Thanksgiving Through My Girl's Eyes

I tend to overthink and stress myself out over Thanksgiving. We've never had a disaster, we've always had great food, incredible company, but I let myself get bogged down in details and almost always get to the day itself feeling exhausted. And you know what? No one in the course of any Thanksgiving Day has EVER run their fingers over the tops of my picture frames to check for the dust that isn't there... I get to thank Maddie this morning for bringing me back down to what Thanksgiving is, the time we spend with family and why it is a day we look forward to.
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Thanksgiving Wishes - by Maddie Loverich

Every Thanksgiving Day is a fun day in my house. First, we watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. This is my favorite part of Thanksgiving morning. Next our church goes to Raab Park and plays football. It's always so much fun! But then we go home and the house starts getting filled with delightful smells. Those of turkey, stuffing and pie.

My family from my Mom's side usually comes over to eat. They are super funny! It think it runs in the blood.

But my Thanksgiving wish is a really good one. It would make it the best Thanksgiving ever.

My Uncle Tommy and Aunt Tuuli live in New Jersey. Uncle Tommy is super cool. He owns about 3 Harley Davidsons. He also has a hot rod.

But my wish for Thanksgiving is that they would come. That would make the ultimate Thanksgiving.
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To all our family and friends who we can't be with on Thanksgiving, you are here on our minds and in our hearts. I wish everyone a very special day. We are thankful for all of you!

A dozen.

I wanted to write a blog about our 12th anniversary coming up this Sunday. I wanted to write about how over the years, the way we love and the reasons for loving have changed in so many ways. But as I wrote out these intensely personal anecdotes, I realized, part of what makes (at least our) marriage work, is knowing when to speak up and when to shut up - and that is NOT my strong point, believe me, it's taken a lot of work.

Those memories for now, are just for us. Sunday I will celebrate a love that felt all-encompassing at each stage, but entirely different between then and now. I will thank him for not just being my husband, but my partner, my best friend, my anchor. For loving me even when I'm at my worst (I actually think he prefers me at my worst, the wallpaper on his cellphone is me giving him the finger and it makes him laugh every time he looks at it). Still, my favorite part of each day is folding into the crook of his arm at night and knowing he will hold me for the next 8 hours straight.

Happy 12th, Eric. Good stuff.

Protecting heads and hearts

Parker turned 8 yesterday. His big gift was a new football helmet - protection for his head. He was thrilled with it, but this September 25th was not going to be remembered simply because it was Parker's birthday, life had more planned for us.

Parks wanted to go out to breakfast, so we headed down before school. When we parked in a relatively empty lot, a woman ran up to our car and asked us to call 911. Her husband was in their car, having a heart attack.

While we both ran to him, we instructed the kids to stay in the car, not to open the doors at all. This man, whose name we didn't learn, was not in good shape, but was breathing. It seemed like the longest 5 minutes of my life until the ambulance arrived and we tried to keep him upright and his wife calm. I cannot imagine what was happening in their heads. We really were helpless, the best we could do was just stay there and keep an unconscious man breathing.

It was VERY hard. Seeing what we saw, hearing the words a wife says to a husband when they don't know if there is any time left. Today, Eric and I keep catching each other staring off in quiet moments, shaking our heads, doing the coulda, woulda, shouldas. If we knew his name, we could find out what happened, contacted family, whatever. I guess we did the best we could...

We're always looking for new ways to keep our kids safe, both physically and developmentally. When they are little, we pad all the corners, lock all the cabinets, tether the bookshelves, load them into carseats that Houdini couldn't escape (and probably wouldn't want to - some of those things are PLUSH!). They grow, we screen schools, teachers and friends. Luckily, our kids are still at an age where we can control where and with whom they spend their time. But yesterday, we learned that no matter how carefully you plan, you can't always protect your children from everything life will throw at us.

Fortunately, there was a car in between ours and theirs, so the children didn't see what was going on, but in their heads, the worst was happening. That head that we so carefully shopped for helmets and facemasks to protect, was filled with the most terrifying truth any of us have to face.

They were both sitting quietly crying when we got back in the car. We assured them that he was going to live, which we believe was true. But the horror was something no one ever would want to see on their children's faces.

Eric was remarkable. He distracted them and refocused their attention, even got them laughing with his goofiness as we got back to our house. It was all I could do, meanwhile, to make my hands stop shaking. Truly remarkable. It's the only word the keeps coming to me.

Parker and Maddie, I wish we could protect your heads and hearts from all of the hardships in this world. But I hope you take from this the strength and solidarity, the hugs and reassurance we will always have for you.

While I will keep buying the pads and helmets, I hope the love we try so hard to shroud you with will get you through everything else.

The Sacrifice That Wasn't

Months and months ago I logged on to Ticketmaster and shelled out a couple hundred dollars for something I thought was ridiculous, but in the effort to differentiate from my own mother, necessary.

The debit plastic was burning hot for Miley Cyrus tickets.

It was so far off in the future, I figured it was pointless to think too hard on it, besides, the tour itself didn't start until 2 nights before we attended. There would be no preparing, or reading other's blogs to prepare myself for the eardrum blistering amount of screaming I was sure to encounter. So it was just the Sunday before last that I glanced at the calendar and realized, "Crap. That's next week."

A small gaggle of girlfriends were also planning on attending with their daughters, so we made plans to travel down together, softening the blow with a rather large beer and dinner on the way. Since we'd all bought our tickets separately, (thanks to a 'paperless' process in which each person could only purchase 4, then only get email confirmation, then show up with nothing in hand but a long-ago purchase number and the credit card itself - truly could write an entry on this experience, so I will digress...) none of us were sitting together. Quite a bummer for both me and Maddie - I spent a lot of time sarcastically mimicking, didn't know the words but for a couple choruses and she knew I could never match her enthusiasm, who was she going to dance with and high-5? Certainly not her lame-ass Mom who kept referring to her as Hannah Montana, and didn't I know that she was performing as MILEY CYRUS? Evidently, they are no longer the same... Digress, again. So, it was just the two of us, in section 16-A.

So, as the days progressed, I took on the air of a true martyr. There was much sighing and implied selflessness as I made a point to loudly check the levels in my Advil bottles and tell everyone within earshot to remind me to put them in my purse for Wednesday night. I began referencing my trip to Preteen Hell as I wondered how I could possibly prepare my ears for the screeching onslaught from the crowd of tarted-up, pony-tailed and bedazzled elementary school kids whose screams would no doubt block out the whiny, countrified voice of Miley Hannah Ray Cyrus Montana that I just paid to hear - wait, was that a positive or a negative?

Then it was t-minus 24-hours and counting. Oh, was I pious! I was Jesus on the cross! The things I would do for my girl. I hope she appreciates this. The sacrifice! Hand to God, when I signed her out of school, I put 'Miley Cyrus' as the reason for her absence. "Are you serious?" The secretary asked and told me that this would stay in Maddie's record permanently, which I saw as a tremendous benefit - a reminder of what her Mother would do in her name! And in a few years, when there is no one (in her opinion) less cool than me, I can refer to state records to show that, yes, for one brief shining evening, I, Mom, did something cool.

You get the gist of how put-out I was by this whole deal, right?

Maddie made a sign, "Rock the Dome." (Puh-leese! I've seen Springsteen rock this dome... Ain't no way this 16-year-old pop tart was going to do anything close to rocking...) She put on an outfit that she saved her allowance to buy from the Miley Cyrus clothing line at Walmart. Maddie came out with sunglasses on her head, braids in her hair, a t-shirt with a heart and a drum set on it with matching leggings, under a denim skirt. Plaid, high top Converse finished off the look.

"Whaddaya think? Oh, wait!" And she returned with her sign, "Whaddaya think?"

What I thought was she looked adorable, excited and I couldn't wait to see her reaction when Miley walked out on stage. What I did, was roll my eyes and tell her to get in the car. I was put out, remember?

Now, during the day, I had taken the time to look up the reviews of Monday night's concert in Portland, again, the first of the tour. Expecting cute and bubble-gummy, instead I read that Hannah was growing up both artistically and physically. One reviewer wrote, "Miley's got boobs and she's anxious to show them." Great.

As we neared the Tacoma Dome, Maddie and the other girls' excitement was palpable. The smiles that broke out when we first saw the top of the dome from the road were probably worth $200 themselves. Then we got inside.

My kids, like many, many other American kids, have a sense of entitlement that has at times made me want to ship them to a 3rd world country for a month. I did not get one iota of this surrounding this concert, and haven't in the days since the concert, either. Walking into the stadium, Maddie was blissfully happy and grateful, to the point that her admiration of an empty stage made me tear up a little. That was when the hugs began. I got more hugs in that 3-hour stretch than I have in a year (and my kids are pretty affectionate).

The opening act was, well, it was a pile of crap. Turns out it was Miley's older brother's band who were all just fine skating by on nepotism and very little pride (or practice...). It was to say the least, a buzzkill, where even a 6-year-old would be justified listening to them and saying, "What the f?#@ is this?"

But then the concert started. This girl burst, literally, onto the stage from a block of "ice" amidst smoke, video screens, dancers, pyrotechnics and took over the auditorium. I admit to emitting a rather exuberant, "Woo!" But it'll never be proven as it was lost in the high-pitched cacophony that had exploded around me - notably from Maddie, screaming so loudly, I was a little afraid she was going to stroke out right there next to me.

The high-intensity show was so thoroughly entertaining, I found myself fake-singing along (you know, catch a few lines of a chorus, or anticipating the end of a line) with my daughter who danced and sang and danced and sang, and hugged. I suddenly felt like the loser, not for being at the concert, but for not knowing these songs everyone else was belting out at the top of their lungs. Dang, I want to know the words to Party In The USA, that looked like fun!

When the middle set slowed it down a bit with some more ballad-y songs, I found myself sitting watching this child, really, who is a money making machine. I wondered where she'll be in a few years when the Disney shine wears off. Will her positive message still be in the forefront of her music when Maddie is getting to that awkward age and could use the encouraging messages of strength from someone she idolizes? Where will this star end up? And my thoughts turned to Maddie...

I listened to Miley singing about love, finding a love, losing a love, learning who you are through the process, I got sad and excited at the same time thinking of my daughter only a handful of years away from that roller coaster. I remember how fun and utterly heartbreaking those teen years were - and I married my H.S. sweetheart, it could've been a lot worse! (I know, apparently, I get introspective when I'm at a mega-concert and don't know the music).

Anyway...

I sat there watching my daughter singing her little heart out, alternately dancing and hugging me when the mood hit, not really feeling that far away from the 16 year-old I had been, but at the same time looking forward to the young woman Maddie is quickly becoming.

I felt lucky to be there jumbled up in the spectacle of this powerhouse performer, glowsticks, clapping hands, Halloween wigs and sequins, my daughter uninhibited, looking at me with truly grateful eyes and telling me, "When I have a daughter, I'm going to take her to a Miley Cyrus concert!"

On the elliptical at the gym today, I switched my iPod on shuffle and my headphones belted out a Miley song - The Climb.

"I may not know it, but these are the moments I'm gonna remember most..." Sing it, sister.

Chapter May 2009 Part 2 - A follow-up in which Daddy redeems himself

It happened. It was was Eric's purple light and siren that began to sound over the din of the crowd at Viking Fest. He proceed to throw both fists up in the air and then point at me.

"Any one you want," the carnival gamer waved his arm at all the giant stuffed animals hanging overheard.

Eric scanned past the somewhat cute bears and dogs. Paused to consider the purple and green gecko, then he rounded the other side of the booth and spotted it, "There it is! I want my wife to carry THAT one!"

It was big and a hideous mottled yellow. It was a duck with a somewhat human body. The last of it's kind, the poor man had to pull out a stepping stool and a pinching tool to get it down from it's perch. But Eric won the big boy prize and there was nothing bigger or more neon to be had, this duck had found a home.

It could be worse... I guess I should just count my lucky stars that we didn't walk out of there with a mirrored picture of a bikinied woman posed on top of a red sports car, circa 1989... Those were at a different booth.

Chapter May 2009 - In Which Daddy Gets His Ego Bruised.

There was an entirely entertaining (for me and at Eric's expense) conversation over dinner. The family trash-talk had begun over carnival games at our town's big annual festival - Viking Fest. The kids are getting geared up for the carnie games and wondering which will be the lucky one for them this year. And on which ones Mom will win the big prizes. God love Eric, he just doesn't have the luck at those kind of things and somehow, (I attribute it to my Jersey Boardwalk summers) I do. As an example, the last trip back East, I had to pack an extra suitcase to get my Jenkinson's Boardwalk booty home for the kids. It's a tough subject around here, but tougher now that the kids realize Mommy wins them the big toys. I digress...

Anyway, tonight at dinner the kids started in about the games they wanted to play and win. When Eric offered to win certain prizes for them, and what he'd won them in the past, Maddie pointed out, "Uncle Tommy actually won me that." or "Wasn't that Mommy?" Sadly accurate, Eric took offense. The following conversation occurred:

Eric: "I've won BIG stuff before!"

Maddie: "I don't have anything big you've won for me, Dad."

Me(stoking the flames): "Me either, Dad. Not even when we were dating..."

Eric (flustered and scrambling for pride): "Well, one time in a fishing derby, I won a VCR."

Maddie: "How old were you?"

Eric: "I don't know...."

Parker (innocently puts down his milk and looks questioningly at his father and deals the killer stroke): "What's a VCR?"

One week and counting to Viking Fest. Let's all cross our fingers for Eric. His kids' respect hangs in the balance... And I vow not to pick up a single dart or water shooter!

My Girl

In the books, last night's game was a loss for our team. In my mind and heart, scores are not what I will take with me. When you coach a group of kids, you always wonder - did we do enough, did we do too much, are we doing it right? The answer is no. But somehow, those kids take all the heaps of information and their ambition and joy and form a team - even on that first game night, and that in the end is what they will take with them. I am so thankful to be a witness to that.

But I have to move from Coach to Mom to tell my story. Last night I saw my little girl, who will always be 3 years old somewhere in my head, stand on a pitcher's mound for the first time. She stood there and pitched 2 innings. They weren't spectacular, but it was her poise and control that actually moved me to tears (privately and briefly, to not embarrass myself or my kid). It was one of those moments when you step back and see your child grow up right in front of your eyes. I was awestruck by her strength and ability to block out the pressure, the noise, the last passed ball, the runners on the bases. She never fell apart. I watched her adjust when she got out of control, or something didn't work. And even though she walked more than she struck out, as her Mom, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.

One day, before I know it, this miraculous little girl that gave us such a bad time coming into this world, is going to become a woman. She will step out and start to live a life of her own. And if she shows just the faintest shadow of the person she was last night, it's going to be a great one.

After the game, we had a board meeting. Tired, physically and emotionally, as the clock neared 10, Maddie came out of the back room where she'd been hanging out with other board kids and curled into my lap - just like a 3 year old. Still in her uniform, with eyeblack smeared across her cheeks, she laid her head on my shoulder. She smelled like leather and her forehead tasted salty under my kiss. I write that now in hopes of locking it away, I know those moments when all she wants is to be in Mom's arms are running out on me. I hope I never forget how beautiful she looked out there, smiling, proud and so full of confidence and how she still fit into my lap afterward.

My girl.