10, 9, 8, 7, 6...

I cannot believe we have come to the end of another year. I can't complain too much about 2009....well, I could if I thought about it, but on the whole, it wasn't bad. My daughter turned 6, Malcolm and I celebrated 10 years of marriage, my brother got engaged, and I'm sure I had a lot of fun. There were a few Ava surgeries and emergencies thrown in, but that's par for the course. We still have jobs, a roof over our heads, warm clothes, and plenty to eat.

It's New Year's Eve and Malcolm is cooking up some filet mignon for dinner. Ava is watching a show, waiting for dinner and maybe a little"family party." New Year's Eve is a funny holiday. When we were kids we were allowed to stay up late, a very big deal. I recall a time when we'd go over to my Aunt Lou and Uncle Ralph's apartment in Brooklyn to ring in the New Year. I can't remember how old I was, but I remember gathering with family in their tiny livingroom. I think their neighbors used to come in too, although I wouldn't remember their names, or them, if I tried.

I also remember - and I don't recall if this was before or after the "Aunt Lou years"- that we would stay up late with my parents and play board games. One of our favorites was Sorry, a game immortalized in the Eunice and Mama sketch of the Carol Burnett Show. I know none of us kids liked losing, and I know would tease my brothers if they did. This was one advantage of being the oldest. I remember we'd count down to the New Year with Dick Clark on the TV and my parents would have champagne and we could have a taste. Staying up so late was a fine thing indeed and remember New Year's Eve as one of the few times we celebrated with just our family of five.

Then there was New Year's Day. We always had a big dinner at my maternal grandparent's house. (Italians will take any excuse to have a big family dinner, and this seemed a great way to end the holiday season.) My Grandma would always make a dish we called "Bracciolles in the Brown Gravy." I do not believe this is its formal name, but that's what we called it. I think it was a German recipe from "Mrs. Menkel" the mother of Betty Menkel, who was the wife of Mike Sasso, a good friend of my grandparents.

(Side note: We always referred to Betty Menkel as Betty Menkel, even after she became Betty Sasso. This may have been because there were other Betty's in our family, but she also looked more like a Menkel than a Sasso. She had light hair, light skin, and she wore red lipstick; she was very pretty and well dressed. In any event, she and Mike Sasso spent Christmas with our family for many years. We were just talking about her the other day and sure enough we called her Betty Menkel. Some traditions never die.)

Anyway, this dish was basically beef rolls stuffed with garlic and parsley and cooked in a brown sauce as opposed to the "red gravy" we ate with our pasta every week. It was very good, but I do not know if the recipe died with my grandmother and Mrs. Menkel. I must ask my mother.
By the end we were all stuffed, as always, and thoughts of going back to school loomed in my head, as I am sure thoughts of returning to work loomed in everyone else's heads.

Time changes things and the New Year's dinner went by the way side many years ago. As we grandkids got older and started going out on our own for New Year's, we were too hungover to even think about going anywhere the next day.

And now, as 2010 approaches, I am happy to stay at home this evening. We were invited to a party, but we don't have a nurse for Ava. Our friends were kind enough to invite her, but it snowed today and we are just not up for clearing out the driveway and going out. I like being home. It's warm and there's a good meal, and maybe we'll even play some board games. I wonder if I'll see midnight...most years I don't. But 2010 will be here just the same tomorrow, and I hope that it brings everyone much joy, love and happiness. Happy New Year!

Why?

I often find myself thinking "Why?" You might think I am referring to my daughter and why she was born with so many challenges. Well, I do think that, sometimes, but not nearly as often as you might think. Ava is just Ava, and as much as I hate the constant worrying, the trips to the ER, the battles, and the surgeries, this is not my greatest wonder.

More often I find myself thinking...Why:

1. ...has reality TV become successful? How can anyone sit and watch much of the trash that passes for entertainment these days? And just when I think it can't get any worse, it does. We now have shows called I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? (HOW DUMB ARE YOU?), Toddlers and Tiaras (about little girls who are made up and paraded around like tramps at kiddie beauty pageants), and 19 Kids and Counting (self-explanatory). I know of these shows only because the ads for them are blasted during commercials at decibels loud enough to wake the dead. There is also a very funny show called The Soup, which complies all this trash into little blurbs, then mocks them for how ridiculous they are. I love The Soup.

2. ....do people like Jon and Kate Gosselin - obviously self-absorbed morons - gets tons of money for being idiots, while the rest of us have to work for a living?

3. ...does every child in America think they are entitled to a designer bedroom? Ava likes this terrible show called Trading Spaces; Boys vs Girls. It's about two kids who get to have their "dream bedroom" designed and paid for by this stupid show. If it was going to needy kids then maybe I could see the point. But most of the kids who are "chosen" are anything but needy and their parents could afford to re-do their bedrooms if such a thing was warranted. This show celebrates everything I hate: bratty kids, excess, greed, and getting something simply because you want it and whine loudly enough for it. All the kids on the show complain that their "bedroom is sooooo boring and uncool." Yeah well, so what? Neither of my parents had their own bedroom, and my brothers didn't either. Now, I did, but I was the only girl. And I am sure I whined about my room, but I never expected anyone to actually do anything about it....much less call in a design team from a TV show. Ugh.

4.....do people like Tiger Woods, David Letterman, etc. etc. cheat on their wives? Hello???? You are a millionaire, successful beyond anyone's wildest dreams, have any material good you could want, your wife is beautiful, your kids are healthy...and...IT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH????? Don't even get me started.

Well, I wonder about a lot more things, but I am keeping this short.

Happy Thanksgivin'

Well let's just say I've been away from my blog for a while! I hope all 3 of you didn't miss me.

I cannot believe we once again find ourselves at Thanksgiving. This happens to be one of my favorite holidays. I LOVE the food, the thoughts of gratitude, and the fun of being with family.

Thanksgiving has changed a lot over the years. As kids, we would all get up early, pile into Uncle Arthur's van, and drive to Manhattan for the Macy's parade. Despite my complaining, especially as I got older, this was great fun. I swear it was 20 degrees every year, not the balmy Novembers we have now. After the parade, we would go out for a HUGE breakfast and then have dinner later. Now that was some eatin'!

As I became an older teen and into my early 20's, the Wed. night before Thanksgiving was a big party night. As such, I missed the parade, likely because I arrived home about 2 hours before it started, and spent many a turkey dinner with a huge hangover.

When I lived out on the west coast I did not come home for Thanksgiving because I usually came home for Christmas. So I was one of those people who ended up as a random guest at someone else's home, since I was somewhat of an orphan (insert sobbing sounds and my parents' voice saying "Well no one told you to move across the country...").

Some Thanksgivings I barely remember. Here are a few strange ones. These all took place between 1992 and 2000, but I don't remember which year was which:

1. I cooked an entire Thanksgiving meal by myself and had two strangers in my house. They were friends of my then-boyfriend, but I cannot recall anything about these people, or why they came to our apartment for Thanksgiving dinner.

2. Had dinner with a bunch of older hippies, who were the family of another guy I was dating at the time. I think we all went to the movies that night and saw a Woody Allen movie, but I have no idea what it was.

3. Had a great meal with a bunch of work friends, one of whom went onto graduate first in his class at UC Berkeley Law School and started his law career as a clerk for Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Hmmm, wonder f he's making TONS of money now....maybe I better find him on Facebook.

4. Another meal with more hippies who were close friends. One of us (not me!) ended up playing the piano and we all sat around singing these crazy songs after dinner.

5. This one is a little more clear in my mind, likely because it's the most recent. Malcolm and I drove up to Oregon to see our friends Mike and Carolyn. We had the meal catered, and after stuffing ourselves sat around in big comfy chairs watching silly movies, one of which was called "Fandango." It stars a very young Kevin Costner, and after about 6 bottles of wine it's very funny.

Thanksgiving is a little more structured these days. We either celebrate at my Aunt Paula's or at my in-laws. Being grateful is more of a theme than it ever was when I was single and child-free. I love my Thanksgivings with family, but I am glad I had those crazy CA Thanksgivings as well. It's good to have a mix of experiences in life. So Happy Thanksgiving...may you not have a hangover or be dragged to a horrible Black Friday sale!

Pay it Forward

I am wired tonight. I haven't been wired in 10 years, but I am wide-awake tonight. I just had a conversation with a stranger on the phone. Now before you go getting all judgemental, it wasn't someone I met in an illicit chat room on-line. (I talked to that person last night.) A mother called me from Minnesota; she is the Mom of a 3-month old baby girl with Pfeiffer syndrome. And she has a cloverleaf skull.

Pfeiffer syndrome is a very rare condition. It affects about one in 250,000 babies. And a cloverleaf skull - in which the skull is formed in 3 bumps instead of round due to premature fusing of the skull sutures - is the rarest type: odds are close to one in a million that you will have a baby with a cloverleaf skull. To say there are not many of us out there is an understatement.

This Mom had been sent some pictures of Ava as a baby by a friend on our on-line support group. She then contacted me, wanting to know all the things I wanted to know about Ava when she was a baby. Would she be Ok? Would she be brain damaged? Would she survive the many surgeries she needed to endure? Would she be mentally disabled? Would we ever feel normal again?

It was funny to be on the other end of this conversation. It took me back to a time, almost 7 years ago, when my little girl fought for her life in the NICU at CT Children's Medical Center. In truth, I don't like to think about those days. They were scary and dark. Even 7 years ago, there wasn't alot of info.on cloverleaf skulls, and what was out there was just frightening. I recall one day in the NICU, Malcolm came in holding an e mail from a woman whose daughter had a cloverleaf skull, or at least had been born with one. She had had many surgeries, but was a happy little 7-year old, doing most of the things she should be doing. Her mother wrote me often during the early days...encouraging me and giving me true and honest information. I still have her emails printed and tucked away. They are very special to me and always will be. This woman, whether she knew it or not, was my lifeline. She was my hope. I still keep in touch with her and her daughter is almost 14 now.

This Mom asked me a lot of questions and we "talked shop": surgeries, craniofacial docs, brains, doc appts., home nursing, trachs, G-tubes, shunts, child development...you name it. We didn't know each other, but we knew each other very well. She was in a place where I was...she felt the things I felt and saw the things I saw. She was so happy when she saw Ava's pictures because she said she could see a future for her daughter.

Imagine that. A few pictures, a 90-minute conversation and we were friends. She said so many of the things I used to think. She said exactly what I used to think. I didn't feel the need to let her in on my neurotic way of worrying about everything and anything on earth that could be worried about when it came to Ava; she will learn soon enough.

However, I did assure her that it would get easier and better and that she would come to accept a new sense of normal. i don't think about what I do each day for Ava...I just do it. It wasn't always that way, but after nearly 7 years it is. The constant worry and the stress never go away, but I've learned to battle them (with the help of wine and Xanax). This woman said it was refreshing to talk with someone who understood her, and I couldn't have been happier to be that person.

HOW old am I????

A little piece of reality has crept up upon me: I am getting older. I can't stop it and I can't control it, it's just a fact. I remember when I was a teen thinking that a 40-something woman must be ancient. My God, she had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel! (Props to my friend Donna who is the first person I ever heard add the banana peel part.) My parents were in their 40's for Pete's sake and they knew nothing.


Well (insert screeching brakes sound) here I am now. It's funny, when I look in the mirror I swear a cute little twenty-something with big hair and maybe too much eyeliner winks back. When I see a photo of myself, however, it's a different story. Looking at the photos, I have aged. Not badly, but I have aged. This is never more apparent than when hanging with a younger crowd.

We spent our afternoon with some friends today who are a lot younger than us. We are at the same point in life; however, they married and had a family a lot earlier than we did. The husband and wife are ages 30 and 29, respectively, and their kids are 8 and 5. An incredibly nice family. We hung out at their house, watched sports, talked, the kids played. The age difference is not apparent (well, unless you LOOK at us). They are excited because their kids will be in college when they are in their 40s and they will be OUR AGE and free to do as they please. However, they make the point that they did not have the freedom of their younger years to make mistakes and enjoy life; they had kids young and married young. We had a LOT of fun in our twenties, married in our 30s and had kids when we were almost 40.

I don't know if there is an ideal time to do things in life. Different things work for different people. I would have been a crappy mother at age 25...was way too self-absorbed and immature. I am glad I had my 20's to explore, make a LOT of mistakes, make a lot of good decisions, and learn about the kind of person I was and wanted to be. I guess I feel like I am a better mother because I had the benefit of getting a lot "out of my system"as they call it. i don't feel like I am missing out on anything life has to offer; to use a well-worn and tired expression, "been there, done that."

I do think the one funny thing is...I really haven't changed all that much. The one thing that has changed, however, is that the party needs to be much earlier. For example, I still love to go out, drink a bunch, eat a bunch, but....I cannot rally and go out after that. It's one round of partying, max. And if the party starts at 3pm and ends at 9pm, all the better. Then I must go to bed. if I don't get enough sleep, i can do nothing the next day. This is a sharp contrast to the girl who could come in from partying at 3, go to work by 9, then do the whole thing again the next night. if I tried that now, I would die.

I stay out late sometimes - and I hate it. The next day I am USELESS...if I don't have 1 or 2 naps, the whole day is shot; and mind you, the whole day is shot anyway, because I have to sleep so much I can't do anything anyway.

Time is a funny thing...as we age, we become more confident, more content, and more in control of what we do with our free time. Trouble is, we're too tired to enjoy it...

"I Wear the Chain I Forged in Life"

My father, a fellow blogger, just wrote an excellent blog about pet peeves of his. I could write pages - volumes - about things which irritate me. The apple does not fall far from the tree. I responded to his blog with a quote from A Christmas Carol, one of my favorite books of all time: "How can I be merry when I live in a world of fools such as this?" My father retorted with another line from the classic book.

I am not sure why this book fascinates me so much. It is definitely one of my favorites, if not the best book I ever read. I read it every year at Christmas time. And I watch the 1951 version of the movie every year. I think the idea of the 3 ghosts is so clever. And I just love to read the words as they appear. They are poetic and intelligent. One must have a solid knowledge of the English language to understand the text. I know I sound like a snob, but I am not. I have read other books by Charles Dickens, even if it was under duress for school. There's something about HAVING to read a book that makes it less enjoyable. I enjoy his work, but not nearly as much as I enjoy A Christmas Carol.

I love the words he uses. I love his descriptions, and I love the fact that Scrooge is a grumpy old sot who doesn't give a hoot or holler about what anyone thinks....until he gets those visits from the Three Ghosts. I enjoy the glimpse into the life of Victorian England. (I wouldn't have lasted 10 minutes.) It seems the poor of that time, e.g. Bob Cratchit, didn't have ovens so they had to bring their roasts to the butcher or another marketplace to be cooked. We know they had a fire upon which to cook, as Mrs. Cratchit was described as being nervous about her plum pudding (she was unsure about the quantity of flour) as it steamed in the kettle. By the way I've had plum pudding and it's awful. Desserts in Victorian England were crap. (Not a quote from Dickens, by the way).

I am also intrigued with the scenes where the "laundress" and the undertaker fight over Scrooge's belongings, the ones the laundress and the housekeeper have stolen from Scrooge in death. The took the "fine shirt" off his cold, dead body ("As if calico ain't good enough for buryin") and sold it. They took down the bedcurtains "rings and all, with him lyin' there" and sold those as well. I was scared to death (no pun intended) of this part as a child, but yet found it morbidly fascinating.

I know Christmas is a ways off. But if you're looking for something to read, try A Christmas Carol. Read all the lines over and over until you get the true meaning. Realize the beauty of language and how it can convey so much. And then go have a dessert other than plum pudding.

Watch Out CCD!

Another summer is behind us. Well, it's not really, since we'll likely get a 98-degree heat wave in Sept and Oct, and fall doesn't actually start until Sept. 21. ( think). However, the whole ritual of Labor Day signals that summer is about to come to a close and autumn will soon follow. Fall is my favorite season. I love the cool, crisp air; the ability to be outside without melting in the heat; and the days coming to a close a little earlier. I like the school schedule now. I hated it as a student and as a teacher, but as a stay-at-home Mom it rocks! Most people dread winter, but as I've said before I don't mind it at all. I definitely could do without the snow and ice, but the cold and dark don't bother me one bit.

This year, along with starting first grade, Ava will embark on a new chapter - her religious education. She is scheduled to begin CCD classes at the end of September. In preparation, I have been teaching her to pray each night, and I took her to church yesterday. I've been wanting to go more often myself, so this is a good excuse to put Mass back into our weekly schedule. I have tried as best as I can to explain God to her; I haven't even attempted any of the more complex ideas, such as the Trinity, the Resurrection, or Communion.

I don't recall how I learned any of these things. They were taught to us in Catholic school, but I remember not really understanding any of it. We were just told to believe it, and that was that. Because of all Ava's been through surgically, I have tried to break down complex ideas into terms she can understand. But I am not sure how to break down religion; I am going to wait and see what the CCD teacher does. I am apparently the Assistant Teacher, since I have to stay in the room because of Ava's trach. So I might as well make myself useful.

Of course, our church visit was a typical Laura Beeler event. Ava has been to church before, but she is getting more curious. Of course, I was running late, and here in CT the 10:30 mass starts at 10:30 and not a minute after. I waited in the back of the church until everyone sat down for the readings, and then Ava and I, along with another tardy mother and kids, scrambled to an empty pew. It's a full house at our church, which is nice. There are only 2 Sun. am masses, so it gets full. We no sooner sit down when Ava gives me the potty sign. I knew it was coming..she has her tube feed an hour earlier so I knew she had to go. She wiggled around until everyone stood for the Alleluia, and then we hurried out the back door into the hallway to use the bathroom. I timed our re-entry perfectly, while everyone was still standing for the Gospel, but I forgot where we were sitting so as everyone is sitting waiting for the homily, Ava and I are wandering about looking for our seats. "HI everyone, please stare at us!" I was cursing under my breath, and then had to say a prayer of confession for thinking swear words in Church. I finally found our seats and sat down, mortified.

Ava was quite well behaved. I brought a book for her, but she was quite content to look around and listen to the music. The likes the kneeler. She wanted to stand and jump on it, so I had to put the ki-bosh on that. She tried kneeling but then decided she's rather sit. During the Our Father Ava signed potty again. (At least she's polite enough to sign instead of loudly stating what she needs, which is her usual MO.) Again she grabbed at her crotch while I waited until Communion and made a second mad dash for the bathroom. We entered as the Communion line was dwindling and I was able to get Communion and slither back to our seats. She liked the rest of the Mass, particularly passing the basket of money.

I didn't even know my church had a bathroom until i was about 14. I was standing in the Church hallway waiting for something, and a door swung open. I peered in, thinking it was an entrance to a secret crypt, but was I surprised to discover a bathroom in there! A BATHROOM? In CHURCH? How had this escaped me all these years? I am sure my parents never told us about it as they did not want to spend the entire Mass running to the bathroom with us. We either went before we left the house or suffered through the Mass, our own private little Passion.

I told Ava we'd be going to Church more often and that we'd be going to a class to learn more about God. She looked interested, but asked few questions. All I know is it will be interesting to see what Ava does with a bunch of nuns...God help me.