The last day of my twenties

We ran away to Ohio for the majority of last week. Mostly we did it for me, because I'm turning 30 tomorrow and I couldn't stomach the idea of facing that without seeing some of the most important people in my life, but we also did it for Owen who turned 2 years old on Wednesday. I couldn't stomach the idea of him getting older without those same people surrounding him.

It was really a wonderful time. I got my fill of friends, family, and even a couple co-workers while there. The only other time we'd gone back for any extended period of time was for my father's funeral and time with my family took precidence over meeting my girlfriends or catching up with the in-laws. Not to mention we had just found out I was pregnant then. In fact, I took the deciding pregnancy test in the questionably clean bathroom of a Best Western in Breezewood, Pennsylvania on our way back to Ohio only hours after finding out my dad had passed away. Let's just say my head wasn't truly in our last extended visit.

Last week was a much needed vacation. I adore my husband and son but time with my girlfriends is important as it's one of the few things that reminds of who I am beyond mother and wife. They bring Kate out to play and they're just so damn entertaining. Facebook can only go so far in keeping in touch with loved ones. Sometimes you need the real thing and the real stories and the real laughs to really feel a part of anything.

Owen also seemed to have a great time with his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and his friends. He cried every time we drove away from a grandparent and it broke my heart, making me question whether or not moving away was the right decision. Fortunately, the look on his face when we walked in the door after the 6 hour drive home and the way he ran to his toys, to his bed, to his favorite hiding places, and the smile that crossed his lips helped ease my fears. Owen had a great time in Ohio but he was never as comfortable and at home as he was within a mere 5 minutes of walking into our Baltimore home. He misses everyone like I do, but he also likes his life here as much as I do.

While I'm also pretty sure Jon had a good time, I know he only did it for me. He knew how much I needed to see everyone, and he was in no position to argue as he left for a week long work conference in Dallas this morning. He knew I needed good times and good memories to fill my heart for this coming week since I am literally facing my 30th birthday alone. I'm so thankful he knew.

2011 Self-review

You know what's really awesome about having so many years worth of recorded resolutions and self reviews? Having the opportunity to look back on them once a year and give yourself a pat on the back for a) writing them so well even you enjoy re-reading them, and b) having the guts to be so brutally honest. I always forget this about myself -- that I have no shame when beating myself over the head via blogging -- and damn, I can write like the best of 'em! It's just a matter of, you know, actually doing it.

2011 was one very challenging and exciting year. Jon accepted a promotion that moved our little family to Baltimore, Maryland -- 350 miles away from home -- but not before Owen and I got to endure 3 months of life without him. This year I learned to have the utmost respect for single mothers and I didn't even have to  do it on one income!

We finally met Jon in Baltimore in July and found that life here is somehow more calm and more exciting at the same time. I suppose this is what happens when you reunite with the missing 1/3 of your family and find yourself living in a city with all new places to entertain yourself and with simple day trips to Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, New York City, the east coast. I lived a rather sheltered life as a kid -- I knew our block like the back of my hand but very rarely even ventured to the neighboring city -- and having new adventures and the means to explore them with Owen feels so awesome. We truly are lucky.

Yesterday I admitted to a friend that moving away from so many great friends and all of our family was really hard, and I do get extremely homesick from time to time, but given the choice, I would definitely do it all over again. While we are very much still building our lives here, I do feel very confident when I say we are where we belong. Baltimore is slowly but surely becoming home.

Anyway, in true Deciphering Kate fashion, I am incapable of posting any new resolutions before reviewing how strong the previous year's held up. Let's give it go, shall we?

1. Be more positive. 
How can I even begin to compare my outlook on life last year to now? Someone turned on the lights? Pulled the scarf from my eyes? Cleared the clouds from head? Reached into the six foot grave I had buried myself in, grabbed my hand, and gently pulled me out while screaming "You don't have to live like this!"? I'm not sure any of those descriptions are really strong enough. I'm not sure how it even happened. All I know is that girl was in a very dark place and couldn't find a way out. But something or someone helped her out because she's not there anymore. She's actually quite happy.

2. Make time for myself.  
This one had to come in baby steps: self pedicures while catching up with the DVR, making a break for it on the occasional Thursday evening and exploring the city by myself (sometimes with GPS, sometimes without depending on how adventurous I was feeling), ignoring the stack of junk mail on the dining room table for a week. Then some time in the last few months I caught myself watching entire seasons of One Tree Hill on Netflix on-demand. I watched 6 seasons in just over a months span. Aw crap! Did I just admit that? Well, it shows that I've learned to make time for myself, right? Don't worry, Grey's Anatomy returns tonight so I'll be able to reinstate my taste in evening soap operas momentarily.

3. Continue to play and grow with Owen.
There was a time during that 3 month period of living apart from Jon when I would have scoffed at and thrown out this resolution had I remembered it. Owen and I did not get along. In fact, Owen did not like most anyone. Owen only wanted his daddy and it broke my heart that I didn't have an immediate fix for him. The funny thing is it didn't even fix itself after moving to Baltimore and living with Jon again. Owen was still convinced his daddy was going to leave and he'd be stuck with ME, the horrible, evil Mommy who isn't half as cool as Daddy. It took another 3 months for Owen to realize neither of us were going anywhere and when he finally had that realization, I was rewarded with the most amazing hugs and kisses! He smiles at me, he yells "MAMA!" like a big, Italian man who hasn't seen his mother in years even if it's only been a few hours, he takes my hand, says "Up!" and leads me to whatever he wants to show me, and he realized that it broke my heart a little when he stopped letting me rock him to sleep and he let me rock him again. Owen is the most absolutely amazing and curious creature I have ever laid eyes on. Every day I'm dazzled by the way his mind works and the joy he finds in such little things. Every night I fight the urge to wake him up so we can play and explore more. We may have had a rocky start, and I may have had my doubts along the way, but right now, at this moment, I can tell you without doubt that I have never known love like what I have for Owen and to have that love reciprocated is the best gift any woman can ever ask for.

4. Find a confidant.
Shortly after making this resolution I realized I have many confidants. For such a quiet and reserved person I seem to put a lot of my business out there, on this blog, on Facebook, in a text message, in person or over the phone. I actually have a very hard time keeping things in and often find myself sharing it with EVERYONE. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm not entirely sure what I was looking for from this resolution and I am actually quite happy with my current means of confiding.

5. Cover my family in bubble wrap and place them in a padded room.   
Seeing as my father died back in October this goes down as an EPIC FAIL but at the time of writing I could not have known I would be moving to another state therefore making it much harder to keep everyone safe. Bubble wrap and a padded room would not have helped my father anyway. For what it's worth, I always felt the new distance made my father and I closer somehow. We actually had to put serious effort into keeping in touch and he was so willing to put in the effort that it warmed my heart. I love you, Dad.

As always, this year's resolutions coming soon...hopefully before I break them all!

I'll remember you fondly

With the new year comes the overwhelming urge to end over two months of silence but the only way to do that is to write the words I've been trying to avoid for 2 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day:

My father passed away on October 17, 2011.

I still don't have the words to describe how I feel about the loss only that I miss him very much. One thing I do have to say is that somehow, even though the importance of a father cannot be measured, the loss of mine carries a much different feeling than any of the other losses I've experienced in recent years. The love and admiration I'd come to find in and have for my dad was astonishing, yet his death has not left me with a painful void in my chest every time I think of him. Instead, I have a soft place in my heart filled with fond memories and the feeling of being so blessed to have had as much time with him as I did.

My father's death could not have come as a surprise to any of us. He'd already survived three heart attacks, the first one being nearly 20 years ago, and even though he'd made great strides in improving his health in recent years, test results showed that much of the damage was already done and there was no turning around his own case of type 2 diabetes and congestive heart failure. He did what he could to make the best of it, finally started to treasure the time he had with us, and he didn't let anyone but my mom know just how much pain he was actually in.

What I do know is this: My dad lived a full life. He was married to the love of his life for 44 years with children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren. No hobby of his went unstudied. He had no shortage of friends who would do anything for him. There was nothing he could look back on in regret. That, to me, is a very full life.

So like I said, I miss my father. I miss our Wednesday Skype nights, the way he played the maracas with Owen, being able to call him for moral support every time I encounter (and have to kill) an ugly, scary bug, and his comforting presence in general, but I can't say that I am overwhelmed with grief by this loss.

I loved my father and he knew it. I can't say that I have any regrets there either.

I wrote a little something to read at his funeral, and surprisingly, I managed to do so without tearing up. In fact, I may have even laughed a little. I know he appreciated that. I thought I'd copy it here for safe keeping:

My dad liked to jokingly refer to his status in the family as 'the bottom of the barrel' or sometimes, if he was feeling particularly dramatic, he'd say he was 'the scum seeping out of a crack at the bottom of the barrel'. He said all of this with a big grin hiding behind his beard. He liked to pretend he was forgotten often but we all knew he was well aware of his importance in our family -- that we all revolved around him just as much as we do our mother -- all 6 children, 17 grand children, and 3 great grand children with another on the way. There is no denying your importance when you are the co-creator of a family this large and full of genuinely good people.


When it came to raising us my parents roles were easily defined: mom was always good cop and dad was always bad cop (unless you asked for something when dad was asleep, then he simply said 'go ask your mother' which was always a given yes!) Dad was typically the enforcer and he actually managed to do it quietly, at least until you either a) talked back to him, or b) disrespected our mother in anyway. I used to think it was our mother who was there to raise us and he was there simply to protect her from us. Now that I am older with a child of my own, I know better. My father, in his own way, was raising us to become kind and respectful adults.


Despite several heart attacks -- each one leaving him a little more bony and pale than the last -- my father grew much softer with age. He left behind his enforcer uniform to reveal a man you couldn't help but adore. He was passionate about his hobbies and eager to share them. His heart, though physically weaker, kept growing bigger with interest and love for his family. He was genuinely excited to see us and he was so openly proud of us all.


One of my strongest memories of my father is on the day of my wedding. I was so excited and nervous that I was nearly running down the aisle, dragging him behind me, when he suddenly chuckled, tightened his grip on my arm and said, "Slow down, Kate, enjoy this moment while it lasts."


I took his advice that day and continued to do so for years to come. I enjoyed every last moment I had with him.

Owen and Grandpa, June 2010