The Story

Tradition.  Most people can identify at least one.  Perhaps it's a meal always eaten on a certain holiday.  Perhaps it's a movie always enjoyed at a certain time of year.  Perhaps a song.  Perhaps a flower, always planted at a gravesite on Memorial Day.  So many traditions.  They come.  They go.  They get passed down.  They fade.  They become forgotten.

Then, there are things so steeped in tradition, you wonder how you would live without them.  In our family, that tradition is simply referred to as "the story."

When I was a little girl, in the early 70's, I remember getting packed up on Christmas Eve.  We piled into the car and headed off to Bah's house.  He was my grandfather.  I remember the sounds and smells.  The house was always cozy.  It smelled like my grandfather's house.  As a young child, it smelled like Bah's house.  It smelled like Brownie, his dog.  It smelled of cigarette smoke; what house didn't?  It smelled of family dinners and sweet treats.  It smelled like a cottage and the perfume of my aunt.  Every year brought memories of the years before.  Every year played out, much the same.  We would all gather together.  My grandparents, Uncle, Aunt, parents, brothers, and I.  When it was time for "the story," I would take my place on the floor.  My Uncle and his wife, would sit side-by-side on the couch.  My grandfather would sit in his chair, and out came the little green book.  Silence would befall the room.  Bah would give a brief history, then he would read the story.  Everyone listened.  Everyone respected the story, as much as the tradition.

Sometimes, the grown-ups would cry.  I wasn't sure why the story brought tears.  Somehow, I didn't need to know.  I didn't need to understand.  It was part of the tradition.

After the story, we would eat.  It's how we spent Christmas Eve.  Every year.  Without fail.

To understand the depth of this story.  Allow me to back up.

In 1873, there was a young girl named Hattie.  At Christmas time, Hattie's Mama bought her a little green book.  Hidden within it's pages was a beautiful story about a Father, his children, Christmas, loss, and the awakening of renewed hope.  On Christmas Eve, Hattie's Mama read that story to her little girl.  In 1874, that story was read again.  We will never know if Hattie requested the story, or if a parent simply made the decision to re-read the story.  What matters is this....in 1873, a tradition unknowingly began....

It has been said that on one Christmas Eve, many moons ago, my grandfather had not yet arrived home.  It was a cold New England night.  Snow was blanketing the earth.  Family had gathered, as it had since 1873, wondering if the story would be read without it's typical narrator.  But, alas, much like an old time Christmas movie that leaves it's viewers with goosebumps and tears in their eyes, my grandfather came through the door.  He made it home for "the story."

Every year, family makes it home for the story.  Every.  Single.  Year.  Without fail.

In the 80's, there was the wayward son.  He lived in Maine.  He had a contagious laugh and a heart of gold.  He loved and was loved.  He was not, however, always completely dependable.  This particular year, I wondered if he would miss our annual Christmas Eve tradition.  But, like the grandfather decades earlier, he arrived a day or so before.  He arrived like a scene out of the Beverly Hillbillies... driving an overflowing truck loaded with he, his wife, their animals, various belongings, clothes, gifts, and assorted treasures.  At the sight of him, I knew it was Christmas.

Yes, "the story" has endured.  It is so steeped in tradition that no one would consider being absent from it.   Every year it somehow becomes more important.

It took years for me to understand the behavior of my elders.  As my grandfather aged, his wife long since buried, the tradition of the story was moved to my parents home.  When my grandfather died, it was Thanksgiving.  I was about 10.  Before the funeral, our family gathered in a quiet room, near the casket.  We listened to the tape recording of Bah reading the story.  I cried.  It was the first time I cried for the story.

The story, itself, is not particularly sad.  It tells the tale of a father, much like Scrooge, who needs help to find the spirit of Christmas.  The story is so much more than it's words.  It is wrapped up with the memories of past Christmas Eves.  The story somehow absorbs every family member.....every sight, smell, and gathering.  When the pages are revisited, the story brings it all back to you.  It is history revisited.  The tears are for those no longer sitting by our side.  The tears are for those we long for.  The tears are for the past, the present, and the future.  When the story is read, it is timeless.  It is the past, the present, and the future.

The year after my grandfather died, my Dad became the patriarch.  He read the story and many of us shed tears for the generation that had passed.  And so it goes, year after year, the story is read.  The tradition continues.  From time to time, we face a gathering with a new empty seat.  In 2010, the wayward son (my brother) did not arrive for the story....the story was difficult for him.  He arrived hours later and made an appearance.  The following year, 2011, the empty chair was his.  He had joined the family members who had gone before him.  The story was read.  The adults cried.  The children watched quietly, like the generations before them.  Their turn will come.

And now, we rapidly approach the 147th year of a long-standing family tradition.

It's the year of the pandemic.  We've been told to socially distance.  Stay six feet apart.  Wear masks.  Celebrate only with your immediate household members.  Children may be carriers, but asymptomatic.  For some, it mimics a mild cold; for some, a death sentence.  A vaccine is just starting to roll out.  So, we shall do what's safe for all.  We will choose to celebrate from a distance.

I'm angry at this pandemic, for interfering with our tradition.  I miss my family but am grateful that they are well.  I am grateful that this beast hasn't taken any of them away.  I will miss the sights and smells, of our annual gathering.  I will miss the food and conversation.  I will miss the hugs.  I will miss the closeness.

Indeed.  This year will be very different.  We will do gift drop-offs and pick-ups.  We may exchange food/treats.  Some gifts have been mailed to their recipients.  We will still gather on Christmas Eve, virtually.  We will listen to the story "together" via video messaging.  We will wave to each other and shout phrases of love and good tidings.  We will eat with our own immediate family members.  We will open gifts in the sanctity of our own homes.  We will wake up Christmas morning to quiet homes without visitors or large gatherings.

This year I may cry.  I will cry because I miss my grandfather.  I will cry because I miss my brother.  My grandmother.  My two husbands.  I will cry for the family that awaits us in Heaven.  But this year is different.

I will cry because I miss my parents.  I want to hug my Daddy.  I will cry because I'm unable to bring "the story" to my aunt, who resides in a long term care facility; the pandemic makes that venture impossible.  I will cry because I miss my remaining brother.  Sister in law.  Sister.  Nephew.  Niece.  Family.  I miss the people who make me who I am.  I miss the people for whom my heart beats.  Yes, I expect I will cry this year.  I will hug my children.  I will enjoy Christmas with my children.  But, there will be tears.  Tears for the past, the present, and the future.

I will pray that next year is back to normal.  I will pray that we can all be together next year.  I will pray for no additional empty seats next year.  I will pray for our 148th year.  I know that whatever it looks like, in whatever way possible, we will be there.  We will be together again.  We are family.  It is our story.

It's tradition.

Fall into Winter

As the summer days passed by, we spent our time making memories.  Our oldest attended summer camp, the middle boy attended preschool, and Josiah had his usual fill of early intervention and outside therapies.  With each passing day, we could feel Fall approaching.  Each day, we were one day closer to the change that each Fall brings.  By the third week of August, we frantically tried to slow time down.  We added family activities to the schedule...knowing we would soon be limited by school-year scheduling.  By the last week of August, it had all come to pass.  Summer had ended.  The oldest began 2nd grade.  The 4 year old embraced a new school year, at his preschool.  Labor Day was right around the corner.

As September began, we counted the weeks until Josiah turned three.  The big boys were in school, full time.  Around the corner, big changes were in the air. Josiah was about to start preschool, in the local public school.  Our first IEP was in our immediate future.  Early Intervention was going to come to a grinding halt.  Our way of life, for 3 years, was about to change.  Though exciting, we were feeling the nervous energy that often accompanies anticipation.

By mid-Sept, we had received notice of the scheduled IEP meeting.  I didn't know if I should be excited or dread it's very existence.  I had heard nightmares about IEP meetings, attitudes, different perspectives where no one is willing to work together, etc.  The morning of the IEP meeting finally arrived.  Carl & I arrived to the school with Josiah's EI worker & an advocate from the local DDS office.  We were, truthfully, prepared to be unimpressed.  

I was never so pleased to be proven wrong!!!!  The IEP meeting was amazing!  They had considered everything & then some!  Josiah's needs had already been considered.  Special accommodations had already been thoughtfully planned out.  They were offering him 7 therapies per week, in addition to his classroom work.  They offered him an extended school year so that he can attend in the summer.  They had already included sign language as a method of communication (as Josiah has few spoken words). 

I asked only for two things: 1.  Potty training - it was included before I could finish speaking.  2.  A communication log - which was implemented on day one & has been a constant!  We walked away impressed.  We walked away knowing that we were blessed!  This was the right place for Josiah.  We didn't need to fear the unknown any longer.

As we prepared for Josiah's first day of school, we said our goodbye's to Early Intervention.  We said goodbye to the Early Intervention Child Coordinator who had been with us from the very beginning.  It was a strange sensation....to be actively involved with a team of people, then they simply stop coming.  Strange, strange, indeed.

Before we had time to mourn the loss of our friends, we quickly met new friends as Josiah's Physical therapy was moved to an outside agency (where he was already receiving OT and Speech).  Josiah transitioned nicely to all the changes.  Before we knew what was happening, it was the first day of preschool.  He was up, fed, dressed, and outside waiting for his bus.  We could hardly believe our eyes.

 

And so it began, mid-October.  Josiah attended his first day of preschool.  There were a few tears, the first two days of school, then he was off and running.  He attends school 4 days per week, 2.5 hours per day.  During those four days, he received OT 2x/week, PT 2x/week, and Speech 3x/week.  Two afternoons per week, he attends therapy at an outside agency....OT, PT, and Speech, each day.  That's 13 therapies per week!!!  Unbelievable!!!

So, four days per week, this Mama finds herself with 2.5 hours to get errands done, clean the house, do laundry, change beds, etc....without interruption.  By lunch time, each day, Josiah happily arrives home.

This has been our life for the past 10 weeks.  Meanwhile, we've celebrated family birthdays, enjoyed Thanksgiving, survived a stomach bug, and now excitedly prepare for Christmas.

This Mama finds herself tired....blessed, but tired.

 

Enjoy every single moment, as they cannot be repeated

Holidays and Happy New Year

It seems that Halloween ends and Christmas becomes this Mama's focus.  Do I have my list?  What am I going to buy for everyone?  How much should I spend on each person?  Etc.  Yes, Christmas definitely becomes a focal point in this house.

Thanksgiving was beautifully spent with family.

Two days later, a little elf arrived at our house.  This was to be our new family tradition. We read the book (the boys had already seen the tv special).  The boys set out on their task of naming our little elf.  Before long, the name "Stinky Chips" was chosen.  Stinky Chips was a good little elf.  He didn't get into much trouble and was only touched once by our oldest (age 6, at the time).  An emergency intervention gave Stinky Chips back his magic and the rest of his time here was without incident.

Yes, Stinky Chips helped pass the time awaiting Santa's arrival.  We did a lot (most) of our shopping online this year.  Gifts simply arrived at our doorstep.  We wrapped and labeled them.  It just seemed the easiest thing to do.  The oldest is in 1st grade, has almost-nightly homework, and karate 3x per week.  The middle child is in 1/2 day preschool, and is a whirlwind of activity in his own right.  Josiah has EI 2x per week, OT 2x per week, Speech 2x per week, and playgroup 1x per week.  After adding in random doctor's appointments, errands, etc, there hardly seemed time to shop.  Online shopping saved my sanity.

In the middle of Holiday preparations, we decided to plan a trip.  My parents are going to Florida in 2014 and asked us to join them for a portion of the trip.  So, after searching for the perfect price (which doesn't exist), we purchased airfare for us to fly to Florida.  Disney is the destination.  2014 holds something fun to look forward to....

We managed to keep the upcoming trip a secret....until Christmas Eve.  Then, we told the boys.  They are excited as kids can be who have no idea what to expect.  I am excited for them.  They are going to love it.

For the third Christmas Eve, we celebrated at my parents home.  We read the same story that has been read to my family since 1873.  We opened gifts from those would not see the next day.  We ate great food.  Once the older traditions were complete, we wrote messages on balloons to Scott (my beloved brother), formed a circle on the back deck (each with a hand on the balloons), played "We'll meet again" (Inkspots), wished Scott a Merry Christmas in Heaven, and released the balloons.  

The next day, we celebrated at our own home.  It's always fun when the big boys run downstairs to tell us that Santa Claus has visited our house.  We spent the day opening gifts, preparing (and eating) dinner, and visiting with family.  It was a lovely day.  Josiah was particularly fun this year.  He's two.  He's a fun age for a Christmas celebration.

Though I usually enjoy leaving my tree up, this year it only lasted a couple days into the new year.  Beneath the branches, had become a 'dumping ground' for all the opened but yet-to-be-put-away gifts.  Josiah had also become a master at pulling on those aforementioned branches.  We had a dumping ground under a very tilted tree.  Yes, it was time for the tree to go.

As the new year approached, one more test had been passed.  We made it through the month of December without RSV.  This is the first year Josiah has made it through the month of December without RSV and a resulting trip to Children's. 

Happy New Year!!! 

Making a List and Checking it Twice

No, I have not been Christmas shopping.  I have not even started that list yet.  However, I have had a running tally of appointments that I was supposed to make and hadn't gotten around to it yet.  So, this morning, I took the bull by the horns and grabbed my phone.

Josiah was first seen by audiology shortly after birth.  He had failed his newborn screening.  He was essentially cleared.  We were supposed to follow up with them at one year.  Well, Josiah was checked by audiology at Children's twice since then.  Both times, results were inconclusive.  So, we decided to schedule this follow up for the local office (where he had had his first screening).  By the end of next week, that follow up will be done!

I had scheduled Josiah for his first dental appointment back in January.  Kids with DS tend to have increased levels of bacteria in their mouths.  They also tend to have more dental issues.  Well, his DS clinic was in January.  I jumped to the conclusion that he would be seen by dental at the clinic.  As circumstances would have it, the dental staff was at a conference the day we were they.  Therefore, Josiah was never seen.  I've been meaning to call our local office to reschedule that.  By the end of next week, that appointment will be completed!  (And, as luck would have it, they are able to see the older boys at the same time).

Oh yeah, when I talked to the dental office, they asked about Josiah's health.  When I told them about Josiah's OHS (open heart surgery) last January, they asked for something in writing from the cardiologist.  They need to know if Josiah requires pre-meds for dental visits.  Wow!!!  Not once have I ever considered that possibility.  I said, " I don't think so."  As I thought about it more though, I wonder....  My Mom has a steel plate in her toe and requires antibiotics before dental work.  Josiah's sternum was put back together with steel ties after surgery.  Hmmmm.  Well, needless-to-say, I have a call in to the cardiology department.  I'm waiting to hear from them. 

Meanwhile, Josiah's orthopedic appointment is in a few weeks; His next DS clinic is in September; and, his next vision follow up is in October.

There!!!!  I did it.

Now, I just need to call the pediatrician's office at the end of August to schedule his flu shot.

My theme this week: It truly is the little things :)

Christmas 2011

Last year, we had finished shopping & had all gifts wrapped by August.  This year, the extreme was true.  We were still shopping on 12/22, wrapped what was necessary for 12/24 (about 4 gifts), then stayed up until 6:30am wrapping everything else.  I'm going to try not to let that happen again next year :)

Christmas Eve we spent at my parents house, participating in a 130+ year tradition.  We gathered to read what we refer to as "the Christmas story," the same one that's been read in our family, on Xmas eve, since 1872.  This was the first Christmas Eve without my brother, Scott.

In an effort to keep Scott's memory alive (and positive), I devised a 'new tradition.'  My Dad read the story, then I pulled out a helium filled balloon.  On it, I had written these words (which I found on the net, by an unknown author):

"If tears could build a highway
and memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to Heaven
and bring you home again."

We passed the balloon around the room, and everyone added their own messages to Scott.  Once all messages had been written, we went out onto my parents back deck.  We held the string to the balloon, wished Scott a Merry Christmas, and let go....launching the balloon towards Heaven.  It was a touching moment.  I hope to continue that tradition hereafter.

As for the boys....they had a great time receiving stockings that Santa leaves at their grandparents house.  They exchanged gifts with those that wouldn't be present on Christmas Day.  Josiah is too young to be an active participant.  His two year old brother still likes boxes more than what is contained within.  The four year old just loves Christmas.  My husband and I have so much fun watching him.  I said to Carl, "Isn't there something magical about watching Christmas through the eyes of a child."

Christmas Day was spent at our house.  Santa came through for the four year old, bringing the very gifts he'd asked for.  How magical it is.  The two year old enjoyed mess-making & Josiah observed and slept lol.

On Monday, we spent the day at Nana's house.  The boys enjoyed the day with their Nana, Uncle, and Auntie.  The oldest (the little firefighter) was gifted a beautiful ride-on pedal firetruck!  Wow, did his eyes light up when he saw that.  He and his 2-yr old brother had a blast playing with that.  The younger boys got tons of great interactive toys....which they love :)

Carl & I are so blessed with the wonderful family we have <3

I look forward to all our future Christmas's.  It is such a great time of year.  I'm sorry that my brother Scott won't be here to enjoy them with us. 

May the balloon filled with words of love find its way to Heaven, every year.  Merry Christmas, Scott <3