Greetings From Molly

Hi everyone, it's me, Molly.

Foster mom and foster dad are so impressed with my progress.  They giggle at me because I act like a puppy.  I might be nine years old, but I'm young at heart.  I love to chew soft toys, and sometimes, I steal my human foster brother's stuffed bear.  Foster mom and dad just gently take it away and replace it with my favorite stuffed duck.

My foster brother, Rudy, thinks I'm pretty great.  He's nine, too, but he doesn't have as much energy as I do.  He plays chase and wrestle with me, but when he's had enough, he barks at me and tells me to stop.  I leave him alone for a rest, and then we're right back at it!

Foster mom said that my doctor called, and the results of my fecal test were negative.  She says that's good news, but I have no idea what she's talking about.  Speaking of poop, yesterday, I was mad at Foster Mom, so I pooped in the house right in front of her.  Foster mom was confused.  She had no idea why I was upset, because we played outside all morning.  But, I've forgiven her, so I'm back to doing my business outside.  She seems to like that.  I just want to make her happy.  I felt pretty bad about going potty inside.  At least she didn't yell at me.  She just looked at me and said, "Oh, Molly, let's go outside."

Foster dad and mom keep squirting stuff in my ears.  I don't really like it, but I put up with it.  They promise that it will make me feel better.  My doctor thinks my ears have been hurting me for a very long time.  I have even stopped scratching my ears!  It feels pretty good.  I'm really trying to be on my best behavior and be a good girl.

Foster mom got me a dog bed and I love it, but what I really love the most is the couch and laps.  Foster brother Rudy gets a bit grouchy when I sit on his spot on the couch, but he just sighs and moves over.  Then we snuggle together.  I love him.

Foster mom said that a very nice lady and man are coming to meet me on Saturday, because they might want to adopt me.  I'm so excited.  They know all about RAGOM and are experienced with lots of RAGOM volunteering, so I bet they can teach my foster mom a few tricks. 

And guess what?  Foster mom and dad are going to welcome Rory 08-547 as soon as they can find a ride for her.  I just know that I'll love to play with her, and my foster brothers will love her, too.  Especially my human foster brother - he is SO nice to us four-legged pals, and he's only four years old.  I'm older than he is, so I show him the ropes by letting him snuggle with me. 

 I'm on the left.  I'm getting a bit gray, but don't let that fool you!

See?  I really, really love to rest on the couch.

Hugs,
Molly

Date Night With Oysters

Since the day we've been married, Craig and I have carved out time for just the two of us. "Date night" has been a super important aspect of our marriage.

Lately, when we have date night, (we try to have an evening alone at least once a month, more if our schedule allows) we send Murray somewhere overnight, slip into comfy clothes, and cook something fabulous in the comfort of our own kitchen.  Then we spend the evening sharing delicious food, wine, conversation, a movie or mean game of Scrabble or Rummy.

But we do love to treat ourselves to dinner out once in a while.  Ruth's Chris Steakhouse is one of our favorites, as well as Axel's, but since we don't have either restaurant here in Moorhead, we have to get creative.  Thankfully, that's not hard to do.  Little ol' Moorhead, MN has some gems for fine dining.

Sarello's, a tiny, exclusive Italian reservation-only restaurant is where Craig took me on our third date.  Usher's House, which has great food and a fabulous view of the river, is another favorite.  But, hands down, the best restaurant (in our opinion) in Moorhead is John Alexander's. 

Last night we got dressed up, dropped off little guy, and off we went.  Craig wouldn't tell me what he had in mind, so I was pleasantly surprised when he drove us to John Alexander's, only a few blocks from our house.

We weren't disappointed.  We never are when we eat there.  Soft lighting, quiet conversation, a fabulous menu - we were feeling all swanky and relaxed and giddy.  We ordered an excellent bottle of Pinot Noir.

Photo Credit

And oysters on the half shell for an appetizer:


Photo credit

Although I love seafood, this was my first time eating oysters. I found them to be surprisingly delightful.  John Alexander's has their oysters shipped daily, so they couldn't have been more fresh unless we were dining in Nantucket (I think it's true that oysters are an aphrodisiac, ahem, blush).

For the main course, we each ordered the Steak Alexander, which is a beautiful cut of petite tenderloin grilled to perfection (medium rare for us) served with crisp asparagus and choice of creamy mashed potatoes (like no other we've ever eaten) or Tomato Basil Orzo (again, like no other).  Our taste buds were absolutely jumping for joy.  We lingered over the last of our wine and left feeling like newlyweds.

Next we went for a drink and a bit of Gopher Hockey at JC Chumley's - The Cheers Bar of Moorhead.

We were home by eight, snuggled up on the couch talking and watching "X-Men."  Certainly not my choice, but considering Craig always rents us a "chick flick", I decided it was his turn.  Besides, compromise is an important ingredient of any healthy relationship.

Besides providing you with a local restaurant review (you're welcome), my point is this: Don't forget to bring the romance alive again, and often. Sometimes, we get so involved in the daily grind that we forget what's really important in marriage: each other. 

I highly recommend the oysters.

He Knows, She Knows

Note:  Blogger must be having trouble.  Excuse the confusion.

After seven years of marriage, Craig and I seem to have each other's habits and preferences down pretty well. For instance:

He knows that margarine is not allowed in this house.  Butter only.
I know it drives him crazy when I don't refill the ice cube trays.

He knows that dog poop makes me vomit. 
I know that vomit makes him vomit.

I know that he hates it when I leave my reading light on at night.
He knows that I have a love/hate relationship with his snoring.

He knows that 'Roseanne' is one of my favorite TV shows.
I know he hates 'Roseanne'.

He knows I hate mayo and milk.
I know that he loves smoked oysters (those disgusting ones from a can).

I know that he is seriously in love with Kate Beckinsale.




Photo Credit:  http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Kate+Beckinsale&view=detail&id=1214527B734CC10C1008E3762EA3FF99A3AE4436&first=0


He knows that I would run away with Jon Bon Jovi.

Photo credit: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=jon+bon+jovi&view=detail&id=CF8876F0C7DD13739710088FA00EFF91096D2DBC&first=0

I know how proud I am of his hockey/skating abilities.

He knows how funny it is to try to watch me skate backwards.

He knows how to make me laugh.
I know how to make him mad.

We're still learning about one another, in fact, every day comes with surprises. 

I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Grandpa Doug

I can't breathe.  I'm laughing too hard.  Murray + Grandpa Doug (my Dad) = HILARIOUS.

When my Dad arrived last night, Murray was beside himself.  After they hugged furiously, the first words out of Murray's mouth were, "Grandpa, how many sleeps are you here for?" 

This morning, the second Murray woke up, he exclaimed, "Dad, Mom, I'm going to wake up Grandpa, but you can go back to sleep."  

These two have packed more adventures into 24 hours than I could in a week.

There was the breakfast date.  The two of them walked to McDonald's, ate 'pamcakes' and sausage and walked home. 

We went skating and Grandpa Doug pretended to fall down every time Murray fell.

We celebrated Christmas (a bit late, but hey, at least we were together).

Now, the two are eating 'copporn' (popcorn) and watching a movie, while snuggling on the couch. Murray keeps asking his Grandpa to say the word 'poop' - oh happy day - and he just finished explaining to my Dad that if Rudy finds another rabbit in the yard, he'll play with it too hard and it will have to go to heaven. 

Good grief.  What will tomorrow bring?

What A Husband Will Do To Make His Wife Stop Crying

When I was growing up, I had a blanket that my mom embroidered for me while she was pregnant.  I kept it until I was at least 24 years old.  Mom finally (but gently) reminded me that it was probably time to let it go.  After all, I was about to become a wife. 

I'll never forget how pretty it was.  She had hand-stitched four quilt blocks and sewn them into a soft, fuzzy, yellow fabric. 

Before Mom got sick, she taught me to embroider.  I was pregnant with Murray, and I wanted him to have a blanket that he cherished and loved as much as the one I had.  Mom's embroidery wasn't fancy; just simple, beautiful stitches.  When we found out that she had cancer, I would sit next to her at the hospital or at home, and work on quilt squares for my own little one.  Those little tiny stitches even helped my when I was at home and worried sick about Mom, and couldn't have wine - oh the horror - because I was expecting.

I never did finish the quilt (I can't sew, so our deal was that if I finished the stitching, she would put it together for me).  After she died, the idea of completing the project was just too much.  So I packed it all away, with the promise that someday, I would go back to it.  I didn't realize it would take me this long.  Today, I unearthed those pieces with the idea that I'd finish them for my the next addition to our family. I want to get that last square done so that my niece, who will arrive in April, will have a blanket that she loves as much as I loved mine.

I tried all day to get the stitching just right, the way Mom showed me. But I couldn't.  I Googled it, I I tried the 'over under' approach, and I attempted a back stitch (I don't even know what the heck that is).

Look at this:  Can you tell the difference between then and now?  Even back then, my embroidery wasn't great, but it was a heck of a lot better than it is today.

Anyway. 

When Craig came home from work today, he found me with a pile of embroidery floss and needles, drowning in tears. I wanted my Mom.  She would have been able to help me.

Craig gently pulled the hoop from my hands, sat in his chair, and worked on my failed stitching until he figured out my mistakes.  He didn't get it perfect, but he got me back on track.  As I was weeping for my Mom, I was giggling. I don't know very many men who would work on a sewing project just to stop his wife from being sad.  What a guy. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I married well.

A Few Things

If you haven't noticed, I've been experimenting with background, font, and layouts with my blog.  I'm getting ready for my big debut on my own domain.  It's more complicated than I thought it would be...but the IT experts assured me that it would be worth it.  You can still find me here until I figure all of this out.

On another note, thank you so very much to those of you who have donated items to St. Gianna's maternity home.  I know how much your gifts will be appreciated.  I will be accepting donations until December 15th, and will ship donations boxes on December 16.  Hopefully, we can touch a whole lot of kids and mommies who so desperately need help.  Still needed are bathrobes (for the expectant mothers), aluminum foil, baggies, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, stamps, and gift cards (for groceries, supplies, etc).  Please consider helping these local women and children.  You can read more about St. Gianna's here.

Murray and I had our monthly 'date day' today.  Our special time together always includes breakfast out, a bit of shopping, lots of game playing, movies, books, puzzles, hot chocolate, popcorn and tons of snuggles.  He exhausts me, but it's so worth it.  These days are my favorite...I will cherish them forever. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that as much as I love these days, I still look forward to nap time.  Which I'm off to now.  Because after that, it's time to play in the snow.

Yawn.

St. Gianna's Maternity Home

Saint Gianna Beretta Molla was canonized in 1962 by Pope John Paul II.  She was a loving mother of four, who gave her life to save her youngest child. She was diagnosed with a painful tumor while pregnant.  Had she endured the surgery necessary to save her life, her baby would have died. 

From St: . Gianna, "I renew the offering of my life to the Lord. I am ready for anything as long as my baby is saved."

The ultimate sacrifice. 

Read more about St. Gianna here.  And here.

Stay with me please, I do have a purpose.

Years ago, my late Mom was transferred  (for work) to a small town in northern ND.  I visited her often, and my route from Moorhead, MN to Grafton, ND, led me through the tiny town of Warsaw, ND. While driving through Warsaw, I always admired the Catholic Church of Stainslaus.

Each time I traveled through Warsaw, I couldn't help but notice a vacant brick building directly across the street from the church. 

Here it is:

Several years ago, Mom related to me that this building was being converted into a maternity home for pregnant women and teens in crisis.

St. Gianni's Maternity Home opened in 2003.  Since then, they have helped many pregnant women in crisis.  My Mom and I were both in awe at the generosity of the sisters and staff who opened this amazing place.

Recently, I felt the urge to do something to help the families that turn to St. Gianna's, so  I decided to start a fundraiser.  I realize that we're in a time of economic crisis, but really, even $2 would help. 

Some suggestions, according to the website:  Cleaning products, stamps (for postage), household items (i.e. toilet paper, plastic baggies (any size), paper towels, paper plates, etc..

That said, I would really like to be able to send these moms, babies, children, and staff a few gifts for Christmas.  It could be gift cards, a gently used toy, gently used clothing, pesonal items, or anything else you can think of.  Anything would be appreciated.

Please contact me with questions or comments.  I would love to hear from you. You can find me at marie.beckerleg@gmail.com or 218-329-2268.

A picture of a room for a babe and his/her Mom:

 

I Wasn't Ready For This

Note:  I had to keep editing this post due to Murray's antics. 

I wasn't ready for the "TALK."

It finally happened.  The day I was dreading.

Thank goodness I remembered the "birds and bees" discussion that my Mom had with me when I was four.

I was excited to tell Murray that my Dad's Gordon Setter, Madelyn, had her puppies tonight. This news brought on a slew of questions from little guy.

"How do the puppies get in Maddie's tummy?"

"How do they get out of her tummy?"

"But, MOM, how did they get in there?"

"How did I get in you to be born?"

Oh good grief.  I thought I could explain that God works miracles, and that Murray would accept this as a perfect answer.

Not so much.

So I launched into an explanation about how there are seeds and eggs, and they meet each other, and then a baby grows.

Wouldn't you think that this explanation would be satisfying to an almost-four year old?  I thought that it would.

It wasn't.  Not at all.

Insert DH snorting here, trying not to laugh.  We're trying to be serious because body parts are normal.

Murray said, "But how do the seeds and the eggs meet?  Okay, now I'm trying to hide my own laughter. 

So DH says, "Well, it's like a puzzle."

Huh? Again, good grief.

"Well, I said, when a Mom and a Dad love each other and are husband and wife, they share the eggs and the seeds to make a baby, and it grows in the Mom's tummy."

"But how does it get out?"

HELP HERE!!!!!! (Now DH is really snorting and laughing hysterically and I'm completely baffled).

"Well, it comes out of the Mom's vagina and the doctor helps."

"But, MOM, that's NOT what I was talking about.  I mean, HOW DOES THE SEED GET TO THE EGGS?" (Insert Craig giggling again and me throwing my hands in the air). 

"Because God said so."

It's Craig's turn next.

Date Day with Murray

Murray and I had the best day today.  We had a "date day"; we spent the entire day together. In no particular order:

1.  We slept in.
2.  We watched Curious George and ate breakfast sandwiches.
3.  We had a photo session at the park with Jennifer. Lots of giggling.
4.  We stocked up on art supplies.
5.  We shared hot chocolate.
6.  We worked on many "masterpieces".
7.  We took a nap together.
8.  We played several games of Memory and Candy Land.
9.  We set up his castle and ate homemade macaroni and cheese while we giggled some more.
10. We spent time with Aunt Maggie.
11. We sang songs and danced and read books.

Whew!  I'm exhausted.  Today was one of those days that you just know you'll never forget.

Our house is covered in finger paint and glitter glue, the dishes didn't get washed, and the laundry was ignored.  But you know, I just don't care.  When Murray woke up from his nap, snuggled in tight with me and said, "Mama, thanks SO much for staying with me today, I love you.", I realized that a dirty house is a happy home.

One more thing to remember:  When you're drinking cranberry juice and letting your child paint at the same time, be sure to keep the water glass separate from your juice. If you don't, you might accidentally drink the paint water instead of your juice and throw up.  Not that this has ever happened to me; I was just thinking about how gross that would be.

-MM

A Rubber Tub

I'm in a sentimental mood.  Here's why:

Lately I've been focusing on getting closets/drawers/bedrooms organized.  I want to have our house in order before school starts in August.  I've discovered some wonderful items (even Craig's Scheel's gift card that was lost long ago) and have been puttering around, willing myself to find a place for things.

Yesterday I started the long dreaded task of cleaning Murray's closet.  The majority of the contents include our Mom's files and memories that we tossed into a Rubber Maid tub when we cleaned out her house, to be dealt with when we felt a bit better.  I didn't know that three years later, I would still feel the same raw grief that I felt when she got sick, the morning she died, and the months after. 

Despite my sadness, I've had a lot of smiles and laughter.  Our Mom saved things that only a mother knows would be important someday.  My journals from high school (oh the shame), Maggie's ridiculous drawings, other items that Mom must have know that we would appreciate.  I'm catching a glimpse of the  quiet, gentle and committed woman that she was.  I found two of her four badges (my sister has the others) and I had to sit still and cry for a while.  That's the catch 22 of memories:  the good ones never fade, but the bad ones don't either.

So, while reminiscing in my shared childhood and adulthood with my sister, my Mom's motherhood, and life in general, I can say that it's been a good experience.  Healthy, cathartic.  It's not easy, but I'm determined to finish the project  - Mom always said, "Do things well and completely" - and so I will. 
 
But maybe tomorrow.  And with my sister. 
MM

Marriage = Teamwork

We all have things that we excel at and then, there are those other things that we could do a bit better.  For instance, when it comes to our household, DH is the picker-upper-organizer-put-things-in-their-place guy.  Myself, I'm the sanitizer-scrubber-make-sure-the-ants-stay-away guy.  Craig is also the do-the-laundry guy, but I'm the clean-clothes-putter-away-guy.  Our personalities work beautifully when we sync.  And when we do, we're an amazing team.  
There are times though, when we aren't on the same page.  Last week, I decided to clean the entry way.  Doing so, I shoved everything from it into the front porch and put back what we needed...and left the rest...in the porch.  Craig was sweet not to say anything and he still isn't pushing me about finishing the job I started.  I suppose it has to do something with the fact that he cleaned the truck and put the junk in tubs (that I had purchased to organize the porch stuff) and placed them on one of the couches.  At least his mess is contained and we can approach it when we have some time.  Besides, most of it is the boxes from my old office which I'm still struggling with the fact that I have to put away.  Sometimes, when I know that DH has a particularly busy travel schedule, I will even help with the mowing (this doesn't sound like a big deal, but our mower is self propelled and only has one speed - FAST - which means I'm literally running behind it and wheezing and sneezing the entire way).  Doing chores that will ease his load makes me feel as though I'm a contributor.

But when we go to Craig's parent's home, or the lake, we manage to stick together.  I may help with cooking or cleaning, but Craig is mowing, updating the computer, picking up dog remnants, washing the boat or dishes, and what have you.  My point is simple: even when we don't agree, it usually works out in the end.

This is one of the very many beautiful things about marriage; pray together, stay together.  Work together, stay together.  It just doesn't get any better. 

God bless our late, injured and active troops. 

One more thing:  Does anyone know how to transfer pictures from my phone to my blog?  I've tried, but it's not working.  Thanks in advance!

Murray-isms; the Latest

Oh, the things that must go on in a child's mind.  Sometimes Craig and I are so flabbergasted at his speech that we don't know how to respond.  Here are a few of latest comments from Murray:

"Dad!  I tooted.  Excuse me!"

"Mama, NO THANK YOU I DO NOT WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN!" (this was after an underwater dunk at swimming lessons.

Murray was gobbling pistachios as if it were his last meal.  Craig asked, "Murray, does Linsay feed you at her house (daycare)?"  To which he replied, "She feed me all day long, Dad". 

"Mom, where the train?"  "It's pulling freight cars to other places to drop off supplies, I replied."  OH, out west to Grandpa Doug?"

"Mama, I do NOT love the hiccups."

When we were at open skate yesterday, he adamantly declared "I LOVE TO SKATE MAMA"!  The background of this story lies in the fact that I couldn't find my figure skates, so I rented some, plus I was a bit rusty and Uncle Jon worked with the boys since Craig was out of commission and I just plain stink.

There are so many more funny tidbits, but it would take me a very long time to write them all.  I do think, that for posterity, it's important to have these things recorded somewhere.

Don't forget to let the kid in you come out once in a while.

Progress

Craig attended his first physical therapy appointment this morning and came home with a list of stretches to do twice daily.  The plan is to stretch the muscles around the broken vertebrae, and then next week, begin strengthening (hopefully) those muscles.  The next CT Scan is scheduled for February 9, at which time we hope to be done with doctors and therapists and get back to normal.  He is allowed to take his brace off for one hour/day, increasing time every other day.  Slow and steady wins the race.

There are some positive outcomes (as with anything negative that happens) to Craig's injury.  Since Craig broke his back, I've learned how to jump-start a car (Peace Garden Mama and I accomplished this as a team, more to come on that story), I'm navigating the icy roads like a pro, today I ran the snow blower, and tonight I have to fill in as fry cook helping the Sons of the American Legion.  I like this feeling of independence.  I'm ready for more!

No Shirt, No Work

On the ride home this evening, Murray pointed out where Craig works and the following discussion ensued:

Murray:     "Mama, Dad not at work?"
Me:          "No, Dad got hurt, remember?"
Murray:    "Oh, he fall off roof.  He can't go to work 'cause he no shirt to put on." (insert silent laughter here). 
Me:          "Why doesn't daddy have a shirt?"
Murray:    "Because he fell off the roof, MOM!"

 After a lengthy discussion about getting hurt and getting dressed, we walked in the door and Murray cried, "DAD, you don't have a shirt but you can do dishes!"  Oh, be still my heart.  My son gets it. 

I do my best to make sure that my husband is clothed, but he gets extremely hot while wearing his brace, so he wears a cotton tank underneath that the prosthetics company provided, and nothing over the brace.  

For Heaven's sake.  The boy is three years old.  Where does he come up with his chatter? Peace Garden Mama has precious stories about her son's hysterical dialog and points out that we will miss these words and ideas before we know it.

Embrace the innocence!
P.S.  Craig biggest concern is that he can't take Murray to open skate, as he starts MYH Tots in January.  Volunteers needed!  I'll be on the ice too, but I'm afraid my figure skating isn't up to teaching a three-year-old.

Progress

It's Sunday afternoon, and Craig and I are watching the Vikings; finally a fun game to watch.

Craig is hanging in there, but I fear what boredom will do to him.  Last night he couldn't sleep, so he sent me to the couch.  It apparently didn't help, because he's tired today.  He's also getting a tad ornery, but I can't blame him.  It must be terrible to be stuck on the couch or in bed all day for this long (and he still has at least another week).  He told me today that his goal was to have his brace off by January 9th, because that's when Murray's first hockey season begins.  I wanted to tell him that even if his brace is off by then, he won't be taking to the ice any time soon.  I just didn't want to dash his hopes; anything is possible.

In the mean time, I'm attempting to keep up with the housework, but hit I a road bump on Thursday night.  For some reason strange reason, my right calf spasmed and I could hardly walk for two days.  It's better now, though a little sore, but at least I'm functional again.  I'm thinking it was probably nerves.  So it seems that with every step forward, I take two back.  My sister walked in the door yesterday and said, "What happened to your house?  You write about cleaning all the time!"  I've gotten to the point of realizing that our home isn't going to be perfect any time soon, or maybe ever.  It's sanitary, but there is just "stuff" everywhere.  So, if you come over for a visit, I'm apologizing in advance now.

Anyway, we're going to finish watching the Vikings and then it's off to a family dinner, which I'm looking forward to.  Craig hasn't been out of the house since the accident, and though he would love to join us, he's home bound.  Thanks to the H family in advance for bringing dinner tonight.

Tomorrow is my first day of training at what will become my new job in January.  I'm very excited!

Happy Sunday, Monday will be here before we know it.

Clark Griswold - An Update

First of all, a HUGE thank you to our friends and family for the support.  Your thoughts and prayers mean the world.

I arrived at the hospital this morning to find a weary Craig and the news that he would not be released today.  We hope for tomorrow, but it could be Wednesday.  The L1 vertebrae is broken, and 30% compressed on one side (he shrunk).  This means that he'll wear a brace for 4-6 weeks; hopefully avoiding any surgery.  He was measured by the nice man from Hangar, and are praying that the that the brace will arrive tomorrow.  When we get home, he will need to be flat on his back for two weeks, after which time he hopes to back to work.  He will only be allowed to sit up for 45 minutes at a time, and then will either stand up or lie down (flat again).  I think I'll get him a cot for his office for Christmas.

I left him in the good hands of the Fink's and hope to get some housework done so that I will be organized for his homecoming.  He was in good spirits (laughter, hydrocodone and strong muscle relaxers did the trick) when I left and now I hope he'll nap for awhile. 

In all of the hoopla last night, Troy took Murray home so I could be with Craig.  Stef had us in fits of laughter recalling the events of the evening.  Apparently, he walked in the door, took his coat off, looked at Stef with a deadpan expression and said, "My Dad fell off the roof.  They might shoot him."  Stef changed the subject and they did the laundry.  Apparently we need to have some discussion about guns.  We hope to have him visit the hospital this evening, depending on how the day goes.

Again, thank you to everyone for offers of help and support.  I'm as calm as I am because his injuries could have been so much worse, and I'm thankful that he will prevail. 

Slippery Slopes

Please note:  If this post sounds a bit hysterical, it's because I am.  Humor me, please.

Last weekend, before the snow hit, Craig and I hung the Christmas lights on the house.  All went pretty well, except that when he got to the peak of the roof, he slipped and was hanging from the gutter.  Luckily, I was able to brace us both and helped him down before we both hit payment.  After the scare, I proclaimed that there would not be lights this year.  He agreed.

We had a very nice holiday, though we missed my family members.  I even went black Friday shopping and survived with only a scuffle and a bruised shin.

Murray has been asking to build a snowman ever since the first dusting of the hateful white stuff.  Today, it was finally sticky enough to go out and build the best snowman on the block.  The three of us were rolling snow into different sized balls, when Craig asked me if he should finish the lights.  I said no, but Murray replied with an enthusiastic yay!  So Craig climbed the ladder and not 2 minutes later, I heard an expletive and looked over to watch him twisting in the air from twelve feet above, and landing in a heap.  As terrified as I was, I assumed he had the wind knocked out of him and would be fine when he caught his breath.  Three minutes later, that was clearly not the case.  He refused medical attention and Craig being Craig, insisted we finish the damn snowman while he laid in the snow in agony.  I finally coaxed him out of the heap and into the house, when he promptly asked for pain meds(the man won't even take an aspirin).  That was when I decided this was extremely serious and called Troy and Stef, followed by  911.  The ambulance was here in less time than it took me to call them, and off he went on a stretcher, away from his hysterical wife and in enormous pain.  The entire time, I was a hot mess and Murray was asking Troy if the Paramedics were going to shoot him (too much tv, I say). 

Craig spiked a fever at the hospital, and after X-rays and a C.A.T. Scan were performed, it was determined that indeed, his back was broken.  The L7 was the vertebrae in trouble.  Our hopes are that he will be in a brace for 3-4 months, but surgery could still be required.  We'll know more in the morning when the specialist arrives.

In the mean time, he's whacked on pain meds and going to be knocked out most of the night (the doctor said the pain would get worse).  I am home with the dogs, and Murray is with family so that I am free to head to the hospital again after a few hours sleep.

Please pray for him, or if you aren't the praying type, positive vibes sent our way would be appreciated.  I'll update tomorrow.  Have I told you that I hate snow?

Love you honey - see you soon.

L.O.V.E

Last night when you arrived home, you sat down next to me and made me feel better. We bundled up and watched the stars while you held your hand in mine.

You snuggled up to me in the wee hours of the morning and held me tight, just when I need you most.

Before I went to work today, you gave me a kiss and a smile and said, "have a good day."

When I see you again, it will be the very best part of my day.

This is motherhood. This is pure love.

Grandma Kate and the M&M

When I was growing up, store-bought costumes were unheard of. Mom would spend evenings and free time sewing everything from Minnie Mouse to a very professional looking Nurse costume. Sometimes, she would get stuck, or run out of time. Though we lived 10 hours away, Grandma Kate would always come to the rescue; whipping up the last piece for the perfect costume and popping it in the mail.

The first two years of Murray's life, we didn't go trick-or-treating, instead choosing to stay home and pass out candy to the neigborhood kids. Last year, I gave in and purchased a pretty cute Candy Corn costume. This year, though, I just couldn't bear the thought of him wearing a store-bought costume (after all, it's tradition in my family to wear homemade). I did some research, picked out an idea, purchased my materials, called my Grandma for instruction, took a deep breath, and sat down to begin my project. After approximately 30 seconds of staring at the copious amount of fabric I'd purchased, I picked up the phone and and invited myself to Grandma's house so that she could "help" me.

I should preface this with the fact the my Grandmother is a brilliant seamstress (and multi-talented too). She can create clothing that would make Ralph Lauren weep with envy. I arrived on her doorstep with all of the materials I thought we'd need, but without a pattern. She quickly fashioned one out of newspaper, we pinned it on my fabric, and I (sloppily) cut it out. Then I basted the seams (kind of), and that is where I stopped working and started watching. In no time at all, Grandma had created this:

This is not a great picture, because of the way Murray is standing (it looks like he has wings). In reality, he's dressed in white pants, a white turtleneck (the white hat and gloves will come later). On top of all that, is a perfectly round, red M&M in soft fleece (did I mention she free-handed the "M"?). I hope to get some better pictures on the big day. Here we are heading out the door:

Murray acting the part of photographer:

When all is said and done, I can thread a needle, but the buck stops there. Thank goodness for Grandma Kate; Murray probably would be at home passing out candy to the other kids had she not saved my behind. I guess sewing isn't like riding a bike; it's been too long since seventh-grade home economics class. I better get started on next year's costume. . .

Dear Mom, It's Me, Marie

Warning: This is a pretty maudlin post, so if you aren't in the mood to feel down or cry, don't read it. Some may say that it's inappropriate, but it's my blog, and my blog is my therapy, so I'm posting it anyway.


Dear Mom, it's me, Ree,

I woke up this morning thinking of you; wishing that I could feel your arms around me just one more time. Oh, how I would give anything for a hug and a conversation. Since I couldn't speak to you, I did what you've always told us to do when we're far apart: I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended it was you. And then I pondered how things would be different if you were still here. If Heaven had an airline, I would be on the next flight. I pose the following questions knowing that you can't answer me in person, but with the faith that you are answering in spirit.

What would you have done when Murray woke up at 5:30am this morning demanding to watch a movie? (we said no)

How would you have reacted when he threw an enormous temper tantrum when I said "no"? Lord knows, you've dealt with more than your fair share of tantrums when Maggie was Murray's age and when I was Maggie's (current) age. Ha! (we took the dvd player away and let him cry it out)


What would you say if I asked you how to make french dips for the millionth time? We're craving them and although you wrote the recipe for me, it would be so much easier just to call you. (You'd laugh and patiently explain every step and detail)

Did you know that our phone bill has decreased by 50% since November 3, 2007? I miss our multiple daily chats more than I could ever have imagined. (although Craig used to complain, even he wishes our phone bill was high again)


What would you tell me to do if I called and said that I'm sad? (you would probably tell me to look around and find something, anything, to be happy about, even if it's the dead of winter)

What would you say to Murray if you could speak to him? (my guess is that you would tell him how much you love him and you would teach him things that only Grandma's can)


What would you say to Craig if you could speak to him? (I think you'd tell him that he's doing a fine job as a husband and father and that you are proud of him)

What would you say if you could speak to Mags? (OH, so many things, but mostly how proud of her you are and that she's turned into a fabulous woman)


Do you visit us in our dreams? (I think so)

What's Heaven like? How's God? How's Mary? (I don't have an answer for this one, but my guess is that everyone up there is watching out for you, for us, for our loved ones)

I have so many more questions, but I think you get the idea, Mom. How would we all be different if you hadn't gotten sick? I heard a quote the other day: "God makes no mistakes." It struck me dumb because even though I'm horrified that you're gone, I have to keep reminding myself that you really aren't gone, that you are with Him.

In a conversation with Grandma Kate while I was in labor with Murray, I started to cry and asked how I could possibly be a good mom without your help. Her answer was simple. She said, "Marie, she's already taught you to be a mom; by raising you!" So though your life was infinitely too short, I am so blessed to have had you for the time that I did. We all are.

I love you mom.