The One of Shells, Furniture and Watches

Today, we have been married 17 years! Woo-hoo! The gifts for this anniversary are shells, furniture or watches (who made this stuff up?).

But ... let's be honest here; it hasn't always been easy. I don't believe any marriage can be that has to weather serious illness and upheaval and raising children and all the other stresses of life. Bob and I certainly aren't perfect; we sometimes annoy, frustrate, anger, even hurt each other. And it seems that whenever I begin to think, "aha, we've got this - our marriage is GREAT!", something comes along to once again upset the apple cart. Perhaps that's God's way of reminding me to stay humble and to keep working.

Yet we are both committed to the vows we made on that October day. I think a lasting marriage is largely about just "keeping on", having each other's backs, and trying to improve one's own flaws while forgiving your partner's imperfections.

In that spirit, I want to share with you all the wonderful qualities Bob brings to our marriage and my life; and some of the many reasons I love him and look forward to the next 17 years!

Bob has one of the kindest, biggest hearts I've ever known; and that is huge to me. He goes above and beyond to give people second chances and help them out with his time, energy and money. If you are his friend, family, co-worker, or heck, the guy stranded on the side of the road, he will do just about anything to help you.

Since the day he first proudly introduced me to her, Bob has willingly shared parenting Cearra with me. Being a step anything isn't easy, but he's always included me, rejoicing in all the good times and hanging on though the rough spots.

Together we chased the dream of our son halfway around the world (twice). Doing so caused him some deep emotional pain, but he persevered because he believed in the love that would come from our journey.

Despite his protests, I know he really does love the cats!

Although he didn't have the best dad growing up, he has become a wonderful father to our kids. While sometimes Cearra rolls her eyes at his declarations of affection, she has no doubt he loves her unconditionally. And while Owen shows no signs of being the natural athlete he was growing up, Bob gets outside and plays catch with him with enthusiasm and patience.

Bob has always worked so hard to provide for us. Yes, sometimes I resent the late nights at the office, the missed occasions, the near constant calls and texts. But I am more proud of him for building a strong, thriving, well-respected business and allowing me the blessing of staying home to raise Owen. I could never thank him enough for that.

He is our rock. Through illness, tragedy, uncertainty - he does everything in his power to take care of me, Cearra and Owen.

Family is number one for him. He loves and honors his mother, and respects and appreciates my parents (as my mom has commented, she knows she sometimes drives him crazy but he would never, ever say anything to her!). He loves his nieces and nephews and has a great time playing with them.

Of course it doesn't hurt that Bob wakes up smiling, sings in the shower, makes me laugh with his goofy antics, lets me make interior design decisions, sends flowers, and teaches kids of all ages to fish. And I still think he's a hottie!

Happy Anniversary Bob. I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you into our future.

Toes in the Sand

Boy, did we get lucky! Various reports told us that it was monsoon-like last week here in Maryland; we were doubly thrilled to be in Hilton Head where the sun was shining and we were toes in the sand!

I see this view and exhale

Owen ate like a king ... lobster, Alaskan King crab legs, shrimp, scallops, gator, and chocolate fondue!

Old Oyster Factory

Old Oyster Factory

Wise Guys

Owen picked this restaurant "The Lodge"
because he saw the bear in the dining guide

Black Marlin

Of course it's not beer! What kind of parents do you think we are?
Owen much prefers hard liquor.
Ha!

 Dad spoiled us again by renting a cabana for the week, and Maryland the raccoon enjoyed it too.

  It was wonderful to spend time with Nana and Pop-Pop, plus Aunt Sue, and Uncle Rich and Aunt Cathy.

Bob photo bombs the sisters

Bob works very hard (read, we don't see him much during the week), so being able to spend days at the beach with him is very special for Owen and I.

My hunky hubby!

 Until next year ...

Where We Are. Now.

Dear friends, thank you for your calls and notes asking about Dennis. Asking how we all are. Most of the time I don't know how to answer. The world keeps revolving, dawn to dusk, and we must too. But there is not a single moment when it's easy.

It's been 194 days since that dark morning. More than 6 months; half a year. A long time but still unbelievable in so many ways. 

We go to work, and school, and hair appointments. We still laugh and chat, and watch too much reality TV. But we do it all, everyday, with a muffling pressure on our hearts. It never leaves.

We don't talk about the future. Medically speaking, it's not the place anyone wants to be. We know the facts and statistics, but no one wants to give up hope, or believing there could be a miracle.

We try hard not to hate the person who introduced selfishness into this situation. Who lies and hurts so many. We try to understand and forgive. Sometimes it works.

We think of him all the time. Remember his dimpled smile, his Dallas Cowboys enthusiasm, his laid back wit, and willingness to eat just about anything. We miss him.

We look at pictures of Cearra at 3, at a family party, during college graduation, by his side. And we wonder why she has to endure this pain. Why everything she dreamed has fallen, for now, out of her reach.

We speak in low tones deep into the night about how we can help her. To keep moving forward, to hang on to the possibilities ahead. We decide again with heavy hearts that there's not much we can do - it's all in her time and in her own way.

We pray.
We cry.
We try to believe that one day, it will be OK.
We wait.

What To Wear

If you know me IRL (or if you've just been reading this blog for a few years now) you probably recognize that I have a little "thing" about dressing Owen. Just click and read here if you need a reminder!

I was raised - and believe - that while clothes don't make the man, appearance matters. It's fun for me to shop for and put outfits together that look cute; and maybe by starting young we'll avoid those teenage years of having to tell Owen repeatedly that underwear should never appear above your pant line or that a ripped t-shirt is not appropriate attire for most occasions. But more than that, I just love when he looks like a mini J.Crew model or a walking illustration for "The Preppy Handbook". What parent doesn't want to think their kid looks adorable, right?

I like plaid shorts, Ralph Lauren, oxfords, rugby's, and sweaters with elbow patches (this is usually where Bob chimes in to say I might be turning Owen into a little nerd that gets picked on at school, but whatever). I don't like character anything, or sweatpants - I especially loathe fleece ones with elasticized leg openings - nor most t-shirts.

Last year was great. A school uniform of polo shirts and khaki's everyday meant that I was a happy mama. And no, Owen doesn't complain much, he understands "collar" shirts are for school. And Hilton Head. Least you think I'm a totally mean Momma, Owen is allowed to wear Monster Truck t-shirts (shudder) to the Jam, and on weekends at home he picks his own ensembles without comment from me, generally soccer shorts and a shirt. Sometimes all in the same color - the seven year old's mantra of matching.

Public school is a little different. He wore polo shirts and shorts of his choosing for the first two weeks without fuss, but I quickly realized I'd have to ease up a bit. For one thing, every Friday during football season is "Purple Friday" for the Ravens, and every Wednesday is Willie Wear day (school logo stuff).

Yesterday Owen was excited to wear his orange, tie-dyed Willie shirt but didn't want to wear the cute tan canvas pants I had picked the night before. I told him he could wear jeans, and after he changed and came downstairs for breakfast he cheerfully said, "Hey mom, it looks like I'm dressed for cutting the lawn!".

Sigh.

But of course, I still think he looked cute.

Just a note to all the parents reading: Please don't think I care or judge you on what your children wear. I learned long ago that sometimes and under some circumstances, my child will be dressed in a odd combo of plaids, stripes and PJ's, and that's OK too. This is just my "thing" and I fully understand some of you might think I'm ridiculous for it! But I'm happy, Owen's happy, and Bob's happy, so all is good in our closets. And yep, I know that at some point Owen is going to start expressing a lot more opinions about what he wants to wear and that's fine - as long as it's clean and presentable I will roll with it. But as his big sister Cearra learned early on, if he wants to wear something Bob and I really don't care for (like say, a purple fake fur coat) he'll have to buy it himself! 

Week in Wisconsin

What a long journey. Through the mountains and tunnels of western Pennsylvania, across the flat fields of Ohio, slowing for the traffic of Chicago. And then finally, Wisconsin. Miles of well, not much, and then ... this. Our home away for a week on Lake Petenwell, near the heart of the state. 

No cell service, spotty Wi-Fi, the nearest grocery store 40 minutes away. But plenty of peace, togetherness, beauty, laughter ...

and fish!

Lots of fish!

Plus a trip to the Cave of the Mounds (underground wonder; above ground plunder); the country's biggest water park, Noah's Ark; mini-golf; s'mores and sparklers; Nana and Pop-pop's scavenger hunt; swimming; create your own pizza night; and of course, giggles and general silliness!

 And at the end of each day, warm showers and hugs, and sweet dreams filled with memories made.