Walking into this weekend knowing this week I looked up every chance I could; realizing that life smacked me hard with its realities and they were beautiful.
The moment I watched the mom help her child off of the school bus. I was late picking up my own girls from school and frustrated with life, but the sight of the young girl lowered by the contraption designed to help those wheelchair bound leave the bus moved me. The look on the mom’s face welcoming her girl home. Their journey about the long country driveway, mom pushing wheelchair with one hand and walker with the other.
My Audrey girl looking at me with her bright blue eyes telling me I never have time for her anymore. Pausing, breathing deeply and letting the moment take me. My six-year-old needed me more than those emails, more than that pile of laundry, more than the lame dog needing another round of heating pads and pills.
Sidney hair tangled in a brush and unable to get it out. Scissors in my hands after 30 minutes of unsuccessful attempts to remove it. Frustration from me as this was not my plan for 8:30 on a Tuesday night. Then again the look in the eyes as I tell her we will have to cut it out. The hairbrush finally released and her and I laughing that now she had a bald spot. Too bad I was too absorbed in the moment to take a picture. What a photo for the album that would have made- wooden hairbrush sticking out of a head with giant tears rolling down her face. Ah but at least we took the moment to laugh.
The weekend is almost here. Thursday is upon me.
The week hit me and I looked up.
I realized that moments were made this week not by actions but by reactions.
We head home this weekend, except now home consists of a hotel room and meals eaten out.
Funny how I still call this place home when I no longer have a “home” there.
We venture back every fall so my girls can feel the place were I spent my formative years.
There will be a trip to Primanti’s were my girls will question how I could possible eat anything that consists of egg, coleslaw, french fries and meat slapped between two pieces of bread.
We will head to the farm where I picked my first pumpkins. The place where my bothers and I always had a contest to see who could pick the biggest pumpkin and carry it back to the car unassisted.
We will venture to the Strip and find crazy, cheap t-shirts that we will wear only once before they shrink down to Ellie’s size.
I will walk down streets that will overwhelm me with memories.
I will feel his presence in the strangest places- the rest stop on Highway 70, watching the leaves in Frick Park and in the smile of the women helping us check out at the market.
I go home just as much for them to know me as I do for them to know him.
I hear his voice reminding me as he often did that home is simply any place we are together.
I don’t doubt that my kids are the most important thing I have done with my life. But, what I have come to terms with is that when I am old and gray they will leave me to start their own journey and I will be left with my dog.
Ziva won’t be that dog that makes it to see my graying years but she will be there to see me through those first tentative years of life with teenagers, when those three girls dip their toes into the waters of independence.
She will sit with me on the night Sid ventures out for the first time with friends unaccompanied by an adult. No doubt she will let me stroke her ears and kiss her nose as I stare down the door waiting for it to open and my first baby to return home.
She will join me on early morning walks as I fret over the growth pattern of my youngest. Are we spoiling her too much?
She will exhale deeply with us when Audrey returns home from another gymnastics meet full of medals but minus the injuries.
She will survive the slamming of doors, the loud music and the repeated attempts to coax sullen girls from rooms.
She will listen to thousands of excuses for how she ate their homework, stole the shirt mom wanted them to wear or chewed through one of their new heels.
She will stand next to me while I make every meal; will dance with me late at night to the Indigo Girls and will comfort me when one of those beautiful little girls turned teenager tells me she hates me.
I read an article once that said dog owners who pet their animals first thing in the morning and the minute they walked in the door at night had significantly lower stress levels. No doubt there will be hundreds of minutes spent petting her over the next 5 years as she helps me to survive what may prove to be the most stressful years of parenting.
No she won’t be the best thing I have done with my life but she will make my life better.
When I was 8 I would watch the evening news and memorize the National League standings. When daddy walked in the door after a day of work I would recite those and the box scores. Daddy and I would go out to one of his events and he would find it amusing to have me recite the baseball stats to those we met. He took pride in my interest in his sport especially in his Pirates.
My sophomore year of high school Dad promised that if he could get tickets to a Pirates playoff game he would take me. He landed three and my older brother decided to forgo a weekend of parties at his private college to make the 4 hour drive home and attend with us.
We watched the Pirates take on the Braves in Game 3 of the National League Championship Series. We sat in the fourth row from the top at the now demolished Three Rivers Stadium.
The crowd was electric that night as we watched Tim Wakefield (and his knuckleball) lead the Pirates to a 3-2 victory.
I don’t believe I left my seat the entire game.
Last night, 21 years after that series would end with the Pirates loosing painfully to the Braves in Game 7, I watched Daddy’s Pirates play their wild card game with two of my own children.
The crowd still electric.
Me enamoured with Francisco Liriano’s pitching.
My Sidney memorizing the line up and my Ellie mimicking my cheers.
As many know this week has been full of ups and downs as my father in law was admitted to the hospital and subsequently spent a couple of days in the ICU. Thankfully he is now on the road to recovery (still in the hospital but on a regular floor) and we are incredibly grateful for the prayers and positive thoughts that have enveloped our family.
My moment of clarity came when I was smacked in the face with the harsh realities of a loved ones hospital stay and the complexities of everyday living. When someone you love is seriously ill you spend your moments praying for their recovery and walking the world in a haze, yet there remains riding lessons to get to, homework to be done, presentations to write and birthdays to celebrate. I am grateful beyond measure that this medical journey was over in the course of a week but what hit hard was the realization of how so many family’s deal in this reality for weeks and months at a time. They juggle it all while trying to support and care for an ill loved one…..
Here are some of our highlights from the week in picture form:
Our youngest Ellery Jane, named after two of the strongest most fearless women who walked this earth,has turned into just that- a fearless little 3-year-old!
Sidney is preparing hard for her first show this weekend. She had three lessons over the course of 5 days and a trip to the store to pick up her riding gear this week.
This was our Audrey girl last night. Not sure if you can tell but she had already had a bath and was heading up to bed when she realized that she had homework she needed to complete and of course no sharp pencil to be found.
Our 4-year-old Welsh Springer Spanial had what appears to be a seizure yesterday afternoon so the little girls and I spent part of last night at the vet while Brock took Sid to riding. Poor girl was worn out after her adventure but we are hopeful she too is on the mend.
Finally god love the boy! Now that we can actually see his eyes we can tell when he is begging. This is a daily occurance in our house.
Let me preface this by saying I know you can’t read. While I do believe that you are quite possibly one of the smartest kids to ever walk the planet I don’t however think you are scouring the internet for my blog posts 12 hours before you turn 3. In fact you are safely ensconced in your nursery upstairs sleeping away the last few hours of your two-year old year.
On this day three years ago your father, sisters and I had managed to devour more fried rice then humanly possible. We had toasted your impending arrival at the local Japanese Steakhouse (a tradition we had started the night before the birth of your eldest sister) and manged to stuff ourselves silly with Tereyaki chicken and one too many fried won tons as well. We sat around the Hibachi grill laughing hysterically at the antics of your 6 and 3-year-old sisters wondering what the table would look like with one more seat taken.
Ellery Jane our table is so beautifully set with you at it. You with your bright eyes, wild hair and crazy conversations. Tonight you told your gymnastics teacher that you were “feeling a tad ridicules” while doing a backward roll and we all exploded at the words that managed to come out of that little dynamite body of yours.
You my child are a forceful presence. You don’t shy away from a challenge and bring a zest for living rivaled by no one I have met.
I often pause and look at you to thank God for the gift of parenting a child so different from myself. I was such a pleaser as a kid. First to bed at night because it made my parents happy; always a smile on my face even in the darkest of days.
You on the other hand choose to embrace your sad days with straightforward honesty and your happy days are full of pleasure you take from your own doing.
Three is a good number Ellery. The third girl born shortly after her parents 33 birthday will no doubt have a fabulous third year.
Many adventures await you my darling but I know I don’t need to tell you that.
Your daddy and I love you so much. Go now and run into this your third year. Your daddy and I will be chasing after you.
I’m in a rush. Quick stop to pick up a birthday card and then pile back into the car and take the big girls to gymnastics, at least that’s my plan.
We run into the Hallmark store. Sid and Aud occupied by the Christmas tree ornaments on display (yes on September 16). I grab the card and head to the check out thrilled with my own ability to pick the most appropriate birthday sentiments with record-breaking speed. Patting myself on the back that as the only one at the check out my plan will work, I will make it out faster than even I had intended and should land at gymnastics a full 2 minutes ahead of start time.
It is there at the check out that I get delayed. My money lifted in hand to pay.
The couple takes me by surprise. I had not seen them enter or heard them in the store as my girls giggled and I raced.
He asks the cashier next to me how the crazy stuffed animal that sings a Halloween song works. She shows him and then his wife lays out a most surprising laugh.
He in his Sunday best (only that it’s a Monday night at 6:30), tie and all. Her in her “go to meeting clothes” as well. Together they had to have a combined 160 years of living between them and there they stand laughing over the animated stuffed animals that I always find so annoying.
I pause to just watch them; to take it all in. Almost as if on autopilot she stretches her arm to reach his tie. She gives it a quick nudge to straighten. I stumble over my “rewards number” for the cashier and gather up the girls to leave.
Moving to our car I can’t stop thinking about them. We pile in, the girls chattering about the newest Barbie ornament and it is there I pause again.
They are walking out of the store. His 80 plus years of living have worn down his shoulders as he walks hunched. He holds the door for her and they walk to the sidewalk. Wordlessly he holds out his hand for her and helps her down the step.
I ask the girls to look at the couple and in silence all three of us watch them walk across the parking lot to their ancient Crown Victoria.
The miles logged by those legs.
The girls and I drive away still without the words.
When I pull into gymnastics and look down at the clock I realize that the girls will be a full 5 minutes late to class and I really don’t care. The pause in the day was worth it.
These ladies walked into my life the fall of my freshman year of college. They have been firmly engrained there ever since.
Labor Day 2013 marked the second annual girls weekend get together. Last year we all stayed in one home, this year we had to upgrade to two house with the addition of the 9th baby, the ever adorable Emma Katherine. So that’s 8 adults and 9 kids together for a weekend of fun and celebration.
Labor Day 2012
Labor Day 2013
We planned activities. There was the zoo outing.
I think the men would have rather walked on hot coals then spend hundreds of dollars on a barely touched and poorly cooked lunch from the overcrowded eating area at the zoo.
This was about the time that we all decided it was best to abandon ship and go home.
Although we did have moments like this:
And this:
There was alot of this over the course of the weekend:
Great conversation and great cuddles.
It dawned on me at one point during the weekend that we have entered a new phase of our friendship. Emma will most likely be the last baby of this bunch.
It’s actually really sad for me to think. I feel like I have just passed through my own intense period of parenting and in my head always thought I had plenty of time to love up all of my friend’s babies and pass on that well-earned wisdom. Ah not so much.
My head has been down these last nine years focusing on getting through the trenches of babyhood that I forgot to look up and love on those that call me “Aunt H”.
I always wanted a big family, four kids at minimum. I realize that the chances of me having more children are slim to none but what hit me hard Labor Day weekend was that because of these ladies I do get the chance to be a part of a large, rambunctious family. More moments connecting with all of these children will be in my future.
I have a bit of a cold. you know the kind that makes you feel like you are going to sneeze every 5 seconds but you never actually do and your eyes end up watering for eternity and your head feels like it will explode? Strike that I don’t have a BIT of a cold, I HAVE a cold. So I suffer through attempting to give 90% when I really only have 5% left to give. But that is life. You are often asked to give more than you can, more than is physically possible.
There is light at the end of the tunnel.Some of my besties (aka the ladies who have known me since I was a bright-eyed, supremely naive college freshman) are coming into town this weekend. The hubbies and the babies are coming too. It is all just so good! There will be a lot of cuddling of children, belly laughs, wine and I am sure deep heartfelt conversation.
These ladies are stretched to the max. They manage jobs and families and still travel hundreds of miles this weekend to spend time with us. Talk about giving when you have not much left in you- one of them moved last week. Yes, moved her entire little family of four (and by little I mean two little ones under the age of three) into a new home and instead of staying home and unpacking their lives they choose to come here. That is a way better example of giving when you have not much left in you then my little cold!
Isn’t it in these moments of giving when we feel stretched that we receive the greatest rewards?
Four women, four husbands, nine children and 17 years of friendship, looking forward to the adventure of this weekend.
“All of my life is arm and arm with you. When you’ve got trouble I’ve got trouble too…. Our lives are intertwined. I’ll ease your pain because you’ve eased mine.”
9 years ago today you burst forth into our world. You turned two self-centered and broken 27 year olds into parents and began us on a journey we could have never dreamed possible.
From your first days on this planet you brought immeasurable joy to our lives and challenged us to become better people. Nine years later nothing has changed.
You have always been in a hurry. It started when we had planned your birth to occur one week before your due date (wouldn’t you know you have a bit of your father’s stubborn streak and you did not want to flip into the appropriate birth position). When we arrived at the hospital in the very early morning hours of August 27, 2004 the doctors performed the standard ultrasound to confirm your position before surgery. They discovered that at some point in the days prior I had begun to lose amniotic fluid and you my child were swimming in very little of it. It was as if you were trying to assure your family that you did in fact want out now so please just get on with it.
The joy on the day of your birth could not possibly be quantified and that was just the start of it! I didn’t understand how my heart could grow and stretch to accommodate all of the joy that one little girl could bring.
It is such a privilege to be your parent Sid. From your earliest days when we learned of your colic and found that the only thing that would soothe you would be the heartbeats of your parents, we knew that our bond would be a very special one. To this day you are the first of my girls to run into my arms for a hug when I walk in the door after work and you are always sensitive to the moods of both your daddy and I. You rush to the scene dolling out comfort when one of your family members needs it.
You love your animals, your horses and your doggies.
Today my heart breaks a little when I see you ride your ponies. I think about how independent you now are. You in the stall tacking up, no help from your teacher. And then on your horse (jumping now eeks), pushing us with your desire to do it all on your own. Still in your own time. One day my darling you too will be a mom and you will understand how someone can be so happy and so sad in the same moment.
You my precious girl are strong in both body and spirit. I am amazed every day how you have grown from this-
to this:
Remember how strong you are in the years ahead when someone tells you that you are not perfect (it will happen we all get our hearts broken). Recall the way you shoot a basket, how you swim like a dolphin, can catch a fish (almost bare handed) and how you are loved and cherished by your parents and God.
I always tell you how I wish I could slow down time so you could stay little forever.
But Sidney this life, your life, it is not about me. It’s not about your dad either, or your sisters or your friends. It’s about you. We can’t force you to stay little. Your job now is to grow and thrive and learn. You have the power to turn your life into anything imaginable (although I do need to tell you that your chances of becoming a Thoroughbred jockey are slim to none as I believe you surpassed their height requirements in the third grade).
Sidney Reagan Schmaltz, on this your 9th birthday your dad and I thank God for the gift of your life. You are a promised fulfilled. Now get on with it and show the world what you are capable of!
A Joyful Life 