Sleep is high on my list. I'd love a massage but my tear ducts ache. Cleaning this house is low on the list.

But there is no rest for the weary - today is my husband's birthday! Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday. Not the newlywed daughter but the pregnant daughter ~ my Halloween baby. She will be 28 years old tomorrow and she is very pregnant ~ with twins ~ twin boys! Let's get this party started- again.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough...

Today is a day of celebration. It is my baby's birthday. He is the youngest of my four children and today he is twenty-three years old. Wow - how did that happen? Time does fly when you are having fun. So buddy, here is one of my gifts to you. I promise that I will try and not call you 'my baby' outloud anymore. I will just think it, quietly.

Twenty-three years old. I do have a problem with not calling you my baby any longer. I often explain my jelly belly away by saying, 'well, I just had a baby.' I don't think I can use that excuse any longer. Great, now what? "Well, my daughter is pregnant with twins and I am eating for all of them?" That seems much easier than sit-ups.

So my dear son , my wish for you is that you recognize your strengths and use them to the best of your ability. Your strong verbal skills will allow you to communicate your needs and your desires. I have watched you as you listen and reflect on the words of others. Use your ability to communicate to help you both personally and professionally. I love your sense of humor. I will never forget when we watched 'Tommy Boy' together and you laughed so hard ~ I love the sound of your belly laugh. May you always be happy and find reason to belly laugh often.

I love your spirit and determination. My brain is full of so many memories of you playing baseball, soccer and basketball. You always played to win and took each game seriously. When you were five, you played T-ball. The adults never kept score at T-ball games. It was 'just for fun.' After every game you would climb into the backseat and proceed to tell dad and I the score of the game - and all of the other stats. It was never for 'fun' - you have always played to win. Just don't forget to have fun - and don't forget to laugh that deep belly laugh on a regular basis.

And included in your gift box on this wonderful day, your twenty-third birthday, I am presenting you with confidence, respect, positive self-esteem, trust, and oodles and oodles of hugs and kisses! You are an intelligent, compassionate young man. Follow your heart, listen to your gut and make all of your dreams become reality. So, my dear son, celebrate the day and remember that there ain't no mountain high enough to keep me from you...forever and always. xo

Forever and Always

Twenty four years ago a baby boy was born on the floor of our local hospital. The reason he was born on the floor was not because his mother made it to the hospital just in the nick of time. No, she had plenty of time. It wasn't because there was no room in the hospital. No, there were plenty of beds. He was born on the floor because his mother got into an argument with her doctor. The mother had been laying quietly in her bed in the maternity ward, breathing and meditating through the pain. This was her third child and she was confident about the birthing process.

Her doctor strode quickly and abruptly into the room and told the mother that she needed to start pushing soon. "It isn't time for me to push yet," the mom replied, "I will know when it is time to push."

"I have a C-Section in less than one hour. You need to start pushing soon or I won't be able to keep on my schedule, " the male obstetrician arrogantly replied.

The experienced, indignant mom, who was now in the throes of intense labor, propped herself up in the bed. In a voice straight from the movie 'The Exorcist', she screeched at the male doctor, "Who do you think you are to tell me when to start pushing? I will know when it is time to push. Leave Me ALONE!"

A nurse appeared out of nowhere and suggested to the doctor that he leave the room since the mom was now extremely agitated. In the meantime the mom slid out of her bed and began to pace around the room. Her eyes had begun to glaze over and sweat beads were running off her brow. As she paced around, the pain intensified. Breathe, pant,pant, breathe, SCREAM.

The mom sat down on the floor. The nurse and the dad ran over to her, coaxing, bribing her to please get back on the bed. She stared at them, trying to determine who they were. She had lost her sense of reality and all dignity. She laid down on the hard tile floor and pressed her cheek on the coolness. The relief was welcome but temporary. Because now it was time to PUSH.
There was no time to move Mom back up onto the bed - the baby was coming -NOW.

And that is how my third child, my Velcro Boy, arrived into this world. Over the past few weeks I have been reflecting about him, his arrival and his life. I have been walking down memory lane thinking about how he has changed my life, how he has brightened my days, how much he has taught me. I have poured over the hundreds of photos, smiling as I think about the adventures we have shared, the laughs, the conversations, the debates and the challenges. I respect his quest for knowledge, his inquisitive mind, his unending questions and his incredible Tigger-like energy. He is lovable, huggable, intelligient and extremely hard working. He has a good heart and I love him - always have, always will. And on Saturday he is getting married. On Saturday, I will watch him through my happy tears as he marries his true love. She is a wonderful woman and I truly believe that they will share a wonderful life together.

My wish for this young couple is that they will continue to fill their lives with love, laughter, hugs, kisses, smiles, respect, humor, conversations, debates, understanding, honesty, trust, adventures, risk taking, romance, comfort, compassion, silliness and lots more love. And I hope that Velcro Boy knows that I will love him ~forever and always.

Here are a few photos of my Velcro Boy which show his true colors! And now I must go and fill my pocketbook with tissues...I have a wedding to attend.