Letters For Lucas

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

Music & Lyrics

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I love music and poetic lyrics that really make you think, remember and smile.

Some words are so powerful that I wait for my favorite lines every time I hear certain songs. Sometimes, they’re in the chorus and other times, I have to listen a little harder because they’re like buried gems.

I’ve had some time in the car recently driving to and from Orange County and actually listened to my iPod, something I don’t normally do anywhere but at the gym, and had the chance to revisit some of my favorite lyrics:

And every time she sneezes I believe it’s love
Anna Begins – Counting Crows

You can wish on four leaf clovers, but all the fields have been plowed over
And there’s nothin left to do but fly away
California – Kenny Chesney

It’s only an inch from me to you
Depending on what map you use
Cleveland – Jewel

I wanna be the only one, for miles and miles
Except for maybe you, and your simple smile
Cowboy Take Me Away – The Dixie Chicks

Things ain’t good but things ain’t boring
Falling or Flying – Grace Potter & the Nocturnals

Late at night, I write my own movie
And I am the star when I close my eyes
Except I look like Julia Roberts
And you’re just the poor jerk that I walk on by
For A While – Trisha Yearwood

A good day is any day that you’re alive
Good Day – Paul Westerberg

We skirt around the danger zone and don’t talk about it later
Marlene On The Wall – Suzanne Vega

There’s no more heart to bruise
The Power of Goodbye – Madonna

You got a face with a view
This Must be the Place – Talking Heads

You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
Separate Lives – Phil Collins and Marilyn Martin

What are some of your favorite lyrics?

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A New Zip Code

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It’s official, we’re moving back to the OC!

For those of you that don’t know, Orange County is one hour north (give or take) of where we live now. When Todd and I met, I had been living in the OC for eight years. It’ll be good to be back.

Our San Diego home has been for sale for two weeks and we’ve had almost two dozen showings. We spent the weekend looking at neighborhoods and new houses and hoping, if all goes well, that we will be in a new zip code (Lord, help me!) before the first of the year.

On top of everything else I’m dealing with, a move could not be more ill-timed, but with Todd’s recent endeavor being based in Newport Beach and his need to put in more hours and the fact that all of my close friends live in Orange County, it just makes more sense for us to be there instead of here. I love our current home, our neighborhood, and the friends we’ve made in the six years we’ve lived here, but change is good and I am very excited about this one.

As much as I am dreading it; purging, organizing and packing will be cleansing. It’s amazing how much stuff one household can accumulate.

Bring on the packing tape, boxes, broken nails and late nights!!

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In Memoriam

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Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.
– Eskimo Proverb

Kathryn Ruppert Adams
November 10, 1948 – October 15, 2007

Michael Stephen Adams
January 28, 1947 – October 15, 2007

Rest In Peace.

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I Take It All Back

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It’s humbling to recall all the things you said you’d never do when you became a mom back before you became a mom and had responsibilities or an SUV or your house looked like Babies R Us threw up all over it.

Here are just a few of mine:

  • I swore I’d wait until Lucas was two (just like the American Academy of Pediatrics says you are suppose to) until he was allowed to watch TV. Yeah, right! Some days, I don’t know how we survive without Elmo.
  • I always said I’d never feed Lucas French fries, but today it’s all he’s had because it’s all he’ll eat.
  • I never thought I’d ever take my child out in public wearing only his pyjamas, but it’s happened. More than once.
  • I didn’t want to be the parent that let their child run ammuck in a restaurant. Done that too. It was only once and it was on the patio and there was only four other diners.
  • I promised myself I wouldn’t use bribery to get my child to do what I wanted him to do, but you know what? It works! Even on a 16 month old.
  • I said I’d never let my child’s bottle/fork/spoon/sippy cup/food hit the floor without thoroughly washing it off before giving it back to him. Ever heard of the 10 second rule? I’m building his immunities.
  • I never wanted that lovey to leave his crib, but now that god damn thing goes everywhere with us and we have two back ups!
  • I always thought I could get Lucas on some sort of regimented schedule of feedings and naps. Whatever… I have given up on that!

Ah, yes, the great pronouncements we make when we think we know it all, the things that we end up having to take back. Turns out you only know it all until you actually become a parent.

One of the things I said I’d never do actually backfired on me and I’m grateful. I vowed to never give my baby a pacifier and even though we tried to force one on him, Lucas wasn’t having any part of it. Thank you, God for small favors!

What are some things you said you’d never do?

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In Treatment

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I have been dreading writing about this because I haven’t got my head fully wrapped around it yet, so please bear with me and as always, any words of advice and/or comfort that you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

Shortly after my parents died, I was somewhat desperate to help my sister find a psychologist to help her with her grief and in the process contacted a doctor that I saw for a while leading up to and after my divorce from my first husband.

I still feel bamboozled by her receptionist when she asked me “what about you?”. To which, I of course replied, “what do you mean, ‘what about me’?”.

Before I knew it I was seeing the good doctor again once a week for almost a year, half a dozen times leading up to Lucas’ arrival and it’s now been eight months since my last appointment.

I need her again.

I am a big proponent of therapy. I believe working with a professional can help provide insight, support and new strategies for all types of life challenges. In the past it has helped me immensely and I am lucky to have a doctor that I trust and respect. Dr. K. is a family therapist and specializes in family and marital counseling, stress management and grief.

Since spring, I haven’t been myself and it’s time to do something about it.

I’m moodier than usual, short tempered, forgetful, disheveled, anxious and confused. I sound like a toddler, huh?

Depression is a real illness and while I have never been clinically diagnosed as “depressed”, I have a laundry list of reasons for why I might be. It could be because it’s October now, which is a hard month for being the anniversary of my parents deaths, if I’m, as I’ve shared before, still getting used to my (not so) new role of mother, if I’m struggling with my summer miscarriage, or more than likely a combination of all three and a bunch of other junk too. Whatever IT is, I don’t like feeling this way and I am anxious to get back in treatment.

I’m no good at “faking it” or keeping my feelings at bay. They come out in the strangest ways and don’t want my negativity to ever affect Lucas. Not to mention, I have too much goodness in my life to feel this way.

My first appointment is next week and I have two additional appointments after that. From time to time, when appropriate I’ll update you. In the meantime, your good thoughts are welcome. Let the self discovery and growth begin.

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This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by the self proclaimed Nerd Mafia: Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).


If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is bamboozled.

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Father & Son

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On the way to dinner the other night, I captured one of my favorite photos to date of Lucas and his dad.

I mean, are you kidding me?

This is a pure vanilla ice cream with melted ooey gooey chocolate and rainbow sprinkles on top kind of love!

This post is for Wordless Wednesdays and if you want to link up or see some really beautiful photographs, visit Alicia at A Beautiful Mess.

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Family

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They lift you up.
They let you down.
They make your head spin and eyes roll.
They borrow money you know you’ll never see again.
They lend a hand when you need it most.
They are heirlooms and hand-me-downs.
They know you better than anyone else and can hurt you like no one else.
They make you laugh and not just chuckle, but full on tummy holding, side aching, tears running down your face laugh.
They make you cry by opening old wounds or creating new ones.
They are birthday parties, summer BBQs, college graduations, weddings and anniversaries.
They are home runs, three-pointers and touch downs.
They are teachers and confidants, cooks and built-in babysitters.
They manipulate, calculate and complicate.
They share your secrets, your history and your eye color.
They are your past, your present and your future.
They support, frustrate and hog the bathroom.
They become estranged and then they reunite.
They are game nights and pancakes and holiday traditions.
They are baby bottles, pizza deliveries and mom’s famous casserole.
They talk, listen, yell and argue.
They celebrate.
They grieve.
They remember.
They hurt.
They hug.
They are a force to be reckoned with.
They are aunts, brothers, nephews, sisters, fathers, cousins, uncles, brothers, in-laws, grandparents, nieces, and mothers.
They are home.
They are family.
They are love.

Family is everything.

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Spinach & Feta Turkey Burgers – Tasty Tuesdays 3

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I don’t cook, but when I do, I am very proud of myself and like to share my recipes. But only the ones that turn out well and the ones my son enjoys.

This was another successful dinner and so, so easy, even I could pull it off!

Spinach and Feta Turkey Burgers
From allrecipes.com

Ingredients – for 8 patties
2 eggs, beaten
4 ounces feta cheese
1 (10 ounce) box frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
2 pounds ground turkey
I also added a dash of paprika and salt and pepper to taste
Directions
Preheat an outdoor grill for medium-high heat and lightly oil grate.
While the grill is preheating, mix together eggs, garlic, feta cheese, spinach, and turkey in a large bowl until well combined; form into 8 patties.
Cook on preheated grill until no longer pink in the center, 15 to 20 minutes.By the time I remembered I needed an *after* photo of my final product, the condiments had all been put away, including the buns and the kitchen was nearly spotless, except for the salad I was finishing, so I haphazardly stuck one of the left over patties on the bed of lettuce and shot this: It’s probably not bad this way, if you are going for the no/low carb route…. try it and let me know! Lucas gobbled these up by the way.

This post is for Alicia’s (A Beautiful Mess) Tasty Tuesdays. Be sure to go check out what some real cooks are up to.

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All Aboard

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Yesterday, I took Lucas to LA to spend the day with his aunt Leah and her friend Tracy, who was visiting from New York.

The four of us went to the famed Griffith Park and enjoyed Travel Town, an outdoor train museum.

Lucas is obsessed with trains right now and loved playing conductor, riding on the miniature railroad and seeing all the old retired locomotives, passenger cars and street cars on display.

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The Briefcase

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Always when I least expect it, something will stop me right in my tracks and make me yearn to see my father again or just hear his voice one more time.

I think they’re called grief attacks and they come out of nowhere; it might be a song on the radio, an expression on Lucas’ face, or a memory that flashes through my mind in the middle of doing something totally unrelated.

Luckily, these “attacks” usually only lasts a few minutes but they take my breath my breath away and I don’t see them ending any time soon.

Recently I was waiting for my suitcase in the baggage claim area at the airport and I saw a man with a beat up old briefcase between his legs that looked just like my dad’s. I couldn’t stop staring at it.

A briefcase that I keep in my closet because I don’t know what else to do with it.

A briefcase that I have only been able to open a handful of times because it physically hurts too much.

A briefcase that is filled with my dad’s scent, his check books, keys, business cards notes to himself and wallet.

I hate that god damned briefcase and I miss the man that carried it.

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