It has been a tradition to go to the pumpkin patch each October. Last year we skipped that outing to save some money, but we've been there several other times over the years. I was planning to try a different pumpkin patch this year, but a homeschooling mom arranged a field trip to Ard's (where we've always gone), and it was MUCH cheaper than what they charge the general public on the weekends. The four of us had a hay ride, the kids played in the maze park for almost 2 hours, and we came home with three pumpkins all for a grand total of only $15. Nadia would have liked it if I had paid more to do the corn maze. We'll have to make that a priority next year. The kids were also in the newspaper today as a photographer on Monday had taken their picture at the breast cancer awareness event in our town. Nadia was on the front page (at right), and all three kids were pictured in the actual article later in the newspaper (see the bottom of this post). Some day my kids aren't going to want to wear pumpkin shirts, but thankfully they still like them. Our three pumpkins are on the front porch, and later this month we'll carve them!
Oliver did break my heart a little bit yesterday morning though. He had a boo boo of some sort, and I offered to kiss it, as I usually do. And he promptly informed me it wouldn't help. I knew the day would come when all three of my kids would outgrow wanting me to kiss their boo boos, but it was hard to hear those words. Thankfully he does love hugs and kisses even though he now realizes they don't heal physical wounds. This caused me to then reflect on how the relationship between a mother and child is constantly changing as they grow more independent. In the very beginning they need you for just about everything, and as time passes they learn how to do more and more things on their own. Then I also started contemplating how my relationship with my mom changed over the years and how even in my 40's I still felt like I *needed* her in my life although in very different ways than when I was four, six, or eight years old. The past 15 years my mom was one of my closest friends, which is not a title I would have used to describe our relationship when I was a child. I hope some day when my children are grown that I will be one of their best friends also.
Some things hadn't ever changed. For all forty-four years she was my biggest cheerleader. Did we see eye to eye on everything all of those years? Of course not. But my mom had the gift of encouragement, and I miss that terribly. I knew there would come a time when my mom would pass away (unless the Lord came first), but I really wasn't expecting it to be this soon. In some ways it feels wrong to use the word "soon" considering she was 71 years old, but still many people do live beyond that age and I had assumed she would live longer than she did. Even though we had six months notice (it wasn't as if she passed away in a car accident out of the blue), it still feels like it happened very suddenly. One part of me accepted the reality very early on. I remember sobbing at a homeschool gym class in the winter and someone asked why I was crying and I said "my mom is dying of cancer." Yet another part of me still almost finds the whole thing surreal. I remember her functioning pretty close to normally at Christmas, and that makes it all hard to process at times.
As I reflect, it would be a very long list if I wrote down all the ways she influenced my life. Physically I resemble my father, but my mother left many deep imprints on my life. I think of that when I am (for example) teaching my kids to play the piano just as she taught her four children to play the piano. Am I trying to do everything exactly the way she did it? Of course not. As one example, when I was a teenager she thought it was very important for me to wear shoes with a heel to church on Sundays. I vastly prefer flats. The last time I wore a true pair of heels (some of my sandals have heels but that's not what she meant) was at my wedding more than 15 years ago. Once I was driving back to college in Ohio on a Sunday and she insisted that I wear heels ("Sunday shoes") while driving that 8 hour drive (which made no sense to me since I wasn't even going to church that Sunday due to being in the car all day). We didn't always see eye to eye, but then again I don't think there are
any two human beings on the planet who always see eye to eye.
Before this walk down memory lane becomes too verbose, I will close with one more illustration. A couple of nights ago I had a very vivid dream regarding my pregnancy with Oliver, and most of the dream was about the blood transfusions. When I woke up I was thinking about the thing that was the most upsetting to me with the first transfusion was that I was going to be alone. The thought of going into an operating room without any relatives being in the hospital was very hard for me to accept. I got myself rather worked up about it. One nurse just stayed with me and held my hand. I was forty years old, and I didn't think I could go through a surgery alone. I think this was because growing up my mom was always there (and sometimes both of my parents). I knew she was out there waiting until she could join me in the recovery room. My husband didn't realize I had this expectation, and it caused an ordeal in January 2010 when I was in the hospital having a D&C to remove Ian's placenta. I had said he could go make a quick trip home (with Ian) so he could grab a bite to eat and also bring me back some pumping
supplies I needed, and we had a miscommunication. I thought he would be back by the time I was in the recovery room, but he wasn't. I went back to my regular room, and he and Ian still weren't back. I was convinced he had to have been in a car accident (couldn't reach him by phone) so I even called down to the ER to see if he had been admitted down there. I later found out that he had no idea I wanted him there with me in the hospital when I had a surgery and had been in no hurry whatsoever to return (which was also physically painful for me because my body badly needed to get rid of some milk!). I will say that I handled the second blood transfusion during Oliver's pregnancy much better than the first. I cried a little over the fact I was alone, but I was much calmer the second time around, and considering they knocked me out only a couple of minutes after telling me they were delivering Oliver, I had no chance to be concerned that I was giving birth without any relatives in the hospital. I think the fact that I remembered my mom being with me as much as possible during my many hospitalizations and surgeries is probably part of the reason I didn't leave the hospital when Ian and Nadia were in the NICU, and why it was so hard for me to leave Oliver for part of his NICU stay. My mom was deeply loved and is deeply missed. I am thankful for the 44 years we had together, and I am going to work hard to preserve my children's memories of their Grandma, who loved them dearly.
Oliver did break my heart a little bit yesterday morning though. He had a boo boo of some sort, and I offered to kiss it, as I usually do. And he promptly informed me it wouldn't help. I knew the day would come when all three of my kids would outgrow wanting me to kiss their boo boos, but it was hard to hear those words. Thankfully he does love hugs and kisses even though he now realizes they don't heal physical wounds. This caused me to then reflect on how the relationship between a mother and child is constantly changing as they grow more independent. In the very beginning they need you for just about everything, and as time passes they learn how to do more and more things on their own. Then I also started contemplating how my relationship with my mom changed over the years and how even in my 40's I still felt like I *needed* her in my life although in very different ways than when I was four, six, or eight years old. The past 15 years my mom was one of my closest friends, which is not a title I would have used to describe our relationship when I was a child. I hope some day when my children are grown that I will be one of their best friends also. 
Some things hadn't ever changed. For all forty-four years she was my biggest cheerleader. Did we see eye to eye on everything all of those years? Of course not. But my mom had the gift of encouragement, and I miss that terribly. I knew there would come a time when my mom would pass away (unless the Lord came first), but I really wasn't expecting it to be this soon. In some ways it feels wrong to use the word "soon" considering she was 71 years old, but still many people do live beyond that age and I had assumed she would live longer than she did. Even though we had six months notice (it wasn't as if she passed away in a car accident out of the blue), it still feels like it happened very suddenly. One part of me accepted the reality very early on. I remember sobbing at a homeschool gym class in the winter and someone asked why I was crying and I said "my mom is dying of cancer." Yet another part of me still almost finds the whole thing surreal. I remember her functioning pretty close to normally at Christmas, and that makes it all hard to process at times. 
As I reflect, it would be a very long list if I wrote down all the ways she influenced my life. Physically I resemble my father, but my mother left many deep imprints on my life. I think of that when I am (for example) teaching my kids to play the piano just as she taught her four children to play the piano. Am I trying to do everything exactly the way she did it? Of course not. As one example, when I was a teenager she thought it was very important for me to wear shoes with a heel to church on Sundays. I vastly prefer flats. The last time I wore a true pair of heels (some of my sandals have heels but that's not what she meant) was at my wedding more than 15 years ago. Once I was driving back to college in Ohio on a Sunday and she insisted that I wear heels ("Sunday shoes") while driving that 8 hour drive (which made no sense to me since I wasn't even going to church that Sunday due to being in the car all day). We didn't always see eye to eye, but then again I don't think there are any two human beings on the planet who always see eye to eye. 
Before this walk down memory lane becomes too verbose, I will close with one more illustration. A couple of nights ago I had a very vivid dream regarding my pregnancy with Oliver, and most of the dream was about the blood transfusions. When I woke up I was thinking about the thing that was the most upsetting to me with the first transfusion was that I was going to be alone. The thought of going into an operating room without any relatives being in the hospital was very hard for me to accept. I got myself rather worked up about it. One nurse just stayed with me and held my hand. I was forty years old, and I didn't think I could go through a surgery alone. I think this was because growing up my mom was always there (and sometimes both of my parents). I knew she was out there waiting until she could join me in the recovery room. My husband didn't realize I had this expectation, and it caused an ordeal in January 2010 when I was in the hospital having a D&C to remove Ian's placenta. I had said he could go make a quick trip home (with Ian) so he could grab a bite to eat and also bring me back some pumping 
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