I have a lot of catching up to do, but for now this has been taking up a lot of my mental time.. Please keep Ty in your prayers and his family. I went to college with his dad Lou, his mom Cindy is an angel walking among us and his little brother Gavin is along for the roller coaster they call life. Ty isn't doing so great but his family remains an inspiration in love and hope to me.

http://www.superty.org/

Moody

Sweet, sweet adolescence. Well I suppose I had this one coming. I stretched my own adolescence and teen angst against my mom and made it last a good 15 years. I have finally achieved the prophecy of my own mother and "have a daughter just like me so that I will understand." Touche.

Keep the Change

I need to make some changes:

1. Financial Accountability: I want to track all of our spending for the month of August. I hope that this can curb my "40% off sale for cardmembers at the Gap" addiction, and other little nickel and dime ways that keep our credit card bills climbing and see if we can actually make it to the next paycheck without having to buy groceries on said Gap Visa. I would love to see if we could go one month without having to pay a credit card bill because we were careful. As ridiculous as I feel writing this, I don't think I have gone a month in the last 2 years where I didn't buy one item of clothing for myself. I never used to shop for myself and that damn Gap card has turned me into a monster.
2. The same philosophy applies to Dollar Bins and Dollar Store goodies. Junk. All of it.
3. I would love to add yoga to my routine. I'm too young and healthy to be as twisty and stressed as I am.
4. I need to change my tone with my kids. It's completely fair to get frustrated and even angry with your (well, my) kids. It's the tone that has got to go. I want to make sure that I nurture and not sever my relationship with my kids. Somewhere along the line this tie unraveled in my own upbringing and I won't let that happen again.
5. I need to stop being afraid of so many things. Eleanor Roosevelt (I think) said, "Do something that scares you every day." That's what I had to do when I went back to work. Took a deep breath and forced myself in the door. Fake it until you make it. Whatever cliche gets me through. But this crap about fearing public transportation, cities, petting zoos, dogs... knock it off and get on with it.

39 and 11/12

My 40th year. I feel like I accomplished some things that I set out to do... ran a 5K, got a job, successfully graduated a child from elementary school to name a few. But I feel like the clock is ticking so quickly and hope that while the last 10 years have flown by on the one hand... the day to day seemed pass by in a slide show of sepia moments. In the past 10 years I've moved a few times, had and raised 3 babies, got my Masters degree (3.96!!!), and made several houses homes. I've been incredibly lucky in life and love; and while other people around me have had life crushing blows I seem to be able to skate by with only a scrape here or there. Trying with all my anxiety laiden might to not sit around waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I can only hope the next 40 are as blessed as the first.

I'm Back

It has been way too long since I last posted, but I have been busy(ish). I went back to work. After 10 years at home I am back in the work force. Ironically, I was hired as a writing tutor for one of the public schools here, and with all the theory and content I've been brushing up on, I keep on thinking...ooooh I should really use that in my blog.
Anyhoots, I have had many many "seed ideas" to quote writing guru Lucy Calkins, (not to be confused with "watermelon stories") and want to just get down a few blurbs to try to get myself back on course.

• I like working. Shocking as it is. I don't actually miss the wasted time I spent lying on the couch cranking out 2 loads of laundry and emptying the dishwasher and letting the rest of the house go to hell. For so long I was completely paralyzed by a combination of laziness and feeling overwhelmed. I do miss the freedom to go where I want to and when, but I am definitely learning to budget my time more wisely. I feel smart mostly, but when I feel dumb at work I want to cry, then I usually do cry at home, and wish that my husband will just tell me, "don't worry babe, you were a kick-ass homemaker". But he won't. And he'd be lying. I do wish however that people who also work part-time would think twice about telling me how proud they are of me for getting a job (screw you! you can get a job, but i can't?) or telling me that I look like a grown up when I am dressed for work. (really.)
• I am obsessed with Pinterest. I have to admit that it sucks alllll of my time and has definitely kept me from precious writing time.
• It makes me sad that my friend who has bi-racial children feels that people rarely give her kids the benefit of the doubt about whether or not they should set up playdates with their own children. Many people kind of make sure that they are friends with the "right people" before they give them a chance. When I think about all of  the things I worry for my own kids, to have to worry about something like that just breaks my heart. Truly.
• I got to meet Karin Diamond of eyespeeledalways.blogspot.com. I gushed and carried on about how inspiring she is to me as a person and a writer. I felt like a complete goofball afterward, but don't care. I was as big of a dork as I was when I met Kelly Corrigan.
• I have had a knock-down drag out with my annoying neighbors. We are putting up a fence and I cannot wait. It is because of the tree. That story is for another day.

Well, it's a start.

Fences Make Good Neighbors



We are having an enormous silver maple tree taken down today. It gives us pretty shade in the hot summer, privacy on our patio, and it's a marker of things in this world that have been around for a lot longer than we have and potentially for a lot longer after we are gone. Silver maples are also very likely to be inhabited by squirrels, who hollow out the inside creating weaknesses that then cause huge branches to fall from great heights. The previous owner was a gardener who worked closely with an arborist on the various trees on the property and had some of the larger branches cabled to make it safer and in the event of a break, to keep them from crashing to the ground. Our neighbor has made several (whiney) comments about the tree, and even though we had a tree guy come out and look at it and give it a clean bill of health, I can understand his concern.

After the freak snowstorm we had here at the end of October, we realized that while there was no damage from this tree on ours or the neighbor's house (of which about 75% of the tree points in that direction) that we would take the tree down this spring. It is costing us $3000. Three. Thousand. Dollars. So being the decent neighbors that we are, we are taking care of it. Legally, we don't have to. If they so desire they can hire someone to come out and trim the branches to the property line. But that would require the use of the same bucket truck that we had to hire and would cost them $3000. (can you tell I am not looking forward to swiping the credit card on this one?) So I don't think he would do it.

So the other day after making small talk with me for a few minutes he asked us if we would also have the ends of another healthy tree that hangs over his driveway (barely) trimmed back. Mother f*cker loves to get things done for free. It is wayyyy up high and extends at most 4 feet over his driveway. By trimming it back to the property line, it would create an uneven balance to the rest of the tree from which hangs our tree swing. That his daughter goes on whenever she pleases. Which is fine. Except now he's in my numbers.

So I do this thing where I completely internalize whatever conversations I have with people and go thru a whole range of emotions rehashing it over and over and over. I see their side. I really do. Our driveway is under my other neighbor's huge pine tree which drops sap sometimes on my car. They also have a row of cypress that drops needles and makes kind of a mess in my yard. Can I ask them to take them down? You bet. Would they want to? Probably not. If we wanted to we could have them trimmed back. So instead I move the car back a few feet in the drive and bust out the leaf blower from time to time. I'm not being a martyr, just kind of rolling with the fact that I chose to live on a street that the houses are all pretty darn close to each other.

I tend to go through life trying to make sure that everyone else's wants are taken care of, and seethe on the inside. So today, after losing sleep over this for a week I spoke to his wife. With a smile on my face and a firmness to my spine I told her we weren't going to do it and why. I stood my ground. With my roots firmly planted. Much like the tree that's about to be cut to the ground, roots intact. I would love to put up a 6 foot privacy fence between our houses. But I can't. Because that would cost, like, three thousand dollars.

((sigh))

So lately, since January I guess, I've been having smallish panic attacks. They come along usually when I have a social event coming up, even something as minor as meeting friends for coffee, or a walk around the reservior. It can be a meeting with teachers, or having to get to the St. Patrick's Day parade. Nothing too great or small to cause the breathing to catch in my chest, my arm muscles to go slack (that's my favorite) and the paralysis of not being able to get organized and go take care of the smallest of tasks. It's obvious right now that my impending start date at work is casting it's shadow and slowing me down. But it's frustrating to have to gear up and power through to go to return our cable box to Comcast, fill out a W-2 form and attend a 40th birthday party tonight.

see saw

I haven't written in so long. This winter since Christmas has had it's ups and downs and as we seem to be heading full speed into spring (thank god) I feel like I should take a breather and get caught up. A breather. Ha. That's funny, because I feel like there are hours and days at a time that I just sit around getting nothing done. Paralyzed by not having a agenda. For example: yesterday I was supposed to go into Meg's art class and volunteer. Completely forgot, because I had nothing else going on. I sat on the couch watching Smash, while the birds chirped outside and the sun shone down on a brilliant 70 degree March day. On the days that I have a list or a plan, I get so much done, and end up facing myself in the mirror without the dread and sometimes self loathing that a lazy day can bring. That all said, I am looking forward to April 2nd when I start my new job. And absolutely dreading losing this freedom I have accumulated by having all three children in school all day. It's the perfect job. A writing tutor, in the public schools a town away. The money is exactly what I'd hoped, the hours are perfect. I will be working in the same school as a good friend, and I can finally put my Masters degree to work. I have the same vacations as my kids, plus the added bonus of extra weeks off when the tutors are not employed. I don't have to deal with lunch duty, morning duty, bus duty, conferences, parent BS, or even arranging for a sub if I have a sick kid at home. Perfect perfect perfect. ((sigh)).

I have been home for ten and a half years. I have not HAD to take a shower on a weekday morning more than a handful of times. I haven't had my professional abilities scrutinized by peers or superiors. I haven't had to answer to anyone in over a decade. Scary stuff.

But I couldn't have scripted it better. I always said that I would go back when the time was right and if the perfect opportunity presented itself. And it did. I interviewed for a math tutor position, and interviewing for that could have earned me and Academy Award, just convincing myself, let alone a principal and math specialist that I had the chops to teach 5th grade math. But things worked out even better when I mentioned in passing that I initially mentioned that I thought the job was to be a writing tutor and I have an English undergrad degree. So all the pieces really did fall into place. So here I sit. After reading several textbooks on what it takes to teach writing, and I realized that the best place to start is here. I hope to get my writing back on track and add some real purpose to my days. Wish me luck.

Happiness Project, Take 2

Last year (or perhaps the year before) I read the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. It helped me alot to force myself out of giving over to feelings of unhappiness, negativity and the like. I am going to revisit it and see if I can start to make some positive changes, and tap into the person that I know is hidden inside the helpless, hand wringing, wrinkle and grey hair scrutinizing person that winter turns me into. So here goes, I'm jumping in with both feet.

She (Gretchen) has a list that she came up with called The Secrets of Adulthood. They make an enourmous amount of sense, but may not be the kind of things that you realize on a day to day basis. Here they are.

1. People don't notice your mistakes as much as you think.
2. It's okay to ask for help.
3. Most decisions don't require extensive research.
4. Do good, feel good.
5. It's important to be nice to everyone.
6. Bring a sweater.
7. By doing a little bit each day, you can get a lot accomplished.
8.  Soap and water remove most staints.
9. Turning the computer on and off a few times often fixes a glitch.
10.  If you can't find something, clean up.
11. You can choose what you do; you can't choose what you like to do.
12.  Happiness doesn't always make you feel happy.
13. What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.
14. You don't have to be good at everything.
15.  If you're not failing, you're not trying hard enough.
16.  Over the counter medicines are very effective. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.
17.  What's fun for other people may not be fun for you - and vice versa.
18. People actually prefer thaty you buy wedding gifts off their registry
19. You can't profoundly change your children' natures by nagging them or signing them up for classes.
20. No deposit, no return.

Game on!

Snow Day. Hooray?

Two-thirds of the way through January -- woo hoo! I hate it. I usually get seasonal affect, but this year was ridiculous. It started on New Year's Eve and I've been fighting it since. Stupid tears, crippling bouts of not being able to get anything done but fill my Houzz Ideabook online, and spurts of yelling at the kids that I immediately regret. I've started working out again, but so far no relief, at least my jeans will appreciate the effort I hope. We leave for Florida in a few weeks, and it couldn't come at a better time. Today we had our first "real" snow of the season, and Tom had to work in Boston.  I thought ahead, organized the coat closet, set out snowboots, tons of gloves and mittens in the shoe bag oranizer thingy on the back of the door. Set 3 basic rules before the troops headed out at 830 this morning: 1. No snow in anyone's faces. 2. No snow down anyone's backs or necks. 3.When you need new gloves, come around to the front door and I will get you a fresh pair. Went upstairs to start stripping the beds to change the sheets. dingdongdingdongdingdong. Oh that goddamn back door doorbell. Youngest child crying and hysterical about cold hands. Hmmmmm... basic problem easily solved. See Rule #3. So I got mad at her and started yelling about her crying. At the front door middle child with about 4inches of snow on his head complaining about having snow down his neck. I went ballistic. Screaming at oldest child ((Rule #2!! Rule #2!!!!!!)) Dropped an F bomb, yelled at everyone to get in the house because oldest child told me he asked her to do it. Bananas. I went berserk.
It turns out he wanted snow piled on him like you would do with sand at the beach. They got me on a technicality. At that point I realized I could probably get 15 more minutes peace if they went back outside. Dry gloves, a new hat and a change of jacket later they were back out in the snow.

mad

So every couple of years my anxiety creeps up and gets in and rears its ugly head. And in every single case when it's gotten bad enough for me to reach out and get back in with a therapist, insurance coverage becomes an issue. The ironic thing is that my husband works for a big insurance company. We have a great quality of life from both a time management and financial stability perspective. We opted out of the company sponsored insurance plan because it is pretty expensive, and receive our insurance from the military. This is what makes me crazy(er). Now, granted, since my husband is a reservist and we live almost exclusively as civilians we are obviously not in the same vain of emotional or physical danger as those out on the front, or their families scraping by to keep it together back home. But, we are receiving the same healthcare benefits as the soldiers and their families. Now wouldn't it make sense for people who reallllly need mental health care to receive it? Not so, apparently. I'm frustrated, and I know there is away around it, some kind of out of network payment or other such nonsense. But I am thinking about the 20 year old military wife and mom in Kansas who's husband is overseas and is desperate and suffering from post-partum. Or the 19 year old kid who just got back from Iraq and doesn't know who to turn to. If it's this hard for me, how do they manage?

January

I keep stepping on the same pretzel in the kitchen. I need to sweep it up, but the recycling bin is blocking the closet where the broom is, and I don't have a dustpan anymore anyway. I finally threw it away, thinking it would force me to buy a decent one. The one I had would do that thing where just enough of the junk would slide under the pan, forcing me to go a little further a little further a little further with the pan, until I still had a pile by the trash can, dusty and gray, and would need to go get the vacuum anyway. That's how January makes me feel. Just when you think you've got it, there's always a garland, or a decorative Santa candy dish, or let's be realistic.. an entire Christmas village that needs to be put away. It's a long month, and luckily we've made it this far without any crazy weather yet. I dread the days when the forecast is in the 20s or worse. So I'm keeping my eye on March, with the promise of early bulbs popping through, the occasional 60 degree day and the reality of Spring being right around the corner. Right now we've got the rest of January to contend with. Looming like the big bulky vacuum cleaner in the hall closet that I don't want to deal with.

New Years Resolutions

1. Learn to change out a light fixture.
2. Learn some basic carpentry from my dad. How to use a saw and maybe how to cut an angle so I can make frames or crown molding or something.
3. Get a handle on my itunes account. It incenses me that my itunes screen keeps popping up on my computer, I don't really know how to sync it correctly to my phone, etc.
4. Get my photos off the computer and onto my walls and in albums.
5. Finish painting the kids' rooms (and the crappy dreary trim in the rest of the house). It's been 3 years and it still looks like shanty town up in here.
6. Write more. I loved blogging when I got started. I've been lazy and distracted and busy. I should be able to carve out 30 minutes a day to get back into it.
7. That said, when my family is home with me, be more present in the moment.
8. Continue to make small steps, like posting this semi lame blog post just to get back into the swing of things.

I Know This Much is True

We had a very crazy 2 weeks. This will be the abridged version of things that I will hopefully be writing about in the next few weeks.

• I am not awesome in a crisis. I did however, surprise myself by being more of a half full than half empty during the Pre-Halloween N'Oreaster, Storm Albert and subsequent 9 day power outage.
• I am not nearly as graceful or brave as my children during a stomach bug. I cry, wretch and carry on. Until I realize that one of my own is there in the trenches with me, barfing up his guts. It activated my mommy response and I was able to rise to the occasion.
• I don't find candlelight or fireplaces nearly as charming as I used to. I have a renewed empathy for people who go without. I understand now why you hear about people burning down their apartment buildings and homes trying desperately to keep their families warm. We were lucky that during the day the temperature didn't dip below 50 but the nights were cold.
• These are things I can live without (in an emergency)... cable tv, hot food, telephone, heat overnight when I am in bed....
• These are things I can NOT live without (in an emergency)... hot water, coffee, web access, heat in the evening and enough candlelight to read by.
• I am truly grateful that we had a full sized warm home to relocate to on the Cape when we needed it. As well as invites from family to stay with them.
• I yell too much and need to find some kind of self soothing methods, whether it's yoga, meditation or taking up smoking, something's got to give. If I've learned nothing from the people around me, including my immediate family, is that you never know what life's gonna throw at you, and you better be able to handle it.

Stay Little

My oldest is turning 10 on Monday, Halloween. I am having a really hard time with it. Not the turning ten part, but the fast train we are on that is heading right for middle school, high school, college..... I had to pick my son up over at the high school the other day, and looking at these enourmous, lurking, loud, texting, swearing, flirting teenageradults had me sweating and losing my breath. Literally. This is right around the corner. And next year when my tiny girl (why oh why didn't we decide to hold her in preschool for another year? well, she was ready to go to kindergarten and the state said, go ahead and send her, and when you are sending your first born to kindergarten, you don't even have a clue about the great big world you are sending them out into) is going to middle school, the eighth graders at her school will be gearing up for high school!! It's all too much. She's always been a mommy's girl, and still is. She loves to watch Extreme Couponing with me and loves to find snippets of things that we have in common, but there is a gentle pulling away. Sometimes with a look, or a tone of voice. This Halloween, she's going trick or treating with friends. At first, (I'm ashamed to admit) I tried to guilt her out of it... Are you sure? Really? Because, you know it's your birthday too, and I guess it'll just be me and Meggie and Crid... But then I realized what I was doing and back pedaled and told her to go have fun with her friends. I guess that's the right thing to do. I hate that next year she won't be with her brother and sister at the same cozy little school. It feels so far flung to have them scattered all over town. I don't like it. I don't like it. I don't like it. But I guess she's ready, and probably wouldn't take too likely to me trying to hold her back in 5th grade, even though I really want to.

Momma Bear

I am not a perfect parent by any account. I yell, I stomp my feet sometimes, and many nights my kids eat cereal for dinner. However, the balance is that I love my kids like crazy, do everything I can to keep them safe and happy and protected out in the world. They know at home, no matter what they do, that they are loved and cared for. That said, I am now going to go on a shortish rant about how angry I am at our school nurse.

When my oldest was in second grade, she was on a daily medication that unbeknownst to us was the cause of headaches, stomachaches, loss of appetite and full blown panic attacks. It took us several months of continuous trips to the doctor, specialists, eye doctors, a battery of blood tests, agonizing mornings before school, and yes, many many trips to the school nurse. She lost 5 pounds over the course of about 3 months, which doesn't seem like alot until you take into account that she only weighed about 55  pounds at the time. So she lost approximately 10% of her body weight from not eating. We had her tested for Lyme, mono, pneumonia, and even leukemia. We talked about taking her to a psychologist to see if there was something going on that she just wouldn't tell us. Finally, one morning up at school I was on the playground with Meghan after the bell had rung and she came outside to see me (totally against the rules and very out of character for her to break any rules at school) and I had to bring her in through the office because the doors automatically lock. After speaking to the vice principal about what had been  going on for months she decided to have the school psychologist call us, since I had told her the extent of her panic attacks and anxiety. When my husband and I met with him he was taking general background info from us and we mentioned the medicine she was on. Mind you, her pediatrician never found this to be a red flag. He had a subtle but jarring reaction when we mentioned it, but didn't give much info except that the medicine could have some side effects that we might want to look into. We went home, and looked into the side effects, and she had 100% of the side effects from this particular medication.  We took her off it immediately and saw a gradual but steady improvement in all of her symptoms and side effects.

Flash forward to yesterday. Three years later and this woman still holds some kind of weird grudge against my daughter, who when she was 7 went to her office... at her job... that she is PAID FOR... when she needed medical attention too frequently for her liking. I know some kids, when I was a teacher I called them nurslings, like to go to the nurse to get out of class, or for a little extra attention. But mostly the kids that are there too frequently are there because they need a little extra tlc. Maybe they have anxiety, maybe something bad is going on at home, or they are nervous kids, regardless, you are there to CARE FOR CHILDREN. I'm pretty sure it's in the job description. So anyway, she fell at recess yesterday and the on duty teacher sent her for an ice pack. "what is it now Erin?" is how she greets her now, any time she goes to the nurse. Like a few weeks ago when she had a sinus infection. And when she went back to return the ice pack.. a clipped "what Erin???" GFY lady. Stop being mean to my kid.

5K

I'm not a runner, but I surprised myself this past weekend by running my first 5k faster than I would have ever expected. I normally run a 15 minute mile on the treadmill. At the race I did an 11.14 mile, and finished in under 35 minutes. It's not from hard work, or dedication; it was because of this kid....

My almost 10 year old ran this race like a pro. She beat me and she would have beaten me by a lot more if I hadn't been afraid of losing her in the crowd at the finish line and let her go sooner. She didn't train. Heck, she didn't even have running sneakers on. I literally thought I was going to throw up as I ran the last 50 yards. On the video that the marathon posted I'm one of the few people walking across the finish line. Erin just sailed on through like FloJo. And then played a soccer game that afternoon. And another one the next day.

I have had "run a 5K" on my bucket list for years but never had the motivation or inclination to actually do one. For some reason, watching these races makes me very emotional. It's so inspiring to see people running or walking for a cause, or because they have overcome something, or used running as a way to better themselves. I did it because Erin asked me to run it with her. I knew that if I promised her, I would do it. So we did. I'm so incredibly proud of her and I'm proud of myself for really pushing myself out of my comfort zone. Now that I know that I can do it, if I want to do another it won't be a big deal. This was a big deal.



Max and Ruby

When I started writing this blog, I thought I would use it more frequently to chronicle funny little anecdotes that my kids say, that don't necessarily need to make it to Facebook. The other day I was letting Meghan (recently turned 6) choose an episode of Max and Ruby from OnDemand. She doesn't get the opportunity to pick a show, since her almost 10 year old sister monopolizes it with Food Network shows. But I'm glad that when given the chance, she picks from the little kids menu, Max and Ruby, The Fresh Beat Band, and just this summer asked to watch a few episodes of Sesame Street. So my sweet little innocent third born when given her choices of which title to choose, I think it was Rocket and Fairy Tale. She told me she wants a different one. Max and Ruby, Ruby gets a Boobie. And started cracking up at her own joke. And the beat goes on.

Room With a View

I don't have much to write about today, but this is the view from my desk, the hydrangeas are from my garden and the sunflowers are from the awesomely fabulous Trader Joe's.



911

Below is my memory of September 11. But first I need to comment on something that has always stuck in the back of my mind and I never heard it explored in its obviousness on the news. In the US, our distress call, nationwide, is 911. Did they pick that day on purpose. Snickering behind their hands? Knowing the bedlam they would cause. The fact that they would obliterate an enormous demographic of our 911 responders? At the same time rendering our ability to dial 911 useless? It is too obvious to even seem ironic. I'm surprised that I haven't heard it discussed.

As a former New Yorker, accent on the former, I felt like a poseur when I was feeling what I was feeling on and after September 11. I felt like I needed to validate that it somehow hit me harder, because my father had been a FDNY firefighter, and only had just recently retired. I knew people that died. Only 2 I could call real friends but there were many others that I had known, worked with, been at parties with, went to college with. I felt like I somehow had to acknowledge that, without being a narcisstic drama queen, or having a clever anecdote in a conversation when the all too common conversations about the attacks came up. "Oh, you're from New York City... Did you know....." I was a peripheral player, who was feeling homesick and terrified and depressed and displaced and couldn't believe that I was bringing a baby into this world. I was obsessed with obituaries and the then limited internet, trying to piece together my purpose or place in the craziness that was our post-911 world.

I copied this from the Notes of my facebook page; my memories of September 11.

On September 11,  I was at home in Scituate, Massachusetts; 8 months pregnant. I had opted not to start the school year since my baby was due in just a few weeks. I wasn't sleeping at night and had gotten into the habit of sleeping in. The phone rang shortly after the first plane hit. It was Tom in an incredibly calm voice asking me if I had the tv on. "You may want to turn it on. A plane just hit the World Trade Center." I immediately started to panic because, as a former Staten Islander the possibility of knowing several to hundreds of people that worked there was very real. Aunts and cousins that travelled in on express buses. Friends and family on the ferry and in the subways. Then the second plane hit. Like everyone else I was nauseated and appalled  by people jumping out of buildings. Then the collapse. Now I was freaking out because, not just for the obvious reasons of all the death and devestation. My sister worked the 10 am shift at a midtown hotel, and would have been on a bus into the city at 9 am. I couldn't get calls through. Phones were completely out at my parents house. I deperately called my aunt (who's 2 boys were FDNY EMTs and were probably at a makeshift triage unit waiting for the injured who never came) and my parents' neighbors, just to see if everyone was safe. Just busy signals no answers for hours.
 I was silently crying my eyes out. Riveted. Alone. In Massachusetts. I felt so removed and homesick, even though I hadn't lived in New York for 6 years at that point. My mother in law called me to distract me, but I didn't realize it at the time. She was rambling on about the movie Princess Diaries starring Anne Hathaway. I kept switching the topic to the Towers. She was trying to keep me from going into labor a month early by keeping me calm, but I couldn't see it then, I thought she'd lost her mind. I got off the phone and started going through my mental rolodex of all the people I had lost touch with who could possibly be there; firemen, police officers, finance and wall street people. I kept hearing about Cantor Fitzgerald. So familiar. I was wracking my brain. Billy Micciulli, a high school friend had given me his business card when I worked downtown. Holy crap. It had been a long time. Maybe he didn't work there anymore. Unfortunately he was the first of several names I would find out hadn't made it that day.
I finally got through to my parents, only to find that my sister hadn't gone into work that day, my aunt had missed a bus, my cousin was fine. But my retired firefighter father had grabbed his gear, hopped in the back of a pickup truck and joined countless other off duty and retired Bravest. Great.
I was obsessed with the television trying to watch and see if another of the few survivors would climb out of the rubble to the applause of the bucket brigade of so many hardworking people digging out rubble, bucket by bucket. There were so few. There were rumors as the hours passed of others, alive and trapped, everyone waiting. Names of the deceased started to trickle in, and I waited with baited breath for someone I knew. Amazingly, only a few friends were lost to me that day. Kevin Reilly, a smart, funny classmate of mine from Oneonta, lost his life in the line of duty that day as a firefighter. My father lost friends that day, but what was more difficult for him I think, were his friends' sons. A legacy lost.
So many brave men and women were taken that day, and I have so much respect and appreciation for the men and women who stepped up after that day to take their places, whether they had been waiting for a spot to open up at the academies or that went out after that day to take a stand. Thank you.