Smart apps?

The top story on CNN right now begins, “The start of a new year can be stressful. The parties… But never fear. Smartphone apps will hold your hand through the whole confetti-splashed ordeal, from midnight Friday through those 2011 resolutions.”

Yeah.  Thanks but no thanks.  My smartphone will be OFF this New Year’s Eve when we’re out with friends.  (Well, I say ”out with friends” like we’re partyhopping, but what I mean is “over at a friend’s house sipping cranberry ginger ales and helping all our kids build the lego sets they got for Christmas.”)  We’re going to savor every moment with family and friends, and look them in the eye — not at the tops of their heads while we alternate texting.

And then, after the kiddos are tucked warm in their beds, I probably will take to twitter to wish my friends-inside-the-computer a wonderful time and a wonderful year, and then snuggle up with my sweetie to watch a DVD and talk about our plans for the year.

Without our iPhones.

Do I want smartphone apps to hold my hand through the whole confetti-splashed ordeal?  Nope, not me.  I want my sweetie to hold my hand.  How about you?

…

Edit: If you’re out partying tonight and find yourself without a designated driver, the cab4me (free) app will help you call a cab quickly and easily.  USE IT if you need it.  Or use it now and write down the phone numbers, so you can easily call if you’re out late partying and everyone has been drinking.  Please?  Please.  Life is too precious to take chances on whether you’re “good enough” to drive home.   

The mini bike

Merry Merry and Happy Happy, everyone!

I’ve had a wonderful Christmas with family, following the doctor’s orders to rest and relax — with the possible exception of a drive halfway across the country to give my children a memorable, snowy Christmas with their Florida cousins and Midwestern grandparents. We all had a lovely time, and I have GOOD NEWS to share with you on the advocacy front, when the dust settles and the laundry is clean and we’ve all caught up on our sleep. For now, I’m offline, trying to get caught up, but I want to share with you a very special story that makes me cry — and smile, with hope.

This story was written by my friend, Lisa Moreau.

On the first day of Fall I received the horrible news that my eldest cousin was killed on his way home from late night farm work in rural Kansas.  I was in shock and was having a difficult time trying to accept the reality of the situation.  Why him, why now, what about his wife and two teenage kids???  Andy was more like an older brother to me than a cousin and I just wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get through his funeral.  I just wasn’t ready to let him go. 

When we got to his home I managed to keep myself together.  It was so good to see my extended family and reminisce about Andy’s fun times with all of us.  He always seemed to live life to the fullest.  His wife was struggling, but was on top of everything as usual.  I think we were all taking everything one moment at a time. 

On the day of the funeral, the family had been at the church for the flower service.  We were having a little refreshment in the fellowship hall when they said the service would begin in the main sanctuary, so we walked back together toward the main entrance of the building.  As we were entering, we couldn’t help but trip over a little mini bike (very small motorcycle) in the middle of the sidewalk with a hooded sweatshirt lying right next to it.  At the time I thought it was funny that someone had left it right at the entrance to the sanctuary, literally right in the middle of the sidewalk.  My first thought was that one of his fraternity brothers may be paying his final respects with a bit of flair– inside I knew Andy would have loved it!  I kind of put it aside in my head to figure out later and went in to try to say goodbye.

The day was hard. As I was checking in with Andy’s wife as we prepared to leave the church, I asked if she knew anything about the mini bike.  She smiled and said that the mini bike belonged to one of the boys that played football with Andy’s son.  He has a single mother and used the mini-bike to get places independently, since she worked two jobs and couldn’t get him to practices and such.  Andy and his son had befriended him and given him the nickname Frenchie.  Frenchie had told his mother that he wanted to make sure and go to all of the events surrounding the death of my cousin, to be there for his friend. 

Frenchie came to the house and sat with Andy’s son and the rest of the family the morning and day after the accident.  He came to the viewing, once again on his mini bike, although he had tucked it a little further from the entrance that night so we didn’t all see it.  The next morning he set his alarm to make sure he got to the church in time.  His mother later said she heard him get up and make himself breakfast and get going.  He arrived in his football jersey, to honor Andy, and had worn the hooded sweatshirt on top to keep the jersey clean of bugs.  Out of respect, he took off the sweatshirt when he entered the church and just threw it down next to the bike.  Andy’s wife said he even beat the motorcade to the cemetery.  She couldn’t believe he had the wherewithal to do all of this by himself, noting that Frenchie is only 12 years old. 

Now, Frenchie is a tall 12 years old, and his knees almost touch his ears when he rides his mini bike.  That weekend, Andy’s wife and brothers-in-law decided to do something that Andy would have loved and give them something to be happy about in the middle of all the sadness.  Andy’s brothers-in-law drove to the nearest store and purchased Frenchie a new scooter, big enough for a tall 12 year old to ride around town and presented it to him, with a personalized Frenchie name plate on the back, as the 12 year old and his mother returned from church on Sunday morning.  They told him that Andy would have wanted him to have it and thanked Frenchie for taking the time he took to give Andy’s family support. 

I know that Andy made a difference in my life, but it was so nice to hear and see that this young man felt touched by him as well.  This was a light for me and my family in the midst of a lot of darkness.  I know that good will still continue to come to the world even as I have to say goodbye to those I love.  Luckily, their love keeps on giving, even after they are gone.

Lisa is a faithful reader here and will see the comments.  Thanks for reading – and Happy New Year!

Tooth Fairy FAIL

Widget is six.  He’s had a loose tooth for a while now, and this week, just before the Christmas pagent, he wiggled it all the way out.  (It may or may not have had anything to do with the stories I told about wanting to sing “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth,” when *I* was six and getting ready for *my* holiday pagent at school.  Ahem.) 

Being the kind of mom that I am, I had a design, fabric, and ideas to sew him his very own tooth pillow – a pillow with a pocket where you put your used teeth so that that fine lady that is the Tooth Fairy can find it easily and see the handy (large) pocket that looks just right for a couple of quarters.

However, also being the kind of mom that I am, the project … wasn’t done yet.  So as the days got closer and closer and the tooth got wigglier and wigglier, I tried to finish what I was working on and start on this project.  I didn’t make it. 

The day of the pagent, we drove to school bundled in winter coats, singing songs about Rudolph — as I sewed frantically patiently on this long-awaited tooth pillow.  We’d be gone for a couple hours, with bedtime swiftly following, but I was NOT going to let my little boy down.  He would have his tooth pillow before he put his head on his own pillow to sleep.

And, thanks to a longer-than-anticipated wait to get into the building and some quick stitching in the front seat of the car, I finished it just before the pagent.  Widget sang loud and strong (I heard him! from the fourth row!). The kindergartners were angelic, the older kids were smart and dramatic, and the oldest kids sang like angels again, or at least angels who were a little nervous in front of all those parents and all.  Little Bear, Grammy and Grampa, and Daddy and I sat fourth row, aisle, next to a brand-new baby and her mama.  The baby was only two weeks old and captured Little Bear’s interest whether she cried, cooed, or just snuggled in. 

By 8:00, we all were tired and ready for bed.  The children changed into their footie pj’s, zipped themselves up, and Widget deposited his tooth into the designated pocket and went to sleep.  All went perfectly.

Until the next morning, when he burst into our room in tears, saying, “I want my tooth BACK!”

Apparently, the budding young naturalist would rather have teeth than quarters.  No matter how many there are. 

And so, tonight we wrote a note (it looks brusque, but he did sign it with a heart), folded it carefully, and put *that* in the little pocket in the tooth pillow, now all sewn and stuffed … and outgrown already.  As Widget pointed out on his way to bed: “I won’t be needing that anymore.”

Oh, little boy.  Don’t grow up so fast.  Let’s believe in the magic of childhood … just a little bit longer.

Moments of Joy

On the wall in our family room there is a saying: ”Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”  Now, I’m not one to fall for sappy sentiments (really!), but this one is special to me, and it’s kind of become my motto.  A challenge, if you will, to stuff the goodness of living into every day, to make it a habit, which is actually a pretty cool way to walk through life.

Every day we have the opportunity to make a memory, with our children, with our spouse, and with our friends.  Every day, there is beauty, if only we stop to look for it.

There is beauty in children – and friends’ children - doing the most mundane activities together, like setting up battles with playmobil castles or watching a little Super Why while their mamas rest.  (Look at that little hand!  Instant friends, I tell you!)

There is beauty in teaching children about caring for pets, even if their pets are only guppies that swim to and fro in their tank, among the plants and their own little castle or Eiffel Tower.  When my three-year-old woke me up yesterday with the news that his blue guppy was sick, the concern in his voice melted my heart, and we went to check him out (okay, after just ten more minutes.  It was still dark outside, people!).  As it turned out, the fish wasn’t sick, but injured, and that prompted a trip to the fish store after preschool, our first venture outside in a week, and the purchase of four more girl guppies so the boys wouldn’t fight over the girls so much.  (That will totally be an object lesson when they’re older.)

There is beauty in introducing little ones to new ideas, new activities, and new creatures – in seizing opportunities as they arise.  I was blessed to be able to do this last week, when @Canape visited me and we went over to @Stimey’s for a little while, to see friends and to play Wii.  Baby Colin and I were admiring the mice, and Stimey asked if we wanted to hold one.  Did we ever!  And from that moment, a memory was born, of brave Baby Colin reaching out to pet his first little bitty creature (check out the concentration on his face, and the determination in that little bitty pointer finger!), of a friend encouraging us in exploration, and of me holding Canape’s baby boy, introducing him to something new in his world.  Oh, the memory that we made that day is precious indeed.

And one more memory that I treasure today – the friends who have come by to visit me during my illness, grabbing an easy chair and sharing their latest, talking and quietly keeping me company, which is quickly becoming a highlight of my week.  How often do we get to sit and talk – really talk – with a friend for a half hour?  Not nearly often enough.  The friends who have come to visit me while I’m down are friends indeed, and as I move forward through this battle and the rest of my life (link goes to a survivor story I liked today), I will keep those memories in my heart, and remember how friends gave of their time, their precious, oversubscribed mommy time, to help a friend who was ill and tired of being alone in the house.