After the Vows

Like a lot of little girls, I grew up with romantic notions of my wedding day. 


My sisters and I loved to hear my mother tell of her wedding to my father. Her search for the perfect cake and how she designed her own bridal bouquet were stories we loved to hear as we looked over her wedding album.


Long before I met my husband, I spent many hours planning and fantasizing about my flowers, the dress I would wear, and my bridesmaids.


When I did meet my husband and we got engaged, I bought every bridal magazine and read every book on weddings that I could get my hands on. To say I was obsessed would be an understatement.


Thankfully Joe was a great fiance and we had fun planning our wedding.


Our wedding was everything I had hoped it would be, complete with my perfect dress and a gorgeous day. The sun was shining, the birds sang, and I married a man I was, and still am, very much in love with.

It was a great way to start our life together.

But a wedding is not a marriage. Once the reception is over and the dress is packed away there is a life to live.


Together. As a couple. For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.


That's pretty daunting.


Another thing that is daunting is that this week will mark our nineteenth wedding anniversary.


Is their a secret to staying married this long?


It seems whenever I read an article or a book about a perfect couple and their secrets to a long marriage, a few months later I read about how the same couple is now going through the perfect divorce.


Marriage is tough. If it wasn't, 50 percent wouldn't end in divorce.  


I will say the one thing that has helped us out over the years is our ability to laugh at ourselves and whatever life throws our way.


The time that sticks out the most for me is ten years ago when Joe and I were driving to our new home. 


We were getting ready to move in and packing up the house we had been renting in Queens. All of a sudden I had a thought and just started to laugh hysterically.

"Why are you laughing?" Joe said, starting to laugh himself.

"Well, I was just thinking. You know how when something bad happens in your life, and you say to yourself, 'Well, it could be worse. I could be so-and-so.' 


"Yes."


"You do realize that everyone who got laid off in your office is saying to themselves today, 'It could be worse. I could be Joe and his wife!'"


Then we both just started hysterically laughing.

We had just bought our first house; we had a two-and-half-year-old son; and I was five months pregnant with our daughter.

Five days after we closed on a $300,000 mortgage, my husband was painting the bedrooms so we could move in. Then his boss called at 9:00 p.m.


The bursting of the dot.com bubble was taking a toll on the publishing business, and my husband's company decided it was time to cut back. 


The cutbacks consisted of the head of the online business and 30 employees, including my husband's boss and, of course, my husband.

Most people would not be laughing at this point in life, and trust me, I had many, many sleepless nights and panicked days. 


But, as serious as it was, it was almost comical that this was happening to us.

We had saved for eight years to buy our house because we wanted to be completely prepared for the purchase. Joe and I were famous for saying: You never know, you could buy a house one day and lose your job the next!

The dark humor in the situation was just too much. Even in my most panicked state, I had to admit it was funny. I kept thinking of the phrase, "We plan, God laughs."

I don't believe that God sits up in heaven and says, "Gee. Kathy and Joe have planned out everything so nicely. They are expecting their second child. They just bought the house. Good for them. You know, I'm a little bored, why don't I just yank the rug from underneath them and see what they do."

But, life sure does have a way of twisting and turning. For me, it helps to believe that when I have a strong fear or feeling about something, it's my way of saying to God or the universe, this is something I need to work on.

Now my husband thinks my feelings are crazy when it comes to this issue. As he sees it, life is random, and faith is there to help you ride it out.

Even though we view things differently, we were able to weather the storm together. We had some savings left, and my husband's skills as a writer meant he could freelance while looking for a new job. Plus, we're fortunate to have great parents and strong family support.

At times, we panicked and said, "Why us?" But most times, we saw what we needed to do and did it, and we laughed... a lot more than we cried.

I wouldn't want to go through it again, but the experience of living through one of your worst fears is a powerful gift. And I think it's one of the best ones we can pass on to our kids.


How to survive when the world seems to be caving in on you is a gift my husband and I received from our own parents.


My mother may have given me her love of weddings, but it was seeing my parents go through life as a couple that let me know marriage was more than picking a china pattern or planning the perfect centerpieces.

Our parents' lessons and strength helped us when we suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, when Joe lost his job, and even today as we deal with a child with very serious, life-altering disabilities.


I am grateful for the ability to laugh and for marrying a man with the same offbeat sense of humor.


I sincerely hope that it's the one real gift we leave to our own precious children. 


Unlike money and possessions, the gift of survival and humor in the face of adversity is a gift no one can take from us. It may not be that romantic, but it is recession proof.


Authors note: This is a revised and expanded version of a piece I did last year titled "What's So Funny." That version was posted on this site March 20, 2011.

Not My Family

When you were growing up, did you ever know a family that seemed to do everything right? The children were always on their best behavior and looked neat and clean. The family was always on time for every function, and the husband and wife never argued.


Well, my family is just like this. 


My children are absolute angels, and my husband and I have never said a cross word to each other in 19 years of marriage.


Yesterday, when we took the family on an outing to the movies to see The Lorax, everything went according to plan, like it always does.


Joe and I even blew kisses to each other as we helped the children get ready and into the car. 


As we were driving, we kept exchanging romantic looks to each other and smiling just because we were in each other's presence.


We are the most organized family I know and can manage to get out of the house with time to spare.


But we know another family.


This family is somewhat disorganized. 


(Well the wife is not, but the husband is.) 


Personally, I think the wife is a saint as she deals with the absolute chaos of the house while her husband is running errands and doing the shopping.


They, too, decided to take their family to see The Lorax yesterday.


Unlike our family, this family took a long time getting ready:


Mom: "We are going to be leaving for the movie in 20 minutes. Please put your socks and shoes on."


Youngest son: "I want to go to the movies."


"Yes, we are getting ready now. Do you have your socks and shoes on?"


"Yes. Can we go to the movies?"


Ten minutes later:


"We are going to be leaving in 10 minutes. I hope everyone else has their socks and shoes on, teeth brushed, and has used the bathroom."


Mom to daughter: "Will you please let me do your hair... Don't run away from me... Don't you want to go the movie... Oh for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, will you just stand still so I can do you hair?"


Five minutes later:


"We are leaving in five minutes. Is everybody ready?"


Mom looks at oldest son who is totally engrossed with his iPod.


"You have no socks or shoes on, don't you want to go?"


"Oh, are we leaving now? OK." 


"Have you seen my shoes?"


Mom's saintliness is beginning to fray.


The youngest son starts in with his pleas and whining.


"Can we go to the movies? I want to go to the movies. I want to eat popcorn."


"Yes honey, we will be doing that. Now let's move away from the whining. No whining at the movies."


"OK mommy. I need a hug."


The mom regains her cool and gets everybody ready with plenty of time to spare. 


The husband is nowhere to be seen.


"Honey we are all ready to go. Let's go, we don't want to be late."


"I'm ready. I will be right there." 


The mom gets everyone in the car and makes sure all seat belts are in place.


The family waits very patiently for the husband.


Well the kids aren't that patient.


In fact the kids are starting to get nervous that they are going to be late to yet another movie. 


The youngest child starts to whine though he promised he would not.The oldest child has now calculated the exact mileage and the time it will take to reach the movie theater. He has decided that they will never make it in time to see the movie. This freaks out the younger son.


St. Mom tries to keep everyone in one piece, though her patience is starting to wear thin again.


The husband finally gets into the car and off they go.


Sort of.


The husband announces that they need to stop off at the library to drop off a book that happens to be due that day.


"There is no time. It's no big deal if it's one day late," mom says, hoping to regain some calm in the car. 


"I don't want to pay the fine."


"It's only a dime."


"I don't want to pay a fine. Even if it's only a dime." 


The mom is left in the car with her three children while her husband returns the book inside the library because he does not trust the easy drop off box. The kids are getting very nervous as they see the time.  


Husband walks out of the library very calm and happy that he has accomplished his mission. He can't for the life of him understand why his family is so uptight.


Mom is now extremely frustrated. Thoughts of running off to Hawaii with George Clooney start to sound very good.


"Honey, please lets get going, the children are getting very impatient. They really want to see this movie."


The husband continues with his very calm manner while saying it will be fine and that they will make it in plenty of time.


"I don't know, I really don't think we are going to make it."


"Yes we will."


The mom has lost all her cool and has now moved into full nagging wife mode. A mode the husband always loves and responds to so well.


"I don't know why it takes you forever to get out of the house. The kids get very nervous if they think they are going to be late."


Husband's voice gets calmer the more his wife's voice gets louder and higher pitched.


"We are not going to be late."


Twenty minutes later all hell is starting to break loose because now the children have realized that the family is lost and that the husband does not know where he is.


The wife knows the best way to help the situation is to really lose it.


"Why did you pick this theater if you didn't know how to get to it? We are going to miss the movie." 


Youngest child starts to cry that he will never see The Lorax.


The mom continues her rant, bringing up the point that the family is always late because of her husband.


"We are never going to make it. Why do you insist that you know where you are going when you so clearly don't?"


Her husband stays calm, though he is getting frustrated as well.


"We wont' miss the movie."


"Yes we will, we still have to park. We will never make it. Why must we always be late to things?"


Ten minutes later and one stop to ask someone where they are the family finally makes it to the movie theatre.


Just like the wife said there would be, there is no parking.


All three children are upset. The mom is very angry. The husband is not at all thrilled with his wife, but he still acts calm.


The family finally makes it to the movie just as the opening credits start. The husband goes to get popcorn and sodas, leaving mom with her three children.


The family starts to calm down. Soon the kids and even the mom get very engrossed in the movie.


Oldest son: "Where is Dad?"


Youngest son: "I want popcorn."


Mom gives her children her most you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-look and says that the dad went to get them popcorn.


"That was almost 15 minutes ago. Do you think he is OK? Maybe something happened to him?"


"Nothing happened... he's fine... watch the movie." This is said in a whisper through a forced smile.


The husband comes back with popcorn and sodas for the children. All is right with the world as the family enjoys the movie.


Of course, my perfect family also enjoyed the movie and had a lovely, relaxing time.


Joe and I even held hands remembering our dating life and marveling at the family we created. 


When we got out of our seats there wasn't one kernel of popcorn on the floor or the seats. It looked like we had never even sat down. We left the movie holding hands basking in our perfection.


The other family got up and it looked like a pack of wild dogs had gotten a hold of the popcorn. Either that or a bomb had gone off without them knowing it.


Their children looked pretty happy though.


And, I think I saw the husband and wife smile at each other.

L is for Lizzy

If you are visiting from Bonbon Break welcome! Hope you get possessed!

 

When our son, Tom, was eight years old, he needed a tooth pulled out. Or "wiggled" out, as the pediatric dentist we go to said.

"Mom, that means he's pulling my tooth out, yes?"


"Yes, Tom."


The dentist went on to say they prefer to use the term wiggle. Tom looked at me and asked again if the dentist was going to pull his tooth out. I again said yes.


Then the dentist went to give Tom a shot of "Silly Juice" which would make his mouth feel "funny."


"Mom, that's Novocaine, right? And, my mouth is going to feel numb, right?"


"Yes, Tom,"


I'm not the dentist's favorite mom.


I've never been comfortable using words that soften things. When my kids ask me a question, I give them the most honest answer that I think they're able to handle. 


My parents did the same for my sisters and me, and I found it less frightening, not more.


I love words. I'm a writer who's married to a writer. We've been teaching our children that words can empower, inspire, and educate. They can also anger, sadden, and hurt people.


Choose your words carefully was a phrase I heard often growing up, and I use it myself with my three children.


So why does the R word bother me so much? The word is used to medically define developmentally delayed people with below-average IQs. 


It's just a word. Right?


Or is it?

I remember clearly the afternoon I sat at my kitchen table listening on the phone while a pediatric neurologist explained the results of my two-year-old daughter's MRI. 


The doctor explained that because of the brain damage that showed up in the MRI, my daughter's larger-than-average head size, and the shape of her eyes, it was possible that Lizzy could have a very serious genetic disorder. 


The doctor told me it was possible that her skills would start to decline and that we should look out for any signs of deterioration.


She was two. She was barely talking. How much more could she degenerate? My heart stopped and our world changed.


All I could think about was children making fun of my sweet daughter. 

My own memories of girls being mean to me or kids calling me stupid came flooding back to me. I was a typical girl with dyslexia.


If kids were mean to me, what were they going to do with a child whose disability was so apparent? What were they going to do to my child who didn't have my gift of being able to communicate?


I still remember the summer I was 12 when my parents sent my younger sister and me to a day camp.


There was a girl with special needs in the 11-year-old group. I knew they were cruel and made fun of her. They treated her like she wasn't a person. 


Was that my daughter's future?

Retard. Retarded. Retardation. Those words were very much in my mind.

When Lizzy was six weeks old, I was holding and cuddling her. I became alarmed when I realized she wasn't looking at me the way I thought she should be.


That started a long parade of visits to specialists and therapists to help our daughter have a "normal" life. 

But Lizzy's issues defied conventional diagnosis. She didn't fit any model or standard disorder. Just when a teacher or therapist was about to throw in the towel with Lizzy and claim her progress had stalled, Lizzy would turn around and do something brilliant. Every specialist was, and still is, confused.


Four MRIs, countless tests, several more specialists, and ten years later, we still don't have an answer.

Her IQ tests puts her functioning in the level that the R word would pertain to. She has a very hard time communicating. Her voice can sound altered, and kids, understandably, have made comments that she talks funny.


When Lizzy was five, we were touring the school at which she would attend kindergarten. We walked into the classroom of the speech therapist who had a class going on. I helped prompt Lizzy, and soon she was talking a bit to the teacher. 


One child commented that her voice sounded very funny. I was about to explain in a friendly and easy to understand way why that was, when a little boy said to the child very excitedly, "but she is talking. Lizzy is talking."


As I looked at the little boy, I realized that two years earlier he had been in a preschool class with Lizzy for kids with speech difficulties. Lizzy could barely say a word back then. 


He remembered her and was so happy that she could talk. He didn't care what her voice sounded like.


I was most afraid of how children would react to my daughter but have found that children are likely to understand and want to help Lizzy. 

Last year, I was at a playground with my kids, and Lizzy ran to another section where some older girls were playing. I was nervous that they would ask Lizzy to move out of their way and she would either not hear, not respond, or just start screaming or saying nonsense words they would surely find strange.


I smiled at the girls as I started to explain Lizzy had some special needs. One girl looked at me and with a smile said, "It's OK. I know Lizzy from school. I help out her class at gym sometimes." 


"Hi, Lizzy. Do you remember me?"


Lizzy smiled. The girls were very sweet to her and played with her for a bit until we had to leave.


I'm not going to lie and say that I never get frightened about what my daughter's life will be like. Or say that we have never encountered the occasional narrow-minded person. But for the most part I have been pleasantly surprised at how people have welcomed Lizzy into their lives.


Of course Lizzy is a pretty amazing girl.

Our daughter is a funny, creative person who loves to tell stories. She loves anything pink and feminine and enjoys picking out very cool outfits to wear. She also loves shoes and jewelry.


Whenever we go into New York City, Lizzy loves to stop and look at the store windows. Chanel and Dior outfits are favorites. Jewelry always makes a big impression. Once, she was enthralled with a display featuring diamond-encrusted shoes that took the sting out of having six vials worth of blood drawn.


Her laugh is contagious, and she has two loving brothers who are willing to do almost anything to make her giggle or laugh.


She has amassed a collection of tiaras, hats, purses, and necklaces from so many people that we will soon need a separate room to house the gifts of her many admirers.


Lizzy is a beloved daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, cousin, student, neighbor and friend.

And that is my problem with the R word. 


In it's most clinical term, it refers to one side of a person. The side that can be measured by an IQ or other developmental test. 


When the R word is casually used to describe either ourselves or someone else when they do something we deem stupid, dumb, or absent minded, I realize that we are not trying to hurt people with a real disability. But how could it not be insulting to someone who is just trying to do their absolute best?


The campaign to end the R word isn't meant to stop anyone from being themselves or censor free speech. It's meant to bring understanding to a segment of the population which for so long has been misunderstood or invisible.


As family members and friends of people who have an intellectual disability, we know the value that each person has brought to our lives and communities.


Everyone has special talents and gifts. By marginalizing people with outdated terms, we make it easier to ignore their humanity. 


We also cut ourselves and our children off from knowing some amazing individuals.

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

My bed feels so warm and comfortable. I feel my husband's leg on mine and realize there are no children in our bed. I take a deep breath. I'm so tired that I keep slipping in and out of sleep, hearing the noises that are going on in the rest of the house without the supervision of mom and dad.


I think about cuddling with my husband and would if I could only manage to move my body to his side of the bed. I'm really tired.


As I'm contemplating this herculean action I look up and notice Lizzy over our bed looking down at me. 


There she is, our sweet, special needs ten-year-old daughter. She has five dresses on, one on top of the other and now wants to get them off. This is a routine that she will repeat throughout the day. 


"Mommy, I need help. Mommy. Cinderella, Cinderella, baby dance."


"Lizzy, no Cinderella baby dance. No word salad. What do you want?"


"Hi mama."


"Hi, Lizzy. Sweetie go ask daddy to help you, mommy is so tired."


I don't usually pass the buck, and I'm feeling a bit guilty. But I'm beyond tired. I can't seem to move one muscle, and I feel like I'm under water. Plus there is the thought that I get to have this fun every day, and poor Joe misses out on the insanity. I'm betting he  loves it.


I'm actually surprised that Lizzy goes over to Joe's side of the bed without a complaint.


"Daddy, I need help. Baby dance, baby dance."


"Did you give Liz her morning medicine?" Joe looks over to me. I guess the mixed up word salad of Lizzy's speech reminds him that someone is going to have to give her her medication. 


"No, I can't move honey. Could you please do it?"


"Daddy, I love you. Help me." 


Lizzy is no fool. She has her father wrapped very tightly around her finger.


Joe gets up and I slip back into the abyss of sleep.


I don't get to enjoy it for long.


My eyes open and there is six-year-old Peter standing over me. 


"Mommy, I want gum balls."


"Peter, honey, mommy's sleeping."


"Mommy, can we get gum balls today? Can I go with daddy to the store. I want gum balls."


"Mommy....Mommy... I want a gum ball machine for my birthday."


"Peter, my head has exploded..."


"And your brains are all over the ceiling" he says. 


This is a game we play, and now we are both laughing. He gives my head a gentle pat completing our game.


"Mom there are your brains, they fell down from the ceiling and are all over your head." 


I'm now laughing, which is the whole point of the game. It's one of the ways I've learned to handle his whining.


"Mommy, I'm going with daddy to the store."


"That's great. Are you going to get dressed?"


"Yes."


I fall back asleep. My eye lids are so heavy. I'm exhausted and feel like I could sleep a year and still not get enough.


"I'm naked. I'm naked. I'm naked."


I hear Peter yelling outside of his bedroom. Laughing and yelling at the same time.


"Mommy, I'm naked."


I look over and see that, yes, Peter is certainly naked standing in the hallway.


"I see you're naked. Peter, get dressed. You can't go to the store without any clothes."


More laughter.


I can now hear Joe's voice booming. 


"Peter get dressed if you want to go with me. Let mommy sleep. Lizzy, if you want hot chocolate take off all the costumes."


I'm relieved that Joe has it under control, and I slip once more into sleep.


Now I look up and it's our 13-year-old Tom standing in my room.


"Hi mom"


"Hi Tom."


"Mom."


"Yes, Tom."


"I need to do a take home test for reading. Can you help me?"


"Right now? Hon, I'm a little tired."


"Oh no, not now, I just wanted you to know I'm going to need you later today."


"OK, Tom."


"I'm going to go with dad and Peter to get some muffins."


"OK Tom."


"Mom you look really tired. You should go back to sleep."


"Thanks Tom."


I'm alone. Once again feeling the warmth of my bed and the heaviness of sleep coming again. I really need to do something about getting more rest. I'm getting old.


As I drift in and out of consciousness, I hear the boys trying to get ready and Joe barking out the orders of, put your socks on, yes Peter, you need to wear socks and shoes if you are going to go with us.


They are all laughing.


Apparently Lizzy is now running around with her magic wand turning her brothers into frogs.


Joe peeks his head in and lets me know they are about to leave.


"Are you taking Lizzy. Please tell me you are"


He smiles and says no, she is not dressed.


"Lizzy should be coming in here any minute to turn you into a frog" are his parting words. He also blows me a kiss.  My reward for being turned into a frog I guess.


Just as he leaves my princess comes in and waves her wand over my head. 


"Poof."


"Oh, Lizzy am I frog now?"


"No mommy, you are a beautiful princess"


"Thanks Lizzy."


I get a kiss from my fairy. Then she cuddles next to me.


I think back to the years before I had children. All the Sundays where I could lounge in bed and relax for as long as I wanted to. 


I'm not going to lie. Sometimes I really wish I could have a night of restful sleep. But as I'm cuddling with my beautiful princess in the five dresses and a crown on her head I realize that all I have to do is blink and this time will be gone.


I take a deep breath and say a silent thank you. Tired, but grateful.