Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day. I realize that I'm early, but since today is Robby's Valentine's Day party at school I am celebrating today. I am not particularly fond of this holiday, but I do love my role as class Mom and since a party is involved, I am all about Valentine's Day!

Scott took off work yesterday to help with Timmy so that I could unwind after the trip to Texas. It was really nice having him home, and the extra set of hands trying to wrangle our fast crawling Hamlet was certainly appreciated. During nap time Scott headed to the grocery store, armed with a list of needed supplies for the class party. 

About fifteen minutes after he left, which is also the driving distance from our house to the grocery store, the phone began to ring. He sounded frustrated as he explained that he couldn't find the candy hearts I had requested. I told him to go to the holiday aisle, a direction which only served to increase his frustration.

"Peg, I am standing right in front of the Easter candy. I see bunnies and chocolate eggs. I've looked all through this stuff and I don't see any candy hearts."

Sitting at home in my rocker, I couldn't help but smile. "Scott, continue walking down the aisle to the Valentine's Day display." With that he quickly hung up the phone.

 A few seconds later it rang again.  "I found the candy hearts.  They weren't with the Easter candy.  They were with the Valentine's Day candy."  Not wanting to stymie his desire to help, I chose to not tease him for shopping the wrong holiday. Instead I reminded him that we also needed rice cereal for Timmy and hung up the phone.

Robby and I spent the afternoon assembling his Valentine's for his classmates. We decided to go outside the box this year, crafting robots out of food items. (I'm glad that he found the hearts, because putting an Easter Egg on the robot's chest would not have been conducive with our theme.) I think he did a great job with his robots, and for the first time ever no tears were shed when addressing his Valentine's for his classmates. 

Today is the party, and I know that everybody is going to have a great time. We'll have cupcakes, crafts, and a few games. (I'm sure Robby's robots are going to be a huge hit!) I still don't like Valentine's Day, but I do adore spending time with Robby planning his class party. I love that he wants me to be class mom.

Intimidated

I always take the pre-boarding courtesy afforded by Southwest for individuals with disabilities. While I don’t consider myself to be disabled, I have come to accept that the extra time to get situated is not only beneficial for me but also for my fellow passengers. As an added bonus, I am allowed to pick the seat of my choice, which is a benefit I don’t take lightly!

I boarded early and took a seat by the window in the third row of the plane. I deliberately chose to sit towards the front of the plane becauseI had plans of disembarking as quickly as possible. After a wonderfully exhausting and emotional visit with my Dad, all I wanted to do was hug my kids and kiss my husband. 

After I was situated, I settled in and watched my fellow passengers begin to filter through the aisles. An elderly gentleman was struggling to put his luggage in the overhead compartment. Just as I was preparing to stand up to help, I witnessed an exchange which left me disgusted. In fact, the interaction haunted me the entire flight.

A younger (probably early 20’s) man who was also considerably stronger, took the opportunity to berate the elderly passenger. Instead of offering to help, which would have only taken a moment of his time and would have certainly expedited clearing the aisles, he proceeded to ridicule and chastise the senior citizen.

“Hurry up and get in your seat. You’re blocking the aisle,” the rude whipper-snapper loudly barked.

The man, now looking increasingly frail and obviously embarrassed, softly said, “I’m trying to get my bag in the overhead compartment. I pre-boarded because I knew it would take me more time. Please be patient with me, I hurt my shoulder and my wife isn’t feeling well today.”

Without missing a beat the younger man, and I use that only to describe his gender because he certainly didn’t possess the manners and civility I expect to accompany that descriptor, continued with his chastising.  “Maybe you shouldn’t be flying old timer. Hurry up and sit down.”

I saw the look of despair flush over the face of what had previously been a proud man. I quickly grabbed the bag and placed it in the overhead compartment. As soon as they were settled in their seats the rude young man pushed his way through the aisle and disappeared into the back of the plane

I spent the remainder of the flight kicking myself for not speaking up to defend the couple. While I did help, I regret not doing more. I hate that I continue to become intimidated by verbal confrontation!

Scrapbooks

Yesterday was one of bittersweet exhaustion. I spent the day with my Dad, helping him sort through his work memorabilia in an effort to compile scrapbooks for each grandchild. My Dad has dedicated his life to his career and has helped millions through his efforts. In the midst of dealing with his diagnosis, he is feeling driven to leave a legacy so that the grandkids know that he was more than a man who provided adventures and lollipops.

Watching him sort through his boxes was difficult, but I knew that it was also cathartic for him. There is a peace that comes from reflection, and yesterday I watched that peace envelop my Dad. He reminisced with pride about his various accomplishments while we sorted through the treasures to select items for the scrapbooks.

After the piles were compiled, I headed to Kinkos to make copies. Two hours later I left the copy center with arms full of my father's accomplishments. It felt strange copying, categorizing and sorting all of his milestones. 

After the paper portion of the scrapbooks was complete, we moved onto a special project. We created a video for each grandchild, documenting his love for them as well as discussing the special memories they have shared.  He spoke from the heart to each grandchild, telling them of his hopes and dreams for each one. The videos were heartfelt and personal. I was honored to be trusted to record these messages, but hearing him speak to his grandchildren, knowing that he won't physically be there, broke my heart. They are incredibly lucky that he loves them so deeply to take this time to create a legacy for each one. I have no doubt that the scrapbooks, and especially the videos, will be treasured when they are presented at each child's high school graduation.

Today I head back home. I'm leaving torn because I want to stay with my Dad and spend as much time with him as possible. On the other hand I know that my sister is coming down and she deserves the same quiet moments that I have enjoyed. It will be hard driving away this morning, but I am leaving with the promise that I will be back soon. I have to believe that I'll be able to see him, talk to him and hug him again or I don't think I'd be able to get on that plane.  So, I will keep on believing and hoping.

Ut Oh-- He's Mobile!

With one slight adjustment of movement, everything has changed. Timmy has been on the verge of crawling for weeks. Up on all fours, he has been rocking furiously trying to move. Up until recently, he only managed to flop on his tummy. Undeterred, little Hamlet has kept trying.

While on the phone with my Mom this past Friday I knew that he was getting close. He was eyeballing an electric cord with a determination I haven't seen previously. (I find it humorous that he has a room full of brightly colored, musical playing toys and all he really wants to play with is the cord to the electric blanket.) Sensing that the end of my still little baby days was near, I quickly hung up the phone and grabbed my video recorder.

Little Timmy is now crawling!  Being a proud Momom, I am excited to share his milestone in this blog!

Where I Should Be

Hello from Texas! 

While I miss my boys, right now I am exactly where I need to be. I am writing this blog sitting next to my Dad, who is in good spirits and happy for my visit. I am so thankful that i am able to come down to spend this time with him. 

Although the purpose for the visit is definitely high stress, my travel experience was unusually easy. I sailed through security without a hitch and was at my gate before Scott even got on the highway to return home. I took full advantage of my "disability" by accepting the pre-boarding opportunity. Not having to stand in the cattle call and scramble for a seat was a perk I was happy to accept. After I arrived in Austin, I hopped into the rental car and drove to my Dad's house. To my delight, the entire trip was seamless!

Although Robby says he misses me, I know that he probably doesn't, at least not yet. He and his Daddy have the week mapped out, with trips to Sheetz for man food on tap for more than one dinner. The two are probably happily playing video games and searching the internet for game cheats. Timmy is with my Mom, fully reveling in the attention of his Nana, Aunt and cousins. I have no doubt that he is both well-loved and highly stimulated. Who knows, maybe this will jump start a proper sleep pattern for little Hamlet.

Today will be spent sitting, talking, reminiscing or anything else my Dad wants to do. I am at his disposal, and I'm just happy for this time with him.

I'm trendy!

While I could have cared less about the Super Bowl, I have to confess to watching all of the commercials. Scott teased me by saying that I had it backwards, that I should be folding laundry and doing the dishes doing the commercials so that I could fully attend to the game. I disagree. I didn't care about either team and found the commercials the most entertaining part of the whole event. (Okay, Sheetz appetizers for dinner was a close second.)

This year the commercials seemed to be all about tugging at the heartstrings by featuring people who were overcoming great obstacles. Throwing some amputees into the mix has long been the marketer's go-to tactic, and this year's commercials were no exception. Everybody was abuzz with not one but two full commercials featuring amputees and, perhaps more important from a marketing perspective, their use of prosthetics. 

The commercials were not entirely accurate, but I suspect that only an amputee or a close family member would have known.  Robby was quick to point out that the Toyota commercial, featuring Amy Purdy hopping out of bed with her prosthetic legs already attached, was inaccurate. "Momom, she wouldn't sleep with her legs on.  She would take them off so that they could get some air. And she would also have to put her liners on first."  I realize that seeing her rolling on liners, lining up her legs before carefully stepping into the sockets would not have made nearly as sexy of a commercial but I am tickled that Robby was able to spot the inaccuracies.

After seeing the second commercial I was delighted. I couldn't help but think of new amputees, feeling alone and scared while watching the Super Bowl.  How empowered they must have felt seeing such strong amputee role models being celebrated in commercials.  I'm 40 years old, and for the first time in my life I'm finally trendy!

What I Want Him to Know

My heart has been heavy this week. I've been trying to remain stoic by keeping up a happy demeanor so Robby doesn't become upset.  Despite appearing to be status quo, inside I have felt like pulling out my hair and rage--screaming to the heavens: My Dad is sick, and it is extremely serious. Talking to him several times a day, I have the sense that he is trying to maintain a similar strong facade to protect me.  Strange how parents always want to protect their children.

Scott has been a rock, listening to me ramble endlessly while conveying no new information. When I finally verbalized my worst fear, that my Dad was going to die without his knowing how much I loved him, he held me while I sobbed. I finally fell asleep from exhaustion. 

When I woke, he reminded me that my Dad is sick, but right now is still very much alive. Scott's dad died suddenly when he was in college. He never had the opportunity to tell him how much he loved him.  I know that I would burst into tears if I tried to tell my Dad, so I decided to write him a letter in this blog.  He is one of my biggest fans, and no matter how sick he may be, he still hasn't missed reading a post.  So please excuse this highly personal post, but I don't have the ability to express myself to him any other way.

Dear Dad,

I feel heartbroken when I contemplate the possibility that you will not always be on the other end of the receiver when I call you. I have become so accustomed to calling you throughout the course of my week, sometimes to exchange work stories (good and bad), to ask for advice, or just to complain. I have learned to rely upon your professional guidance as I navigate through my career. You have always understood my passion to help, and you have fostered and nurtured me as I stumbled to find my way.

Even though you may not always be on the other end of the receiver, rest assured that I will always carry your wisdom with me. As I find myself at professional crossroads, I know that I will continue to be guided by the advice and insights that you have already imparted.  When I was staying with you during my internship 20 years ago, you told me to become the co-worker that brings donuts to the office. "It never hurts to have people like you, and spending a few dollars for a dozen donuts every now and then will go a long way."  Well Dad, I've been taking the donuts (and cookies) to work ever since and that isn't going to change. 

Although you moved away to Easton when I was in the second grade, you remained present in our lives. You weren't there for everything, but I can promise you that you were there for everything that was important. I don't remember the highlights you missed, but I vividly remember looking into the bleachers at my All-Star softball game and seeing you cheering me on. You were there when I won Miss Tip-Tam, when I was "girl #2" in the school play and for my graduations. You took me trick-or-treating, and endured more than your share of  WWF wrestling matches.  Remember you were given a speeding ticket as you drove to my amputation?  But you made it in time to see me before the surgery.

You probably don't remember my 14th birthday, but it ranks among my favorites. You had just moved back to Harrisburg and drove over to Mom's house before I caught the bus for school. We went to breakfast for my birthday, just the two of us. Sitting in the booth at Burger King, happily munching on my french toast sticks, I felt like I was the most important person in the world. Although our relationship hasn't been perfect, I never felt abandoned or unloved.

I smile when I recall your reaction upon learning that you were going to be a grandfather again. You uttered the exact sentiment when I called you to tell you the same news 7 years later. "Holy shit. Are you shitting me? You're pregnant?"

You were at the hospital when Robby was born, passing the hours I was in labor by filling out crossword puzzles and chatting. You were the second man to hold my son, which in retrospect is appropriate. You were also the second man to hold Timmy. The stars certainly aligned that day, didn't they?  You happened to be at a meeting in DC when he was born. I loved that you could visit us in the hospital that first day. I probably never told you how much seeing you meant to me, but please know how happy it made me.

I feel like our relationship was taken to a unique level when you moved in and lived with us for 8 years. I enjoyed putting dinners in the refrigerator for you to eat when you came home late at night. When we moved and were no longer near the donut store, I had fun baking you cookies to take to work. More than anything, I just enjoyed seeing you and having you in our lives. Robby adored having his Candy Papaw live with him. Remember the games the two of you would play? His face still lights up when he sees you!

Dad, there is so much that I want to say. There are just too many memories to recount, and I feel too much love to put into words. I think what I really want you to know is that I am lucky to be your daughter.

Please know that you will always remain present in our lives. Robby and Timmy will know their Candy Papaw and will learn about the impact he made on millions of people through his career. You could never be forgotten.

I know someday I'll pick up the phone to call you and you won't answer. I also know that you will still be with me, even when we can't converse. I will remember all of the professional advice you have given and will always consider what you would do when I am contemplating a professional decision. And yes, I will always bring donuts to the office. 

Someday I am going to be overwhelmed with grief. Losing you will cause a hole in my heart that will always remain vacant. But please rest peacefully knowing that I will, eventually, be okay. I will keep it together for Jae, Sheri, and Jeanette. I know that you would want me to become their rock, to support them through their grief. I promise you, I will be there.  After all, I'm your daughter.

Thank you, Dad, for everything that you have done for me and for all of the love that you have given me. I'm now 40 years old, but I've come to realize that I will always feel like your little girl, your Gupper.  I love you, and I will always try to make you proud.