grandparents

Let’s Here It For June!

Posted on June 1, 2015 Written by Tonya

I love turning the calendar on a new month, but especially June! June is full of happy.

Today is Charlie Pasta’s third birthday and from the moment I first held him, I knew he was meant to be ours. He drives me absolutely bananas 90 percent of the time, but he’s loyal and sweet, great with my children, my husband’s best friend and super cute, so our love/hate relationship will continue forever.

June also marks the end of the school year and Lucas is just days from graduating from Kindergarten and turning six! His Golden Birthday is Saturday. I can’t believe either. As much as I enjoy starting a new month, I wish time could be paused.

Lucas has grown so much this school year! He has fallen deeper in love with books, insists on reading to us most nights, writes his own adventure stories, has discovered Skylanders, is an awesome big brother to Lola and has started exerting his opinion, space and will in a very big way.

Case and point:

The current sign on Lucas’s door.

I’m looking forward to a fun summer. O_o

To help alleviate some of the stress, my in-laws will be in town all summer, allowing them an opportunity to get to know the other half of the state better and spend quality time with their grandchildren. Yay!! We are grateful for their help.

Lastly, June is my birthday month! I’ll be 43 on June 26 and this morning my In Box was flooded with cool discounts and free stuff. If you didn’t know you could celebrate your special day all month long, read this post I wrote a couple of years ago: A Month Long Celebration. Free stuff is great and all, but I’m excited about a birthday weekend getaway with my husband. We haven’t decided where to yet, but there will be sun and cocktails and lounging by the pool!

It’s going to be quite the month!! What are you looking forward to in June?

Small Treasures

Posted on March 11, 2015 Written by Tonya

Lucas asked quietly and consciously to look through my jewelry box. I’ll never forget how surprised he was when I said yes.

We sat on the floor of my closet and carefully went through each drawer and compartment. I let him handle items as I explained where I got them or who gave them to me. He listened intently.

The sapphire and diamond earrings and necklace set my parents gave me were my something blue in my [first] wedding.

A Claddagh ring from an old boyfriend.

The white tassel from my cap bearing a 96 for the year I graduated from college.

The first birthday present his father gave me after we started dating; a necklace with an engraved pendant that reads: I call for your abundance like an armor of ships.

A cameo brooch pin that belonged to my grandmother.

A metal bracelet I bought from a street vendor on the beach in Cabo.

Various bangles and baubles, odd rings I never wear, tarnished earrings, a strand of pearls, turquoise, coral, shell and gunmetal necklaces, a pair of delicate silver hoops that were my mother’s, several items from Stella and Dot (my latest jewelry obsession), the tiny silver spoon, which was a gift from our beloved fertility doctor when I graduated from her office to my regular OB, monogrammed charms, stray fortunes from fortune cookies and other gifts from family and friends.

Lucas was focused as he tried on bracelets and slipped necklaces around his neck.

You never wear this.
Oh, I like this one, it sparkles!
Doesn’t Aunt Leah have this too?
This is so pretty.

It wasn’t until we got to the satin navy blue jewelry travel bag in the bottom drawer that I realized this may have been a mistake.

Inside the bag is a smaller red pouch that I keep the jewelry my parents were wearing when they died; their wedding bands, my mother’s engagement ring, my father’s college class ring, my mother’s gold necklace, bracelet and two other rings and my father’s Mickey Mouse watch, whose long white-gloved hands are frozen at 10:03. The band still very faintly smells of him.

I remained composed as I showed Lucas each piece and answered his questions.

Why do have these, Mommy?
How did you get them?
Will you ever wear these?
Will Daddy?
Your dad had big fingers.

I thought there was nothing of real value in my jewelry box, just a bunch of costume jewelry and certainly nothing that a five-year-old boy would find interesting. I was wrong and now to both of us, it is full of memories, stories and small treasures.

Family Tree

Posted on November 18, 2014 Written by Tonya

Just like I knew they would, my eyes fill with tears as I tell Lucas the photos we are carefully pasting to the page are the last ones taken of my parents. It was my wedding day, seven years ago.

I thought we’d have a couple more years before Lucas had a Family Tree project.

It’s basic, immediate family only, no research required and a few fun questions about our family including, who is the oldest member of our family and who has the longest eyelashes.

I’m worried.

Lucas has been known to tell complete strangers that my parents are dead. Just like that, he’ll blurt out to anyone who’ll listen, “My mom’s parents are dead.” It was shocking the first couple of times but, I expect it now. I’m ready when the cashier at the supermarket looks at me with a blank stare on her face unsure what to say next. “It’s okay.” I say. Of course, it’s anything but okay, but she doesn’t want to hear a sob story and I’m just trying to buy dinner.

Death is a regular topic in our home. I have shared here before the many conversations we have had as a family, the questions my five-year-old so inquisitively asks and the delicate way in which we attempt to ease his precious heart and mind by responding the best way we know how, with the truth.

For us, it is normal. I realize this is not the case in other homes and assume most of his classmates have two sets of living grandparents, maybe more.

Lucas only has one set of grandparents and they are kind and loving and a very big part of our lives. I am grateful for them every day.

I could argue that my parents are a big part of our lives too, as they come up in regular conversation, there are lots of photos of them in our house and many stories and memories to share. But are my parents no longer my children’s grandparents because they are not here physically or because they never had the chance to meet my children? We refer to them as Grandma and Grandpa Adams. In my mind that’s what they are. Right? I don’t have the answers. All I know is, their lives were cut short and were they here, they’d love Lucas and Lola to pieces.

I’m not worried about what Lucas will say when it is his turn to present his family to his class, he’ll no doubt share what details he knows, however, I am concerned about how the other children may respond.

I gave Lucas’s teacher a head’s up and she was grateful and reassured me that no two families are alike and that she would create a sensitive environment for whatever the children what to discuss.

Heaven

Posted on September 17, 2014 Written by Tonya

Always when I’m most exacerbated, it’s 100 degrees outside and I’ve made three trips to and from the car with arms full of necessities, Lola is screaming in her car seat, my phone starts to buzz and we are hitting nothing but red lights already late for karate, when his sweet voice from the backseat asks, “Are your eyes open or closed in heaven?”

Where did that come from? I was just yelling at him to put on his shoes. It’s feel as if at that very moment in time someone out there knows I need perspective. Two someones, my angels, my parents. They are urging me to stop and remember.

I take a deep inhale before I respond, “I don’t know, Lucas. I would think open.”

“Because heaven is whatever you want it to be, right?”, he asks shyly.

“Yes.” I can feel my belly tighten but I’m relieved he remembers this from previous conversations.

“But you’re really still, aren’t you?”

“No, I imagine you can dance and sing and ride your skateboard and eat your favorite desserts and build Lego all day long. You could even learn how to play golf!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah! You get to do whatever you want with anyone who has already died.”

“Like your mom and dad? Could I touch them? I’d like to hug them.”

With tears now running down my face certain of where this was headed, “They would like that very much.”

“So wait, there are stores in heaven?”

Knowing full well that the thought of Lego in heaven would peak his interest. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then where do the Lego come from?”

“If that is what your idea of heaven is, playing with Lego then they are just there, ready for you. Boxes and boxes of Lego all lined up.”

Now I’m fearful I’ve just sold heaven to my five-year-old.

“What if I need help, you know how sometimes I need help putting them together? Will you and Daddy be there?”

This is getting too deep. And too hard on my heart.

“Lucas, heaven is just an idea. Some people think, I think that if you’re a good person here on earth while you’re alive, when you die you will go to heaven and when you’re there you get to see all of the people that you loved the most who died before you.”

I catch a glimpse of him in the rear view mirror craning his neck to look out the window, “Where is it? Why can’t we go there now? Is it above the clouds and the airplanes? I can’t see it.”

“No, you can’t see it and you don’t want to go until it’s your time.”

“But you’re going to die way after me right?”

“Oh no, I hope not!”

“When are you going to die?”

“Nobody knows when they’re going to die, but I’m going to be here for a very long time so you don’t need to worry about that, okay?”

“How long?”

“I don’t know, but I hope I’ll be here until you are my age.

Shocked that I could pull a number, an age out of thin air, “42? You’re going to die when I’m 42?”

“Lucas, death is very serious. It’s final. When you die, you are no longer here.”

“What would you do if I died?”

“I can’t even bear the thought. I would cry morning, noon and night. I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I would miss you so much.”

“What would you do with my toys?”

“They’d probably stay right where there are for a very long time.”

“You could give them away, Mom. I’d be okay with that.”

I love my son more than words and I sincerely hope I haven’t done irreparable damage to his innocent mind, world or faith with all my talk of a heaven I don’t know exists.

She’s Here!

Posted on February 10, 2014 Written by Tonya

She’s here! She’s here! I am thrilled, grateful, full of joy and so, so much love. There truly are no words to describe how happy I am to finally have this tiny baby girl in my arms.

However…

between constipation, engorged boobs, sore nipples, painful pumping sessions, lack of sleep, not being able to move around comfortably, swollen feet and hands, stitches, burning sensation in my abdomen, multiple bouts of crying throughout the day, not being able to drive for two weeks, an over active pre-schooler, mounds of laundry, an insatiable thirst and crazy out of whack hormones, postpartum days really suck.

On the other hand, there is a very supportive and helpful husband, an understanding 4-year-old, in-laws to look after Lucas, a sweet and curious dog, friends who visit bearing gifts, meals, sound advice and laughter, doctors and specialists who know better, breast feeding support groups, pain medication, cabbage (if you have ever breast fed, you’ll understand), time and moments like this:

It was worth the wait and worth all the postpartum BS. Bring it… I’m getting stronger every day and slowly healing.

I will share Lola Paige’s birth story soon and more photos, but blogging will be intermittent for the next few weeks as I’ll be busy snuggling my newborn miracle. Thank you for understanding.

How I Beat The Post-Holiday Blues

Posted on December 28, 2013 Written by Tonya

Our first Christmas in our new house was a memorable one and the 75+ degree temperatures have been weird and wonderful. I loved having my in-laws, sister and her boyfriend staying with us and still can’t believe all of my recipes turned out exactly the way they were suppose to. I think spent more time in the kitchen over the last week than I have all year (more on this in another post)! And nothing can compare to a child’s excitement over Santa’s arrival. Lucas was a ball of energy all week!

But now it’s over.

Just like that.

For me the worst part of Christmas is the aftermath: the tree has been taken down, most of the gifts have either been exchanged, returned for the correct size or put away, the last of the pie has been eaten, family and friends have gone home, the mailbox is no longer bursting with greetings and thank you cards have been started.

It’s sad.

So much excitement and anticipation goes into prepping for the holidays and then all at once, it’s over and the warm fuzzy feelings disappear.

Here are some ways I like to combat the post-holiday blues:

Create a scrapbook or fun collage to commemorate holiday memories.

Begin (or in my case, resume) an exercise program. I went for a walk this morning and it was mind clearing and felt great.

Daydream about summer and our next family vacation. We’re thinking Mexico and yes, with a new baby!

Do something productive… as if I haven’t been productive the last few months, making a baby and moving, etc., but I spent some time getting Lucas signed up for swim lessons, soccer and researched karate classes. I also packed a bag for the hospital and renewed my domain name. All of these tasks have been on my To Do list for weeks and I’m glad to have them behind me.

Treat myself. Like me, chances are you have been cooking and baking for family and friends and buying for others, so now is the time to schedule a massage or hair appointment, or some quiet time alone to curl up with a good book (or my brand new Kindle Paperwhite!!).

I know I’m not the only one that feels this way, so I reached out to a friend and we had a great phone call recapping the last few days and planning for the upcoming weeks.

How do you avoid the post holiday blues?

Whatever you do to get through this time, know that these feelings will soon pass and more good times are in store!

Stamp Collecting

Posted on December 20, 2013 Written by Tonya

I can picture him now, plain white undershirt and khaki pants, cross legged on the carpet in front of the TV in our living room. Sometimes there would a card table set up and he’d be sitting in a metal folding chair. Either way it always looked completely uncomfortable to me, but I knew this was how he relaxed. He was in his happy place studying stamps, organizing stamps, categorizing stamps. He’d spend hours “playing with his stamps, as we would affectionately call his favorite activity.

There would be a magnifying glass in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other. Occasionally he would call me over and say, “you have to see this, isn’t it beautiful?” I’d roll my eyes and nod in agreement, “sure is Dad.”

My father had dozens of binders of stamps he had collected from all over the world. They filled the entire closet in his study. He acquired them in all different ways; personally living or visiting the countries of origin, giving money to friends he knew would be somewhere he hadn’t with a request and even ripping them right off envelopes from letters anyone in our family received.

He was a member of several philatelic clubs and his specialty was collecting stamp on stamps, a stamp depicting a stamp.

As one of the world’s most popular hobbies, I never really understood stamp collecting but I certainly can now appreciate how lovely they can be and I’m so happy my dad had this activity.

My sister and I sold the majority of his collection when he and our mother died. Although he had it insured for several thousands of dollars, it wasn’t worth very much. We kept all of his US postage stamps and I haven’t had to purchase a stamp in the last six years because he had that many!

If you received a holiday card from us then you also received a couple of stamps that my dad collected. I always enjoy flipping through the historic figures, trains, planes, automobiles, endangered species, sports, Olympics, Americana, pop culture, Disney, music legends, athletes, cartoon characters, world events, PSAs, celebrities, tiny insects, gargantuan dinosaurs, shaped stamps, unusual rarities, new stamps, old stamps and everything in between! There’s always a twinge of guilt and I wonder how he’d feel about my actually using them.

My only wish now is knowing how his passion for stamp collecting evolved. I suppose his love of history and curious nature played a large part. I’d think he’d want us to use them and I know he’d love that I am saving some that just seem more special than others for Lucas. Maybe he’ll take after his grandfather…

The Spookiest Story I’ve Ever Heard

Posted on October 30, 2013 Written by Tonya

I don’t know about you, but I have already had my fill of candy corn. I can’t help it, I just can’t get enough of the sugary stuff!

The last time I “dressed up” for Halloween was a decade ago for a co-workers Halloween party and I was a very demure 50’s girl complete with poodle skirt, cardigan sweater, pigtails and Keds. Clearly, I’m not a big fan of this holiday. I do, however, love taking Lucas trick-or-treating (wait until you see his costume!) and his excitement over Halloween decorations is adorable.

I do find haunted houses, ghost stories, witches and fortune tellers intriguing, but I’m not overly comfortable with the macabre. There is a large part of me that believes in the afterlife, mediums and those who can communicate with the dead. I have visited several psychics over the years and not a Halloween goes by that I don’t think about a spooky story my grandmother and mother used to tell me.

I didn’t know my mother’s mother very well. We always lived far away from my grandparents and only saw them once a year. She died when I was in college. I do recall she was a heavy smoker, a loud talker, collected owl figurines, loved to sew and I will forever remember this story, the spookiest one I’ve ever heard.

Unfortunately, no one else in my family can verify this story and since neither my grandmother nor mother are with us any more, I choose to believe it’s true…

My grandmother was 15 and out shopping with a girlfriend and stumbled upon a fortune teller. For kicks, they decided to have their fortune told. My grandmother went first and the psychic told her the “standard”, you’ll marry someone tall, dark and handsome, to which my grandmother giggled and then promptly forgot.

When it was her friend’s turn, the fortune teller clammed up and became very jittery. She claimed that she couldn’t tell the girl’s fortune because nothing was “coming to her” and instead wrote something on a piece of paper and asked her to put the note in her shoe to read once she got home.

The two girls carried on with their day, had lunch, did more shopping and as they were heading home crossed a busy intersection. My grandmother’s friend was hit a car. She was instantly killed.

The note tucked in her shoe read, “you’ll never live to read this”.

I have never heard this story from anyone else so as far as I know, it is true. I’ve shared it many times over the years and it still send chills up and down my spine.

Wishing everyone a very happy and safe Halloween!

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 2.) A spooky story someone once told you.

A version of this post entitled Fortune Teller originally appeared on Letters For Lucas on October 29, 2010.

Cara Nonna

Posted on June 11, 2013 Written by Tonya

So many times I wish I knew now what I didn’t know then about the limited time I’d have with my parents, so many things I wish I had asked, said and learned from them while they were both still here. Kristin of Two Cannoli is my guest today with a thoughtful letter to her grandmother, in which she explores this exact same thing.

Kristin has been an amazing supporter of Letters For Lucas and I am honored to have her here and if you don’t know her yet, don’t miss her touching post recently featured on The Huffington Post, The Things I Love About Bedtime.

Dear Nonna,

I made marinara sauce tonight; Giada’s recipe. I know, I know; it’s not like yours at all. I remember the tender beef that would shred with the slightest touch of a fork, or the richly-flavored potato you added to the sauce early in the day – the one I always claimed at dinner. I remember watching you form meatballs with your strong, capable hands, even into your 80s.

The problem is that while I enjoyed your cooking very much, I didn’t pay attention to how you did it.

The family cookbook doesn’t help, because it gives instructions like “pour some good oil in a pan” and add “a roast” and then “add two boxes of Pomi tomatoes and season.”

What’s “good oil” and how much do I need?

How big is the roast?

How long do I let it simmer?

I found the Pomi boxes; now how do I season the sauce?

I wish I had appreciated the cooking process and not just the eating process. I wish I had asked you to show me how you made your meatballs, and your perfect marinara, and the strufoli. Or the cannoli.

Or even the milk-marinated veal parmigiana I used to love until I revolted as a teenager and refused to eat veal. I wish I could take back my words and hide the veal in a napkin instead of causing that look of hurt on your softly-lined face.

Now that I’m married and have a child of my own, Grandma, there are so many things I want to ask you.

Did I tell you I love you enough? Did you know how much I enjoyed visiting you? Did you understand when I sassed you? I also want to know more about your childhood, and how it felt when your mother passed away and what your two stepmothers were like. I want to know what it was like to have my mother, and what it was like to be a woman in the 30s and 40s. I want to know how you fell in love with my grandfather. I want to know more about your passions, and your hobbies, and your dreams.

You died before I knew the questions I wanted to ask.

A couple of weeks before you passed away – in your sleep, peacefully – you handed me your wedding ring. When I wear it, I feel you near me.

Your great-grandchildren know who you are, because we have photos of you all around and we have told stories about you. We talk about your generosity, and your sense of humor.

We joke about the nicknames we chose for you and about the way you fell asleep in front of The Wheel of Fortune every night. “I’m not sleeping; I’m just resting my eyes” became our punch line when we wanted to tease you.

There’s so much to discover, Nonna. I wish you were here not only to teach me about the sauce, but to teach me more about life.

I miss you, and always will.

Love,
Kristin

Nonna and Kristin’s first niece – 1999

Follow Kristin on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter.

Inquiring Minds Want To Know

Posted on May 22, 2013 Written by Tonya

The first time Lucas asked about my parents, I totally and completely froze. I chickened out and just said, “they’re not here”.

Granted, he was only 2 1/2.

I wrote about being better prepared the next time he inquired here.

Since then, there have been a lot of conversations about my parents being in heaven, but each time Lucas’ questions get harder and harder.

Tonight was no different, except that I was in another room sobbing as I overheard Lucas and my husband, my amazing husband have a conversation that I won’t soon forget. It went something like this:

Lucas: When will Mommy’s mommy and daddy come down from heaven?
Todd: They won’t, they live in heaven now.

L: For how long?
T: Forever.

L: Forever?
T: Yes, forever.

L: Will I ever meet them?
T: No.

L: Have I ever met them?
T: No, but if you had, you’d remember. They were perfect.

L: Is heaven a planet?
T: Sort of.

L: They died, right?
T: Yes.

L: How?
T: Someday Mommy and I will tell you. [We have not shared the details of my parents deaths with Lucas, but if you don’t know, read this, For My Broken Heart]

L: Can dead people live on Earth?
T: No

L: Did they drive to heaven?
T: No.

L: How did they get there?
T: They died and their spirits just sort of floated there and that’s where they are looking down on you and watching you live your life.

L: And I’ve never met them?
T: No, but trust me, if they could meet you, they would be here in one second. They love you very much.

L: Do they love Mommy?
T: Yes.

L: Do they love Aunt Leah?
T: Yes.

L: Do they love you?
T: I think so.

L: Do they love Charlie?
T: They never met Charlie.

L: They didn’t?
T: No.

L: Oh. Well, I miss them.

Let’s Here It For June!

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