Got to have a little faith, faith, faith. I gotta have faith-uh, faith-- faith.

Best line George Michael ever warbled.

Yesterday was plain awful.  I was reminded of how fragile everything is, how everything we've worked toward can becomee undone just like that.  And I was reminded (once again) of the more important lesson of how very merciful God is. 

In early January our medical benefits got canceled due to a misunderstanding on Michael's part about some paperwork he needed to turn in.  We turned in an appeal and we were told that it shouldn't be a problem to have the benefits reinstated once the error was fixed.  And yesterday our appeal was denied.  We were told we could appeal again but that the decision was highly unlikely to be overturned.  This news made me sick to my stomach.

See, we NEED our benefits.  We use them every single week.  We use them for Frankie's therapy, for her maintenance meds, for my maintenance meds, for a growing baby who has to have shots and checkups more often.  I mean, we really use our benefits.  Frankie has therapy twice a week.  Adam has therapy once a week.  We have family therapy 2-3 times per week.  We really, really use our benefits.  And because we were confident that our benefits would be reinstated once the paperwork issue got sorted out, we have really, really used our benefits over the past three months while this whole mess was being sorted out.  We have used probably close to $15,000 worth of benefits already this year.  And we were again, confident,  those bills would be paid retroactively by our insurance provider once this whole mess was straightened out.  We were confident in the reassurances about said reinstatement (which we had received from Michael's HR reps and from the benefits management company). And we misplaced that confidence.

And when we learned that we were suddenly liable for a LOT of money in medical bills and had no hope of getting insurance reinstated by Michael's company for 2011 we were staring down the barrel of some terrible decisions and repercussions - like having to file bankruptcy because of our medical bills and not being able to afford the ESSENTIAL medical care and mental health care we needed for ourselves and our children.

Michael really loves his job.  But all in one fell swoop, contained in the word DENIED, he was going to have to find a different job or I was going to have to put our babies in daycare just so I could work for benefits.  Our whole life was going to have to change in a huge and tremendously awful way.  Just like that.

So I did the two things I know how to do.  I got on the phone.  And I prayed.  Well - I didn't pray on the phone.  I did those things separately.

God expects us to do everything we can do for ourselves.  And where we fall short, that is where He picks up the rest.  I did everything I could do.  Michael did everything he could do.  Michael's amazing boss completely went to bat for him.  I started writing our appeal letter.  And then just as quickly as this whole awful mess was started it was miraculously over.

Here's the miracle part:

In early February Michael received a letter requesting that same paperwork that had gotten messed up be sent again.  And he did re-send it.  Only that February letter was never supposed to be sent.  And that original paperwork, which was where the original error was made, was NOT supposed to be re-requested by the company.  The whole denial was based on the fact that there was an error in the original paperwork.  Can you believe that?  A company can change an entire family's life forever on a technicality.  Just like that.  So the second request that got sent out was a glitch-- a glitch!!!  A God-granted, God-given glitch.  Because that second paperwork was sent out though, because of that glitch, the legal team decided that it was in everybody's best interest to reinstate our benefits retroactively.  And, just so you know, we were told that things like this never happen.

Faith and gratitude?  Oh, yeah.   

BIG TIME.

If bird is the word what's the sentence?

Well, actually bird wasn't the word.  Today's post is about first words and sentences.

First, we define each child's first word as a word they use with correct intent.

Adam's first word was..."please."

Thomas' first word was..."hi"

And Max's first word was uttered today.

It is only used while holding the phone up to his ear.  It is:


"Hello"

Um, perhaps mommy spends a little too much time on the phone.

I honestly don't remember Adam's first sentences or phrases, but I do know what Thomas' first two complete sentences were.  The first one took place while we were in the car.

Thomas, looking outside remarked, "Look, mom, cars.  I like cars."

His second sentence was uttered as I was going upstairs to shower.  He said, "No, mom.  Don't go upstairs.  Stay here."

These are the moments that may seem so insignificant, but really are the MOST significant.  These are the moments when being a parent is worth every tough moment.

Rain, rain go away

Ever feel like it's pouring rain and your umbrella is M.I.A.?

Life is raining right now.  We are going through a very stressful time.  I cannot post the details because they are that personal, that painful.  We're going through rough times.

A long time ago I told my daughter that sometimes in life we bump our hip on the corner of the table and our reaction is minimal.  "Oh, that hurt."  And sometimes we're so stressed from other stuff that that same bump, that same pain, makes us burst into tears. 

The hip bumps that are coinciding with our tough time would be painful enough in less stressful times - Frankie and her boyfriend breaking up (causing her to be so much more volatile and eruptive), gratefully being able to pay for one car's very expensive repair only to find out that our other car now needs a repair we don't have money for, our local gym closing and the only other options being literally FIVE times the cost of the old gym AND on top of that the trainer at the new gym telling me that if I'm truly committed to getting healthy I'll find a way to raise the extra $900 they want for assessments and extra programs.  These hip bumps each bring me near (and to) tears. 

And God is good.  He always finds a way to send comfort - candles in the dark.  Old friends lifting us, comforting us as we fight to heal, a kind neighbor who doesn't ask what's wrong, only drops off dinner knowing that something's wrong, new friends who don't judge and just listen.

We are, without question, being blessed.  We've found support systems we didn't know existed.  We're taking time to really examine our lives and our priorities.  We're not gonna drown in this rain.  We're doing our best to use this water as nourishment to grow from.


So I'm not blogging much because some things must be kept to ourselves.  I know though that friends are praying for us.  And we love each of you.  And when the rain slows to a trickle we'll reach out again. 

Now if I could just find that umbrella.

Hacked and hijacked!

My AOL and Facebook accounts were hacked and hijacked today.  I did not take a last-minute family vacation to London.  I have not been mugged.  I don't even have a current passport, nor can I afford to take a vacation to London, let alone a last-minute vacation.

So, I do not need anyone to send me $2,450.  On second thought... kidding.

I had Facebook temporarily suspended my account.  I don't know when it will be reinstated.  Additionally, all of my email contacts have been erased.  My outgoing mail and my existing emails were erased as well.

Feel free to call my cell if you need to reach me.  If not, please contact me on one of my email addresses.  The hacker created a dummy account that looks very similar to my aol email address, so carefully check and see if you are getting email from emmahaLe or emmahaIe.  The former is correct.  Due to the font choice on some of your browsers they may appear the same.

And if you ever do decide to send me $2,450.00, please do not wire it to London. ;-)

A quick update from an exhausted mommy.

I can't believe it's February 14th and I am just now updating our blog.  What an insane (half) month it's been.   Max has been so, so sick.  Thankfully he's finally on the mend.  Most of you are aware of the details, and I really don't have the energy to relive them.  What matters most is that he's (fingers crossed) finally on the mend.

I used to love winter.  It was one of my favorite holidays.  (Note:  I just re-read this a day after I posted it.  Winter as a holiday?  I am exhausted!) Times like this make Florida seem so much more enticing, and I swore I'd NEVER live there again.  Still, family is there so you never know.  That's a decision for a future time - at least after Frankie graduates from high school.

Michael is really enjoying his job at Flowserve, which is a huge saving grace.
I am half awake, recovering from being the mom of two sick babies.
Most of our updates seem to happen on my Facebook account, but I still want to add things to this blog... this journal of sorts.

Just for right now though, I am a tired mommy.

Max has a terrible diaper rash thanks to truly wonderful antibiotics.
Thomas is a gigantic two year-old, the size of a four-year old.
Adam is an incredibly cooperative kid and helps me so very much.
Frankie is a teenage girl.  Need I say more?

So for now, this is our quick little update.  It's not exciting, or heart-felt, or emotional.  It's just overdue.

And so, until next time dear readers.

<3 Kristin

It's all relative - Part I

These people:
 

 

are related to me.

They are my step-brothers, Doug and David (with their wives Michele and Stacie), my Aunt Eileen, My great-aunt Adeline, my dad (John), my mom (Sherry), my step-father (Hiram), my great-aunt Flo, and my Uncle Joe.  And each one of them brought unique and amazing pieces to help build the whole of who I am today.

Doug was the straight man in the family.  He has the best deadpan sense of humor of anyone I know.  He showed me that it was okay to be goofy, to take things less seriously (and those of you who've known me for a long time know that I was a little too serious for a kid), and that even the jokester of the family had a tender heart.  I love my brothers.  

David was the baby of the family.  He let me torture him and he laughed about it.  We'd lock him in hampers, closets, and toy chests.  He let us comfort him when he was afraid of the thunder.  He was gentle, sweet, and kind-hearted.  He was the ideal kid brother.  Cute, easy-going, and happy, and eager to please.

Greg is not pictured here.  He left us in 1992.  We were eight months apart and were terribly jealous of one another.  We swam together, played together, and thought we saw a UFO together.  We weren't close as teens, but he had such a tender heart.  I wish I had seen it then and had known how to honor it.  

I met these boys when I was five years old.  Without these three boys, my step-brothers, I wouldn't know what it is to have siblings.  And even though we didn't grow up in the same house, we spent time together on visits and during the year I lived with them in Florida.  Doug and David married great ladies, and I am honored to include each of them (and my adorable niece Julia and cutie-pie nephew Jackson) in my family.

Also not pictured is my step-mother, Mary Kay (because I do not have a picture of her on my computer and she stubbornly refuses to get on Facebook [my #1 source for pictures]).  We've spent a lot of time at odds, and it is only as an adult that I've come to see her as who she really is.  She doesn't pull any punches.  You always know exactly where you stand with her.  She is 100 percent Italian, and if one could be a higher percentage than that Italian, she would be.  She is an amazing cook, has the hugest heart, and holds the fiercest sense of protection for the people she loves.  She is a wonderful artist, extremely bright, and steady as a rock.  It is only after becoming an adult that I realized that many of my holiday traditions are those which she taught me to own.  I am so grateful to her for teaching me what it is to be a core family.  She and my dad made sure that we kids were a part of everything.  From Tuesday night bowling leagues, to soccer, to getting ready for Christmas Eve dinner, and cleaning the nightly dishes, I understand family togetherness through the context of the experiences she gave me.  She taught me that kids deserve to be kids and that they only get one childhood.  More importantly she taught me that it is a parent's duty to guard that childhood and make it memorable.  My kids benefit from that lesson every day.

My dad.  My parents separated when I was three years old.  I lived with my dad in Houston while my mom tried to re-establish herself in New York.  My dad was always my hero.  Some of my very favorite memories of are of the time we spent together.  He taught me how to swim and we spent tons of time in the pool.  He took me to movies.  He sat with me in the steam-filled bathroom combating my recurrent croup, patting my back while I hacked my lungs out.  He put calamine on me when I had chicken pox.  He made amazing crock-pot meals and the best lasagna in the world.  When we lived far apart, he would just show up for a visit out of nowhere.  He stayed involved.  He stayed connected.  He made sure that I was always his daughter and always a part of his life.  Not long ago I commented to him that I really admired him for staying such a part of my life even though we lived 1300 miles apart.  In the '70s, it was relatively socially acceptable for a divorced dad to leave the ex and kid behind and start anew.  I mentioned that to him and told him that I admired him for sticking around.  Know what he said?  "It never crossed my mind to do anything but."  My dad is a man of few words, but I don't need a lot of words from him to know how much he loves me.  His actions tell me, even now.  All the time.

My mom.  She is the toughest to write about.  She  was the single person on this earth who knew me best.  She taught me (and boy did I resist it) the strongest work ethic.  She taught me to be generous to everyone.  She taught me to be a friend to people from every walk of life.  She taught me to be a chef.  I can honestly say I learned more in her kitchen than I did in an entire formal culinary arts program.  She was one of the most courageous people I've ever met, and also the most determined.  She died eight years ago, at the age of 53,  after a very long battle with a very aggressive form of cancer.  Her death changed me forever.  If I had to choose one thing that I miss most about her it would be that I would give anything for her to know my children.  Anyone who knew her knew how amazing she was with kids.  She loved children.  She would have been an incredible grandmother.  I don't have adequate words for how deeply I mourn the loss of that grandmother for my children.  But, this is a grateful post so I will move forward.  I am grateful for all the mommy-daughter dates spent walking around Greenwich village, eating chicken teriyaki at Teriyaki Chicken and Burger World, buying stickers for my sticker collection.  I am grateful for summers on Fire Island, decorating my bedroom together, and making sure that I had amazing birthdays.  I am grateful that she encouraged me to explore the things that interested me, taught me the value of a good garage sale, put me to sleep with "The Man in the Moon" and woke me with her off-key renditions of "You Are my Sunshine" and "Lazy Mary Will you Get Up?"  I am grateful that she tortured me with CBSFM oldies and early Sunday morning drives to get bagels.  I don't think anyone can fully verbalize all that a mom is.  There is no substitute in the world for a mother's love, an I am grateful to her for the love she gave me.

My step-father is impossible to describe, but I will do my very best.  I have known him since I was almost four years old.  I've known him through his hippie stage, his Yuppie stage, and now his (as he calls it) senior citizen time.  He views the world uniquely - with his own innocent cynicism.  I know that's sort of contradictory, but he's sorta contradictory.  He has a child-like enthusiasm for new friends, new experiences, and possibilities.  He soul is exquisitely sensitive.  He's an artist, a gentleman, and a gentle man.  He was my advocate when my mom was too harsh.  He helped me clean up from dinner when it was too much work.  He always made sure that he was my friend, even when I was not a friend back.  He took me to Coney Island.  He took me out of school once or twice to celebrate beautiful weather and join him for a special beach excursion.  He brought fun.  I cannot entirely describe the joy of the connection we have.  He is just my parent.  And even though we're not biologically related, he is my family.  I know of no other way to describe him.

There are a few people mentioned that I have yet to write about-- namely, my aunt, great-aunts, and my uncle.  I'm saving them for my next post.  So stay tuned, my truly dear readers.  More to come.  More to come.

At last... one of many overdue gratefuls

It has taken me so long to be able to sit down and post the grateful post follow-up that I've been wanting to write. So without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to some very special people who helped shape my life. 

Most of us have been blessed by the loving influences of others.  Often, those people tend to be related to us.  Some of them are not.  Some of these friends, acquaintances, teachers, colleagues, and so forth come into our lives for only a short time.  Some are part of our lives forever.  Whatever the amount of time that passes within the relationship, they leave indelible marks on who we are and who we become.  Today I want to write about just a few of the people who have forever changed me for the better.

Maura McGovern was my high school guidance counselor.  I can remember sitting in her office (which was loaded down with cards and letters of gratitude from former students-- and for good reason) on so many days.  She was an anchor for me.  She listened.  She didn't judge.  She was always there for me.  She was not just doing her job.  She did her job with compassion, empathy, and genuine love.  She was a big part of my ability to get through the day-to-day drama of being a teenager.  I am not sure that I would have made it through high school without her.

Irma Galarza was my junior-high Spanish teacher.  It is solely because of her that I love the Spanish language.  She was fun, fashionable (uncommonly so for a teacher in that time), stern, and kind.  Her birthday is the day before mine and I think of her every year on that day.  She was one of those teachers who, for me, made learning truly fun.  She praised me and gave me the extra attention I craved. I am still in touch with her via e-mail today.  In fact, she is building a retirement home in Puerto Rico, and has invited my family to visit her there.  And the best thing is, she means it.

Collen McCabe Lucas and Karen Manzi McCabe O'Brien, are my best friend from childhood, and her mom.

Colleen was the sister I didn't have.  We spent endless hours playing hand clapping games on the mailbox outside my apartment, making forts out of cardboard boxes outside her apartment, roller skating, playing on the beach near her mere mere's (whom I also love dearly) house in Connecticut, tickling each other's backs when we were supposed to be going to sleep.  We traded clothes, even when she was a foot taller than me.  She was the only guest at my wedding (other than my parents).  Since the day we met (the first day of first grade), she has always been a protector of people.  I cannot count the number of times she stood up to my mom for me (and trust me, NOBODY did that).  She is still that protector of people today.  I have no doubt in my mind that those who know Colleen could easily attest to her genuine concern for the well-being of others.

She is truly beautiful in every way that counts, and even in some that don't.  Although as a child I always envied her Barbie-doll good looks, it is as an adult that I admire her giving heart, inner strength, and her core beauty.  She gave me the gift of an amazingly flexible part-time job that allows me to contribute to my family's income without leaving home.   She cannot begin to know how much it means to me to be able to add much needed funds to our monthly income without having to feel the terrible pain and guilt of leaving my babies at home each night.

There are many, many other significant things I could tell you about the ways she has blessed not only my life, but the lives of my parents as well.  But she is humble, and I know that she knows what I'm talking about.  And I truly hope she knows how grateful I am to her for all that she has done and still does for my family.

We live far apart.  We have incredibly busy, incredibly different lives.  Our opportunities to connect are rare.  But so is the love we hold for one another.  My mother used to call us "naked souls" because we knew one another before we became the people we grew up to be.  I truly believe that those people are most precious, and I treasure them dearly (as I do her).  I miss her.  I wish we lived closer.  But above all I am better because of her.  I will always love and appreciate her for that.

 
Karen was my second mom.  There are so many memories of life with her in Brooklyn, Connecticut, and Mameroneck.  I couldn't even tell you where those memories begin and end, but I can tell you this:  I have never known anything but love and kindness from my Kar.  She is responsible for introducing me to the notion that Jesus Christ is really the son of God.  She went out of her way to ensure that even after she moved out of Brooklyn, my best friend and I still had each other.  She is responsible for a million happy memories.  And even though we don't get to speak as often as we wish, the love we have for each other never wanes.  We can always pick up where we left off.  She, like Colleen, knows me at the center of my soul.  These two women know me by heart.

Hilda Gootenberg, Lloyd and Michele Gootenberg

Hilda was the mother of my aunt's ex-boyfriend.  Long after they stopped dating (and even married other people), she stayed involved in my life.  She was kind to me.  She made sure I was entertained.  She took care of me.  She didn't have to at all.  We weren't related.  There was no future possibility of us being related.  She was just a source of light and love in my life.  I can't remember a specific memory where she showed me some special kindness; rather I remember many small moments where she made me feel a part of her family.  I will always be grateful for that. 


Lloyd and Michele are Hilda's son and daughter-in-law.  Long after Lloyd and my aunt stopped dating, Lloyd continued to include me in his life.  He didn't have to.  There was nothing "in" it for him.  He was a bachelor in his late 20s/early 30s, who was just good and kind to this kid.  He took our family out on his speedboat many times (some of my favorite childhood memories).  Even while he was dating Michele, he still made me feel included.  Truly, he had no reason to keep some random kid who wasn't even related to him in his life.  And not only did he include me, he went out of his way to entertain me.  He took me to see Annie on Broadway (front row seats too), to Buddies (a kid's funland that couldn't have been to fun for him), to Benihana, and Little Italy. And Michele embraced me equally.  These two people had absolutely no reason to stay involved in my life.  But I am so grateful that they did (and do today).

There were others - my third grade teacher, Mrs. Schwed, my kindergarten teacher at Washington Square kindergarten, Tanya (how I wish I knew her last name), my pre-school teacher in Houston, Mrs. Ducotay (I have no idea if I'm spelling her name correctly), my parents' friends, Claire and Jerry Warga, families that I babysat for (the Sorels, Hirschorns, and Porters), and Sheryl, who worked at The Store in Brooklyn Heights, and let me help her even though her boss didn't like it.

Each of these people opened their lives to me and not just took me under their wings, but embraced me and held me close.  None of them had to look out for me.  None of them had to go to the extent they did to validate the worth of my soul.  And although none of them are related to me by blood, each will always be kin in my heart because they made sure I knew that that I knew I had value.  I now know that it is no small feat to take on someone else's child.  It is even a bigger feat to not just take them on, but to love them, treat them kindly, and unselfishly sacrifice their time for that child.

There are many, many more people that shaped me.  But that post is for another day.  Hopefully, now that the holidays are gone, it will be another day in the near future.