December 20th

Just in case anyone checks in to see how my girls are doing, here they are. This photo was taken on the morning of December 20th, 2011, shortly before Eliza's holiday concert at school. Our Christmas was fragmented but wonderful. As always, the good moments pass by far too quickly. I'm trying to savor as much of these two weeks away from work as I can. Happy 2012 to anyone out there who might read this or who has ever checked in on me and my wonderful, amazing, fabulous girls.

He Will Fill Us With Goodness and Light

I could summarize my life in the two months since I've written but I imagine that's dull. November is always a busy month. My birthday passes, I add another year to my body clock and this year I definitely look it. I'm much too focused on Eliza's birthday on the 21st to pay too much attention to my own.

This year, my grandmother decided to die on November 11th. She was 97. She passed peacefully exactly 8 months after her husband of 70-something years (we all stopped counting and I'm not good at math). She was in such bad shape at my grandfather's funeral it shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. But there she was, her head cocked at a weird angle in the open casket, her skin cold to the touch. That really did me in, how cold she was. My grandmother didn't like to be cold.

I started to cry and looked for a blanket to put on top of her. But I didn't, I figured everyone would look at me like I was a freak. Didn't I know she was dead? She's supposed to feel cold. Hey, be happy kid, she made it to 97. Most people don't make it that long.

I should have called her more. I should have taken Elena to see her more than one time. Elena's resemblance to my mother was confirmed by everyone who saw her at the funeral parlor. Friends from my mother's childhood followed Elena around like they were looking at some kind of ghost from yesteryear. When Elena was a baby, she wasn't quite the clone of my mother that she is now. We had hoped to get there when she was alive and in my own selfish imagination, I pictured my grandmother seeing Elena and briefly, so briefly, getting the opportunity to relive her youth. I thought she'd see Elena and in her demented, fragile state, think she was looking at my mother, all young and beautiful and full of promise, before being ravaged by all kinds of illnesses.

But she died before we got there. I went to O'Connor's Funeral Home and St. Stephen's Church for perhaps the last time. St. Stephen's where my grandparents and all three of their children were married. Where my Eliza was baptized so they could bear witness. Where my Uncle Mimi and so many other relatives were Eulogized. St. Stephen's is a huge, beautiful, historic church. It is in danger of being shut down, like the rest of the area that surrounds it. Once a bustling, lively section of Pittsburgh, Hazelwood is now a sea of broken down houses and boarded up shops. Even Dimperios, the Italian market, is finally closed.

After the funeral, I asked my Uncle to drive past my grandparents house and he did. I looked at the long steps leading to the front door, the big hill, the green awnings with the single white stripes on each end. I remembered my grandfather's garden in the backyard and the railroad apartment on the first floor we ran through as kids when it was rented out. The chime of the doorbell and the sound of going up the steps. I turned 40 the year my grandfather finally left that house. the last time I was there was in 2007, the year he turned 100. So much of my life was spent behind that heavy front door.

With the passing of my grandparents goes an entire world. They were the glue that held us all together. Now we are all spread out. At my grandmother's funeral, I read two short letters she'd written to me over the years. It was so special to bring her voice back to life. One of the letters recounted her joy at the birth of my cousin's son Dominic more than 10 years ago. It was truly a special moment to look out at my cousin that day and relive my grandmother's happiness over her newest and quite possibly favorite great grandchild. My cousin has a drinking problem now. If my mother new the details of her current situation, she'd be crushed. I don't even know if I'll see this cousin again.

Eliza broke down and started sobbing heavily during the funeral mass. I was overwhelmed, unsure of how to comfort her. I asked her why she was crying and she said "I miss great grandma." Eliza hardly knew my grandmother so I found this hard to believe. I think her breakdown may have come from exhaustion or from the fact that we were seated back far away from the cousins she longed to play with. But I held her and shushed her and stopped crying myself because I have a job still and that's to take care of my kids. But maybe the whole spectre of death, the finality of that body in the casket, really got to her. Watching her and my mother, so tired and sick from chemo, interact in the hotel between funeral home visits, I can see my own daughter's fear of her grandmother's passing. On the day before the funeral, my mother spread out the comics on the bed of the hotel room and told Eliza how she used to lay the comics out on the floor at her own grandmother's house and listen to a radio program.

For Eliza's birthday, my mother wrapped her gift in comic newspaper pages. Eliza was delighted. Grandmother's are so important.

My mother is superstitious and says things always happen in threes. I barked at her when she said this but there it is, my grandfather and grandmother within the same year and my mother with pancreatic cancer. Who knows who's next but I do know this, it seems to have taken on some kind of domino effect lately. Death is a part of life blah, blah. That doesn't mean I have to like it.

Looking ahead to Christmas, I had cards made with photos of the girls for the first time. I chose five happy photos of them on the beach, picking apples, and climbing cherry trees. I quoted the Christmas Carol "Do you hear what I hear" on the card, this part:

Said the king to the people everywhere,

Listen to what I say.

Pray for peace, people everywhere.

Listen to what I say!

The child, the child, sleeping in the night

he will bring us goodness and light,

he will bring us goodness and light.

I would like to think my grandmother would be happy about my sending cards, about being polite and keeping in touch with relatives she and I share. I wish she was still alive to see the card, to see my kids. I wish I'd had kids younger so she could have been healthier and enjoyed them more.

But mostly I just hope to move forward and love who I love now and enjoy each day the best I can because life unfortunately, is fleeting.

Depressed

Life is tough for many people. I am lucky to have work, to have two beautiful, healthy daughters. My babysitter cares for them and the girls are happy. I have the freedom to earn money and not worry too much about my girls. I work with great people and I can't complain about the salary.

I tell myself over and over again to be happy, to love my life. Life goes by so quickly, we must savor it and not get too worked up over the little things.

But the thing is, I never made it to the cheerleading squad. Perhaps if I had, I'd be perkier, more resilient less to feel like I'm being hammered.

My job is tough. Every day is at 10-13 hours. I report to work every day at 6:30am and only have a half hour break for lunch. We rehearse, we shoot, I do a fair amount of time consuming paperwork, I have a fair amount of questions aimed towards me and then we finish and I go home. I often don't drink as much water as I should because going to the bathroom can be a challenge when we rehearse and shoot as much and as fast as we do. There are moments of down time but not much. This is a six day work week. Last week, we ended with night shoots so we finished work at 7am on Saturday, only to report to work at 6:30am on Sunday. Over the "weekend" I volunteered at Eliza's school fundraiser, went to the grocery store, did laundry, looked over Eliza's school papers, planned the week's menu for the girls, and discussed this job with the woman who is covering me for one day.

In the meantime, my mother is going through chemo. She drives herself to and from her appointments because she has no one willing or available to drive her. She needs to return to the doctor tomorrow for some kind of shot (her platelets are down) but she's too weak to drive herself and has no one to drive her. I offered to pay for a cab (what's the point of working, right?) but she refused, saying she's in pain and might yell and doesn't want to do that in front of a stranger. Oh sure, there are some volunteer services who offer rides out there but you have to give them at least a week's notice and they kind of come on their own timetable which I'll admit is understandable considering they're volunteering their time for free.

My mother is a wonderful person and she has to fight this battle largely on her own. People have jobs, they have families, they live far away. It's not that she has no one who cares for her, it's just that there's no one available right now. Life in today's world is exceptionally hard for people without immediate family nearby, a spouse, a neighborhood support system. I look at her life and I see what mine will look like, if I'm fortunate to live as long as she has. I don't mean to make her cancer all about me but I can't help but go there. My mother's brother died from pancreatic cancer and now she has it. My mother has had cancer three times. Ask the doctors, they'll start spouting my statistics, how I'm kind of likely to get it.

I'll be going to my appointments alone because I have no one. Sure, I have friends and people who care about me but I can't even find some one to have dinner with let alone ask for help if I really need it. All my friends know what's going on in my life right now--has anyone offered to take me out and cheer me up? Babysit my kids for a few hours? Check in on my mom or even send a freakin card?

I don't want to turn this into some kind of pity party but those are the facts. I see people all the time, most of my friends in fact, married with spouses who might not be the greatest but who are THERE. With siblings they might not like all the time but who show up for Thanksgiving dinner.

I love my daughters and I'm so grateful to have them but why couldn't their father have cared about me enough to be a partner. I remember saying to him once that he had this moment to be a man and decide what he wanted and he did. He decided he wanted me. Why couldn't he decide to stay with me instead of disintegrating into the jerk he's become. The guy I met was a better guy than that. It may of been brief but it was there.

But anyway, I digress. It's late and I have to be up at 5:30am. I'm tired and there's still three more days left in this week. Snow is in the forecast already and it looks like winter will be starting to bear down. And when the snow falls and my car is buried under several feet of snow who will help me out?

that's right, there's no one.

I Miss My Babies

Eliza's learning to read. She's been "reading" short words and phrases for close to a year but now she's really reading entire sentences and getting it. She's reading short stories for kids and finding them fun or interesting. At night, she often has assignments to read short two page stories with her parents. Unlike every other kid in her class, Eliza reads these short stories to the babysitter. Tonight she read a little to me over the phone and it was great, I loved it, I loved how happy she sounded. And then I cried about how much I'm missing.

I'm on a good job. I get to work with good people. I get paid a decent salary. The hours are long, the work is tough but most days I have a lot of fun. But I leave before my girls are awake and I get home after they've gone to bed. Last week I got to see the girls during the day because we had three consecutive night shoots. On Saturday, we finished work shortly before 7am, I raced home, had a decent morning with the girls and then volunteered for a few hours at Eliza's school fundraiser. I came home and spend a nice afternoon and evening with the girls and went to bed early to get myself back on a day schedule. As exhausting as it all was, at least I got to see my girls.

I'm not feeling so well this week and the babysitter is younger and healthier. The girls seem happy with her and I find that it's easier for me to be at work sick then at home with the girls. But I miss them, I miss them, I miss them. They also have us working Saturday this week so I won't really see or spend any quality time with my girls for six full days. This is the longest I've gone without seeing them awake. It's only Tuesday and the week in front of me feels endless.

I miss my girls, I miss my girls, I miss my girls. Elena is exploding with language--all kinds of fun stuff coming out of her mouth and I can't remember any of it. I can't record much more than her favorite phrase "I can't like this" whenever I try to get her to eat something healthy. It's so cute and when I tried to remember it and quote it to the babysitter, she filled in the blank words I couldn't remember. At this point in time, my sitter of 6 weeks knows my kids better than I do. She gets to hear how well Eliza reads, work on her spelling words with her and tuck them into bed every night.

I miss my girls, I miss my girls, I miss my girls. I tell myself this is temporary. This show will stop shooting in March and if I make it that far I won't have to work for a long time. I get to work with good people! I get to have some fun! My job ends! What about the poor moms who have to work every day and hate their jobs? I'm so much better off than they are, right, my life is wonderful!

I see the big picture and I know it's a good one. But right now, all I have is the week in front of me, pages of a script beside my and little girls in bed, the sound of the sleeping breath all I get to hear.

My Mama

Pancreatic cancer is the number one cancer killer. It's not number one based on how many people die from it (more people are diagnosed with colon cancer) it's just number one in the sense that if you get it, it kills you.

With the recent death of Steve Jobs, pancreatic cancer is all over the news. The statistics are grim. Most people diagnosed with it die within 12 months of diagnosis, by the time you have symptoms it's too late, blah blah, blah blah. I keep remember the title of a James Morrison biography I read in 8th grade, "No One Here Gets Out Alive." It could be the sing outside the door at a pancreatic cancer clinic.

Having said that, I'm in complete denial when it comes to the idea that pancreatic cancer is the number one cancer killer and that my mother has it. She says she feels better than she has in years. I believe it, end of story. She's going out more, she's happier, she's enjoying life a little more. She's still pretty tired and doesn't do much. But she's doing some things like going to the Walk Far for Autism Research yesterday.

She told me yesterday that she feels great, that the cancer was in there making her sick and now it's gone. Call it denial, call it a coping mechanism, call it whatever you like. Mom feels better and for now we are going with it. Now that she realizes her days may be numbered, she's actually letting me photograph her. So here's one of her with my two girls from the walk yesterday. Notice the way my older girl is draped across her because man oh man, does that kid love my mom. And then notice the similar facial features between my mom and the little one.

Let this photo just be one of many.

Working Hard

I'm not quite halfway through week three at work. As far as jobs go, this is a good one. It's exhausting. I'm still recovering from the early wake up Monday for the long commute in. My full-time sitter started yesterday and so far the first two days seem to be okay. She's very young (23) and that worries me. Though she seems pretty smart and has a lot of experience with kids, I'm not sure she knew what she was in for when she signed up for this gig. Week after week, this is going to be tough for her.

The first two weeks the girls were cared for by C and his mother. Everyone enjoyed their time together and I felt comfortable knowing the girls were with people who love them.

I'd like to take this job the distance but it all depends on the girls, my mother's health and how well the babysitter cares for the girls. I should pass the requirement for my health insurance this week, and start to earn towards my next quarter next week.

I miss the girls terrible, especially at night. The weekends are tough too with far too many errands and not enough fun time. With C coming on Sundays, I really feel like I don't have enough time to catch up with my wonderful girls. I am also worried about Eliza in her new school but that is a subject for another day entirely.

I have to get up pretty early so I'm going to sign off for now. Wish me luck in the upcoming months.

Farewell Beloved Summer

Three, four years ago, maybe, another labor day weekend at the Jersey Shore. C and I were still together but I came to Jersey to visit my mother alone. That last Sunday night of summer, before I had to pack up to return to New York and I loaded Eliza into the car around dusk, driving south just looking for the perfect playground, the perfect place to say good-bye to this wonderful summer.

But I never found it. I did find an odd playground with a spaceship like structure. It was practically dark by then but that didn't stop me from getting her out of the car, from dragging her through the playground to dig out one last memory of my favorite season that always goes by too fast.

Oh the heat gets to me and the summer tourist crowds. The mosquito bites, the sand in the diapers, the sunscreen that seems to go on like Elmer's glue: oh it all gets to me. Summer is far from perfect. But there's nothing better like the sheer joy of just slipping a pair of sandals onto your child's feet. There's no pesky sox to match, no jackets to wrestle on. the days are long and the nights cool and fragrant.

Like every summer, I've wrestled to enjoy every last drop. Going outside to chase fireflies, evening walks to the beach, tea parties on the back porch, pitchers of ice tea and visits to every ice cream shop: I've done it all. There are a few things we didn't get to; another trip to Six Flags, Storybook Land, the water park in Colts Neck. But this week I did manage to cross "picnic" and "outdoor movie" off my list.

This summer's end is particularly bittersweet. I'm going back to work full-time. Tonight I tucked my girls in for the last time this week. Tomorrow, I'll take them to my father's while I head up to New York for the night. We won't be finished until after the girls are in bed and we'll start long before they wake up. It's likely that I won't see them awake until Saturday. The weekend will fly by and then Monday starts the cycle all over again. I tell myself this is what I have to do in order to pay the rent and have health insurance. I'm lucky in this economy to have work that pays well enough and allows me the beauty of a summer at home with my daughters. I like the people I work with and often times we have a lot of fun. It will be good to be around adults, to leave work at the end of the day.

But still, I feel like the air is being sucked out of me, like the world is ending with this summer. Hi ho, hi ho, I hope I can do this.

So many moments, so much to love

My kids amaze and astonish me everyday. Of course that's not to say life's perfect--they can also drive me crazy but for the most part, I can't believe how much fun they are.

We did an overnight trip to NY to stay in our old apartment while their father is away. We do this from time to time and while it's great to have a free place in NY, it's hard to stay in a place that I once lived that's not mine anymore. Eliza feels the sadness too, really missing her father when we're there like any minute he might come home and we'll all be together. I'm glad that he's okay with us using the place as a hotel and his new girlfriend doesn't object to our presence.

At night, long after they should have been in bed, I chased them through the apartment, something we never do at home. I love chasing children around so it's odd to think that we don't do this and our apartment with it's variety of rooms that have more than one entrance is a perfect place for this sort of behavior. But I guess we switched into vacation mode and something about being in a home that wasn't our own freed us from the same old boring routine.

The following day was a marathon--after breakfast in a local diner where I was sure I'd have a nervous breakdown if our food didn't come now, right now, Eliza walked 20 blocks (with Elena in the stroller) to Times Square. While Elena napped in the stroller, Eliza and I ducked into a crowded deli for a smoothie. It was quite a challenge to navigate with all the people, rushing to pay for their lunches but we made it. Then it was on to the Times Square Toys R Us for a ride on the ferris wheel. Although I swore I'd buy no toys, absolutely nothing, we left with a barbie for each kid. Founding ourselves in the middle of seemingly wall to wall bodies on 44th Street, I managed to push us through to the Snack Shack on Eighth Avenue. I later found out that the mass of bodies on 44th was because the MTV building was evacuated following an earthquake we did not feel.

Back to the snack shack and us in a very narrow, twisty line to order the world's best fast food. This is definitely not the place for a single mother with a stroller but I wanted that fast food and I was gonna have it. With no tables available, I managed to get the girls to a large counter section and situate them on stools far too high for safety's sake. It was a tough lunch and the place only got more crowded but we made it and dammit, that fast food was worth.

Then onto my main attraction, the Discovery Channel's Pompei exhibit. This exhibit is so pricey, I really debated the merits of taking two small children. But oh it was so worth it. We had an absolutely splendid time and Eliza seemed to enjoy the history of it all. The exhibit also included a time lapse film that portrayed the volcano a bit too realistically. Perhaps that was too much for my girl but I carried her through and she enjoyed the artifacts from the ancient city. Elena kept bouncing around saying "POMPei POMPei," completely delighting even the most scowling, curmudgeonly adult. While people gathered around another short film showing footage of Vesuvius erupting in the 1940s, Elena started to perform her "Party in the USA" dance sure that all those people standing there were in fact her devotees. We capped off the exhibit with a visit to the Cake Boss bakery downstairs, probably the highlight of the girl's day. As they sat there with there goodies and I sat there amazed at how well the day had gone I realized I'd never wanted an conventional life.

As a child, the idea of a house, a picket fence, none of it ever appealed to me. I wanted to travel, to have some freedom, to see things and dive into new worlds. As a single mother, I long for that partner, that person to help me navigate with in these new worlds. And hey it would be great if I had that but it's not so bad having the life that I have now. I only pray that my body holds up, that I stay healthy and strong and that work continues to come in like it is now, just when I need it, to keep up this unconventional but really, a very great life.

Today is my mother's 73rd birthday. We spent the day with her and she's so weak, so tired but she did okay. She ate two helpings of the lasagna I made and didn't have any nasty afferaffects. She actually told me that after her second helping she felt much better than she had all day. Oh wouldn't it be great if my homemade lasagna could do that, could cure my mother of the cancer that is so deadly. My girls both sang happy birthday to her and gave her lots of birthday hugs. It wasn't dinner at the Taj Mahal but still, it was a pretty good day.

Capped off by the beautiful card Eliza made for my mother, all by herself with no help or prompting from me. She drew rainbows on the front and on the inside and wrote "I love you into the sky. You are the best." I did not tell her what to write. I don't know if my mom was that impressed but I sure as hell was. Eliza also picked out a yellow sunshiney card from the store that plays "You are my sunshine" when you open it. I could sing the same thing about both my girls and my mother too.

Summer lovin'

It's not all doom and gloom here this summer. Aside from our Disney trip, we've also managed to make it to the beach/pool many times and gather with friends on a regular basis. Lately, it's been so hot in my apartment we've been going to the beach in the evenings to cool off before bedtime. I leave a large soup pot on the back porch to rinse off the sand when we get home. It's sooooo hard to get the girls in the bathtub but boy do they fight for the opportunity to plant their naked butts in a soup pot filled with cold water! We can walk to the beach from our place which is wonderful. Now that we've started doing our "evening dips," I wonder why I waited until August to add this to our summer routine. There's still so many things I want to do before the summer ends but I know there won't be time. Oh how I love the long days and beach evenings with my wonderful girls!

Tubulence

I accepted a job this week that I should be happy about but I'm not. It's a new TV show on which the network has extremely high hopes. The show runner is a well respected playwright (this is why I could not say no) and we seemed to hit it off. I have a month to secure babysitting and get things underway. In some ways, I'm happy. I love the people that I work with and spending time immersed in something new, something that might actually be good might be just what I need.

But of course I'm terrified. We work really long hours. Who is really qualified to take care of my kids, basically be their full-time caregiver for weeks and weeks leading into months? I'm trying to assemble a team of babysitters, a paid for "village" so to speak but it's not like I only work 20 minutes away. To be honest, this is one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did with C. Without that full-time live-in partner, I always viewed long-term work as an impossibility.

So now I'm going to try to make it a possibility. My mother has cancer and Eliza is starting first grade at yet another new school so to say the timing is bad is an understatement. I want to do this job and make this connection with the playwright but that won't go well if my head is very divided. I basically demanded that C work some weeks from home, thus supervising our daughters with the help of daytime babysitters. He said this "wasn't realistic" but didn't say no either. He's enlisted for the first week anyway, the week that Eliza starts school.

And then after that, we're on our own. Oh how I long for a sibling or some one to share these children with. Not just for me but for them.

And here's more pictures from our disney trip. For some reason the prior posting didn't print them all. I put these pictures up to remind myself of what I'm working for.

Family Pictures, Part Deux

One of my most loyal readers posted a comment today that just made my world. My mother has pancreatic cancer and I recently posted about my complete lack of photos of my mother and me during my childhood. I only have one photo of myself with my Mom from my childhood and this makes me so, so sad.

I haven't posted any photos from our Disney trip but here's a few, including one of me with the girls. I want them to have photos of us together, so they can see all the great things we did do together. We found out about my Mom's cancer shortly before the trip and we nearly didn't go. But my mom urged me to go and my father said that he seriously regretted never taking us to Disney.

So not only did I just make my first trip to Disney, I accomplished something my parents never did for me. And I did it all on my own.

Family Pictures

My mother has always hated how she looks so there are very few existing photos of her. I have a polaroid of the four of us, her, my father, my brother and me taken at my grandparents house in the early 1970s. As far as I know, this is the only photo from my childhood with her and myself in it.

She agreed to be photographed with me at my cousin Bettina's wedding in 1998 and again at Eliza's Christening in 2006. I'm not sure where I put the photo from Bettina's wedding but I had it in a frame on top of my dresser for a long time.

I took my mother, the girls and myself out on a boat to watch the fourth of July fireworks. I didn't bring my camera but the boat staff took polaroids of all the guests. The tiny polaroids were then placed in plastic key chains I purchased for $7.00. The keychain is already broken and now the tiny photo is lodged in my wallet where it's sure to get lost.

The stupid thing is, my mother was quite good-looking. She always had a bit of a weight problem but as the handful of photos I've seen of her taken in the 1970s reveal, she was not half as big as she thought she was. There are no photos of her from the 1980s that I know of. Although I was photographed with my friends and with both grandparents at my high school graduation, there aren't any photos of me from that day with either parent.

While we attended my daughter's end of the school year picnic, I tried to take a photo of one of Eliza's classmates with her mother. The mother quickly moved before I could snap the photo and suggested I take a photo of her daughter with another friend. At the time my mother was in the hospital and I suspected or feared bad news and I nearly yelled at the mother, telling her that someday her daughter would treasure these photos.

The new on my mother's health is bad. My cousin was here throughout the 12 hour surgery and to distract and keep me standing for the past few days but now she's gone and I'm alone with my girls while my mother recovers from her marathon surgery in the hospital. She doesn't yet know how bad it is and I don't know when her prognosis will be laid out for her. She will not handle it well, just as I have not.

I've been offered a great job with great people that will dig me out of a financial hole and continue my much needed insurance coverage. But it will require me to be gone from my mother and the girls for too long so I don't think I can do it. I'm not sure if a shorter term job will come along and I might lose my benefits and commit financial suicide on top of losing my mother. But I don't see how I can leave my mother and the kids right now and work 60-70 hour work weeks two hours away when these might be the last few months of her life. Part of me wants to take it for me--I'll be immersed in work, surrounded by my work friends, earning a living and valuable.

But it's just a job and this is the life of my family and life is so much more important to me. So I'm holding out hope that a job that's a better fit will come along and that I won't end up on the street because I'm choosing now to be where I'm truly needed.

Being a mum

My mother, like any good mother, has made her fair share of mistakes in mothering me. But as parents we all try our best and sometimes, the mistakes she made came from loving me too much. And that's not a bad thing. My mother is far from perfect, my mother is not a candidate for Sainthood but my mom loves my brother, me and my daughters in a way few people are fortunate enough to experience.

And now she has cancer again and we don't even know if it's operable. I'm trying to be a cheerleader but I'm scared shitless. I have no idea how I'm supposed to live my life without her. No one loves me and loves my children as much as she does. My mother dragged her unhealthy, cancer laden body out of bed day in and day out to get my kids ready for school when I last worked some time ago. C can't get out of bed and care for his own children if he has a cold. The adrenaline that's necessary to care for young children comes from love. My mother's body is failing her but that love has kept her here, probably past her body's expiration date, because she knows my brother and I still need her. My grandfather always used to say that he lived as long as he did (104) because us kids still needed him.

And now I still need my mom but my needing her doesn't magically stop what's going on inside her body. I've been trying to stay positive and hope for the best but as the days pass and the wait for any glimmer of good news continues, I am collapsing. I have no one, no one to help with the kids except my mother's next door neighbor (thank G-d for her) but she's got her hands pretty full at the moment with her family issues. Now that Eliza's home from school, she craves constant activity and stimulation. I just don't have it in me to not only be the caregiver but playmate of a five-year-old.

Remember the good old days, when we had neighbors, when kids went out in the street and played with other kids? What happened to that? I moved to a little town where everyone kind of knows everyone and still feel completely isolated. Getting Eliza together with other similar age children requires a lot of texting, phone calls and leg work on my part. Eliza is a wonderful child and makes friends easily. She's not the problem--it's this new playdate, mom chaperoned safe vacuum world we've created that makes parenting today so hard. The fact of the matter is most moms are more inclined to make playdates with the children of their friends. So because I'm new here and I'm kind of shy and don't have any siblings or lifelong friends nearby with kids, I've become my daughter's current BFF. And I'm not being a very good one for the moment.

As a child, my mother was not my BFF but my mother. She cared for me, tried to guide me and did everything she could to make me love myself. She took me on special trips to parks and planned special outings for us but she was also just as inclined to let me watch TV for hours or send me off down the street to a friends without double-checking every five minutes that I'd arrived safely and was now having my healthy snack. She gave me the freedom to grow up, to learn how to function in this world on my own, to find and create my own sources of amusement when there was no one else there.

So now, why do I feel so completely incapable of functioning without her?

Quantity time

A director I worked with once told me that when it comes to parenting, a parent should aim for quantity time, not quality time. He said quality time is something that's not planned it just happens. So if you spend as much time as you can with your kids, the real quality moments will happen when you least expect it. He spoke of elaborate family trips to parks, vacations, when the kids were often happiest just playing in the backyard.

I had to have routine blood work done today and with no babysitters, had to drag the girls. Two other men waited in the waiting room when we arrived with a third right behind us. I signed in and planned to keep Elena in the stroller because I didn't want her running around the waiting room. Elena struggled to get out. Eliza leaned in and kissed her.

"Mom, she really, really wants to come out," Eliza said, just in case I didn't notice that Elena was straining to get out of her three point harness. "Please, mom, can't we please take her out?"

I refused at first, but seeing that it might take a while, I decided to free her. Elena was elated, practically jumping out of the stroller. Once her feet were on the ground, Elena put her little hands on her hips and started doing her little knee bends.

"You're a dancer," a man seated across from us said.

"I'm a real dancer," Eliza said, rising into a releve. "I'm going to take hip hop this summer."

"Hip hop!" Elena echoed.

"You're not taking hip hop, I am," Eliza said, arabesquing. "She's too little to take dance class."

"You're a good dancer," the man said. "I have a niece who dances too."

Eliza and Elena joined hands and started dancing together. And then Elena started jumping. Two feet on and off the ground, real jumps.

"She's really jumping!" Eliza said, excited. "Before she couldn't do a real jump."

Elena giggled with glee. I watched her jump and realized Eliza may have been right. This may have been the first time Elena did real jumps. How did my daughter see things that I didn't even notice? How could a five-year-old be this observant, this proud?

"She's so cute!" Eliza said, cuddling her up. "You can jump now! Look at my baby!"

"That's a really good big sister," some man said as his name was called, just in case I wasn't aware of this. Believe me, I might be walking around in a fog half the time, but I know Eliza really is an extraordinary child.

This morning I told her I was very worried about Grandma, that we had a lot of not fun things to do and that I'd need her to be understanding and cooperative. And she was. She took Elena into the playroom and let me exercise. She let me make phone calls. She made the most of our time at the lab, a few other errands and then our trek to the hospital to pick mom up.

At the end of the day, Eliza thanked me for a wonderful day. She said her favorite part was when I went to give blood. It may have been the highlight of my day too. Now that school's out and beyond the Disney trip we don't have too many summertime plans, we will have plenty of quantity/quality time.

I don't really know how much time I have with my mother. In truth, none of us knows how much time we have with anyone. Elena is so attached to my mother, I want so much for my mom to be here long enough for Elena to remember her. There's no way of knowing how advanced my mother's cancer is until they do the surgery and if the surgery doesn't work, that's it. There's no other treatment. I think so much of why I'm so happy to be with my mother and my girls together is because my mother really loves me. C stopped loving me shortly after Eliza was born (I became competition) so the entire time I was with him, I never knew what it was like to just be a family without bitterly being viewed as a rival. With my mom, I get to feel like a real family.

My mother is a great person and now her eldest granddaughter is a great child. Everything that is great about my mother and her family, is in my daughter. I am so happy and so proud to be the primary caregiver of this child.

not much

So my mother has cancer again but supposedly it's treatable. She has to have surgery and I don't think they'll know until they do the surgery how bad it is. So I'm not sure how treatable it is. It's better than what I thought when she went into the hospital. But it's still cancer, it still sucks.

And we're supposed to leave for Disney in six days. I don't want to go but don't see how I could deny Eliza her stupid fucking Disney trip.

Not really much else to say.

The Waiting Game

So my sick mother had a CT scan a few days ago to determine the cause of her liver inflammation. The scan revealed a blockage in one kidney but not much else so an MRI and other tests have been ordered. Next week, she'll go into the hospital to try to get most of the tests done in a timely fashion.

I'm a bit of the agnostic type but as I knew some results were coming in yesterday afternoon, after I dropped off Eliza at school, I swung back around to a local church and took Elena inside. I expected an empty church and some quiet time to light a few candles and say my own prayers. Instead I walked in on a mass already in progress. I decided to stay through the mass which was mercifully brief because to say Elena is not well versed on church etiquette is putting it mildly.

I sat in the last pew so I could made a quick exit if necessary. Right behind me was a pedestal containing a basin of holy water. Elena apparently mistook the pedestal as a water fountain and when I let her disappear for a moment behind me, I was shocked to find that she'd somehow managed to climb the pedestal and was slurping holy water. Horrified (and yes, I'll admit it, entertained), I wrestled Elena away from the holy water. She exhibited her displeasure by screaming at full volume for about two minutes. The Priest continued to speak, a few heads turned, the elderly couple closest to me scowled but finally the screaming fit was replaced by Elena's enthusiastic imitation of my shushing, followed by her slapping at my legs, saying, "stop that shh, no shh." Hoping for quiet, I let her toddle to the pew in front of me and ignored her as she lay down and say, loud enough for people in the next county I'm sure, "Nappy nap!" I'm sure you can imagine the fun she had with the kneeler at the bottom of the pew. Finding a "fan" at the end of that pew, ie an elderly man who was charmed by her noisy antics and waved, Elena responded by running over to him and promptly hiking her dress high over her head to show off her tummy and bloomers. The man looked away, I imagine not sure of what to make of this mass-attending strip-tease.

But the mass ended swiftly, I had my quiet moments to say, well beg, what I needed to say. Later that day, I brought both girls to see my mother. They fell asleep in the car so I left them in there while I asked her what the results were. Finding that everything was still up in the air but that my mother seemed a bit stronger, I woke the girls one at a time and led them into the house. We had a lovely evening. Elena ran into the house saying "Gandma! Gandma!" She jumped into my mother's arms and all the weakness seemed to leave my mother. Eliza ran up to my mother's chair and draped herself across my mother's lap. I didn't know that Eliza had been worried but I saw it in that moment, saw the relief in her eyes as she nestled against my mom. We ordered a pizza and my mom managed to eat two slices. Then we headed out to Rita's for an ice, my mother's first non-medical outing in a month. My mother surprised me by getting out of the car to eat the ice at the table. Eliza was cold and headed back into the car, waving to us from the open window. Elena waved back, calling "Hi Sissy! Hi 'Yiza" when Eliza disappeared inside the car. Eliza poked her head out the girls seemed to have their own moment.

So we wait but for now, after that wonderful night, I have more hope than I had a few nights ago. I'm so lucky to still have my mom after all the health issues she's had and I try to cherish each good time as much as I can because I know, there's no guarantees here. I know that life is a finite thing, that death is something none of us escape. But that doesn't mean I'm in any way prepared to lose my mom.

So for now, we had last night. I hold onto that, the image of her seated at the table with me and Elena, happily eating her mango ice, while Eliza waved to us from the car.

Recital Day

Eliza's second recital was a wonder to behold. I think it's more of a special occasion to me than it is to my daughter at this point. It's certainly one of the highlights of the year. This year's recital was marred by my mother's absence. My mom is very sick and knowing she was too weak to attend her granddaughter's recital made the event very bittersweet. I tried to put on a game face for Eliza but all day I felt like crying. I know how much my mother wanted to see her in her costume, up on stage. I'm so worried about my mother right now but that's a whole other issue.

Eliza looked so beautiful in her costume. She was definitely much more into the experience of performing this year. She loves all of it, getting her hair "bunned," the makeup and then stepping into her gorgeous costume.

I thought I'd be depressed but once the lights came up on my girl, I felt nothing but joy and pride. There she was front and center, displaying a real grace and quality of movement. Not only did she know most of both dances, she smiled for much of them. The nerves and joylessness of the first year were gone and she seemed genuinely happy to be there.

As always, these days seem long when the recital drags on forever and my poor girl is tired, but then it's all over and that's it. I spent the entire afternoon with these girls today and now I probably won't see most of them again next year. So often in life, just when you're getting to know some one or something, it disappears.

But still, what a wonderful day. I happily look forward to next year.

Just me

My mother has been sick for so long, to hear her say she's not feeling well has become background noise. She's had lyme disease, two rounds of cancer (stage one), heart disease and a brain tumor that kicked into high gear when I was very pregnant with kid#2. That brain tumor was excised, determined benign and seen as "highly curable."

That brain tumor prompted me to act. I moved out of a bad relationship, rented an apartment I had no idea how I'd pay for to be closer to her, and set out to raise two small children, then aged 3 and two months, on my own.

Except I wasn't on my own, I had my mother. She wasn't quite herself, I don't think too many people are after a craniotomy. But she managed to take care of my kids when I commuted into the city to work. Gradually the work increased and with the help of my father and my mother's invaluable next door neighbor Karinna, my girls were in good hands.

I worried about my mother's health, that taking care of my kids was risky, I was two hours away, what would happen if she dropped dead while taking care of my kids. But one job bled into another and she managed to make it through and everything seemed to be okay. When a job I thought might bring me back to NY didn't materialize, I was relieved. I was happy with our current status quo.

Except now my mother's sick again, the cause at this time still undetermined and I've never seen her this weak, this exhausted, this done with living. April started out just fine, with her taking care of my kids while I worked a pretty demanding job. By the end of April, she was almost incapacitated. She hasn't driven in over a month now and hasn't left her house except to see the doctor twice. She is jaundiced, exhausted, resigned. I could be wrong but I think my mother is dying. I know, we're all dying and who's to say that this is her time. Except just like that, she's lost her independence and I'm not sure that little thing is coming back.

There are so many other issues at play here--how do I get her out of the house without stepping over her and declaring her imcompetent, how can I afford an attorney to advise me on what's best for her, how the hell do I get seven years of bank paperwork in order for medicaid when my mother is a hoarder and extremely disorganized to boot? But beyond all the business end of things, I am watching my mother fade out right in front of my eyes and other than shuttling her to doctors and picking up her groceries, I am powerless.

People have said all along, how have I handled taking care of these two little girls on my own and the answer is so clear--I haven't been on my own. With my mother I've been less alone than I ever was with my daughter's father. Even post-brain tumor, she's been there for me. Because she's the only one besides my father who's looked out for me. While C might be there for our daughters, while he's a decent provider and he loves them, he has never, ever been there for me. My brother is autistic, my father's involvement is sporadic.

And now I look at the future with my girls and I see just me. I don't know how I'm supposed to do this.

My girls

I feel like no one's reading this anymore so I've stopped writing. But I suppose that's writing about my delicious girls for the wrong reasons. Yes, I am a writer who craves an audience. But if I don't write about them then everything just goes away. I'm amazed at how little I remember with Eliza. If I hadn't written down certain days and certain discoveries, I'd have no recall of them at all.

Elena turned two almost a month ago. She is so much fun right now. I love this age even though she's much more high spirited and easily frustrated then her sister was at two. She is communicating up a storm. She wants to do everything her sister does and is very screams when she can't. She doesn't like it when we drop off Eliza at school and she's stuck with me. I've been letting her run into Eliza's classroom this past week and this morning, while the older kids clustered around the incubator with the newly hatched baby chicks, Elena raced over to the fish tank, then sat the in the reading chair like Queen Elizabeth on the throne. When I came to retrieve her, she held up her hands and said, "No, come back!" She wanted me to leave her there and come back.

Elena loves to sing and dance. Her dance moves now mostly consist of her running in circles, spinning in circles or doing these little knee bends with her hands on her hips. Yesterday she was so engrossed in her dance moves, she really didn't want to leave when it was time to take Eliza to school. I had to forcibly carry her to the car while she screamed. Once we got to the car, she resumed her little knee bends and hands on hip action. I don't know what song she was dancing to in her head but she really didn't want to get into the car.

At a school meeting on Friday that I had to attend with Elena, she kept running for the closed door saying "I want to go home." She also likes to say "I can do it" with if a smile if she can do it and screaming angrily if she can't do something. "I get out," she says when I meet her at the crib or she wants out of the high chair. "I get down," she says when she wants help getting off Eliza's bed. It's so cute to see her hanging off Eliza's bed on her stomach, her little feet dangling to the floor. It's not a far distance but she won't get off Eliza's bed without help. She is cautious.

She is wonderful, even more independent than Eliza. She is happy to entertain herself and needs little beyond food, drink and diaper changes from me. She loves the bath, wandering around the playground, strawberries, pressing buttons on the phone and board books. She loves her little body and is increasingly proud of all the new things she can do. She repeats a lot of what we say and imitates Eliza to a hilarious degree.

She worships her sister. When it's time to pick up Eliza as school, she says "Yay, Eliza!" and runs to the door to get in the car. When Eliza comes running out of her classroom, the two girls hug. Then Eliza takes off to run outside with her classmates and Elena screams and sobs behind her. "Yiza!" she wails. "Wait!" She screams when other students take Eliza's hand. As the little sister, Elena wants to be the sole owner of those perfect little Eliza hands. Eliza and Elena will walk up and down the sidewalk together. Then Eliza will want to play with her friends and she'll extract herself from her sister. Elena will reach rather pitifully after her, screaming with abandon. Poor Eliza feels guilty about it but I tell her to go ahead and have fun.

We are having so much fun now. We are such a cool little family. The other night, the two girls were entertaining each other in the bedroom and I realized, it's only a matter of time before they barely notice my presence. As proud as I am of their relationship, this saddens me. My days as the be all to end all in their eyes has already passed. I hope to get a life beyond them, sometime soon.

But for now, they are delicious, they are my little loves, my wonderful girls. I am looking forward to a fun summer.

Four Fridays

Wow, it's been almost two months since I've blogged. I blog mainly to go back and remember great times with my girls. If I don't write stuff down, it goes away. One day bleeds into the next and before I know it, my girls will be in double digits and I'll have little memory of the day to day stuff of their younger years.

So what can I say of them now? Not very much, I'm afraid. I've been working on an exhausting job for the past three weeks so I've seen very little of the girls. We shoot all night long on Friday nights (tonight is a Friday and it's no exception) so I see the girls for most of the day Saturday and all day Sunday. On Monday, I return to work before the wake up and get home long after they're asleep. Fortunately for me (and I'd like to think for them), I'm a freelancer and this job will end the morning of April 13th. During my all too brief phone call with Eliza last night, she asked if I'd be at her spring concert next Friday and I gleefully announced I would be.

So three weeks, is not all that much to miss out of my girls life. Except today it really feels like it is. With four more very long days still laid out in front of me, this time away feels incredibly long.

On March 11th, my grandfather died. He was 104 and not doing all that well, but still seemed insanely healthy for a man his age. What I'm trying to say is that I should have expected he'd die but still I didn't, I had no idea he could. March 11th was a warm, fairly sunny day. The girls and I were recovering from the flu. In celebration of our new, healthier bodies, I took the girls to get some spring clothes. I bought several outfits for each girl and one pair of shoes each. I came home and got the phone call shortly after our nice evening together. There it was. My grandfather was dead. I sat there holding the phone after my mother had hung up, wondering what I was supposed to do now.

C came down with the girls the following day for his weekly visit and was his usual, unhelpful self. I tried to figure out how I'd get to Pittsburgh to be with my family. Flights were over 1,000 dollars a piece. I cried, thinking I'd not be there. A little perseverance paid off as I discovered vastly cheaper flights at a different airport. While I booked mine and Eliza's reservations, C took the girls to the park. Not long after he'd left, he called to say Elena hurt her leg. We took her to the emergency room and after a few ankle Xrays yielded no broken bones, they diagnosed her as having a sprained ankle. Two days later, with her still not walking, I delivered Elena to my father and traveled to Pittsburgh with Eliza. We weren't there for much longer than 24 hours. Faces I hadn't seen for many years blurred in front of me as my grandfather lie motionless in a casket. The funeral was beautiful. Four of us grandchildren got up to say how much we thought of him. It was nice to hear everyone's words and stories about him.

I came home to find Elena still not walking. After finding an orthopedist willing to squeeze us in, I came home several hours later with a daughter in a full leg cast. It all seemed surreal. I'd left my beautiful baby girl with some one else, not knowing she had a broken leg. I had them put the cast on in pink so Eliza would like it. She later told me she'd rather it be purple. I shook my head feeling like I'd failed on more than one level. I put the new shoes I'd bought Elena the week before in the closet. I remembered the prior week, shopping at the Jackson outlet, the girls playing in one of those motorized cars you feed quarters to. All this while my grandfather lay on a bed, his heart failing.

The following Friday I spent up all night shooting a scene on a boat. We wrapped at 6:30am. Exhausted, I powered through that Saturday with my girls. I had little time to think about the events of the past month and what I've missed.

Now here it is, four Fridays later. As I type this, my parents are taking Elena to the doctor to have her cast taken off. Hopefully everything will be okay. Yes, I should be there but I'm not because I'm here in New York, soon to leave to meet a van that will take me up to our dreadful night shoot upstate. C will come down tonight to spend the night and tomorrow with the girls so I can rest a bit before taking over as Mama for a little more than 24 hours.

But like I said, as a freelancer, this job will end and next Friday, I'll be there for Eliza's spring concert. I'll be there at her school's bake sale. I'll be there, hugging my girls and Elena will hopefully be walking again and these past few weeks will feel like they hadn't happened.

Except my grandfather will still not be here. I last saw him alive in August of 2010. I tried to get a photo of him with Elena but anytime I put her anywhere near him, she cried. So no photo, no proof of their meeting will ever exist. Yes, I am lucky to have had this man in my life for 43 years but he was a man of such vast, of such inexplicable greatness, his loss is huge.

Valentines Day, Mama Style

A long time from now, in a galaxy far, far way, my girls will have their friends, boyfriends, spouses to spend Valentines day with. But for now, it's another wonderful day to celebrate just how much I love my little family.

When I was pregnant with Eliza and unsure of what kind of mother I'd be, my father said, "One thing I know for sure, you have a lot of love to give."

He wasn't wrong. It turns out I have so much love, oodles and oodles of it. Mount Vesuvius sized oodles of it, just bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be lavished on some one worthy enough.

I filled little gift bags with small gifts for the girls: matching swimsuits, strawberry shortcake coloring books, one age appropriate book for each girl, new toothbrushes and a little chocolate. The way Eliza acted, you'd have thought I'd given her a million dollars or at least the key to the universe.

The way I see it, a Mama's got a few good years, a few years where she's the equivalent of kings. A simple goody bag or home made Italian ice has the power to make her little girl's day. An oversized Tinkerbell card is good enough to go into bed with her daughter at the end of a wonderful day. When I walked by Eliza's room after bedtime tonight, I saw her lying in bed with her Tinkerbell valentine in her hands. Beside her on the floor was her little goody bag.

I could lament my lack of a mate but that doesn't bother me in the slightest. I suppose when my girls have their own mates, I'll feel alone and neglected. Or maybe, I'll buy myself flowers, treat myself to a nice dinner and look back on the photos from those days when I, just an average mama, was truly the equivalent of a king.

Mama!

While I folded laundry, Elena made a discovery. She came running into the hallway saying, "Mama! Mama!" I met her in the hallway and she turned towards the living room. She took a few steps away from me and then looked back at me.

"Mama," she said, pointing towards the windows on the far side of the living room. Realizing she had something to show me, I followed.

I found this little exchange so charming. This is probably not the first time Elena has communicated, without words, that she has something she'd like me to see. But being that she's the second child, so many of the wonderful little things she does go unnoticed. Oh I remember the big stuff; the first night she slept alone in her bassinet instead of practically on top of me, her first word (Hi), the first steps she took on the tennis court at the park down the street. But the little stuff; the first time she smiled, the first time she sat up on her own, the first time she rolled over, even though they all happened more recently than Eliza's firsts, I don't remember them. It seems like the first 21 months of Elena's life have passed in a blur.

In fact, most days while Eliza's in school, Elena and I barely spend any time together. I am forcing myself to excercise so I do that while she plays in the playroom. Then I get sidelined by chores, phone calls, work-related activities. She and I hardly ever do things together where as with Eliza I hosted puppet shows, we went to the park constantly, I took 1,000 photos per week.

So today, I followed, excited to have this tiny interaction with her. I hoped that she wasn't going to show me another broken lamp. She toddled over to a shelf that holds several photographs, all of them including at least one of the three of us. She pointed to the only photo of me with both girls, her finger resting on me.

"Mama!" she said, grinning so broadly I thought her face might break. "Mama!" she said tapping the glass again.

The photo was taken sometime in the fall. It's from our back porch. I know it was taken after mid-August because we're sitting on an overturned canoe that belonged to my neighbor. On that day, she pulled up in her car and we waved down to her. She took out her camera and snapped the photo. I'm in the middle, the farthest from the camera. Elena is camera right, in the foreground, her hands on the bars of the porch. Eliza sits forward on my other side, grinning. I remember being so happy when my neighbor gave me the photo. There are very few photos of the three of us.

Elena was so happy with her ingenuity. She had recognized me in a photo. I'd like to say she recognized herself and her sister but she just kept pointing to me and smiling. There I was, her Mama, grinning unblinkingly from someplace else while I also stood beside her. I held up a photo taken six years ago of myself with baby Eliza but she didn't seem to recognize me. I tapped another photo of myself, cuddled against an actor for a show I worked on a long time ago. Elena didn't say anything, going back to the photo of the three of us and saying "Mama!"

I kissed her round, cottony cheek. My little Elena. I might not spend much time with her, but every now and then, we have a moment. It's not enough, I don't know that it's ever enough but it's going to have to do.

Happy, happy

"Happy" is the word Elena uses to start off her day each day. I hear her in the crib quietly saying singing "happy, happy" to herself. It's a derivative of the song happy birthday taught to her by a singing teddy bear. The singing Happy Birthday bear was a gift to Eliza for her first birthday from my close friend Meredith. Four years later, that same bear is teaching Eliza's little sister how to sing.

Happy is how we've been this week. Last week was a tough week and as of Saturday night, I decided this week would be a better week. Nothing particularly bad happened last week. There was another snowstorm but it was not nearly as bad as predicted and although we lost one day due to digging out, it did not impact us like the December 26th blizzard. I wasn't feeling great, a close friend went into the hospital last Tuesday and I interviewed for a job I really don't want. So I suppose those factors led to my bad mood. But mostly I just think I'm lonely. Starved for friends my own age. It's been one month straight of just me and the little girls. So I kicked off the pity party and let myself wallow in it a bit too long. Yelled at the kids, a bit too zealously. Didn't get enough sleep.

But then I decided enough was enough and we've had a good week so far. There is still enough snow outside to make it hard to walk around outside so we've been housebound. So Eliza helped make the soup on Sunday by peeling potatoes and carrots and mixing up the noodle dough. On Monday, my father and his wife stopped by for a bit and this did wonders to cheer up the little girls. Tuesday, Eliza went back to school and the past two days I've settled comfortably into my routine.

After I picked Eliza up at school yesterday, we stopped at Duncan Donuts on Ocean Avenue so I could get a gift card for Remy, my stepson who turns 14 on Friday. While the girls and I enjoyed donuts and hot chocolate, I noticed how huge the waves were across the street. The waves were so gigantic from all the current winter activity, it looked like they'd practically come into the donut shop. They were far enough away so I didn't feel unsafe but I've never been able to see ocean waves from inside the donut shop. They're usually blocked by the boardwalk and fence.

The girls and I went outside and crossed the street for a closer look. The waves came almost to the boardwalk. The girls ran down the boardwalk laughing and I realized, I've been driving past this ocean most days since Christmas vacation ended and I haven't stopped, not once, to look at the waves. As the girls enjoyed an unseasonably warm day by chasing each other in circles on the boardwalk, I savored the look, the sound, the smell of the beach in winter. There's still huge piles of snow along the beach. One pile is so high, kids have converted it into the equivalent of a black diamond for sledding. A temporary fence has been put up along a stretch to keep ocean avenue from flooding. But even with the weather, the bleakness, the snow, the beach is still so awesome. Watching the girls play, drinking them in, it made me so, happy, happy.

On to less happy thoughts--I may have landed this job I interviewed for. It's a good job and financially it will be a lifesaver but it will take me away from my girls for an extended period of time. I put the feelers out for babysitters and have some good candidates on the table, but I'm not sure where this will lead. I've been feeling happier because as time passed from the interview, I felt more comfortable that they've offered the job to some one else. But they called tonight and just left a message for me to call back. I don't plan to do it until tomorrow morning because I don't know what I want to say. I know I don't want it but then there's that voice in my head, not necessarily the one that's panicked about money, but the one that says, do you not want it because you're afraid of change? Change sometimes can be a good thing.

We'll see where this goes.

Exhausted

It's a new year, a time people often embrace with hope. We had a horrific snowstorm to close out the year that left me feeling a bit lost and not exactly hopeful. My life has always been about being as self-sufficient as I can be. I'm not the type to ask for directions and not the type to ask for help, even when I should. But nothing will bring you back to begging for help like the wallop of 36 inches of snow and 70mph winds that cause massive snow drifts, some more than seven feet high.

When I tell people we were trapped inside for more than 30 hours, other fellow storm survivors say "Yeah, we weren't plowed out until Tuesday." But no, I'm talking a five foot wall of snow pressed right up against my back door that made leaving that way impossible and a front door that's bolt was frozen shut.

Following the major snowfall on Sunday and early Monday, the day was so miserable and windy it's not like I wanted to go out anyway. From my front window, I could see a caterpillar going back and forth over the huge wall of snow that had formed across the street. The winds had created something I'd never seen before, a massive hill of snow stretching almost all the way down the block on one side of the street while on my side of the street, I could see the sidewalk. It looked like some kind of ominous wave. I'd never seen anything like it, the sight of that huge snow wave greeting me at 4am Monday morning still haunts me.

So with the caterpillar going back and forth, back and forth for several hours, on my block alone, I knew we weren't going anywhere no one was coming to us. But the hours ticked on by and still my front door wouldn't open. Trying to shovel down the wall of snow out the back door only succeeded in a huge pile of snow inside my house. The back porch and steps would have to be cleared from the outside but I couldn't get there.

I called my landlord who was in Florida, no real help. I spoke to the guy who'd been contracted to do snow removal, no real help. I saw some Mexicans walking down the street with shovels, I shouted out the window to them. They tried to pick at the block of ice that prevented my door from opening but they couldn't do it. I called the police who told me a lot of people were in my position and if the door was clear from snow, I could call them for help and they'd blast the door open. So I waited.

Around 7pm, the snow removal service arrived to clear a walkway in the building my landlord owns across the street. I hung a sign in the window for help, hoping they'd realize that even though my door looked clear, it wasn't. When I saw them packing up their truck to head home after probably a miserable day, I pounded on the window. They were able to pick through the ice and we were freed around 7:30pm. The business of freeing my car from a 10 foot wall of snow wouldn't happen until two days later. I used a sled to pull the two girls through town but with the mountains of snow on the corners, I often had to pull them onto the street. With Elena not exactly cooperative, just going two blocks was pretty scary.

Now more snow is looking this weekend and although the forecast so far is not severe, it could change on a dime. My parking space is still full of snow so I'm not sure where I'll park my car. My skylight in the bathroom and windows rattled so hard after the last snow, I'm not sure this apartment can really handle the winter that looms in front of us. I am responsible for driving my daughter to and from school on Friday. So I won't know where I can park until after I pick her up. I could decide to keep her home on Friday so I can park on one of the few slots on the street where the plows will hopefully leave me alone. The question of who will dig me out then hovers over my head.

It is all too much for a single woman with two young children. I am their sole provider. I have food and we won't starve. But if we lose power or there's an emergency, we really will be stuck inside. So I'm afraid. This is how 2011 starts for me. With fear.