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Baby Tenderlove

Posted on June 2, 2015 Written by Tonya

I wish I remember the story of how I got my Mattel Newborn Baby Tenderlove dolls.

I must have been two or three and I think my parents bought me one and my grandparents sent me the other, probably for a birthday, but it might’ve been Christmas.

My mother announced that I had twins! What fun, two of the exact same dolls.

I named them Susie & Sally.

They have been given horrific haircuts, chewed and written on. All signs of true love.

When I pulled them out of a box buried deep in our garage, I cleaned them up with a Clorox wipe, washed their hair and clothes. My mother made the dresses they are wearing. One of them was still in a diaper made out of Kleenex and when I removed it, it practically disintegrated.

These dolls are over 40 years old.

I don’t know what ever possessed me to save them, but I’m glad I did because Lola is now their loving caretaker.

She won’t get in her crib without them.

My little Muffet sleeping off an awful cold with Susie and Sally at her side.

10 Things My Parents Did Right

Posted on March 23, 2015 Written by Tonya

It’s easy to hold my parents up on a very high pedestal since they are no longer living, but they really were good people. Warm and funny and able to talk to anyone. They dedicated their lives to educating children all over the world and always made me feel special. They did a lot of things wrong but they also did a lot of things right.

10 Things My Parents Taught Me:

1. How to be a good friend.
My parents taught me how to be a good friend, trustworthy and honest and always have a strong moral compass. They showed me the importance of sticking up for the underdog while treating everyone with kindness and respect. They also taught me to practice hospitality. The door to our house was always open and my family loved to entertain guests and made anyone who entered our home feel comfortable.

2. A love of reading.
My parents instilled a love of reading in me early in life. The walls of our home were lined with books, my first word was “book” and I remember getting my first library card at the age of five.

3. Respect for myself.
A small example of this would be that a boy should never honk the horn and expect me to come running out to his car, he should get out, walk up to the door and greet my parents. This only happened to me once.

4. How to have fun.
I was taught that there is a time for work, a time for play, and maybe even a time for both.

5. Compassion for my fellowman.
My parents gave when they were able and taught me that I should always show mercy and kindness towards other people and treat them in a way that I want to be treated.

6. A love of school and learning.
My parents taught me to value education and to excel in school. Maybe because they were educators themselves, but I have always loved school and hold a very special place in my heart for teachers.

7. A love of travel.
My parents decided to work and live overseas when I was seven-years-old and we never looked back. Their career spanned almost 30 years in seven different countries, many of them third world. My childhood was spent in four different countries and seeing so many different cultures was an amazing way to grow up. I have had the “travel bug” forever and continue to enjoy long journeys to far away places in large part due to my mom and dad’s adventurous spirit.

8. Argue in private.
I can’t even count on one hand the number of arguments I witnessed my parents having, although I’m sure they did. They weren’t perfect but to my knowledge they kept that side of their marriage separate from me.

9. The art of conversation.
I swear my mom and dad could talk to anyone! They always expressed an interest in my friends and it was important to them to get to know them, even some of the unfavorable boys I dated. My father was particularly comfortable with strangers and curious about where the people he met came from and what made them tick.

10. They let me go when I was ready to leave.
As a mother myself, this must be the hardest parenting task there is. And also the most critical. My mom and dad did it beautifully and continued to love me unconditionally and support the decisions I made as an adult.

I miss my parents everyday and wish so much that they could see me as a mother. I wish I could turn to them for parenting advice. I draw on how I was raised to raise my children and I can only hope that I am doing it right.

What did your parents do right?

Why Sending Thank You Cards Is So Important

Posted on March 19, 2015 Written by Tonya

Lucas and I were in the car discussing our weekend plans. We had swim lessons, a soccer game and two birthday parties to look forward to.

Since starting kindergarten, he has been invited to 10 or more classmate’s birthday celebrations.

We started reviewing all the different fun parties he had attended this year and what the themes were. To five- and six-year-olds the theme and location are just as important as the flavor of cake and the guest list. I suppose that could be said for 40-somethings too.

All of a sudden and completely on his own Lucas recalled that of all the parties he has attended, he has only received two thank you cards.

Two.

Two acknowledgements.

Pitiful.

I’m not trying to throw anyone under the bus, I know parents get busy, it’s often a fight to get a child to sit down and physically do the work, but it’s necessary. It is a simple, kind gesture that shows appreciation and gratitude. Attributes our world is truly lacking.

Writing thank you notes is a skill that every child should learn as a part of their upbringing. I did. I hated every minute of it, but I’m instilling it in my children and nothing lights up a child’s face more than receiving mail!

Before Lucas could write, I’d have him color a picture to accompany a note I had written and then we graduated to scribbling his name at the bottom of a note I had written and now we talk though two-three sentences and he writes his own cards. It’s a painstaking process but he has a sense of pride and accomplishment once the task is completed.

I know that fill-in and pre-printed/personalized cards are available, but we use colored construction paper and crayons.

Perhaps a warm hug and genuine “thank you” in person is enough? I don’t think so, but don’t take my word for it….

My friend, Tracy of Sellabit Mum wrote a great post called How to Write a Thank You Note a few years ago that I highly recommend and another friend and family physician, Dr. Gilboa posted a YouTube video, Teach Kids How to Write a Thank You Note where in less than one minute she explains the three parts kids need to write a great thank you note, and why we should bother.

Do you have your children write/send thank you cards? Why or why not?

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.

Why You Should Volunteer In Your Child’s Classroom

Posted on March 6, 2015 Written by Tonya

The smell of construction paper, crayons and glue evoke so many memories for me.

They smell like childhood.

But for me they also smell like the many hours I worked in my mother’s elementary classroom after school on weekends. She’d have me trace letters and cut them out, put together reading packets, correct homework, organize her in-class library and anything else that she needed. We’d listen to music and work the afternoon away.

Until this school year I hadn’t spent much time in an elementary classroom. They are such bright, cheerful places and in addition to the fond memories, I love volunteering in Lucas’s Kindergarten classroom! I wish every parent could take this opportunity.

For some parents the thought of volunteering in their child’s classroom is scary, but making this contribution can be very rewarding for both you and your child.

If your schedule permits, why not?

Why you should volunteer in your child’s classroom:

It makes my son’s entire week when he knows that I will be spending time in his classroom. He feels special and I know I’m sending a very positive message to him that I care about his class, his teachers, his friends and his school.

There is nothing better than getting first-hand knowledge of what is going on in your child’s class and witnessing their teacher in action.

Spending time with and getting to know the children your child spends a good part of their week with is priceless. These are his friends, maybe for life. No more blank stares or asking, “Who is Matthew again?”.

Working with other students helps you realize that your child is right where they need to be. What other classmates may be struggling with or excelling at can give you great insight into your own child’s progress.

Teachers need help! Often times after working in Lucas’s classroom I get a big hug and a thank you from Lucas’s teachers. They are grateful for my help and I always leave feeling good about myself, even if all I did was filing and cutting strips of paper.

And I defy you to spend time with a bunch of insightful, cute, silly and full of life five- and six-year-olds and not leave feeling better about our world.

Old School Blogging: Reflections

Posted on January 14, 2015 Written by Tonya

I’m linking up with Elaine of The Miss Elaine-ous Life for a little Old School Blogging and today I’m doing some major reflecting on jobs I’ve had, idols, personal accomplishments and my last meal….

Who do you idolize?
The 15-year-old in me wants to shout Dave Matthews because… Dave Matthews.

The mother in me wants to say my fertility doctor because… Lola.

But really, anyone who has more creativity than me, whether it’s artistically, or musically, someone who can look at the contents of my refrigerator and cupboards and come up with an amazing meal, people that can draw anything other than a stick figure, people who are kind beyond measure and go out of their way consistently to do things for others, people that write and speak effortlessly and with passion and conviction, these are the people I idolize.

What is something you are really proud of that you have accomplished?
I hope it goes without saying that I’m really proud of my children and my marriage (most days).

I also love that I have kept up with an exercise regime that works for me and makes me feel good. I walked 534 miles in 2014!

I’m proud of the many 5Ks I’ve participated in, the one half-marathon and three (!) Susan G. Komen 3-day walks.

I’m really proud of the infertility column I wrote for SheKnows. I shared what I was experiencing on a day-to-day basis with my own struggle and it was always from my heart. I know that my words helped other women battling infertility and hopefully still do.

I’m proud that I submitted and read a piece I wrote in front of a large audience for Listen To Your Mother two years ago.

What is something that you are not so proud of?
I am not proud of my behavior sometimes. I hate that I get to a point with my son where I yell. I hate yelling!! We seem to be having a listening problem.

I have a tendency to be selfish and fly off the handle, as they say. My husband gets the brunt of it and it’s completely unfair. I’m working on my patience level and lowering my expectations.

Who was your best friend when you were 5, 6, or 7? Tell me something about them.
Charmaine was my first sleep-over-mimic-the-dance-moves to Grease 2-shaved-my-legs-with-for-the-first-time real friend. We met in second grade while both living in Karachi, Pakistan and are still friends today. She lives in Holland and I haven’t seen her since 1985 but I love that we have kept in touch over the years.

What is one thing you wish you could still do but may seem impossible right now?
A really good cartwheel or the splits. For as much yoga and other exercise that I do, I am so not flexible.

If you could chose it, what would be your last meal?
Filet Mignon with peppercorn sauce, my husband’s twice-baked potatoes, steamed broccoli, a glass of The Dreaming Tree Cabernet and cannoli for dessert.

What are two or three jobs you’ve had that you liked?
There are aspects of every job I’ve ever had that I really enjoyed. Mostly the people and relationships, and there were aspects that were downright awful. Mostly the people. Just kidding. I’m most grateful for working in publishing at two different companies, Fancy Publications and Crain Communications.

I think my favorite job was my early years of working in an advertising agency. The creativity and buzz was electric and I really felt a part of something special. It was my dream job. I thrived on the impossible deadlines and late hours, until I didn’t.

What is one job that you did not like?
The first job I accepted out of college I hated mainly because of the bitchy women and I worked with and also because I was asked to change my name. Long story but there was another Tonya on staff so I went by my middle name. It was a stupid and regrettable decision on my part.

What is your least favorite chore around the house?
Hands-down unloading the dishwasher!

How tall are you? Do you wish you were taller? Shorter?
5′ 7 1/2″ and I’m okay with it. I haven’t always been, especially when dating shorter guys.

How old are you? What is something you have learned in those years that you want to share?
I am 42 and a 1/2 and yes, the half is still important to me today as it was when I was 5 and a 1/2!

I’m still learning, but one thing lately I know for sure is that when being seated at a restaurant, it’s okay to say, “I don’t want to sit here, can we find another table?”.

I also cannot implore younger women enough to take care of their skin… sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen! Apply it everywhere, not just your face but your entire neck and upper chest. I wish I had started that process a lot earlier.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown more comfortable in my skin and with my body and that is something I never thought would happen.

What is one of your favorite quotes on love, life or motherhood (choose one)?
I am a collector of quotes so this is nearly impossible to answer, but one that I come back to over and over again is: “And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful then the risk it took to blossom.” – Anais Nin

But I also love: “Always be a first rate version of yourself, and not a second rate version of someone else.” – Judy Garland

And there’s this one: “The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.” – Laura Ingalls Wilder

Love

Posted on December 22, 2014 Written by Tonya

I thought I knew love.

I experienced my first crush in the second grade. Every time I saw him or was near him I would burst into giggles and so of course, I avoided him like the plague.

In sixth grade, my crush made my palms sweaty and I did everything I could to be near him. He and I shared a single kiss, a peck really and it turned my world upside down.

In the seventh grade I was “going out” with a ninth grader. We held hands and waited for one another by each others lockers and thought I was pretty special. Little did he know, I had a crush on his best friend.

As a ninth grader, I was kissed (among other things) for real and thought it was love.

As a sophomore, I lusted after someone I couldn’t have and whenever I saw him felt butterflies in my tummy. He smelled like Drakkar Noir and I doodled his name inside tiny hearts on the inside covers of my notebooks. I probably stated dating an older boy who went to a different school because he wore the same cologne. We would spend hours on the phone talking about nothing and I thought it was love.

When I met the first boy/man I thought I was going to marry I couldn’t even articulate what I was feeling so that had to be love. I identified with every love song on the radio and it was as though a light bulb had gone on in my heart. We were polar opposites but this is it. This has to true love! Our relationship latest three years, however, looking back, that two years too long.

My heart literally skipped a beat and I stopped breathing for a full minute when the first man I loved asked me to marry him. We had survived a year long long distance relationship and lived together, broken up and found our way back together. Eventually we were married. It was wonderful for a while, but fundamentally we were too different, wanted different things from life and in hind insight should have remained friends. He’s a great guy and we are still in touch.

I was lucky enough to make it down the aisle a second time and I couldn’t have been happier. I held on to my father’s arm, surrounded by all of my favorite family and friends and said “I do” to the most amazing man I had ever met. My soul mate. My other half, my plus one, the one I was meant to be with.

Through my 20s and 30s I thought I knew all there was to know about love. Turns out I really didn’t have a clue.

I would never claim that one cannot know love until they have a child because love comes in many forms – gay, straight, unrequited, platonic, even puppy love.

But the love of a child? That’s different.

It became crystal clear to me the moment I became a parent how much my own mother and father cherished me.

These two little people… my son and my daughter, they have cracked open my heart in intricate ways it has never known before and revealed to me true, unconditional, pure love and I will never be the same.

Another Mother

Posted on December 9, 2014 Written by Tonya

My mother died seven years ago but I have always missed her.

I think about my mother a lot during the holidays. She adored Christmas with a childlike glee, made the best chocolate chip and sugar cookies and could wrap a present like nobody’s business.

I wanted another mother.

I discovered at the tender age of 14 while getting ready for my first boy/girl party that the mother I had was never going to be the mother I needed. After helping me put together an outfit and apply the slightest bit of makeup, she said flatly I “looked fine” and shooed me out of her bedroom.

I was confused and hurt.

My mother was aloof and far way, indifferent and quiet. I tried like hell to get inside her head but she had no interest in self revelation or sharing herself with me. Or anyone, but perhaps my father and sister.

We struggled.

We struggled to communicate with one another, we struggled to relate to one another, we struggled to look each other in the eye. There was always a gaping distance between us. It wasn’t tension as the result of a big blow out, we simply had nothing to talk about. I remember a four-hour car ride we took together in which maybe ten words were shared.

Even after years of knowing what I would encounter each and every time, I still kept hoping that she would change. That she would let me in.

I needed a mother who was present and engaging, hands on and expressive. I wanted the kind of mother my friends had. One who was interested and interesting. I knew so little about the woman who raised me.

For years I thought if I could just find the right way to talk to her, she’d open up. Every question I asked lead to a dead end so eventually I gave up.

Things weren’t as quiet when my father was around and especially if my sister was present. Both served as buffers and provided topics of conversation.

As an adult, before both of my weddings and once on a very long family road trip I wanted to confront her but I chickened out because I was afraid of her response. My ego couldn’t handle more mommy disappointment. What could she say to me? “I’m sorry, I did the best I could.”? I didn’t want to hear that. Of course, I don’t know what I wanted to hear.

While I once thought my mother and I were as different as night and day, now I’m not so sure. Now that I’m a mother myself I feel like I know her in a whole new way. Is that crazy?

This was a stream of consciousness post written in 15 minutes with very little editing. My relationship with my mother is a topic that I could go on and on about as I try to dissect it, what I wish it was and how I find peace with it now that she is gone.

On Turning 30

Posted on May 11, 2014 Written by Tonya

My sister, Leah turned 30 in March (I’ve been working on this post since before then!) and that’s huge! I am happy for her and the new decade that lies ahead. Everything seems to be going really well in her life right now.

There are almost 12 years between me and my sister and it has been both a delightful and sometimes agonizing process to watch her grow into the woman she is today.

Our parents would be very proud of her and how strong our bond is as sisters.

As I wrote in Leah’s birthday card, I remember turning 30 and what a strange, sad and yet magical year it was, not to mention the nine that followed.

In some ways it seems eons ago and in others as though it were just yesterday.

I celebrated my 30th birthday with family and what I thought at the time were close friends surrounding a tepan table. I don’t remember any gifts I received that night but I distinctively remember feeling equal parts anxious and excited about the next 10 years of my life.

I talk to no one who was at that dinner today except my sister. My (at the time soon to be ex-) husband and in-laws were there and several people that are now only “Facebook friends”. The two most important guests were my parents and they died five years later during the not so magical part of my 30’s.

I was 30 when my first husband and I parted ways, I started wearing clothes that fit me because I was finally comfortable with my body, I had a job I adored at an advertising agency and I met and made friends with women that I couldn’t have imagined would become so important to me in the next decade and the one after that. I lived alone for the first (and only time) in my life and loved every minute of it!

Before I turned 31 I would meet my now husband and experience love like I had never known, but before that I would curse the time I wasted with my ex because I thought he was “The One” and my only shot at having a family. Clearly I was delusional. I also had other demons to fight and I struggled to find solid ground in the workplace and my bank account. 30 (and beyond) is when it all came together for me, I was no longer a child and came to understand that life is not always fair and that’s okay. Fair doesn’t leave any room for grace or mercy.

Happy Birthday, again, my sweet Leah. I hope your decade is off to a exceptional start and only gets better.

Leah & I celebrating her 30th birthday at Little Sister, Manhattan Beach – March, 2014

A Delightful Find

Posted on April 16, 2014 Written by Tonya

My mother was an elementary school teacher which is probably why she was so crafty, but not just crafty, she was creative. Although long before she was a teacher she made things.

She could wrap the most beautiful and unique looking presents with ribbons and bows and freehand draw anything.

I recall a spider ornament made out of pipe cleaners that she designed and mass produced for several school Christmas bazaars. I never got the spider/Christmas connection, but it was a huge hit.

When I was little, my mom handmade a lot of my clothes, all of my Halloween costumes and before you ask, yes, there were several mother/daughter ensembles. She made clothes for my dolls and even Barbies. I can’t even imagine sewing anything that tiny. I would spend hours in fabric stores with her looking through giant books of sewing patterns and fingering cloth for weight, texture and durability. Thirty years ago, patterns were $1.25 or less so I’m sure what was an enjoyable hobby was also a cost effective way to clothe her family.

I remember being fascinated by her sewing basket. It was filled with straight pins, scissors, the regular kind in various sizes and pinking shears, which I loved but was forbidden to touch. There were also needle packets, measuring tape, chalk, seam rippers, thimbles, buttons and spools and spools of colorful thread.

Does anyone sew anymore? Like with a needle and thread or a sewing machine? My grandmother had an entire room in her house devoted to sewing, crocheting, etc. I can barely replace a button and if I craft with Lucas, I have to follow directions provided by someone else. Apparently, I did not inherit the crafty gene and I do not own a sewing box.

My mother also dappled in ceramics, or rather used a mold and painted mugs, (see my past post Ceramic Mugs) knick knacks and because she loved decorating her home like her classroom, holiday items; including these decorative Easter eggs I found in my Easter stash.

I had forgotten all about them.

The eggs are rudimentary but whimsical and fun and I’m thrilled to have them.

Finding items like these amidst my own, items that were once my mothers, especially things that she made make me maudlin and miss her terribly.

Baby Tenderlove

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