Search Results for: 20 questions

Ebony & Ivory

Posted on November 18, 2010 Written by Tonya

We learn to live, we learn to give each other what we need to survive together alive. – Paul McCartney

I’m burned out.

Firstborn, middle born, last born, only child, or twin.

How two people that come from the exact same parents can be so completely opposite of one another is baffling to me.

In my sister and my case, I blame our age difference.

For as long as I could remember, I wished for a little sister and then when I turned 11, my wish came true. And before you ask, my sister was completely planned; the 11 year age difference and everything. My mother even had her IUD removed in order to conceive her. TMI?

My parents were no strangers to age gaps; there were 13 years between my father and his eldest brother and eight between him and his middle brother. There were six years between my mother and her brother.

Whenever my parents were asked why they waited so long to have another child, the response was that they wanted to be more financially stable. Fair enough, I suppose. I didn’t care, I finally had what I had always wanted.

I remember every detail of the day my sister was born. It was magical and hectic and so exciting. Up until the birth of my own son, it was one of the best days of my life and nothing can compare to being old enough to witness the joy and pride in my parents over the new addition to our family. It was written all over their faces for the nine months leading up to Leah’s arrival and it was understood that our household would never be the same.

As I was entering high school, she was starting kindergarten.

As I graduated from college, she was struggling with her math homework.

As I was going through a divorce, she was buying a prom dress.

As I was busy building a career, she was trying to figure out what her major would be in college.

As I was a newlywed for a second time and she had just graduated from college, we both lost our parents.

As I was preparing to have a baby, she was trying to start her career.

It’s sad to think that our lives will never catch up to each other and while we may experience some of the same things years a part, it was only with the deaths of our parents that they were derailed at the exact same time. Only we know what it feels like to go through something like that. Our memories of our parents are different in some ways, but our love and loss is shared.

While Leah was in college, our parents still lived and worked overseas so I became, for lack of a better term, her surrogate mother. This is not a role that I have ever been completely suited for nor enjoy all that much.

Never the less, I answered the phone in the early morning hours, waited for the texts they said she landed safely, replied to the numerous questions about growing up, life after living under your parents roof and members of the opposite sex and offered advice, whether solicited or not over money management, career opportunities and portraying a positive, wholesome image. I did this through her four years of college and still do it now.

I’m tired of being the older sister.

I have my own child now.

I’m burned out.

Over the years we have shared many laughs and good times. We’ve gotten more than a little pissed off at one another, especially lately.

We are true sisters and I love Leah with all my heart.

After 26 years later, while I can’t imagine my life without my sister in it, I honestly believe that the 11 years between us has been detrimental and I can’t help but wonder how our relationship would be different, better even if we were closer in age.

My sister and I are in need of a long, heart-to-heart, an open, honest, most likely with raised voices, possibly four letter words and maybe even some tears conversation. I’m dreading it, but it’s overdue.

I feel a tremendous amount of pressure and responsibility.

I want to redefine my role.

I’m burned out.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #1: Why are your burned out?

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Being There

Posted on November 9, 2010 Written by Tonya

One of my favorite blogs is Sherri’s Old Tweener. She is a self proclaimed “forty-something mom looking for humor in everyday life” and the way she writes is not only witty, but extremely heartfelt and very relatable.

Sherri is a loyal Letters for Lucas reader and comments on almost every one of my posts. Her words always make me feel better about myself, what I’ve shared and what I’m going through as someone who still considers herself a new mom.

If you don’t already follow Old Tweener, you should and if nothing else, please check out one of my very favorite posts, Exit Interview. It’s a superb look at the changing role of mother as our children grow up.

I am honored to have Sherri guest posting for me today on what she wish she had known when she first became a mother. Thank you and cheers, Sherri!

Reading Letters for Lucas always takes me back to those early mommyhood days, and I love how much heart and honesty Tonya puts into her writing. I was so happy when she asked me to do a guest post! I tried to imagine what advice I would give her, as an old mommy to a newer one, if we sat down for a virtual glass of wine.
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When my son was first born and I was wading thigh-high in the overwhelming details of new motherhood, there were some things I thought were so important. Things that if done properly, would ensure that my little guy would be the perfect child.

You know which child I am talking about. They are usually seen only in tear-jerking movies or in commercials for diapers or baby food. They smile on cue, are early readers, easy potty-trainers, sleep through the night from the start, and never drool or blow out a diaper.

Now I know that child doesn’t exist. What a relief.

I wish someone had told me that sooner, rather than me having to spend the better part of 16 years to come to that astonishing conclusion. That some of the things that seem so important when you have small children really don’t matter. Things like:

Developmental Milestones

There, I said it.

Did you know that some of these milestones have huge windows during which they can happen? I didn’t. And I spent a lot of time observing my kid, other kids, reading mommy books, and making lists.

Get a bunch of infant/toddler/preschool moms together and the topics turn rather quickly to milestones. Has yours rolled over? Crawled? Babbled? Got teeth yet? Used a straw? Written his name? Dressed himself? Learned Morse code? And so on.

And for the most part, kids find their own way of doing things; maybe not even in the “right” order. Unless it really seems like something to consult your pediatrician over, it seems like a lot of these can just be things to let go.

My son never did a “true” crawl; his style was more of a butt-scoot with crazy legs and arms propelling him all around the house. He went on to actually walk, ride a bike, run, and develop the standard teen slump in his shoulders. Talking? I don’t think he’s ever stopped. And while he does now dress himself, I would like to see more of his clothes in the hamper than on the floor.

Academics & Preschool

As soon as the toddler phase started, along came the whole academics phase. Unfortunately, this phase is still going on at my house, and will continue as he goes off to college next fall. It starts with letters, colors, sounds, naming things, and just explodes from there.

I worried about selecting the best books from the library, reading him Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein, teaching him all the right names for the dinosaurs, and sending him to the right preschool. Did it matter in the end? Not really. What mattered was that I spent time talking to him, reading to him (whether it was Sports Illustrated, Garfield comics, or Dr. Seuss), being involved, and answering his questions. So many questions. And now that he’s a teenager, the preschool he attended doesn’t matter at all. Nor does the fact that I actually pulled him out of preschool the spring before he went to kindergarten because I decided he didn’t need it. And he was fine.

Stuff

We all want the best for our kids, and at no time does that ring truer than when we buy them stuff. I really, really wanted the right stuff for my son…whether it was the Little Tikes car he could drive, the adorable playhouse, or the dinosaurs he obsessed over.

And now? All that stuff is long gone or crammed into boxes in the attic (if I can’t bear to part with it just yet). I think what really mattered wasn’t so much that he had the latest and greatest toys when he was little, but just that he had things to spark his imagination.

Some of our best times were spent with sand buckets at the park or in the kitchen with utensils, pots, and pans doing a pre-Wii version of Rock Band. Sometimes I filled the sink with water, pulled up a step stool, and let him have at it. Food coloring in the water made it an instant ocean for his dinosaurs; bubbles made it a volcano; ice cubes were perfect for the polar bears.

Don’t get me wrong; I still bought him way too many things when he was little. Add the fact that he was the first grandchild/nephew on both sides, and he got lots of loot. And we had fun with it.

But looking back now, so much of it was overkill and unnecessary.

If I could go back and do the infant/toddler years again, I would:

Leave the dishes in the sink now and then. They aren’t changing, but the kids sure are.
Make a mess more often. Mud washes out, water dries, and paint fades. Memories don’t.
Cuddle on the couch when they want to. Because they won’t always want to.
Break the rules more often, just because it’s fun.
Be more spontaneous. I worried so much about my son’s schedule that we may have missed out on some fun things. Not anymore.
Remind myself that the days may seem long, but the years are short.
Laugh with them more. Even if I don’t think it’s that funny. Because it’s good medicine.

They fly through those younger years on jet-packs it seems, so put your helmet on and just be there. Because really? That’s all those little ones really need.

F-A-T

Posted on September 30, 2010 Written by Tonya

My mother was easily 150 pounds or more overweight my whole life.

Her weight was never an issue in our house growing up, in that it was never ever discussed. Yes, we were one of those families. No one monitored what was consumed, asked any questions or made any snide remarks.

Growing up, meals were “normal”… a meat, a starch and a vegetable. There wasn’t a lot of desserts, but we had a lot of homemade cookies, of the chocolate chip variety laying around. I don’t recall ever thinking my mother was eating more than she should.

Since my mother’s weight was never an issue at home, I was never embarrassed by her appearance. I do, however, remember feeling bad for her when she would get winded walking up a flight of stairs. I remember wondering how she would fit in a certain sized chair or a seat on an airplane. I never bought her a single article of clothing because I never knew her actual size.

Once while we were on vacation, my mother lost her balance and fell down five or six stairs. She had cuts and bruises all over her face, arms and legs for weeks. Fortunately, she didn’t break anything, but we were in the middle of the jungle in Madagascar, a 10-12 hour drive from the nearest city and she had to be flown back to our hotel and wait for my dad, sister and me to return the following day. That incident broke my heart.

My mother was an elementary school teacher, the smartest woman I ever knew and always carried herself with ease, dressing appropriately for her size. She wore a lot of primary colors and fun holiday-themed jewelery “for her third graders”, she always said. Even though she was heavy, she never “let herself go” and always wore a stylish hair cut and nail polish on her finger and toe nails.

I have seen photos of my mother before I was born and she wasn’t always big. In fact, she had a very slender frame until the Summer of 1972.

I still have no idea why she was overweight and unfortunately, I never will. She passed away in 2007 from unrelated causes.

I always thought, and she may have eluded to it ONE time, it was because she gained so/too much while pregnant with me, which made me fearful that the same thing would happen to me when I was pregnant. Some women take the “eating for two” literally and don’t take necessary precautions to nourish their babies as well as themselves in healthy and safe ways. I believe my mother was one of these women.

I know firsthand now how difficult it is to lose whatever baby weight is gained during those joyous nine months, especially with a brand new baby in tow. I am still struggling with five-eight pesky pounds myself.

In spite of or because of my mother I have never been overweight. Weight may be hereditary, but I just don’t think I could ever let myself get to that point. The point of being fat. On the other hand, I wouldn’t know what the worst diet is because I have never been on a diet. I guess I tried the Atkins Diet once for about 3 days, but who can live without bread?

Since I was in college, I have chosen to take responsibility for my weight gain and loss by exercising regularly. I keep a Excel spreadsheet of every mile I walk and calorie I burn on the StairMaster, Elliptical machine or stationary bike. I exercise so that I can eat the way I do and luckily for me, I enjoy sweating. I can’t imagine feeling healthy or happy without an hour at the gym several days a week.

I know where my problem areas are and try to work with them or camouflage them when necessary. I have sizes 6 through 12 in my closet and like everyone else, I have good days and fat days.

I LOVE to eat, but don’t gorge myself. I feel that I eat for sustenance and not just for the mere pleasure of it, unless of course it’s Trader Joe’s chocolate cover peanut butter cups or a glass or three of wine. I eat three square meals a day, rarely snack and consider myself a carb addict (hence the reason the Atkins Diet didn’t last long).

When it comes to my relationship with my body, food and exercise, I always think about my mother. I think, I don’t want to be 100+ pounds overweight. I want to live a long healthy life and I want to look good in my skinny jeans. And now, more than ever, getting and staying in shape is not just for me, but my son too.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #1 Describe the worst diet you ever put yourself on.

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24/7 Help Line

Posted on September 20, 2010 Written by Tonya

When it comes to raising a child and life decisions in general, I don’t know about you, but I’m growing tired of trusting my instincts, going with my gut, trial and error, lists of pros and cons and not knowing.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a service that would provide all the answers we seek?

Should we move?
Should we stay?
How can I help my friend/sister/nephew/cousin?
Will this venture be a success?
Is he/she The One?
Can this marriage be saved?
When is the right time to have a baby?
When is the right time to have another baby?
Will this be a successful pregnancy?
Will it be a boy or a girl?
When will I stop feeling so sad/tired/burned out?
Should I go back to work?
Should I stay at home?
Will I ever see Paris?
Shall I go left or right?
What awaits me on the other side?
Why?

A magic crystal ball for life is what I’m talking about.

I’d even pay for it.

I’d pay a lot!

And I know I’m not the only one.

I’d also travel a far distance for the answers.

It would be like visiting the Wizard of Oz, only he wouldn’t be a phony, or having a special 800 # to a technical service life help line. Can you just imagine the wait time?

He or she would tell you the absolute truth – good or bad and in your lifetime only a certain number of questions could be asked. Always one at a time and maybe, one a year or one each decade, or five in a lifetime. Of course, if you are willing to pay for the answers and wait on hold for hours on end, maybe you should be able to ask anything at anytime. That could get expensive quick.

Life. Why does it have to be so complicated sometimes? It’s full of so many decisions and unknowns, so many highs and lows and oh, so many mistakes. I guess that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?

I’d much rather have a crystal ball.

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We Will Never Forget

Posted on September 11, 2010 Written by Tonya

I just went through my September 2009 blog archive and for some reason, I didn’t wrote a post on September 11.

I wonder why.

“Where were you when you heard Kennedy was shot?” is one of the most significant questions for my parents generation and for mine, it will be: “where were you on 9/11?”.

Today is the anniversary of one of the saddest days in America’s history. A day that we will never forget.

Nine years ago terrorists flew two planes into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. Both buildings collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others. The hijackers crashed a third airliner into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. A fourth plane crashed into a field in rural Pennsylvania after some of its passengers and flight crew attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C.

There were no survivors from any of the flights.

In all, 2,974 victims were killed by the September 11, 2001 attacks: 2,750 connected to the World Trade Center, 40 in Pennsylvania and 184 at the Pentagon. Those numbers do not include the 19 hijackers.

The images plastered all over the TV for weeks following the attacks were like something straight out of a movie. They were graphic and sad; each image more haunting than the last… the planes hitting the towers, people jumping out of windows, smoke, flames and debris, frustrated and tired rescue workers and faces of the victims,

As I encountered these images again today, all I could think was how will I ever be able to explain this or any other tragedy to Lucas?

How do you explain the unexplainable? Especially when you don’t understand it yourself. 9/11 is a heartbreaking event and even more so to have to explain to your perfect little human that the world isn’t all as loving as the world inside our home.

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15 Months

Posted on September 7, 2010 Written by Tonya

Could I really have a 15 month old?!

Lucas, you are growing and changing every day and have most notably in the last month become quite the whirlwind of activity and curiosity without any sense of danger or fear. The word ‘no’ has become the most used word in our home. To say that you keep us on our toes, is an understatement.

You are also turning into quite the communicator with a vocabulary of over 25 words. I am convinced that you understand everything that is said to you and have started repeating us a lot too. Guess I better clean up my trucker’s mouth.

We have your 15 month check up tomorrow and as usual, I have a long list of questions to ask your pediatrician, such as:

What’s up with the wacky naps, inconsistent appetite and horrific temper tantrums?
Will my child EVER drink from a sippy cup?
When should we start working on potty training (God, help me!)?
When will you be ready to transition to a toddler bed?

I am certain that the good doctor will tell me all is well and not to get so caught up in the growth milestones or what my friend’s children are up to. Easier said than done.

This month also marked your first two skinned knees, another plane ride to visit grandma and grandpa in the Bay Area, the end of another round of Kindermusik, countless park visits, fun days in LA, the San Diego Zoo and Sea World and we also discovered one of our new favorite places, Kidsville!

Looking forward to see what 16 has in store.

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Miscarried

Posted on July 12, 2010 Written by Tonya

I can’t sleep.

I have too much on my mind.

I write this with a lump in my throat.

The day before Lucas’ birthday, I took a pregnancy test and it came out positive. We had only been “trying” for two weeks! Can you say fertile? Stranger things have happened…

Learning you’re pregnant the first time is one of the most exciting moments in a woman’s life. Not only is it a major milestone on the path of adulthood, it is one of the most joyous experiences you will ever have. I will never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with Lucas. I cried tears of happiness, excitement and fear.

Learning I was pregnant a second time was a little more shocking for me. I had just gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight and into my favorite jeans. The hair around my face was starting to grow back and I was FINALLY starting to get the hang of this “mommy thing”. The tears this time were out of pure disbelief. I was excited for sure, but also troubled by how our perfect little family of three was going to change drastically. I was mostly concerned with how this new addition would affect Lucas and how I might handle two under two. Doing the quick calculations, Lucas and his sibling would be almost 21 months apart.

I thought I was nine weeks along at my first OB/GYN visit when an ultrasound revealed that I was only measuring at six weeks. We were told we could have our dates off.

I’m pretty good (obsessive) with dates and knew deep down inside that something was terribly wrong.

Blood work was ordered to check my hCG (the pregnancy hormone) levels and more ultrasounds a week later. Unfortunately, my hCG levels dropped and we learned last Thursday that there had been no growth to the embryo since week six.

I had a terrific pregnancy with Lucas, (you can read all about my experience here) so why would I think anything would or could go wrong with this one? I certainly felt pregnant. I’ve been tired and famished and snarky.

But, in the end, my gut was right. There was something wrong and this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, we’ll never know exactly what went wrong (see #3 of my Friday Flip Offs for how I feel about that).

I never wanted to be a part of this group… a woman who has suffered a miscarriage and also a mother who is already blessed with the knowledge of the beautiful outcome of a full term pregnancy.

But here I am, a reluctant member with so many questions and so much sadness. Why did this happen to us? What went wrong? Did I do something different this time around? Will it happen again?
I know that miscarriage is far more common than we like to think and often times there are no answers. I’ll have to accept that. Eventually.

All I know right now is that this hurts, I’m sad and because I don’t want to wait around for my body to have a natural miscarriage, I have a D and C (a procedure to scrape and collect the tissue from inside the uterus) scheduled for this afternoon.

Please keep me and all of the women that have ever had to go through this in your thoughts… if just for today. Thank you. xoxo

This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).

If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is snarky.

Parenting Without Parents

Posted on June 19, 2010 Written by Tonya

I am parenting without parents. Are any of you?

People ask me about Lucas’ grandparents all the time. They know my husband’s parents live a two hour plane ride away and that we see them every month, but they don’t always know where my parents are. When I tell them, it always brings the conversation to a screeching halt. I hate it when that happens.

It’s always on my mind… my parents aren’t here.

My parents will never meet my son.

For those of you that don’t know, they both died almost three years ago of carbon monoxide poisoning. You can read details here.

A lot can happen in 32 months and every now and then, a little more than usual, (cue Lucas’ recent birthday, Father’s Day tomorrow and my birthday next week) I can’t stop thinking about, not only what they are missing, but what I am missing too. Can there be a statue of limitations on needing a mother even if you are a mother? I don’t think so.

It’s stupid really, I’m almost 38 and I have no one to call with my silly parenting questions. There’s no one to ask. Sure, I have a wonderful (much younger) sister, a loving aunt and uncle, a very smart mother-in-law, a supportive sister-in-law, who is also a mother of two and tons of amazing friends in the blog world and real life, but sometimes it feels like I’m flying solo on something I shouldn’t be.

To me, having a baby brings you closer to your own parents. You finally realize all the pain, suffering and worry they went through with you. Once you have a child of your own, you know just how much your mom and dad love you.

They should be here.

I should be having conversations about Lucas’ milestones, poop, food, toys and TV watching habits with my mom. I should be getting choked up over seeing my dad play with his grandson and rolling my eyes at them both when they try to put, yet another visit on the calendar. I should be asking them, “when did I do this, that or the other when I was his age?”.

It has only been one year!! How am I going to do this for the rest of my life? The rest of his life?

They would have been terrific grandparents.

Aside from two incredible people who built their lives around educating children, so much else was lost when my parents died; family traditions, history and a whole set of memories that I don’t share with anyone else but them. Whenever something crosses my mind that I think Lucas might be interested in or should know, I jot it down and more than once, I have poured my heart here. It helps, but I still miss them every day.

The best is yet to be.

Real Life Moms

Posted on June 14, 2010 Written by Tonya

Real Life Moms is a social Ning group lovingly created by Surviving Little People and is for real moms who are out there living life, raising children the best they know how and trying to see the world (and parenthood) with a sense of humor.

It’s a great place to go to ask questions, share stories, photos and connect with other real moms just like you.

I am thrilled to announce that this week, Letters For Lucas is featured as a Real Life Moms Blog of the Week! I love that I actually have readers out there and appreciate SLP for choosing me!

The best is yet to be.

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Laughter Is The Best Medicine

Posted on June 3, 2010 Written by Tonya

I had so much fun flexing my creative side last week for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop that I thought I’d give it another go. Let’s be honest, I also loved all the feedback! 🙂

This week, I’m tackling Prompt #1: Write about a time when you laughed at an inappropriate time.

From 2002 – 2005 I worked at a small boutique direct mail advertising agency for which I had a love/hate relationship. No other job has taken so much out of me, aside from being a mother.

As soon as I entered the office doors, I immediately fell under the spell and was captivated by the idea of “agency life”, along with the uber chic offices with ultra cool furniture, young, hip, energetic, like-minded staff and overall aura.

I soon learned that agency life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It’s very long hours with very little reward and no matter what, the client is always right and if the client wants to see changes to their piece and it’s 6:00 on a Friday evening, you make them and you stayed until they were acceptable. In other words, working here meant zero social life and a lot of fast food.

For the first year and a half, this fast-paced, often chaotic life style was okay by me because I had just gotten divorced, so I was able to pour myself into my job and became a machine. I often worked 10+ hour days, felt like I had finally hot my stride and was excelling professionally, but by my third year, I had grown disenchanted and the shiny offices started to lackluster, not to mention the micromanagement and annoying narcissism that was all around me. At this company, the sales team and their fierce leader ruled the roost and it was starting to get annoying.

I decided life would be better back on the client side, so I put my feelers out there and even had a couple of promising interviews. Low and behold, almost three and a half years to the day after I started, I was laid off along with 24 other employees.

I wasn’t so much shocked that I was being laid off, but in the way in which it happened. All 25 of us were summoned to the conference room and told at the same time. It was like a study in human behavior and what people do upon hearing the words, “Today is your last day here”.

I couldn’t help myself, I started cracking up. Inappropriate? Yes! Justified? Definitely! Maybe it was my nerves, anger, hurt, or the utter ridiculousness of it, but the whole thing seemed hilarious to me. One other girl, thankfully (or not) sitting across from me had the same reaction. We were in stitches and getting nothing but evil glares from the CEO as she, through tears informed us that this was “one of the hardest things she has ever had to do”. What a bunch of BS!

Other people around the table were crying and some just got mad, red in the face and started asking a lot of questions. The room was a mess!

In the end, I am grateful for the time I spent at this company and learned a lot while I was there and even still consider a few of my old co-workers good friends, but I lost a lot of respect for the upper management that day. To say that I think the way they handled the lay off was poor is an understatement. For such a small company (at the time, there were only 100 employees), they should have taken the time to talk to each of us individually.

I was thankful for the severance package and accepted a killer new job exactly four days after the lay off and you better believe it was on the client side!

The best is yet to be.

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Ebony & Ivory

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Being There

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