I was texting with a friend the other day and I told her: I’m really a glass half empty type person, yet I’m not with this one thing.
The one thing doesn’t matter in this moment. However, I’ve been thinking about this glass half empty thing. It is true, I am. I don’t believe I’ve ever said it and really thought about what it meant. Right now though, I’m really trying to be a glass half full person.
Is it possible to change such a big thing in your personality? I’m 31 years old. Isn’t my personality pretty set? Do I get a say in this?
Every day for say the past month, when I say something negative, or think something negative, I make myself come up with three good reasons for whatever it happened to be.
When I look at the leaves changing colors, my first thought is DAMMIT, I hate winter. WTF? It’s the beginning of fall. Hell it’s been in the 80′s for a solid week. I then force myself to think about fall. About the pumpkin everything I can make. About sweaters, jeans and new shoes waiting to be worn in my closet. About Sunday’s spent lounging in PJ’s watching football. Halloween and Thanksgiving and the Macy’s Day Parade which I adore.
When I have to pay a very large bill that I wasn’t planning on, my first thought is about how much freaking money that is. OMG think of all the things I could have used that money for. Dammit, I wanted to do this, that and whatever with that money. Then, in my re-thinking, I tell myself, hey I had the money. I didn’t have to pull it out of savings. I didn’t have to use a credit card. So YAY GO ME!
It’s hard, but I’ve been forcing myself to do this constantly. I’m tired of worrying all the time. I’m tired of thinking out the five worst case scenarios to everything that comes up. Really people, it’s exhausting to be a glass half empty type.
Yet, I’ve been that way my entire life and I’m not sure that I can change it. I’d like to think that somehow I can. Is it possible to change in this way? Can I learn to be a glass half full person? Do you think anyone can? Well your guess is as good as mine.
I will keep trying. One small thing at a time. I guess we’ll see if it’s possible.
My bud,
Today** is your birthday. Today you are three. When I close my eyes, I see you as a tiny nerborny. You were the best newborn. Truly. I see the big ears that made everyone laugh. I see the dark curly hair that eventually fell out and came back blond and straight. I see my roly-poly cuddly boy.
Then I open my eyes and I see you as you are today. Big and strong. Full of words and stories. Opinionated and stubborn as all get out. Sweet and cuddly. The funniest little dude I know.
I like both realities. I love the you from then and I adore the you from now. Each day, you surprise me. Every day I love you more than the last, which I didn’t even think could be possible.
You want to be a baseball player when you grow up. You do not understand why you are not grown up enough to play now. After months of fighting me, you decided being potty trained was cool with you. All it took was a week with grandpa, peeing on trees. We moved out of the Cars phase and straight into the Toy Story phase. Luckily this one isn’t an obsession. You’ve finally learned to sit long enough to realize that you loved books. You love nothing more to help me do something. Anything.
You are big. Very big. All boy and no more baby. Just remember that to me? You will always still be a tiny bit of a boy to your mom.
Happy birthday my bud. I love you to the moon and back.
-Mama
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Cuddled in bed…
My bud can’t you just stay two and tiny like this forever?
No mama, I tant.
Why not buddy?
*heavy sigh* I has to get SO MUCH BIGGER mama, so I be a ball pwayer.
Ah yes. I see. Baseball.
Baseball bery bery important mama.
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To pretty much everyone we saw on Saturday:
Today my birfday. Tomorrow my birfday too. I have wots of birfdays.
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I just need sum wuvin mama.
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At the park, pointing to the prairie dogs in the field:
Mama, wookit at all those pop dogs.
**Half written yesterday…I just neglected to finish it. Yesterday, Harrison turned three.
I love fall. I love the change of season, the crisp morning air, the leaves changing colors. However? I really love fall for it’s new TV. I’m one of those people who puts any new show that looks half way decent in my DVR. If I don’t like it after an episode or two, I delete it. No harm, no foul. You never know what you’ll find by doing that. To be honest, I tend to find maybe two new shows a season. One always ends up canceled. So it works out well for me, because I get bored with old shows and I just plain stop watching them after a while.
So far this week? I’ve seen Unforgettable, Revenge, Up All Night and Two Broke Girls.
Revenge? Eh. Seems all soapy and I doubt I’ll watch it again. Unforgettable seemed good, I’ll give it another try. I may like it mostly because I like the woman in it. Poppy something. But hey, I’ve loved shows for less that that reason. Up All Night was pretty painful to watch. I deleted it from my DVR. Two Broke Girls? Hysterical. Will it stay that way? Oh who knows. However, I literally spit water out at one point from laughing so hard. That is the mark of a good show.
I added Hawaii 5-0, which I only saw two episodes of last year, but I like it. I still have a few new ones to see and judge later. Charlie’s Angels for one. Will it probably be horrible? Yes. But I have to see.
I’m seriously looking forward to Amazing Race, Grey’s and Top Chef, which comes back in November.
I have to say…I think I’m over Private Practice (yes, I know it hasn’t started yet), all versions of CSI (which I’ll likely still record and watch anyway) and Modern Family. I know, I know…I just don’t find it that funny anymore. I didn’t laugh last night at all. Shrug.
So…what have you loved? Hated? What are you adding of new shows? Am I the only one who gets seriously addicted to TV in fall and then stops watching much of anything by winter?
It’s still dark. Sigh. I’m awake too early. I reach for the phone. 5:32 am. A bit over an hour early. If I fall back asleep now, we’ll all be late. If I stay awake, I’ll be sleepy by noon.
Reach for the phone. I look at Twitter. Emails. WWF. I don’t say anything or do anything, I just look. Close my eyes and roll over. Sleep would be nice.
Gah. Okay fine, I’m awake. What’s on my list today? Work, work and more work. Ice test #2 at SB. Starbucks mmmm. Maybe I’ll get a treat today. Oh I HAVE to sign Bailey’s permission slip for the art museum. Vet at 4:30. Man there is something odd about that dog right now. Sigh. I hope it’s nothing.
My head hurts. Today will be long. Maybe I should get up and shower. Be ahead of the day. Nah. Close my eyes and roll over again.
Mumford and Sons. Alarm. Hit snooze. I have two more after this. I really should get up.
Oof. Hi son. Bubs do you have to jump on me? I am awake. See, my eyes are open. I’m awake I promise. Want to cuddle with me? Okay. Food it is.
I guess it’s time to get up.
This is part of Just Write #2
The other day I was looking at posts from two years ago. Is it weird that I barely recognize myself from that time? I was a complete mess. I had good reason to be, there was a lot of stuff in my face that I had to deal with.
Here I sit though, two years later and I wish I could go back and tell myself that it’d all be okay. That’d I’d be okay. That I would make it to the other side of that hell that I found myself in. It’s not that September two years ago was all bad. There were some great moments. I met my best friend in Vegas for a girls weekend. My son turned one years old. But holy hell that was a hard time in my life.
September now is different. I am different. For the first time in years I feel in control of my own emotional well being. I haven’t had a panic attack in I don’t remember how long. While I may be dreading winter, I have faith that I will make it through winter in one piece. I can’t say that I never freak out at stupid shit, but hey, I’m a woman. It’s bound to happen from time to time. The difference? I don’t let it stop me from living. I don’t hide in bed anymore. I don’t stop talking to my best friends anymore. I’ve worked my ass off to get to this point.
I am loving fall. I love having my windows open and my AC off. I love shopping for fall clothes for myself and the kids. I love fall TV, watching football on Sunday’s and putting chili and cornbread back into my meal rotation. I love our schedule right now. I’m making some changes that will be big…hopefully.
It’s been a long two years. However, I’m proud of how far I’ve come in two years.
So cute. I wanna squish her. But not in a Of Mice and Men kinda way.
Yes. Next is food marriage.
She looks like half a pup. Papa says she looks like a military dog. She’s Lil Gibbs now.
That is the mark of a truly great vacation. Insanely irrational children.
I was just sent to my room. With a sandwich. I was having a tantrum.
It looks like Sanford and Sons out there.
I just told the lady taking my blood that I was 4 ft, 5 in.
My dog is a Kermie killer.
Getting my cable service changed. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, it’s because this creepy dude killed and dismembered me.
That would be tragic. If it happens though, can I have your sarcasm?
I’m already home. I followed a police caravan going really fast.
God I wish we lived closer. We could force our children to be friends.
Yep. At least it’s not the Mexican Traveling Circus.
Yes. Like a nasty evil not so fairy godmother.
I suppose I should get this donut show on the road.
My head hurts so bad I just want to go to bed. Instead? I’m sitting here arguing with children about how spaghetti sauce won’t kill them. This is their point. Death by sauce. Seriously.
You have to hit the TNT.
Feels weird to be here without you.
I should have included that in the BFF contract. I want to be there.
When I come there I am bringing glitter crafts and Play-Doh.
To Jenna’s right? Because I’d hate to not let you in.
I am going to hollow out books to smuggle them the Play-Doh and Glitter.
Sushi = bait. Me no likey.
I turn on the bath water for Harrison. Add a cap of bubbles. Throw in a few cars. Once the tub is halfway full, he jumps in. I turn the water off and start the shower for Bailey. I love that we have three full bathrooms in this house.
Shampoo the boy. Shampoo the girl.
I’m sitting on the floor. Writing this post on my phone. What did we do before smart phones I wonder.
Get up and add conditioner to Bailey’s hair. Sigh. Morgan could do this by seven right? Don’t compare them. Does no good. She’ll get it when she’s ready to get it.
HARRISON! Stop drinking the bath water! I swear to god he’s like Justin’s cats. Hmmm, maybe I should just turn on the water for him a bit.
Ha. Morgan used to drink bath water too. Weirdos. I gave birth to weirdos.
Eyeball the laundry on my bed. I could fold it. I should get up and fold it. I need to clean the kitchen too. Maybe I’ll just sit here. FOOTBALL! I’m tired.
Morgan: mom smell my breath. I’m clean but it still smells like syrup.
I don’t want to smell that nasty syrup. BRUSH YOUR TEETH! *shudder* Dam I hate the smell of syrup.
I wish we’d had singing toothbrushes and kid toothpaste when I was a kid. Oh god, now I sound old. Uphill to school both ways, five feet of snow. HAPPY! We were happy about it. Heh.
Bailey didn’t get dry again. She’s like a little boy.
Okay. Must get up.
Come on my bud, bath time is done. No. No more minutes.
/end
**This was part of Heather’s Just Write prompt. Feel free to join in yourself.
Most of you may have heard/read/seen this elsewhere already, but last week Anna from An Inch of Gray lost her 12 year old son Jake in the flooding in VA. The previous day had been his first day of 7th grade. Today, she is burying him. I have no words. Nothing I can say is enough. I don’t know her well, but I have met her. It doesn’t matter though. As a mother I can’t even begin to understand her pain. No words can tell you how heartbroken I am for her.
I spent the weekend holding onto my kids as much as humanly possible. I took them to the park, I bought them new Wii games, I let them have sleepovers in my bed, I gave them ice cream multiple times. Mostly though? I hugged them until they squeaked. Because sometimes, this is all you can do.
My heart today is with Anna, her husband Tom and their daughter Molly, as they do the unthinkable. If you have a prayer to spare, I’m sure they could use them today.
Ten years. It’s been ten years. Sigh. Ten years and I still remember every time I happen to look at a clock and it says 9:11. Am or pm it doesn’t matter. I always remember. Every. Single. Time.
I’m posting this again. I’ve posted it for years and as long as I have this blog, this post will go up in some form or fashion every year. Because this man deserves to be remembered. Hero’s always deserve to be remembered.
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Posted last year:
Years ago, I signed up for the 2,996 project. The idea was to write about someone who died in the World Trade Center on September 11th. We were each given a random name of someone we’d likely never even heard of. The idea was to give each of them a face. To help the world see, that these were not nameless strangers who lost their lives that day. They were loved ones, friends, family, people we’d all know. They each could have been our neighbors.
We wrote to honor them. We wrote to remember them.
It worked. At least the remembering part. I hope it honors them as well, but I do know that I remember.
The name I was given was a man named Thomas J. Kennedy. Tom. He was a husband, a father, a son, a brother, uncle and cousin. He was a firefighter. One of a group of guys from Ladder Company 101 in Brooklyn, who all didn’t make it home that night. He died how he lived, a true hero.
This man, he got into my heart. His story, his life, has touched me forever.
Last month, when I was in NYC, my friend Kari and I walked from Battery Park to where the towers once stood. We stood there in awe. It’s shocking to see for the first time. To imagine how in the world two huge towers could have ever been right there. We told each other our stories, where we’d been on that day. How we both were up early and happened to be watching the news, as the second plane hit. Which might not seem that strange, but the time it was in California when it happened, makes it a chance occurrence. We told each other about the people we knew who should have been there, but managed not to be. Again, more chance. I told her how scary it was for me, 6 months pregnant to wonder what type of world I was bringing my daughter into. As we stood there, I remembered Tom. I stood there, in that spot, looking at the skyline, looking at the construction and the fence with the photo of what will be there next year and I remembered Tom. I thought about him that day. I’m thinking about him today. Each year on this day, I promise to think about him. To wonder about his wife. To hope his boys are growing up to be strong, solid boys that their dad would be proud of.
Today, just like last year and previous years and next year as well, I honor Thomas J. Kennedy.
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When I signed up for the 2,996 project, I had no idea which name would be sent to me. I didn’t know if I’d get a man, woman or child. I didn’t know if that person would be young or old. From America or from another country. It didn’t really matter to me. I just wanted to be able to remember someone who was no longer here. I wanted to be a part of something wonderful. I feel that this tribute is wonderful. When we talk about people who are no longer with us, it keeps their memory alive. At least that’s what my mother always told me and I have no reason to doubt this.
What I didn’t know in accepting a name was that the person would get into my world. The name I though I was getting, became a person. A man, with a life and people who loved him. A man, not to much different from my husband, brother or dad. And he got in. I let him in. As I searched the web for him, I found more and more. Just small things here and there, but the pieces came together like a puzzle. As I found more pieces, I grew more attached. How funny to grow emotionally attached to a man you’ve never met. But I did anyway. That’s when I started getting worried about this post. Could I do it right? Could I make you feel the way I do about this man? To care about him, even thought you’d never heard his name? Well, I’ll have to give it a try.
Thomas J. Kennedy (Tom) was born on January 24, 1965 at 12:45pm. He was born in the car right in front of the hospital. His parents, Eileen and Bill had trouble getting there in time because of a bad snowstorm. He had two older brothers, Brian and Bob. He had blond hair and “the bluest eyes in the world” according to his mom. She also has said on his memorial site that he was funny, always cracking jokes and a gentle patient man who everyone loved. His father, Bill said that he loved all babies and kids and they tended to gravitate towards him, because he spoke to them like they were adults. He also loved to ski and be on boats.
Tom was married to a woman named Allison and had two baby boys, Michael and James, who were two and 10 months when their father died. He was a hands on dad who loved to spend time with his boys, bathing them and reading them Goodnight Moon every night. This is the same book, I read to Morgan and Bailey. I read somewhere that he wanted to have five kids, but two was all he was around long enough to have. His eyes lit up every time he told someone about his boys. His aunt said she’d never seen him happier than on the days his sons were born. He loved being a husband and father.
Tom was at the World Trade Center that day because he was a firefighter with the Ladder Company 101 in Brooklyn. His company was one of the first on the scene because their firehouse was just across the east river from downtown Manhattan. There were seven guys “brothers” who went in together. None of them made it out. They all died heroes, having saved many lives that day. Tom when in to try and save more people, when the towers fell. He died doing what he loved, what he lived for. Even before she knew what had happened to her husband, Allison knew that he wasn’t afraid to go into the fire. She said “they were all excited to go into the fire. That’s what they live for.” “They didn’t have fear, that we as civilians would have. They didn’t ever think they wouldn’t come out of a fire, ever.” He had no way of knowing that September 11th, 2001 would be the last day of his life. That it would be the last day he’d ever see his wife and sons. That he’d die a hero. And I can’t say it for certain, but even knowing it, he may have gone in anyway. It is what firefighters do. He was a firefighter, it is their job to protect people. They all know the risk. Everyday when they go to work, they are putting themselves at risk. For us. For people who they don’t know.
Everything I read about Tom was a glowing memory of his life. People he’d saved through the years. People who thought they were going to die, but instead he came to their rescue. Some called him a hero, others an angel. There were stories from family and friends. Stories about fishing with nephews, playing hide and seek with his nieces, skiing with friends, being there for his family. Everyone said how wonderful his boys are, that his wife is doing a wonderful job with them. There are wonderful stories about her too. People say that their son Michael looks like her, but James is the spitting image of him. People tell stories about the boys too, how big they are, smart and sweet and caring and how they are each others best friends. I’m sure Tom would love to know that. In fact, he probably does.
Tom never saw his youngest son walk. Never walked his boys into pre-school or kindergarten. Never taught his boys to ride bikes, read, catch fish. He’ll never get to teach them to drive or how to be nice to girls. He won’t be there when they get married and have babies of their own. Thomas J. Kennedy was a father, husband, son, grandson, uncle, nephew, friend, firefighter and a hero.
Tom did indeed die a hero, but he was a hero in life too.
I remember being grouchy that they wouldn’t stop talking on the radio when my alarm went off. I changed stations three times trying to find music, before I finally listened to the words. Babe come listen to this, I called to Logan as he was about to step into the shower. The first plane had hit the WTC. Dam, I bet that pilot was drunk or something. Yeah he said, something like that for sure. Oh my god, think of how many people are at work already. It’s three hours later there.
I remember getting up and turning on the TV. Something I NEVER did in the morning. I wanted to watch the news. I turned it on just in time to see the second plane hit. We sat there on the couch and held my stomach. Like somehow we could protect our unborn child that way.
I remember the phone call saying, stay home for now. LA is a possible target and they’re closing our buildings. Knowing that I worked in the “twin towers” of LA was something that didn’t pass my attention. I remember the phone call from my dad saying, Randy is fine. He was in the subway, because the nanny was sick. He’s alright…but half the people he works with were not so lucky.
I remember Logan agreeing to name Morgan what I wanted that night as we lay in bed pondering what kind of a world we were bringing our first baby into.
I remember walking on the deserted beach the next day. That week LA became like a ghost town. LA as a ghost town was something I’ll never forget. I remember flinching each time I heard a plane for weeks. Crying every time I turned on the TV, until Logan finally told me I was only allowed to watch DVD’s until the baby was born.
I remember the hope, the love and the feeling of community that I felt for the first few months after. The feeling like we will be okay. We will come back stronger than ever. Sadly, I also remember when that feeling went away.
I’ll never forget. I’ll always remember. The people who lost their lives that day deserve to be remembered. On the 11th, I’ll post about one of them. Just as I have for the past five years.
I remember.
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