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Happily Ever After

Posted on July 27, 2016 Written by Tonya

This is a very exciting time in our family and most definitely in my sister’s life.

It has been months of preparation, list creating and guest building, taste testing and over analyzing, decision making and expenses and much celebration.

One month from today my little sister is getting married!

Because our parents are both deceased, I have been given the distinct honor of walking Leah down the aisle.

She chose me to give her away.

I don’t know if I can do it.

I’m honored. And there is no one else. Really.

It should be my job, but this is a position I never dreamed I’d have and one I know she never thought she have to ask me to take.

Just as most little girls daydream, it should be our father by her side. Not her older sister.

The Father of the Bride is an iconic role and such a huge part of a wedding.

How can I measure up? How can I channel my father and bestow his wisdom on life and love onto my sister and her new husband? How can I be a substitute for the greatest man either of us have ever known? How can I be equal parts serious and witty like he so effortlessly could? How do I keep from crumbling in what is sure to be a pivotal moment in my life?

I am already starting to use visualization techniques to make through what is going to be an incredibly emotional day.

This will mark yet another milestone event that my parents will miss.

One month from today Leah will say “I do” in front of all of the most important people in her and her finance’s life and the two people that are meant to be there the most, won’t be.

And yet, like we have for the past almost nine years, we will endure.

We will muddle through. We will cry and muster our bravest faces. We will get through the days leading up to this monumental day, my sister’s wedding day, and all the days after.

Happily ever after.

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67 – NaBloPoMo

Posted on November 10, 2015 Written by Tonya

The photographer at my wedding was awful.

I take that back, his photographs were fine, but he ran around like a nut and was completely drenched in sweat while wearing a black shirt. Ew.

Every time I turned around there was the photographer snapping away.

Every time anyone turned around there was the photographer.

To be fair there wasn’t a lot of subject matter or space because my husband and I had a very small wedding, at our home, in the backyard with just 26 guests.

At one point and long before his three hour commitment had expired, we asked him to leave.

And yet he still managed to send two discs with nearly 1000 pictures. At the time I only loved a handful or deemed “frame quality”. And the rest? The rest turned out to be lovely candid shots that I treasure. Especially the ones of my parents. Somehow our photographer was able to capture many of my parents expressions and I am so grateful to have these photos now.

My mother would have been 67 today and this is one of my favorite photos of her from my wedding. That’s my father in the background. Both of them holding cameras. And champagne.

This is how I choose to remember them.

Unposed.

Beautiful.

Happy.

Photo by Rob Fadtke – August 4, 2007

Baby Tenderlove

Posted on June 2, 2015 Written by Tonya

I wish I remember the story of how I got my Mattel Newborn Baby Tenderlove dolls.

I must have been two or three and I think my parents bought me one and my grandparents sent me the other, probably for a birthday, but it might’ve been Christmas.

My mother announced that I had twins! What fun, two of the exact same dolls.

I named them Susie & Sally.

They have been given horrific haircuts, chewed and written on. All signs of true love.

When I pulled them out of a box buried deep in our garage, I cleaned them up with a Clorox wipe, washed their hair and clothes. My mother made the dresses they are wearing. One of them was still in a diaper made out of Kleenex and when I removed it, it practically disintegrated.

These dolls are over 40 years old.

I don’t know what ever possessed me to save them, but I’m glad I did because Lola is now their loving caretaker.

She won’t get in her crib without them.

My little Muffet sleeping off an awful cold with Susie and Sally at her side.

The Woman In The Photo

Posted on May 9, 2015 Written by Tonya

She was a first time mother at the age of 23.

The year was 1972.

I can’t even imagine.

I became a mother at 36.

Not that I knew any more than she did. But the 13 years I waited to start a family I believe gave me a greater sense of self, not to mention over a decade more life experience.

Having a child changes everything, no mater what age you are.

I love this photo.

There’s so much I wish I could ask this young woman. Deep mysteries and trivial information I would have loved for her to reveal to me.

Was she happy? Was she worried about being a good mother? Did she have close girlfriends to confide in? Was her mother helpful after I was born? How did she feel when her father held me for the first time? What made her feel special? What book was she reading? Where did she like to shop for clothes? What did she have breakfast? What was her favorite flower?

The questions are endless.

The look on her face in this photograph has always intrigued me. It’s equal parts exhaustion, bewilderment, adoration and indifference. Sums up motherhood pretty well, especially in those early newborn days. There is a lot going on behind those Mona Lisa eyes.

I’ve stared at this photograph for hours over the years and the longer I look at it, the more I see myself. Not 23 or 36 year old me, but me today.

I want to be a different mother to my children than my mother was to me, more open, more involved, a reflection of her best characteristics. Like she, I’m flawed in my own ways.

I learned many valuable lessons from my mother; the importance of sending thank you cards, how to celebrate holidays, the pure joy that can be found in a chocolate chip cookie and how to relax.

There are still so many questions for the women in the photo.

I miss her.

I miss a relationship I never had with her. I miss a relationship I could have had with her.

I think our relationship would have bloomed once I became a mother. I would have turned to her like I never was able to as a child.

Luckily, we all have two opportunities to have that mother/daughter bond. Once as a child when we have absolutely no control and again as mothers ourselves. If Mother’s Day is difficult for you too, please remember that.

If you have a difficult relationship with your mother, if your mother is gone, or you are struggling to became a mother, you are not alone.

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10 Things My Parents Did Right

Posted on March 23, 2015 Written by Tonya

It’s easy to hold my parents up on a very high pedestal since they are no longer living, but they really were good people. Warm and funny and able to talk to anyone. They dedicated their lives to educating children all over the world and always made me feel special. They did a lot of things wrong but they also did a lot of things right.

10 Things My Parents Taught Me:

1. How to be a good friend.
My parents taught me how to be a good friend, trustworthy and honest and always have a strong moral compass. They showed me the importance of sticking up for the underdog while treating everyone with kindness and respect. They also taught me to practice hospitality. The door to our house was always open and my family loved to entertain guests and made anyone who entered our home feel comfortable.

2. A love of reading.
My parents instilled a love of reading in me early in life. The walls of our home were lined with books, my first word was “book” and I remember getting my first library card at the age of five.

3. Respect for myself.
A small example of this would be that a boy should never honk the horn and expect me to come running out to his car, he should get out, walk up to the door and greet my parents. This only happened to me once.

4. How to have fun.
I was taught that there is a time for work, a time for play, and maybe even a time for both.

5. Compassion for my fellowman.
My parents gave when they were able and taught me that I should always show mercy and kindness towards other people and treat them in a way that I want to be treated.

6. A love of school and learning.
My parents taught me to value education and to excel in school. Maybe because they were educators themselves, but I have always loved school and hold a very special place in my heart for teachers.

7. A love of travel.
My parents decided to work and live overseas when I was seven-years-old and we never looked back. Their career spanned almost 30 years in seven different countries, many of them third world. My childhood was spent in four different countries and seeing so many different cultures was an amazing way to grow up. I have had the “travel bug” forever and continue to enjoy long journeys to far away places in large part due to my mom and dad’s adventurous spirit.

8. Argue in private.
I can’t even count on one hand the number of arguments I witnessed my parents having, although I’m sure they did. They weren’t perfect but to my knowledge they kept that side of their marriage separate from me.

9. The art of conversation.
I swear my mom and dad could talk to anyone! They always expressed an interest in my friends and it was important to them to get to know them, even some of the unfavorable boys I dated. My father was particularly comfortable with strangers and curious about where the people he met came from and what made them tick.

10. They let me go when I was ready to leave.
As a mother myself, this must be the hardest parenting task there is. And also the most critical. My mom and dad did it beautifully and continued to love me unconditionally and support the decisions I made as an adult.

I miss my parents everyday and wish so much that they could see me as a mother. I wish I could turn to them for parenting advice. I draw on how I was raised to raise my children and I can only hope that I am doing it right.

What did your parents do right?

Small Treasures

Posted on March 11, 2015 Written by Tonya

Lucas asked quietly and consciously to look through my jewelry box. I’ll never forget how surprised he was when I said yes.

We sat on the floor of my closet and carefully went through each drawer and compartment. I let him handle items as I explained where I got them or who gave them to me. He listened intently.

The sapphire and diamond earrings and necklace set my parents gave me were my something blue in my [first] wedding.

A Claddagh ring from an old boyfriend.

The white tassel from my cap bearing a 96 for the year I graduated from college.

The first birthday present his father gave me after we started dating; a necklace with an engraved pendant that reads: I call for your abundance like an armor of ships.

A cameo brooch pin that belonged to my grandmother.

A metal bracelet I bought from a street vendor on the beach in Cabo.

Various bangles and baubles, odd rings I never wear, tarnished earrings, a strand of pearls, turquoise, coral, shell and gunmetal necklaces, a pair of delicate silver hoops that were my mother’s, several items from Stella and Dot (my latest jewelry obsession), the tiny silver spoon, which was a gift from our beloved fertility doctor when I graduated from her office to my regular OB, monogrammed charms, stray fortunes from fortune cookies and other gifts from family and friends.

Lucas was focused as he tried on bracelets and slipped necklaces around his neck.

You never wear this.
Oh, I like this one, it sparkles!
Doesn’t Aunt Leah have this too?
This is so pretty.

It wasn’t until we got to the satin navy blue jewelry travel bag in the bottom drawer that I realized this may have been a mistake.

Inside the bag is a smaller red pouch that I keep the jewelry my parents were wearing when they died; their wedding bands, my mother’s engagement ring, my father’s college class ring, my mother’s gold necklace, bracelet and two other rings and my father’s Mickey Mouse watch, whose long white-gloved hands are frozen at 10:03. The band still very faintly smells of him.

I remained composed as I showed Lucas each piece and answered his questions.

Why do have these, Mommy?
How did you get them?
Will you ever wear these?
Will Daddy?
Your dad had big fingers.

I thought there was nothing of real value in my jewelry box, just a bunch of costume jewelry and certainly nothing that a five-year-old boy would find interesting. I was wrong and now to both of us, it is full of memories, stories and small treasures.

Why You Should Volunteer In Your Child’s Classroom

Posted on March 6, 2015 Written by Tonya

The smell of construction paper, crayons and glue evoke so many memories for me.

They smell like childhood.

But for me they also smell like the many hours I worked in my mother’s elementary classroom after school on weekends. She’d have me trace letters and cut them out, put together reading packets, correct homework, organize her in-class library and anything else that she needed. We’d listen to music and work the afternoon away.

Until this school year I hadn’t spent much time in an elementary classroom. They are such bright, cheerful places and in addition to the fond memories, I love volunteering in Lucas’s Kindergarten classroom! I wish every parent could take this opportunity.

For some parents the thought of volunteering in their child’s classroom is scary, but making this contribution can be very rewarding for both you and your child.

If your schedule permits, why not?

Why you should volunteer in your child’s classroom:

It makes my son’s entire week when he knows that I will be spending time in his classroom. He feels special and I know I’m sending a very positive message to him that I care about his class, his teachers, his friends and his school.

There is nothing better than getting first-hand knowledge of what is going on in your child’s class and witnessing their teacher in action.

Spending time with and getting to know the children your child spends a good part of their week with is priceless. These are his friends, maybe for life. No more blank stares or asking, “Who is Matthew again?”.

Working with other students helps you realize that your child is right where they need to be. What other classmates may be struggling with or excelling at can give you great insight into your own child’s progress.

Teachers need help! Often times after working in Lucas’s classroom I get a big hug and a thank you from Lucas’s teachers. They are grateful for my help and I always leave feeling good about myself, even if all I did was filing and cutting strips of paper.

And I defy you to spend time with a bunch of insightful, cute, silly and full of life five- and six-year-olds and not leave feeling better about our world.

10 Years Ago

Posted on January 15, 2015 Written by Tonya

This photograph was taken almost 10 years ago in Nabeul, one of Tunis’s major ceramic centers. I was 32 years old.

April 22, 2005

Todd and I were visiting my parents, who lived in Tunisia at the time. My father was the elementary principal and my mother taught third grade at the American international school.

They played great hosts by taking us to see some beautiful places near their home. Looking through the photos from our trip, I am also reminded of our visit to El-Jem, known for it’s ancient Colosseum, sheep blocking roads (no trip to Africa would be complete without it) and our stay at the gorgeous African Jade hotel in Korba. The indoor/outdoor lobby was covered in vines. One of my favorite photos of me and father was taken in that lobby.

April 23, 2005

I also received one of the best massages I’ve ever had at the hotel spa.

Although our visit was memorable, I left unsettled. My parents seemed unhappy and stressed. They seemed happy that we were there, but preoccupied. The director my father was working for and with at the time was difficult and dropping the ball, leaving him to pick up the pieces. As I recall, it was his last year at the school and things did get better the following year.

When this photo was taken, Todd and I never thought we would return to Tunis two years later to remove the contents of my parents house or attend a memorial service given in their honor at the school.

When this photo was taken, Todd and I were two years from getting married and four from becoming parents.

A lot can happen in a year, but a lifetime can occur in 10 years!

My parents are no longer with us and my life looks much different today, so much loss and yet so much gain.

This is me today.

You can’t see it, but I’m wearing the same necklace I was wearing 10 years ago, a Raphael angel that I cling to in times of worry or unease.

My children have my father’s eyes.

November 29, 2014

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 1. Find a photo of yourself taken 10 years ago and display it on your blog along with a current photo. How have you changed since the day that photo was taken?

Another Mother

Posted on December 9, 2014 Written by Tonya

My mother died seven years ago but I have always missed her.

I think about my mother a lot during the holidays. She adored Christmas with a childlike glee, made the best chocolate chip and sugar cookies and could wrap a present like nobody’s business.

I wanted another mother.

I discovered at the tender age of 14 while getting ready for my first boy/girl party that the mother I had was never going to be the mother I needed. After helping me put together an outfit and apply the slightest bit of makeup, she said flatly I “looked fine” and shooed me out of her bedroom.

I was confused and hurt.

My mother was aloof and far way, indifferent and quiet. I tried like hell to get inside her head but she had no interest in self revelation or sharing herself with me. Or anyone, but perhaps my father and sister.

We struggled.

We struggled to communicate with one another, we struggled to relate to one another, we struggled to look each other in the eye. There was always a gaping distance between us. It wasn’t tension as the result of a big blow out, we simply had nothing to talk about. I remember a four-hour car ride we took together in which maybe ten words were shared.

Even after years of knowing what I would encounter each and every time, I still kept hoping that she would change. That she would let me in.

I needed a mother who was present and engaging, hands on and expressive. I wanted the kind of mother my friends had. One who was interested and interesting. I knew so little about the woman who raised me.

For years I thought if I could just find the right way to talk to her, she’d open up. Every question I asked lead to a dead end so eventually I gave up.

Things weren’t as quiet when my father was around and especially if my sister was present. Both served as buffers and provided topics of conversation.

As an adult, before both of my weddings and once on a very long family road trip I wanted to confront her but I chickened out because I was afraid of her response. My ego couldn’t handle more mommy disappointment. What could she say to me? “I’m sorry, I did the best I could.”? I didn’t want to hear that. Of course, I don’t know what I wanted to hear.

While I once thought my mother and I were as different as night and day, now I’m not so sure. Now that I’m a mother myself I feel like I know her in a whole new way. Is that crazy?

This was a stream of consciousness post written in 15 minutes with very little editing. My relationship with my mother is a topic that I could go on and on about as I try to dissect it, what I wish it was and how I find peace with it now that she is gone.

Family Tree

Posted on November 18, 2014 Written by Tonya

Just like I knew they would, my eyes fill with tears as I tell Lucas the photos we are carefully pasting to the page are the last ones taken of my parents. It was my wedding day, seven years ago.

I thought we’d have a couple more years before Lucas had a Family Tree project.

It’s basic, immediate family only, no research required and a few fun questions about our family including, who is the oldest member of our family and who has the longest eyelashes.

I’m worried.

Lucas has been known to tell complete strangers that my parents are dead. Just like that, he’ll blurt out to anyone who’ll listen, “My mom’s parents are dead.” It was shocking the first couple of times but, I expect it now. I’m ready when the cashier at the supermarket looks at me with a blank stare on her face unsure what to say next. “It’s okay.” I say. Of course, it’s anything but okay, but she doesn’t want to hear a sob story and I’m just trying to buy dinner.

Death is a regular topic in our home. I have shared here before the many conversations we have had as a family, the questions my five-year-old so inquisitively asks and the delicate way in which we attempt to ease his precious heart and mind by responding the best way we know how, with the truth.

For us, it is normal. I realize this is not the case in other homes and assume most of his classmates have two sets of living grandparents, maybe more.

Lucas only has one set of grandparents and they are kind and loving and a very big part of our lives. I am grateful for them every day.

I could argue that my parents are a big part of our lives too, as they come up in regular conversation, there are lots of photos of them in our house and many stories and memories to share. But are my parents no longer my children’s grandparents because they are not here physically or because they never had the chance to meet my children? We refer to them as Grandma and Grandpa Adams. In my mind that’s what they are. Right? I don’t have the answers. All I know is, their lives were cut short and were they here, they’d love Lucas and Lola to pieces.

I’m not worried about what Lucas will say when it is his turn to present his family to his class, he’ll no doubt share what details he knows, however, I am concerned about how the other children may respond.

I gave Lucas’s teacher a head’s up and she was grateful and reassured me that no two families are alike and that she would create a sensitive environment for whatever the children what to discuss.

Happily Ever After

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