First Twitter, now this

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It’s adorable. I keep finding my almost 50-year-old husband sitting at the computer yelling, “You’re not gonna believe who I just found!”

Dan has taken up social media. Perhaps it’s his version of a mid-life crisis. I’m not complaining — It’s way cheaper than a new car and much nicer (for me) than a young girlfriend. It started with Twitter a couple of months ago. He swears that it’s just for “real time news”, but he seems much more in the know about celebrity gossip these days. Then, over the weekend he asked me to help set him up on “The Facebook”.

I thought he was kidding. Dan’s not just been one of those people who didn’t care about “The Facebook”, he resented it. Dan’s old school. A vinyl guy who thinks that the written word (on paper, in ink) is somehow superior. He’s still offended by losing the extra space after a period and HATES that his daughter doesn’t use punctuation to complete a text message.

But, I was curious enough to see what Dan was planning, that I set up a page and showed him the basics. He dove right in. Within a couple of minutes, I could hear him from the other room – giddy as he found old friends. The sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. He poured through his friend’s pages searching for familiar names. He went from, “I’m just looking for some particular people.” to “Did you know how many people are on this thing?”

Downloading old pictures is where he is now. He started with a few family photos, but then he stumbled on some old albums. Now he’s reliving his youth, one photo at a time. Wilton days, Block Island shenanigans and college. Many of the images are not oriented properly and I did tell him that maybe he should make some albums so that he avoided taking up news feeds. “But WHO wouldn’t want to see this stuff?”

I felt like his mom yesterday when I sat down at the computer and found that his Facebook page was opened. It was like that day when I accidentally found that Anna left her iPhone at home (It’s not snooping, just checking). I looked at all the old photos – so many great memories, but there were a few pictures that made me pause. I gave Dan a call and suggested that some of the images might be a little inappropriate for a broad audience, “Dan, if you wouldn’t want Jack and Anna to see it, it’s shouldn’t be on Facebook.”

I’ve used a similar line with Anna, “If you wouldn’t want your grandparents to see it . . . “. It hasn’t always worked with Anna and I wasn’t convinced it worked for Dan, so I found myself doing a little “editing”.

When Dan got home yesterday he told me that he heard what I was saying and that there were a few pictures we was going to take down. I quickly confessed that I had already taken care of it and promised not to do it again, “Unless you start making bad choices.”

WHEN did I become this wife? If I’m not careful, he’s gonna unfriend me.

 

Love, Jess

A dead iPhone and a new goal

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Thanks to a dead iPhone, I finally have my goals set for 2016.

I only read books in the summer. I need to be in a folding chair, with sand between my toes, sun on my shoulders and the sound of the ocean in the background. I’ve tried to read at home in front of the fire, but I instantly fall asleep. And reading in bed doesn’t work for me either. The bed is for other activities — like television.

Of course I read a ton of blogs and magazines, and I never let my need for sand hold me back from the latest bestseller. When I’m not on the beach, I listen to audiobooks as I walk. It gets me and the dogs out of the house, puts steps on my fitbit, and lets me get lost in a good story. It also allows me to avoid too much thinking. I like to leave wandering thoughts for when I sit down with my journal or this blog.

This morning something horrible happened while I was out on my walk. Two miles from home, my iPhone died. I stopped in place, staring at the screen and didn’t know what to do. I thought about calling Dan to pick me up, but my iPhone WAS DEAD! Two miles takes me about 40 minutes. 40 minutes to think. I took a deep breath and decided I would take the opportunity to think about my goals for 2016.

The usual suspects came easily to mind. More walking, less drinking, getting published (my fingers have been crossed for so long that it hurts), less carryout, more kale. This list took me less then a minute. 39 minutes to think a little deeper.

It took a while, but I think the walk allowed me to come up with something. Here it is – my goal for 2016 – SLOW TIME.

I’ve spent most of my life looking forward. Looking forward to the weekend, to the next vacation, to the next paycheck. I would like to start living more in the moment. Appreciating every slow Tuesday and every quick conversation and every little hug — especially from my kids.

When Jack and Anna were babies, I felt so buried in sore boobs and laundry that I loved hearing from older woman who told me that “the years would fly by”. That sounded pretty good to me. I fantasized about the day that I could throw away the pacifiers and rid of the baby gates. Once that day arrived, I looked forward to the first day of preschool and watching the kids learn to read. That day came and went and  I was already gearing up to lose the carseats and start planning adventurous family trips.

Life, of course, didn’t follow the path exactly as expected. It wound around and filled with experiences. Not all were welcome, but I proud of where we are. Now, I find that I’m on the other side of the “years flying by” equation and I’m worried that it’s all going too fast.

I’ve got two teenage children with very different futures, but they are both speeding towards adulthood. Jack’s cord may stay closer to home, but even he will find some sort of independence. My days of raising little (big) kids is numbered.

My goal for 2016 is to learn how to slow the momentum. I think I can do this by learning to breath and taking time to appreciate more. Probably not every moment, but all the moments that don’t include poop or sassy teenage chatter (although if Jack wants to give me some sassy teenage chatter, that’s okay).

Love, Jess

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

 

46 ain’t so bad

There is nothing sexy about being 46. You’re neither young and spry or old and wise. You still need to cover your gray and squeeze into skinny jeans, but you can’t really compete with the 20-year-old crowd (or the 30-year-old crowd). You’re just middle-aged. But here I am, and I’m doing just fine.

I’m not sure when I’ll get used to the increasing amount of lines on my forehead or how my legs crack when I stand up after sitting on the floor, but I feel blessed for the life I woke up to this morning.

A gentle kiss on my cheek from my husband with a “Happy Birthday” whispered in my ear. Then my sweet Banana came tiptoeing into my room and crawled in my bed to give me a birthday hug. As she left the room, I noticed that she had slipped a note under my pillow. I would share what she wrote, but I can’t – 1. She would kill me 2. It’s mine and I don’t want to share the magic. Jack can’t sneak into my room or write me sweet notes, but he did share his brilliant smile when I walked into his room this morning. He knows it’s his mama’s birthday.

It’s not just my family that warms me, my friends are an incredible bunch. I’ve always heard that when learning a sport you should practice with better players. I’m not an athlete, but I’ve always thought of this when choosing friends. Since I was a little girl, I’ve managed to surround myself with people who teach me, encourage me and make me want to be my best.

Not that my friends have been a group of saints. “Best” hasn’t always included intellectually interesting endeavors, or even healthy activities, but my friends have always been an assortment of people who I find remarkable. I just had a great lunch with a dear friend (thanks Kim) and look forward to celebrating more this weekend. And, thanks to technology, friends from all over my life have remembered my birthday. I’m feeling extra loved.

Lately I’ve been watching the two generation on either side of me and wondering where I fit. My parents and in-laws are spending their retirement years traveling so much that I have trouble remember where everyone is on a given day. And, Anna and her pals get to enjoy the benefits of teenage life, where their only real priorities are working hard in school and make it home before curfew.

Sometimes, I feel a little buried under the responsibilities of being a middle-aged grown-up, but today I’m just trying to enjoy the fact that I’ve accomplished quite a bit in 46 years AND hoping that I have another 46 or so years to go.

Thanks for the Birthday love! I’m a lucky (kinda old) gal!!

Love, Jess

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Coming home is even better.

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Jack laughs with his whole body. His eyes water, his mouth opens and he utters a hardy chuckle, as his entire soul shakes. It’s one of the few noises our boy produces and the sound melts my heart.

The only time we want to quiet the giggles is when he’s eating. Jack’s laughter is so strong that anything in it’s way gets displaced. Food gets spit out, even through his g-tube (the little hole in his belly used to medicate and hydrate). It’s hard to feed Jack around Nonno, Uncle Matt, Uncle Pat or Ronny V. Those men say a word and Jack is in a frenzy.

Dan and I went away last weekend. Our annual excursion to see our dear friends, the Fitzgeralds. We spent the weekend enjoying the scenery of Maine and catching up with old college friends. Time with people who knew us “before” is critical to our survival. Yes – they ask about the kids and we share photos and stories, but it’s a fraction of the weekend. A relief to just be Jesse and Dan for a few days. In our real life, sometimes our identity gets lost in a pile of medical jargon and politically correct words for “disabled” and “handicapped”. With this crew, most of our chats are about music and memories.

The weekend away had the added benefit of no medication, diapers, or early morning dog duties. So odd waking up with nothing on my mind except a bit of a headache. It was perfection. Great meals and wine, hikes, boat rides and even a tour of Portland (thanks JK). But, when Monday rolled around, we were more than ready to get on the plane, anxious to hear Anna’s stories of the weekend and hear the sweet sound of Jack’s laughter.

We walked into the house on Monday to find Maria (Jack’s sitter/my favorite person EVER) cooking a beautiful dinner and Jack holding court at the island. When Anna heard the door, she flew down the stairs and there were hugs all around. We had dinner as Dan and I told the kids stories about the weekend. Anna loves hearing tales of her parents pretending to be twenty and Jack was so thrilled to have his parents home that anything we said was greeted with a smile. Once we were done eating, it was time for some real laughs. It was so good to be home.

Getting away is wonderful, but coming home is even better.

Love, Jess

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and she’s off!

We were on our way to the airport. It was only 4:15 am. I had a cup of coffee in my right hand, the steering wheel in my left and my eyes fixed on the road – trying hard not to look at Anna. I’d promised her that I won’t cry until she was safely through security.

“How about socks? Do you have the right kind of socks?”

“Yup”

“A hat Anna. You’ll need a hat!”

“Mom, I packed everything on the list. Don’t worry.”

Most parents would have checked their daughter’s suitcase before sending her off for two weeks in the woods. Many moms would have even done the packing for their child. I’d never seen the packing list sent from Outward Bound or glanced at what Anna had in that red nylon duffle bag. I’ve been rather spoiled as a mother. Anna doesn’t require much hand holding. There’s never been a need to go through her homework or her suitcases.

Anna was born strong and independent, but I’d be a fool not to acknowledge that our family’s circumstances have strengthened Anna’s self-reliance. Independence has been a necessity for Anna. She was only six-years-old when Jack got diagnosed and her family scattered. Although we held to our promise that either Dan or I would always be home at night for her while Jack was in the hospital, we were so focused on what was happening in room 505 at Columbia Presbyterian, that Anna didn’t get much of our attention. Thanks to friends and family, she was surrounded by love and support that spring and summer, but she learned that she needed to take care of plenty on her own.

Now that we’ve taped our family back together, we’re so accustomed to her independence that Dan and I assume that Anna will manage the school/packing stuff without much help. And, she does.

Her room is nestled on the third floor of our house. When I climb those steep stairs to check on her, I’m always amazed at her nest. Like all teenagers, she has trouble finding the laundry basket and her bed never seems to be made, but her closet is organized and she has a large whiteboard calendar hanging above her desk where she lists everything she needs to accomplish for the next month. Her grades are a reflection of her hard work and organizational skills. Bioengineering is her goal, and I imagine that’s where she is headed. She’s the smartest person I know.

Although Anna doesn’t require much in the way of homework or packing help, she gets more than her share of love and attention at home. Even her silent brother gives her constant feedback (with those magical brown eyes and wide smile) about her school endeavors and successes on the lacrosse field. And, we all have opinions and advice when it comes to her social life — 11:00 pm is late enough and shirts should not be smaller than bathing suits.

Outward Bound sent us a note yesterday afternoon informing us that all of the campers had arrived safely. I smiled, when I noticed there was no mention of any missing necessities in our daughter’s luggage. As much as I miss our Banana, I’m certain that she woke up this morning with a smile on her face, ready to face the challenges of the next two weeks. Thank goodness she remembered the hat.

Anna sent me this before she hit the trail and her phone went into quarantine.

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Slow down and check your rearview.

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We have a very narrow driveway. It’s sandwiched between a curb and a low stone wall that has left long scratches on the right side of every car we’ve owned since we’ve move into this house. I’ve found that if I focus just on the left side car mirror, I can follow the length of the driveway without harm. I’ve managed to avoid any damage for months – until yesterday.

Yesterday was my birthday. It started with a gentle birthday kiss on my cheek and a playful lick of my toes (Dan cheek/Finn toes). The morning continued with it’s perfection as we got the kids up and out, I ate my birthday breakfast and took a long walk with the dogs. I then got to sit down on the sofa to sort through piles of birthday wishes via text, phone and Facebook. I was feeling quite loved and very calm.

It wasn’t until I glanced at the time and realized that I was late for a meeting, that reality spilled back. What time was I supposed to be there? What time is that dinner thing tonight? Oh no – do I have anything to wear for that? Did Maria say she could be here by 6? Yikes, my folks called again – how did I miss that?

I threw on a coat and raced to the car. As I got in the driver-side, I was hitting the voicemail button on my phone wanting to hear my parents message. The Grateful Dead was blaring, my mother’s voice was wishing me a happy birthday and I was focusing on that left side mirror so that I could get to out of the driveway and to my appointment without being late.

I’m not sure what happened next. Maybe it was seeing a person waving their arms outside the passenger side window or maybe it was the loud “you’re too close” sound our car makes or maybe it was just the loud bang as I plowed into my friend’s car. My dear friend, Jen, had come by to surprise me with a birthday gift. I was so wrapped up in my crazy that I hadn’t noticed the giant SUV parked at the end of the driveway. I had been so overwhelmed with plans and meetings and stuff that I had forgotten to look around me.

Sometimes I feel very on top of things. Proud of the way I maneuver through a rather complicated life. I manage to have a fridge full of food and warm meals for my family. I teach some art classes at the local schools and write every day. But, sometimes I get a little distracted by my list of to dos that I forget to look around and notice the people around me.

Every year I write a list of goals I hope to achieve before my next birthday. This year at the top of that list is to remember to stop and look around before hitting the gas. I don’t want to miss special moments with special people AND I don’t want to damage any more cars.

Love, Jess
When I finally opened the box that Jen had delivered, It was delighted to see it was filled with 45 lottery tickets. I called to thank her and told her I hoped that I would win enough cash to pay for our cars to be fixed.

The “C” word.

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Lately we’ve been reminding our daughter, Anna, to leave all her doors open as she approaches adulthood. Strong grades, long lasting relationships, healthy habits — these are the things that can keep those doors open, leaving her with as many opportunities as possible. Jack had most of his doors shut before his ninth birthday. These lost opportunities have been huge focus for me the last couple of weeks.

Jack’s smile is usually enough to melt any feelings of sadness or frustration over what Adrenoleukodystophy (ALD) has done to our family. Jealousy seems to be harder to dissolve. Jealousy is the latest emotion in my journey toward acceptance.

When Jack was first diagnosed, we were thrown a pile of statistics and quickly learned how lethal ALD can be. The more advanced the disease at diagnosis, the worse the outcome. Loss of speech, vision, and hearing are almost expected and mobility is the next to go. All these possibilities seemed manageable as long as we didn’t lose our boy. And, we didn’t – we brought Jack home 79 days after his transplant and he managed to walk from our dented silver minivan to our front door. He was able to see the “Welcome Home” signs filling the front yard and hear the cheers of his friends as he arrived. We were lucky and I swore I’d never complain.

I’ve kept my promise — mostly. Dan, my mother, and my best friends know the ugly truth that I’m not always the picture of acceptance and joy. I do have my moments of anger and resentment and do sometimes yell, “Why the $%^& did this happen to us?!?!?!” Usually these moments are brief and can be calmed with a glass of wine or a strong hug. And, until recently, they’ve been sporadically sprinkled over an otherwise positive mood.

Lately, I’ve noticed a reoccurring knot in my stomach and a hard lump in my throat. Sometimes it’s followed by the need to leave a conversation quickly, and the want for a long walk or time alone in my room. It took a while to identify this feeling as jealousy and to figure out what was triggering it. After some soul searching, I’ve discovered the source of my uneasiness — college.

College is suddenly the topic of choice in our middle age, suburban circle. Jack’s peers are starting to prepare for their next chapter and they’re doing it without him. They’re visiting schools, planning their futures, and soon they’ll be heading off to their next adventure. All while Jack will be here with us in Maplewood (forever the dependent child). I’m jealous that our boy is faced with so many closed doors,  is not working on his college portfolio AND that Dan and I are not planning our empty-nest phase.

Typical Jesse, I keep finding myself knee deep in these conversations, as if the outcome is going to miraculously change. That it won’t bring me back to Jack and his lack of need for SAT prep and college essays. It’s ripping open the scab that I thought had fully healed, but I keep on asking the questions, “Where are you applying?” “Are you thinking a big state school or something smaller?” “How’s your SAT prep going? Have you found a good tutor?”. The truth is that I want to know. These are kids that I love and I am excited about all of their opportunities. I want to know every detail of their process. It’s also a way for me to prepare for Anna’s next steps as a student (writing those words brings that lump back).

So – when will I get over this latest bout of jealousy/anxiety? Sometimes writing it down helps me reach the end more quickly. Somehow it takes a little of the poison out of the situation. And, I know that acknowledging the problem is always a good first step.

Our local friends/neighbors are now going to panic that they need to steer clear of the “C” word for my benefit. Actually, I think it’s better if they do the opposite. The more I hear the word “college” the better. I need to get passed this or the next few years are going to be miserable!!
Love, Jess

Thank you Jack

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Everyone has challenges. We’re all burdened with regrets from our past, struggles in the present and concerns for the future. Often burying ourselves under a pile of worries. While I’m not suggesting that any of us has the ability to walk away from our pile, sometimes it’s important to put things in perspective and live in the moment.

I’ve been feeling a little stuck lately. Overwhelmed by everything from finances to parenting challenges to what to make for dinner. Yesterday, I was sitting with a stack of bills in the den and found myself watching Jack and wishing that his mood were contagious.

Jack was sitting on the couch watching a movie with one hand resting on Keegan and the other firmly in his mouth (he’s a chewer). His expression was one of pure joy. JOY is Jack’s usual expression. His mouth falls naturally upward and his eyes literally glow. Whether he’s watching television, eating or spending time with friends, Jack is completely present and happy. Although he can’t speak, Jack clearly understands everything around him. Spend an afternoon (or even a meal) with him and you will see that he is following every bit of the conversation. And, don’t let his juvenile behaviors trick you. Jack is a 16-year-old boy – he likes loud music, pretty girls and fart jokes.

As I watched Jack yesterday, I marveled at his beautiful and relaxed expression. His life is complicated but he always manages to find his peace. It occurred to me yesterday that his challenges provide him the excuse (that’s not really the right word, but you get the idea) of not needing to worry about things like paying bills, making dinner or doing homework. His sole responsibility is to live. He has a solid team caring for his needs allowing him to simply enjoy each moment. He knows that his sister will find him a good movie to watch, food will be provided when he is hungry and he will be changed if his clothes get wet.

While I have my pile of worries, I realized yesterday that, like Jack, I’m surrounded by a team to help manage my pile. I can’t rely on my team to do everything, but I don’t need to do any of it alone. Suddenly, I felt my shoulders relax, I put down the bills, announced that we were ordering in dinner, grabbed a pillow and found a spot on the couch next to my boy.

Next time you’re feeling overwhelmed, stop by and spend a little time with Jack. I can promise you that you will walk away feeling a little lighter. It’s like yoga without all the stretching.

Namaste

Love, Jess

Weekend Away = Panic

photoThis is when I start to panic. I start to think of all the possibilities of what could happen while we’re 229 miles away (yes, I looked it up). I have the usual concerns – What if Jack gets sick? What if the dogs get lost? What if the G-tube falls out? And, this year I have the added anxiety of leaving our high school daughter with limited monitoring. Anna’s a great girl, but I’m always waiting for her to turn into the rotten teenager of my past.

We’re heading to Massachusetts for a visit with old friends. Dan and I are lucky to share an incredible pile of friends from college. A pile that manages to find any excuse to get together and pretend that we’re still eighteen (with better wine and tougher mornings). When Jack first got sick, I never imagined that we’d manage to keep up our mini-reunions, but early on we decided that time away with old friends was a necessity.

Our friends have always been a big part of our lives and for the last seven years they’ve been a big part of our survival – duct tape. Being with old friends and escaping reality with my husband a few times a year is priceless. This crew let’s us just be Jesse and Dan, alleviating us from being ALD parents. And, being away reminds us that other people can be in charge without the world imploding. We’re not the only people who can bathe and medicate Jack and gently remind Anna to put her phone away. We may come home exhausted on Sunday, but we’ll be refreshed.

So it’s all great. Dan and I are getting time with each other and old friends; the kids are getting time with each other and Maria (Jack’s sitter, my savior, and an amazing cook). So why am I spending nights awake thinking of all the things that could go wrong? Why is going away so stressful, even when I know that the kids will survive and Dan and I will have a ball? Maybe it’s just a mom thing.

Dan doesn’t share my crazy panic. He’ll wake up Friday, throw some clothes into his weekend bag, give the kids a smooch, and hop in the car. Meanwhile, I’ll make Dan turn the car around twice before we reach the highway to double check my three page list of instructions. We will be in Connecticut before I can breathe. And, I will call so often this weekend that Anna will start to answer with, “Mom. Are you kidding me?”.

I’m here at my desk working on my “list” and making sure I haven’t forgotten anything critical. My bag is already packed and in the mudroom and Jack’s medication is drawn and labeled for the next week (What if something happens and we can’t make it home by Sunday?).

If the world doesn’t collapse, Dan and I are heading out Friday morning. If you see the kids around town this weekend, give them a hug AND if you see me post any pictures on Facebook, please send me a text with a gentle reminder to put MY phone away.

Love, Jess