Eat-Sleep-Love | Maryland DC & Virginia Sleep Coach, Baby Planner, Maternity & Child Consultant

Maternity & Parenting Center

Time to Fall Back!

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Can you believe it?  It is time to “Fall Back”…this Sunday, November 3, 2013, at 2:00 am is the end of Daylight Savings Time as we all move our clocks back 1 hour.  Many parents hate Daylight Savings Time for one simple reason…it can wreak havoc on your child’s sleep schedule!  While most of us remember the days of falling back giving us an extra hour of sleep, with children, it often feels that we lose an hour of sleep!

So, how does “Falling Back” impact our child’s scheduling?  When we set our clocks back one hour, in theory we gain an hour of sleep because 2:00 am suddenly becomes 1:00 am…which means it is an extra hour until our regularly scheduled wake-up time!  Unfortunately, most of our children cannot tell time yet.  This means that they will continue to wake up when their bodies believe it is wake-up time, not when the clock says it is wake-up time…a full hour earlier than we would like.  In fact, our children may be operating a full hour earlier all day long; they may be hungrier for meals earlier, or ready for bed earlier as well.

What can we do?  If our children typically stay up “too late,” now is a great time to make a shift.  Put them to bed a full hour earlier Sunday night (which will feel like the same time to them), and use the time change to your advantage!  For most of us, however, we need to slowly shift our children into the new time by gradually shifting their entire schedule an hour later.  Since we are only 5 days out, I recommend the following:

1.  On Thursday morning, begin shifting your child’s schedule 15 minutes later all day.  Delay the start of their day by 15 minutes, push their meals and naps (and activities if you can) 15 minutes later than usual, and put them to bed 15 minutes later.
2.  On Friday morning, begin shifting your child’s schedule ANOTHER 15 minutes later all day (30 minutes later than usual).
3.  On Saturday morning, begin shifting your child’s schedule ANOTHER 15 minutes later all day (45 minutes later than usual). 
4.  On Sunday morning, fresh with the new time change, get back on track with your usual schedule (which will, in fact, be 1 hour later than usual).  Stick with it…even if your child is waking a bit earlier, or hungrier or wanting to nap or go to bed earlier, try to keep them on target with your usual schedule and give their clocks time to adjust.

What can you do to delay your children if they are waking earlier in the morning?  For children over 2, you can use a clock that turns colors to signify when it is time to wake up.  Simply push the clock 15 minutes later each day, then back on track once the time change hits.  Tell your children that they cannot begin their day before the clock changes, and enforce it.  For children under 2, if they wake early and happy, just let them sit in their crib for the extra time, and delay their first feed of the day.  This may be a bit more challenging for children under 6 months, but do your best to shift their first feed of the day a bit later each day, taking more time than the 4 days if you need it.  If your child wakes unhappy or calling for you, feel free to go and respond (tell him/her it isn’t time to wake up yet, or even sit in the room if you feel it is necessary)…but keep your child in bed for the extra time, save your “good mornings” and flipping lights on for 15 minutes later than usual, and delay the first feed/breakfast every day until the shift in their internal clocks takes place.

Some children do adjust really well, while others may seem a bit off schedule for 1-2 weeks.  Exposing your child to sunlight for at least 20 minutes in the morning (around 10 or 11 am) will help adjust his/her clock, and making sure to pay attention to all aspects of the schedule – food, sleep, and activities – will help get you back on track quickly!

Nighttime Potty Training

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Last night was a big night in our household…my baby, who is now 3 years and 3 months old, slept in underwear for the first time!  AND she kept her underwear and bed dry!  Momentous, right?  I’m a little bit teary thinking we might be completely finished with diapers for my little baby…although she isn’t too young to still do adorable things like sneak out of bed and try sleeping at the top of the stairwell to wait for me (picture to the left – taken last week).

So, are you wondering, “How did you night train your daughter?”  Well…I didn’t!  If you had asked me five weeks ago, I would have told you she was years away from staying dry overnight.  In fact, I don’t even think she had yet had a nap when she kept her diaper dry.  The truth is, we really cannot night train our children.  It is mostly a biological function…they have to be old enough, their bladders have to be large enough, and they have to sleep deeply enough for their kidneys to quiet and reduce urine production.

What changed for us?  I think a variety of factors.  First, we started to discuss staying dry with her.  Initially, we simply talked about the goal of keeping her diaper dry and peeing in the potty before nap and right when she woke up.  We even mentioned that she could stop wearing diapers and wear her favorite underwear to bed when she kept her diaper dry.  If her diaper was wet, sometimes we would ask if she peed in her sleep or when she woke up.  On occasion, I would ask her why she chose to pee in her diaper when she woke up, but usually I just got the snarky responses of “well, I just did” or “because I like to do it.”  For the most part, we simply encouraged her to keep it dry.  Like most older children, peeing in a diaper often leads to leaks…and when her bed, or different blankets or stuffed animals or even books, got wet, we would talk about the mess and how we have to clean it up, and maybe next time if she peed in the potty, we wouldn’t have such a mess to clean up!  We never did this with any sense of anger or punishment…it was matter of fact:  “Oh no!  Your diaper overflowed…looks like we have to clean up again today.  Let’s see what got wet…your lovey?  Well, we’ll have to wash her – she may not be dry in time for bedtime tonight.”

Much to our surprise, she suddenly started to stay dry for naps about three or four weeks ago.  We made a big deal out of checking to see if it was dry every day, and we continued to celebrate each and every time it was dry.  We used positive reinforcement such as “You did it!” and “Aren’t you proud of yourself?” to help her see what she had accomplished.  A few times we let her sleep in underwear, but she seemed to prefer having a diaper.  Then, about three weeks ago, we had a night when her diaper was dry overnight!  We were shocked.  We celebrated and talked about almost being ready to sleep without a diaper.  About two weeks ago, she started to keep her diaper dry night after night.  I actually started to expect a dry diaper from her!

And then…Sunday morning.  My daughter woke up, and once again, I checked her diaper.  It was dry!  But she told me she had peed all over her bed.  When I touched her pajamas and checked her bed, everything was urine-soaked.  A mystery, right?  I checked to see if somehow she could have peed out the diaper, but her pajama bottoms were dry.  I looked to see if she had changed her own diaper…but there was no evidence of a wet diaper anywhere.  I spent hours on and off asking my daughter questions (and, like every good parent, seeking suggestions from my friends on Facebook)…and wondering if I would ever get an answer that helped me solve the mystery.

Me:  “How did the pee get in your bed?” M: “Well, it just got there when I peed.”
Me:  “Did you pee through a different diaper?”  M:  “No, mommy, pee comes through my vagina.”
Me:  “Did you pee in your sleep or after you woke up?”  M:  “I sleep in my bed and there is pee there.”
Me:  “Did you take your diaper off and pee in your bed?”  M:  “Yes!  That is what I did.”
Me:  “Wait…you peed in your bed on purpose?”  M:  “Yes!  I wanted to keep my diaper dry.”
Me: (stunned) “Why didn’t you go pee in the potty?”  M:  “Well, I just didn’t.”
(repeating this question often throughout the day…)  M:  “I peed on my chuck pad – chuck pads are for peeing on!”

Aha!  Mystery solved.  In our house, we have reusable “chuck” pads…these are absorbent pads with a backer that resists urine/moisture passing through.  We had gotten them from the hospital a long time ago, and initially used them when potty training our kids.  When I was pregnant and getting close to my due date, I always sat on one in case my water broke!  We usually have one or two chuck pads under the kids’ sheets in case of an accident.  On Saturday, my daughter found one and asked to put it on top of her sheet and sleep on it.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Turned out…she woke up in the morning, saw the chuck pad, and decided it meant it was okay to pee on it!  I quickly dispelled that notion, and decided that she should no longer have a chuck pad on top of her sheet.

Luckily, my daughter kept her diaper dry on Sunday and Monday.  Last night, she asked to sleep in underwear, and I agreed, fairly certain I would be washing everything this morning.  Much to my relief, her underwear was dry this morning (and her bed)!  I am not certain that she is completely night trained yet (or that she will be reliable any time soon), but it is a start. 

When should a child be dry overnight?  For some children, it can be as young as 2 years of age (I’ve heard tale of even younger than that).  For others, it may be about 5 years old.  From a medical perspective, inability to stay dry overnight is not considered “bedwetting” or any kind of a medical problem or concern before they are 5-6 years of age.

My suggestion?  Don’t pressure or punish your child about being wet overnight.  Have open discussions about keeping the bed dry or using the potty.  If they really do not seem to be ready, don’t worry about it.  Celebrate the dry diapers when they happen.  When you see that your child is consistently dry for about 1-2 weeks, then try allowing him/her to sleep in underwear.

If your child is snoring, mouth breathing, or is soaking through diapers and bed sheets on a nightly basis, this *could* be a warning flag for a medical sleep issue – discuss it with your pediatrician!

What is a Birth Plan, and Do I Need One?

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Have you ever imagine your baby’s “birth” day…how you would like it to go, meeting your little one for the first time, how it should proceed?  Or perhaps you are scared about birth, and you would rather not think about it to avoid the panic?  Either way, having a birth plan in place can help make sure that you have some choices and input on this momentous day.

A birth plan is really quite simple…it is an opportunity for you to lay out and communicate your preferences about birth!  Everything from room environment, to clothing you will wear, medical interventions you would like to accept or decline, circumcision preferences, administration of vaccinations and medication, breastfeeding initiation, people you want present, how you want the placenta delivered, when to cut the cord (and who should cut the cord), and the positioning and techniques you would like to use.  A birth plan is also an opportunity for you to spell out preferences if things do not go exactly as planned (in the event of an emergency c-section).  In my opinion, every woman giving birth should have a birth plan.

Indeed, many people think “I am having a scheduled c-section, why do I need a birth plan?”  Even with a c-section, there are still numerous opportunities for you to express your preferences.  More and more, hospitals are looking to make c-sections more mother-baby friendly.  Did you know that there are also ways to make a c-section experience feel a bit more like a vaginal birth experience?  You can request that the baby be placed on your chest for skin-to-skin time immediately following delivery and while they are closing you up, that you and your baby are not separated, you may request that your partner or spouse initiate skin-to-skin contact if you are unavailable, you may opt to wait for labor to start before going to the hospital for your c-section, you may request music in the room, you may limit unnecessary medical staff presence in the room, you may request more than one person to be in the delivery room with you, you may delay eye drops and vaccinations after birth, and/or you may request that they not suction your baby’s mouth/airway unless medically necessary.  Early initiation of breastfeeding is often critical with c-sections – recent studies have shown that c-sections are one of the biggest barriers to breastfeeding.  Developing a plan for early skin-to-skin contact and the initiation of the “magical hour” after birth, indicating your preference to keep your baby with you after the procedure, and potentially even hand expressing colostrum prior to birth for early initiation of breastfeeding can all help reduce the impact of c-sections on breastfeeding.

So, what should be in a birth plan?  Birth plans can be short and simple, or long and detailed.  For my clients, I generally include the following:

  • Environment (room, people, photography, staff, clothing)
  • Labor (medical interventions, induction/labor stimulation, IVs, pain management, food, movement, labor tools)
  • Birthing (positions, techniques, use of mirrors for viewing, partners role in catching)
  • C-section preferences (for scheduled or in the event of an emergency)
  • Cord (who will cut, when)
  • Placenta (when/how it is delivered, what to do with it)
  • Post-partum (for both baby and mother – location, feeding, medications/tests, circumcision)

There are many do it yourself birth plans out there!  If you would like specific help in constructing your birth plan or understanding all the options and how they might impact you, please feel free to contact me for assistance!

Time to Honor ALL Kinds of Moms

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Mother’s Day…a time of abounding joy, a celebration of one of the most precious gifts in life – a relationship between a mother and her children.  Today is the day when congratulations, and well-wishes, and pictures of loving families and beautiful gifts are posted everywhere to spread the cheer and honor motherhood.  But, amidst the excitement and cards and ads and wonder, it is easy to forget that this is a holiday that is tinged with sadness and loss for many…and I think it is time to acknowledge that grief.  It isn’t the popular thing to discuss on Mother’s Day, but here goes.
It is time to honor those of us struggling with infertility and longing to be moms, who are reminded today of the emptiness that we feel as we wonder if our time will ever come.  It is time to give a nod to those of us who have lost moms or those like moms to us, who are reminded of that profound loss as we rejoice in our happy memories we wish we could continue to build.  It is time to observe a moment of silence for those of us who have lost their children, who find themselves longing to celebrate that special bond, but unsure how to do that with empty arms. It is time to grant some solace to those of us who have difficult and complicated relationships with our mothers, who try to honor their mothers without discounting feelings of anger, frustration or disappointment.

To be honest, I lived for many years in sheltered oblivion, seeing the wonder of Mother’s Day through my rose-colored glasses.  Why not?  I never had any reason to think of sadness until I was struggling with infertility.  I remember the pain of my first Mother’s Day as I longed to be a mother, wondering if and how it would ever happen for us.  I spent the day looking around at all the happy families, each smile a beautiful but stabbing reminder of what I feared I might never have.  I tried to focus on celebrating my mother, but I was pained as I wondered if I would ever be so lucky as to have a relationship of my own to honor one day.

It was Mother’s Day 2008 when I first got a taste of the privilege of celebrating Mother’s Day as a mother…I was almost 7 weeks pregnant with my first child, Micah.  I remember the joy, and excitement that rushed over me each and every time I whispered “I’m going to be a mommy!”  I could barely contain my excitement as I shared the news of our pregnancy with my family, and I was excited to think that I, too, could partake in the holiday as a “mommy-to-be.”  Over and over, the phrase “NEXT YEAR I’ll finally be a MOM” resounded its chorus in my head…but I never forgot that I was part of a community of women who were not yet lucky enough to be shouting that refrain with me.  

I celebrated my very first Mother’s Day as a mom in 2009.  I was brimming with love and excitement that day, to finally celebrate being a mom, a title I fought so hard to claim.  I remember thinking that one day soon, I would hear my son call me “Mama” for the first time, and I thought of all the wonderful years we had ahead together.  I remember sitting around my parents’ house and basking in the knowledge that I finally had that relationship I so desperately craved…I was somebody’s MOM.  I was still actively involved in the infertility community, and when I saw posts of sadness from those mommies-in-waiting, I could again see some tarnish around the edges of Mother’s Day.  My joy was not enough to eclipse the sadness I felt for those who were still waiting to cross that bridge into motherhood, wondering when and how it would happen.  That weekend, I also had a friend give birth for the first time…only to lose her daughter a few short days later.  A glaring reminder again about the sadness that can mark such a beautiful celebration.

Mother’s Day 2010 was perhaps the best Mother’s Day I’ve ever experienced…my whole family gathered at my parents’ house to make brunch and celebrate together.  I was expecting my second child, the food was delicious, and we all simply enjoyed being together.  How could the day be any more perfect?  We had lost my grandmother a few months before at the ripe old age of 97, so it was the first time my mother was celebrating Mother’s Day without HER mother…ironic that I did not truly appreciate the significance of her loss that day.  We took a family photo to commemorate the perfect day, and we sat around planning trips for the summer.  Our gift to my mom that year was a certificate for a set of professional family photos to be taken after my daughter, Maya was born.  Little did I know, that day was our last perfect day together.  Two short weeks later, my mother got sick.  She was eventually diagnosed with brain cancer, a glioblastoma multiforme (GBM), and she died 6 months later, almost to the day.  We never did get to take those family photos we promised her.
After I lost my mother, someone recommended I read a book called Motherless Daughters.  I’m certain the book is a wonderful resource…but I never could move beyond the title.  Motherless Daughters. I think I object to the term on principle.  I’m not a motherless daughter…I have a mother.  Although I cannot see her or touch her, she is here with me, every minute of every single day.  I carry her with me, I hear her voice in my head, and I share her wisdom and life lessons with my children.  Maybe that is another lesson in Mother’s Day – it is a time to honor those we carry with us, and embrace their influence on our lives.  Before she died, my mother was listening to an audiobook of Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie. It made her re-think death and dying, and my mother said to me that after she died, she hoped that Morrie was right, and that she was somewhere out there, floating in the ether, surrounding us, watching us, loving us, and sharing our joy.  I hope so, too.

Last year was my first mother’s day without my mom, but this year was the first in many, many years that we did not celebrate the holiday as an extended family.  Nevertheless, I’ve had a good Mother’s Day.  On Friday, Micah came running home from school, bursting with excitement to give me the gift he made for me – a picture frame from a CD jewel case, propped up with a popsicle stick, decorated with foam sticker shapes, and a gorgeous photo of him in the center.  What could be better?  Elliot bought me a pair of earrings “from the kids” – a pair of trees, a symbol of life and family.  We ate breakfast together, this morning, we went shopping at Costco, and we stopped at the cemetery to visit my mother. 
Her headstone is finally in place…we are not officially having the unveiling for another few weeks, but it was the first time I was over her marked grave.  We brought a few kibbles of dog food for Nugget (my dog whose ashes are buried with my mother), and we cut fresh flowers to place in a vase for my mother.  I needed to be close to her…but hated that I could not touch or see her.  
Once again, it was a sunny day, and I was struck by the beauty of our surroundings juxtaposed against the sobriety of the location.  The children were too young to understand the full weight of where we were…so they smiled and laughed and played.  My mother would have loved that!
Tonight, we enjoyed a quiet dinner at home.  We had planned a dinner out, but we ran late all day, and opted to simplify.  Today I am remembering my mother, and trying to honor her life and our relationship by enjoying my children, and trusting that she is out there in the ether, celebrating, too.

So, today I wish everyone a joyous and happy Mother’s Day.  But I ask that we not forget that even this precious holiday is tempered by sadness, and I hope that we all take a moment to respect the range of mother relationships that we should honor today:  mothers-in-waiting, mothers-to-be, mothers-of-loss, children-of-loss, mothers, grandmothers, and mother figures.  Mother’s Day IS for all of us. 

Bedtime Ritual

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In my last post, I shared with you a little about our morning rituals, so I am sure you will not be surprised to hear that we have bedtime rituals, too.Have you ever told your toddler it is time to go to bed, and heard the immediate “NO!” response (or worse, had the temper tantrums start)?  Yes, we’ve all been there…and many parents begin to fear starting the bedtime routine because of the push back.  Why is it that toddlers resist bedtime?  And what can we do to make the process easier?

Tonight, I was sitting around and playing with my two children after dinner (my husband was out of town).  My son, Micah, was feeling musical, so he was performing a concert for us.  We go to classes at Kidville, and he just loves the “Rockin’ Railroad” band (previously called the Little Maestros Band).  He takes out his guitar, and he strums and sings, jumping around and performing.  My daughter, Maya, is starting to become a fantastic backup singer – and Micah usually has her playing the keyboards.  Here are a few videos of the musical stylings of my son….


About ten minutes before bedtime, I told Micah one more song, and then we were going to clean up and go upstairs for bed.  He sang his song, I got the kids’ medications together, and we started our nighttime rituals.  When I announced it was bedtime, Micah immediately said “No, Mommy, you forgot – I get 2 more minutes.”  He was right…I flicked the lights, and I said “2 minutes until bedtime!”  He let out a big grin, and we sang the clean-up song to put everything back together.  I then announced “Okay, children, time to go to bed!”  My daughter, Maya, started to protest, so I immediately began to sing our nighttime songs.  First up…a song I like to call “It’s Night-Night Time.”  Here are the words (I actually stole the tune from a religious song we sing called “Shavua tov” – “A Good Week):

It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time.

It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time,
It’s night-night time.

 
I immediately launched into our next nighttime song – to the tune of London Bridge:

It’s time to go upstairs to sleep, upstairs to sleep, upstairs to sleep.
It’s time to go upstairs to sleep, night, night, night-night.

Okay – I never said my songs were creative…but they work!  Tonight, when my protesting almost 2 year old heard the song, she immediately grinned, and ran around the room grabbing her things for bedtime (a book and her doll).  She made a beeline for the stairs, and waited for me at the bottom until I launched into the London Bridge song.  She climbed the stairs, and ran over to her room to set up her book in the chair for bedtime.  My son ran straight for the potty, took his clothes off, and peed in the potty.  If it is a bath night, the kids hop in the tub, and we wash up…but luckily tonight was not a bath night.  Both children returned to Maya’s room.  Micah sat on the chair and read her book while I put on her pajamas.

Normally, my husband grabs my son’s pajamas and starts getting him ready at the same time.  We read the two kids a quick story, put Maya in her crib, turn off the light, and the 3 of us sing “You are my Sunshine”and close her door.  We then head into Micah’s room, finish getting him ready, put him in his bed (usually read another quick story), tuck him in and give him a kiss, and sing a second round of “You are my Sunshine.”  We tell him we love him, and head back downstairs.

As every teacher and child development expert will say, toddlers have a hard time transitioning – moving from one activity to the next.  Schools handle this challenge by building transitions into their schedule – they use routine charts to let children know the order of activities throughout the course of school, and they frequently remind children where they are in the order of activities and what is coming up next.  Teachers often give “2 minute warnings” and flicker the lights to let children know that it is time to start wrapping up one activity and get ready to move on to the next.  Many preschools often use song to help trigger certain behaviors in children (almost every teacher has a clean-up song, and a hello song, and a goodbye song).

I think these same principles apply to bedtime.  Children crave the predictability of routines, they need time to transition, and a good song never hurts either!  Many parents create a picture-based routine chart – you can simply take a ribbon, and put velcro dots on it.  You can buy cute little frames, or simple plastic frames, and put the other half of the velcro dot on the back of the frame.  Take pictures (or make drawings) and every morning, attach pictures representing your daily activities.  As you transition throughout the day, help your children see where you are in your schedule!  Later this week, I’ll post a step-by-step tutorial on how to make a routine chart.

In our household, we review upcoming activities for our children.  At dinner, we say “we are going to eat dinner, and then after dinner we’ll play downstairs, and then it will be night-night time.”  As dinner is wrapping up, I again say “let’s go downstairs to play, and then we’ll go upstairs for night-night time.”  When we are nearing bedtime (within 10-15 minutes), I will tell my children this is the last ___ (last game, last ride, last round of play), give them a 2 minute warning and tell them the next activity, and we love to use songs as transitions.  If you struggle with nighttime battles, consider implementing some of these techniques to ease transitions for your toddler.  Remember, the first time or two you introduce new patterns, it does not seem like it is becoming easier.  It is the process of establishing new patterns and routines, and the consistency over time that create the triggers and responses for your children.  Give the changes 2-4 weeks to become familiar and ingrained.

A little morning ritual

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Uhhh.  Thump, bump, bounce.  Fwoop.  Zip.  Rip, rip, clunk!  Pit-pat-pit-pat.  Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle, click!  


For the past few months, as the clock reaches 7:15 am, those sounds signal the start of my day.  My 3 year old son, Micah, wakes up, stretches, moves around a bit in his bed (occasionally talking to himself), then sits up.  He crawls to the edge of his bed, slides off the side, then slowly stops and looks around to get his bearings.  I know his routine not just simply from picturing him in my head as I hear each sound, but also because I often love to watch him over the video monitor.  He quickly unzips his pajamas, rips off his diaper and throws it in the garbage before padding down the hall to our bedroom, little footsteps quietly echoing through the house.  He carefully turns the handle and pops the door open, and greets me with a beautiful grin as he softly announces “Good morning, Mommy, I awake!”  


(complete with Mr. Potato Head ears)



Morning rituals are a critical component to sleep – they help children differentiate between night and day, simply by reading body language and behavior.  I have never been a morning person, but I truly love our morning rituals.  While I still groan at the thought that it is time to wake up and start my day, I have to admit, the feeling is fleeting now, pushed aside by the beautiful, grinning, boyish face that greets me each morning.  My joy increases as he bounds across the room and crawls up into bed, launching himself at me for a huge morning hug and kiss before settling down next to me for a snuggle while we wait for his sister to wake up.  Sometimes we turn on Sesame Street, but mostly, I like to sit and cuddle for a bit before launching my day.



Usually, right around 7:45, my younger daughter, Maya, joins the fray.  She usually makes a quiet gasping sound, starts to babble a bit (or calls out “Mommy!”), and for good measure begins to bang her feet on the wall.  I don’t even need a monitor for her…I know she is awake when the walls begin to rattle.  I head on in to get her (sometimes with Micah in tow), and I say “Good morning, sunshine!  I’m so happy to see you!”  Maya now responds and says “Good morning, Mommy.”  I usually stand by the side of her crib for a few minutes, and we play a game of sorts as she hides from me while I try to convince her to stand up so I can lift her out of the crib.  

When she is ready, she stands and collects her pacis, her book, her lovey, and occasionally her baby doll, and I carry the entire menagerie to the changing table.  If I send my husband in, Maya tends to start yelling “Not you!!” at him, so for now, morning wake up is usually all me.  I change Maya’s diaper (and she instructs me as to which diaper she would like to wear and whether or not she would like diaper cream), and we pick out an outfit for the day.  We then walk over to the crib, leave her pacis and lovey there for later and say “bye, bye” to them.  Maya then usually says “I go see Daddy, Micah and puppy CC,” so we head back to the bedroom to say good morning to everyone.  A few moments later, we gather together and head downstairs.


Micah usually likes to play (or beg for the tv or iPad) first thing in the morning, but Maya likes to get her sippy cup of milk and sit at the kitchen counter in a chair to help me make breakfast.  I negotiate with the children about breakfast (Micah yells “eggs!” while Maya yells “not eggs, not eggs!” until I announce something profound like “French toast it is!” – which occasionally send them both into fits of hysterics).  I do my best to keep a general order to our morning…breakfast, play time, getting dressed, departure for school/babysitter/activities.  I tell them our plans for the day to help them prepare and transition, and I give them 2 minute warnings before we end each phase and move on to the next.  I often feel as if I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off as I prepare breakfast, get my husband to walk the dog, pull lunch together, dress the children, shower and dress myself, wrangle the dog, clean up from breakfast while simultaneously juggling a few client calls, checking email and responding to inquiries.


Without a doubt, our rituals have developed and evolved over time…as my children grow older, our routines expand to embrace their contributions as well.  I try to be consistent from day to day, because the more the routine is predictable, the more my children cooperate.  Yes, I still struggle to get us all fed, dressed, organized and out the door on time every morning. But I wouldn’t trade our morning rituals, the smiles, the grins, and yes, even the tears for anything.  Well, perhaps I’d trade the tears.

Announcement – New Q&A Calls!!

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I am pleased to announce that I will now be offering regular Q&A calls!  The calls will last 1 hour, and will be limited to 4 people on each call.  Each participant will have a 15 minute block of time to ask their questions, and I will provide answers.  All of the participants will be present for the entire hour and will be able to learn and gather additional information from the other participants on the call.  The cost for these calls will be $25.

Our first call is scheduled on Monday, January 30, 2012 from 1:00 pm – 2:00 pm ET.  To celebrate this new service, I am offering a $5 discount to participants on the first call!  Click here to RSVP and reserve your spot now!!

Mother’s Day

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Today is Mother’s Day…and the grief I am feeling is just palpable.  Especially today, I am missing my mother so much.  It is not only my first Mother’s Day without my mother, but Mother’s Day last year was the last truly good day we all had together.  Not that we didn’t continue to have happy times, but it was two weeks later, on Memorial Day, that my mother was hospitalized for the first time.  Even though it was another three months (to the day) before we got a diagnosis, my mother never felt right after her hospitalization, and every time we were together, we were always worried about her.  I know it is a day I should focus on the joy of being a mother, to remember the wonderful times I did share, and to count my blessing for having the time I did with such an amazing mother, one who showed me how to love and care for my own children by her example.
Last year, we decided to all descend on my parents’ house to cook brunch to celebrate Mother’s Day.  It was a gorgeous day outside, and filled with tons of laughter and joy inside.  I was 34 weeks pregnant with Maya, and it was just a truly happy day, no cancer cloud or fear of loss hanging over our heads.  We had omelettes, waffles, fresh fruit, juice, and home fried potatoes.  Jeremy and Elliot did most of the cooking, and we all sat together, laughing in the dining room as we ate brunch together and made a lot of noise.  My mother commented on how much she loved spending the day with all of us like that, and what a perfect Mother’s Day it was. 
For some reason…maybe the beautiful weather, or the fact that we so rarely managed to take pictures of the whole “gang” together, or perhaps to honor Mom’s desire to change her background photo on her computer at work to a picture of her with all of her grandchildren, we decided to take everyone outside and snap some photos…first of Mom with her grandchildren, then with the three moms and our kids.  In hindsight, I realize that Jeremy was missing from that photo…we still didn’t get that photo of all the moms with all of their children.  Nevertheless, the pictures came out beautifully.  In an odd twist of events, I didn’t see my mother much in those next two weeks…she was feeling very tired, and she canceled plans to babysit Micah and to meet me for errands a few times.  So, that really was our last day together before the cancer struck.
Despite the sadness coloring this day, it was a good Mother’s Day.  It was the first time Micah told me “Happy Mommy’s Day.”  We decided to spend the holiday together again, as we have for so many years, with my brother, sister-in-law and my nieces.  It was different, but we did have a wonderful meal.  I decided to make blintzes – it seemed like the perfect brunch food.  
I ended the day with a trip to cemetery to see my mom.  I went alone, needing to be in solace with her, the very first time I was visiting her grave.  I just didn’t feel it was Mother’s Day without her.  I have to say, it was a gorgeous day, and the grounds of the cemetery are beautiful. I spoke quietly to my mother, apologized for taking so long to come visit, and promised to return again with the children.  It was a hard day…
Today, I will try to focus on the joy my children bring to me, and be thankful that I had such a wonderful mother.  Today, I will honor her memory, and the incredible relationship I shared with her.  Today, I will promise to try and be as good a mother to my children, and hope one day, they, too, value our relationship as much as I have mine with my mother.  I love you, Mom, and I miss you.

Run Between the Raindrops

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When I was little, on rainy days my Mom would tell me to “run between the raindrops” so I wouldn’t get wet. She would remind me every time it rained, and when we got to the car, or when I arrived home, she would always ask me “Did you run between the raindrops?” and “Did you get wet?” I always proudly beamed at my Mom, declaring that I did it, I ran between the raindrops and I didn’t get wet. Even as an adult, if I was visiting my mom and leaving in the rain, she would smile and say “Don’t forget to run between the raindrops” and I would reply “Of course.”

It has been a very rainy week here. During the first bit of rain last week, I stood at the door, preparing to take Micah outside. As I bundled Micah up in his jacket and pulled the hood over his head, I heard my mom’s voice echo in my head, chastising me for not taking an umbrella with me. I found myself smiling, and even said out loud, “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll run between the raindrops.” I stopped cold for a second, frozen, tears welling up in my eyes again, and then I turned to Micah, took his hand, and said, “Come on, Micah, let’s run between the raindrops.”

I was sure my Mom was grinning down at us as we ran to the car and I buckled Micah into his car seat. I sat down in the front seat, crying (and soaking wet), and I said out loud, “We did it, Mom, we ran between the rain drops and we didn’t get wet.”

Running between the raindrops is a great metaphor for life…when you are little, you just BELIEVE you have the power to avoid getting wet. Even when you sit there, hair glued to your head and beads of water dripping into your eyes and down your nose, you can still beam and insist that you avoided the raindrops and stayed dry. As we get older, we realize that rain is unavoidable…as is getting wet. We can wistfully remember a time when we believed we could avoid the raindrops if we just tried, but we are all too aware that it was never possible to actually run between the raindrops.

This year, I’ve learned all too well about raindrops…and life’s rainshowers have me sitting here, hair glued to my head, clothing soaked, shivering, and beads of water sliding down my face. But this week, I remembered that even as I sit here, soaking wet, it is easy to WANT to believe we can run through the raindrops if we just try. I think that is what I’ve been doing the past few months…trying to figure out how to run through the raindrops…or at least learn to grin with pride after getting soaked by life.

Things have been hard since my Mom died. I think of her every day, many times a day, and not a day passes that I don’t shed tears. A friend of mine renamed her blog “Impersonating Normal” after she lost her son…and I understand that sentiment. I wake up each day, I focus on all the good in my life, and I try to be normal again, even when I don’t exactly feel normal. I spend time with my children, I’m working on rebuilding my business, I go out with my friends, and I am trying to create balance in my life and find me again. But I also feel as if I am walking around with this big gaping hole in my chest. I always think that anyone who looks at me must be able to see what has happened to me – as if I have this huge shocking open wound, exposed and bleeding, visible for the world to see.

Some days are better than others. I definitely have more smiles than tears in my life, but it is the little things I find challenging. I miss my mom terribly when I am at the yarn store, trying to decide which yarn to purchase for a project. I find myself reaching for the phone to call her and tell her about the kids’ doctors appointments, or the funny things they say and do. I miss my sounding board…my life is much more quiet and insular without my mother in my life. I feel disconnected to the “information train” – I have no idea what is going on anymore with our extended family and friends. My mother always had good tidbits of gossip for me, and I miss the phone ringing all day with random little stories and updates. I wish my Mom could see Micah laughing about the tickle bugs in the couch, or how he loves using FaceTime (she would have thought that was so cool), or Maya’s quirky little crawl and how she is pulling up on everything. I miss Thursday night date night, and knowing that she is there to run backup and help out when I realize that Elliot is going out of town for the weekend and I have no one who can help me take two kids to swim class while he is gone.

I do so many things each day to keep my Mom close. I find myself wearing her perfume – her scent lingering near me feels like a big hug sometimes…as if she has just left my presence. I keep a picture of her in the kitchen, so Micah and Maya can see “Mimi” sitting with them while they eat meals. I teach Micah how to use “Mimi’s trick” to put on his jacket, and we laugh about the ticklebugs in Mimi’s couch.

There really is so much joy and goodness in my life…I just still wish my mother was here to share in it with me. I’m certain that feeling will never leave me, but I hear the gaping wound heals over and becomes more like a scar that fades with time. I guess only time will tell. In the meantime, I’m going to keep trying to run between the raindrops.

As you can tell, it has been a few months since I have written anything on this blog. I just…well, I just haven’t had the heart to write. All these years, I wrote for me…but for 3 years, I knew my mother was reading my blog, sharing in our journey. Somehow, writing words that I know my mother will never read…hurts. Along the way, my blogging and her battle with cancer became entangled…and I associate sitting down to write with those awful days and nights. I think it has been a struggle for me to come back to this computer and face those feelings, and knowing that writing words she will never read is moving on, moving forward again. My life stood still for six months, and the past three have felt like….Oz. I feel as if a tornado came roaring down on me, picked up my house and transported me to some sort of alternate reality Emerald City, surrounded by munchkins. I keep thinking that somewhere else, another version of me must be living my life as it was supposed to be, with my mother healthy and strong and ever-present. If only I could click my heels together three times….

I’ve been jotting down little things, and maybe now that I finally faced my “demons” to write again, I can go back and complete all those updates on our past few months. Micah is now almost 27 months old, and Maya is 8 1/2 months. They are growing up so quickly!

Today, Micah left for preschool with Elliot in the torrential downpour. I gave Micah a big hug and kiss, and told him to run between the raindrops. He flashed me a huge grin, and said “Run raindrops, Mommy” and waved at me. I felt my heart squeezing in my chest as I saw my little man stomping through the water puddles on his way to the car, grinning from ear to ear. I hope he spends his life believing that he can run through the raindrops.

Eulogies

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Debbie Brodey’s funeral was held on Tuesday, November 30, 2010 at 12:00 Noon at the Chapel at Judean Gardens. Rabbi Harris led services. Below are the eulogies delivered during the service:

Sharon Klawansky:

There is a song we learned many years ago at Girl Scout Camp…”Make New Friends, But Keep The Old. Some are Silver, The Others Gold”. I am very touched that Debbie wanted me to say a few words about the OLD.

Some people are lucky enough to have , what I call, “Forever Friends”. Debbie was one of mine. And it all started back in Scranton, PA. Growing up there in the 50’s and 60’s was a unique experience, but no one realized it at the time. We thought everyone had the childhood we had. But then we grew up, moved away, started our own lives, and made new friends.

It would always amaze people when we told them how we lived as a pack – not a clique – but a pack who did everything together…from walking to school taking up the whole sidewalk, to Hebrew school right through to Confirmation, to Saturday afternoon movies where we took up a whole row saving seats for each other, to Sunday clubs at the JCC, to summer camp, to high school reunions, to each other’s weddings. There were never 2 or 3 of us; it was always a pack.

About 5 years ago when we were all turning 60, and life became a little less hectic, income a little more disposable, we decided to celebrate with a Birthday Bash Vacation. Seven of our group were able to make it, so off to Cancun we went, dubbed by the staff there as The Seven Lovely Ladies. We caught up, rekindled, vowed to keep it going. And we have.

Now there is one less member of our pack. One of Our Lovely Ladies is gone. There is a great void; an emptiness that can never be filled. But Debbie has shown the rest of us how to meet the end of our days with such grace and dignity and bravery and, most of all, surrounded by so much love. Debbie has had a profound impact on each and every one of us here today and it all started way back when in Scranton, PA where we learned the true meaning of everlasting friendship. And now, we are Six Lovely Ladies.  

Pat Mehok:

I am so very honored that Debbie asked me to speak today. I met Debbie when she began her employment at Montgomery College as a Library Assistant. I was a librarian at the Rockville Campus. Eventually she became a supervisor of 12 staff and numerous student aides and I became her supervisor as the Head Librarian. Over the next 25 years, I came to know Debbie from many perspectives. I would like to talk about just 3 of those today.

The first perspective is one we all know—which is—with Debbie you get Mickey. You can’t avoid it! It is not a coincidence that both of them wound up working at the same place of employment. I can only imagine that when the children were old enough to be thoroughly engaged in school and friends, Mickey began to “shop” for a job, “shop” is the operative word here for those who know Mickey well. Yes, Mickey began to “shop” for a job, where he could keep an eye on Debbie, OR was it the other way around—where Debbie could keep an eye on Mickey?

There were more times than I can count when Debbie was in my office to go over a process, a problem, or an update of importance in the daily affairs of the library. More often than not, my phone would ring, and I would answer. “Hi Mickey.” Mickey would ask, “Is the boss there?” I’d hand the phone to Debbie who was clearly agitated– “What the heck do you want? [But she didn’t say ‘heck.’] She said, “What the heck do you want? Don’t you have a job?” Mickey most likely wanted to know if she had all the ingredients for what they would be cooking. Should he go to Nordstrom’s to buy that shirt he wanted? What else did she want him to pick up from Costco? As Mickey received his instructions from Debbie, Debbie’s eyes widened and rolled in half circles, she shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, and ended with, “Is that it?! GOODBYE MICKEY!” And she hung up. And as though she had to explain further how she felt about his intrusion, she slurred her words in a huff of irritation, “Such a pain in the ….” In the pause that followed, I felt like an intruder during their private moments of marital bliss.

While Debbie played the perturbed wife when Mickey did the dialing, she also knew Mickey’s strengths. One day shortly before Christmas, Debbie stopped by to chat. She asked if my son Nick got everything on his Christmas List. I replied proudly that yes indeed he had, all but one gift. Being married to the extreme shopper, she found that concerning and asked what Santa couldn’t find. I told her and within seconds she was on the phone to Mickey with the latest instructions, “Mickey, listen to me, Nick asked Santa for a stuffed Cat in the Hat, and Santa couldn’t find it. Can you pick one up today?” They said goodbye and two and a half hours later, Mickey stopped by with the last of Santa’s gifts. Debbie couldn’t be more proud. They were a team! Debbie and Mickey were a team!

Debbie’s ability to solve problems applied to her work in the library, as well. Debbie’s attitude towards work was always focused on getting things done. Many considered her to be the “go to” person. She kept a catalog of supplies, resource people, and furniture in her head so that at any given time, she could find what you needed or knew where to get it. She was dependable. She often came early or left late. She developed the scheduling for her staff to make sure the desks were always covered even if that meant staying later to cover for someone else.

She was very detail oriented and enjoyed working on the Voyager system that controls our collection. I was impressed with the knowledge she developed over the years about the record structure and the complex relationships of an integrated catalog. She liked to work on projects to clean up the catalog from a circulation perspective. She encouraged her staff to bring problems to her. She was a good listener for those employees who consulted with her. She thought carefully about appropriate solutions. It can be said that Debbie Brodey gave 100 percent effort to provide service in Rockville’s very busy library over the 25 years she worked there. I immensely enjoyed working with Debbie.

Not only was Debbie knowledgeable about how the library functioned and knew how to get the work done, she brought her thoughtfulness and caring to work and made family out of co-workers. She organized and participated in showers and birthday parties. She knit sweaters or blankets for expectant moms and dads. She cooked from her own library of recipes that became signature at library parties. I know so many of you that worked in the library during those 25 years who invited Debbie to your family functions. Debbie always looked forward to attending and shared your special joys and even your sorrows.

Lastly, I wanted to mention how Debbie impacted my life as a human being. While I was her boss, she was my mentor. She taught me so much but perhaps her greatest gift was to show me how to be a caretaker. Long before my mom and dad became ill, I watched how Debbie cared for her own mom. With responsibility and love, Debbie did everything for her mom. She moved her mom from Scranton. She set her up in appropriate living facilities. She took her mom to medical appointments, bought her clothes, medicine and, yes, Breyer’s Chocolate ice cream. She was the ultimate devoted daughter not only for her mother but for Mickey’s mother too. In an odd turn of events, her mother was placed in the room next to my mom’s in the Rockville Nursing Home for the last 2 weeks of her mom’s life. I stopped in next door to see how she was doing only to see Debbie lying on the bed, her arms wrapped around her mom, gently comforting her mother in the last hours of her life. It was poignant and touching—it was a moment of beauty. Debbie’s gift of love and caring was given back to her. During her illness, her family, visitors, and guestbook friends formed a support system of inconceivable magnitude. I can only imagine Debbie’s satisfaction on this very day–that she was so loved and cared for by all those lives she touched. I am grateful that she touched mine and was proud to call Debbie my dear friend.


Lorin Luchs:

As all of us here feel, it is with much sadness that I am before you to say a few words about our beloved Debbie.

Arleen and I met Debbie, Mickey and Jessica soon after we moved to our Rockville neighborhood about 34 years ago. Soon thereafter, Jeremy was born and then our daughter Rayna was born and just a few years later our son Stuart was born. Our neighborhood friendship developed into a real friendship and then, as I believe is the case with many of us here today, an even closer family-like relationship.

We all knew Debbie as a very warm, friendly person who would go out of her way to help a friend. I will never forget when Debbie, at her request, stayed at our house overnight to be with Rayna when Arleen and I left for the hospital for Arleen to give birth to Stuart. That will be exactly 30 years ago on Thursday.

All of us here have been extremely saddened since we learned a few months ago of Debbie’s serious illness and we have done much to help and support Mickey, Jessica, Jeremy and their families during this very traumatic time. Mickey, Jessica and Jeremy, please know that we will continue to help and provide support to you.

Mickey, Jessica and Jeremy, all of our lives will continue on, but with more strength and devotion to our family and friends because of our wonderful memories of Debbie.

Jeremy Brodey:

So how does a son talk about his mother? How does he stand in front of family and friends and honor her memory? How does he sum up a life in a few minutes? More importantly, how does he say goodbye?

I’ve been thinking about these things for a few months….and the only answer is, “he can’t….but he’s needs to try.”

Most of you in this room know me, some intimately, some casually….but I don’t think it’s a stretch for me to think that all of you, every last one of you knows how much I loved mom. In the past few months I have really done my best to be there for her, to remind her that she has fulfilled her destiny on this planet, to let her know that NO MATTER WHAT……..NO MATTER WHAT, she will NEVER be forgotten, and to further in grain the fact that she has had such a PROFOUND part in making me the person you see before you. I hope she left us knowing that.

Children are supposed to learn from their parents–right from wrong, how to be independent, how to treat others, all of that stuff. Somehow you grow up, you move out, you start a family of your own and your parents are no longer parents in the truest sense of the word. What they become are confidants and friends….and in many ways you feel like you have nothing left to learn from them except the occasional sage advice from an elder. But since mom’s diagnosis she taught me SO MUCH. She taught me that fighting a win-less fight for the right reasons can be admirable and honorable. She taught me that strength really does come from within and not some bullshit made in the gym or the practice field. That’s fake strength and at any moment that can be taken from you. You couldn’t take this strength from her, it was nothing short of incredible. Mom was debilitated, she couldn’t hold my children anymore, she couldn’t walk, she couldn’t see very well, she became a shell of herself. But she trudged on…and with very little hesitation. She AMAZED me EVERY SINGLE DAY, because I know that in my life there are many days where I just want to give up, I just want to pack it in and be done with everything, everyone….and quite frankly, my problems are trivial at best when held next to hers. She showed me what strength and resolve really is, how powerful love is and that extra time with family is worth getting poked, prodded, moved, rolled, wiped, fed, cut open, radiated, pumped full of poison, and confined to a bed or wheelchair. I envy that strength and I hope that she knows how much I admired this tenacious attitude from day one.

She didn’t have to fight, but she wanted more time with her family….and that’s not just Dad, Jess, Elliot, Micah, Maya, Jen, Paige, or Peyton, that’s everyone in this room. I wanted her to fight and told her this, but I never kidded myself that this was going to have a good outcome. Right after the surgery when she was pretty banged up, I questioned whether or not this was a good thing after all….and I did for quite some time. But then something amazing happened. Something I only thought possible in Hallmark movies or one of the Lifetime flix my Jen loves so much………I saw family and friends alike rally around her in a manner that is nothing short of shocking. I knew she was loved, but I never knew how much she affected so many people…..and how much she continued to do so through this entire process. From the absolute bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you as well as the countless people all aroudn the net that reached out. If something like this were to happen to me and I received 10% of that love, I would be an extremely lucky man.

That’s the thing that really set in with me recently…Mom WAS a lucky woman, she was raised as an only child but never felt too alone due to friends. She got married to a man who was educated, caring, and because I think I look a bit like him, STUNNINGLY HANDSOME. Together they had 2 children and they raised these kids to the best of their ability. They never wanted for anything and the house was filled with love (most of the time….when it wasn’t love, it was noise……..). These kids were very different from one another, One of the kids exceeded all expectations when it came to schooling, the other……..yeah, not so much, but he came around eventually. The one thing that they always had in common was their family. That never waivered. One of these kids grew up to be nothing short of incredible throughout this ordeal. My sister laid her life down to take care of mom at the end and I don’t know that I could have been more proud of her. I see what she did and all I could do is sit and watch in awe and know that in a million years, I could never be as incredible as that. Mom was lucky…but not nearly as lucky as Dad, Jess and I….because we got to spend 33, 37 and 42+ years with her. Without mom, I am nothing………and I mean that literally and figuratively. I know that Jess and Dad feel the same. There is a void in our lives that I don’t think will ever be filled, and I am overwhelmed with a profound sadness in my heart the likes of which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

So here we are today, saying goodbye to the single most influential female in my life…perhaps some of your lives as well. I know I could have and should have been a better son in so many ways. But I don’t harbor guilt over this, because I know that mom was proud of the friend, the husband, the father……..well, really, the man I have become. The truth is all I ever wanted was for her to be proud of me. When something good happens to me, the first person I always called was mom (much to the chagrin of Jen)….I got promoted, I got a raise, whatever, take your pick…….and the reasoning behind that call I have realized as of late is that I just wanted her to know that I wasn’t that screw up from years ago. I have always felt like I needed to make up for that little shit I was. I probably didn’t, but I wanted her to know that she didn’t go wrong with me, she actually did good. SHE deserved that…….I know that the next time something great happens I am going to pick up my phone and just dial instinctively and I know at that moment it will be like this is happening all over again, but that’s ok, because I know she’s watching me and I hope it is with a swelled chest full of pride, because again……SHE DESERVES IT.

Mom, I need you to know that Jen and the girls love, I won’t say “loved”, they love you and I feel terrible that they won’t get to know you as I did. Know that you DID affect them, and you WILL NOT be forgotten by them.

I am going to miss you mom, and I don’t blame whatever power is up there for wanting you to come back……….because I WANT YOU TO COME BACK, but I don’t have that power. I don’t NEED you anymore, I just really really really want you around. I promise to try to be a better man, to have more compassion for my girls, to be nicer to people, to treat Jen more like the goddess she is, but most importantly, to be a good son and brother to the people who meant the most to you in this world.

I have given up trying to find answers, even if there were any, none would satisfy me. But I will say this….It wasn’t supposed to be like this………..but that’s OK, because you are no longer struggling, you can rest, it’s over. You left this world knowing how much of an impression you had on so many people, I can only hope that I have that honor one day.

I love you mom and I won’t ever be the same without you. So say hi to all the grandparents for me and you better have some sweet and sour meatballs for me when I arrive someday. I love you so much and I am so sorry any of this happened to you, you deserved better.

RIP mom.

Jessica Brodey:

First of all, I wanted to thank all of you for coming today. Over the past few months, we have been humbled by your support…on the blog, your emails, your visits, your calls, your food, your offers of help, your love and your support. My mother often said how this experience had changed her. She said that the outpouring of support for her was mind boggling, and it taught her that we should never sit back when those we know, even just acquaintances, are going through rough times. I have learned that lesson, too. We had always believed that in hard times, families needed to be by themselves…to be private. Through this experience, we learned that the love, support, encouragement, kind thoughts, and offers to help are invaluable, not intrusive. I will forever be grateful for all that you have done for me and my family during this trying time, and I am lucky that so many decided not to just let us be. My family owes so much to so many of you, and all I can do is express our thanks, and tell you that it mattered. It made life easier, it made life better, and your strength helped carry us through. We are forever changed because of this experience, and I hope that we will all be better people for learning that lesson.

Today we are here to honor my mother. I think the outpouring of support is a testament to her life….to the person she was, to her kindness, to her humor, and to the friendships she cultivated over a lifetime. I could spend days talking about my mother (and as you all know from the blog, I can certainly wax poetic at the drop of a hat). It is so difficult for me to think about where to begin, what to say. How do you summarize the essence of a person? I could tell you all that my Mom grew up in Scranton, PA, that she was an only child, that she graduated from Temple University, that she was a social worker when she met my father, that they met when he crashed a wedding, that she worked in a series of part-time jobs when she moved to DC, that for the past 25 years, she worked as a Library Assistant (and eventually became the Supervisor) at the Montgomery College Rockville Campus Library, and that she was a loving daughter, an amazing mother and grandmother, and a good wife. I could tell you that my mother loved to read, that she was a wonderful baker and a cook, and that she crocheted and knitted some of the most beautiful afghans, sweaters and scarves I’ve ever seen in my life. My mother was kind. She loved her family, and she loved her friends. I could talk about my Mom’s humor, or our relationship, or her friendships, or how much she loved us. All of that is true. And yet…it somehow doesn’t say enough.


One of the things my mother hates most about funerals is the poem “Eishet Chayeil” – Woman of Valor. My mother felt that it extols values that she did not represent or even appreciate…a submissive woman, toiling day and night to keep the perfect Jewish home. When we received my mother’s diagnosis, I knew that there would be no reading of Eishet Chayeil at her funeral. At the time, I posted something on the Caring Bridge site about needing to find a better poem to read, and my Mom’s friend, Sharon, gave me a card the next day, with a poem folded inside. I’ve carried it with me ever since, and I think perhaps it does a better job of identifying the “value” of a person’s life, and maybe a better framework for me to tell you about my mother:

THE DASH

Each of you here today (and so many more who are unable to be with us) are part of how my mother spent her dash, and those of us who loved her do understand the value of that dash. I think one word that can easily be used to describe my mother’s dash is “friend.” She was a wonderful and kind friend to so many, including me – a sounding board, a confidante, and a cheerleader. My mom is a rare breed…she has so many lifelong friends, including a core group of friends she has known since her childhood in Scranton. In addition, my mom has cultivated friends she met as a young, newly married adult building a life in a new city, friends she met through work, and more recently, friends that she collected through her struggle with cancer.

Mom would do whatever she could to help a friend…make food, run an errand, babysit a child, drive somewhere, rescue a knitting project, hold a hand, sit in a hospital waiting room, drive 8 hours to a funeral, teach their children to drive, pull loose teeth, or just sit and listen and laugh and talk. She tried her best to always be there for her friends whenever they needed her. In recent weeks, she read the book Tuesdays with Morrie, and when she finished, she asked me if it would be okay to take Morrie’s line from his tombstone (“teacher to the end”) and tweak it a bit…she wanted to put on her tombstone “friend to the end.” Friendship was one of the most important parts of Mom’s dash.

Humor was another huge component that defined Mom’s dash…she was snarky and spunky and funny, right up to the end. She had a keen sense of humor and a quick wit, and she could always deliver a well-timed line. She loved practical jokes, she loved to laugh, and she loved to yank people’s chains. Her eyes would dance when she was looking to laugh…and when my Mom decided it was time to laugh, well, it was time to laugh. I’ve often spoken of our inside jokes on the Caring Bridge site, and I’m going to miss laughing with my Mom and our silly little sayings.

I think food defined my mother’s dash. She loved to eat (especially on those steroids), she loved to try new and different foods, and she loved to cook and bake…but only from scratch. She made the most delicious apple cake, and cookies, and applesauce and mandel bread and brownies. She was constantly trying new recipes, but there were certain foods, especially holiday foods, that we liked a certain way…like her brisket, and her filled cabbage, and her blintzes, and her Thanksgiving stuffing, and her pumpkin pie. She loved a good holiday meal, and while she hated the mess and the effort, she loved doing the holidays “just right” with our food, done our way.

My mom was also a bit quirky, but her quirks were endearing and why she has been so loved during her dash. I loved that she started cooking or baking whenever a snow storm hit…usually soup, or filled cabbage, or her latest baked goods obsession (one year it was blueberry muffins, the past two years it has been mandel bread). She loved to guess the voices in television commercials (I think it is something she started with her father many years ago). She had a tendency to goose us (particularly my father) in public, just so she could hear a good squeal. I loved the silly little dances she would do for me singing the Chip and Dale song, and I loved when she would imitate cookie monster and sing “C is for Cookie…” Mom loved beautiful voices and singing…she always joked how in her next life, she wants to be able to sing.

I would also say Mom’s dash was defined by all the little things she did, especially for us. I remember as a child that she always made my lunch…and would use cookie cutters to cut my sandwiches into different shapes. She often put post-it notes in my lunch, and she would hide post-it notes with messages like “I love you” and “I miss you” in our clothing drawers when we went off to camp. My mom always had homemade soups and baked goods and applesauce for us. Every year, we would go out to Butler’s Orchard and pick fresh vegetables and fruit, especially strawberries. We would pick 10 flats, and my mother would spend a day making strawberry jam and pies. We always had enough jam to last us the entire year through. I think I must have been well into my teenage years before I ever had store bought jam! Every year, she made sure to give gifts for all of her co-workers. She would start searching in July, trying to find the perfect gifts. I remember as a child all of the craft projects she did…crocheted bookworm bookmarks, pom pom magnets, lanyards and so many more, often as gifts for goodie bags or holidays. Mom was always working on a sweater or an afghan or a scarf. She used to make us hats and gloves, and I remember that she would crochet a string and attach our mittens to each end and thread them through the sleeves of our jackets so we could not lose them. She did so much for us and for everyone to make our lives…nicer.

The end of Mom’s dash has been defined by her strength and courage. This year, we lost Grammy, my mother’s mother. At times, watching my mother through this battle was like watching her become my grandmother. It was difficult to see my mother age, almost overnight. As the brain tumor and surgery affected her, I noticed some of my grandmother’s nervous habits surfacing in my mother. It was bittersweet…terrible to see in my mother, and yet it made me smile to catch a glimpse of my grandmother again. At her funeral, my mother said that my grandmother’s last 2 weeks were a true testament to her strength, both physical and mental, and that my grandmother raised the bar high and my mother only hoped that she could reach it as Grammy did. Mom – you did. You faced this horrible illness with such strength and courage, and you fought hard, and you did better than anyone predicted. I’m stunned that this stroke came along and took you out after all your fight and hard work. It isn’t fair. You faced this battle with courage, grace and strength. You earned the right to have more good time, and frankly, we were all robbed. I’m angry about that, but so proud of you and all you did. I’m sorry for all the things the cancer stole from you, and yet proud of how you held on to yourself…you were kind, you worked hard to improve, and you always kept a positive outlook. As you have said before, you raised the bar, and I hope that I can reach it the way you and Grammy did.

Before she learned of her diagnosis, my Mom never realized that she had touched so many lives. Through the blog and your messages, she learned at the end of her life that she mattered to so many, and that the things she had done made a difference. That knowledge touched her, and meant the world to her. She told me one day that you never know how the tiniest little nothing you do can be a big something to someone else. I think that is an important lesson for all of us.

Towards the end, my mother gave us a list of things she wanted to “take with her.” I think many of those things represent what she valued in living out her dash…pictures of her family, a hat crocheted for her by a dear friend, a phone so she could “keep in touch” with her loved ones, and Nugget’s remains.

I have asked Rabbi Harris to read the Yizkor poem “As We Remember Them” today. I have always found that poem beautiful, and I think it is true…it is in all the little things of every day life that will help me remember my mother. I will take her with me, and she will live on in each of us, in our memories of her. I believe that “As long as we live, she too will live, for she is now a part of us, as we remember her.”

I’d like to part with a poem that my Mom’s friend and co-worker, Gonzalo, brought to her when she was in the hospital. It resonated with her, and I think it speaks to the value of my mother’s dash:

Count your garden by the flowers,
Never by the leaves that fall.
Count your days by golden hours,
Don’t remember clouds at all.
Count your nights by stars not shadows,
Count your years with smiles, not tears.
Count your blessings not your troubles,

Count your age by friends not years.

As We Remember Them Poem read by Rabbi Harris:

At the rising of the sun and at its going down, We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring, We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer, We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn, We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends, We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength, We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart, We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share, We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make, We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs, We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.