March 20006
It’s been over a month since I’ve talked to my oldest son. Texts, messages, and chats go unanswered. His dad’s birthday has come and gone. Crickets.
Life has rarely been easy parenting Luka. We adopted him from an orphanage in Russia when he was 32 months old. The only thing we knew about his birth mother was that she was a registered alcoholic. He was a loving and sweet boy.
One of his elementary teachers noted about him, that although school was hard for him, he was the most determined and hard-working kid in her class. She was sure that that tenacity would pay off for him in the future. Continue reading
Looking back at some real changes in my life would certainly include the birth of my two daughters. I am going to focus on the birth of my second child, who I teasingly call my #1 #2. (Get it – she’s my favorite 2nd child) See I try to make everything even outlining the importance of their being.
It was 2013 and I had been living as a single person for almost 5 years. Sam, our beautiful family black lab, had recently passed due to a horrible but thankfully quick struggle with throat cancer. I decided it was time to get another dog and this time, she was going to be mine. It was the first time I had been able to make a decision like this on my own.
I was 18 years old and sitting at Mom’s vanity doing my makeup. Mom came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. I looked from my face to hers and back to mine again and I started to cry a little. I said, “Oh My God… I DO look like you!” Boy, I sure know how to make someone feel like a million bucks! That’s just one way that I’m like my
If I had to choose which parent I am most like I would say a very little of either, but am a lot like my paternal uncle. 
My parents shared many of their characteristics with me. Some were learned and some were in my genes.
One of our favorite parts of the day was when the family got together in the dining room for dinner Something would hit one of our funny bones and we would start laughing. Next, the whole table was laughing and joking. Dad would seriously interject “Cut it out or someone is going to be crying soon”. The sad part was that he was often right. He would get impatient with the frivolity and one of us would get in trouble. Then the tears would start.
“Some day when I’m dead and gone… then you’ll appreciate me”. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve heard that phrase from Mom’s mouth when I’m doing or saying something to her that she doesn’t like.
