Dodie’s china, tarnished silver and love

Lordy. Today was a good day. We hosted 24 people. The table clothes were wrinkled, the glassware didn’t match and the silver needed a good polish.

I didn’t polish the silver. In fact I only found the silver last night in a desperate attempt to find more forks. We still have some unpacking to do.

Nevertheless, two beautiful turkeys and an impressive ham made its way into our bellies along with a little grape and a lot of laughter. My grandfather at 91 and my nephew at 2 1/2 adorned the table along with the rest of us, all between the spectrum of youngest to oldest.

family

This is what life is isn’t? These moments around a meal; a piece of pie, breaking bread, pulling out my grandma Dodie’s china, toasting the beauty of being together.

Perhaps that is what creating a legacy is about. Tiny moments that weave into bigger stories. The comfort of being surrounded by unconditional love and mashed potatoes.

Happy Thanksgiving sweet friends.

3 Tips to Grieving Parents Surviving the Holidays

Hey Loves! Our Mito Memories group is talking about surviving the holidays on Sunday. I thought I would post my own guide.

3 Tips….maybe more but this sounded like a good place to start.

1- This is Yours

Believe this and covet this. What I am about to tell you is a horrible truth but I think if you know this, it helps. Are you ready?

This journey is yours.

No one knows the crazy-ass painful extent of your grief. They don’t, they cannot. They may think they understand and yes, they may be in your court and want to support you but Honey, Sweet Love, this pain is yours to carry.

And I’m sorry for that.

I tell you this because your family and friends may be super supportive. They may be there for loves, and hugs and kisses and they want you to be happy. My goodness! They want nothing for you to be happy.

But sometimes in this journey, you cannot, you physically, mentally cannot be happy.

That is okay.

Protect your right to be sad.

Guard this right for yourself and for your family. I had many people ask what was wrong with Hubs and was he doing okay. I said, ‘yeah he’s alright.’ When I should have said holy schmoly no! He is not alright! He is f8cking sad! Let him be sad!

Allow yourself to be sad. If you get too sad, allow yourself to find help. Help is awesome. Truly. I love sitting with someone who will listen and nod with me for an hour.

Validation is fabulous.

2- Find your muse

My outlet is to write.

Do you sing? Paint? Build? Knit? Draw? Photograph? Clean? Cook? Find you thing and think of your Love when you do it.

I have no outlet you may say. And to that I say you do. Dig deep, find it. Cook for the homeless, downward dog your ass off, glue-gun sesame seeds to bowls, glitter the walls…..

Find a place where you can find peace in your head.

3- Think of your Love

Honor that sweet little pickle. Honor that Love in your own sacred way, make that honor yours and yours alone. For me, this space is my very own lovely, guarded scared space, it is filled with songs that bring tears to my eyes, sunrises that take my breath away, a pair of Samantha’s shoes and a stuffed lion that ride in my car.

I love and kiss them all.

What’s crazy is that when I try to explain my sacred space to others: when a song comes on that reminds me of my girl….

Lumineers…..

Lovely girl wont you stay, wont you stay, stay with me

All my life I was blind. I was blind, now I see……

Something is watered down by my explanation to others and then I almost regret bringing that person into my sacred space.

Because this is my song, for my girl.  Lovely girl

So Loves. Find your space this season. Guard it with the intimacy of your love, your pain, the complexity of the shitiness you have been dealt. Make a list of three things that will make this season successful, make that success dependent on no one else but you.

You can do this. You can honor your Love and survive the holidays. Honor who you are, honor your sadness, honor your sacred space. Nothing else matters. Scalloped potatoes can kiss my hiney.

Farts are Funny

If you spend an extended amount of time with me, one thing will become glaringly obvious.

I am a child.

Seriously.

I can bring my game when I need to; fold my napkin in my lap, use the correct fork, sip my tea, clap appropriately……but to know me is to know that underneath it all I am an inappropriate hot mess.

And I fart.

Sometimes.

Tonight I am rolling off of a girls weekend filled with Neil Diamond cover bands, deep conversations, not-so-deep conversations, wine, cheese, chocolate and too little sleep. Those weekends are good. And needed.

If you haven’t had one in a while call your girlfriends up now. Call them! It doesn’t have to be a fancy weekend, or expensive weekend, book a night at the Holiday Inn, grab a bucket of chicken, a cheap bottle of wine, and talk in your comfy pajamas.

We don’t talk anymore. We do, we text, we post.

Talk.

Truth reveals itself over talk.

And chicken wings.

I spent a weekend in close quarters with my besties; eating chicken wings and brie, drinking chardonnay and pruning in the hot tub. Ironically, I during this time I forget how to sip my tea. I don’t care which fork is correct. And neither do my friends; which is a good thing.

Because day two of chicken wings and chardonnay leads to gastro distress. Distress that you can’t blame on the dog because no one brought a dog. Distress that when it’s quiet at 7:30 in the morning and your besties hear you toot from the bathroom, it is followed by five minutes of belly laugh.

Farts are funny. Finding friends that share in your seventh grade boy humor is priceless. Go gather your gassy gals and settle down for a weekend.

And chicken wings are still delicious.

 

 

I Was Born in the Rain on the Pontchartain

 

I found myself in San Antonio this week at the Mountain States Regional Genetic Conference.

 

I love Scientists.

 

I swear.

 

Thank you for being awesome and amazingly smart and wanting to change the world. I will continue to try and raise money for your efforts because I know you hate that part; ya’ll just continue to try and save us.
Science brought us newborn screening.

 

 

 

Did you know that 1 in 300 newborns have a genetic condition detectable through newborn screening? There are 31 newborn conditions, most states screen for 29. All of these conditions are treatable if identified early; some are fatal if not.

 

And time is NOT on your side. Successful cases had to do with an accessible lab, a committed medical team and an expedient relay of life saving information.

 

Diseases of the mitochondria are not part of the 31 BUT in 2012 Pulse Oximetry became part of the screen and they would have caught Sammers crazy O2 levels.

 

Who knows where we will be in six more years.

 

I heard many amazing stories the last couple of days. Amazing, life changing, my baby-is here-because-of this-science stories.

 

I love these stories.

 

But they are hard. I wanted us to be the life changing story. But we are not. So in the middle of all of these amazing stories, I have to remind myself not to be an asshole and pay attention and be grateful. Trust me, its better for all of us.

 

Day one was a long day.

 

Long days must be celebrated with margaritas on the River Walk. I sat next a lovely, slightly lippy Mom from New Orleans. We bonded immediately and decided we must be related in some way.

 

She talked about her Little and his diagnosis that was achieved through newborn screening.

 

‘He was born during Katrina,’ she said.

 

‘My God.’ I said. ‘He was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain.’

 

I realized what I said and that it could be taken as flippant.

 

‘No disrespect.’ I said, ‘I love that song. But oh my hell, you all are that family….in the hospital…. during the hurricane.’

 

Since we are certainly related in some way, she took no offense but we talked about these issues, when time is of the essence and great big freakin’ Katrina rears her ugly head. Or even when Katrina doesn’t rear her big head but when you live 300 miles from a lab, your baby is born on a Friday and the lab is closed over the weekend.

 

1 in 300 babies. Newborn screening is the most successful health initiative in the nation.

 

And it could still be better.

 

These last two days were amazing. As they always are when I’m with my people and can talk about our history freely.

 

Perhaps many of us were born in the rain on the Pontchartain

 

Underneath the Louisiana moon

 

Don’t mind the rain of a hurricane

 

They come around every June

 

High black water, the devils daughter

 

She’s hard, she’s cold and she’s mean

 

But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water

 

To wash away New Orleans
– Band of Heathens

 

Beauty

Beauty:

Last week I forgot my bike shoes on a ridiculously early morning ride with my wonderful friends.

Forgetting bike shoes on a road bike is like forgetting ski boots on skis, cause you’re all strapped in, all fancy like

…that and I drove in in slippers.

There was no riding for me.

Which was bad because I woke up all amp’d to ride and then I couldn’t…..

….and then the stress of the day took its toll

….mito kids were not doing well

I came home and I needed to ride.

My bike shoes greeted me at the door like abandon puppies…were ya’ been? You left us!  

Or that is how I would like to think of them because they are so stinkin’ cute!



Here they are left over right….mixin’ it up.



I rode. Head full, heart heavy.

I rode more, head clear…

I rode more….heart beating too fast to be heavy

I rode more….I could no longer think, only yell back at my legs

My legs are COMPLAINERS!!!!

A butterfly landed on my hand….kinda because I was climbing so slow, the butterfly thought I was a good place to land…like a very slow island. And I studied this delicate, beautiful wonder until a bead of Heather sweat landed on its wings…..

EWWWWWW…

It flew away.

This week was hard. Our special needs community lost a dear boy.

Lost….he died.

It is surreal to me that I am part of a community where children die. But I am, and in an odd way, this reality is what connects us. This unreal, horrible , vulnerable reality connects us.

And the news was sent out. And we all processed it….as mothers, as friends, as warriors. And we cried….

And then we search for the beauty.

I think these Special Needs Moms are amazing; I don’t know if it’s because bad news has been told so often, the good is searched for and then inhaled like oxygen.

Or if the bad has been told so often that every new day is a gift.

Or if magically, they find a way to clear the head and fill the lungs.

No matter. To bike shoes. To a beating heart.  And a sweaty butterfly. 

We Are Good. We Have Plenty

I do like Thanksgiving. 

I find it the simpler of holidays….a holiday focused around a meal, gratitude, family….. 

Hubs and I went to Virginia to visit my Mama-in-Law. The flight is long, the drive is long….time to think…the visit is relaxing and instead of Black Friday shopping, I thought about what I am grateful for. 

I post a lot about gratitude and I do mean it- Our family and friends are like oxygen to me but if I said that the holidays don’t get to me a bit, I would be lying. I would love our family to be different. 

but we are not

and so I search for simpler things to make me grateful: 

1. Pink sunrises and sunsets: 
Times when the world is illuminated in pink are the times when I know my girl is watching over me. In Colorado, there are times when the entire horizon is enveloped in pink. I look up, take a deep breath, and thank her

2. People over 80: 
I spent this vacation with the most interesting people; one who was a secretary during the Nuremberg trails, another who spent time with Lindbergh (she commented that he was a crazy driver). So many stories, so much life, I ate it up with a spoon. We talked about life and ate pie. These 80+ women were the Cat’s Pajamas. 

3. Cats Pajamas: 
Just ‘cuz

4. I am happy I can read: 
14% of us in the US cannot. Think about that book that you treasure and how it changed your life. 

5. My body: 
HA! Because I never scrutinize it the mirror 🙂 

As I get older it is less about my pouchy belly but more that I am thrilled to have legs that will take me up a mountain and down a mogul field. It is not perfect but it works and I am happy everyday for my beating heart, my breathing lungs and my gigantic you-can-feed-a village-thighs

6. My job: 
I do like my job, my company and the people I work with

7. Our nieces and nephews: 
My goodness, how we adore you. And what a thrill it is to see the oldest become a good man, the youngest smile and the joy you ALL bring our families. That….. and you still think I’m cool or let me think I think I’m cool. I love you. 

8. My Babies:
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. You will always be the best thing I have ever, ever done 

9. Hubs: 
Yeah…..you’re pretty good. It’s not until you walk through hell and back that you realize who you want to walk through hell and back with

10. I am grateful to this life: 
To this journey. We are here only briefly. What will we do? Will we lament how we have been robbed? or will we look for the pink in the sunset? 

As I set the Thanksgiving table we talked…..do we need to carve more turkey? Do you need more rolls? Stuffing? 

The response? We are good. We have plenty. 

Heady Mama- By Samantha

Mama is a bit full of herself the past couple days. Her attention should be fully on ME but lately she’s like a giddy school girl.

She gets like this when she gets published. This week she’s seen her name in print twice so go figure, she’s queen of the world.

Earlier this week her essay on I’m Bringing Sexy Back came out in Get Born. It highlights a typical date night for Mama and Daddy……zzzzzzzzzzz……

Mama loves Get Born, adores the editor and says the writing is unique and snarky….whatever that means. I’m only interested in the pictures and as Mama would say, the photography is fabulous.

Check back here the next week or two….Mama will be giving away a Get Born subscription to her 20,000 visitor!

And then, THEN, because she just wasn’t prancing around enough…..this arrived yesterday; Mama’s second Chicken Soup publication. And there she is on page 25.

To make matters even worse, none of these stories are about me. Thanks Dad! is a story about Pops.

This sexy story is about date night. Date night? What’s interesting about date night? It only means I get a babysitter.

I the midst of her gallivanting around the house, Mama did manage to talk me for walk yesterday. She taught me how to moo at the cows….Silly Mama.



Can I Hold You Tight Enough?

Sometimes after a tough week….

When our precious, fragile community seems to be on it’s knees…

When kiddos we know and love have been hospitalized, poked, prodded and even induced into a coma so that their poor brain can stop seizing…

I place Samantha on my lap,

And smell her sweet breath,

And kiss her nose,

And feel her eyelashes blink against my cheek,

And think that I cannot possibly hold her closer or adore her more.

The 20th Reunion and My Facebook Addiction

My 20 year high school reunion was planned through Facebook.

I think the only computer class I took in high school was on a clunky IBM with a black screen and green characters, it hummed when it was thinking. This was before AOL had mail, when Amazon was only a river and Bill Gates was still nerdy. Now look at me, my computer is chained to my right hand; right by my i-phone and my mp3 player. The Internet is my social, artistic and informational network.

Facebook.

Because all Facebook don’t we? Of course we do (oh come on, admit it). We post pictures of our vacations, our children, our events. It is the ultimate, ultimate social network. When I got the invitation to my 20th, I started connecting with long, lost high school buddies; checking blog sites, seeing what everyone was up to, commenting on cute three-year old birthday photos.

As it got closer to our reunion, someone commented that maybe Facebook had replaced the need for reunions. Was this true? Did we no longer need to meet and exchange cute birthday photos if we had already done it on Facebook?

Interesting thought….I had connected with many people who I didn’t think I would ever see again. Suddenly I knew where they had vacationed in Europe, how many children they had and that on Thursday night, they were quite annoyed that the cat had thrown up on the Persian rug.

Does this qualify as a reunion?

My answer after this weekend is resoundingly…..NO….

It does help. Walking into room of people I hadn’t seen in a while, it was nice to know who just bought a house, who got married, who has a new girlfriend…..it takes the small talk out of the situation. It is a little strange however, to know so much about some one’s life who you actually haven’t seen in twenty years. It’s a level of knowing that maybe I haven’t earned because I haven’t actually seen them in a while.

And let’s face it, it is quite odd to meet your classmates new husband and already know that on Wednesday night they had quite the flatulence problem because their wife posted it on Facebook. Hmmmmm….let’s work up to that knowledge, perhaps over a beer or two.

So no, this network doesn’t replace conversation and interaction. We can blog, text, facebook, email and tweet…….it’s all good but it doesn’t mean quite as much until we meet…..

and it was good to meet again 🙂

Crazy Thoughts From the Middle of Nothern CO

So this post might be a little far reaching for some. I hesitated on posting it but these thoughts have been sticking with me through dinner and a thorough kitchen cleaning. It is time for me to purge…bear with me.

I walked a labyrinth today. I have never walked a labyrinth but I have to say, it’s quite a meditative, thoughtful event. My friend Quinn took our writer’s group through the process.

We waited at the entrance of the maze. Quinn gave us a meditation, something to ponder as we made our way through.

“Imagine you are entering the Universe of the Great Mother. You can envision her as the Great Goddess, Mother Earth, the Virgin Mary, the Buddha Tara, the Chinese Kwan Yin or any other feminine manifestation of Divine Energy.”

Got it. I rung the bell at the entrance and started my walk. As I walked, I thought of the Virgin Mary. This surprised me. I am usually a Mother Earth or Buddha type of girl but today, I thought of Mary.

Why Mary?
I thought. I looked around. The prairie landscape reminded me of my trip through the Ilhara Valley in Turkey. Historians say that Mary settled Ilhara after Jesus was crucified. Perhaps that’s why I’m relating to her, it’s the landscape. I continued to walk and thought about my trip to Turkey many, many years ago. Years before I was a mom, years before my life changed so profoundly.

Maybe it’s because her life changed profoundly too, maybe because she was told what her life was going to be, maybe because before she was Saint Mary, the Virgin Mary, one of the most significant female figures in civilization, she was a mother. I thought.

Oh.

Well.

That could be it. Today Mary might be easier to relate to than Kali, the Hindu goddess who is known to lie in a bed of snakes.

I don’t like snakes.

So I walked the rest of the labyrinth thinking of Mary. Thinking of her strength, compassion and her role as a mother. She became more relate able to me than in any church service, any Sunday school or Western religion class and I was really happy to have her join me.

Funny thing is that I’m not really the religious sort but I was filled with peace and acceptance during my walk. Amazing what (and who) you can find in the middle of Northern CO.