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"You raise me up..."

on June 13, 2010

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We had to raise the Exersaucer to the next highest setting to accommodate my sweet baby Boy's increasingly growing legs!

Sniffle...

You Raise Me Up- Josh Groban

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There have been thousand upon thousands of essays written about what it is like to be a parent. We write about our strong-willed children, our shy children, our wild children. Tales are told about what it is like to raise a child who is differently-abled, a child who is gifted, a child with amazing athletic ability. When we talk about raising our kids, parents usually say that they want to raise good, kind humans, but while we are all looking for the same finish line, we are all running a very different race.

From the moment I heard about PJ's Autism diagnosis, I assumed I would take on the Mama Bear role. Want to suggest he can't do something? Want to try and keep him from services he deserves? Want to exclude him? I would be fighting it with claws out and bear strength. And I won't lie- sometimes being a Bear is fucking hard. When PJ was first diagnosed, I had so much to learn about the hats I would wear. One example was learning that gathering him up in my arms when he …

Of which we do not speak...

A little over six months ago, I lost my father.

This is not going to be a post about that, because I am not there yet. In fact, I don't know where I am most of the time. My grief feels like something pretend, something that isn't real yet.
From moment to moment, I catch myself feeling normal. I am in the middle of making PJ breakfast or fighting traffic to get to work and the world feels as it should, which means my father is in it. But then, triggered by nothing more than one breath to the next, I remember.

When that happens, my grief turns to cement, literally weighed down inside of me. I can talk about how much PJ reminds me of my dad when he's doing his math homework. I could talk about how much he would have loved the Eagles Super Bowl win. I can talk about how much he loved science, even though in the end, science is what took him from us sooner than his cancer may have. I can say these things with light in my voice, with love in my thoughts.

The kicker is that I kn…

My LTYM Experience or How I Accidentally Ended Up On A Stage

The final chapter of my participation in the Listen To Your Mother Show ended with our live performances. I turned 39 on May 3rd and on May 7th, I was on a stage at the beautiful South Orange Performing Arts Center with 12 other souls (as well as our incredible producers, Sandy, Brooke and Deborah) that handily out-shined the beauty of the space. It all still feels as if it may have been a dream. A very gratifying, emotional dream.

It ended the same way it began, with my worrying about clothes. Before our first rehearsal, I was stressing out knowing that the next morning, I would be meeting a room full of strangers. Not only that, I would be taking a cast picture with these strangers and reading a story of the worst moments of my life. It seemed like too much to be vulnerable about my story and about my precarious self-esteem at the same time.

Despite all of that, I got into my car on a Saturday morning, armed with coffee and the soundtrack to "Hamilton." Clad in the pink a…

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