Alphabetically Speaking

With Hurricane Irene, this year's edition of "The Storm of the Century" bearing down on the Northeast, and the conclusion of our family's summer staycation, I thought it might be fun to do something a little different. 

I'm joining in on the fun that some blogging friends have been having on VoiceBoks and plan on describing myself using the alphabet. Here are the ABCs of me:


A    Always prefers to laugh, even if tears would be more appropriate.

B    Blogger is honestly one word I never thought I would use to describe myself, but what do you know, that is what I have become.

C    Changing my life for my children was impossible. So, I just got a completely new life. One I love even though it has its challenges.

D    Didn't think I could love my my husband and children a little bit  more each day, but I do.

E    Enjoy reading, gardening, Mad Men, and discussing politics, sometimes a bit too excitedly.

F    Forever changed by my daughter's neurological disorder that still has no name. Took me a long time to see that it wasn't my fault.

G   Going the distance in all my endeavors is my life's goal.

H   Help is still so hard for me to ask for without feeling humiliated.

I    Incredulous over the cruelty we can inflict on each other. Yet at the same time find the love, strength, and caring that we are capable of inspiring.

J    Just very grateful to be the wife and partner of my husband, Joe.

K   Katherine is my legal name. Kathy is what my husband and friends call me. To my dad though, I'll always be Kath.

L   Love to sing my children lullabies.

M  Meant to be a mom.

N  Need more sleep. It really is a necessity.

O  Older than my sisters. At 45 feeling a bit over the hill and well, just old.

P   Princess Elizabeth is my daughter. Perfect.

Q  Quickly learned that with three children the one thing that is not possible is quiet.

R   Remember listening to my favorite Broadway musicals on records.

S    Surprised to find out that I, one of three girls, was capable of having sons.

T   Too old to ever wear black lipstick again. Thankfully.

U   Until I had kids I didn't know that along with socks, washers also eat children's underwear.

V   Victoriously grew beautiful pumpkins one year. Then one day found that because of a squirrel they had all vanished.

W  Wish that I still didn't have a hard time considering myself a writer.

X   Xylophone is honestly something my son Peter wants for Christmas, or for the purpose of this essay, Xmas.

Y   Yellow rose I paid a small fortune for was supposed to be very hearty, but it's growth has been disappointing. Perhaps it will do better next year.

Z    Zoo trips are one thing I love to do with my family when we are on staycation and wouldn't you know it, almost all zoos have, you guessed it, zebras.

This Is Going To Go To My Head!!!

I have had a very fun week in the blogosphere! Yesterday I was the guest blogger at The North Forty and today I'm being featured on the wonderful blog of Becky Jane's "Rise Above Your Limits" http://riseaboveyourlimits.blogspot.com/

I had the great pleasure of talking to Becky two weeks ago in preparation of her piece on me. I have loved her blog and her spirit since I met her on VoiceBoks a few months ago. A mother of 11 she is a marvel and a very upbeat and caring voice in the big world of blogger land!!

Little did I know when I started My dishwasher's possessed back in November how many great and talented women I would have the chance to meet. Finding my voice took me a while but now that I have it I love to use it to share what I've learned and enjoy a laugh or two over some of my life experiences! I so appreciate the wonderful support I have gotten and I have come to cherish the friendships I have made in cyberspace!

I think that is the main reason I've come to love my time on VoiceBoks http://voiceboks.com The bloggers I have met there not only are interested in growing their own sites they also are interested in giving support and raising others up with them. I love that!! Becky Jane could be the poster child of that philosophy. She is always there with an answer to my questions or a word of encouragement. I'm really honored and thrilled she chose to profile me and I thank you for checking her lovely post of me out!!

If you haven't had a chance yet to check out Tykes Mom's great blog or my guest post there please drop by!  http://the-north-forty.com/

Now I'm going to enjoy the last day of our "Staycation" and celebrating my husband's birthday!!

See you on Sunday!! Much love to all!!

I'm At The North Forty Today!!

I often joke around to my blogging friends that I have become so addicted to the networking site VoiceBoks http://voiceboks.com/ that my husband is planning an intervention as we speak. If ever I miss a blog post you will know that some very nice ladies took me away screaming "let me just check one more thing on VoiceBoks" and took me to a nice blogger rehab somewhere in the mountains where they get no WiFi or cell service.

One reason I have become so addicted to VoiceBoks is that I have gotten to meet some incredible women who have some wonderful blogs. Today I have the pleasure of guest posting at one of these great sites!

Please join me at Tykes Mom's wonderful blog:

                                    The North Forty http://the-north-forty.com/

When Tykes Mom asked me to guest post she suggested, if I wanted to, to write about some of my experiences with pregnancy loss and how it has effected my parenting.

Unfortunately this is an experience that many women have had to go through. For me, the pain was so intense. I so wanted to have a child and would get so excited each time I saw a positive pregnancy test result only to feel devastated when a few weeks later I would miscarry.

For this piece I chose to focus on the time I found out I was pregnant with our first son, Tom, and how the news effected me.

Please drop by The North Forty to read my essay:  "Searching For My Happy Ending."

While you are there take a minute to check out Tykes Mom's wonderful site!

Thank you all for your continued support! My dishwasher and I are very grateful!

A very special thanks to Tykes Mom for the chance to re-visit this very happy but nerve wrecking time for me!! I am very honored to be featured on The North Forty!

A Day at the Beach

This past Tuesday I was walking on the same Long Island beach that I have known since I was a girl. My mind was wandering aimlessly, memories coming at me in no order or direction. Just like it did years before my husband, children, and my messy laundry room occupied my thoughts most of the time.

Of course the stroll wasn't exactly carefree because I was with my three children. But they were happily running ahead of me with my dad, and I could at least enjoy a small moment of peace and time in my own head.

Because I'm an excellent multi-tasker, I could do this all while occasionally telling my six-year-old, Peter, to not go so far into the edge of the water. I also manged to be the willing receptacle of the shells and rocks that the kids would bring to me to put in my daughter's doll bag that I grabbed out of my minivan and borrowed for the occasion.

Lizzy's pink skirt was blowing in the breeze, and Tom was laughing with Peter as they would look for more shells to give me. Watching my children so carefree and happy filled me with a feeling of gratitude.

My dad's familiar bald head was in the distance. He was holding Lizzy's hand and showing her the birds.

As I was walking I willed myself to remember the details so I could replay the memory on days when I feel like a 24-hour TV channel with the slogan "All Mom All The Time."

I thought back to the many summers that were spent at this same beach with my mother and sisters when we were about the same ages as my kids are now.

Back then, I loved the sand and the water. Going to the beach was a regular summer treat, all at once routine, yet something that I looked forward to. My sisters and I would bury each other in sand or look for minnows and swim in the water.

My mother's orange and black bathing suit with the tiger lily print is etched in my memory. At age 68, my mom still has great legs, but when she was in her thirties, she was stunning. Her skin would get so dark in the sun, and she would look very exotic. Not like the other mothers with their more conservative bathing suits and white cream on their noses. I wondered if I would ever manage to look like her.

It never seemed fair to me that I got the dark hair of my mother and the Italian side of the family, yet also had the pale white skin from my German father. My blond sisters were born with skin that tanned beautifully. Somewhere in the gene mixing, something got a little confused.

Of course now, when I'm mistaken for the youngest when I'm in fact the oldest, there's a little bit of a vindication. But back then I was just jealous.

My mind went to the summer when I was 24 and walking with my parents on the same beach. A welcome change of pace from my apartment in the city.

I was in a job I didn't love, and I was unsure of where my life was going. I was casually dating a fraternity brother of my roommate's boyfriend. My dad was mad at me because I had decided to go to Pennsylvania to meet him instead of going to the annual family reunion at my uncle's farm upstate.

I turned to my mom and said that I had a feeling that I was going to go to Pennsylvania and never come back, yet I didn't think that was the right choice for me. She turned her head and said something I hadn't even considered.

"Then Kathy, don't go."

I chose the reunion over the guy. A week after I got back from my uncle's farm I found myself on a blind date with the man who has been my husband for 18 years and counting.

"Peter, get closer to the sand... the sand Peter... sand... good job."

"Mom, look at this shell." Tom hands me a few sandy shells to put in the bag.

We catch up to my Dad and Lizzy. Lizzy's arms fly around my neck as she gives me a big kiss.

I take a look at the sand bar where we have ended up and realize just how far we have walked.

And just how far I have come.

Amen.

The Guilt Market

The news has been so filled with stories about the volatility in the financial markets that it had me thinking about one market that CNBC and Bloomberg don't cover: the Guilt Market.

Mothers are very familiar with this market. It starts the minute the line turns pink on your pregnancy test. Suddenly you feel guilty for the coffee you drank that morning, or the calcium you didn’t take. Heaven forbid if you had a glass of wine with dinner, or had your hamburger rare.

Perhaps you were like me and ate sushi the night before you found out you were pregnant because surely the cramps you were feeling meant another month of the baby dance so you might as well live it up.

Now as you look at the line you have spent months waiting to see, you are convinced that all your missteps will doom you and your baby.

From there the market just takes off. This is a market where I have a better eye for picking value than Warren Buffet.

Just like the stock exchange, the guilt market has a contingent of analysts, specialists, and investors—all of whom are willing to weigh in.  It may be out of true concern, or maybe they just have a need to put their two cents into your portfolio. 

Some of my favorite guilt tips are

·         “Don’t worry about having another miscarriage, I read that stress can harm the baby and cause a miscarriage.” I had four miscarriages, and I always found my guilt index climbed anytime someone gave me gave me that recommendation.

·         “You have to at least try to nurse your third child because you nursed your other two children. It’s only fair to the new baby.” I’m pretty sure my youngest child, Peter, has never gone a day worrying about the fact that he was bottle fed while Tom and Lizzy were breast fed. I’m also pretty sure he appreciated having a sane, happier mother. I know Tom, Lizzy, and my husband did. But, I will say six years later, I still think of that tip whenever Peter goes nuts if he does not have the same exact amount as his brother and sister. I have already socked a little extra money in his “money-for-therapy-for-all-the-things-I-did-to-screw-you-up fund”, just in case this is the reason.

·         “You should talk and play with your children more. Maybe that is why they have speech problems.” A few times I wondered if raising my children in a convent where we had taken a vow of silence was a bad idea. How was I to know that most parents interact with their kids? That comment paid a high return to the original investor.

When I realized that something was wrong with our daughter, Lizzy, at only six weeks old, I racked up so much guilt I could have singlehandedly paid the national debt.

The idea that if only I had done something, anything, differently, my daughter would live a more normal life has eaten up more time than I care to admit.

As a mom, I want to believe that if I only follow the “rules,” everything will work out just fine. If I read the right books, feed the kids the right foods, and take them to their scheduled check-ups, nothing bad will happen.

When something does occur that’s not in my plan, it’s easier for me to blame myself. If I was at fault, I can control it and make sure it never happens again.

I wish it was that easy. Experience has taught me it’s not.

Or, rather, Lizzy has taught me it’s not.

Though Lizzy’s challenges were not in my plan, they’re a part of her.

As she marches through the house wearing three crowns, my shawl around her waist, a sock for a glove, and a hair tie for a bracelet, it’s hard not to admit that Lizzy is who she’s supposed to be. Lizzy doesn’t blame me for the things she can’t do. She’s too busy living her life and turning her brothers into frogs with the magic wand my cousin gave her.

Plus there are more important things that she does blame me for, such as not letting her play with my jewelry or my favorite blouse.

“You are ruining my life,” is one of Lizzy’s favorite expressions lately. She will use it for anything, whether it’s the fact that she can’t have another cookie, my good purse, or the TV channel she wants. She’s no fool, she knows how valuable a commodity guilt is. I’m no fool either, and her outbursts initiate some interesting arguments.

“Lizzy, I don’t care if I am ruining your life, you can not eat the whole box of cookies. Now knock it off.”

“Oh, but the cookie is my best friend.“

That one always gets me, but I’m strong.

“Lizzy, it is a cookie, not a friend. Now move on.”

“But, mommy… I love you so much.”

She’s learning to be very skilled at the guilt market!

After all, she is my daughter.

My Four-Legged Mentor

When my husband and I first thought about starting a family, we decided we would start with a cat. We assumed that if we didn't kill the cat, we could probably handle a baby.

Joe and I went predictably crazy over our new addition. Because we lived in Manhattan, we decided to adopt a cat from the ASPCA. Samantha was a cute little thing that was found wandering the streets of New York. We took one look at her sweet face and we were hooked!


Many, many people made fun of how crazy we went over Samantha the cat. I'll never know why.


Perhaps it was because she had more toys than most children. Or perhaps it was our decision to feed her only the speciality cat food that could be found only in pet stores.


But, well we had to do that. The one time Joe had the nerve to pick up a grocery store brand, she picked out each inferior piece and left only the fancy brand in her dish. Did I forget to mention she was a genius? How could we feed her Tender Vittles when she so clearly was telling us her preference?


Maybe we were a tad obsessive.


It didn't help that poor Samantha had a chronic viral condition, so she frequently got eye and respiratory infections. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, but I remember one night at 12:00 a.m. Joe and I got into a cab with our "baby" so we could take her to an all night vet because we were so worried about her.


Samantha had a plethora of prescription drops and antibiotics. We became quite skilled at getting her to take each and every one, and the skills have been put to good use with three children!


Nights that previously were spent reading or watching a movie were now spent playing with our cat. Joe would take her out into the hallway of our apartment building and run back and forth with her.


We especially loved it when our neighbor’s three-year old son would knock on the door to play with Samantha. She may have looked like an ordinary cat, but to us she was our baby.


She was also a great comfort to us at one of the saddest points in our life.


Each of the four times I miscarried, it was Samantha who would sit with me in the dark as I mourned my loss. Holding her and feeling her warm fur helped with the devastation I felt over our losses.


When we moved to Queens, Samantha kept me company and made the move less traumatic. I could focus on her adjustment to the new house and not think about my own.


Looking back, I crack myself up about just how crazy we went over our cat. But Samantha did what we hoped she would do, she helped us get ready to be parents. And, in her own way she made us a family.


A little more than two years after our first miscarriage my husband and I welcomed our first child into the world. If you thought we went nuts over the cat, you can only guess what a fuss we made over our beautiful newborn son.


In the months before Tom was born, I diligently got Samantha ready for the changes that were coming. What I didn't anticipate is that our son would be extremely allergic to our first baby!


Luckily for us, my father-in-law was only too happy to give Samantha a new home. The two of them became great friends for the next 12 years.


This August 30 would have been Samantha's 16th birthday. But last fall, she had to be put to sleep after a long illness.


I always do my best to keep my feelings in check and in control around my kids, but when I got the call that Samantha was gone, I just sobbed. I missed my friend.


I have been blessed with many mentors in my 45 years. People who challenged me to become the person and parent I wanted and still want to be. With the risk of causing my cousin, Donna, a laughter-induced heart attack, I consider Samantha "the cat" one of them.


Samantha got me ready to be a parent like no teacher, parent, or friend could. She gave me first-hand experience in caring and loving something that was totally dependent on me. I will always cherish the sweet memories of her and how she helped Joe and I get ready for the adventure of raising the three wonderful children we have now.




Authors Note: My four-legged mentor was the first essay I ever posted on my blog. The original version was first published on Momster.com back in November, 2010. Next week, I will go back to publishing new essays.