family – Page 10

Friday the Thirteenth

Dave posted his version of this story (in a wonderfully succinct yet emotional way), so I can luckily edit mine back a bit…ha, right. There are parts that I just don’t want to forget; there are others I forgot the moment they happened that he probably included. Here’s my version, mostly so that I can look back in a week, a month, years, and remind myself of our luck and happiness.

I completely jinxed myself. In a major way. First, I was mentally celebrating Hadley’s 14-month “birthday” (even posting it on Facebook, which is big for me lately), joking that Friday the 13th isn’t unlucky since he was born on the superstitious day — and what a joy he’s been since. Plus, the prior Wednesday, I wrote that I’d try to write some lighter blog posts, and Friday I followed through. Then, in a very real way, all hell broke loose.

We awoke on Friday to find that Hadley had a low-grade temperature. He was relatively normal, but still tired (since I often get him up at 6:45 to rush off with Daddy by 7am), but a) it was too late for me to call in to work (and my schedule this year has yet to be re-printed, so it would’ve been tough to provide sub plans, even emergency ones), b) he was going to have a day alone with his grandma, so he was going to have one-on-one care, and c) it could’ve been teething for all we knew, although his little cousin had had what seemed to be a virus earlier in the week which consisted of about a day or two of sluggishness and fever that safely ran its course. All signs pointed to being safe to head to work.

Since Dave was going to be promoting his online comic series at a local convention all weekend, I headed off to Utica to pick the little man up after work. I had received a few updates throughout the day, and was asked if he should have some more Tylenol before I picked him up. I wish I had answered sooner rather than finally getting to the text and saying he could wait until I got there. We can’t say that would’ve helped the situation or not, though, but regardless…hindsight is painful.

Something felt wrong as I drove. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it the high-stress workweek I had just completed? Was it a change in the weather? My nerves were up, and I must admit they haven’t totally let up yet.

When I arrived, I found a concerned grandmother holding the little man, clearly sluggish and seemingly watching TV. She mentioned that he had been shivering, but had recently had a strange shake, and that we might want to take him to urgent care that evening. Then things took a sudden downward spiral.

We gave him some children’s Tylenol (a natural version) but I noticed that he wasn’t sucking on the syringe the way he usually does. In fact, he was hardly moving, and he hadn’t responded to me once (very, very rare for suddenly having a parent arrive). We both agreed I should call his pediatrician. After running to the car to get my phone and finally calling, they agreed that we should take him to the hospital. During that time, he grew worse, clearly in the middle of a seizure.

Donna drove my car while my tremoring voice constantly assured my now vomiting little baby that everything would be alright. I was breathless. He wasn’t acting violently in his carseat; the Tylenol and what appeared to be drool and bile oozed from his mouth, his eyes glassed over and almost closed, his body both stiff and limp simultaneously. The hospital, only a handful of blocks from my mother-in-law’s home, showed itself before us and I ran in what felt like slow motion into the ER (nearly knocking over a man pushing a walker), hardly stopping to talk to the staff. Thinking back, I felt he was already brain dead in the car. I felt we were losing him. That fear still hasn’t left my gut, although he’s with us, able to eat, to play, to move again.

The ER staff was absolutely incredible, the best medical technicians I have ever seen in my life. They insisted that things would be fine, and while I trusted them, I didn’t believe them. Normally, I trust medical personnel (whether I should or not) and put my faith in their hands, but their actions and tones of voice indicated that they were highly concerned. I didn’t leave his side, feeling as if I had absolutely zero control over what was happening…and I didn’t. None of us did.

His fever hadn’t gotten that high, maybe 103 at the most. Babies can hit 105 or so commonly (although it’s not a good thing), but I was later reminded that we have a few family members who naturally run a low temp, so there’s a chance that the 102-point-whatever that he reached might have been his “high”.

About 45 minutes to an hour after arriving, which felt more like 10 minutes, he started seizing again, his eyes rolling and his body shaking, which concerned the (AWESOME!!!!!) doctor since his temperature at that point was below 100. We later figured that he had simply spiked too much, but he was honest with us that it was rare for a child with “no fever” (practically no fever, at least) to seize, so this was the point that his father and I had to decide how much testing we needed to do. (Dave had come straight to the hospital, as did his father.) His brain might have damage. It could be meningitis. It could be something else we were completely unaware of.

I wanted to sing to him more than anything on Earth, to talk to him with a calm demeanor but my body wouldn’t allow me to. I whispered in his ear and kissed his face, but I’m not sure anything I said made sense. I was in shock. I was starving, I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t move from Trauma 2. At times, I held him, my limp little doll, receiving no indication that he knew I had him. For the first time, there was nothing my mother’s love could do to fix the situation. I ached from the numbness. I would have rather died in that moment than to see him lost.

We made a fast decision to do a spinal tap to determine if it was meningitis. I looked into the doctor’s eyes, which were anxious but kind, and I nervously told him that I trusted him. We shared an unspoken awareness and respect in that moment. Hadley was stable (albeit still unresponsive), so we were taken to a quiet room while they did the procedure, picking my sister up at the door along the way. She later told me that she wanted to throw up or pass out when she saw the looks on our faces; we all looked like we had already lost him, apparently. I think we all were in serious shock.

After 15 years…minutes…we were led back and I held him, his pale body in nothing but a diaper with oxygen and IV tubes wrapping us up together. I rocked him subconsciously as the doctor said that it seemed we were clear for meningitis. It was discussed that if the seizures continued or they couldn’t determine cause that we would be heading to Syracuse (the best place in the area for a sick child, but dauntingly terrifying for us to be an hour from home…there are worse things, though, and I was glad they were willing to hand his case over if need be), during which a family tiff arose over whether we’d use an ambulance or helicopter. The doctor, Dave and I agreed that an ambulance would be safest and simplest (not to mention cheapest) and I had to silently but stalwartly put my foot down; we’re the parents, we make the decisions. Luckily, everyone understood; besides, I said, it might not even come to that. Part of me wished we could be alone with our son; another part of me was happy to be surrounded by support.

The next decision was whether or not to expose the little guy’s brain to the radiation of a CAT scan to determine whether there was any brain damage. The irony of all the little choices we make to make our little boy as healthy as we can, every organic cheese stick or homemade whole wheat muffin, hit me hard. One in 5,000 chance of developing a tumor; not a huge risk, but not a small one. After some conversation amongst the family (my mother had also arrived, thank God, looking just as hopeless as I felt), though, and lots of mental flip-flops, I had already decided. For the most part, I had been quiet. Shock, fear, and hopelessness will do that. But, I needed to know for the future if every twitch or strange behavior (which may or may not be a normal reaction of a young child) was actually due to a seizure he had when he was 14 months. I had to know.

I held him on a gurney as Dave and I were ushered to radiation. Along the way, we passed a sweet family with an infant and a child just older than Hadley. I couldn’t help but look at them with tear-filled eyes and a half-smile, silently telling them to hug their kids a little tighter at bedtime, then hang my head. Watching his little body lie in that huge machine as his perfect little brain appeared piece-by-piece in a blue image on a screen, I immediately knew he was okay. I was starting to feel more hopeful, but still couldn’t breathe.

The anti-seizure medication wore off as time went on, and while he wasn’t smiling or normal in the slightest, seeing his droopy eyes start to work again was encouraging. Still, I couldn’t breathe fully, or think much, or allow myself to let my guard down. I figure it’s probably how a mama out in the wilderness feels after a close-call attack from a predator; it’s a relief, but they must still be on high-alert…constantly.

Dave’s parents arrived with mountains of food for us, my mother had arrived at some point, and the nurses said that we could try some apple juice with the baby since he needed fluids (although he also had the IV); we later found out that the small pouch of food and fluids he downed was a no-no since there was a higher chance of asphyxiation during the night if he had another seizure or anymore vomiting. Dave decided to take his car home with his dad (to have a ride back) and to grab necessities for us and feed the cats. As my sister, and later my mother left, I could see that they were still concerned. We clearly weren’t out of the woods and the night ahead was sure to be difficult.

Still on a gurney, the baby and I, along with Donna (my partner in tragedy, at this point) were brought to Room 357, which housed a cage-like bed for Hadley and a smaller-than-a-twin hospital bed which Dave and I ended up sharing for the night. I don’t remember whether I held the baby after settling in or if he went into his “cage” (exhausted and still under the effects of medication), but I chatted with Donna until Dave came, starting to feel as if everything might just be okay. My heart was still in my throat that the night could prove terrifying.

The baby received a regimen of painkillers/fever reducers throughout the night. The rest is a blur — about 2 hours of sleep for each parent, some fussiness but general exhaustion from the baby, a rebellious breastfeeding at 3am (I know his hungry cries (obviously), and I also knew I wasn’t going to be sleeping the rest of the night so if there were issues with seizing and choking, I’d catch it immediately), lots of IV bag changing, chest listening and hiney temp checks (which was getting sorer and sorer since a bout with diarrhea had started). The more aware he became, the more pulling-out of his nasal oxygen tube he did, clearly frustrated, himself. His temperature was still fluctuating, but not higher than 102 (generally between upper 99s and 101s.

When morning broke, his oxygen was checked and deemed fine; only the IV left to go. It was also decided to try some food, of which he ate an entire pancake, yogurt (ugh, with corn syrup), at least 1/2 a banana, some juice and milk. Kinda usual for him. He still didn’t look at all like himself, but his energy grew and he became fidgety without being able to toddle around or play much.

A doctor finally came and Hadley’s mood was pretty cheery by this point. His fever had yet to break (still fluctuating between upper 90s and lower 100s) but the doctor thought that his condition was good enough to go home. At this point, we were confident that we could handle it since he was acting more like his old self.

Over the few hours that it took to write up our release papers, however, he started to show signs of sluggishness like the day before, and his fever hit the 102 area. Again, this doesn’t seem very high for a baby, but with a usually low resting temp this was discouraging. (I also wish the doctors took this into account more, but it is what it is.) We let the head nurse know of our concerns about heading home and found out that, because the doctor had already signed off, we could stay but our insurance probably wouldn’t cover it. Eep.

We called our doctor’s office (since they doctor through another hospital). We called my mother. We called a friend who just happens to be a patient advocate. Anxiously, we finally decided just to bring him home and see what we could do for him, sure to ask exactly what to do if he had another seizure.

Within 45 minutes of returning home, the baby was still “sick looking” but acting a lot better and had a much lower fever. We slept on his floor that night, a sleeping bag unzipped, blankets and pillows piled, a cool mist humidifier flowing. The cats slept closely, clearly concerned about our little family.

Things improved, although his temp still fluctuated, and we both decided to stay home Monday with him. We cuddled and hit him with the BRAT(TY) diet (for his diarrhea), and slept alongside his crib again Sunday night. Monday, we visited his doctor to determine if we were doing what we should be.

Still giving pain/fever reducing medications on an alternating schedule, he has since maintained a lower temperature but developed the sniffles and a croup-like cough. And, of course, Mommy has, too. The lack of sleep, general worry over him and what not left me open for that, I figure. I ended up taking an entire week off from work, between taking care of him early in the week and coming down with the nasties myself the rest of the week.

It was the epitome of a roller coaster weekend, and we both left it with a very changed life perspective. After experiencing some scary local events earlier this year, I can still say that this was the most terrifying moment either of us have endured to this point in our lives.

That being said, we’re no fools. We know that febrile seizures are common — like, one in every 25 kids common (and 1/3 of those that experience them will have more). We’ve heard from friends (um, and even strangers) whose kids or grandkids or niece’s child or (you get the point) have had them. In some ways, it’s encouraging and humbling to know we’re not the only people on Earth (or even on our block) to go through this. We’re not special, of course, and we know it. I’d like to call it the Febrile Seizure Club if it comes to that.

But that doesn’t diminish how frightening the experience was for us or anyone else present, or what it taught us about life, its preciousness, and even the importance of embracing the moment. So, thanks for indulging me in getting our story out there. We’re grateful for the opportunity.

Speechless

For once in my life, I find myself devoid of words to explain what’s happening. Let’s just say our family’s been experiencing a bout of illness (which even landed us in the ER last Friday), so I’m taking a little time away. I’m also working on a post about that scary turn, but need my head a bit clearer before hitting “publish.”

Thanks for your patience. You’re so kind. 😉 (“The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That” reference FTW!)

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Side note: Doesn’t this guy look like Matthew from Downton Abbey?
(May he rest in peace.)

Framed

I know that I’ve been doing some pretty heady posts lately (I try to maintain a balance…really, there’s a rhyme to my reasoning!), but I felt too strongly not to write something. I promise I’ll do some fun, fluffy pieces soon. 🙂 We all need a bit of mental neutrality now and then.

This past weekend, we made a quick family trip to buy frames. Dave is excited to add some pictures to his new office, as well as get the chance to price out a framing option for his favorite Grandma Moses print. While we were at it, I decided to switch out the old, cheap, too-traditional frame for one of my favorite possessions; my dad’s photograph.

The picture was taken, as I have been told (and memory may or may not be an accurate thing; that happens a lot for me when it comes to my father), the morning that he returned to work after another round of cancer treatment. By the afternoon, he called home telling Mom that he had found another lump. It was only a matter of time before he was gone.

The original copy of this picture rotated throughout our childhood home as a plain, silent shrine. We were painfully aware that he was gone, but hardly spoke of it. So, there he sat. The one gentle reminder with a Mona Lisa smile and just enough youthfulness to make it burn a little more.

Over the years, I happened upon other photographs, mostly old family candids, that helped tell me a story of the man I hardly knew. Partly mischievous, partly serious, always so handsome. I carried one of the copies of his senior picture in my wallet as a teenager, even going so far as to tape it in my locker alongside a bittersweet shot of my sister and I sitting alongside him in “his chair,” all in sweats, an enormous fruit basket in the foreground. Looking back, I realized how gray and gaunt he looked, and that it was just about the time he left for the hospital (which I faintly remember), never to return.

But, still, this photo was quite literally his personification.

I don’t quite remember when, but my mother decided to have prints made and framed. Four; one for each of us. I’m sure she was apprehensive, worrying that we would all hate the reminder (much like when we received a very kind Christmas gift of all the old McCoy home movie footage on tape; there were plenty of tears that holiday season, but it was nice to see him in motion with our aunts and uncles, in living color). But, we were all deeply grateful to have our own piece of him.

That copy, in a couple of different Dollar Store frames over the years, has followed me to college and back, to my first apartment, to my first house; through family fights and deaths and marriages and babies. No matter my variance in moods or ups-and-downs with depression, it was a stalwart on-looker who always helped to pull me up by my boot straps. Not until I reflect on it now do I realize that, yes, Dad really did have an influence in my life over the years, though it was a very private, quiet one. I may not have any recollection of his personality or his voice or his opinions and views, but he has been there for me.

Of all my possessions, big and small, this image is the one thing that I would grab in a storm or fire or nuclear attack. (This, of course, does not include living things, which are actually family and not “possessions.” Child and cats included. ;-)) There are other important things that I’d like to grab — namely, my Katharine Hepburn autograph — but if I couldn’t, Dad would come.

So, as I stood before a row of frames in all their splendor, some plain and dignified, some with enough traditional curlicues for royalty, I found myself overwhelmed and fighting back tears. This frame needed to represent him, because the picture IS him. I finally landed on a couple of wooden options; one with dozens of rustic-looking coconut shell inserts and, finally, this one —

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Crappy cell picture. In crappy lighting.
Win-win.

It’s plain. It’s a bit rustic. It has structure. It reminded me of Dad’s younger days farming his family’s land, his love of sports, and what I’ve heard about his methodically perfect way of doing projects (when he finally buckled down to do them). The frame just felt like “him”, or at least as much as my basic shy-of-4-year-old memory could ascertain.

It’s good to know he’ll be “around” for Hadley to know, even in his minute way.

Proud

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Courtesy Corbis Images

I couldn’t be more ecstatic to announce here for all the world to see (all 3 of you who haven’t yet heard! ;-)) that my husband will be making a huge career shift from the wacky world o’ news to the calmer realm of P.R. in his new role in the SUNY Institute of Technology Public Affairs office tomorrow! It has been a roller coaster of emotions, from when he first considered applying, through the interview process, to his being offered and accepting the job and, finally, his last day at his previous job.

See, the emotions stem from several places. He moved his way up at the station from being the guy who posts stories to the web to the guy who assigns stories and works as the assistant news director to a full-blown anchor (mind you, while still wearing all of those other hats). As have a few others, I see that he has given not just the six very long years to the place, but he has had years shaved off the end of his life with the stress that has accrued. It has been challenging, to say the least, to watch the once vivacious man I knew beaten down into the ball of nerves and anxiety-driven ailments. It was time for him to recapture his life. I’m happy to say, as his final workday came and passed, the responsibilities that visibly weighed his shoulders melted away and his old self seems to be reemerging.

I know that there are some bittersweet aspects to this change for him and us, and more so for many who have known him in a “local celebrity” role (one which he has always been humbled by and kindly about, but that has messed a little with his mind; I imagine it would for anyone). As with everything else, he has dealt with this change with his head held high, proud of the work he has achieved and happy about the friends he made, yet unapologetic that he will now have a much less stressful day to contend with and easier hours with which to cherish life, his family (yay!), and his creative endeavors. Plus, the college is an incredible place to work, especially with its growing opportunities in fields that will make our area and America’s future brighter. It’s practically a dream come true after all the stress he’s endured. It’s well-deserved and was hard-won.

We realize that many folks will question this change. It brings us to discuss the meaning of “success” and recognize that this holds a different meaning for everyone. While he has been exceptionally proud of the work he has done (be it his coverage of the brewery fire – our first broken date, the first time that I realized I’d be up against many more disappointments that turned into opportunities for him, and would have to learn to deal with them – the shootings in “the valley”, his daily anchoring of the noon, or those countless forgettable spots or middle-of-the-night runs to get a tornado, flood, blizzard or fire covered), being on television does not equate success.

One’s pride in one’s work and the ability to enjoy a work-life balance is what means the most to us. To others, just the idea of being on TV for thousands to see is success. There is not one right or wrong way to live life, and to each his own.

We know that it will be a tough transition and don’t expect all of our worldly problems to be answered by the change. (Nothing’s that perfect!) But, I can’t wait to see the work he’s able to do here, with the luxury of TIME to perform it properly. The wonderful thing about enduring a high-stress situation is that the simple things seem so much sweeter.

He’s already appreciating that he’ll be getting an actual daily lunch (like, taking time away from work to…y’know…eat), and, although it’s a basement area, he’ll have his own office – he’s chomping at the bit to have his own phone, to decorate, and to close the door if he needs some privacy. Even a far-off parking spot gives him happiness that he’ll get to walk on the beautiful campus everyday.

But, the biggest amenity is his time. We are beyond lucky for all the extra time (including the time he’s not busy worrying about work) that we, as a family, will get to spend with our Dorky Daddy. He was already the best father I’ve ever seen; now where only his heart was, his mind and actions will be. And all the creative ideas, be they general writing, film or theater, can now have time to percolate and find their way to reality. I’m so excited for him! Can’t you tell?

Let me just take the opportunity to say, above all else…I’m still his biggest fan. 🙂 Signing off.

There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters

Today is my big sister’s birthday. I won’t divulge her age…’cuz nobody’s happy to have that information out there for the world. (Well, maybe she is, but I won’t push it.) She’s an awesome mom and wife (um, I assume; I’m not married to her ;-)), but I know her better as an incredible sister and BIBF — built-in best friend.

I have two older brothers and Mary, and while I know I was always a bit of a nuisance to all of them growing up, and I’ve put them all on pedestals for years, Mary and I were automatically lumped together being a) closer in age to each other and b) girls. We shared EVERYTHING; a room (and bed when we were younger), friends, clothes, bath time (again, when we were younger), oftentimes presents, and the less concrete; tiny issues that seemed so big, giggles ’til one of us fell asleep (usually her), and secrets.

After Mary went away to college, leaving me an only child for the first time EVER, our relationship changed. I was suddenly less of an annoyance. We’d receive homesick calls and my mother would be so excited to hear her voice…only to grow disappointed and hand the phone over to me. I was suddenly an equal rather than a buzzing mosquito, and it was wonderful. Through bumps in the road and issues big and small, our friendship has remained. As other longtime friends fell out of our lives, we still found that we could call or shoot a lengthy email divulging whatever gripe or real concern we had with the world without fear of judgment or condemnation…or, worse, losing the friendship.

The funny thing? We’re not that much alike. Mary’s the sensible one; I’ve always been less than rational (compared to some, this might not be true, but in our family it’s simply how it is). She’s relatively reserved unless prodded; I’m generally boisterous to a fault. She’s business-minded; I’m scattered and lack a head for numbers. She’s level-headed; I romanticize things and get over-emotional. Yet, we work. It works.

Why am I telling you about her? Well…for one thing, to embarrass her. Betchya it’s working. 😉 But, more importantly, to not only celebrate Mary and her turning another year older, but to celebrate all that Mary has done for me. See, I wouldn’t have the life I have right now if it wasn’t for Mary. Not only did she help discipline me, teach me how to deal inter-personally with others, and keep an eye on me in my formative years (among about a million other little things), but I literally wouldn’t have the life that surrounds me at this very moment if not for a few key steps that SHE made. It brings tears to my eyes to consider it, and how fate works.

See, way back in what seems to be a different lifetime for all of us, Mary was looking for a new outlet for creativity. Something that she could enjoy as a hobby. Being a relatively quiet, shy person, what happened next astounds me still. Mary saw an ad in the paper mentioning an open dinner meeting at the Ilion Little Theater Club to welcome new members and anyone interested in becoming a member…and, all alone, knowing not a soul, she showed up. So. Not. Mary. Hell, I don’t think I could’ve done it.

She learned a bit about the place and started her foray by helping backstage…then taking a role in a musical (I still love that part…a young orphaned archaeologist with dirt on her face)…then in an awesome comedy that our grandmother would’ve been proud of (in which I distinctly remember her borrowing a pair of my “Katharine Hepburn pants” — she was an outgoing, modern American married to a traditional British vicar). I loved going to see her in the shows and enjoyed visiting the place. I was just downright proud and happy for her.

She warm-heartedly allowed me to (just like the old days) tag along with her to a dinner meeting or two to learn more about the place, myself. I was fascinated by it, but never thought I’d get deeply involved. It was Mary’s thing and I didn’t want to take it from her.

But, then, the call came. A first-time director (and, at the time, the president of the club) knew that Mary wasn’t interested in a part, but wondered if I’d take a crack at it. It was a long-shot considering that I hadn’t acted since high school, but I took it and the rest is history.

I remember calling Mary immediately to find out if it was okay (I hadn’t said “yes” yet) and she seemed almost relieved that I was willing to take the role. Since then, I’ve come to feel the same way when I’ve helped a director find someone to fill a role I was unable to perform (usually due to time constraints…or just hating the part), but at the time I didn’t want her to feel like I was taking over HER hobby; once again nudging into her life just as I had tagged along on her dates in high school. (Yes, I did that. Thank God she married her high school sweetheart and we can still laugh about it today.)

Yet, Mary was gracious and almost grateful that we had a common bond to share. We even ended up doing a couple of shows together.

But here’s how this whole thing changed “the course of human events”: I met my husband at the theater. The first show we did together on Ilion’s stage (there was a prior show we worked on together, but didn’t have any lines or interactions with each other and it was an “on the road” production) was a musical called “1940s Radio Hour”. Dave was talked into joining our cast by a co-worker/friend. We were friendly, but far from friends or even “more than friends” back then. I was generally happiest that Mary and I finally got to joke off of each other and even sing together quite a lot (and in period ’40s costumes, at that!).

A couple of shows later and I found myself doing a cockney accent as a hotel maid in “Perfect Wedding”. It was a much smaller cast, and Mary wasn’t in this one, so we found ourselves growing much friendlier during rehearsals. I think I appreciated the dedication Dave had to the role and his perfectionism about getting it right; I’m pretty sure he liked the same thing about me. (If you’re gonna do an accent, DO THE DAMN ACCENT! Am I right or am I right?) We just got along. By the end of the run, we both found ourselves single and the rest is, as they say, history.

The theater is our family history. From there, our first date was at a local Broadway-caliber show, we saw a few Broadway shows (and other area theater shows) over the years, and even got engaged in NYC. The evening we found out we were having Hadley was Halloween almost two years ago — and we had to immediately head to the theater to rehearse “Arsenic and Old Lace”. (Side note: It’s one of Dave’s FAVORITES, so now we can say that Hadley made his debut onstage with us. Although technically that would’ve been gross. Ew.) Now, THAT was a lesson in acting, keeping that little piece of news to ourselves.

Whatchya hidin’ in there? A seeeecret?

Thank goodness for first trimesters…

Some of my favorite memories at the theater are of sharing moments with family. Mary, whom if not for a horrific bout of tendinitis might have a career as a musician or music teacher today, has performed the role of musical director many a time. When we did “A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum” a few years back, it was the first huge musical role of its kind that Dave had had (although he did some kickass musical reviews in high school that I only wish had been videotaped), and her patience and kindness working with him was one of the things that gave him the confidence to get up there and put aside his misgivings; he proved that, yes, he had/has musical talent.

When Dave made his directorial debut, he chose “Clue! The Musical” and ripped it to shreds; I should say, he made it GOOD. It wouldn’t have been high on many lists of favorites if Mary hadn’t led the way musically. That one was, by far, a family affair. I played Miss Scarlet, did choreography and picked up slack wherever Dave needed me to. I’d done stuff like this for other shows, but this time was different. We were doing it as a familial team. Oh, and I almost forgot — Dave had to make a cameo once or twice, and Mary’s husband, John, played a superb Paul McCartney (just kidding; he was a back-up dancer/one of many husbands to Mrs. Peacock).

At any given time, we three served on the theater’s board, too. That’s a lesson in itself!

And, in the process of it all and as time tends to allow, we’ve picked up a second family. Sure, it’s one that has its share of oddballs (I may be one of them) and moody personalities (again…me?), but for those who have fallen in love with theater in the tiny one-room dressing room and equally tiny stage (what scene change?!), through tripped power switches and square-headed screws vs. Philips head screws and paint parties with donuts…the ILT family is to thank for it. And maybe George, our resident ghost, has a little hand in it, too. (No, we’re not chatting with the ghost in this picture.)

So, quite literally, I owe the family that is currently dozing around me as I type this to Mary first, and the theater second. That’s huge. I’m humbly grateful. And, yes, we will return…some day. When Hadley’s old enough to play independently backstage without getting into the tools.And when he can get a walk-on and actually walk…on.

A very happy *mumble mumble* birthday to my sister, my best friend, my second mother, my unknowing matchmaker, Mary. Thank you for being such a huge part of my life, for giving me an awesome brother and niece, and for being the proudest aunt ever. Lots of love and I’m sorry if this post was too much about me than you; it got away from me! 😉

Grandma’s Gold

I’ve been converted. Not in that way. (I’m sure we’re a lost cause. Ha! Kidding.) I’m talking metallics.

See, I’ve always been a silver-toned girl. What little jewelry I own is silver. My wedding band and ring are white gold. And I still love silver in its own classy way.

However, with the resurgence of gold in decor and fashion, I’ve found myself wearing some antiqued, brassy gold necklaces (with awesome bright color accents)…brass studs on my favorite sandals…and swooning over blogs featuring furniture “dipped” in gold. See? I’m a convert.

So, when we were divying up the contents of my grandfather and deceased grandmother‘s house last fall, I was ecstatic to receive their hand-me-down floor lamp. We had been using a wedding gift lamp from Target which we love…

…but with a toddler and an uneven carpeted floor, it wasn’t practical. We’re keeping it for a future house and more grown-up kids, but when this lamp came along, I fell in love.

She’s not perfect, but she’s twice my age, so what can I expect?

Besides, to think about all she’s seen in the Cunningham house over the years brings so much joy in my heart. It wasn’t put into storage or sold off or donated to someone who didn’t have an underlying appreciation for its history; it would’ve been just one more piece of junk that would get thrown to the curb when a better “new” model came along.

There’s a tiny amount of bittersweetness to the lamp, considering that Grandma was home 85% of the time. Grandpa’s money might have paid for the lamp, but it was hers. It lit her letter-writing, her smoke-filled card games, her lengthy gossipy phone calls. The birthday parties, the Fourth of July’s, the Father’s Days — all the special times, and the not-so-special times, that our family matriarch orchestrated.

But, as with most things in life, it’s easy to take a little sourness when the rest is so sweet. The fact that it’s in line with the direction of current trends makes it even sweeter.

Summatime Update

Back at the end of June, I shared a list of my summer plans. I’m pleased with a buttload of what we’ve been able to do; I’m a tad disappointed (or even downright bummed) that a few, I won’t be able to do. At. All. Here’s the updated list:

1. I had already started this undertaking when I posted the list, and guess what! Still not done. Of course. I had done some clothing purging, but have more to do. I have yet to touch our coat closet. I did, however, tackle the toy situation, which in itself feels like a huge victory. But, y’know how pregnant ladies (sometimes) go through their period of nesting? Once the cooler autumn weather hits, I’ll start attacking this. Promise! And I’ll share my endeavors. (Oh, you lucky, lucky people, you.)

2. Bam! Done!! Hadley and I went for some time last week (with a break in the middle of the week, just to avoid meltdowns) to a camp my mom and stepdad rented for the whole family to use. It. Was. Awesome. I needed that. And Hadman even had fun! (I mean, what says summer like this picture?!)

3. *sigh* Okay. The Adirondack Museum trip didn’t happen. I’ll get into the why’s at a later date, but the plans that we had made to hit it up as a family fell through. And I wasn’t about to do that without my man; he’s never been. Eh, ya win some, ya lose some. We are planning to visit the Carle VERY soon. We’re ecstatic that the munchkin will be able to see the Mo Willems exhibit. I know he’s just over one year old, but he’s a F-A-N of all things Mo. He knows his books by illustration and picks them every single story time. We’re hoping that the exhibit’s a hit with him. I know it will be for us!

4. Yeah, I suck at keeping up with the “work” part of summer. I suck. We bought a relatively eco-friendly spray that I still need to use to clean OFF the front porch (and siding on the house). I still hope to at least clean stuff up, but I’m not sure if the paint job will happen this month or not. I’m not going to beat myself up, though.

5. See camping trip above. Sand. Done. 😉 Two birds, one stone!! (Okay, wait. Horrible metaphor. I hit what we’ve deemed to be a woodpecker on my way back up to camp and still feel like a murderer over it.)

6. Make that one “grill”. We have grilled far more than last year, but not everyday…or even once a week. A handful of times. But s’all good. Here’s my infamous grilled pizza recipe if you’re feeling like cookin’ outside.

7. The asterisk means I’m still workin’ on it, but I have at least trimmed and gotten the rest of my tile down (sans the around-the-toilet stuff, since we’ve gotta move that first) and caulked around the tub. My next step is priming and painting the base moulding that we’re reusing. (It’s still poop brown.) It’s gettin’ there!

8. Just like grilling, we’ve done SOME of this. Not everyday, but it’s been nice to get out when we feel like it. We took a few while at camp, and have done a few throughout the summer (even back for my “day in the life” post).

9. It’s in the works. I always have two main reasons that I LURVE visiting Massachusetts; the first is to see some awesome friends (yay, we’ll be able to do this!!) and the second is to hit up Concord (boo, we won’t be able to do this). But, we’re lucky we’ll be able to go at all. Oh, and we’ll be doing some fall shopping (not saying the dreaded “BTS” words out loud) at the outlets, so that’s a cool perk, too. Even Dave is in need of stuff, so it’ll be a family affair.

10. My garden this year has been a bit of a dud. I just got it planted way too late, I guess. I need to be a better planner. BUT, my tomatoes are going like gangbusters! They’re all tiny ones, and many are splitting (I think we’ve got a blight goin’ on), but the good ones I’m hoping to make a nice balsamic salad for the hubs with. So, if I do, I’ll share the recipe. 😉 Oh, and we also learned that the Hadman is totally into the ‘maters. I’m not pushing my prejudice on the kid (obviously; I hate them!!!), and I think it’s awesome that he likes them.

11. Thank you, camp!!! I shared with with Hadley and it. Was. Awesome.

12. Yay!! A few Sundays ago, Daddy, Hadley and I checked out the Utica Zoo. Dave and I went as kids, and it’s perfectly sized for a baby; not too big but just big enough to entertain. He was enamored with the zebras (and they were enamored with him), but all the animals were interesting for him. And apparently they all say “oof.” Even the snakes. (One totally wanted to eat my baby. Back off, scaley!!!)

13. Dave’s done this, I’ve done this, we’re both going to see our Massy friends and I’m working on a catch-up with another buddy this week. We’re gettin’ ‘er done.

14. *deep sigh* I’ve done this. And done it again. And still again. It’s weird; I’ve had waves of calmness followed by thrusts of anxiety-driven headaches. I guess I always get that way when September starts rolling around. But, yeah, I’m working on maintaining the calm. Also depends on Hadley’s level of crazy.

15. I guess I’ve technically accomplished this. I’ve read a few magazines (I lean towards “Real Simple” and hand-me-down “This Old House” mags, with the occasional Eating Well or DIY/house ones thrown in), but have re-started Walden and this rad short compilation of essays and papers on Transcendentalism. What? That’s my idea of a good time.

Friday the Thirteenth - image blogger-image--946070622 on https://megactsout.com

16. I’m actually following my inspiration on this one. Some days I feel like working on my non-fiction piece, others I feel like working on a *top secret* sumpin’ sumpin’ I’m passionate about…so the children’s books (yes, I said “books”) have fallen to the wayside. I’m not one of those “write about something if I’m not in the mood” types of people. Maybe if I assigned it to myself, I’d be better at it. But, yeah, by Christmastime I’m hoping to have finally at least flushed out one of these.

17. Been there, done that! Haven’t gotten to our local one as much as I’d like (I’d say once or twice?) but we’ve been to the Oneida County Public Market a few times.

18. Done and done. Post forthcoming!

19. Depending on the day and my little man’s mood, we’ve achieved this. If he’s cranky, the pokey little grass blades will annoy the hell out of him. If he’s in “adventure mode”, he doesn’t think twice about it. The fact that we got him to play in the sand (even while wet and a tad cool) was a miracle.

So, that’s where we are! We’ve done some stuff beyond the list, but seeing how many we have crossed off makes me feel purdy darn good.

What about you guys? Leave a comment! How has Summer 2013 gone for you?? I know it’s been rough for many of my local friends, but let’s think about the happy stuff. Anything fun to share? Have you basked in some sunshine? Discovered a new part of your town? Do tell!

Summatime, Summatime, Sum-Sum-Summatime

After a full weekend o’ fun, here we are with our first true day of summer vacation upon us. Quite awhile ago, I deemed today to be a lazy day — the only goal is to schlep Hadley over to our local farmers’ market, weather permitting. That’s. It. Hang out in bed watching Daniel Tiger? Take super long naps if Hadley wants? (Mama included.) Get zero work done around the house?

We’ll see if I actually allow it to be a lazy day or not. Only time will tell!

Friday, I posted this run-down of my summer plans —

Isn’t she purdy? I’m back with an explanation to the fun. ‘Cuz, y’know… I’m like that. Oh, and the more I think about it, there are about half a dozen extras to throw on there, but I’ll leave it with the original 19 for now. The longer the list, the more pressure (read: less fun!) you’ve got. So, here we go! (Those not listed are kind of self-explanatory.)

1. I’ve already started some of this. I got home Friday and went about in a whirlwind (until I sucked a sock up the vacuum’s tube. Way to stop a girl in her tracks, damn dust bunny sock!!) Storing clothes that don’t fit the baby or myself (and starting a bag to donate), cutting back on the number of bottles we have that aren’t being used…stuff like that. A big goal is the office, since that’s the place where some of my other goals will come to fruition, and Dave deserves a clear space to create a clear mind.

2. My mom has rented a camp for a week this summer, and I’m ecstatic about it. Different family members will be there any given day, and we may or may not stay for numerous days — but it’s close enough to home so that one of us can stop in with laundry and to check on the cats. I am SO ready to get my Thoreau on!

3. Mom has mentioned that, while camping, she’d like to go up to the Adirondack Museum, which is a place that she and I would spend ALL of our time, if possible. I’m ecstatic to get Dave there (he’s never been!) and that it’s baby stroller friendly. There is SOOOOO much to see and do, and several buildings set up by theme (a building about occupations in the Adirondacks, another area on Native Americans, still another on boats…that sounds lame, but it’s SO COOL!), PLUS if Hadman gets cranky, it’s easy to shuffle him out to the pathways and picnicking areas.

The Eric Carle Museum is another “must” since we’re looking to take a quick overnight trip to Massachusetts at some point. We’re excited to go just to see the place and what it’s all about (I mean…it’s Eric Carle!!), but we’re particularly stoked since they’ve got lots of Mo Willems activities and an exhibit of his artwork happening this summer. Considering he’s our “family author/illustrator”, it’s a given. We. Must. Go.

Ah, and I didn’t mention it here, but our local museum (I’m not sure if it’s considered a cultural center or what…I know I do), Munson Williams Proctor Arts Institute has an Andy Warhol exhibit all summer. Seriously, in Utica. While this one’s mostly for Mommy and Daddy, I’d really like to see if Hadley has any reaction to the brightly-colored images and pop art. Heck, he goes NUTS for certain book illustrations. We shall see!

4. BO-RIIIIIING. But I’ll probably blog about it if I do it. You lucky, lucky people.

5. Gotta stick my feet in some sand. It’s been a LONG while. Plus, I know the PERFECT place to bring a little one. Can’t wait to see how it goes and share!

6. I don’t think we cracked the thing open once last year. (Dave says we did, but I’m not buying it.) And now that he’s decided to try to find a CSA (that might, just might accept latecomers) it’ll be awesome to have veggies to grill. And it isn’t summer without a grilled pizza, folks.

7. Slowly, slowly, said the Sloth. That’s my new nickname.

8. Not much to add.

9. We’ve got some buddies in Mass who are expecting, and still others that we just haven’t caught up with. Honestly, we miss them, like, everyday. It’s like being away from family. And, the last time we saw them was when Dave went out for a conference — Hadley and I missed out! So, I’ve got withdrawal.

To top that off, I’m hoping to drag my guys further eastward (not all the way to Boston — not this year, at least) to hit up my version of “the happiest place on Earth” — Concord. *happy sigh*

10. Garden + Potted Herbs + Possible CSA Purchase = New Recipes

11. Probably not organic. We shall deal. Hand-in-hand with this goes FIRE PIT!!! Probably whilst camping.

12. Too early to bring a baby to see wild creatures? We shall see!!

13. Getting this underway already. I had a very random, very welcome invitation to have a girlie get-together with one of Dave’s friends (which, strangely enough, is how I’ve earned myself some of the best friends…love that!) and a fire was lit. I’m not very social (those who knew me in high school may be shocked to hear that now), so I need to push my head out of my shell once in awhile.

14. Mentally. SOOOOO in need of this. Lots of self-analysis and figurin’ life out. I don’t expect to accomplish nirvana by the end of the summer, but y’know…a little every day. 😉

15. A magazine. A book. The back of a cereal box. ANYTHING. I’ve got at least four stacks next to the bed. I don’t have to read them all. Just one. Is that too much to ask?

16. Sounds nuts? Well, I’ve already started. I have at least three complete stories floating around in my head; just gotta put pen to paper. One is underway. The REAL challenge lies in the “now what?” once the story’s written. Self-illustrate? Self-publish? What next?

17. Given!

18. Woot, woot! Workin’ on it. And, didn’t I jinx myself??? Staples has been a royal PITA. Oh, well. Homey’s rollin’ wit da punches.

19. This actually means that I want to get Hadley outside this summer. Currently, he’s a tad leery of those sharp little blades of grass, even when wearing pants and sitting on a blanket. (I guess they pierce through. How dare they!) So, I’d like to get him over this, even if it’s just heading outside and playing with it more, or playing ON it more. He will hold onto loose blades that I pick up for him and seems to enjoy it. I know this won’t always be an issue, so I’m not obsessing about it. It’ll just be nice to have a kid who enjoys nature.

So, that’s generally what I’ve got in mind for summer vacation. I’m sure we’ll do more than this; heck, we may do LESS than this. Either way, it’ll all be about enjoying life as a family. So, even if you don’t have a vacation (or if your vacation will only last a few days), what will you be doing to enjoy the summer? Any trips? Grilling? Naming your baby after a direction?

Summer Lovin’

Psst. Not to blow the roof off the joint or anything, but…it’s summer. I’ll wait for the hooting and hollering to subside……..

Alrighty, it may not LOOK like I’m jumping up and down on my exterior (my exterior is still finishing up inventory today), and even my interior is going through the strange let-down of the usual end-of-year blahs, but let me tell you, I’ll get over that quickly. I’m ecstatic to be able to stay home — no summer school for me this year — with the little one and enjoy a slower pace.

So, while I finish cleaning up at work, allow me to share with you some of our summer plans. I’ll be back to explain them (I know they seem self-explanatory, and most of them are, but you know me…I like to elaborate!) next week.

Until then, let me know — What are your plans for the summer? Will you be slaving away, or will you have a chance to take life a little slower? Traveling at all? Getting in touch with nature? Do tell!

Let’s Get This Party Started

With officially T minus one month ’til the Hadman turns the big O-N-E, I was politely reminded by the hubs that he’d be happy to pick up the invitations at Staples while he’s out in the “big city” Friday. Oops. I had them done, just needed to do some tweaking and send them in. Thanks for the save, Dave!

I’m a big fan using the Staples online print resource since I utilized it to print the theater’s programs when I used to design them. I found that they came out professionally and timely, with no directors sweating over one of those super long staplers putting together a handful of photo-copied programs to hand to audiences as they arrived on opening night. Yeah, that was never fun. So, paying for Staples was well worth the investment.

I’ve used them for everything from ALL of our print needs for our wedding (invitations, yes, but all the little signs and labels for each table and programs that never got handed out…lots and lots and lots of printing) to baby shower invitations for my sis to the art on Hadley’s wall. It was a no-brainer to use them again.

(By the way, this is not a sponsored post. I wasn’t paid by Staples to brag about ’em. It’s kinda sad that I have to say that.)

Here’s the invitation I whipped up (sans my mom’s address and my phone number for the RSVP) with a little Pinterest inspiration…Pinspiration? Ew…

So, how much did the invites cost to send out? I scaled them to fit four to a page (cheapskate…no, really, the invitation envelopes we had on hand only fit that size, so it was serendipitous in a really lame way), so all we would need were three sheets. Ha! Three sheets to the wind. Nice.

Anyhoo, yeah, three. Since we were mostly inviting families and couples (with a few awesome exceptions), it wasn’t like we needed 22 separate invites; just one for my sis and her family, one for Dave’s bro and his wife, etc. So, twelve would work just fine.

Check it! I may still get 10% or so off, but I’d say $5.37 for very cool (if I do say so myself) invitations, including the cost of envelopes (totally free) and the fact that I chose stiffer card stock (that’s what she said), is pretty good. Add a few bucks for postage and we’re still coming in at a decent price. If I hadn’t “splurged” and had them do the cutting (way straighter than my shaky hand), it would’ve been $2 cheaper. I know. My Depression-era ancestors would be disappointed in me. *hangs head*

We’re purchasing some other stuff for this shindig, but also doing plenty hand-made options, too. Here’s a breakdown:

Purchasing:
– Pizza, beverages, and several other “some assembly required” food items to make life a tad easier (do carrot sticks count?)
– Cupcakes (but this has a sentimental pitch to it; we’re buying them from the same place that made our wedding cupcakes…so there. Neener neener.)
– A few decorative items, like birthday hats (for fun) from Target
– Gifts for the monkey, himself! 🙂

Making:
– Pom-pom decorations No. More. Wire. HANGERS!!! Only insert “BALLOONS!” for “wire hangers.”
– A pendant banner
– The birthday boy’s crown, which he’ll wear all of two seconds. Tops.
– His healthy smash cake (along with a bit of decoration)!!!

Already Have On Hand:
– This awesome thing we like to call “Pandora”…because it’s called Pandora. We listen to it on our phones all the time, so it only makes sense to use it as a bit of background music. The little one likes the Simon and Garfunkel channel, but we may switch it up to something a wee less depressing.
– A laptop (or possibly burned DVD) to show Daddy’s video for the birthday boy
– Borrowed pop-up tent thingamajiggers just in case of inclement weather. But, seriously, (sung as Streisand), DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE (party)!!!
– Cake stands. Seriously. We’ve got a million of ’em. A cute HUGE one that our friends Laurel and Jim gave us which has some really cool polka dot textures on it, a couple of antique glass ones we used for our wedding reception, etc. And while I may use them for cupcakes, it sometimes makes for some visual interest to put something less expected on them. How fancy, pizza on a cake stand! Oooohhhh, la-dee-dah!

I’m sure I’m forgetting something. I started taking some notes on my phone, but have yet to make the mother of all to-do/to-buy lists.

We’ve already had an offer or two to help with food (and anything else we may need). You can always tell your best friends when they’re as concerned about your own sanity as they are spending time with your cutey patootey. And when that best friend happens to be your sister, well, all is right with the world.

So, we’re officially in party mode (with the exception of being bogged down by inventory at work; I’ll still have a few weeks to focus solely on the shindig, though, once school’s over — I know, I’m lucky). Any suggestions for the parents?