Tag: Parents

Why? Why Am I Keeping These? Why?

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

If you’ve seen the television show “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, you know little Cindy-lou Who, who is no more than two. And, you know little Cindy-lou Who, who is no more than two, sees Santa trying to stuff her family’s Christmas tree up the chimney. When she sees Santa, she asks, “Why, San’tee Claus? Why? Why are you taking our Christmas tree? Why?”

Now, this is not a post about the Grinch, Cindy-lou Who, who is no more than two, or Christmas. This is a post about ‘why‘. Why do we do some of the things that we do? Why, people of the world? Why do we collect the baby teeth of our kids? Why?

Our oldest has now lost a total of three baby teeth. And, rather than throwing my son’s teeth away, I feel the need to save the teeth. I have the teeth safely stored in a special ‘little teeth’ container. And, I have the little container hidden, so my child doesn’t come across what the tooth fairy was to have taken with her. Why?!

Are we suppose to keep the first nail we clip from our child’s fingers and toes? That’s crazy gross, right? Well, why do we keep the teeth? And, how many parents have a lock of hair from their child’s first haircut? Why do we feel the need to collect bits and pieces of our children? And, why do these sorts of collections leave me feeling like I am a target for Dexter?

Who was the first Mom to keep their child’s tooth? And, why – oh why – did this become tradition? People of the world – is baby-teeth collecting a global thing? Or, are crazy Americans the only weirdos with a collection of baby teeth safely tucked away in a special container in one of their bedroom dresser drawers?

In this day and age where over-sharing is the norm, I am going to spare you a picture of my son’s 3 baby teeth. Let the record show, that even I have limits to the amount of information I share with the world. (Though clearly, my limits are few.) Now, if you’ll excuse me, my child just lost his first eyelash.

He said, and she was interrupted

~ Lenore Diane ~ 1 Comment

One nice afternoon, Rob took the boys outside to play. While he was outside, he noticed Bill coming out with his kids. Rob walked over to Bill’s house.

“So Bill,” Rob begins. “How are you doing?”

“Great, Rob.” Bill replied. “How are things with you?”

“Can’t complain. Can’t complain.” Rob said. “Hey, did you take part in The Big Green Egg Festival this past weekend?”

“Actually, Rob, I did. I’ll go get a couple of beers, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Great! I’ll take an Oktoberfest, please.”

“You got it.”

Moments later, Bill returns with two cold beers. He begins to tell Rob all about the Egg-fest. Two hours (and two more beers) later, Betty and Veronica emerge from the house.

“Hey guys!” The gals yell in unison, “Where are the kids?”

The guys look at each other, shrug their shoulders and say, “They’re around here somewhere.”

###

One nice afternoon, Betty takes her kids outside to play. She notices Veronica is already out with her kids, so she joins her in the driveway.

“Hi, Veronica.” Betty says with smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Veronica says. “Adam! Stay out of the mud, please!”

“Where is Bill?”

“Oh, he’s inside resting. And, Rob? Stephanie! Leave the cat alone!”

“Inside resting.”

“Did I tell you my Auntie was coming in town from England?” Betty asks.

“No. When will she be in town?” Veronica responds.

“Well, it looks like -” Betty stops short, “David! Don’t throw rocks at your sister!”

She continues, “It looks like she’ll arrive -”  Veronica cuts her off, “Oh. Hang on a second – Adam! Stop digging around Mr. Smith’s yard.”

“Sorry.” Veronica says.

“She’ll arrive later this week. She has her last show in London on Tuesday, and she’ll –  Stephanie! Quit pulling the cat’s tail!”

“Her show?” Veronica inquires. “Is she an actress?”

“Yes. She’s been – “David! What did I say about the rocks?”

“Adam! Get out of the street! There is a car coming!”

“Stephanie, did you wet your pants?”

“Scott! Don’t run or you’re going to – SCOTT! Are you OK?”

“Sorry, Veronica. We need to cut this short. Maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“That’s fine.”

Betty and Veronica head back inside with the kids. Bill greets Betty by asking “How is Veronica doing? Did you gals have a nice conversation?”

Musings of the Mind

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

Please indulge me. Typically, my rambling posts take place on Friday; however, I feel the need to ramble today. So many thoughts are filling my head, I fear I will explode if I don’t release some of the pressure. Some of these ramblings may be repeats. My apologies.

My friend emailed me last night, providing me with an update on her Mom. The news was not good. We all hoped (and prayed) the chemo was working to reduce the size of the tumors. Unfortunately, the CT scan showed the chemo did not work, and the tumors showed signs of growth. Fortunately, my friend’s Mom started a new chemo-cocktail yesterday. Again, we turn to hope and prayers to yield the results we want.

My friend is off to see her Mom later this month. She’ll get to spend quality time with her Mom – just the two of them. As my friend shared the news with me that she purchased the tickets and made the plans, I remembered my Dad.

January 1994. My family had mentioned Dad seemed depressed. My family had mentioned my Dad was not acting like his normal self. Though no one in the family knew what was going on with my Dad, it was apparent something was happening. Mid-January. I buy a ticket to fly home the 2nd week of February to be with my Dad and family. Late January. We find out my Dad has Lung Cancer.

February 4, 1994. I receive a phone call at work. It was my sister. My Dad was admitted to the hospital. Another sister of mine was working with Delta (she’s a flight attendant) to help me get a plane ticket to Atlanta. I leave work, and head to my place in DC before heading to the airport.

I think I arrived in Atlanta around 4pm. My sister-in-law’s parents met me at the airport and drove me to Piedmont Hospital. The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever (as did the flight from DC to Atlanta, for that matter). I don’t remember what my sister-in-law’s parents told me. I was in a daze. I was nervous. And, my stomach was in knots just like my stomach is in knots now, as I retell the story.

Walking with my friend through her Mom’s Cancer battle, takes me back to my walk during my Dad’s battle, his incredibly short battle. I met my friend (and another) prior to my Dad’s death, and my friend (and the other) got me through my Dad’s death.

I didn’t have the prep-time my friend has with her Mom. I was called. I boarded a plane. And, I saw my Dad – unconscious. He was in and out of consciousness before I arrived in Atlanta, and my Mom and siblings told him I was on the way to see him. But, I didn’t make it. He did not regain consciousness after I arrived, and he died shortly after midnight, February 5th. My Dad was gone. And, I did not have the kind of closure that eases the horrific sting of death. I admit there is a selfish side to me walking with my friend, as her Mom battles cancer; walking with my friend helps me come to terms with my Dad’s death.

He’s been gone for 16yrs. The intense pain I felt when he died has lessened significantly. But, as those of you who have lost a loved one know, the pain never truly goes away. And, as sick as it sounds, I find it comforting to feel the sadness again. I find it comforting to feel the pain. It is as if my Dad is with me all over again. Though I don’t remember him as the man hooked up to the respirator, unconscious. I remember him smiling, smoking, drinking, joking and being the burly New Englander, striking fear in my friends with his deep voice and subtle humor. I remember his laugh. And, I remember him answering the phone by saying, “Yell’oh.” (That’s Yankee for ‘Hello’.)

Hmm . . . maybe my head isn’t overwhelmed with countless thoughts at once. Perhaps my head is just filled with thoughts of my Dad and thoughts of my friend and her Mom. No. Really, my head is filled with other stuff, too. But compared to family and friends, the other stuff is just crap. I won’t sweat that other stuff, and you shouldn’t either. Now, reach out to a loved one by phone, email or better yet – send a card or letter via snail mail. Why not?