Why him?

My son was born with a health condition that he is going to be challenged with his entire life.  Whew - I said it.  That's our dark, dirty secret.  It's the information that I share with selective family members and close friends.  It's on a need-to-know basis, and so far, we've found very few people who need to know.  I won't go into more detail about his health condition; this IS a public blog and the information will be his to share publically when he's older, or to decide not to share at all.  

We knew at my 36 week ultrasound that something wasn't right.  We didn't realize just how bad it was until he was about 8 months old.  For the past 26 months, my husband and I have asked each other "Why him?", "Why us?", "What did we do to deserve this?" and we don't have any answers. How is it fair that this loving, brilliant, gifted, perfect child has been given this to deal with in his life?  And how are we supposed to talk to him about this and let him know that his life may not be as long as ours?  We don't have answers to these questions either.

I've asked God "why" so many times that, like all parents, He's probably tuned me out now. He's not interested in answering that question for me...at least not yet. 

It wasn't until recently when I started looking back at all of the events leading to now, and thought that maybe I was seeing it all wrong.  Instead of thinking about why God would take my son away from us too early, maybe I should be grateful for having any time with him at all.

If the doctors hadn't ordered the ultrasound at 36 weeks and caught the first sign of an issue, one or both of us wouldn't have survived the delivery.  But they caught it.

When my son was born, he couldn't breathe or eat and was sent to the NICU for a week.  If the nurses and doctors at Lehigh Valley Hospital hadn't taken helped him, he wouldn't have survived the first hours or days of his life.  But they did.

So I have him....for now.  I know I'll still ask "why" and I don't expect an answer.  But as we share more with family and friends, I also know that the volume on the prayers is getting louder.  If love and prayers can heal, then my son will be ok.

Discovering who are true friends are

There are times in our lives when we realize who around us is really important in our lives.  For me, it often comes in times when I need help or when something has gone horribly wrong in my life.  My family has had to face a "road bump" over the past two weeks - certainly not the first or the last one for us - but unexpected and poorly timed all the time.
It's in this time, that I've realized how much family and friends care about my family - and seen which friends are the ones I can truly count on.
On the two hour ambulance ride from Pocono Medical Center to Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, it was my friend Heather that I was texting for support.  It was Heather who texted me every few hours over the next three days while I camped out in my son's hospital room to check in, and send him a Sponge Bob balloon that showed us the first smile we'd seen in days.
It was my friend Courtney who sent me messages to check in, and helped my co-workers send a bunch of balloons to my son when we were sent home from CHoP.  My friend Kelly sent a "Not Bored Anymore" jar from Land of Nod full of crafts and activities to keep my son entertained.  My parents and father-in-law all sent books.  My sister and her husband brought coloring books, puzzles, and movies. My fabulous sister-in-law thrilled my son with a box of stickers and toys. My friend Carolyn stopped by with toys, and then with a delicous homemade dinner for my family.  This doesn't even take into account the text messages and emails that we get daily to check in and see how we're doing. And it's not about what people brought or sent - it's that so many people took the time to show that they care and to give support to us. 
This is amazing to me, because for years while living here, Joe and I found it so hard to make friends as adults.  Sure, we had friends from work, but nothing like the friendships that we had and saw our parents have as we grew up in a small town.  But now I realize how wrong we were.  We do have a support network here - it's just sad that it takes a bad time to show us the good.

The Ultimate Throwdown: Daycare Teacher Gift Giving

I admit it:  I AM COMPETITIVE.  There, I said it.  Are you surprised?  Well, for anyone who knows me, I would be really surprised if that was a shocking revelation. Give me any contest or competition, regardless of the size of the prize, and I will show up ready to WIN.

But since enrolling my son in his daycare, I've come across a type of competition that had previously been foreign to me.  It's the heated, yet unspoken, competition among us parents to see who can give the teachers the best presents.  In fact, is it so underground, that I didn't know about this competition until I was sadly embarrassed by other parents during the Christmas of 2009. 

While I was recovering from that brutal beating, I was quickly thrown back down because I didn't realize that this gift giving craze applies to EVERY school occasion and holiday:  Easter, St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day, Halloween, Graduation, Teacher Appreciation WEEK, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years....and the list goes on and on.  I'm sure that you can imagine my surprise as I was carrying a child, bottles, sheets, and a stuffed backpack into my son's classroom on a windy March day, and came face to face with a very smug Supermom who had just dropped off St. Patrick's Day gifts for the classroom's teachers.  The bags alone must have taken her hours to make; hand decorated with cut-out shamrocks, ribbons, and just the right amount of glitter as to not look too tacky.  I could hear the oooo's and ahhhh's as the teachers opened the gifts that Martha Stewart herself would have been envious of.  I quickly dropped off my son and left with my head hung in defeat, vowing to myself that I would never be caught unarmed again.

I'm proud to say that I'm making a strong comeback and now I'm consistently in the running for the top gift.  In fact, I can even claim one victory.

Picture this:  Toddler 1 Graduation. April 2011. Some parents gave chocolates, others gave homemade cards complete with personalized toddler coloring, and of course the apple-for-teacher theme was very popular.  I took this one to an entirely new level, shocking the parental competition with my creativity and earning the virtual crown from the Best Gift pageant.  I traced Kevin's feet with black marker, and then we spent time coloring a set of feet together for each teacher.  I cut out the footprints, and sat down to put my poetry skills to work.  After three drafts, I was satisfied with my prose:

For the past year, I've kept you on your toes,

but I better teacher, I couldn't have chose.

I've learned my numbers, letters, and lots of new stuff.

Mommy, Daddy, and I can't thank you enough.

Now it's time for you to relax and take a seat,

and pamper your very tired feet.

And do this, I attached a gift certificate for each teacher to get a pedicure at my favorite local spa.   Ahhhh.....the taste of Victory!

Christmas 2010 gifts had a very cute theme for the younger teachers we had at the time.  I gave Philosophy's peppermint hand lotion, and hot cocoa lip gloss, with a peppermint bark dipped in chocolate.  It was a very cute presentation, wrapped in an hand-made, origami coffee mug.

I made a decent showing for Halloween this year, but I know it wasn't my best effort: Personalized orange, white, and black M&Ms wrapped in a Halloween themed embroidered hand towel.  Very cute, but no points for originality.

And even as I sit here and type this "confession" I really do wonder if this is just a competition between the parents, or if the teachers really do pick the "winner."  I'm 99.8% certain that the teachers don't play favorites with the kids based on the gifts they get....but just to cover the risk around that .2%, I'm starting to plan the Christmas gifts now!

I'm so proud of you....

As I was getting ready for work on Wednesday morning, my little man came up to me and hugged my legs.  He looked up at me and said "I so proud of you, Mommy."

It melted my heart.

And brought tears to my eyes.

Obviously we're using a lot of positive reinforcement with potty training (I get a round of applause every time I pee...), but it was the first time that Kevin gave me the praise that I've been giving him. 

And while it was the first time that he's ever said that back to me, it really did get me thinking.  How is it that my toddler is proud of me, and I am not satisfied?  My husband says it best:  "Johnna, you always have to keep moving on to something new.  New car. New house. New job.  Nothing is every good enough for you to just enjoy."  

Even so, it took a toddler to point it out to me.  I need to stop and reflect, so I can step back and look at everything that I've done in my career, my marriage, and as a mother....and just be PROUD of myself.

Bedtime Prayers

The highlight of my day is coming home to my family.  And at night, I love going through the bedtime routine with my baby. I know he won't be a baby forever, so this is 30 minutes that I am going to enjoy now, but sadly miss as he grows up. Bathtime, brushing his teeth, reading "Don't Cry, Big Bird," saying goodnight to Daddy, and his bedtime prayers...so honest and special that my heart just about bursts as I kiss him goodnight.

I started by teaching him to bow his head and fold his hands while I said the prayer just after his second birthday.  Since then, he has start repeating the last few words of every line, and now can say his short little prayer all by himself....followed by a loud and proud "AMEN."  We added some blessing to bedtime prayers too....and he goes through all of the special people in his life.  "God bless Kyla.  God bless Ju. God bless Mimi.  God bless Papa. God bless Grandpa.  God bless Grandma Stone.  God bless Macey."  Some nights he throws in a few extra people:  "God bless Rosie the dog.  God bless cousin Ben.  God bless Alex and his brother Matthew.  God bless Jenson."  Such a loving little man with a big heart. 

I believe in God, even though I know I don't get to church as much as I should.  And I pray for people, guidance, and causes.  But I wonder when I stopped being so honest with my prayers.  I look at my son, and I know that he has no filters when he prays - he says everything with an open heart - and I'm sad that I'm not like that.  When did I get so cynical and hardened?  Can I be more like him?
I wonder if I would be more faithful how it would impact the rest of my life.  Would I be a different person at work? With my family? Would I be a better wife and friend?  Would people look at me and see me as a shining example of the Lord?
And what's stopping me?  When did I stop saying my bedtime prayers every night?

Bravery and a pair of scissors

The Googled Choice

In a moment of unusual bravery, I decided it was time to get a new hairstyle.  Don’t worry if you remember my January posting…I’m still keeping the curls…but it was time to revisit the length.  So where does any self-respecting, hair adventurist turn for ideas on hairstyles??? GOOGLE!  I walked into my salon with a wish and a photo.





After a touch up on my roots from Jade (my favorite hair stylist at Depasquale), I sat in the chair and watched inches of my hair fall to the floor with every snip of the scissors.  After twenty minutes of cutting and styling (and suppressing myself from screaming at Jade to stop) my new haircut was ready for my big reveal.   I saw myself in the mirror and I HATED it!  It was way too short for the shape of my face, and didn’t have the volume I was looking for. 

I went in the door and the first thing that my husband said to me was “What the hell did you do to your hair??”  And then my toddler just pointed at my head.  AWESOME. That wasn’t what I was going for!!  Although it did validate my own opinion!!  A shower and my own styling techniques later (anyone with curly hair will understand that the hairstylist never really knows how to make it work at a salon), I thought the cut looked a little better.  Now, after one week, I will admit that my new haircut has grown on me (hahahaha!).  Even better, it takes less time to style, and is certainly more environmentally friendly since I don’t have to use a gallon of hairspray every day.

So…realizing that I am putting myself out there in blog-land, I am posting a picture of the new do…with the request for only positive feedback…even if you have to lie to me!!   (This is accompanied with a request for forgiveness....realizing that a self portrait with my mobile phone puts in an uncomfortable category with teenagers on MySpace.)

The New Do

Fear of Flying

With a job that requires that requires me to travel, it’s hard to believe that I still get nervous about getting on an airplane.  And I will admit that it has gotten worse since my son was born.  I don’t know if it feels like I have so much more to lose now (not that I didn’t value my husband and family before), or that I can’t even think of my baby growing up without me. Although I do realize that financially, I’m worth more dead than alive thanks to a great life insurance policy!!  (This is something I don’t advertise to my husband!!)

My first international flight was eight months after my son was born.  It was a trip to Brussels for work, and I had a panic attack on the plane.  I remember sitting on my seat on that plane in Newark, awaiting take-off, and my palms were actually sweating.  It’s not an expression – it actually happens!  I felt dizzy and had to work really hard to breath.  If I could have gotten out of my seat and run to the door, I would have, but I had an irrational fear of being tackled by an air marshall – plus my legs would move.  All I could do was sit there and recite the Lord’s Prayer.  

I’ve flown around the US a lot (and even done flights alone with my toddler!), but there was something about going over water that makes me extremely nervous.  If there are engine problems on a plane from Newark to Chicago, the plane could lane at another airport.  But if we’re over the Atlantic Ocean, then we’re going down.    

But I like numbers and facts, so I did some research.   Did you know that according to the US government, 95.7 percent of the passengers involved in aviation accidents make it out alive?  That's right. When the National Transportation Safety Board studied accidents between 1983 and 2000 involving 53,487 passengers, they found that 51,207 survived. That's 95.7 percent. When you exclude crashes in which no one had a chance of surviving - like Pan Am 103 - the NTSB says the survival rate in the most serious crashes is 76.6 percent. In other words, if your plane crashes, you aren't necessarily doomed, just like the passengers on US Air 1549 in the Hudson.

All this is somewhat comforting. But you know what?  Tomorrow morning on my flight from London Heathrow to Newark, I will still be saying the Lord’s Prayer before we take off.