A Letter to My Mother

Mom,

I remember the day that you sat Brighid and me down to tell us that you were sick. It was just after Christmas and we were both at home for the week. You and I had just gotten back from the store and I was holding these makeup brushes.

“Girls, I know you have noticed but I need to tell you something.”

And instantly everything seemed to change. I felt weightless. The makeup brushes I was holding all of a sudden felt like foreign objects and the bed I was sitting on seemed to float up to the ceiling. My mother, my rock, my controlled…organized…list making mom was about to change forever and what could I say?

“First my dog is dying, and now you.” Seriously, I cannot believe that that is what I said to you. Here, in your vulnerability you sat with your two daughters and told them information that took you months to say and I compared you to my dog. I am so sorry for that.

Forever you and I have had a special bond. I think in this family of loud, extroverted, Irish people we stood out for our reserved and introverted personalities. I remember taking naps with you—the only other person I know who can literally nap sitting up or mid-sentence (thanks for passing that down to me). I remember the first thing you taught me to bake and how you ingrained the importance of thank you notes into me. I remember singing the theme song of Providence together (In My Life, by the Beatles) and how that became our song. I remember how you held me when I cried during some of my darkest moments in high school and the time you held my hand in the car and told me I was the best thing you had ever made.

When you started to get sick this past month I was in disbelief. You were always such a strong and independent woman—always inviting me into your bed to sit and talk. On that Friday you seemed so tired. You reached for my hand and said, “I’m sorry. Just sorry. I need to sleep. I love you, baby.” You lifted your arm, something I knew was hard for you, and gave me a hug. “You’re so beautiful,” you said. And it was the last thing you ever said to me.

I got in my car to drive home and instead spent an hour crying on the phone with Jess. “Write her a letter, Kerry. It will make you feel better. Someone can read it to her, if you can’t.” I didn’t know that in a day you would be in a coma, and in three you would no longer be with us. I’d like to think that where you are you can still hear me so here is my letter.

Mom, you are loved. You are beautiful and strong and such an incredible role model for women and girls. Despite what you seem to think, you are not replaceable. I know that there were a lot of things that you wish you could have changed and that sometimes, I admit, I wish you would have done differently. But know that I don’t hold that against you and they are not my prominent memories of you.

I remember a woman who could make me laugh.

I remember a woman who made me feel confident and beautiful.

I remember a woman who was more organized and timely than anyone else.

I remember a woman who valued honesty…almost to a fault J.

I remember how it felt to know you loved me.

You are my mother; then, now and forever. I hate the idea of moving on without you, of getting married without you, of having children without you. But, in my heart, I know that you’re still here. I love you more, Mom.

The Weekend I Met My Uncles

First, a photo drop from earlier in the week to keep with my 365 challenge:

133/365:Some flowers I'm making in preparation for summer camp.

 134/365: P was Purple Day. Never been so happy to see so much purple in one room :).

135/365: A Minnie Marnie. Not so minnie lately.

 136/365: Some Wheeling in Springtime. 

 137/365: You have no idea how long it took to take this picture. And my dad...well, this is the best we could get. 

138/365: Sky Deck at Sears (whatever, Willis) Tower.

 139/365: Sleepy puppy after a long weekend. 

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Family is something that I have thought long and hard about over my life. I am one of those people who fully believes that family is what you make of it. My sister is my best friend, and this wasn’t just by design. My father worked hard to show us throughout our life how important it is to have family. There was many a fight that would end with my father intervening saying, “Enough. Friends come and go but you only have one sister.”

I would say that our family is closer than most. My siblings are more important to me than anyone else in this world. I would go as far as to say that my father has a closer relationship with his children than any other father—or at least equally as strong. I enjoy my family. I love my family. Spending a weekend with them is not a test on my patience or an obligation I need to keep. It is something I do often and something I enjoy.

All that being said, I am not as close with my extended family. When I was about 4 years old my parents made the difficult decision to move away from their family and friends to live in the Midwest where there was more opportunity for them. I can remember multiple times in my childhood where my mom would say, "I just want to go home." For a while I confused myself into believing that my mother had an alternate family. My mom was one of the few moms that worked full time while my father stayed home. She was already gone a lot more than I could understand. When she would say, "I want to go home" in the middle of our family room I started to believe that there was another family with better children, a bigger yard, and more puppies--definitely more puppies.

Soon, of course, I came to understand that the home she spoke of was Connecticut. The east coast is where my family was born (besides Michael) and my parents were raised. While technically it is my birth place, I would consider Chicago the place I was raised. Yet, there was always a longing. I am not sure my mother ever got over this transition.

Growing up I didn't understand why people cried when their grandparents died. I never knew mine. I thought it was weird that people had "family" birthday parties and friend birthday parties...when a family birthday party at my house was just another Tuesday night. I would say that there was always a consistent longing for something--or someone--more in my childhood.

This weekend I got to meet my uncles. Sure, I had technically met them before but not for many years had I seen them. It was so weird, and cool, to see my dad in the light of his brothers. There is something you can never understand about your parents until you see them in the way they may have been as children.

I know my dad has missed his family, but it's not something we ever heard stated the way my mother did. My dad has shown me he's missed his family by making our Christmas special each year--even in adulthood. He's shown me he misses family and family is important by teaching me to garden, like his grandmother did, and teaching me to cook how his father taught him. My dad shows me family is the core to everything he does by never hanging up without saying "I love you," by never saying no to the help we need, and by giving me the forever guidance my siblings and I need.

Family is so important. There's a bond between children and parents, sisters and brothers, uncles and nieces that not even time can break. I've missed my uncles, or at least the idea of uncles. I'm happy for the connection that this weekend gave us.

My idea of family continues to stretch and grow. My friends, my boyfriend, my siblings, their significant others, even my dog have all become the core to my life. This weekend, though I'm sad I had to say goodbye after one short weekend, I am happy for the Molway strength. The bond that exists between us, and probably many families, seems to be an unbreakable one. I hope my children are half as lucky to understand this feeling.

Home to Hayward

When I lived in Chicago my roommates and I would have a saying after a long day. This saying was mostly just fun alliteration we liked saying after awhile, but freshmen year it was definitely a way to remember which way to take the Red Line. "Home to Howard." Obviously we never went all the way to Howard, but as long as you weren't North of Lincoln Park, this worked out great. Except for that one silly night with Jburg where we were North of LP and ended up somewhere silly. "Not your stop..." That's another story.

130/365

 This weekend we went to Hayward. For the weekend this was our home away from home. I never have a problem falling into the "Hayward groove." There's something about no cell service and just drinking all day that has me thinking this is a place to settle into. If asked if I could ever live in this rural (if that's even a strong enough word) area, the answer would definitely be no. I like my life and my internet and my computer and my Target. But there's something so appealing about getting away for a bit. 

131/365: You can thank David for the penny to show size.,"

We spent the weekend playing Cranium, showing Brighid and David the local "sites," and eating too much fish fry. 

 132/365

I'm afraid to say too much and ruin the magic of the weekend.

I think Marnie had the most fun. She didn't wear her leash once and got to chase deer and ducks. Dog heaven. 

   133/365: Added some of my favorite Instax photos to the wall after the weekend. 

I'm already dreaming of going back. Happy Monday.  

Living in the Moment

Something I've never been too good at is living in the moment. I always dream bigger than today and look forward to the future. I have extremely vivid memories of being a child, sitting down with my sister, and planning out in detail what our futures were going to be like. We were going to live together and she was going to have a dog and I was going to have a bunny. Okay, so maybe I got the dog...but there was one fulfilled premonition!

Eric and Marnie. We walked forever on Sunday in the hopes she'd be tired for our early Mother's Day. 

Even now I'm having a hard time living for today. I know that this is not a positive thing and it's something I'm working on. I need to stop and enjoy the small things. But for me, the small things make me think of bigger things and all of a sudden I'm thinking larger and into future plans. Gosh, I'm doing it even now!

We've been counting down until the last day of school. And although the last day and week are not here yet, I already have a small "note" in my iphone about changes I want to make for next year.

I know that reflection isn't a bad thing. I live to improve and make my own life better. But presence. Yeah, I need to work on that.

It's been one of those weeks in education where I don't feel like I have taught my students a thing. I feel that their little minds are already checked out for the summer and I'm left scrambling to pick up the pieces and keep them from tearing each other apart before the end of the school year. It's hard, but I know it could be so much worse.

Is it just me or did anyone else love filling mailboxes for the teacher? Even now I get a silent thrill about getting to do it, daily.

For the moment, or at least this weekend, my goal is to stay present in each day. I'm headed up to Hayward with Eric and a few others. I'm excited for beer, stars, and photos I'll be taking. I'm also excited for Marnie to run free without the fear of a car hitting her. It's going to be a good weekend. 

I have been so bad at doing anything creative since we've gotten Marnie. "Forced" myself to make this the other night. Felt so good afterwards. 

Have a beautiful weekend. It's going to be a long--and present--one for me.

Hold On To Spring

Spring finally feels like it has hit the Chicago-land area and we are totally soaking it up. 

Some Instax photos from our weekend. 

I spent the weekend with Jess, saying our farewells to her first Chicago apartment and then attending a beautiful Sox game. Okay, the game was actually pretty awful, but I swear it's like the weather gods knew and they said, "Hey, this is a crappy game but here's your consolation prize...some sun."

My students have caught May Madness and all have a case of the sillies. It's been a major lifesaver to have nice weather so I can move a couple of my subjects outside.

I just love spring so much. I remember telling people when I was little that my favorite holiday was Easter. It's not that I don't like this holiday...but it certainly was not my favorite (hello, Halloween??). I think Easter was a good indicator that my birthday would happen and soon I could run outside with my dogs. I definitely have a hard time sitting still (figuratively) and I love a change of scenery. I love getting up and doing things; outside things. Spring opens the door to all these ideas without it getting hot.

Eric had unusually nice hours at work this week and was able to take a few walks with Marnie and me. We found a few new places in our neighborhood. One being this stream. This stream actually runs behind our apartment complex. It's interesting how seeing something from another angle can change your appreciation of it.

We live right next to a church. It's a beautiful church with a gorgeous rectory. Unfortunately Marnie doesn't appreciate the beauty or the sacredness of a holy lawn. She sniffed. She pooped. The rest is history.

I simply cannot get over how close and easily accessible all the forest preserves are by my apartment. it totally makes up for the smelly building I live in. Having a dog has taught me to appreciate places like this so much more. It has also made me want to hurt people who throw their cigarette butts on the ground. My dog eats a pack a day. Not really...but she tries!

She's a great salamander hunter. Anything for a snack.

I hope this weather keeps up. I wish I could find a spot in the world that stays this cool and warm at the same time. Happy Sunday.

Looking Back

I love to look back. I love good memories after a long weekend. I love looking through my parents' photo albums. I love hearing stories about other people's childhoods. But most of all, I just like to personally look back and remember small moments. 

114/365 Craft I did this week that is completely unrelated to what I'm talking about right now.

This week we started our ABC Countdown to summer. I instantly thought of Pajama day and Crazy Hair day (two days that Brighid and I would almost always refuse to participate in. Sister alliance!). But I loved the countdown. Even if I didn't love the activity of the day, it really broke up that last month of school into things to look forward to. I can still remember walking up to the library door and seeing the letter for that day posted. It was always big and bright and a different color of the rainbow. I tried to see if they went in the order of the rainbow when I was in 3rd grade. They didn't. That pissed off the perfectionist in me.

115/365
 
 For B in our classroom we did Book Day. All the students were to bring in their favorite books. I brought in my favorite, too. Caps For Sale. I couldn't tell you how many times we forced my father to read this to us. He never seemed to mind--never once said no. And I loved the way that he would read it. He would make a silly accent for the peddler, and the monkeys always made a different sound when they would talk back. Once I could read independently I temporarily ruined the magic of this book. I realized that my father never read from the book. Each night he would make up his own story to go along with the illustrations.I remember feeling so broken hearted. For some reason I have always dwelled on ends of things, and in this instance I kept thinking, "How am I going to read this to myself when my dad isn't there to read it to me anymore?" Morbid child I was.

116/365
 
We finished the week with C day. Crazy Sock day. I have an inexplicable number of patterned socks. I love holiday socks, colored socks, and fuzzy socks. If I see polka dot socks I have to buy them. I have probably have too many socks. Best. Day. Ever!

Earth Project Challenge

We are celebrating our earth all week this week. I can't tell you the amount of projects I have come up with that have to do with earth. Math, science, art, reading--all these subjects plus the earth. Got to love a challenge.