Just BrEathe

The girls frequently ask about what Heaven is like.
We tell them what we think Heaven is but obviously we are not experts on that subject....not yet anyway.
In fact, H asked last night if I think that you can smell your "home smell" in Heaven.
My answer was a resounding "YES!"
Because, to me, Heaven is your version of perfection - in every way.  (And apparently, she loves our home smell.)
In my Heaven, you smell, taste, feel, talk about, listen to, spend time with whomever and whatever is in your perfection.

This past weekend, a dear, Dear, DEAR friend (more dear to us than he'll ever know) told us that, in his mind, he refers to his Heaven as "Nine Minutes".
So, I can't take credit for his idea.
But I will write about it and take credit for what I write below.  (Or maybe I won't want to take credit for it.  I've not written it yet.)

Nine Minutes.
The time between when you hit "snooze" the first time and when your alarm goes off for the second time each morning. What he feels during these nine minutes is what his Heaven will be, he thinks.

It's the start of a new day.
Whatever was wrong the day before, is over.  It's done.  You can't change it.
You can move on, learn from it, and start a new day, full of potential (...in nine minutes.)

And yet, it's not quite the start of a new day yet.  (Remember?...You still have nine minutes left...)
So, anything that you need to worry about, well, it can wait just a few minutes longer.  (You got it...nine minutes longer, to be exact.)

You don't need to talk.  Or tell.  Or ask.  Or debate.  Or remember.  Or call.  Or text.  Or drive.  (Don't ever do those two at the same time...) Or cook.  Or pick up.  Or build.  Or clean.  Or yell.  Or annoy. Or be annoyed.  Or cry.  Or fire.  Or hire. Or type.  Or fix.
You only need to "be".

Nine Minutes.  It's the only time each day that he gives himself to just "be".

And "being" is a great thing to be.

I think we should all do it ... for more than Nine Minutes, if possible...Heaven can wait.

The "Pekkis"

I just posted this picture on Facebook today.  

Uncle Freddie (the "good lookin' guy" on the right) is the only Pecci sibling still here with to us make us laugh and shake out heads at (as in "are you for real?").  

Surely a "Fred's Shed" blog will make an appearance here at some point.  

There were two other Pecci siblings, Uncle Tony (who's wife, Auntie Julia, is still rocking the world with her amazing 95+ year-old-self) and Uncle Tilly.  I never met Uncle Tony or Uncle Tilly.  Boy, I wish I had. 

I miss these three ladies above. More than words can ever say.  And I am sad because Uncle Freddie is getting old and his laughs and jokes are not as loud or larger than life as they used to be. As we want them to be.  

I am missing this picture above.  A lot lately.  

Here are three posts that I previously wrote about "Auntie" (Maffie), "Gram" (Angie) and "Auntie El" (Eleanor).

No need to read it all - it's a lot. (or any of it, for that matter).  I take no offense. 

I am posting this because I want to read about them.  And I feel better (and really that's all that matters cuzit'sallaboutme). 

 AUNTIE MAFFIE 

Auntie Maffie was one of my gram's older sisters.  The fourth oldest of the six Pecci siblings.  If you didn't know her, you can't possibly get an accurate picture of her. Not a physical picture.  Not an emotional picture.  Not a social picture.  You truly had to know her to know her.  I promise.  But I will do my best. 

She had closets full of clothes, still with tags on them and yet always shopped like there was no tomorrow.

She baked without recipes and everything always came out nothing short of yummy.

She loved her house down the cape.  She would cry every Thanksgiving when she'd be leaving for the season.  Her cape house is one of the most treasured things in my life.  It connects me to her.  It always will.

She made THE most delicious salad (especially at the cape.)  It was nothing fancy or all that crazy.  But it was delicious.  Every time.

She had trouble hearing and admittedly didn't have much formal schooling.  As a result of both of these things (in addition to the fact that she really didn't care if she was wrong), she called many things by the incorrect (but close) name, no matter how many times we told her.  For example, Wendy=Windy, Davis Thayer-David Thayer, Hannah and Madison=Hannison, Ocean State Job Lot=Ocean State Job Lock, Betsy=Bessie, Cold=Coal, Dupe=Pooxie.  I miss hearing her say those words, right, wrong or otherwise. 

She would call every few days "just to say hi". She'd talk about the weather, what she had for lunch, and how we should wear a hat outside so we don't catch a head cold.  *And if you weren't there to answer and she had to leave a message, she'd always end the message with "Looooove, Auntie Maffie."

She had no shame.  If she needed to use the ladies' room and she was in the livingroom, she'd start pulling at her pants, right then and there.  I know that seems wack, and it was, but man, it was funny too.

She would walk by her husband, our Uncle Louie, suddenly start humming or singing a song and dance with him in the middle of the kitchen.  They loved, loved, loved to dance.

Every birthday, she'd call and whether you answered the phone or not, she'd sing the entire version of "Happy Birthday" to you.   * See above.  (As if we ever questioned who it was on the other end.)

When H and M were little, she would say to them, "Hiiiiiii, Cookie".  They started calling her "Cookie".  Always have.  Always will.

We all could, so easily, get on her Shit List.  It was remarkable.  If we didn't call, didn't write, didn't visit, didn't visit enough, didn't visit long enough...you get the picture-you heard about it.  It was just as easy to get off the List, but it wasn't fun when you were on It.  Believe me.

No matter what time of day, if you entered her house (and were of age), you'd be offered a shot of ginger brandy.  "A bukaruch".  I have no idea how to spell it, but many of you have heard her say it.  If you refused, she'd drink by herself.  Even if it was before noon.  That made no difference.  We still do that every time a visitor enters the house at the cape.  You can be sure of that.

When I was a teen, she would often try to talk to me about "boys".  I was so uncomfortable, I blocked it all out of my mind.  I do remember that she always told me and some of my friends to "be sure that we always keep our knees together."  Who says that?!!?  Auntie Maffie did. 

If ever you were wearing something that she liked or had something in your house that she liked, she'd say "Oh, I like that.  Did I give that to you?" or "Oh, that's so pretty.  I gave that to you, right?"  It was so funny.  She always believed it to be true.

She was able to crochet and knit like a champ.  Some of our favorite blankets in our house were made my her.  I often want to wrap myself up in them, just be close to her.

She loved the Red Sox.  And Wheel of Fortune.

She had an amazing sense of fashion.  She knew just how to wear a scarf or a piece of jewelry.   She dressed impeccably and always looked "like a million bucks."

She always called Guy "the surveyor".  I'm sure she had no idea what he really did for work.  But that's what she always said.  "How's the surveyor?  Good, I hope.  He's so lucky to have you."

She never got a license and yet she would tell Uncle Louie how to drive.  "Wait, wait, Louie, now wait."  I don't know what she thought he should wait for but he did, because he was a smart man.  A very, very smart man!!

She always had a fab tan in the summer.  And crazy long nails.  Oh and great jewelry.  Always.  I wear one of her rings every day.  With love, honor and respect.

She would sit on her front porch down the cape and say "hi" to everyone who walked by on their way to or from the beach.  She knew who was where, who was what, when who was coming.  You get the point.  Nothing got past her.

She taught me to be proud of myself.  She taught me to stand up for myself.  She taught me to love myself.  She taught me to love my family.  She taught me to be a better person.   She was a one in a million lady.  And there will never be another one like her.  Of that you can be sure.

Looooooooove you, Auntie.  Loooooooove you!!!!!

 GRAM

I wrote this entry shortly after my gram passed away.  One of the saddest times of our lives, to say the very least.

Dear Gram,

To say that your legacy lives on in me, my cousins and our children is an understatement. We are all more like you in ways we don’t even realize sometimes.  (Sorry, Guy, but it’s true…good luck. At least you know what you’re in for.)

We joke that you called me “a miracle” to everyone who’d listen (or pretend to listen).  Your pride in me and the rest of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren went unmatched.  I beg anyone to challenge me on that statement.

You never missed a single First Day of School.  Even when I was in college, you’d head up to our house to say goodbye before we headed down to PC.  At the time, it was sort of “expected” because I knew you’d be there.  Now, looking back, I am in awe of it.  What a simple, quick visit can do for a kid.

I can’t think of a single “thing” of mine that you weren’t there for, for 35 of my years– recitals, shows, presentations, parties, meetings, you name it.  In fact, when H and M were little and we enrolled them in their first “class”, I was afraid to take them by myself.  I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle both of them.  Who came with me each week?  You did.

While I would sing in church, you would tell every single person who walked by you, that I was your granddaughter.  Yes, Gram, they thought I was beautiful.  And yes, Gram, they had never heard a more beautiful voice.  (At least they knew that was what they were supposed to say.)  Oh, and by the way, it was very clear to them that I was your granddaughter.  You had already told them for that past 2,619 Sundays.

Your ability to not take things too seriously (including yourself) is a quality that I am proud to say I see in myself.  Like you, I let most things roll off my back.  And like you, if I do get upset about something – look out.  I mean business.

Every time I need something to be hemmed or mended in some way, (honestly) my first thought is to give it to Gram.  That’s one thing that, unfortunately, you didn’t teach me.  I truly can’t thread a needle successfully.  Oh well, I love you anyway.  You taught me lots of other things…

Most of the phrases that I have coined as “mine” are really not mine– they are “yours”.  I share them with you. And I melt a little when I hear Maddie and Hannah saying them now as well.

But Gram, I am angry about one thing.  And it’s a pretty big thing.  It’s not your fault.  It’s not your fault at all.  It’s no one’s fault.  And yet, I can’t get it out of my mind.  It creeps in to my head when I least expect it and I get angry.  So angry.  (See “I mean business” angry above.)

Gram, you were taken from us too early.  For a few years, you were “here” with us, but “you” weren’t.  It started innocently enough and, because we didn’t know enough about what was happening, when you said or did things that didn’t make sense, we all just thought “Oh, that’s just Gram…she’s being, well, Gram.”  Soon enough though, that didn’t cut it anymore.  We knew that you were leaving us.  It happened slowly at first and then, as if in a blink, “you” were gone.   Suddenly we didn’t know you anymore.  You looked like you.  You sounded like you, sort of.  But you weren’t you.  We lost you.  And we didn’t have a map.

I would say on my way down the hallway to visit, “maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of Gram today.  Maybe she’ll say something that will be ‘just like Gram’ today.  Maybe she’ll remember exactly who we are and why we are there and she’ll understand what I’m trying to say to her.”  Some days, at the beginning, my prayers would be answered.  I’d catch a “glimpse of Gram”.  And I’d be so happy, like a little kid.  I had my Gram back.  And then you’d be gone.  As time went on though, these glimpses were fewer and fewer. 

It just didn’t make sense.  In my head, I would shout, “what do you mean, you don’t know this, that or the other thing?  You’re Gram! How can you not know what I’m talking about?”  I’d get in my car and cry. You know, the big, from the toes cry.  I’d sob.  And I’m sure I’m not the only one in our family who did that.

And then, I’d hope for a glimpse again, the next time I saw you.  Up until the very last day. 

I would say, “I miss you more than you know.” 

But the amazing thing now is, I believe that you do know.  You know every breath I have taken and will take.  Now, you understand everything – everything that has happened and will happen. 

You have more than a glimpse of me.  You have an eternity.

AUNTIE ELLIE 

During our crazy record breaking "snowinter" (that is, thank God, behind us), I thought a lot about the Blizzard of '78.  

My parents were managers of Ledgewood Apartments at the time. They had been for years.  In fact, we lived there until the summer before when we moved to our house.  Before, during and after the storm, they, understandably, had to spend days on end dealing with “landlord-type” stuff at the apartments – plowing, shoveling, loss of power, etc.  Only being six at the time, I needed someplace to stay while they were busy working. 

Where did I stay?  Ledgewood Apartment C-5.  Auntie Ellie’s. 

My Auntie Ellie passed away when she was 94.  I had the incredible honor of delivering the eulogy at her funeral.  I am beyond words thankful to have been given the opportunity to share with our family and friends my thoughts on this amazing lady. Among the thoughts I shared, were my memories of Apartment C-5.

I spent a lot of time in that apartment with her over the years.  I think about it a lot.  It was really the “hub” of Ledgewood. There were 48 units and yet, everyone knew where the action was.  Apartment C-5.  It was where all the repair folks, delivery folks, perspective renters, and current renters (not to mention family and friends) knew they could go – for a laugh, a drink, some food, a hug, or big juicy kiss – whatever they needed.  There was always something cooking on the stove.  There was also always something in the oven.  And something on deck…in case more company showed up…It was truly amazing. She could whip up something delicious in to seconds flat, without hesitation.  (When she was in her 80's, she'd love to tell us how she'd "cook for elderly" who lived in her apartment building. She had no idea that she was decades older than most of the "elderly" about whom she spoke). 

She truly never said an unkind word.  About anyone.  No joke.  It was really laughable. Everything and everyone was beautiful.  Just, just beautiful.  

She loved her family more than anything else.  If the entire world was caving in around her, as long as she had her family with her, she'd be okay. And she always was.

My most treasured memories of Apartment C-5 took place in a red recliner chair.  I often wonder what happened to that chair.  I would give anything to have it in our house now.  Auntie Ellie and I would spend hours sitting side by side in the chair.  She, in her snap up the front apron.  Me, with  my pageboy haircut and cords.  She’d say, “Push over.  I’m sooo fat!  My big behind can’t fit.”  She'd laugh, I’d giggle and push over as far as I could. To me, though, the more squooshed we were, the better.  We’d grab our songbook from her drawer and sing: “Five Foot Two”, “After the Ball”, “Take Me Out To The Ballgame”, "Side by Side", "Ain't She Sweet", "If You Knew Suzie".  We’d sing at the top of our lungs.  We didn’t care what we sounded like.  We thought we sounded amazing.  It was pure joy for both of us.  Pure. Simple. Joy.

Auntie Ellie gave me our songbook for Christmas in 1990.  On the note with it, she wrote, “Dear Kim, This was our special book.  It has such beautiful memories.  Love you.  Merry Christmas.  Love, Auntie Ellie.”  As I look at her handwriting, I can hear her voice and smell her perfume.

Our songbook and its note sit in my jewelry box.  I see them every day.  And I am reminded of the love that I felt in Apartment C-5.  

THE 'PEKKI' SISTERS

These three ladies.  They remind me of what I want to be when I grow up.  

Touches

Yesterday, I heard of a local family that is in the throes of an unthinkable tragedy.  All day (and I don't imagine that this feeling will go away any time soon), I was a little bit off.  Part of me is in absolute "heartbreak mode" for them and the other part of me is in absolute "take my breath away in fear mode" at the thought of losing a child. I have trouble even writing that.  There are truly no words for what they are living right now.  They are, and forever will be, broken.  This family will need (and will have) love and support from now until forever, I am sure. Their family and friends will be there for them - for when they need them, for when they don't need them, for when they think they don't need them and for every moment in between.

It made me think about the little touches in life that we live each day, each week, each month that we don't really think about.  Those little touches that truly affect us, in ways big and small, that we don't even realize. I'm not talking about the one and done touches and I'm also not talking about the huge, obvious life changing touches.  I'm talking about the day to day, week to week, repeat touches that we live over and over that are (seemingly) quite tiny compared to the other "bigger" things in our lives. But really when it comes right down to it, it's these little moments - these touches - that fill out our lives and get us from where we are to where we are going.  They happen so quickly, we often miss them. But without them, there'd be a lot of "life holes" to be filled.

I know that it's not always the biggest, loudest, earth-shattering, life-changing moments that touch our lives that have the most impact.
I know that it's not always the biggest, loudest, earth-shattering life-changing people that touch our lives that have the most impact.

I know that it's the little things that when put together, have a big, loud, earth-shattering, life-changing impact. Every day. 

And I also know that I will miss his little peeks around the doorway every Thursday afternoon.  I will miss his little footsteps racing down the hallway.

We may not have known him all that well.
But he touched us.  And we will miss his touches.

Ruff Ruff

If THIS had been the dog barking at me from its car as I got out of my car last night at Big Y, I would have thought that it was cute.  

I'd have giggled and continued on my merry way to buy my rolls, cucumbers and cheese.

But it wasn't that kind of dog. 

It was THIS kind of dog. 

(Well, I honestly don't know what kind of dog it was but it was surely more like THIS dog than THAT dog.)

I wouldn't have been so surprised or frightened as I closed my car door and it barked at me from a partially opened window, inches away.

I  wouldn't have nearly peed my pants or squealed like a 5 year old either.

I also wouldn't have thrown my brand new iphone 6 to the ground in surprise. 

And it wouldn't have shattered in to a gajillion pieces. 

But sadly, it was.
And I did.

Dammit.

Like,

Last night, a dear friend of mine, (I'll call him Pzoni - the "z" is silent - to protect his anonymity) suggested that I start a blog. I couldn't BELIEVE that he didn't know that I HAVE a blog.
How could he now KNOW this about me?

It made me wonder about all of the other things about me that he doesn't know.

Like, I am deathly afraid of not seeing my girls, their babies and their babies' babies grow up.
It sometimes keeps me awake at night.
Every night, I end my prayers with "let me see my children and grandchildren and my great-grandchildren laugh and play".

Like, I will eat anything once.  And more than likely I'll love it.

Like, I am obsessed with watching prison shows.
And probably because of this...

Like, I sleep with my old softball bat underneath our bed when Guy is away.

Like, in college, I saw Winger perform at some seedy club in Providence and I weasled my way to the front row.  I may or may not have grabbed Kip Winger's thigh while he was performing.   Shoot. - I can't remember what he said to me but he said something...I'll have to try to remember.  I was teased about it for months afterwards.

Like, Guy is the exact type of husband I pictured when I imagined who I'd marry. My imaginary husband, however, wasn't quite as much of a sports nut as the real one.  Go Pats!!

Like, when I eat a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, I am freakishly happy.  Happier than I should be, for sure.

Like, I regret every day that I stopped "really playing the piano" as soon as my senior recital was over.

Like, one of my favorite movies, by far, is "Mommy Dearest".  I'm not sure what that says about me.

Like, I ran my first marathon in 4:12 and my second in 4:07.  I am obsessed (especially on my runs) by the fact that I'm not training to shave off :07 in "one last marathon" to see if I could break four hours.  I recognize that this is stupid and I should either get over it or run another one.  Instead, I'll just write about it here.

Like, the minute I finish reading a book, I can't tell you a thing about it.  It's like I never read it.

Like, I can no longer watch "Ghost, or "The Outsiders" or "Dirty Dancing". It just makes me so sad that he is dead.

Like, when I make Guy laugh, I am always so proud of myself.  'Cuz I'm wicked funny.

Like, I would pack a bag right now and move us to Italy (Guy thinks I'm kidding but I'm totally serious) if we could pawn our house off on someone for six months.  You only live once.

Like, if I didn't have the job I have now (which I honestly can't imagine), I would love to be an interior decorator.  I wouldn't be good at it, I don't think, but that's what I'd want to be.

Like, I seem really nice and kind.  And I am.  But not always.

Like, I'm starving. So, The End.

Squeaky Clean

I feel as if I've mentioned this somewhere before but I'm too lazy to go back to see if it's here in this blog somewhere.  If we have already discussed this, it's worthy of discussion again.  Because it caused that much of a scar on my soul.

I was in eighth grade.  My parents surprised me, my grandparents, my Auntie Ellie and my Auntie Maffie with a trip to Italy.  It was an amaaaazing trip of a lifetime.  I have so many incredible memories that I will cherish forever.

While on the trip, we visit with tons of family. One day, we were visiting our "rich" cousins (they had indoor plumbing and Atari) and, while my parents and the rest of the family went out, I stayed home with my cousin, Angela Marie.  When you're a kid, everyone's ages get skewed and so it's hard to say how old she was at the time.  (I remember thinking that my second grade teacher was "ancient" and now, come to think of it, I bet she was 25.) 

Anywho...Angela Marie and I were home.  In my memory, she was 85 but I bet she was younger than I am now.  (Oh sweet baby Jesus, I bet that's true.)  She was this cute little lovely lady who smelled like garlic and ivory soap all at once.   She didn't speak a word of English and I, sadly, didn't speak a word of Italian.  (I don't have many regrets in life but this is one of them.)

Somehow, over the course of the evening, I understood that she asked if I wanted to take a bath.  "Sure", said my eighth grade self.  "That would be nice.  It's August.  There's nothing in this entire country that is air conditioned.  I am a Bertoni so I sweat like nobody's business (even as a kid) and it will be super refreshing.  Great."

There was a cool claw-foot tub. There were bubbles.  There was the smell of homemade sauce coming in from the kitchen for dinner.  And suddenly, there was Angela Marie.  In the bathroom.  Bathing me.  It happened so quickly.  I couldn't stop it. 

She was totally not bathing me in a creepy "Dr. Phil/Maury Povich/Jerry Springer-way".  It was totally in a "you are my cousin from America and I want to take care of you and we can't talk to each other so let me do this for you"-way.  (Well that seems weird too but it really wasn't).

I mean - wait.  It totally was weird.  You DO remember that I was in eighth grade, right?  I knew that I was dying inside but at the same time, I knew that she meant nothing other than complete and total love by it.  (Again, that sounds weird. I promise you. It was not.) 

Anyway, after what was (in my memory) the longest bath in the history of baths was over, I remember some kid cousins coming over and I totally schooled them in centipede. (I was very happy that our rich Italian cousins had Atari so that I could take my mind off of The Cleansing).

I wish you could have seen my face. I wish I could have seen my face.

Classic.  Simply and utterly classic Kim.

...now back to folding laundry...

Who Knew?

They were little.
Itty bitties.
I forget who was where exactly but one of them was sitting on the couch with Guy.
The other one was upstairs taking a nap.
Suddenly, the one on the couch said to Guy, "Daddy, sister up."
Guy didn't think much of it but knew that "the sister" was still upstairs sleeping.
A few minutes later, again, "Daddy, sister up."  No noises from upstairs.  Nothing.
He walked over to the stairs and sure enough, around the corner from their bedroom came "sister". Awake from her nap, just as was being announced a few minutes prior.

Who knew?
The Sister did.

If you catch them just right in the middle of the night, you'll sometimes hear them talking a language that is certainly no language I've ever heard.  It's clear that one is asking questions and the other is answering her questions, simply by the inflection in their voices.  It only lasts for a minute but it is quite possibly the coolest thing I've ever heard.

A few mornings ago, Hannah wasn't feeling well.  She rebounded early afternoon and was outside playing, doing homework and having a grand ol' day.  Guy and I thought she was on the mend.  Later that night, we were all watching tv and Hannah fell asleep. (It wasn't all that unusual - she's a sleeper and can fall asleep at an alarming speed, especially when relaxing with her Daddio).  She hadn't even stirred yet and Maddie got up from the couch and walked over to her.  The look of sadness and stress in Maddie's face was impossible to not notice.  Two seconds later, Hannah woke up. Miserable and feeling terrible all over again.

Who knew?
The Sister did.

Ever since they were little, when one is "brave", the other is "afraid".
And for the next go-round, the roles become reversed.  One is confident while the other is hesitant.

Who knew it'd be such a wild ride with these two?

Who knew?
The Sisters did.

BFFs

The bald guy on the bike. 

The lady with the hat. 

The other lady with the dog. Sometimes two dogs. 

The other lady with the other dog. 

The Italian Nonna. 

The teacher. 

The grandmother. 

The holding hands couple. 

The Running Lady. 

These are the people I see nearly every day when I run.  

We wave.  

We say "g'mornin'" and I wonder if they are closer to being done with their workout than I am.  (Especially when it's three degrees colder than Ridiculous.)

I make up stories about them that I think are true. 

I sometimes worry about them when I don't see them.  

I wonder what they do after we see each other. 

I need a life.

..."these are a few of my favorite things..."

This week in my musical theater classes, I asked all of my students to tell us a favorite memory of their winter break.  I only let them each share one memory- otherwise, we'd be there until NEXT winter break.

Vacation seems as if it happened forever ago.  So, I'm going to think about some of my favorite memories and pretend that they're still happening.

...And I'm going to think about more than one...'cuz this blog is all about me...

1. Walking around Beacon Hill with my Four Family.
2.  Watching Hannah and Maddie decide the perfect thing to buy in Boston with their own Christmas present money.
3.  Sitting in our family room with some of "the original" Broadway Light and those that loved us then and now.
4.  Watching old family movies with my cousins on Christmas.
5.  Sitting in my kitchen on Christmas Day with friends - who are really family.
6.  Not wanting to have a birthday (or a birthday party...) but then being so happy each time someone else showed up.
7.  Automatically waking up at 6:00 and going back to sleep until 8:00.
8.  Singing the annual "Twelve Days of Christmas" on Christmas Eve.
9.  Watching and listening to my dad and Uncle Freddie play a game that I've not seen them play in years.  It is pronounced "mortah" but I really have no idea how to spell it.  (Even google can't help me.)
10. Seeing Maddie and Hannah in their pjs with bedhead all day long.
11.  Painting Hannah's dresser for her new room.
12.  Finding "the perfect" rug for Maddie.
13.  Playing Headbands with my cousins and laughing so hard my head hurt.
14.  Cooking.  A lot.
15.  Knowing that the first thing Hannah would do each morning, no matter what, is plug in the Christmas tree lights.
16.  Seeing Hannah and Maddie's faces as they settled in to their ""own rooms" for the first time.
17.  New Year's Eve traditions.
18.  Sitting at our office brunch, laughing.  And laughing.  And laughing.  (And not necessarily at my expense this year!)
19.  Asking their girls and a BFF when we were at the movies if they wanted me to sit with or without them and hearing an emphatic "with!"
20.  Knowing that I'll do it all again next year.

Can I Have An Amen, Sister?

New Years Resolutions would be much easier to keep if we celebrated in July. (At least in New England.)

Odds Are

"Rock, Paper Scissors" 

The ultimate Problem Solver/Decision Maker in our house.

Who will go to a make-up piano lesson and when. 

Who will shower first. 

Who will answer the door or phone.

And who will choose the movie that we watch next. 

Who needs to claim the dirty socks on the floor. 

Who will have the last cookie in the jar. 

In case you're curious, H tends to be the more frequent two out of three winner. 

And, oh how I wish, all decisions could be made so easily... ;)

2015

As we head in to 2015, this is what I want. 

To capture every one of ^ these ^ moments.  

To keep ^this^ balance.  

Of family.  

And of life. 

To move faster if I need to. 

But to always remember that ^this^ speed is the one makes my world happiest.

To talk. 

To listen. 

To keep ^these^ three in the center of my world. 

Always. 

Oh, and to lose 15 pounds...
At least.