Category Archives: Family

How Lovely Are Your Branches

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I don’t remember placing a single ornament on our first ever artificial Christmas tree last year, not even the ones I bought for each of my children. I don’t recall shopping for gifts, wrapping them in patterned paper and shiny bows, or placing them under the tree. I have no idea what we made for the family dinner we hosted on Christmas Eve. I’m certain we did these things. I have the photographic evidence to prove it. But I have no memories.

Last year my aunt, who raised me and was a grandmother to my children, died four days before Christmas. She had been ill with pneumonia since Thanksgiving and passed away shortly after her 92nd birthday. Given her age, frailty and poor health, her death was a blessing. But that didn’t make it any easier for her children, grandchildren and all those who loved her to let her go.

The weeks surrounding my aunt’s death were a numb blur, and the holidays became something to endure rather than enjoy. I can see it in my glassy eyes and forced smile in a photograph of my husband and me that I don’t recall being taken on Christmas Eve. It appears that I put on the “happy mommy” show as best I could for my family, but it was as phony as our new tree.

After the holidays, we packed up the 12-foot, pre-lit tree, which my husband hated and hadn’t wanted to buy in the first place. He swore we’d get a real tree next Christmas.  I don’t remember caring too much one way or another about the tree being artificial. I just didn’t want to look at it anymore.

As the weeks and months passed and took us further away from Christmas, my numbness faded. It may not be the nature of grief to release us entirely, but it does slowly loosen its grip. The darkness gradually lifts, and the good days, so fleeting initially, grow more frequent. The ghosts of our memories move to the outskirts of our thoughts, and we focus on those who remain before us. We remember to feel, we remember to live, and we desire to do both.

This year my husband tried to convince me to get a real tree, but I wanted to give “Tree-hemoth” a second chance. I even managed to talk him into putting it up the week after Thanksgiving, which is early for last-minute holiday non-planners like us. The door of my home office stays open all day so I can admire my glimmering fake fir.

I am feeling festive without pretending, but I haven’t deluded myself into expecting a picture-perfect holiday. I know there will be stress, and some things will go wrong. I will miss my aunt and everyone else who is no longer with us or cannot be here. But I’m ready to make new, happy memories with my family. My smile in this year’s photo will be real.

Beautiful Girl

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Always smiling and laughing, then and now.

When I had my son, and for the next almost two years, I thought nothing could compare with the experience of being a mother to that sweet little boy. Until I saw my daughter’s platinum blond hair, hooded hazel eyes and tiny button nose for the first time. The song playing in the hospital suite when she was born couldn’t have been more perfect: “Beautiful Girl” by INXS.

Before I had you, my beautiful girl, I thought I could never love another baby as much as your brother. You proved me wrong. Here are some of the countless reasons I love you:

  1. One of my favorite early memories of you was the first time you let out that sweet, infectious belly laugh of yours. Don’t ever stop laughing like that. It’s priceless.
  2. You may only be 11 years old, but you are one of the most fearless people I know. When you were a toddler, we called you “Danger Girl” and for good reason: Your chart at the doctor’s office was three times as thick as your brother’s. As your mom, I sometimes worry about your risk-taking nature, but I’m in awe of it as well. I hope you will always take chances.
  3. You are a loyal, loving friend. It gives me so much joy to see how many of your peers adore you and treasure your company. You seem to intrinsically know how to make and maintain friendships, and that is something your far less social mom really admires about you.
  4. You don’t gossip or speak ill of others. I have never heard you say a bad word about anyone (well, except your brother, and you said it to his face). You remind me so much of my grandmother in that way, and my dad. Don’t let anyone change that about you.
  5. You have so much self-confidence. It astounds me how you just jump into things without hesitating. If you have any self-doubt whatsoever, you never let it show. I want to bottle your confidence and save it for later in your life. My hope is that you won’t need it.
  6. You are self-sufficient and independent. I don’t know if it’s because I was working part-time from home when you came along, but you have always been able to take care of yourself and find ways to stay busy. I think that’s at least part of why you are such a happy, well-adjusted person.
  7. You are creative and talented. From the time you were a toddler, you were always making things. It used to be finger paints and Play-Doh; now it’s cupcake baking and duct tape art. I hope you will explore and expand your creative side throughout your life.
  8. You are a great conversationalist. You definitely, and thankfully, take after your father in this department. You know how to talk to people, and you truly listen when others are speaking.
  9.  You don’t worry about what other people think. You are my little spitfire, full of fun and goofiness. You know how to have a good time and you always do. Life is way too short to worry about looking silly. I hope you never will.
  10. Your capacity to love is endless. You welcome and enjoy everyone you meet, and I couldn’t be more proud of your huge heart. Never stop letting love in, sweet girl. It’s what makes life worth living.

Today is the last day of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). It was my first time participating, and blogging daily for 30 days was a pretty crazy experience. But I did it, darn it! And there’s the badge below to prove it. Cheers to all my fellow NaBloPoMo-ers! 

My Sweet Boy

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Six months ago, my 13-year-old son got angry with me for complaining about his teenage attitude here. What I was really talking about was that I didn’t want him to grow up. Still, I decided to respect his privacy and not write about him anymore. All was well and good until I wrote about a walk I took with his sister and the meal she made with their father.

My son’s response: “Why don’t you ever write about me?”

Truth is, I have wonderful things to say about him and the person he is. I just haven’t written about them because I didn’t want to embarrass him.

Well, kid, you asked for it … Here are just a few of the many reasons I love you:

  1. You are whip-smart, witty and downright hilarious. But you’re also sweet, gentle and compassionate.
  2. We have a connection that goes beyond firstborn and mother. I truly enjoy your company and our friendship. I hope we always have it.
  3. I see my father in you and my grandmother — two of the people I loved most. You are an old soul, a quiet observer with a caring heart.
  4. You are wise beyond your years, and you keep me on my toes with your ideas and questions. Sometimes I honestly have no clue what you are talking about, but I love learning from you.
  5. When I am edgy or sad and think no one can tell, you notice. You see the things others miss and you care enough to ask about them. You will make some lucky girl a fabulous husband someday.
  6. You will also be a wonderful father. You are patient with and kind to little kids. They love you because you take the time to interact with them.
  7. You are an exceptionally gifted musician. When you play the piano, it makes my heart ache. All the passion you feel comes out in your playing.
  8. You worry about your little sister and you look out for her at school. Even though you two fight like crazy much of the time, you are a loyal and loving brother.
  9. You tell me you love me whenever you say goodbye — in person or on the phone, and even when your friends around. Don’t stop doing that. Ever.
  10. I never thought I would have kids, but suddenly I wanted one. It’s as if I knew you were coming and how wonderful you would be. Thank you for changing my life and being the best son I could ever have.

My little sweetheart on his first birthday. He just woke up from a nap and wasn't quite ready to party.

Creatures of Habit

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My father and me in 2005 at his 80th birthday party

My dad ate poached eggs and toast for breakfast every day when I was a teenager living with him in Livonia, Michigan. He woke up at 5 a.m., put on a pot of coffee, read the paper and made his simple but satisfying morning meal. He didn’t say much as he sat at the kitchen table, methodically planning his morning. His shift as security director at Mount Sinai Hospital in Detroit didn’t start until 3 p.m., but he had things he needed to accomplish beforehand. Each moment would have a purpose; no task would go undone.

As a World War II veteran and retired Detroit police officer, my father experienced turbulence and loss throughout most of his life. At 18 he was on board a U.S. Navy ship bombed by a Japanese suicide plane in the Sulu Sea. A torpedo from a nearby destroyer sunk the U.S.S. Ommaney Bay, and 95 of his fellow Navy men were lost.

Whatever remained of my father’s innocence sank to the bottom of the sea with his ship. He returned to the states suffering from what would now be diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorder. He was haunted by what he had seen and needed to re-establish order in his life. He went from the Navy to the police department, finding comfort in the structure of enforcing the law.

But the chaos followed him, professionally and personally.

It traveled with him through the streets of Detroit as a beat cop, and as he climbed the department ranks to become an inspector. In 1967 it took shape in the Detroit riots, the violence and destruction of which left the city he fought to protect in ruins.

That same year he and my mother faced the personal upheaval of an unexpected pregnancy. They were relieved and pleased that what my 40-year-old mother thought might be a tumor turned out to be a baby. Two-and-a-half years later, she was diagnosed with leukemia and died within six weeks. My older siblings stayed with my father in Detroit, and I went to live with my aunt and uncle in nearby Southfield. Two teenagers were enough; a toddler was more than a devastated widower could handle.

At 11, I returned to live with my father, a man I barely knew, and his new wife. I didn’t understand him or his rituals. I didn’t know about the things that had happened to him or what he had seen. I couldn’t possibly comprehend the significance of his morning routine, the structure he imposed on his life. I wouldn’t realize who my father was and why until I heard his stories years later and then experienced firsthand some of the chaos and loss that come with adulthood, including his death six years ago.

Now, as a wife and mother of two, I find comfort in morning rituals of my own. I pop out of bed at 6 a.m., rouse my bleary-eyed children and head downstairs to prepare their lunches. I make myself a cup of coffee, turn on the television for the local weather report, and silently and methodically plan my day. Each moment will have a purpose; no task will go undone.

I am my father’s daughter.

Five Star Friday

A Sort-of-Top-Secret Family Recipe…Ssshhh!

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My family and I spent a very busy day together yesterday cleaning and decorating the house for the holidays. We were all in need of a little R&R by the time evening came along, so we decided to finish our day with one of our favorite Sunday activities: making dinner together. My husband and daughter did most of the work to prepare our Italian feast of braciole and pasta. I took a lot of pictures. The recipe and photos follow. The back story is that this is a recipe my husband’s family (his paternal grandfather is Italian) has made for years. In the 18 or so years we’ve been together, he’s tweaked it considerably.

(Disclaimer: My husband would not allow me to blog the specific spices of his recipe for pasta sauce. Sometimes you have to just listen to your own palate. But he did say that with spices — such as thyme, for instance — less is always more.)

Pasta Sauce

4 28-oz. cans of Italian peeled tomatoes (purée by hand)
7 cloves of garlic, minced
1 1/2 small onions, chopped
Salt and pepper

Sauté onions in olive oil until almost translucent. Add garlic. Continue to sauté until garlic softens. Add puréed tomatoes. Salt and pepper to taste. Add the spices of your choice (see disclaimer above and remember that the braciole will cook in the sauce and add a TON of flavor). Bring to a boil and then reduce to simmer. Stir occasionally while you prepare the braciole.

Braciole

2 lbs. very thin flank steak (1/4 inch or thinner)
1/2 a bunch of parsley, chopped
6 cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup dried parmesan
1/4 stick butter
Salt and pepper

Lay out the flank steak on a clean surface (cutting board or counter). Cut into sections long enough to roll.

Sprinkle each piece of steak with enough salt and pepper to cover it liberally.

Evenly add parsley, garlic and parmesan to insides of each section of meat (allow enough uncovered outside space for folding).

Tightly roll each section of steak, folding the spices into the meat as you roll it. Insert toothpicks to hold braciole in place.

Take a moment to kiss your co-chef — if appropriate.

Sauté braciole in 1/4 stick of butter and enough olive oil to cover pan for 20 minutes (10 minutes on each side — long enough to brown).

 


After the braciole and sauce are ready, add the meat to the sauce and deglaze the meat pan with red wine. Add deglazed drippings to sauce.

Let sauce simmer for at least 1 1/2 hours. Serve with pasta.

Enjoy!

Kids Night Out in the City

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We headed into Chicago last night with our kids and some friends — former city dwellers like us — and had a great dining, theater and shopping adventure. The best part: We all enjoyed ourselves, kids and adults alike.

Dinner was at one of our favorite restaurants: Penny’s Noodle Shop in Wrigleyville. We live in the South Suburbs, and decent Thai food restaurants are hard to find out this way. When our friends suggested we grab a bite at Penny’s, we were all over the idea. Spring rolls, tom yum soup and pad Thai: all delicious. It’s also a quick and super affordable place to eat for a family or group.

Next up was Blue Man Group at the Briar Street Theatre on Halsted. It’s crazy, I know, but somehow my husband and I have never seen this production. We were super excited to experience it for the first time with our kids and friends. It turned out to be the perfect theater event for older kids: fast-paced, interactive, visually exciting, a little gross and naughty, and filled with hilarious pop culture references. The age range of our four kids is 10 to 13, and they all thoroughly enjoyed it.

A warning to those with younger children: The noise level is extremely high, and the show might be overly stimulating visually and even scary. I did hear a few little ones crying in the beginning (before the sound drowned them out).

My kids hanging with their new blue friend at Briar Street Theatre in Chicago

No visit to Lakeview is complete without a little thrift store shopping. After Blue Man Group, we found our way over to Hollywood Mirror on Belmont. The kids had a blast exploring the racks and shelves of flashy trash and kitsch, and we had almost as much fun watching them. This mama was having some serious ’80s flashbacks, especially when my daughter decided she couldn’t live without a pair of black-and-white checkered suspenders.

After a quick caffeine break at Starbucks, we decided to check out the holiday lights on the Magnificent Mile. It was a bit of a detour on our journey home, but it was the perfect ending to our big city family adventure.

Post-Turkey Day Round-Up

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I hope you enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family. I sure did. In fact, I am still in my PJs this afternoon and just finished a delicious sandwich made from my sister-in-law’s leftover turkey. I don’t know about you, but the idea of stepping out into the shopping insanity that is Black Friday is appalling to me. I’m more of a Cyber Monday kind of girl.

Anyway…I need to catch up around here before another whirlwind weekend begins, but I thought I’d share a few pictures from our Black Wednesday and Thanksgiving.

From hard rockin’…

My husband (far left) and his band, The Bishop, played Goose Island Wrigleyville on Black Wednesday.

…to family fun and a great dinner at my sister-in-law’s house.

It's always more fun at the kids table, right? My son (far left) and daughter (far right) and their sweet little pilgrim cousins on Thanksgiving day.

Enjoy your weekend!

The Power of Thankfulness

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Photo credit: Kerry Murphy Photography

At about 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday, my husband called to tell me about a “planned power outage” in our subdivision the next day. Apparently, Commonwealth Edison would be doing some work related to a nearby highway expansion project, which had already caused our neighborhood months of aggravation. In addition to street closures, we now faced having our power shut off from as long as 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.

We were both perturbed about the short notice. How would we survive without Internet access for up to six hours? What would happen to all the food in our fridge and freezer? What would our kids do all day with no source of electronic entertainment? And what about Thanksgiving?

My biggest chore was to make a green bean casserole to take to my sister-in-law’s house, and that could certainly wait till Thursday morning. But what about the people in the neighborhood who were hosting dinner and hoping to get a head start on Wednesday? Most of the items on their to-do lists — baking, preparing side dishes, cleaning the house, washing and ironing linens — would require power, which they wouldn’t have for six hours. Annoying? Yes. But at least they would still be able to work their holiday magic once the power was restored in the well-equipped, fully functioning kitchens of their heated Midwestern homes.

What about the thousands of East Coasters who remain without power three weeks after Superstorm Sandy? How will they make Thanksgiving happen?

According to The Daily Beast, 18,095 people in Long Island are still powerless, as are 2,170 in New York City and 14,000 in New Jersey. To make matters worse, temperatures on the East Coast are expected to drop into the thirties tonight. Missing a day to prepare for Thanksgiving doesn’t matter much when you have no way to heat your home, let alone cook a turkey.

Thanks to countless individuals and organizations donating time, space and meals, lots of the Sandy victims without power will have warm dinners today. I’m sure that despite their three weeks of loss and suffering, they will give thanks for the family, friends and love that surround them — no matter where their dinner tables happen to be.

As it turned out, our planned power outage never happened. But sometimes a small inconvenience, or the potential for one, can really help you put things in perspective. Today I am thankful for a hot meal, a warm place to sleep and the love of my family. Although I may forget it sometimes, they are the only things I need.

Wordless Wednesday: Walkin’ With My Baby

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I took a long walk yesterday for the first time in ages, and my youngest went with me. Her 11-year-old legs had a hard time maintaining my adult pace, so she jogged a little here and there to stay by my side. I know I’ll soon be struggling to keep up with her as she grows into a teenager and then a young woman. Our relationship will change, and so will the moments we have together. Some will be bad, some will be good. All will be different.

I will remember that walk yesterday, her innocence, her curiosity, her laugh, and those little legs trying to keep up with mine.