An Open Letter to My Family About Family Vacations

Dear Family,

As you know, we are packing up our bags again and going to embark on a family vacation.  Yay!  I love to travel so there is a huge part of me that feels giddy with excitement.  I love having new experiences, especially with you guys.  I mean, seeing the world with your favorite people - there is nothing like it!

However, there is a part of me that is feeling a bit of dread creeping in.

Our last getaway, the meltdowns and tears shone a harsh light on your misaligned expectations of a “family” vacation.  I really want to stress that the word “family” is the operative word in that phrase.

A family vacation should not be confused with a vacation that you take by yourself.  Although we do our best to make sure everyone’s needs and wants are met, family vacations are not individualized experiences.

Kids, that means sometimes you will need sit at the breakfast table in a restaurant and be cool while your Dad and I drink a second cup of coffee so that we have enough energy to ensure you both have a fun day. 

via GIPHY

Sometimes that means I will have to take you to an arcade, an activity that I would put in the same category as having Pitocin without an epidural (one never forgets that kind of pain.  Ever).

Sometimes that means eating a meal that is comprised out of familiar foods that you eat at home, yet presented in a slightly different way.

On the other side of that, your Dad and I expect to eat a hot dog for dinner at some point although we would much rather enjoy a steak and a glass of wine.

Here’s the thing – we are a family, a team!  We are going out into the world and experience it together as a family.  It will not always be about you and what you want to do.  It will be stepping out of your comfort zone; it will be about compromise.

I hate to drudge up the past, but remember the last time we went to Myrtle Beach? At any given time someone was complaining how salty the ocean tasted or how hot the sun was or how communicating his or her disappointment about the limited screen time or complaining about the complaining. (That last one was me – I’ll totally own it).

This is a picture of the three of us (Harrington take the picture) eating breakfast outside because someone (Thomas) wanted to watch TV instead of the ocean.

We were really mean parents and decided to take our kids to a fun restaurant
that served food that they loved.

I waited until day 4 out of a 7-day vacation before reining it in.  I forced encouraged you both to look for seashells in your pjs before breakfast to remind you
that vacation is when you are supposed try new things. 

Let’s do the direct opposite of that.

This is not exclusively your vacation, but a communal experience.  If you approach this trip with an open heart and embrace the spirit of adventure, the fun factor might be higher than if you are constantly disappointed that all of your individual “wants” are not being met.

But shit is going to happen regardless of all of the hours that I spent planning this trip. 

All I ask of you is to limit yourself to one complete meltdown each. I get it – we all have a breaking point, even me (maybe especially me).  But I will not tolerate any diva bullshit that will derail group morale.

Now let’s go make some magical memories!

Love,

Mommy

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Portrait of Despair

I see someone I love very much on the train tracks.  She looks so small and vulnerable in the distance.  And all of a sudden, I see that a train is coming. It’s far away, but I can see the tiny prick of light from the headlight and hear the quiet whistle in a distance.

I start to yell in hopes that help will arrive.  I see others coming to her aid, but the temporary wave of relief is fleeting as I realize that the others don’t hear the train getting closer.

Now everyone is on the tracks, and I am instantly filled with anxiety because they don’t hear me screaming at them to get off the tracks nor do they hear this train rushing towards them.  This train is loud and scary, and that tiny light and whistle heard in the distance is becoming brighter and more thunderous by the second.

I yell louder and louder, desperate for someone to hear me.  I am afraid to get closer to the tracks because I don’t want to get injured.  I’ve been hit by that train more than once, more than twice.  And now I am responsible for other human beings other than myself, human beings that are now old enough to discern when something is not right,

Instead I continue to scream, “Don't you hear the train? It’s coming so fast!  Why are you ignoring it?  Why are you ignoring me?”

The train roar is deafening, covering up my desperate cries.  I cannot fathom how the people on the tracks cannot hear this.

I yell some more, but it’s futile.

The next logical step would be to run and get help, however, I’m afraid to tell anyone else because this train that is coming to destroy my loved ones, it's a secret.  When discussed with loved ones, big, angry fireworks explode to cause a distraction from the real issue, the issue of the train barreling down the tracks with no regard to anyone or anything.

 
I am stuck; immobilized by fear. No one can hear me over the rumble of the train and the blast of the fireworks, but I’m scared to tell anyone.

Even though the train is so close now and it is clear no one on the tracks can see it, self- doubt starts to creep in.  No, creep is not the right word.  More like flood in, and I am drowning in self-doubt.   Maybe this train isn't really here. Maybe I am the one imagining all of this.  It’s hard to stay focused on the train with all these volatile, abrasive fireworks going off all around me.

Until the trains hits.

It’s messy and sad and unbearable.

I thought nothing could be worse than the anxiety of trying to get others to listen.

Wrong.

Guilt. The guilt that pierces right through to my core and sickens me with its vileness - that is the worst.  It’s the guilt that I didn't protect my loved ones and keep them safe.  The guilt that I let my warped distorted sense of loyalty and the irrational duty of secret keeping prevent me from doing what was right is the worse.  It makes me feel dirty and no amount of hand washing will ever make it go away.

 
Only time seems to make the guilt slowly fade away, and I start to feel hopeful that I may start to feel normal.  I do normal things, like brush my teeth, brush my kids’ teeth, make meals, and do laundry.

But when it’s quiet, I find that guilt slowly undulates into anger and back into guilt.

When I am exhausted from the raging course of my emotions, I lay still in hopes that it is peace that emerges from the dark waters.

But right now, that is not the case.  I am left with steady flow of despair which constantly erodes my sense of well-being.    

Summer Adventure Part Two: Chicago’s Kimpton Hotel Allegro Edition

As you may have read, I just returned from New York City from a family vacation.  A few short days later, this road warrior embarked on a special journey to Chicago.  Kimpton Hotel Allegro invited me to stay with them and participate in their Allegro Kids Rule summer program.*

Seriously?!  I was so excited to take part in this adventure!  First of all, the hotel is amazing! The décor is elegant yet fun and playful. 

During their Kids’ Hour, lemonade and popcorn are served in the lobby along with a Wii station and board games to play.  Then, directly afterwards is Wine Hour.  Did I mention that they are both complimentary?  How cool is that?!

The Allegro Kids Rule program also includes a scavenger hunt which was a great way to see the city and introduce me to the  kid-friendly sites of Chicago.

Fun Fountains!

Lots to see walking around!

Sue at the Field Museum

Top of Sears (Willis) Tower with Marie's new friend Sami

Chicago-style hot dog (my first ever), and it was deliciously spicy!

Chocolate chip pancakes at 312

 Fun times, but when I return with Harrington and Thomas, I would break up the scavenger hunt into two days because Marie had a blast playing at the fountains and wanted to see *everything* in the Field Museum.

To be honest, after the series of five-alarm meltdowns Marie had in New York, I was a tad bit nervous to take her on this trip.  Turns out, I really didn’t have that much to worry about (minus a three-alarm meltdown in the Field Museum! Thank goodness that my new friend Lynsey from Moscato Mom and her daughter were very understanding).  I think what really helped was the location of Hotel Allegro.  It’s a short walk to State Street and Millennium Park, but it is tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city.  I could be shopping at the Disney Store and eating Garrett’s Popcorn one minute, and relaxing in our super cool room the next.

Also, 312, the restaurant adjacent to the hotel, was amazing!  Not only was the food delicious (best brioche French toast I have *ever* had), but the service was incredible.  They didn’t have chocolate chip pancakes on their menu, but I asked if they could please make some for Marie.  They totally did, and they were the yummiest, gooiest she had ever eaten (guess I’m going to have to step it up and put more than three lonely chocolate chips in each pancake).

Traveling is one of my most favorite things to do in the whole entire world.  It does something for my soul; I feel renewed and energized experiencing life outside of my little suburb.  I was so excited to share my passion and this adventure with Marie.  I place a premium on stretching the boundaries of life beyond my Babes’ backyard, and this was a wonderful opportunity to do so.

I am now plotting and scheming on a return visit to show Harrington and Thomas all the amazing sites we saw! 

And to be quite honest, I think Chicago is my new favorite city.

How’s your summer vacation?  Have you been on any adventures?

*Kimpton Hotel Allegro picked up the tab for the room, parking, and some meals; however, these opinions are all mine!

How to Survive a Family Vacation with Little Kids

 As you know, I have been preparing for our family vacation.  I have written it about it here, here, and here.  And guess what?  The drive went really well!  Yay!

However, the rest of the vacation wasn’t *exactly* how I imagined it.  During our twelve hour car trip, I reflected a bit on what went wrong differently.  Number one thing I would’ve done differently was to prepare my suburbanite Babes what life in the big city is all about (walking, lots of walking).  I usually do lots of prep work with them (we watched the Disney planning video for months before we went)!  However,  we had to make some last minute changes to this vacation(more on that later!), so I was preoccupied with making the trip actually happen as opposed to explaining the rules for riding in the cab (apparently is frowned upon if children play with the window controls.  Understandably so).

Here is the rest of the information I have processed and felt compelled to share with you so your family vacation is a success!

First, change the word from “vacation” to “adventure.”  Vacation conjures up images of relaxing on a beach with a drink and a bag of chips.  However, on an adventure, you never know what you are going to expect.  Maybe a yummy frozen hot chocolatefrom Serendipity.  Perhaps a whirlwind of a time at the American Girl store.  Possibly a homeless man getting dressed in the middle of the sidewalk. You never know – it’s going to be an adventure!

If “adventure” doesn’t work, try using the phrase “team building exercise.”  We all need to work together if we are going to walk 10 blocks (which my delicate suburban Babes thought was a country mile).  If everyone six and under starts to cry because that tenth block was just too much for their little legs, start using the word “experiment.”  Therefore, if your daughter is crying because she wanted to spend her college fund at the American Girl store while simultaneously complaining about walking a few blocks, you can say that this experiment failed, and it doesn’t sound as bad as your family vacation was, at times, uncomfortable.

When it comes to restaurants, I found it best to eat a place that has a kids’ menu and an extensive cocktail menu as well.  Let’s just say, before you had brunch at a quaint little place called Cafe Luxembourg, you had a wonderful day at Central Park and taking in the musical Freckle Face Strawberry.  Since you (foolishly) assumed all the wiggles were out and had promised pancakes, you were in the clear for a delightful meal.  Oh, no.  Quite the opposite.  Thomas had a full on meltdown complete with hitting and screaming hurtful things like “I HATE YOU!  I HATE PANCAKES!”  I tried talking to him calmly.  I tried taking him outside, but we ran into homeless man screaming FUCK as loud and as many times as he could. 

New York City is a big place, but there was room for only one meltdown, and since we were on this guy’s home turf, we let him have this one.

Back inside with an angry child who was not being allowed to express his true feelings for the horror of having pancakes in the middle of the day, I politely asked the waiter about the Rosemary Fizz cocktail.  Without skipping a beat, he said, “Delicious, I’ll have one for you right away.”  (I felt an instant bond to this waiter and secretly wished to trade places with him so he could watch my kid while I took over his shift).

Since all my strategies had failed, I decided to just drink my Rosemary Fizz and ignore Thomas in hopes that everyone else would do the same.  Success!  (I think.  I had stopped paying attention at this point and was focusing solely on my drink).

Will we go on a family vacation again?  Yes.  Any time soon?  As soon as it takes for me to forget about how mortified I was by their behavior.

You may be thinking, “What?!  That’ wasn’t so bad!”

I must take a break before I talk about how my kids need to learn the finer points of being a well-behaved house guests while staying with family.

Please, I beg of you, tell me about your worst family vacation adventure team building exercise experiment memory!

Reasons I *Heart* Valentine’s Day

I love Valentine’s Day.  I know some people get all uppity and cynical; they claim it’s a Hallmark Holiday.

I could not disagree more.

I am totally OK with a holiday that

A) Celebrates people I love.  It’s not that I need a holiday to do that, but there is something about this holiday that adds some fun and lightness to it.  Maybe it’s the fun décor or yummy treats without the stress of planning parties to accommodate everyone’s different and busy schedules.  It’s just fun.  (Side note: it’s not like we don’t buy presents and are nice to others only at Christmas.  Why does Valentine’s Day get the bad rap?)

B) Breaks up the monotony of winter. (Which has been especially monotonous with barely any snow and 47 days plus of sickness).

C) Revolves around eating chocolate in various forms.  Cupcakes, candy, whatever.  I love it.  (Except Hershey Kisses.  Ever since Thomas was born, that particular brand of chocolate tastes like dirt to me.  At first I was sad.  Now, I (and the scale) am totally fine with it).

Here’s the thing: I love holidays mostly because I love the tradition of it all.  It makes me feel happy and cozy.  I want The Babes to look back and say they had fun baking cupcakes and making cards.  I want them to remember eating their favorite meal (this year, it will be tacos) on the fun tablecloth. 

I have vivid memories of sitting around my kitchen table as a kid opening the Valentine’s card and some candy from my parents and brother.  Ordinary, yet special stuff.

Traditions, whether it’s shopping for Valentine’s Day stuff or baking Christmas cookies or eating pizza while we watch a movie together every Friday night, are what hold us together as a family. 

Hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day!

Memories – A Rerun

Staying positive is important to me.  I work very hard at it. 

Very hard.

It’s not something that comes naturally to me.  Right before Christmas, I was on a good clip of love and light. 

I was working out, making good food choices, having fun with The Babes, and blogging.  Life was good.

And then January 1^st of 2012 came and blew my positivity streak to bits.  In case you haven’t been reading in a while you can catch up with how the first forty-eight hours of 2012 rolled into one bad month.

I was staying all positive, believing that February would be when 2012 was going to start to turn around.

Not so.

This Sunday, I lost a very special uncle.  I am very saddened by this, and my heart aches for my aunt.

I am going to celebrate his life and honor my aunt’s courageousness in taking such good care of him by rerunning this post I wrote about them when they moved to Arizona.

_________________________________________________________________

I used to hate Change.  Not just hate, but detest Change, cringe whenever things were not the same.  If Change were a person walking down the street, I would avoid all eye contact and ignore it. 

After having kids, I’ve learned to accept change.  Because whether I like it or not, it’s going to happen.  So Change and I became like Facebook friends; acknowledging each other but not really committing to a real relationship.  Eventually that relationship evolved, and I would say Change and I are pretty friendly with each other.  Especially when Change means less sleepless night.

However, there are certain circumstances when I want to revert to my prior relationship with Change and look away when it comes near.

Like when my Aunt Nicki and Uncle Ned sold their house in Michigan to live in Arizona for six months.  I didn’t expect to become so emotional when I found out, but I did.  I have so many wonderful memories in that house.

Like the time when I was sixteen and home all alone overnight.  I thought I heard something, and they didn’t mind that it was midnight when I came over because I was scared.

I also learned to make golumpki (stuffed cabbage) from my grandmother’s recipe at her kitchen table.  I also gained a whole new appreciate for the effort put forth for our traditional Christmas entrée.

I will miss the Heritage Hallway.  There was a hallway filled with old pictures of my aunt and uncle’s family.  Whenever I would look at these photos, I felt connected to my family, especially my grandfather, who passed away long before I was born.

Aunt Nicki hosted my bridal shower at her house and worked together with my parents and other aunts and uncles to create a beautiful party.  And the next day, I went to Aunt Nicki’s house to visit with her and Aunt Karen.  I remember eating a giant bowl of cherries and just chatting with them.  Something so simple, but so memorable.

I also remember the time when Aunt Nicki and Uncle Ned came over to see me after Marie was born.  She made homemade chicken soup and chocolate biscotti.  A few weeks later, she helped me bring Marie, only six weeks old, to get an ultrasound of her head.

I remember feeling totally comfortable dropping Marie off so Aunt Nicki and Uncle Ned could watch Marie while I emptied out my former classroom with my Dad.  She was only 3 months old.

When Thomas was born, she came to see us and then dropped everything to watch Marie when there was a change in childcare plans.

I am not sure if Aunt Nicki and Uncle Ned know how much those moments mean to me.

It’s like this part of me and my family story is moving away, and it makes me sad.  When someone in the family network moves away, left behind is a gap.  I look back at all those important times in my life and realize the richness they have added to my life.

So instead of being sad because she won’t be in that home anymore, I am going to adopt a new saying.  Instead of saying, “Home is where the heart is,” I am going to change it to “Heart is home to our memories.”  

That house is not theirs anymore, but it doesn’t matter, because we all still have those memories with us.  They have done so many nice things for me and my family that I want to show my appreciation and support by cheering them on in this new chapter of their life.

Because that’s what family does.

My Thoughts on Christmas Eve

It’s Christmas Eve Eve.  There are only few mere hours left until the pinnacle of Christmas holiday.  I love how the traditions make me feel all cozy and warm and secure like cuddling up with my favorite blanket.  I love how they connect me with my childhood.   In a sea of change, I can count on baking cookies and listening to Johnny Mathis and watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

But then there are times when traditions highlight how different my life is now and how much I have changed from that little girl in her nightgown, afraid to get out of her bed just in case Santa was still unloading her presents.

Let me explain.

My Dad’s side of the family is 157% Polish.  He is one out of six brothers and sisters, and Christmas is A. Big. Deal.  The celebration is steeped in tradition.  Preceding the feast of homemade golumpkie (gwumpkie), pierogi, and kapusta, there is a nativity reading in which people from each family participate (sometimes in costume).  We sing Christmas songs until Santa arrives to give us presents (but not until after he gives us a rundown of our year to determine if we are on the good list).  Mad chaos are the only words to describe not only the flurry of wrapping paper being thrown about, but the fury in which we open our presents.

It’s nuts.

And I loved it . . . until Marie came along.

The intoxicated Santa that was kind of funny before now was scary as he slurred to my baby.  Eating dinner two hours late which had been annoying was now infuriating as poor Marie was forced to wait until her bedtime to eat dinner.

Other factors contributed to my bad taste of Christmas Eve.  My older cousins all have older, teenaged kids and do their own thing.   My Dad’s family is as thick as thieves and, even though I felt like I earned my way in by being a full-fledged adult with kids and a mortgage and a burning desire to participate in our family on a new level, I felt that they were not accepting any new members into the inner circle.

A lot of incidents occurred that made me feel awkward, but the time when we were over an hour late eating, and Thomas (not even one years old yet) was starving, I went downstairs to feed him. 

Alone.

 Yes, my Mom and Harrington came to check on me.  And a few of my cousins’ kids were down there talking about things I wish they wouldn’t in front of Marie (who was three).  But the majority of people were upstairs enjoying cocktail hour,  as I tended to my motherly duties.

I felt like I didn’t belong.

I decided not to go to Christmas Eve last year and our plans with Harington’s family fell through.  It felt weird not going to the big party, which was to be expected.  But The Babes did not crash and burn on Christmas morning, which was very nice.

So I decided to push forward with this new tradition, even though it didn’t feel quite right.

Until Aunt Carol called.

She told me how fleeting this all is.  One of the sisters had passed on and we need to stay together.  She told me that Christmas is about kids, and my kids brought the magic to Christmas.  She told me that I might be sad one day knowing that my kids would never know our Christmas Eve traditions.

I fought back my tears and said I was sad to not be going to Christmas Eve.  I confessed to her how I feel left out because I have little ones.   I told her that  I wanted to be a part of this family, but I felt that I just didn’t belong anymore.  (Not the tears were streaming down my face).

She said that I’m a part of this family.  As crazy as it is and how out of control Christmas Eve becomes, it’s special.  And it’s ours.

She told me to just think about it.

So I did.

And we’re going.

I’m excited to honor my traditions and share them with The Babes.  (I also feel more confident in how to navigate around uncomfortable issues).

But I’m also very emotional.  I feel emotional because Aunt Carol cared enough to kick my ass with a heart to heart. I feel emotional because it’s true; you never know how long you have with your loved ones, and this family gathering rich in tradition, is special.  I mean, I don’t know a lot of families that still get the majority of three generations together under one roof with homemade Polish food.

 I feel emotional because things have not been easy with this extended family: situations change and dynamics shift.  Also, some of the cousins I grew up, moved away, and I don’t come to Christmas Eve that often.  It all makes me sad.  I haven’t felt a part of this group for a very long time.  And I accepted my lot on the sidelines. 

I feel emotional because I now understand how Christmas can be a time to come together with family; the ties and history and love can be stronger than differences.    

Happy Holidays!

Nostrovia!

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Today is my Mom’s birthday:

My Mom has given me the gift of unconditional love and that has provided me with a strong foundation to be a good mom to my kids. It sounds so simple when I write it, but it has been so powerful. She’s the person I can go to about anything at any time, and I know she’ll be there for me. Always. My Mom has also taught me about the importance of integrity and honesty, not only by words, but by actions. She is the kind of person who does the right thing even if it’s not easy. She has always put my needs and the needs of my brother ahead of her own. I realize the sacrifices she made as a mother more now than ever. She didn’t have a lot of help when we were growing up because my dad worked a lot of hours and often second shift. She did a lot on her own, and her spirit of independence is a huge inspiration to me. She is now retired and getting back in touch with herself. I wanted to do something special for her because she is an incredible person and has been so giving of herself. She has taught me what true, unconditional love is, and for that I am grateful. Our family might not be perfect, but I know that no matter what, I am loved. As I get older, I realize what a gift that is because not everyone has that foundation.



Yeah, she’s a pretty incredible lady. Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you!

Top Five Reasons Why I am Happy With The Fact Today is Monday after Thanksgiving

Happy Cyber Monday, everyone!  Today I am posting over at Macomb Patch about my five top reasons why I am more than OK with today being a Monday after a holiday.  Here's the link!

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Here’s to the Next Chapter – May the Light Always Shine Bright

Before I get going on this post, I wanted to share with you a link for the post I did at Band Back Together. I am very proud of this post, and this is a fantastic website. Please take some time to check it out.

Also, I will be writing a post on recharging batteries. This post includes a survey I created over at The Skinny Scoop. Please check it out. I would love your feedback.

Ok, now down to business.

In the past three weeks, The Babes have hit quite a few milestones over here. Thomas got his first official summer haircut. Last summer, I didn’t have to cut it so short because it wasn’t as thick. But I could see the sweat mixed with sunblock dripping from his forehead and knew I had to do it. I am very partial to the longer, messier look, but it’s hotter than hell out here, so what is one to do? Thankfully, my brother was able to cut it short without looking, well, how I can say this, boring bowl cut.

Pretty damn cute, if you ask me! 

It kind of broke my heart a bit because he looked so much older. And even though I usually am not the mournful type because leaving a phase (especially a baby phase) means something much more fun and exciting. But this time was different.

I think this might have something to do with it.

As you know, Marie turned five last month. Which was pretty big in and of itself. And then two weeks later, she *takes a deep breath* lost her first tooth. It went from kind of loose to totally ready to fall it so quickly. Next thing I know, Harrington gave it one little twisty-turn and out it came. She looked like a character from Twilight as the blood came spilling out all over her other teeth. Ick.

"Holy shit!  What just happened!
Why does Mommy look like she's going to pass out?
And that rumor about the Tooth Fairy bringin $5 for
the first tooth better be true."

I was totally not ready for that. Not just the blood, but how it changed her face. It also changed how she talked. It forced me to look at her differently. She’s not the little two year old we took to Myrtle Beach with her chubby legs and wispy hair, barely able to put into pigtails. She’s not even the three year old who was not so sure of the play structure at the park.

No, she’s a five year old, who is losing her baby teeth to make room for the *adult* teeth.

As if that wasn’t enough, she graduated from preschool this week. And in the fall she will be going to Kindergarten.

"Big crowds?  Lots of attention?
This is so not my scene.  So much so
I could care less about the chocolate fountain.
Get. Me. Out. Of. Here. Now."

I am not usually that mom that’s all sad about moving on to the next phase. I was relieved when I was done with nursing her after ten lllooooonnnngggg months (and was happy not to have wash bottles anymore for Thomas). I joyfully said good bye to diapers (which, please, Thomas, please let’s start giving this potty thing a *real* try). I was excited when she started preschool.

I was even OK with her giving up her naps because we had more flexibility to do more fun stuff, go on more adventures.

But there is something about starting Kindergarten that just yanks at my heart strings. Maybe I look at through this lens of my youth. I always felt that I didn’t quite fit in and had a hard time making friends. I fear for the bullying that is out of control.

I’m afraid that Marie will loose that light in her eyes. The one that shines from the inside out because she’s totally excited about life and not afraid to be herself. Before Hannah Montana and all the other bullshit shows out there that tell her what “cool” is.

This process of letting go is so very bittersweet. (And if you saw my status on Facebook or Twitter, it’s like 60% Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate Chips . . . which has been my chosen method of self-soothing. Well, that and chocolate ice cream). (No judging . . . whatever works, right?) (Right?!)

As I said earlier, there will be new adventures to be had. I couldn’t have done Chicago and enjoyed all the sights we saw if Marie was still a baby. Some of my greatest childhood memories are going on similar trips and adventures. And I am looking forward to going on adventures with The Babes.

"I have found Heaven.  It's here in Chicago.
In the Ghirardelli Chocolate Shop. Mommy and Nana
are right.  Everything is better with ice cream."

One chapter is definitely closed.

A new one is definitely opened.

And no matter what, I will try to keep that light bright and shiny.