Cry, I’m going to cry. Like a big ole baby when I go into that doctors office today. Won’t be hard to do it, not with everything that’s gone on this month. I’m determined to get this baby out, one way or the other this week. Wish me luck, because I’m not sure crying will work on this lady. I may have to resort to not leaving until she says she’ll set up a time to induce.
UPDATE: Baby has been given pink slip. If not born by Monday, I will be induced.
Ok, so here’s the deal. My grandpa is dying. He is passing as I type this and my grandma is about three quarters of the way out the door to follow him. The baby isn’t here yet and I’m most likely going to miss both funerals. A baby and two funerals in a week. It’s going to be a long week. If the baby is born in the next day or two, I’ll go and join my extended family in Texas (not the evacuating portion, luckily) in paying my last respects to two of the most amazing people that I’ve had in my life. But my son is my first priority. I’ve tried to cajole him into coming, bribe him into coming and order him into coming, to no avail. I won’t force him, I just can’t handle doing that in this moment.
I am emotionally spent. I have nothing in me to say. Soon I will, but not right now.
Becky will let you all know as soon as the baby is born. She’ll post it here.
I’ll be back in about a week, once I’ve had time to process everything that is and will happen this week.
I’m going to post this tonight, just in the off chance that I’m not able to do so tomorrow.
Two years ago, I joined this thing called the 2,996 project. 2,996 people took a name and wrote about a person on their blog. Some of you may remember it, some of you might have been a part of it (Jennster, Becky, Alissa, Kristin?) and some of you might have no clue what I’m talking about.
We wrote about someone we’d never met. A man or woman, any race, age or religion; we didn’t know until we were given the name. The name was of a person who died on September 11th. Seven years have gone by since that day, but I’ll never forget. (It is weird to think that I could possibly have this baby tomorrow.) Two years have gone by, but I’ve never forgotten the man whose name I was given to write about. I will always remember him and wonder about his family. I will always hope that his boys grow up to be good strong men; men their dad would be proud of.
Agree with the war, don’t agree with the war. Obama or McCain; Biden or Palin. None of it matters in remembering the people who died on that day. This day is a day to remember the men, women and children who lost their lives and to remember the ones left behind.
This man, he got into my heart. I’d never met him and I’m sure I’ll never meet his family, but they touched me forever. We did it too remember and I know I always will.
Thomas J. Kennedy
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 also 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, brothers or dads. 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. (I found his mom’s email address, but choose not to bother her.) 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. I couldn’t find Michael’s birthday, but by guessing, I’d say he is 7 years old today. James will be five on November 17th. 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, we’ve read to Morgan and Bailey their entire lives. 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 seen 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 blurb 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. He would be 41 years old today. 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.
You want to know why? Because she is here to cook for me for the next TWO weeks.
That sentence alone could be the whole post for me. Like, hi my MIL cooks, the end.
I adore food, but um…I’m not a cook. I burn even the simplest things. In LA it wasn’t a problem at all, because you can order in (oh LA Bite how I miss you) every night. Not just pizza and Chinese, but from some of the best restaurants in LA. Delivered to your door in 40ish minutes. It’s one of the things I miss most.
I never had to cook. My kids used to think mommy cooking means, mommy makes cookies at Christmas. I am a phenomenal baker. I can make any kind of dessert; brownies, cookies, cakes. From scratch even. But I can’t cook. I make a mean cereal and Taqitos from the box. Truly, without fruit and veggies you can steam in a bag, my kids might never eat a balanced meal these days.
My mother in law is a chef. Like for a living. Can you hear me sqeee over the computer? She teaches classes (specializing in Italian food) at some of the best culinary schools in Los Angeles. But none of that matters. What matters is she is here to cook for me…ok and her son and grand babies. Homemade food.
When she arrived last night (by car, she is afraid to fly; well really she has to be drugged to fly.) I had to resist the urge to ask her to cook for us. We went out. She looked at me, looked at Logan and said, okay so tomorrow I cook…but thanks for not making me do it tonight. Logan was like, oh mom, you know Issa wanted you too. Luckily she knows her son well. When we went to college we (the collective we, which was about 6-8 people) used to go “home” about three nights a week. Which is kinda sad when you think about it. Most college kids won’t get a home cooked meal until Thanksgiving, but we all had one a few nights a week.
At the end of two weeks here, we will all be begging her to stay. Not just because we’ll be eating homemade Gnocchi, chicken Parmigiana and….oh wait where was I? Ok, so we adore her food, but we adore her too. I am so thankful that she’s here right now. I cried when she got here, I was so thrilled to have one of my moms here for me right now.
So yeah, the end. My MIL is here to cook for me!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m now at the point of a pregnancy that everyone despises. There are many reasons for this, I’ll give you a few.
1. Your brain is now mush, as you spend all your time, praying that you’ll go into labor. Yesterday we were about to leave the house and Logan says, Babe, you gonna switch your shirt before we leave? Turns out my shirt had been backwards for three hours. He’d have left me alone about it all day, if we weren’t going out in public. I have a smart husband.
The kids are always having to look for things for me, or go back into the house to retrieve things that I’ve forgotten.
2. People calling every day asking if you’ve had the baby yet. Honestly now, when I do, you shall be the last to know.
3. People asking, haven’t you had him yet? Yes, I did, I just didn’t lose any fucking weight. Duh, people. Come on now, don’t be that retarded. Unless you see a baby in my arms, I have had no baby yet.
4. You keep expecting the baby to just fall out, because he’s so dam low: Every time I bend over to pick something up, I think the baby is going to just go plop on the floor. Then I think, well that would be lovely and dang easy. Which if you think about it, is dam fucked up. But mostly it’s because he’s so dam low that the pressure is just insane when I bend over.
5. Random strangers always have something to say. This woman said to me, oh a boy, oh they are always late. Another said, I predict the end of the month. My own step-mother said, well labor with boys is extremely long and hard, no matter if you’ve already had kids. Really, all the time? I don’t think so.
6. I’m tired and uncomfortable and in pain and a dam big grouch. I’ve never been this pregnant. Technically, Bailey was born on a Sunday night and she was due the following Monday, so I’m only about 10 hours more pregnant than I was with her…but it feels like more. The boy is bigger than she was, or I’m bigger. Whatever. The end.
PS. Posting might be light around here until this baby is born. I’m sure none of you want to keep hearing, I’m not in labor and I’m a (huge) grouch, on a daily basis. If/when I go into labor, I’ll send a Tweet. Those of you who do not use Twitter, you can see the Tweets on my sidebar. I also think you can click the link that says, follow me on Twitter and it will take you to my page. You don’t have to sign up at all to see what I’ve said. Eventually Logan will post something, but he’s Internet challenged, so I just can’t promise anything.
PPS. If one of you would be willing, I can give you my login info and I can text you when he’s born and you can post it here if you want. Let me know and we’ll set it up.
Dude, I was just at SueBob’s site and saw this in her archives. I’d pretty much kill for that sandwich right now. I wonder if I can order it somewhere without someone puking? I’ll have to try.
I’ve officially come to the eating portion of this pregnancy. I think and dream about only food. Food, food, food. I want it all. Things I’d never eat normally, like cheesecake or Little Debbie’s or Pizza loaded down with everything (I have pizza issues), sound so good to me right now. I put the strangest things together and eat them. I regularly make my kids want to puke. They think I’m so gross.
Luckily I only have a few weeks left, or I’d end up weighing a zillion tons. Because peanut butter probably isn’t meant to be put on everything.
One peanut butter, bacon and pickle sandwich to go, please.
Weddings are INSANE!!!! I remember this, I do, (well kinda, since mine was so dam long ago) but it still shocked me how intense a wedding can be. So many little details My cousin got married tonight. I was her maid of honor, my husband and brother were best mens and my kiddies were flower girls. And I’m tired. So freaking tired that I’m too tired to sleep. Which is a bit wrong if you think about it. We’ve had crazy amounts of family in my house and at my cousins house. It’s been fun, this crazy family event, but I’m ready for it to be over. Yesterday, I actually told Logan that I wished I was at work. It just seemed like a more peaceful idea than what I was doing in the moment.
But now it’s over. It was a beautiful ceremony, a freaking awesome reception and they’re married and that’s all that counts. I am so glad that it’s over. So, so glad. Cause dude, really, I’m too pregnant to be anything but in the dam way. This little boy ran into me and I swear he bounced off the belly. It is large and in charge.
You know I’m starting to wonder if I can make a complete thought in this post, but I guess I can’t. I have been a very bad blogger and it won’t get much better until Tuesday when everyone is gone and the kids go back to school.
Oy and thanks for the name advice, keep it coming. I’ll be compiling a list shortly.
I just joined Twitter, because it seemed like the cool thing to do. And I’m nothing if not cool. Hahahaha. But um can any of you tell me to use it? User name is Issascrazyworld if you want to….well I don’t know, search for me or whatever.
Help…
Grab My Button!
I’m a joiner
