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Dancing In My Heart

Posted on January 24, 2012 Written by Tonya

I am delighted to have Kim of Mama’s Monologues as my guest for Letters For You today.

Kim has three boys, a baby on the way and yet still finds time to write from the heart and occasionally enlist her husband in some of the most hilarious vlogs for VlogTalk!

Kim is here today with an endearing letter to her grandfather, a man she clearly admires and misses every single day.

Dear Pop-Pop,

It’s been over 6 years since we’ve said our goodbyes. Some days it feels like you were just here with me. Other days the pain is so fierce and so strong that it feels as though it’s been a lifetime since I have seen your face.

I miss your smile and your deep hearty laugh. I miss your confidence and your sureness.

I miss our talks and your advice. I miss your eagerness to hear the next tale from my heart.

I miss our rides on the Ferris wheel, being stuck at the top, overlooking the ocean. I miss feeding peanuts to the seagulls on the boardwalk. I miss being taught how to play Frogger on the Atari in your rec room.

I miss hearing about our family history, your war stories, and how you fell in love with Mom-Mom. I miss watching you do the Mummer’s strut.

I miss hearing you rant about the Phillies losing to the Mets, calling them bums, declaring you’ve given up on them, yet tuning in to the very next game routing them on.

I miss watching your eyes sparkle as you watched my first born play. I miss watching the love radiate from you in complete awe of him.

There are so many things that I miss about you, Pop-Pop.

But most of all, I miss that you are not here.

I wish you could have been there to see me walk down the aisle on my wedding day. I wish I could have danced with you that evening.

I wish you could be here to meet my youngest boys, and in a few months, hold the newest addition to our family.

I wish you could be here. To hold, to hug, to talk to, to share with, and to love.

But I know that in a special way, you are. You’re here watching us, guiding us, and smiling down on us.

So for now, I will celebrate. Celebrate the life you led, the love you gave, the joy you brought, and the legacy that will live on.

Pop-Pop, I love you, with all of my heart and soul. Thank you for being who you are and loving me for who I am.

I hope you are dancing with Mom-Mom up there. You will dance in my heart, forever.

Love always,

Your granddaughter

Blah, Blah, Blah

Posted on January 17, 2012 Written by Tonya

Everyone knows Liz, she is the wonderful voice behind a belle, a bean & a chicago dog and co-founder of Eli | Rose Social Media, LLC, the most helpful social media Web site around!

I am very proud to have Liz as my guest today with a letter that I hope she will STRONGLY consider hand delivering the next time she encounters this out-of-touch, insecure, boastful mom.

Dear Mom at Gymnastics,

Sitting up in the viewing area, I hear moms make what I’d consider to be unnecessary comments about their kids from time to time. You can tell when some moms worry that others are seeing their child perform not at their best during gymnastics class. Not that I condone that behavior, but it’s something I can tolerate.

You and your over-the-top bragging, on the other hand, are completely intolerable. I feel sorry for the woman you vaguely recognized and then lassoed into a 15 minute show-off session about how amazing and out-of-this world spectacular your 7th grader is. I also feel sorry for your younger daughter who was trying out that gymnastics class; you made it very, very clear that she is your “difficult” child because her grades and lesser number of extracurricular activities aren’t as impressive as your 7th grader’s.

It’s such a shame when one of our children doesn’t make us feel like an incredible mom when we talk about them, isn’t it?

Now for your 7th grader? I don’t care that she’s (supposedly) never made even 1 B in her whole entire life. I don’t care that you want to send her to the most – in your eyes – prestigious private high school because “each student has their own counselor and by the time they graduate, they have a whole portfolio to show off to prospective colleges.” Oh, and thanks for mentioning that “everyone who goes to St. Agnes goes onto college because you wouldn’t go to a school like that if you weren’t.”

Competitive cheerleading? — Blah.

A role in a play? — So what?

You having her sit for the SAT even though she’s only in 7th grade “because colleges will start to track her now”? — You.make.me.sick.

You and your stuck-up 7th grader can gloat all you want because I’m putting my money on your “difficult” child being the happiest, most secure and most normal one in the bunch.

Chew on that for a bit, won’t you?

Signed,

The Average Mom who Feels Sorry for your Extreme Insecurity

A Moment Of Grace

Posted on January 10, 2012 Written by Tonya

I always know what I’m going to get when I visit These Little Waves; a welcome pause from my hectic day and demanding tot, a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart and a smile on my face.

Galit writes the way I hope to someday. Her words are tender and delicious, inviting and rich with description and full of life. Galit’s letter this week is no exception. I dare you to read it and not come away feeling a little warmer from the inside out.

I am very honored to have my friend here today sharing a single moment that helped her through her early days of motherhood.

Dear Beth,

I know that’s your name even though we’ve hardly spoken. Our teaching days were busy and our schedules were different, but I remember you.

We passed in the halls and nodded our Good Mornings. Your flowing dresses, plum colored hair, and black tinted nails a sharp contrast to my crisp lines and sharp edges.

You were vivid.

I think “new” is the best word to describe how I was then. New Minnesotan, new teacher, new mom.

Every week, my lesson plans were thoroughly penned and strictly followed. I wanted to know exactly what to expect – in everything I did.

Motherhood stretched that shade of my skin.

One time, you witnessed this.

Jason brought the girls to school for a visit

Kayli was three-ish and a rule follower, Chloe was one-ish and anything but.

She was mid-tantrum when you walked by.

Belly down, arms flailing, legs kicking, voice rising.

And I? Was lost. Blushing, sweating, tearing. Lost.

I was kneeling next to Chloe when the scent of your perfume, flowers and sunshine and all that is strong, caught me. In return, you caught my eye.

Shoulder back, chin up, smile wide. “Two?” You asked.

“Very.” I answered, brushing a strand of my hair behind one ear when what I really wanted to do was pull it forward, hide behind it.

But you didn’t let me.

You reached for my hand and said, “So been there.” And with one squeeze, you went on, your fuschia parting the way.

I’ve kept that moment of grace wrapped in my heart.

You opened my eyes, didn’t let me take myself too seriously, and reminded me of all that is kindness and all that is grace.

And for that? I thank you, and remember you.

Galit

The Golden Years

Posted on January 3, 2012 Written by Tonya

A couple of months ago, Rachel of Mommy Needs a Vacation shared a beautiful letter for my series, Letters For You called One Tear.

Rachel wrote a heart wrenching letter to her father, Stinson, whom she was afraid of losing the year before.

Stinson read his daughter’s letter for the first time the day it ran here was compelled to respond.

I am extremely honored to share his words to his daughter with all of you today.

Dear Rachel,

I’ve had a chance to read the letter you wrote several times today. Each time I read it, it brings me to tears. It is not only well written but so obviously heartfelt and sincere. It is a treasure I will covet the rest of my life.

I very much enjoyed this past week when all of you were here. It was a wonderful week in which there were so many special moments with each of you individually as well as a family as a whole. More times than I can tell you during this past week, I thought about the last time you were here with Sadie and Tyler (June 2010). That wasn’t nearly as good a visit because as you know, I was only days away from back surgery and in horrific pain the whole time you were here. It was almost impossible to enjoy the kids on that visit because of the pain although I do remember that the kids were both sweet in their own way and seemed to understand I wasn’t feeling good. There were times they each made me forget about the pain—Sadie asking if I had my yogurt and bread for dinner and Tyler crawling at the speed of light across the room after who knows what.

This past week was a stark contrast to your previous visit. Whether it was Sadie or Tyler asking to use my iPad, hugs in the morning and at bedtime, the expression on Sadie’s face when “driving” the golf cart or Tyler reaching for me the afternoon I got him up from his nap, so many moments generated special memories of fun times and represented the blessings of a life I almost lost. Sharing some of the best wine I have collected over the years with you was something I had dreamed about when you were Tyler’s age but little did I know at the time that the enjoyment of wine would become a shared passion.

Playing golf with you and Josh was something I couldn’t have fathomed in June 2010. Getting to play golf with Josh so many times during the week was wonderful not only because it was fun but because it was special to spend some one on one time with my son-in-law and rejoice in the fact that he is the father of my grandchildren and husband of my daughter. More times than I can recount, you confirmed how good a mother you are and why you have been one of my most cherished pride and joys for over half of my life. I shall never forget the expression on your face when Sadie and I walked in from “playing” golf. You could tell we had a great time before anything was said and without saying so, your expression revealed that you knew she had enjoyed the time with her grandfather.

Life is a gift that becomes more and more precious with time. When you come as close as I did to losing it, as you so aptly expressed in your letter, it becomes all the more precious as experienced last week. Your mother and I are, I suppose, in what is often called the “golden years” and you, Josh, Sadie and Tyler are a big part of why they really and truly are “golden.”

I love you all,
Dad

One very happy grandpa, Christmas 2011

My Sweet Ethan

Posted on December 27, 2011 Written by Tonya

Many of you may not know this, but Natalie (Mommy of a Monster) and I go way back. In a former life, long before either of us had children, let alone a blog, we used to work together at a very hip advertising agency.

I liked Natalie from the moment I met her and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was the human resources manger and we were reviewing my new employee paperwork.

Natalie is “good people”, as they say and we connected on may levels, but most notably through our love of reading. We exchanged books back in the day and have shared must-read titles ever since.

We have long since moved on from the agency and started families and the rest is sort of cyber history. While we may have lost touch over the years, I am proud to call Natalie a friend and confidant and I am overjoyed to have her close out my Letters For You series for the year.

Natalie is a good mom, too and her letter to her eldest son, Ethan is heartbreaking and chocked full of mommy guilt. I know I can relate, can you?

My Sweet Ethan,

I can’t believe how big you are already. It seems like just yesterday I found out that you were growing in my belly, our tiny miracle that we had been waiting for after so many years of trying to have a baby. You are and always will be my true love and the biggest wish that I ever had granted.

Four years old. Already.

I have a confession to make to you right now, one you won’t be able to understand for many, many years. I feel like I am a bad mom. I feel like I’m neglecting you somehow, not giving you the time and attention you need and deserve. Your sisters are only two years old, and they demand a lot more of my attention throughout the hours of the day. I know I say “not now”, “later”, and “I’m too tired” way more often than I should, and even more often than I’m sure you want to hear.

Sometimes, after your sisters have both spent the last thirty minutes taking turns throwing fits while I’m in the middle of cleaning or cooking dinner, you ask me for something…sometimes it’s something as small as a quick read of your favorite book or for me to turn on your favorite cartoon. And I snap. I snap because I’m tired and at the end of my rope. You don’t understand any of this, and I am working on reminding myself of this and reprimanding myself when I realize that I’ve done it yet again.

I need you, my sweet boy. I want you to always love me and feel comforted by me. Yet I’m afraid that I’m pushing you away. I am having a hard time trying to figure out how to give you and your sisters all that you need without losing the person that I am. I don’t want it to be this way. I am really trying to be more patient and to give you more of me. Please know how important you are to me and how much you mean to me. Please know that I am doing the best I can. Please know that being yours and Lila and Mia’s mommy is much harder than I thought it would be. Please know that I want to be a better mom and that I want to be able to give you my all. Please know that I know that I’m not succeeding right now, but that I really am trying.

Please know that I love you with every ounce of my soul.

Someday, you will be a dad and I am sure you will nod your head as you are reading this because you will understand. Until then, I promise you that I will try harder. I love you, E.

Mom

To My Mother-In-Law

Posted on December 13, 2011 Written by Tonya

Jessica of Four Plus an Angel is one of my favorite bloggers.

Her loss is as deep and wide as her strength is fierce and admirable and her words never fail to take my breath away.

I am so honored to have Jessica here today sharing a letter to her mother-in-law.

To my mother-in-law,

I wonder how common it is for women to feel the tug to write to their mother-in-law as I do. Our relationship is certainly not average and, although there are many things I wish were different between us, there are no limits to what I want to thank you for.

Your son rarely talks about his childhood. I never push but once in a while find memories to paint my own picture of the mom you were. Our similarities begin with steamy mugs of tea and getting lost in books and I wish I knew where they end.

As much as I live my life through the written word, I find myself at a loss in trying to explain my gratitude to you. I remember the first memory my husband shared of you, reaching for your wig after a fall, not wanting your children to see you in such a state.

Seeing your son in my sons allows me a glimpse of the childhood you watched unfold and I wonder if there is a time you knew. If there was a day you looked at your son and knew you would never see him graduate or you lifted your daughter and knew you would not choose her next Christmas dress. I wonder how you lived with such pain and yet left your son with only visions of your strength.

In so many ways I feel I know you, although we have never met. The respect for women you instilled in your son, the familiar red hair that streaks through my daughter’s curls and the amazing pieces of your nurturing my husband delivers carefully to our own children.

Navigating the intricacies of motherhood, I am in awe of the legacy you left behind. That the path you started for your son led him to me and to fatherhood and to unending patience and overflowing love. That the love you were able to pour into a fraction of your children’s lives has carried them to the point they are today.

I can only imagine the mother you must have been and the grandmother you are to my daughter, as she sits contently in arms that were empty for far too long.

Sending you so much love,

Your daughter-in-law

My favorite picture of my mother-in-law, visiting Santa at age 4.

Dear Pops

Posted on December 6, 2011 Written by Tonya

I love Katie and one of the highlights of my year this year was not only meeting her at BlogHer but rooming with her too. I adore her easy going personality and her beautiful words at Sluiter Nation.

I am so very pleased to have Katie here today with a touching letter to a father-in-law she never had.

Dear Steve…

No. no. that is not right. Let me try again.

Dear Slippery…

No. That is not right either.

Dear Pops…

That is better, I guess. Though I never was able to get comfortable calling you anything. That time was stolen from both of us.

It’s not fair that you were taken less than two months after I joined the family.

But you know that too. So I am not going to spend time on it.

I want to tell you things. I often start, but don’t know how to continue. I never got that one on one time to find my voice with you. I don’t know what our conversation would sound like.

I want you to know that Cortney is doing everything he can to make you proud. He takes care of me and his siblings. He reaches out to both his sister and brother to let them know he is there for them. He keeps up with his step-mom the way you wanted.

And last Christmas he was there to be the head of our family when your dad…our Gramps…died.

He knows he is the eldest generation now, and that is a heavy load to bear.

But he is not the last.

I want you to know about your oldest grandson, Eddie. But you already know about him, don’t you?

I know that you do because I see your silliness…your dimples…your spirit in him. I know Cort does too because it makes him smile a sad smile at times.

And I get a feeling Eddie knows you too.

Maybe it’s the way he points you, Papa, out in photos.

Maybe it’s how he tells me Louis, the cat, went to live with Jesus…and Papa…in Heaven.

Maybe it’s just the look in his eye.

Often times, Cort teases Eddie and tickles him until he gasps for breath, and when I tell him to stop, he says, “my dad did this and I lived.”

I know he thinks of you often and wishes he could go through this dad thing with you by his side. I know he would like to show off his boy to his dad.

Especially because we’ve got another son on the way. Charlie will be here in March.

Two Sluiter boys to carry on the name.

Will Charlie be as “Sluiter” as Eddie is?

Will I see you in the sparkle in his eyes too?

Will I see the past, present, and future of both Cort and me all at once like I do in Eddie?

What I do know, is that I wish you were here.

For Cort.

For the boys.

For me.

I miss something I never really had.

A father-in-law.

Love,

Kates

A Letter To Santa

Posted on November 29, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am so excited to have one of my favorite bloggers here today with a letter to Santa!

This week’s Letters For You guest is the incomparable, Gigi, also known as Kludgy Mom.

Gigi is one of the most knowledgeable and generous bloggers I know and I’m proud to call her a friend and practically a neighbor. Okay, not really, but she does live in the same state and I am going to see her in the flesh very soon. Right, Gigi?!

Dear Santa,

Let me start this letter by saying thank you for granting all of my wishes from last year’s Christmas. Well, most of them anyway. I’m still waiting for you to eliminate the wrinkles on my face and the fat balls on my thighs. What’s the deal? Do you consider cosmetic items too vain?

So let’s get to this year’s list.

Gigi’s 2012 Christmas List

1. I wish that my children would give a crap when there is dirt under their fingernails and toenails. Also, that they would give a crap about flushing the toilet and not leaving toothpaste blobs the size of Kim Kardashian’s ass on the bathroom counter.

2. I wish that you could take care of that noxious smell that comes out of my elderly dog.

3. I have a few reality TV wishes. I wish that you could tell Mark Burnett to move Survivor back to Thursday nights. This whole Wednesday night thing really throws me off. Also, tell the producers of The Amazing Race to stop putting ex-Survivor cast members on their show. It’s getting old. Can you tell Padma Lakshmi of Top Chef to stop talking like she has a giant piece of salami shoved between her top front teeth and the inside of her lip? And what can we do about Giggy on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? Because that dog bugs.

4. I would appreciate very much if you could have that PR person for Avon stop sending me requests to publicize their really odd singing contest.

5. I wish that our neighbor across the street, who my husband has affectionately dubbed Hillbilly Bob, would only park 3 cars in front of our house each night instead of the current 6. If this is not doable, can you please have one of the 6 cars “accidentally” run over our other neighbor’s Basset Hound, who howls mournfully nonstop from sunup to sundown? Thanks.

6. I wish that pedicures would last forever, my roots didn’t need constant touching up, there was one pair of jeans in the universe that fit me well, and there was no need – ever – for a bikini wax.

7. I wish that you could arrange for there to be no more Elves on the Shelves. I’ve already disappointed my children and dashed their Christmas hopes by forgetting to move Mr. Snowflake last night. I simply can’t handle the pressure of moving that damn thing every night for a month. Plus, the elf is creepy. Also, why are his legs glued together? He should be poseable, like Gumby. Or Barbie, but without the boobs.

8. I wish that my husband would just get the idea that I love presents and that even if he doesn’t want a present on a holiday, I still do. And I want it to be fabulous (meaning, not wrapped in a Wal-Mart bag).

Well, Santa, I guess that’s it for this year. I hope you don’t think I’m greedy. I tried to keep my list to only the bare essentials. I know you’re really busy, so, feel free to skip getting my kids anything this year so you can devote time to my list. I’m sure they won’t mind!

Hugs and Kisses,
Gigi

Letters To KLZ

Posted on November 15, 2011 Written by Tonya

My Letters For You guest this week is the very pregnant KLZ, otherwise known as, Kristin, who writes the hilarious blog Taming Insanity and if that isn’t enough, she is also one of the co-founders of Eli Rose Social Media.

Plus, she can rock a pair of reindeer antlers like nobody’s business!

Dear 8 year old self: that perm is a terrible idea. At least do us all a favor and if you do forge ahead and get it, please destroy all visual evidence.

Dear 13 year old self: just because you saw a model wear nearly black lipstick does not mean it is fashionable nor does it mean you can pull it off. You’re making an ass of us and you’re too stubborn to admit it.

Dear 16 year old self: stand up for yourself now or your feelings will get so pent up that they’ll explode. Trying to be “nice” is going to backfire.

Dear 17 year old self: I didn’t mean stand up for yourself quite that much. That’s what I meant about things backfiring. PS the shade of lipstick you’re wearing now is fine. Keep it.

Dear 18 year old self: yes, your hair has some wave but you can’t pull off “curly” or really even “wavy”. You are the only one buying this hairstyle as legitimate.

Dear 20 year old self: get over him.

Dear 21 year old self: slow down. Bigger things are coming.

Dear 23 year old self: marry him. Even though he’s going to make you want to stab him sometimes, you will get back more than you ever expected.

Dear 26 year old self: you’re welcome.

Dear 28 year old self: you’re overwhelmed because you take too much on. You expect too much of yourself. Also, you’re welcome.

Dear 30 year old self: no big deal.

Dear 39 year old self: be careful. You have a teenager.

Dear 40 year old self: still no big deal.

Dear 50 year old self: Seriously, this age stuff is no big deal. What is a big deal is that some of your kids are out of college now.

Dear 53 year old self: If you’re concerned about the way that your ass looks, go to the gym and quit whining. Even I can’t stand listening to you.

Dear 67 year old self: Life happens outside of books too. Be sure to get out there and live, you dumb slut.

Dear 80 year old self: You better not have messed this up for us.

Since You’ve Been Gone

Posted on November 8, 2011 Written by Tonya

My Letters For You guest this week is my sister Leah, who also blogs at L.A. ‘n’ L.A.

Our mother would have celebrated her 62nd birthday this week and here is a letter to our parents.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I miss you both every day. There’s nothing in life that I want more right now then to see the two of you. A couple weeks ago was the fourth anniversary of your deaths. It frightens me how long you’ve really been gone. You’ve been gone for 1,486 days of my life so far.

There’s so much that I want to tell you. There’s so much that you have missed.

Ultimately, I believe that your deaths changed me. I’ve grown up since you died. I guess I had no choice. I honestly don’t think that I’m your “Little Leah” anymore.

About two years after you died, I moved to Los Angeles. It was time for a change and as you know, I had wanted to move here for a long time. Something else pushed me into moving and that was that Tonya had a baby! That’s right, your oldest daughter has a beautiful baby boy who I cherish more than anything in this world. He brought me back to life after you died.

Lucas is his name and he has your eyes, Daddy. I take so much pride in being his aunt and I do my best to make sure he knows how much he is loved. Tonya and I talk to him about you both all the time and he recognizes your faces in pictures. At 2 years old, there is no one that can make me smile quite like Lucas. There is no doubt in my mind that you would have made excellent grandparents and I’m sorry that you didn’t get that opportunity.

It’s still crazy to me that my big sister is a mother. You would be so proud of her. She’s amazing. Tonya manages to not only be my key support system, but also the most incredible mom. She is so patient and loving. It’s unfair that you are not here to witness her shine in this role. I think that it would have rejuvenated your relationship with her, mom. I really do.

Without you both here guiding and supporting me through life’s ups and downs, I have leaned on Tonya at times of need. I do my best to listen to her and trust her advice. Of course we aren’t perfect and we still bicker from time to time but I do think that we are becoming better sisters and better friends all the time. There is no one that I would have rather had at my side when you died. I like to think that we get each other through the bad moments.

Since moving to L.A., I have struggled to get a job in the music industry. After you died, the economy took a plunge and the music business has been weakened. Finally this past August, I landed a job at a small radio marketing company. I also nanny for a family and have even discovered a new calling in the photography world. I have made some incredible new friends and have even found many high school and college friends that live here in L.A. too. Simply put, I am happy with my life here and I’m so glad that I moved here. Through it all, each day, I strive to make you proud of me. I try so hard to be the daughter that you thought I was becoming. I often wonder if this is the life that you hoped that I would have at 27 years old.

Even after four years, I still catch myself questioning if you are both really gone. I look for signs of you everywhere. I can’t hear a Beatles song, eat a Snickers, walk by a Build-a-Bear store, drink a Diet Dr. Pepper or do so many other things without thinking of you two. I’m touched every time someone says that I remind them of you.

I’m still so angry at you, or rather the hot water heater in your house. I was robbed of so much time with you. It breaks my heart thinking that you won’t get to meet my future husband, be at my wedding or play with my children. These are just the big events. The little ones hurt just the same. I hear people talk about what awful relationships they have with their parents and how they aren’t close. I understand now that what we had was rare. I was very lucky to have such close relationships with you both. Of course, mom, you and I both know we had more. We were best friends too. I literally can’t breathe from sadness sometimes when I think of how much I miss you in my life.

I feel like an orphan. I don’t think that is going to ever go away. It’s a title that I’ve somehow gotten used to and I’m alright with that. If I had one more hour with you both, all I would tell you is that I love you more than words will ever be able to express. I am so eternally grateful for the life that you gave me. You are in my heart today, tomorrow and always.

Lovingly your daughter,
Leah

August 4, 2007, one of our last family photographs.

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Dancing In My Heart

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