Bring on the Band…

Teen Daughter, tooting flute

Teen Daughter, tooting flute

Just had to say, my camera KICKS BUTT.

I was sitting in the very back of our large community theater. My daughter, the one with the blue hair, was a small speck of a kid on the stage. And THIS, this photo? From my seat, all the way to her, with NO flash.

Not bad, eh?

Oh. And neither was the concert. Festival’s this Friday, and my fingers are crossed.

Meet the Day Family

This week is Spring Break for my kids. They’ve had fun, and they’ve had their share of squabbles. And come Monday, it’ll all be over, and back to normal routines of school, homework, and more reasonable bedtimes.

Luckily, my son is rarely bored. We’re constantly after him to keep his Legos picked up, and most of the time it’s a losing battle. Our living room carpet is literally a sea of plastic bits that probably came from some Star Wars themed fighting ship, and are always poised to be transformed into something else every day.

Well, today, he surprised us with this. Meet the Day Family!

The Day Family in Legos

The Day Family in Legos

Left to right are Steven, Diana, John and Trish. Aren’t we a good looking bunch?

I am especially tickled with the detail and time he took with LegoTrish.

LegoTrish

LegoTrish

This is me, in my wheelchair, which he custom made. In my hands I am doing some sort of needlework, which was another touch he thought of by himself. (“Sorry, mommy, I could only find one knitting needle!”)

We’ve always taught our kids that my wheelchair is a part of me, and that it is not something which is a hindrance, but a tool that makes it possible for me to participate in life. I am their mom, and I just happen to be in a wheelchair. It’s not big news at our house, but it is such an integrated part of who I am that with every picture my kids have ever drawn of me, it is obvious that I am in a wheelchair.

So, it would be only right that the Lego Family would have a mom in a wheelchair, too… even if Lego wheelchairs don’t exist and 8-year-old boys have to stick them together with odd bits and pieces. And he did a pretty darn good job, too! Here’s a side view, for you wheelchair geeks.

LegoTrish side view

LegoTrish side view

Not bad, eh?

14, And One to Grow On…

Diana soaking up the sun on a happy day

Diana soaking up the sun on a happy day

At the risk of sounding mushy, I’m going to tell you that 14 years ago tonight, almost to the very moment of this writing, I became a mother. That moment, at the sound of her first cry, on what was a snowy night in March, was so much more than the realization of a lifelong dream. It was EVERY dream. Practically the only thing I ever wanted in my whole life. And there she was, pink-faced and perturbed that we disturbed her napping with the business of being born. The enormity of the moment thankfully didn’t hit me just then, but eventually it did… that I would be completely and utterly responsible for the well-being of someone other than myself. That not only would I have to keep her fed and warm and clean and dry, but that also I would have to teach her things, and help her find her way through this life that is becoming more and more complicated.

Would I be up to the challenge? To help this little, wriggling girl know the difference between right and wrong, and to help her make good choices? Would I be able to share my knowledge with her without passing on the guilt of my own mistakes?

Would I forget to be so serious all the time, and teach her how to laugh? Would I teach her that the most wonderful places in the world are the ones you conjure up in your imagination? Would I show her how to be curious without being afraid?

Fourteen years ago, as all these things were crossing my mind, I could not imagine being here. Fourteen years on, with a daughter who now towers far above my head, but has the shyness of a child. One who is a giggling schoolgirl and an old soul all at once. We are a work in progress, she and I, and only time will tell me if I have done well. I think so, though, and so far I am very proud that of all the daughters in the world, God gave me this one. I am truly lucky.

Happy birthday, sweet girl. I love you.

Jumping for Joy

Jumping for Joy

Panic Time

Christmas is coming,
The goose is getting fat.
Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.
If you haven’t got a penny then a ha’ penny will do…

(Well, you know the rest…)

This is the time of year when I just get crazy. So much to do! So little time! Christmas comes on the same freakin’ day every year, and yet, I can’t ever avoid the last minute hectic feeling. It’s like I’m singing in rounds all the time, except the song’s never over, and I can’t catch my breath. For instance, just this week alone:

My little boy is sick. Not just a little bit sick. He got sent home from school on Thursday morning, and we took him to the doctor right away, and though he looked awful he didn’t even have a fever and so they just sent us home and said, oh well.. wait it out. So we’re waiting. And waiting. It’s Day 5 now and really? We’d really just like him to be well already. We’re going back to the doctor tomorrow because the fevers that were nonexistent on Thursday? They won’t go away now. Not to mention the whoopsie tummy incident on my den carpet (right behind me, at the computer) that somehow made a red Slurpee live forever in monument on the rug. Ok so the carpet doesn’t owe us a thing, but I had been hoping to replace it sometime after my elderly cats weren’t around to leave their own monuments on a new carpet. Oh well, just my luck. Anyway, I’m really hoping BoyZilla gets well soon… I truly hate seeing him so miserable.

Second, the Christmas Cards. The cards are here, but still in boxes. The newsletter that I had been skipping the last four years suddenly got done this year (my daughter volunteered) but now it means an extra trip to Kinkos at some point for copying. Sigh. And is there anybody out there who can run to the post office for me? I need about a hundred stamps, quick. Thanks!

Third, the office potluck, scheduled for Wednesday, at a time when I already had a meeting on the top floor (a big deal where I work). I struggled all weekend to find something I could make in the crockpot for ease of carrying. Except the group couldn’t decide whether it was going to be breakfast or lunch. If it was breakfast then there are others who are the queens of breakfast casseroles and quiche, so I needed a sort of side dish, that was festive, and good for either situation. Not as easy as you’d think.

I settled on Potatoes Au Gratin with Asiago and Gorgonzola and cream cheese with turkey kielbasa. (Did I mention that people in my office don’t eat pork?) So I send the poor husband on a cheese hunt in the market (We’re simple cheese slice people and typically can’t even spell Gorgonzola) and after much searching he was successful. Yay! Gourmet cheesy potatoes! Except you know what? The boss tells me today that our potluck has been postponed. So has my meeting on the top floor, by the way, so I’m feeling all cheesed up and nowhere to go. Harumph.

My wedding ring has been broken since before Thanksgiving and it has been repaired and is waiting for me at the jeweler, except I can’t seem to get there, what with the sick kid and cheese quest and all. I guess it’s ok, though because my nephew already has the book I bought him for Christmas so I have to go get something else this weekend. One last trip to the mall. I guess I’ll pick up my ring this weekend.

So, as you can imagine, I’m a little stressed out. So much, in fact, that I got all teary-eyed at one of those Folger coffee commercials, you know, where the missing family member gets home for Christmas, and starts a pot of coffee for his sleeping mom and dad? Yeah that one. Totally bawled. I think I need a cuppa and a hug.

But, it’s not all bad… today the mailman brought this:

Gedifra Cashmere pink yarn

Gedifra Cashmere pink yarn

That’s right, Trish. Go pet the cashmere. It’ll all be over soon.