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The Hole In My Heart

Posted on October 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

October used to mean feeling Fall in the air and spying Halloween merchandise on every aisle at the supermarket and being greeted by big shinny round pumpkins with glowing smiles on my neighbors front porches.

October meant the nights were getting longer and the air a little cooler. Not quite flannel jammies time, but close.

Conversations about how to spend Thanksgiving begin and Christmas shopping lists are started in October.

Now October has a new meaning.

In particular October 15, but the days leading up to it and the days preceding are tough too.

October 15 used to have no significance to me at all, just another day on the calendar.

Now it marks the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Today they have been gone for four years. 1460 days. It’s hard to believe it has been that long.

I dread the anniversary the most; more than their birthdays, more than Christmas, more than Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or their anniversary. The day I was notified my parents had died was the worst day and every October 15, I relive it. And every year I think it’s going to be a little easier, and it’s not.

I’ll never forgot sitting in my friend Suzy’s kitchen two weeks after the memorial service and watching her eyes fill with tears as she talked about her own father’s passing as if it happened the day before. He had died 30 years earlier.

In some ways this was strangely comforting to me; knowing I wasn’t alone in my grieve for a lost loved one and in other ways it made me even sadder than I already was. I realized this wasn’t something I was going to “get over”, I realized that death is as permanent as grieve and I would have to learn to live with this emptiness, the loss and the hole that was now forever in my heart.

I would have to live with the sadness each and every October and all the days in between.

Catalina Island, July 2005

One good thing occurred on October 15, 2008 on the one year anniversary, I told my sister I was six weeks pregnant with Lucas.

She’s Crafty

Posted on October 11, 2011 Written by Tonya

What does the writer do when she can’t write? She gets crafty!

Expect that I am not crafty in the least bit, which is rather embarrassing to admit as the daughter of an elementary school teacher. Growing up our living room was always riddled with colored construction paper clippings, we saved toilet paper rolls for God’s knows what and I got roped into tracing letters for bulletin board displays all the time.

And yet, for no apparent reason, I found myself in Michael’s arts and crafts store today, where I spent the better part of an hour walking up and down the aisles filling an entire shopping cart. I bought all kinds of stuff I never thought would enter my home…. pipe cleaners, glitter glue and googly eyes.

I have been feeling like I should be doing more arts and crafts projects with Lucas at home and with the holidays approaching and my severe addiction to Pinterest, I have been running across so many cute ideas.

There are literally hundreds of things I’d like to try, but today we stuck with this simple little gem:

Okay, to be fair, I made it and Lucas made this (he’s only two, people), but he thoroughly enjoyed sampling the candy corn!

To make candy corn collage, you will need:

Card stock paper
Glue
White, orange and yellow tissue paper

Instructions:

Draw a large triangle on card stock and divide into three parts (use an actual piece of candy corn for inspiration).
Rip tissue paper into 1/2″ x 1/2″ square pieces and use eraser side of pencil to glue to triangle making the stripes of the candy corn.

We are turning our candy corn collages into greeting cards. Fun and easy, just not quite easy enough for two year olds.

For more candy corn craft ideas, visit Pinterest.

Adding To Our Family

Posted on October 5, 2011 Written by Tonya

The last time I owned a pet (other than a fish), I was 13. 32 years ago today (!) my family got a puppy.

The day we brought Licorice home, October 5, 1979.

Part Labrador, part Poodle and way before they were called Labradoodles, Licorice was black with a little patch of white fur on her chest. She was sweetest and smartest dog I’ve ever been around.

Running along the ocean was one of Licorice’s favorite activities and we had to spell the word beach or she would go bonkers.

Despite sleeping at the foot of my bed, to be fair Licorice was my mother’s dog. We had her for six years and when we moved, we gave her to some friends that lived down the street.

My mother and Licorice, circa 1982

It’s time for another dog.

My husband STRONGLY disagrees.

ARGUMENTS FOR GETTING A DOG:

We’ve been wanting to add to our family. A pet would be a perfect addition teaching Lucas responsibility and giving him a wonderful life long playmate.
We have a large backyard with plenty of room for a pooch to roam.
I don’t think a more unconditional love exists than the one between a dog and it’s owner. Even when you’re feeling (and acting) miserable, they still love you.
Lucas really like dogs, although to be honest (much to my chagrin), he seems like more of a cat person. WE WILL NOT BE OWNING A CAT!! EVER.
I love to walk and vow to be in charge of this daily (and nightly) activity.
Extra security… for when my husband travels.
Opportunity to give a dog a second chance by adopting or saving a pound puppy.
Who could resist these precious faces?

Image courtesy of Pinterest. Click image for source.

Image courtesy of Snowesti. Click image for source.

ARGUMENTS AGAINST GETTING A DOG:

Discovering my favorite shoes chewed to smithereens.
We can’t even potty train our son, how would we ever potty train an animal?
No more spontaneous (or the other variety) trips – kenneling is expensive.
Vet care, food, toys, bedding, treats, etc. are also expensive.
Training. Ugh!
Shedding. Sigh.
Poop.
Saying good-bye is inevitable.

Okay, he may have won this argument… for now.

What do you think? Do you own a dog? What love and hate about pet ownership?

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, 1.) Share a disagreement you’re having with someone and let your readers be the judge!

The Summer Of ’69

Posted on September 26, 2011 Written by Tonya

Every now and then I have an undeniable and almost desperate need to be with family, members of my parents family that is.

Specifically my father’s family.

I want to talk about my father, ask questions and hear anecdotes about when he was a boy, a young man, how he was as a brother, an uncle and a friend.

I want to remember and hear about him being alive.

Last weekend, my sister and I took Lucas to visit our aunt and uncle (my father’s middle brother). We haven’t seen one another since Lucas was four months old.

Since my father died, seeing my uncle David will always be bittersweet. The resemblance to my father is uncanny and their mannerisms are so similar. I loved witnessing my uncle interact with Lucas. His tone and actions are so much like I imagine my father’s would be had he lived to be a grandparent.

One of the highlights of this trip, aside from being with family, was seeing the church my parents were married in 42 years ago on August 23, 1969.

Luckily, my sister carries this photo with her in her wallet. This awful reproduction was taken with my phone and the photo was just what we needed to confirm the exact side of the church my newlywed parents must have exited through, as there are many!

What dreams did they have have for themselves and their future together at the moment this photo was taken. Were they scared? Confident in their choice of life partners? Nervous about the journey that lie ahead, or simply deliriously happy and in love? I hope it was a combination of all four.

Family history is so important. It not only tells us who we are and where we come from, but it helps us remember when we are sad and it is one of the main reasons that I write, so that Lucas may know his (and me) better.

Family history is preserved through our children.

Riding In Cars With Boys

Posted on September 26, 2011 Written by Tonya

My sister, Lucas and I just returned from Dallas, where we had a wonderful visit with our aunt and uncle. Traveling with a tot is always an adventure and I have written about it before here and here. As usual, Lucas was great on the plane and owned his “star of the weekend” status like a trouper.

Dear Baby Girl

Posted on September 20, 2011 Written by Tonya

Robin is one of my favorite writers and her blog, Farewell, Stranger is one I never miss. Robin’s writing is raw and thoughtful and eloquent. I have devoured every word of her brave journey through postpartum depression and especially love her posts about her three-year-old son, Connor, who could be the Canadian version of Lucas.

I had the pleasure of rooming with Robin the first night of BlogHer ’11 and we stayed up until after 2:00 AM talking. To say that I hope we get another opportunity to do that again someday would be an understatement.

I am so pleased to have Robin here today with a letter to her baby girl. Confused? Keep reading….

Dear Baby Girl,

For a few months now Connor has been talking about his baby sister.

“I’m going to have a baby sister,” he said one day.

“When my baby sister comes, I’m going to teach her how to paint,” he informed me a couple of weeks ago. He was wrist deep in watercolor paint at the time, and the image of the two of you creating art together nearly made me cry (which surely would have smeared my own amateur work of art).

One day I asked him when his baby sister was coming.

“On Friday,” he said, his voice confident and sure.

I laughed of course, because he seems to be under the impression we merely have to order a baby and go to the hospital to pick it up. (It’s Grandma’s fault, because when he asked her recently where babies come from she took the admittedly smart approach and told him they grow in the mommy’s tummy and then you go to the hospital to get them.)

I wish it were that easy. If we could have you with us on Friday, I’d leave for the hospital right now and wait in happy anticipation.

That’s not how it works, sadly, but I’m intrigued that your three-year-old brother is so sure you’re coming to live with us.

Nine years ago, when we bought our first house and it was being built, your dad and I stood on the ground outside with nothing but the skeleton of a house surrounding us and thought about what it would be like to live there. It was getting dark – the sun was going down in the hills to the east, and I could see footprints in the dirt beneath us from the workers who had been there that day.

Suddenly I had an image in my mind, clear as a photograph, of our family. Four of us – your dad and I, a boy and a girl. I dismissed it as a silly dream or wishful thinking and didn’t even mention it to your dad at the time. It was too much like picturing the “perfect” family.

I actually always imagined I’d have a girl first, so when your brother came along I was surprised. And that led me to wonder whether maybe my quickly-dismissed vision from that long ago day wasn’t in fact worth paying attention to.

Your dad and I had never really talked to Connor about having another baby. He just started talking about it on his own, and has mentioned his “little sister” to Grandma as well. None of his good friends have little sisters – they’re all little brothers – so I really don’t know where he got the idea.

Maybe he knows something we don’t. I sure hope so, because our family isn’t complete yet and I’d be very happy if you’d come and join us.

Love,

Mama

P.S. If you turn out to be a boy, that’s okay too.

Magic

Posted on September 15, 2011 Written by Tonya

Once upon a time, there was a little girl,

who fell in love with a boy.

They got married

and they made a family

filled with love and magic.

Linking up with Shell’s Things I Can’t Say Capturing Those Magic Moments.

Juxtaposition

Posted on September 7, 2011 Written by Tonya

I was tweeting with @mommyofamonster and @projectalicia today about our young children starting preschool and older children going back to school and mommy time and our kids in general and how fast they grow up and then I read Four Plus An Angel’s beautiful post, As You Begin School and as the day wore on I started to feel melancholy and uncertain and really missing my son.

Melancholy because noon could not come soon enough. Three hours a part was three hours too many today. I relished my “me time” and although I was able to get a lot accomplished without Lucas in tow, my thoughts and heart were with him.

Uncertain because Lucas is only two years old and on Day 14 of preschool and I feel as though his father and I keep reminding ourselves why he is there; it’s good for him socially and his vocabulary and retention are vast.

So far, he’s doing great! Drop offs and goodbyes are getting easier (on both of us) and the art projects he proudly hands me at the end of his school day adorn our refrigerator with love.

Part of me is over the moon excited for him to expand his horizons and grow and learn, while the other part is completely torn up inside and worried that I’m losing my baby too soon.

It’s bittersweet, but I know the latter is inevitable.