Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

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My Body

Posted on March 21, 2012 Written by Tonya

My body is strong.

My body carries me and my body lets me down.

My limbs contort and stretch, pushing, pulling, reaching, carrying, holding.

I sit cross-legged along side my energetic little boy and move cars and trains around a track, help him with puzzle pieces, locate lost toys under the couch, stack blocks and build towers with Legos

I chase my son around the park and delight as I listen to his sweet laughter.

I lean over the bathtub and scrub away dirt and grim that has been collected during the day with a warm wash cloth.

I sing, dance, giggle and tickle.

I lift and cradle my precious boy every opportunity I get.

My body gains and loses and lifts weight. It sweats as I push it and I feel as though my heart might burst right out of it’s chest cavity.

My body makes me feel alive.

My lungs take in fresh sea air as I walk along the beach searching for calm and answers.

Mercifully at the end of each day, my body lets me rest peacefully.

The best thing my body has done, and the thing that I will forever be in awe of; was to  allow me to carry a baby to term and deliver my son. For that, I will always feel empowered, important and grateful.

The worst thing about my body and the thing that makes me hate it; it refuses to let me do it again. Once so capable, it now struggles.

My body has let me down.

My body is strong.

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Filed Under: annoyances, difficult subjects, exercise, gratitude, lyrics, miscarriage, pregnancy Tagged With: annoyances, difficult subjects, exercise, gratitude, lyrics, miscarriage, pregnancy

I Want To Be Just Like My Dad

Posted on March 20, 2012 Written by Tonya

The very first blog I read was Coreen’s, The Adventures of Captain Fussypants & Little Miss. We were friends long before either of us blogged, but it’s was her willingness (know-how and wit) to share her life as a new mom that made me want to start Letters For Lucas.

Coreen and I are alike in so many ways and in the ways we are different, we learn from one another. She is not only a true confident and an amazing person, she is also one of the busiest working mothers I know and I’ll never know how she juggles it all.

I am blessed to have Coreen in my life and honored to have her here today with a tender letter to her husband carefully letting him know what a wonderful father he is and what amazing children they have created together. 

Mi esposo,

When I learned our firstborn was a boy, I had a momentary panic attack. I’m a girl! What did I know about raising a boy, teaching him to become a good man? But that’s all it was, a moment. Because I knew I had you to help me.

We are lucky, you and I, that we share the same values, that we are a team and that we each come from parents that have been married over 40 years. Although we are two different people, our love is the same, solid. And as parents, we are a united front.

The awe and responsibility of caring for someone other than yourself is daunting. And with your work schedule taking you away days at a time, it’s even more so, for both of us. I know you feel you miss out. Childhood is full of so many firsts and made up of so many moments, that you don’t get to be a part of firsthand. Pictures, video, Skype, it all helps, but isn’t the same thing. But our children have only ever known you with this work schedule and they are not fazed by it because when you are home, you are there for them.

I know you worry that our son won’t be strong or be able to stand up for himself. Raising a child to be confident and self-sufficient is a huge undertaking. But I write this to assure you that he is already strong and confident. I watched him from the sidelines as he approached boys twice his age to ask to be part of their flag football game and my heart swelled with pride that he knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. He will be able to hold his own.

I know you worry that he will be the weird kid who will only eat plain noodles. But I write this to assure you that he isn’t afraid to try new things.

I know you worry he’ll turn into a wuss spending so much time with his mama. But I write this to assure you that he won’t. I won’t allow that to happen, because while a mama’s boy at 5 may be endearing, at 25 it is obnoxious. But I’ll snuggle him as long as he lets me.

I write this to assure you that while our son is a sweet, smart, imaginative and kind boy, he is also willful, clever, and competitive. Just like you.

He is a perfect blend of the best of both of us and that is a gift we need to embrace. Because as he grows, he’ll become his own person and will need us less. But I write this to assure you that we are equipping him with the right ideals, what it means to be kind, how to share, work hard, be respectful and confident. We are making him strong.

Our son hangs on your every word, so I write this as a gentle reminder to chose your words with care because when our son says, “When I grow up I want to be a race car driver, a motorcycle rider, a firefighter, a paleontologist, a soccer player, a hockey player and a chef. There are so many cool things to be, I don’t know which one to pick”.

What he is really saying is, “I want to be just like my dad”.

I write this to thank you for being a good dad, a good husband and my best friend.

I write this because I can’t imagine doing it without you.

And if our not quite two year old daughter’s early “terrible twos” stage is any indication, then we are really going to need to parent as a united front during the teen years because I certainly don’t want to do that without you!

Love,

Coreen

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Filed Under: friends, gender differences, guest post, Letters For You, marriage, parenting Tagged With: friends, guest post, Letters For You, marriage, parenting, The Adventures of Captain Fussypants & Little Miss

My Tree: A Timeline

Posted on March 19, 2012 Written by Tonya

As you may or may not know, my parents died while working in Tunis, Tunisia. My father was the principal of an American international school and my mother was a third-grade teacher.

A month after they died, the school planted two olive trees on campus in their memory. It was a lovely gesture and my sister, husband and I were to attend the dedication ceremony. I often think about those trees, what they symbolize and how they came to be.

American Cooperative School of Tunis – November, 2007

Two months later, my husband worked with our gardener to find an olive tree for our backyard and gave it to me as a Christmas gift. It is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. I love that tree and enjoyed watching it flourish.

Pregnant with Lucas – April, 2009

Two years and a baby later, my husband opened his own car dealership and we moved.

Our moving day – December, 2011 (Lucas is 1 1/2)

The tree was one of the things I was most worried about because we weren’t going to take it with us. Until we got settled in a new city, we would be renting. Mercifully, the gentleman that bought our house said the olive tree could stay until we purchased a new home.

This past February, the new owner changed his mind, got a puppy who enjoys digging at the tree and decided he wanted to do something else with the yard space that has become my tree’s home.

My husband reached out to our old gardener and other tree removal companies and a couple of weekends ago with the help of a good friend, relocated my tree to the backyard of our rental home.

Moving day for the tree – February 19, 2012

It looks a lot different; sad, completely traumatized and barren, but we are hopeful that it will hang in there and someday flourish again.

My tree today, one month after being uprooted

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Filed Under: friends, gifts, move, photos, TBW Tagged With: friends, gifts, move, photos, TBW

Connection

Posted on March 15, 2012 Written by Tonya

I left my phone in my friend’s car Monday night. The circumstances are still a bit hazy aren’t important. Upon discovering this Tuesday morning and after the twitching subsided, I actually enjoyed being without my phone for two days.

Honestly.

Because I have a laptop. 🙂

Yes, I was fine until the electricity went out for the better part of the afternoon on Wednesday, which also happened to be a rare day Lucas decided to take a nap.

To make matters worse, I decided if I couldn’t be online or watch TV that I would take a shower; shave my legs, deep condition my hair and put on a face mask, only to find our hot water had been shut off too!

No, we are not delinquent bill payers. It turns out there was some “power line” emergency on our street or rather a termite infested tree that had to be chopped down. I still don’t really know, as my husband and I both got different stories from the men in hard hats directing traffic.

At any rate, everything has been restored now and I learned a valuable lesson: while it might be nice (and necessary) to unplug every now and then, I like being connected.

I like commenting on Facebook status updates and posting photos of my kid and seeing yours on Instagram. I enjoy “checking in” places on Four Square and hearing my husband’s voice midday. I’m lost without my electronic calendar and having iTunes at the ready is comforting, as are the text messages my BFF and I share throughout the day. Pinterest is where I get all my good ideas anymore and I am bound and determined to beat Jessica at Scrabble one of these days!

In short, connection is good.

Just in case you wondering.

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Filed Under: annoyances, facebook, friends, internet, iphone, me time, twitter Tagged With: annoyances, facebook, friends, internet, iphone, me time, twitter

Just One Day

Posted on March 14, 2012 Written by Tonya

I need a day of unwashed hair, unbrushed teeth and no bra.

Just one day.

I need 24 hours in my favorite jammies, hiding out in the comfort of my bed, drifting in and out of sleep while watching bad TV. 

Just one day.

I don’t want to separate darks from whites, build Lego towers, visit the supermarket or wear a brave face.

Just one day.

I want to be snarky and rude and drown my sorrows in a big juicy cheese burger, French fries and chocolate shake, all of which I’ll surely regret.

Just one day.

I want to completely unplug, letting phone calls, e-mails and text messages go unanswered.

Just one day.

I need a day to be still, silent, curse the universe, wonder why me, feel sorry for myself and sob.

Just one day.

I want to regroup, sort through my feelings and find solace knowing that  every cloud has a silver lining and that tomorrow is a brand new day.

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Filed Under: depression, grief, me time, sleep Tagged With: depression, grief, me time, sleep

A Letter To Things I Can’t See

Posted on March 13, 2012 Written by Tonya

Lori of In Pursuit of It all is the beautiful mind behind Project: Purse and Boots, a fundraiser she created to raise money for the American Stroke Association in memory of her grandmother.

Lori also does funny very well, like wine coming out of your nose funny.

But all you really need to know about Lori can be found in the words of the tender tribute she wrote, The Red Underwear, a piece that was selected by BlogHer last year as a Voice of the Year selection. I had the immense honor of waving a pair of red [paper] panties high in the air after listening to her read this moving piece aloud.

To say I’m honored still would be an understatement.

Dear Unexpected, dear Unknown, dear Unanticipated;

Forgive me my intolerance. I’m not so good with you. You make me nervous and you unsettle me.

I do best with a plan and a map. I like knowing the route and I like a path blazoned before me. It doesn’t have to be well worn or lit with a million lamps, but I like the comfort of a track through the grass and knowing there are no monsters around the corner.

You steal that security from me. And where I don’t mind the occasional bill that’s larger than expected or the last minute visit from a relative, there are times when not being able to see past you leaves me shaking and pushing paralysis aside with two ineffective hands.

You bring me terror when I think of my children. I can’t stand not being able to see the things they might trip over or the fears they may face. I don’t feel I can properly arm them when I don’t know what’s in front of them. Do I need to give them powerful words? More vitamins? A snarl to keep in their back pocket? A savings account? I wring my hands in anxiety, so worried that the one weapon they need will be the one I didn’t think of. Did I raise them to be too polite for ambition? Too sarcastic for affection? Or too determined to take help when they need it?

The way you cloud my vision of my beloved husband makes my throat tighten. I waited so long for him, for love so deep that carries me so steadily. I watch the turning pages of the calendar, feeling for the first time the simultaneous elation and dread that accompanies a plan to grow old with another. Will he be here through my latest days? Will I be here for his? Which one of us will let go of the earth first? The questions ricochet against the walls of my mind with sharp corners.

But maybe I’m being ungrateful. Why can’t I accept the temporal blindness you impose with the same equanimity that I wait to see what’s in the prettily wrapped birthday package? I don’t want to know what’s in the box until the time is right, for only then is the gift truly mine. So conceivably I could wrestle you into that framework – where unanticipated becomes surprise, unknown becomes mystery, and unexpected becomes wonder.

So maybe the fault is mine – I did not appreciate how you are dressed. I am too judgmental, perhaps, obsessing over the mud tracked on the floor and overlooking the flowers in your hands. It’s my way, you see – to watch where I walk and notice later what’s further on the horizon.

Because I like a path, remember?

Hesitantly yours,

Lori

 

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Filed Under: guest post, Letters For You, worry Tagged With: guest post, Letters For You, worry

Motherhood

Posted on March 9, 2012 Written by Tonya

Motherhood can be a roller coaster ride. Each day is different from the last. It is not for the faint of heart or weak stomached.

Motherhood is calculating the number of diapers and extra clothes you think you might need knowing no matter how many extras you pack, you will not have enough.

Motherhood is reluctantly allowing one (or two) special treats because of the adorable way they were asked for.

Motherhood is beaming with delight when three complete strangers compliment you on your two year old’s inflight behavior.

Motherhood is begging your child not to open the door of the public bathroom stall while you’re half naked. Repeatedly.

Motherhood is sweating through your pantyhose as you struggle to get a car seat installed correctly in a rental car.

Arriving at Tucson International Airport.

Motherhood is rising blood pressure and thinning patience when your son will not sit still, stop whining, or accept any of the activities you’ve brought for him to do while at a very adult function.

Motherhood is quickly scrubbing crayon out of a pew cushion before anyone notices.

The scene of the crime!

Motherhood is coaxing a child to eat and worrying about his nutrition intake, but still offer ice cream in exchange for ten more bites.

Motherhood is pretending to call the ice cream store only to find out they are closed.

Motherhood is capturing small moments that will forever be etched in your memory.

No trip to Tucson would be complete without a visit to Bookman's, our favorite used bookstore.

Motherhood is doing three loads of laundry in the middle of the night, wiping sweating brows, singing lullabies and willing whatever nasty bug has attacked your child to leave him in peace.

Motherhood is searching the Internet at 2 in the morning and again at 3:15 for tips on how to treat a dehydrated child.

Motherhood is heart swelling tenderness as he reaches for you and only you.

Motherhood is heavy sighs and silent gratitude as your poor sick child finally drifts off to sleep and do does your leg because he’s in your lap.

Motherhood for me was all of the above over the last 24 hours. All of the above and an indescribable willingness to do it all over again. That’s motherhood.

 

A HUGE big thank you to Lucas’ aunt Leah for all her help on our quick and very eventful trip to Tucson.

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Filed Under: aunt leah, love, lovey, motherhood, photos, travel Tagged With: aunt leah, love, lovey, motherhood, photos, travel

Especially For Lucas

Posted on March 7, 2012 Written by Tonya

My heart is full and I am so grateful for my life and count my lucky stars that I have Lucas.

But, there are times I want another baby so much it hurts.

I’ve written about this once before.

Reluctantly.

But there is no denying my feelings.

I am trying to stay positive and hopeful throughout our journey, through every heartbreaking and disappointing twist and turn and I have learned that some days positivity is not quite enough.

I do, however, remain hopeful.

Hope has to be enough.

I want another child for me, for our family and especially for Lucas.

He would be so good with a little baby brother or sister. I think having another member of our family would teach him more about family, love and patience than his father or I ever could.

Having a sibling would provide him not only a playmate, but someone to share his memories with and someone to grow up along side.

I waited almost 12 years for my sister and it was nine years too long, in my opinion. I can’t imagine having any other sister, but I wish that we had shared more time at home together under the same roof. I wish that we had grown up together. I want that for Lucas.

I keep thinking about all the babies we’ve lost, the disappointments we’ve had over the last two years and how when it is my time to bring another life into this world, it will be the one that was meant for us, the family member we were meant to have and the sibling that was made especially for Lucas.

And I think how fortunate that baby will be; already have three people waiting with open arms and so much love to shower them with.


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Filed Under: confession, control, infertility, miscarriage, siblings Tagged With: confession, control, infertility, miscarriage, siblings

Deep As The Ocean…

Posted on March 6, 2012 Written by Tonya

One of the main reasons my series, Letters For You exists is because of the gentle encouragement from my dear friend and fellow writer, Nichole.

I first fell in love with Nichole through her words at In These Small Moments and then had the incredible fortunate to meet her last August at BlogHer. Since then, our children have met and she and I have shared many heartfelt phone calls, tweets and text messages.

In many ways, Nichole and I are kindred spirits. We have suffered great loss and extreme joy and write about both.

I am so very proud to have Nichole here today and even more grateful for her friendship.

Dear Mom,

There are some nights when Craig and I come downstairs after putting the kids to bed and we’re so exhausted we just fall in a heap on the couch.

Parenting is difficult enough even when you have another person to lean on.

But, when I was a little girl, you didn’t have that support system.

You did it alone and you did an amazing job.

There are so many things for which I am grateful to you, but there never seems to be the right time to tell you.

So, I’ll share just a small handful of them with you now.

Thank you for always being honest with me…for telling me the truth about my dad’s death and trusting that with your help, I could work through it.

I am the woman I am today because of your encouragement to think through what I was feeling and to speak my mind with conviction. Thank you for never asking me to stop talking.

Thank you for sometimes splurging on toys. I now realize that you probably used your last dollars so that I could experience the joy of an occasional new toy. My Holly Hobbie, Colorforms, and Baby Alive are etched into my memory forever.

Thank you for never making a promise to me that you couldn’t keep and for always keeping the ones you did. You taught me that your word was gold.

Thank you for always being there to tuck me in at night….for scratching my back and talking to me at the end of the day. Those moments reminded me that you would always be there.

Some of the little things that you probably don’t think I even remember influence me as a mother. Thank you for always making cakes for school parties, playing Scrabble with me, and having slumber parties with me on the pull out sofa.

I always knew that as long as we had each other, we would be just fine. Through simple gestures like reaching for my hand to cross the street until I was a teenager, to comforting me when I had my heart broken for the first time, you taught me that together we could get through anything.

Thank you for showing me what it meant to be a mother. For teaching me through your own example what sacrifice, commitment, and determination look like.

Thank you for letting me spread my wings and leave when it was time. I hope to have that same courage when my own children grow up and move away. I hope that I can draw from the strength that you showed me then.

The childhood that you gave me was also a gift to Katie and Matthew. The lessons that I learned from you permeate their lives and I could never thank you enough for that.

I love you big as the world,
High as the sky,
Deep as the ocean,
Forever and ever,

Chole

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Filed Under: friends, gratitude, guest post, Letters For You Tagged With: friends, gratitude, In These Small Moments, Letters For You

3 In 1

Posted on March 5, 2012 Written by Tonya

Vlog Talk
This post is for Vlog Talk. This week I tackled all three prompts: 1) If you could go on a date with a celebrity who would it be and why?, 2) Which children’s character would you like to banish? Why? and 3) Tell us about a song that always gets stuck in your head.

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