Monday, December 22, 2008

Dear Santa . . .

My little hometown newspaper, the Keith County News, has an annual tradition of printing unedited letters to Santa from the town's elementary school children. My brother, John, wrote one of the most original, hilarious, and self-aware letters ever printed. It even ran with its own special headline--if my Mom still has the text (I know she cut it out of the paper and saved it for years), she should post it in a "Comment" to this blog for all to see. If nothing else, at least I will be entertained by sugar-plum memories of Chewbacca dolls and how my brothers converted my very stylish wooden-heeled clogs (hey, it was 1980) into weapons.

So, in honor of my hometown tradition, and in lieu of a mass-mailed Christmas card, I will print here for your reading enjoyment, my children's own unedited Letters to Santa (*all spelling, capitalization, and punctuation is preserved exactly as written in the original) :

From Jack:

"Jack's Christmas"

NiNteNDo D.S.
sKate BoaRD.
Bike.
GuitaR.
I poD.
a LeGo Set.

(The list is illustrated with a big star).

From Regan:

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year I want a wii, xbox 36, N-tendo DS, cellphone, I-pod, puppy (docsin), money, and last but not least Honey-crisp appels. and I have been a very nice girl this year.

Love, Regan <3 =)

From Aubrey:

Dear Santa,
Please define "nice." Personally, I think I've been plenty nice, but people say you're very opinionated.
Anyway, if you do think I've made the "nice-list" here are the things I'd like:
1) a new cell phone plan that includes unlimited texting
2) more of my favorite DKNY perfume, Red Delicious
3) lots of pairs of new colored skinny jeans (i can never get enough)
4) gift cards (iTunes, target, Delia's, Barnes & Noble, where-ever!)
5) figure skates
I would also really appreciate it if you could send me a couple of your elves to be my personal servants.
Thanks!
-Aubrey Kate

P.S. I know your secret!! I think we both know that if I don't make the "nice list", I won't be the only one who knows it any more

(Editor's Note: Ahhh. She's learning her mother's flair for bitter humor. It's the gift that keeps on giving . . .)

Of course, poor Finn is too little to write his own list, but he was trying to earn some extra Brownie Points today by wearing a red sequin Santa hat around the house. He has also assigned himself the job of making sure the Christmas lights are always on--he becomes quite annoyed if they are not. And, he keeps trying to clean-up the fake "hay" in our Nativity Scene. (This kid is afflicted, I tell you . . .).

So, Merry Christmas to all. I'll post again after Santa comes. Until then take care (and Happy Birthday, Tony!).

Love,
Kelly and Kids

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Not-so-deep philosophizing

Many of you may not know that I taught high-school Spanish for two years before ultimately going to law school. I speak Spanish fairly well and have visited Spain, Mexico, Costa Rica, and various other Spanish-speaking countries. Nonetheless, I don't feel like my vocabulary has ever really progressed beyond what I taught my students. Despite what I learned in college and abroad, I have the same proficiency in Spanish as a high school senior.

I realized this weekend that my general intellect may follow the same trajectory, and, without Jeff's positive influence, may have reached the outer limits of its capacity. In other words, I think I'm as smart as I'm going to get and, without Jeff, I'm probably going to only get stupider. I realized this when I started reading "The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis for the third time and thought: What's the point? Who is going to discuss it with me? The Screwtape Letters is one of my all-time favorite books and a very easy read. Every time I read it I discover new perspectives and feel like I learn something about myself and others. Therefore, I can only assume that others would find it similarly rich and meaningful. I have attempted, without success, to persuade various friends to read "The Screwtape Letters." As a result, I have not been able to simulate the animated and thought-provoking discussions Jeff and I used to have about literature and philosophy and any number of peripheral issues. And, so I have resigned myself to the singular and lonely enjoyment of this book.

It's a little bit ironic: several years ago for Christmas, I got Jeff what I thought was a very clever gift. I bought several well-known and widely read "masterpieces" and a gift certificate to a "matching" restaurant to each. For example, I got him "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu and a gift certificate to Cheng Hwa (a Chinese restaurant); "The Communist Manifesto" by Karl Marx and a gift certificate to Cubanitas (a Cuban restaurant); "Introduction to Christianity" by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (now known as Pope Benedict XVI) and a gift certificate to The Gasthaus (a German Restaurant); and "Utopia" by Sir Thomas More and a gift certificate to the George Watts Tea Room (because More was English and the English like tea. OK, I know that one was kind of a stretch, but I couldn't find an "English" restaurant in Milwaukee). So, anyway, I got Jeff all these books with the idea that we would read them together and once we had both finished a book, we would go to the restaurant and have dinner while we discussed it. Great idea, huh? Except that he dutifully read every book and I only read "The Art of War." That's right--we only made it as far as the Chinese restaurant.

So, while I am sitting here lamenting my lack of a conversation partner, I trust I am only experiencing balance in the universe--what some people call "karma." Just as Jeff had no one to talk to about the books he read, and no one to discuss his insights or to challenge his thoughts and perceptions--now, neither do I. And maybe I'm too hopeful (or maybe to stubborn), but I don't sense my loneliness in this regard as punishment or retribution. This sense of abandonment (which may be too strong a word, but my vocabulary is already starting to suffer . . .) may be, in fact, the "sign" I've been waiting for all along.

You may recall that shortly after Jeff's death, I wished for a "sign"or the smallest intimation that we would be OK without him. Since then, there has been only nothingness. But, I've come to believe that these moments of "nothingness" provide the best opportunity for Jeff to be present. It is difficult and discouraging to believe in the eternity of a soul when every trace of that soul has vanished. But wouldn't his lingering "presence" or the constant sense of him be a much more painful reminder of the time and distance between us and would it not pose an even greater impediment to the "moving on" that inevitably must occur? When a mother wants her child to walk, she must take away her hand. If Jeff wants me to know that I will be OK without him, he must withdraw so that I can attribute nothing to his intercessions or support and will be left to truly walk alone. In other words, the best way for him to let me know that I'll be OK without him-- is to allow me to be OK without him.

And so it is. I am grateful for the lesson and only hope that my life's education is not stalled. For over 14 years, my nightly banter with Jeff contributed so much to the formation of my conscience and values and priorities, that only time will tell if they will grow in their depth and breadth without his influence. In the meantime, I still have all of you to talk to :-)

Sweet Dreams!
Kelly

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Whirlwind!

Sheesh! Has it already been a week since my last post? I think this is the longest I've ever gone between posts-so I apologize (although, on second thought, I haven't exactly heard anyone complaining . . .).

We've all been extremely busy this week with work and school and life in general. I helped one of my partners with a trial that spanned three days this week. We got an excellent result (that is, we "won" if there is such a thing as "winning" in divorce court), but it was very labor intensive and usurped most of my evenings and all of my work week. Other highlights of the week included Christmas Concerts at both the middle school and elementary school; my first office Christmas Party at my new firm; a birthday party for Aubrey; a sleep over for Regan; Regan's first big win of the basketball season (she even made two baskets and one free-throw--Way to go, Regan!). It's been as busy as can be and the weekend is only half-over . . .

In other news, Finn is really getting into Christmas. His first order of business when he wakes up--after eating--is turning on the lights on the Christmas tree. He has also discovered snowmen and points them out whenever he sees one. He can almost say "snowman"--his attempts are very cute and quite intelligible. Finn's other big news this week is that he now brushes his own teeth and likes "practicing" on the Big Boy Potty. He mostly just sits on it with his clothes on, but he sits on it naked before his bath and makes sound effects even though nothing's happening yet. He's very proud of himself.

As for Regan, her big news is not just limited to her success on the basketball court. She was specially invited by our neighbors to help them pick-up their new PUPPY. The neighbors' children are grown, so they have said that they would like our kids to help acclimate the puppy to children. My kids are absolutely beside themselves with excitement. They have been begging for a dog incessantly ever since Jeff died. They have even gone over my head to the Big Man, himself--no, not God, and, no--not Jeff: They have taken their case to Santa. But, now that the neighbors have a new puppy, "Santa" can wait at least one more year . . . (whew!).

In the meantime, I want to thank you for reaching out to us with all the Christmas cards you are sending and the deliveries of treats, etc. I wish I had the time and energy to reciprocate, but I think I'll take a raincheck on sending Christmas cards this year and post something to the blog, instead. I know--it is lazy and impersonal and a wholly inadequate response to the outpouring of love and good tidings you send to all of us, so I hope you will be forgiving and keep us on your mailing lists.

Well, given that this week was a blur, I don't know what else to write about so I won't ramble on. I can't promise you'll be so lucky next time. Until then . . .

Kelly

Sunday, December 7, 2008

It Takes A Village

As much as it pains me to quote Hilary Clinton, I think she may have been onto something when she said, “it takes a village to raise a child.” I’m learning that it takes a village to do a couple of other things too; namely, set up a Christmas tree. Now, I’ve always considered myself very capable and resourceful and I like to believe that a woman can do anything a man can do. Let’s just say after this weekend-- I’m kind of over all that.

Once in a while I dream up an innocuous-sounding little scheme (see, for example, the October blog about my Sunday morning ritual . . .). It seems easy enough. No big deal. I thought getting a Christmas tree would be such an event. I thought wrong.

The good news is that I didn’t suffer alone—I had coerced other unsuspecting do-gooders into my web of disaster, and they endured their own not-so-vicarious humiliation and defeat. So, I will dedicate this blog to my weekend folly: getting a Christmas tree.

I suspected I had some limitations in carrying out my plan: limited experience, limited interest, and severely limited physical strength (you will recall that my physique has been favorably compared to that of Olive Oil or an orphan from Mogadishu). Knowing that I would need reinforcements for the job, I called in my most trusted tree-getter, Tony. Tony can do anything. Really. He once traveled all the way from one shore of Ireland to the other to visit a friend without knowing so much as the friend’s last name or address—and was able to find him. This is just one example of Tony’s mojo. Getting a tree should be like taking candy from a baby. (Editor’s note: Taking candy from a baby is a lot harder than it looks. Finn and his Kit Kat do not part easily . . .).

Tony very generously agreed to help me even though he had a very small window of opportunity between major trips. (He had arrived from New York only moments before helping me and would be leaving for Madison only moments after). So, bear in mind this was no small inconvenience on his part. We went to Home Depot to collect the tree and after making him model ten or twelve of them for my discriminating eye—“Tony, turn the flat side out,” “shake the snow off of this one,” etc.—I finally selected a Scotch Pine. In the check-out line, the Home Depot staff offered to saw off part of the stump and place the tree in some netting. I accepted their offer. This was my first mis-step. Tony wisely asked me “how big is your tree stand” and, pointing to the tree trunk said “will it fit that trunk.” I eyeballed it and confidently said, “Oh yeahhh. Our stand is big. It will totally fit.” It was upon this confident declaration that we did not have the Home Depot lady saw off an ominous knot on the side of the trunk.

We wrestled the tree on to the top of my minivan and headed home. Once there, it occurred to me that I should actually find the tree stand. So, again, citing my inexperience, disinterest, and any other excuse I could think of – I sent Aubrey into the attic (hey, she’s smaller and shorter than me and can fit up there better than I can). She dutifully retrieved not only the tree stand, but also a half-dozen boxes and Rubbermaid tubs full of Christmas decorations. This was shaping up to be good. So, I set up the tree stand, Tony popped in the tree and the trunk was just a sliver too big to fit into it. Ugh! Tony started trying to twist the tree into it like a pencil sharpener, but that stupid big ugly knot was not having any of it.

Tony suggested I get a saw. I went to the basement and inspected every one of a dozen drawers full of electrical tape, sand paper, and nails before finally finding a dainty little princess saw that would probably only cut through marshmallows and rainbows. I brought it to Tony anyway. We both tried to use the saw until I remembered that we had some plastic knives from Noodles and Company that were a lot more menacing. I also then remembered that we had a “real” saw in the shed. So, I bravely went out into the ankle deep snow and 20-degree chill (anyone who knows me, knows that is VERY brave of me) and unsuccessfully tried to jab every key on three different key rings into the Masterlock on the flimsy metal doors. Frustrated, I retreated to the house and did what I usually do when I can’t figure something out—ask Aubrey. “Aubrey, where is the key to the shed.” She, of course, knew exactly which key it was even though I outwardly doubted her (“I’ve already tried that one”) and, of course she was right. But, the lock was frozen, so I again came into the house and had to report to Tony (who had been holding the tree up the entire time) that I couldn’t access the lifesaving “good saw” because of my character flaws and tender little digits (my fingers were freezing!). He valiantly recommended that he would give it a try.

A few minutes later he emerged with the saw and struggled with the safety cover on the blade only long enough to ponder whether he might not saw a finger off trying to pry off the safety cover. (Oh, the irony!) He then sawed and sawed and sawed (this part goes on for quite a while because the “good saw” was only a marginal upgrade over the flimsy girly saw we used earlier). I “helped” by holding the tree down with my foot and complaining incessantly about (a) the cold, (b) the low-performance saw, and (c) the stupid tree (which was clearly to blame for all of my problems). Tony, as patient and good-natured as ever, finally relieved the tree of the offending knot and we triumphantly headed into the house to show that tree who was boss. As Tony tried to fit it into the tree stand, I was maneuvering around the tree to access a better vantage point by which I could guide him, because he was blinded by the girth of the tree and by the swell of happiness he was feeling at being able to help me. As I was coming around the side of the tree I ran HARD into the corner of our window sill (which protrudes about six inches from the wall) and fell to my knees in pain all while prognosticating the horrible bruise I would have later in very unladylike vocabulary. (Editor’s note: it was worse than a bruise. The window sill took a chunk of skin out of my hip that was a red, bloody mess when I finally looked at it. The lump in its wake is now turning all purply and green. Sexy!).

To add insult to injury—the tree still refused to sit in the stand. The tree was, even yet, too wide and knotted (though ever so slightly) that it would not go into the stand despite Tony’s twisting and sawing. At this point, I conceded defeat and released Tony from his sentence. He headed off to Madison and we parked the tree in the front yard until I could find another unsuspecting victim to help me. I didn’t have to wait long. Another friend, Dale, always chivalrous and kind, stumbled upon my dilemma when he was picking up Regan for a basketball game. He offered to come back and “zip that knot right off of there—no problem.” And so he did. He sawed the bottom off, hauled it in the house, set it up in the tree stand, and even spun it around to reveal its “good” side.

At the end of the day, I reflected on all the times throughout the process that I would have given up. I wondered how women who don’t have help ever do something like that themselves. And although it is an unromantic sentiment, I missed having Jeff here to do it as he always did and so I wouldn’t have to. There are so many things now that I have to do myself and, worse yet, that I can’t do myself. It can be a sad and defeating realization. Yes, cancer took my husband. It took my tree-getter, my tree-sawer, my lock-picker, and my attic-crawler. It, of course, took much much more than that. But, it gave me a lot too. It has given me friends who will do what I cannot and if that’s all I get for Christmas, it’s enough.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Generic Update

As usual, I have no update worth reporting, so I'll merely fill space with some holiday notes: The kids and I officially begin our holiday season this coming weekend, marked by the annual Kinderconzert at Tosa West high school. The Kinderconzert is a fundraising event for the Tosa West orchestra. The kids get to visit Santa, experiment with real violins and other instruments, make crafts, eat snacks, and watch the orchestra perform a short concert featuring all the fun, traditional Christmas songs. We've gone every year since moving to Wauwatosa over eleven years ago. After the Kinderconzert, we buy, set up, and decorate our Christmas tree. It will be a lot of fun and the kids are looking forward to it.

This is also the time of year I begin watching the library of Christmas movies we've acquired over the past 15 years. I jumped in with both feet this past weekend and tortured myself by watching "Love, Actually" while I wrapped some of the kids' Christmas presents. "Love, Actually" is an intelligent and charming (but R-rated) movie that weaves together various interrelated story lines--each illustrating a different kind of love: the love between spouses, the love between friends, the love between a parent and child, etc. If you give any credibility to my endorsement, then I recommend you only watch it with someone you love--or with someone you want to make fall in love with you by the end of the movie. It has that effect . . .

Jeff's favorite Christmas movie (and perhaps also his favorite movie of all-time) was It's a Wonderful Life. I look forward to watching it for its obvious analogies . . .

Well, it's very late and I'm tired, but I wanted to post something--anything. So, I'm sorry this is short and indiscriminate. I'll try to come up with something really noteworthy for next time! Until then . . .

Goodnight,
Kelly

Friday, November 28, 2008

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving! It's been two months since Jeff died. Sometimes it feels like forever ago and almost like he was never here to begin with. Other times, it seems like he never left. Jeff missed Thanksgiving last year, too. He was too sick to participate. He was so nauseated and fatigued that he was sleeping approximately 20 hours per day--knocked down by proliferating tumors and the after-effects of whole brain radiation. His neuro-oncologist prescribed a drug for him called Provigil--normally used to help narcoleptics stay alert--and it perked him up almost instantly, or enough so that he was able to enjoy Christmas and, shortly thereafter, start the anti-CTLA clinical trial.

And as each momentous occasion passed--Thanksgiving, Christmas, Birthdays, etc.--we tacitly understood it would be the last. Even so, we did nothing out of the ordinary to commemorate the occasions. There were no grandiose gestures or over-the-top celebrations. Likewise, there were no tears. Surprisingly--no videos. Few pictures. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't remember how we celebrated our last anniversary (or if we celebrated at all). I can only recall one of the gifts Jeff gave me for our last Christmas--a $10 bottle of perfume that he got for free with a $10 off coupon (he was very pleased with his thriftiness). I'm sure he gave me more than that, but that's all I can remember. My last Valentine's Day and Mother's Day are completely forgotten.

I tell you this, though, not because it makes me sad or because I regret that we didn't preserve these historical occasions, but for precisely the opposite reason: Jeff lived everyday like it was a holiday. He was no different any other day of the year than he was on Christmas or his birthday or on Father's Day. Despite his illness and despite knowing, almost for certain, that he would soon die, he treated his last holidays as he did all the others. Jeff had absolutely no regrets and was, I believe, so comfortable in his knowledge that the kids and I would always love him and remember him that he didn't feel he needed to make desperate attempts to memorialize the "last" everything. I can only assume that most of us, given the same death sentence as Jeff, would panic and try desperately to immortalize ourselves or would, at the very least, find something worth changing about our daily routines: we would stop going to work; stop worrying about how much we spend at restaurants; we would fulfill all of our ambitious pledges to jump out of airplanes, visit France, or swim with Dolphins. I know it was a great comfort to Jeff that he found nothing so compelling as waking up to the same exact life he had created for himself before cancer as existed after his diagnosis. He changed nothing. Regretted nothing. That's the way I want to go.

That's not to say it was easy for him. In Hospice, Jeff said again how grateful he was that we took a family vacation to Atlanta and the Great Smoky Mountains the summer before he was diagnosed. He said he wished we had spent more time taking trips like that as a family--just him and I and the kids. He had planned Mount Rushmore as our next great destination and said, "I hate knowing I'll never see things like Mount Rushmore again." But that was the extent of his wistfulness. He was otherwise very resigned to his fate and did not attempt to deny or resist it.

And so, this Thanksgiving, though it may seem a strange thing to be thankful for, I am thankful for Jeff's death. I don't mean that I am glad that he died--I could never feel that way. But I am glad for how he died. I am happy that he died secure in his relationships with me and the kids; I am thankful that his illness allowed him to confirm, both to himself and to our family, what a happy life he had. I am thankful for all the time that he had to prepare himself and us for his death; I'm thankful for the guidance he has given me and for sharing the last wishes I am to carry out on his behalf; and I'm especially thankful for all the friends Jeff has given me--in life and in death, some of whom I would have never met and others who might have never had an opportunity to show us the extent of their love for and commitment to our family if he hadn't died.

So, although I hear a lot about how the holidays are hard after a death and can be particularly depressing, I have to disagree. The holidays certainly condense opportunities to illustrate how often I'm alone: I will shop for the kids' presents alone; I will not be bringing a guest to the Christmas Party at work; etc. But, I am certainly not lonely. So far, my Thanksgiving weekend has included a movie night and drinks with some of my favorite friends; Thanksgiving dinner among other favorite friends; a call from the Archbishop; wreath-hanging with another friend; bowling with the kids (don't even get me started on all the fun they've had in the past two days: a bonfire party; games with friends; bowling; ice skating; and a slumber party--and it's only Friday night . . .). We have more fun coming up--a get together for dinner tomorrow night; lunch with neighbors on Sunday. It's hard to feel bad when we're having so much fun.

And I know Jeff would not want us to feel bad. I received a lovely gift today--Jeff's uncle sent me all the cards and letters that people sent to him in sympathy of Jeff's death. It was quite an impressive stack of papers--from priests and nuns and parishioners and deacons and friends and strangers. But, what stood out to me was the common theme that emerged in their expressions of sympathy and personal remarks: Death is to be celebrated. I'm sure that wherever Jeff is now, he would find it amusing (if not irritating) that we should be so morose about his death. I'm sure that now, more than ever, Jeff would be pleased if we could celebrate--not only the holidays, but everyday, just as he did.

With Thanks!
Kelly

Sunday, November 23, 2008

on a happier note....

hey everybody it's aubrey :) i thought i'd save my mom some time and energy by putting up a blog for her, so here it is. first of all, we'd like to say thanks to Brendan and Meaghen Gardiner (and of course Grace and Clare) for coming up and visiting with us for the weekend. we all had a great time! other than that, nothing very eventful has happened lately. school is going good for regan, jack, and i (we all had excellent report cards!) and i'm assuming work is okay for my mom...

anyway, if anyone cares to know what's going on with me, it's nothing very exciting. i went to the play "Little Shop of Horrors" with some of my good friends on Saturday night. it was done by the players at East Highschool here in Wauwatosa, and their shows are always AMAZING because they really put a lot of work into them, but i think they really outdid themselves this time. all my friends and i were very impressed, so i just thought i'd share that with all of you. otherwise i've just been hanging out with my friends and family.

by the way, i have some really hot gossip for all of you.... finn sadly dumped the swiffer and found a new love-the dust pan and broom! see, we have this tiny little hand broom and dust pan and when he saw it, it was like love at first sight. now he sweeps everything he sees even if it's not dirty!! he also made it his own little personal chore to help with the laundry. when we switch the laundry to the dryer, we have to hand the wet clothes to him first so that he can shove them into the dryer. it's pretty cute the way he just has to clean everything!! also, my mom got out the vacuum the other day (i know, it's crazy, i never thought i'd type that) and finn insisted on vacuuming for her and wouldn't let her do any of it. he's a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to cleaning, but that's okay.

one last thing before i go: i would just like to give a shoutout to regan because tonight she single-handedly took all the pictures that were on the bulletin boards at the visitation and put them into a leather photo album given to us by her school. so yeah, props to regan :D
i gotta go now (i have a big, long 2 day week ahead of me because of Thanksgiving week-lol!)

Bye!
love,
aubrey

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Tragedy Times Two

I'm so sorry to report that tragedy has struck again: Jeff's first cousin, Travis Olmsted, died of sarcoma (a soft tissue cancer) at approximately 4 a.m. on Tuesday, November 18th. He was 27 years old. Travis's dad and Jeff's mom are brother and sister. So, that means that Jeff's grandparents have lost two grandsons in two months; his aunts and uncles have lost two nephews in two months; his cousins have lost another cousin, etc. So, once again, Bishop Tom will eulogize a nephew and the family will gather as they did for Jeff less than two months ago. It's all so unspeakably sad.

Travis's mom, Rosalie, gave me her permission to mention Travis on the blog and I thank her very much for that. Travis was diagnosed with cancer 5 1/2 years ago and Aubrey still remembers going to visit him in the hospital with her grandma. Travis was the youngest of four kids and, happily, lived long enough to see his big brother, Rob, get married at the end of October. Ironically, he died on Rob's birthday--Rob was one of Jeff's favorite cousins. They were close in age and both liked sports. Rob was a groomsman at our wedding and had come to visit us a couple of times in Wisconsin.

I found a local flower shop on the internet in Travis's hometown of Beattie, Kansas (which has a population of approximately 275 people). Of course, the flower shop owner knew everything about Travis and even knew who I was. She is apparently very fond of Travis's parents and grandparents and talked to me like we were old friends--telling me about Rob's recent wedding and all the details of the upcoming visitation and funeral. She even trusted me to send her a check for the flowers I ordered because she doesn't take credit cards. It was a real testament to her admiration for Travis's family and a sweet reminder of my own small hometown where I'm sure the local florist would do the same.

And, speaking of my small hometown, I just received a blast from the past when my old friend Chandra left me a blog comment. Chandra, when you mentioned Chi and Jodi and Lyndell, it made me think of all our band trips and high school plays and speech meets . . . those were the days!

Well, that's all for now. I hope to have better news next time. Until then . . .

Love, Kelly

Monday, November 17, 2008

Key Lime Birthday

So, I've decided to extend my birthday into a birthmonth. I celebrated on November 11th and have continued the celebration. I had my lovely party; friends have taken me to lunch or dinner or have stopped by to visit nearly every day since then and the invitations (not to mention the cards and well-wishes) continue . . .

However, this past weekend was the culmination of our Second Annual Birthday Getaway in my honor. Jeff started the tradition last year when he took me and the kids to Illinois Beach Resort for a couple of days. The highlight of that weekend was when he and the kids sang a very sweet rendition of a love song that they wrote themselves especially for me--all accompanied by Aubrey on guitar. It was AWESOME!

This year, we continued the tradition by going to Key Lime Cove Resort in Gurnee, Illinois. It bills itself as a cruise ship on land and it nearly lives up to the claim! The only things missing were the sunshine and 80 degree weather. The kids had a blast swimming at the expansive waterpark. Even Finn took a few turns on the baby waterslide. We ate room service (another big treat) and watched non-stop Spongebob Squarepants on Nickolodean (a considerably smaller treat, in my estimation) for two days straight.

It was hard to come back to reality and Wisconsin's winter weather--we had our first winter storm today. It wasn't much of a storm, but left enough ice on the roads to cause my 20 minute commute home from work to stretch into an hour and forty minutes. Ugh!

Otherwise, I have no new news so I'll keep this short. It's late and I'm tired and I want to go to bed. Thanks as always for checking in. Until next time . . .

Sweet Dreams!
Kelly

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Mr. Good Housekeeping

Well, this 29th birthday was one of my best yet! The kids and nannies pulled-off a surprise birthday party for me--complete with a homemade birthday cake! There were approximately 20 guests, food, drinks, and even a miniature Dance Party! It was truly a fun evening and I can't thank them enough for all the thought and hard work they put into it!

In other news, I was cleaning up some old computer files and came across the drafts of two entries I had written for a World's Greatest Husband contest in Good Housekeeping magazine. I had written them a year apart for the same contest. Both times, I failed to finish them or mail them off. Maybe the publishers of Good Housekeeping will read them and give Jeff the award posthumously! Jeff never read the entries or even knew that I had conspired to enter him in the contest, but they do a nice job of illustrating a mere fraction of the contributions he made to our household:

Draft Entry--2005 (this was originally in a two-column format, but the blog will not accept the formatting, so I have put what originally appeared in the second column in red font).

Two hundred and fifty words is wholly inadequate to express why my husband was born to be “Mr. Good Housekeeping.” I hope the statistics will speak for themselves:

His Typical Day /My Typical Day
7:00 a.m. Wake up 3 kids for school
Sleep
7:15 a.m. Make kids’ lunches for school
7:25 a.m. Give our middle daughter one last
Chance to wake up and get dressed
OR ELSE!
7:30 a.m. Make kids’ breakfast
7:45 a.m. Pack and check backpacks
7:55 a.m. Clean up breakfast while reminding
Middle daughter she is going to be
Late if she doesn’t hurry up. Load
And start the dishwasher.
8:00 a.m. Car pool our kids and three of the
Neighbor kids to school
8:15 a.m. Go to the grocery store with our
4 year-old son. Drive the “race car”
Shopping cart.
Wake up. Get ready for work.
9:00 a.m. Unpack groceries. Plan dinner.
Play games or puzzles with our son.
Go to work.
10:00 a.m. Write magazine articles. Earn a living.
Interrupt writing to explain to our son
That he can’t give himself a tatoo with
A ball point pen. Write articles. Tell our
Son to not stand on the back of the couch.
Stare at computer. Write more articles.
Scrub ball point tatoo off of son.
Noon: Make lunch for son. Eat together. With
Chop sticks (because per our son “that’s
how ninjas do it.”). Clean up. Read son
a book. Unload the dishwasher. Immed-
iately begin reloading it with lunch dishes.
Eat lunch with law partner.
1:00 p.m. Write magazine articles. Hope our son
Takes a nap.
2:50 p.m. Get son ready. Pick up our daughters
And neighbor kids from school.
3:15 p.m. Fix kids a snack. Make oldest daughter
Do homework and practice her guitar.
3:30 p.m. Write articles. Suggest oldest daughter
Practice guitar for more than five minutes,
Send her to practice some more. Try to
Write and simultaneously negotiate a
Fight between middle daughter and son.
Write. Write.Write.
Eat a muffin.
5:30 p.m. Check homework. Start making dinner.
(Often consisting of homemade bread and
Spaghetti sauce made from scratch!).
6:30 p.m. Eat Dinner (prepare kids’ plates)
Listen to me whine about my job. Agree
That I should have been a rock star.
Come home; eat dinner; complain about work.
7:00 p.m. Clean up dinner. Vacuum. Load dish
Washer. Wipe down kitchen surfaces.
Throw in a load of laundry.
7:30 p.m. Attend meeting as board member
Of school PTA.
Play with kids; give kids baths.
9:00 p.m. Return home. Fold Laundry. Throw In another load.
Kiss sleeping kids.
Put kids to bed.
9:30 p.m. Give me a back rub while I read Read magazine.
10:00 p.m. Go to Bed

Draft Entry--2006

I am a divorce lawyer. My husband is a successful freelance writer, treasurer of the PTA, President of his college alumni association, a high school religious education teacher, and work-at-home father to 3 elementary school children. Even though he juggles play dates with publication deadlines, he understands that my job is wrought with high demands and few rewards. To allow me the flexibility to serve my clients and, more importantly, to ensure that when I am home I am available to enjoy him and our children, he has undertaken virtually all of our household management. What’s more, he has taken on this disproportionate burden without complaint, without resentment, and with only fleeting moments of regret that are instantly resolved as soon as I try to do something “helpful” like sort the laundry, which (if I’m interpreting his gasps and facial contortions correctly) causes an irreversible imbalance in the universe—or irritable bowel syndrome (I’m not quite sure which). Of course, I always counsel my clients to avoid vesting one spouse with responsibility for all of the household chores because it fosters feelings of guilt and resentment. But now I am convinced that if something feels this right it just can’t be wrong! So in celebration of my emancipation from the unholy bonds of housework, I nominate my husband as Mr. Good Housekeeping 2006 and offer the following comparative list of our respective chores to illustrate his worthiness:

HIM: Wakes kids; gets them ready for school; makes their lunches; feeds them breakfast; picks the kids up from school; cooks dinner 7 nights a week (he bakes his own bread AND makes homemade pizza!); cleans up after dinner; does dishes; loads and unloads dishwasher; sorts the laundry; washes the laundry (“make sure you shake out the clothes before you put them in the dryer!”); folds the laundry; recycles; vacuums the floors, floorboards, carpets, blinds and walls (yes, I have it from a reliable source—our 10 year old daughter—that he actually vacuums the walls); he takes out the trash; cleans the windows (inside and out); and does every other conceivable household chore not listed here (not to mention he also does ALL of the home maintenance and yardwork . . .)

ME: Dust and polish wood. (He hates to dust). Watch the Style Network.

________________________

Geez! No wonder I'm so exhausted all the time:. It's hard work delegating everything Jeff did to the nannies, the cleaning lady, and the lawn service. And just think, after all that delegating I still have to eat a muffin and watch the Style Network! Will my toils never end? :-)

Come back soon!
Kelly

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, it's that time of year again when I turn 29 (thankfully, I don't look a day over 45). Ha! Actually, I am turning 36 today and Princess Kelly will be taking the day off from blogging to be fawned over and doted upon.

However, I am pleased to have a guest blogger filling in for me today. Allow me to introduce Colin Hutt, one of our dearest friends who wrote the following about Jeff:

Jeff's List of 11 Favorite Books

My last conversation with Jeff was at the hospice. In a blog post a few weeks before, Jeff mentioned that Les Miserables was one of his favorite books. Being a big fan of Victor Hugo, too, I wanted to find out what else was on his list. We talked about books and authors and deeper meanings for nearly two hours. It wasn't easy for him to talk, but his passion for literature was clear. So for any other "bookies" out there who also wondered what was on Jeff's list, here you go. The list is in the order he brought them up and a few of his comments are noted in parentheses:

1. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
2. Emma - Jane Austen
3. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (he likes the book best; the musical was great; he heard the 1998 movie version was good except it completely changed the meaning of the ending by having Javier kill himself)
4. Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien (A funny note on this one: Jeff said "Lord of the Rings" and for some reason I thought he was talking about "Lord of the Flies," which led to both of us being very confused for about 10 minutes.)
5. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis
6. The Screwtape Letters - C.S. Lewis (Jeff said he planned to give a copy of this book to any young man who wants to marry one of his daughters; he would give the suitor a weekend to read it and if he didn't like the book, Jeff would "seriously consider" not letting him marry his daughter.)
7. Surprised by Joy - C.S. Lewis ("experiences of joy are proof that God exists")
8. Miracles - C.S. Lewis ("the great imagination of God")
9. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
10. Romeo and Juliet - William Shakespeare
11. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

Happy reading and thinking of Jeff.

Editor's Note: In his will, Jeff left all of his books, including The Screwtape Letters, to Aubrey. I had no idea Jeff was plotting to use this book (which is also one of my all-time favorites) to derail her tender romances. Oh well. My girls are not allowed to date until they're married anyway.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Untitled

I'm sorry it's been a week since my last update, but I really have no news worth sharing and certainly nothing that could justify displacing the adorable picture of Yoda. Nonetheless, I thought I should check-in and reassure everyone that we are all doing well: no news is, indeed, good news.

However, I don't want to waste your time, so I'll share some observations from the week that you may find entertaining:

Now, you may or may not know that Jeff was a bit fastidious. Actually, he was a lot fastidious. And that may be too charitable a characterization because when I say "fastidious" I mean "obsessive-compulsive about cleaning things." (I say it with love). I am beginning to believe this trait is the product of nature and not nurture; one attributable to genetics and not environment. Here are my elements of proof: If you have spent any appreciable amount of time with Finn, you know that he loves to use the Swiffer. Some babies need a pacifier; some need a bottle; some need to cuddle their mommies; but, when Finn is in a bad mood, he can be instantly distracted and soothed by pushing the Swiffer around the kitchen. He also likes to vacuum and sweep. He is offended by is own runny nose and wants to wipe it himself with a Kleenex (which he then dutifully and instinctively throws away in the trash). He is also very diligent in disposing of anything else he finds on the floor that his sixth sense of "clean" tells him should not be there: wrappers, pieces of paper, etc. He picks them up, shows them to me as if to emphasize "you missed one" and throws them away. He played for 30 minutes today with a bottle of hand-sanitizer--and actually used it the correct way, alternately pumping it into his hands and rubbing them together until they were so clean he could have performed surgery. But the real eye-opener came when Finn and I were in the living room having a "dance party" yesterday.

Now, "Dance Party" probably deserves a blog entry of its own, but I'll reserve full-disclosure for another day and give you the abridged version tonight: the kids and I turn on music and dance until we are tired and out of breath. It usually lasts at least an hour or two and is non-stop fun. (The music changes all the time, but these days we have been listening to what some may consider "classic rock": .38 Special, REO Speedwagon, the Pretenders, etc.) While Regan and Jack were getting "dressed" (sometimes "Dance Party" requires costume changes . . .) Finn and I were warming up to some Beatles. I had a glass of water sitting on the coffee table and he had a sippy cup full of water. And then, as if guided by Jeff's heavenly hand, Finn walked over to the end table, took out a coaster, and put his sippy cup on the coaster. I said out-loud to him, "well, aren't you Daddy's boy?" He was very proud of himself. Meanwhile, I'm ashamed to admit I was negligently using a library book as a "coaster" for my glass of water. And I know he has never witnessed me use a Swiffer--nor has anyone. That kind of sighting is right up there with unicorns, leprechauns, and the Loch Ness Monster.

So, the long and short of it is: I know he doesn't get it from me. And even though I used to sometimes get annoyed at Jeff's fastidiousness, it was somehow both sweet and reassuring to see it come through so loud and clear in Finn. It was a neat reminder of all the ways Jeff will reveal himself through our children in the many years to come.

Until next time, take care and thanks for reading!

Kelly

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Happy Halloween!











Tony declared last night to be the “best Halloween ever” and I have to agree it was a pretty good time! Between the Murphys, the Popanzes, the Marklins, the Kenneys, and the Dodd Squad, we had quite a formidable group of trick-or-treaters. There was a devil, a jester, and a menagerie of animals: a kitty, a puppy, a lion, a cow (complete with udders) and even a baby dinosaur. Indiana Jones made an appearance and we had two ninjas in tow. Finally, we had Yoda (the younger, nimbler, light-saber wielding Yoda) who definitely had the Force—I’ve never seen so much candy. My kids will be in a Kit Kat coma until Christmas!

It was a lovely night—cool, but comfortable and the little ones held up well. After charming the neighborhood out of about 20 pounds of chocolate, skittles, and suckers, we came back to our house for chili, beer and wine. (Although one of our neighbors got the party started early by handing out candy to the kids and glasses of beer or wine to the adults to enjoy as we wound our way through the neighbordhood. Suh-weet!).

In other news, Jeff’s parents are visiting this weekend. Jeff’s mom has been helping with the kids while they are off school for Fall Break and Gary arrived in town today to spend some time with Jack and Finn doing “boy” things. (They are on a hike through the woods at the moment). Tomorrow is the annual memorial mass at our parish. Once a year they host a mass and breakfast to honor and remember all the people whose funerals were held at St. Jude’s in the prior year. So, the kids and I and Jeff’s parents will go to the mass and breakfast and then to the cemetery (assuming I remember to set my clocks back tonight . . .)

So, our streak of great weekends continues. The Force is truly with us.

Love, Kelly

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Very Quick Update . . .

Well, I finally got my drink--a whiskey sour to be exact. My friend Di invited me out to dinner, so we went to Maxie’s Southern Comfort on a gift card (Thanks, Jill!) and had a perfectly pleasant evening. Jeff’s mom is visiting through the weekend and she generously babysat the kids so I could go out. Aubrey and Regan were at a volleyball game while Jack and Finn enjoyed one-on-one time with Grandma. The kids’ fall break is off to a roaring good start.

Tomorrow will bring even more excitement: Halloween! We’re having friends and neighbors over for dinner and trick-or-treating. I can’t wait. All the kids have really great costumes this year. I’ll post another update—complete with pictures—after tomorrow’s festivities. Until then, thanks as always for continuing to check in. I appreciate knowing you’re there.

Kelly

Saturday, October 25, 2008

My Mr. Miyagi Moment

I can't let the day end without acknowledging that Jeff died exactly one month ago today. I'm starting to appreciate just how much this is gonna suck.

I finally had my "Mr. Miyagi moment" tonight after I worked myself up into a sufficiently potent (and pathetic) mood of self-pity. First, I have to say that self-pity is hard for me to come by. My natural disposition is just stoic enough that I generally feel sorry for no one--and this includes myself. I mean, young parents die of cancer all the time. It is not an uncommon tragedy. And I dare say most of them leave their families in far worse positions than Jeff left us. We are fortunate to have enough food and money and medicine; I have a good job and nannies and a cleaning lady and more offers of help than I could ever accept. I have friends and neighbors who are extraordinarily rare in their generosity and overall helpfulness; my children are well-adjusted and happy; we are healthy; my kids will continue to live in the same house and go to the same school and have the same friends and teachers and bikes and bedrooms and backyard that they had before cancer ever invaded their lives.

And even when cancer came, it struggled for 21 months in the inhospitable atmosphere Jeff created for it and although it claimed his left leg and, ultimately, his life, it never claimed his wits or his pleasantness. Jeff was "Jeff" until the end. There was never a moment when he did not recognize us; never an instance of unconscious aggression; no scary memories of seizures. So, as terrible as it is and has been-- cancer and treatment and Jeff's death and the month that has followed have all been very humane considering the possibilities of what it could have been like, and what could have happened to us; and after considering what does happen to other young families who do not have all the blessings and good fortune and fairy dust that we apparently have. So, (before you wonder where I'm going with all this), these are just a few of the reasons why I find it hard to feel sorry for myself.

However, tonight was an exception. Today two of my dearest friends--married with kids-- mentioned that tonight was "date night" for them. The idea of a "date night" with my husband only emphasized how unmarried I am and how no night is "date night" for me. How there is no one to get dressed up for. Nothing to get excited about. Nothing to talk about and no one to listen. No one to point out the things on the menu that I might like. No one who'll pick-up the tab and pay with our money then drive us home to our house in our car. These thoughts especially stung because I spent "date night" crying through a dinner I ate at our kitchen table alone.

Aubrey had to babysit one of Regan's friends tonight and Regan was invited to come along. A friend brought dinner over, but by the time it arrived and we were done visiting (and by the time I got everything and everyone to the table), it was time for the girls to leave. They took their plates with them and Jack finished his dinner while I fed Finn. Only then, could I, myself, eat and by then Jack was in the basement watching a movie and Finn was playing on the floor. I was so exhausted and sad that I just started to sob. It concerned Finn enough that he came over and crawled in my lap and gave me a sweet baby hug. As I sat there eating and crying, it made me think of a scene from the move Karate Kid (which was one of Jeff's favorites, by the way). In it, Daniel quietly watches Mr. Miyagi mourn his dead wife on the anniversary of her death. Mr. Miyagi gazes at her candlelit picture as he sobs to her in Japanese--all while completely drunk.

Likewise, on the anniversary of Jeff's death (albeit the one-month anniversary) I indulged in my self-pitying ritual while I ate and cried and I had no excuse as good as utter drunkenness.

Hasn't anyone the decency to offer me a drink?

Kelly

Thursday, October 23, 2008

cheerleading+Chanel+classic horror movies + dances= aubrey's life!
















hey everybody!! it's aubrey! i was just posting a blog because i was pretty bored and i thought you might all want to know what i've been doing lately. the title of this blog pretty much sums up what's going on with me right now, but i'll give you details ;) let's start from the beginning.....
as you can see from the photo on the left i've been cheerleading! if you don't already know (even though you probably do) i made cheerleading captain a while back, and our first game is on Tuesday, November 4th. all of the new cheerleaders are really psyched up for it and i'm excited too! the other captain and i have really whipped the new girls into shape and now they are totally ready for the first game. they also all have really good atitudes which is awesome :)) anyway, cheerleading is taking up a lot of my time and energy, but it's super fun so it's worth it.
when im not cheerleading, i'm getting ready for halloween (hence, the jack-o-lantern in the top right). incase you can't tell, the jack-o-lantern has the Chanel symbol carved in it. i couldn't think of a face to make, so i made a designer label, which i think is really cute and i don't care if you think it's stupid or not :) this halloween i'm going trick-or-treating with my best friends and then we're getting scary movies. i don't really like trick-or-treating because i think it's cold, it gets boring after, like, 20 minutes, and it takes WAY too much effort to put together a halloween costume. but it's nearly impossible for me not to have fun when i'm with my best friends! also the trick-or-treating will be completely worth it at the end of the night when we're on a huge sugar high getting scared to death by classic horror movies. speaking of horror movies, incase you actually care which ones we're getting, we will be watching "The Changeling" "Hide and Seek" and something else but i forgot what. (we might not get "hide and seek" though because we don't want to be scared to take showers, lol!)
well, other than that i haven't been doing much lately... there's a dance at my school tomorrow so i'm going to that. but other than that nothing excited has happened lately or will happen in the near future that i know of. gotta go! love you all :D



aubrey kate

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Weekend Report



Wow! What a weekend. I dare say it's one of the best weekends we've had in a while. On Saturday morning, Regan played soccer (her team won!) and our dear friend, Tony, came to watch her play. Afterwards, Tony's wife and twin daughters (who are Finn's age) met up with us at our house. The kids played in a big leaf pile in our yard and we all had lunch before heading off to the Pumpkin Farm! Yay! Although this pumpkin farm had a bit of a twist--instead of offering the usual hay rack rides to a pumpkin patch, it was also a petting zoo.

Now, as an aside, when I think of "petting zoo" I think of goats, rabbits, maybe even a pony; so, I was a little taken aback when I saw the big Siberian Tiger in what looked like a tricked-out dog kennel. Oh well, at least they left three-inches of jagged chain link at the top of the 10-ft high fence surrounding the tiger so that if it flew into a rabid frenzy and climbed the chain link (which I imagine a TIGER could easily do) it would at least suffer some slightly uncomfortable belly scratches before it devoured anyone. I'm sure the prospect of a completely superficial scratch will make it think twice before it tries to jump the fence and eat the turkeys and chickens that smugly strut (uncaged) on the dirt path directly in front of it constantly. That poor tiger has to watch all manner of delicious foul and goats and pigs and toddlers walk around in front of it--its gonna snap someday. Hear me now, believe me later.

Needless to say, the kids and I largely avoided the tiger and, instead, entertained ourselves with a more innocuous brand of feline: wittle bitty kitties! The petting zoo featured an attraction no kid can resist--a large pen of irresistible newborn kittens. Every kid there, without exception, begged to take one home (my kids included), and I wondered to myself how many kittens the business loses to theft each day. These kittens were very young--their eyes were open but they were still nursing. I know this because the mama cats were in the pen feeding them and kids were pulling them straight off their mothers and I wondered how these poor things ever get enough milk to survive. There is a sign encouraging patrons to gently handle the kitties, and kids were swarming them and grabbing them from the pen and each other with such uncivilized desperation that even I started feeling competitive when all these other kitten-grubbing little kids were bobbing for kitties and my kids were coming up for breath empty-handed. But my kids hung in there and eventually all three of them held some kittens. Jack was particularly careful and doting. Finn was panicked and disgusted by them--he wouldn't even pet one.

After we left the pumpkin farm, we were honored to attend a tree-planting at the kids' elementary school in Jeff's memory. Regan's Girl Scout Troop decided to plant a tree at their school as a living memorial to Jeff and yesterday was the big "planting." All the Girl Scouts were there; many parents stayed to help; other friends just came to support us and to honor Jeff. It was very touching. The girls were very dedicated to the task and the parents that helped made it both fun and educational. I was very impressed.

We kept things going today and went to mass and then to the cemetery. The kids took turns watering the sod on Jeff's grave. This afternoon we went to our nanny Lauren's house and carved pumpkins with her dad, sister, brother, cousin, and friend. We provided the pumpkins; Lauren's Dad provided the hospitality and one of the best meals I've ever eaten in my entire life. That only sounds like hyperbole, but if anything it is an understatement. This man can cook! It was a wonderful, wonderful evening. One of highlights of the night was that Jack and Regan met their new idol: Lauren's big brother, Brian. Brian is super cool and was a very patient playmate. (I think I owe him a beer). The kids said all the way home how much fun they had and what a great night it was. I'm sure that will be small consolation to Lauren's Dad when he realizes the magnitude of the disaster we left in his wake. (I think I owe him a 12-pack; and possibly some legal damages). Somehow the pumpkins seem like an insultingly inequitable exchange!

But, I'm happy to know that this weekend my kids played hard and had fun. The best part now is that they'll sleep well tonight and, if they're lucky, they'll have dreams of artful Jack-o-Lanterns and kitty-whisker kisses.

With love and appreciation to all the friends who treat us like family,
Kelly

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Mass and Memorials

Hi All. I just wanted to let you know that a Memorial Mass was held for Jeff today at 7:30 a.m. at the Pius X High School Chapel in Lincoln, Nebraska. I don't know if they planned it this way--but the mass was held almost three weeks to the minute since Jeff died. Father Jim Meysenburg, Superintendent of Pius, and Monsignor Liam Barr, Pastor of St. Joseph Catholic Church presided over the mass. Monsignor Barr is a long-time family friend of Jeff's and is one of the priests that married us and that also concelebrated at his funeral. But, his greatest contribution to Jeff's life was that he unwittingly played match-maker in Jeff's love affair with Irish tea when Monsignor Barr's mother taught Jeff how to make a perfect pot of Bewley's in the true Irish tradition!

Now, back to the business at hand: Over 60 of Jeff’s classmates, past teachers, and family attended the memorial and breakfast reception this morning. Fresh fruit, coffee cake and breads were served; lots of memories were shared; and I hear that stories from the blog were shared too. Thanks to everyone who planned and executed the event and an even bigger Thanks to everyone who attended to honor Jeff.

In other news, I am beginning to get a handle on the magnitude of the memorials people gave in response to Jeff's last wishes. I will be forwarding your generous donations to St. Jude the Apostle Parish, the Wilson PTSA, and the Notre Dame Club of Milwaukee next week. In the meantime, I am most astounded at the memorials donated to our family and designated for the benefit of our children--in all, nearly $4,000.

Before Jeff died, he said that he was "afraid someone might try to set up a scholarship fund for the kids" as a result of his death. This may strike you as odd given that most parents would HOPE someone would establish an educational fund for their children's benefit. But, not Jeff. He was strongly opinionated and felt that because he had to always work as a teenager and pay not only for college but for his own high school tuition and for all of his other personal expenses (gas, dates, entertainment, etc.) that our children should, likewise, pay their own way through college via summer jobs, work study opportunities, scholarships and student loans. Jeff's rationale was that anything you earn yourself, you will truly appreciate. Anything given to you for nothing will be taken for granted.

This is where our opinions diverged. I, too, have had a job since I was fourteen years old--more often than not, I had more than one job at a time. However, this was not imposed upon me by my parents as a means of fostering responsibility or maturity. It was not intended as an example for my younger siblings or as goodly use of talents to benefit my character and my community. For me, hard work was something else.

I was raised by a single mother who, throughout most of my childhood, worked as a waitress. I only dreamed that someone would throw me a bone so I wouldn't have to work so hard. I saw my mother work, and work, and work, and work with no reward other than bad knees and discounted meals from her employer. I saw my two brothers suffer through six years in the Marine Corps because it was the best way for them to get money for college. I was a smart and talented kid: I got good grades, I was a asset to my employers, I was a responsible and popular babysitter. But, I'm 35 years old and I'm still paying off student loans. I think this is the essence of where Jeff and I had different perspectives on hard-work and paying your own way: he saw it as a virtue and I saw it as an inescapable, sometimes painful, necessity.

In fact, one of the saddest realizations for me during Jeff's illness was that I was going to be a single mother and not because it meant I would have to work hard for the rest of my life, but because I knew that my kids would now have to work hard too--and not the virtuous character-building hard work that Jeff had envisioned for them, but rather the kind that makes you tired--the kind that makes you also work hard against bitterness and jealousy.

But, even Jeff, at the end of his life, began to understand my perspective. One of the greatest gifts of his illness was the empathy he developed. He said that although he achieved everything he had on his own, he felt that he did it at the expense of getting to know Michael and Michelle (his youngest siblings) better. He said that when he wasn't at school or a related activity, he was working and as a result, he feels like he lost out on a lot with Michael and Michelle.

And, so, what I'm getting at here through all this long-winded family history and disclosure is that I've decided to divide the $4,000 in family memorials among our four children to be used for their educations. I don't know if Jeff would approve of this decision, but Jeff was analytical and logical and objective, so here is my argument: If our children are able to earn even $8.00 per hour as high school students, and work approximately 15 hours per week while still engaged in school and activities, then $1,000 will amount to nearly two months of gross wages. This will give them some latitude in the employment they pursue (for half of one summer, anyway) and may even give them the opportunity to spend two months volunteering--which is an absolute condition precedent nowadays to getting scholarships and university acceptance letters. It will relieve their burdens ever so slightly, yet hopefully be something that will give them some breathing room if they ever feel overwhelmed by the piling-on of educational costs or the expense of "just one more thing" (like several application fees to various colleges). And, Jeff can be reassured, $1,000 per child is not enough to spare any one of them the necessity of hard work, summer jobs, scholarship applications, and student loans. And, in my opinion, it's not getting "something for nothing" that they, therefore, won't appreciate. Their father died. They will "earn" that money every time they give Finn a bath or fold a basket of laundry or rake the leaves because Jeff is not here to help me with those things.

So, I like to think Jeff would agree with my executive decision. If not, I hope he'll let me know . . .I'm still waiting for my "sign."

Love, Kelly

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

No News

I really have nothing new to report: I just thought I should post something as a strategy to maintain interest.

I went back to work this week--and no sooner did I arrive at the office than I was summoned to jury duty. God definitely has a sense of humor. So, I spent most of my first day back on the job at the courthouse with 40 other Milwaukee County citizens undergoing voir dire (a fancy lawyer word for "jury selection.") Fortunately, I was not selected for the five-day-long trial that will usurp the rest of the week. Whew!

Today, was much better. Work was good. After work was even better. Tonight the kids and I went with one of our nannies to watch her little sister's high school Varsity volleyball game. It was a lot of fun. The kids were very well-behaved (meaning nobody ran onto the court) and I got to visit with other adults. It was a relaxed, fun, all-around pleasant evening.

Finally, I have selected Jeff's (our) headstone (we have side-by-side plots and a joint headstone). It will take two to four months to deliver but it will be worth the wait. I think it may very well be the nicest headstone in the cemetery. The kids all helped choose it and approved the final decision. It will be nice to finally have a monument to landscape and decorate. Believe it or not, some of Jeff's "neighbors" have Halloween decorations on their graves. I don't know why, but it strikes me as ironic.

Speaking of Halloween, the kids are gearing up--Jack and Finn have their costumes already. Regan is still finalizing hers. We've put up some decorations and might try to carve pumpkins this weekend.

So, that's the Big News around here. And after two years like we've just had: no news is good news.

Love, Kelly

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Sunday Ritual: Take Two!

I've received a couple of phone calls today inquiring whether today's "ritual" was any better than last week's. I hope no one thought I was too disappointed or sensitive about last week's antics: quite the opposite. I was trying to illustrate just how quickly things return to "normal" and to make light of how sometimes, as parents, we have to just roll with the punches.

Nonetheless, this week's "ritual" was better. First, Finn woke up at 8:00 a.m. instead of 7:00 a.m. Suh-weet! Life always seems better after an extra hour of sleep. I fed him a banana to tide him over while Jack and Regan helped me make Monkey Bread. (It only has four ingredients and is so mindless that even I can manage it). So, we feasted at home on Monkey Bread and sausage. While we ate, I casually mentioned that, "Oh yeah, by the way, this is Dad's memory breakfast for this week, so what memories do you want to share of him?" Regan was only marginally annoyed that we weren't going to a "real" restaurant, but was quick to share her memory. Jack and Aubrey chimed in, too, and then Regan asked "what do you miss about Dad, Mom?"

I said that "what I miss most is not having him here to talk to." Regan said, "well, you'll always have us to talk to." Which was a sweet sentiment, but, understandably naive. The kids cannot substitute for Jeff--I cannot speak to them as friends or confidants. They cannot soothe the realization that from this point in my life, every tragedy that befalls me will find me alone and undefended. They cannot help me rationalize the resentment I feel when I consider that no man who was obligated to take care of me for the rest of my life ever stuck around to finish the job. No--I must save these conversations for the good and patient friends who have stayed on the phone with me past midnight and, perhaps, for any unwitting pedestrian who has the ill-fate of standing within earshot of me.

Of course, I am kidding. I have not had to turn to strangers for help or a listening ear thanks to all of you who so generously continue to support me and my kids. But this weekend has been particularly trying--and for no other reason than I'm tired. I'm absolutely physically exhausted. And I've realized that no matter how many sincere and well-meaning people say, "I will do anything you need, Kelly"--they simply cannot. They cannot be at my dinner table, half-way through a meal, when Finn has decided he is DONE and I am still trying to eat (usually while standing) and wipe whatever bare minimum of yogurt from his hair and face and hands will allow him to be picked up and attended to and still allow me to finish eating. They cannot rescue me when I'm getting slapped and kicked and cried-on and snotted-on (Finn still has a cold) in church and take a turn in the hallway telling Finn "no no" a thousand times as he terrorizes the drinking fountains and Holy Water fonts. They cannot, while I am taking MY turn in the hallway, take the burden off of a grieving 13 year old who now must enforce the "rules" ("be quiet, Jack; kneel up, Regan") for children who are--more often than not--orphaned at mass. And I know that having Jeff would not necessarily mitigate these scenarios--in fact, he had been unable to physically lift Finn for quite a while and had slowly abdicated his role as our household's primary parent throughout the summer. But, it was still nice to have someone who could share a knowing glance or who would at least try his hand at distraction or who would give my eyes and ears a moment's rest. Because when you have two parents in the house, one parent can at least assume the other parent is occupying the children if they are too quiet or nowhere to be seen. Now, I have no such satisfaction. Instead, anything and everything that happens, happens on my watch. There is no changing of the guards or leaving my post. It makes me tired.

But, before I submit to my pity party, I think you should know this: (1) I am a Big Baby because I am uncommonly privileged to have two world-class nannies who take-one-for-the-team five days a week. They--and the kids' schools/teachers--do most of my weekday parenting for me, so any sob-story you get from me is pure hyperbole; and (2) this weekend held many highlights that far surpass any sadness or frustration implied above. First, I--singlehandedly--put sod on Jeff's grave. It looks so much better. Jeff would be astounded to know I did it myself (sod is freakin' heavy!) and he would likely be full of criticism about the end result, but it looks better than it did, so I'm happy and proud that I actually accomplished something on my "to do" list (and, uh, speaking of my "to do" list: writing the thank you notes is slowly making its way up the list. Baby steps.). Also, the kids had a fun weekend with their friends and anytime they can play with friends and have a sense of freedom and "normalcy" it's a good weekend. I smiled outloud when I had all my kids and the Murphy boys in my van (on a quick outing to Dairy Queen and the park) when they started singing along with a CD Abe brought along. They all belted out "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. I loved it. It couldn't have been more fitting, either . . .

As for the rest of the day: I talked to my sister; my Dad called to check on me; friends brought us food; they had donuts at church (!!!); I finished three loads of laundry; AND I even snuck in a nap while Finn was sleeping. So, all in all, it was a very good day.

I'll update again soon. Until then . . .

Kelly

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Eerie

"Jeff,

This is bound to be the dreariest, most sorrowful day of my life. My happiness, my spirit, my everything left when you did. Tears are spilling down my cheeks and all I can think about is how much I need you right now . . .

And so today, I begin waiting. Perhaps I will learn some patience. it's like you said, in so many words--'I'm sure there is some good to come of out of this.' . . . You are priceless to me, Jeff, and now that you are away from me, the memory of your presence is my most valuable possession and until you return to me, I will relive every moment I've ever shared with you--I will feel every touch, hear every word and read every letter all a thousand times because each thing I do will bring me one second closer to having you back with me. I feel so hollow, so lost and so far from the world. I will always love you--you are all I think about, you're all I see and feel and there's not enough words in the world to describe the pain of missing you."

I wrote these exact words in a letter to Jeff on September 26th, 1992--the day AFTER he left for Ireland to study abroad for a year. So, that means he left for Ireland on September 25th, 1992. It's eerie to think that 16 years later--to the day--he would depart again and that I could have written that same letter to him today as I did so many years ago.

On a side note, "eerie" is maybe a little too close for comfort to the Gaelic (Irish) word for Ireland: Eire.

Jeff and I wrote literally hundreds of letters to each other from the time we met on my Dad's birthday (June 9th) in 1989 until we were married on Jeff's birthday (May 21st) in 1994. Jeff put several of the "better" letters in a scrapbook and gave it to me for Christmas several years ago. I was going though it tonight and found the letter quoted above.

I was puzzled as to why Jeff chose September 25th to die. I sensed that he thought he would be dead by September 25th, but I did not understand the significance of that date. In the weeks preceding his death, he had had several visitors offer to visit shortly thereafter (September 25th, October 3rd, etc.) and each time he told them to come sooner--he was afraid the 25th would be too late. As September 25th approached it appeared he was wrong--he had not yet shown evidence of the "active stages of dying" and despite profound and difuse liver tumors he had shown no signs of jaundice or other complications of liver disease whatsoever. He was mentally sharp and was not in a coma. In fact, on the night of the 24th, the hospice nurse told me that his lungs were clear, his heartbeat was strong and that with young people, "their strong hearts can keep them going for a while." So, I was surprised the end came so soon--but not surprised it came on September 25th. Now it seems clear: that is Jeff's preferred day for special departures.

'til next time . . .
Kelly

Monday, October 6, 2008

Rituals and Remembering

Welcome back. Shortly after Jeff died (and maybe even before), the kids and I decided that we would create a new family ritual: every Sunday we would go to breakfast and tell our stories and memories of Daddy; we would go to mass, and then go visit him at the cemetery. This past Sunday was our first opportunity to implement our ritual. Let's just say it looked better on paper than it did in action.

First, Finn had been up since 7:00 a.m. and needed to be fed almost immediately (as usual). His little tummy is hungry when he wakes up and he is very impatient! So, Finn feasted on Eggo Waffles and, since he had already had breakfast, was likely going to be an unwilling participant in the second breakfast I was plotting for him. I waited until Jack and Regan were awake and I barely pacified them until 9:00 a.m. when I decided it was time to wake up Aubrey (she had been out late at a friend's house the night before). So, we got a late start and didn't leave the house until 9:30 a.m. My vision of all of us joyfully springing out of bed simultaneously, dressed and ready to go at 7:00 a.m. was beginning to seem a little ill-conceived.

Then I got another bad idea: I let the kids negotiate with me to determine the breakfast restaurant. So, due to the regulations of democracy, we ended up holding Jeff's first memorial breakfast at McDonald's. (Note to self: No more governing by consensus). I have nothing against McDonald's, by the way. In fact, I love the Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit meal, but I had envisioned four very well-mannered and well-dressed children enjoying a manicured buffet and a view of Lake Michigan.

Instead, this is what I got: at McDonald's, Jack and Regan fought with each other, Aubrey couldn't choke down her breakfast burrito because it was laced with salsa, and Finn had a temper tantrum because he wanted Jack's pancakes (note that two whole hours had elapsed since he had been fed. He has the appetite of a Hobbit). Although, to clarify--Finn didn't really want the pancakes. He just wanted to practice eating them with a Big Boy Fork. So, when he wasn't making a total mess of himself, he was screaming in frustration at the uncooperative fork. He labored for approximately 20 minutes under the mistaken belief that throwing his head back, twisting backwards in the highchair, and covering his face in snot and tears was the secret combination that would unlock the mysteries of the fork.

Old ladies, (who were clearly regulars and who clearly make Sundays special at McDonald's) were looking at me with either exasperation or pity--I'm not sure which. I'm pretty sure it was exasperation, but I'm going to pretend it was pity. So, as soon as was reasonably possible, I announced breakfast was over--Regan finished her pancakes and sausage in the car on the way to the cemetery.

At the cemetery, the kids were only slightly disturbed by Jeff's grave. His grave is still very raw and fresh--just a pile of dirt littered with clods and sticks. They said, "it looks like he could reach up out of it." And I have to admit, they are right. So, I am going to transplant some grass/sod from our yard onto the grave. Jeff would love that and the kids will enjoy visiting more. So, after making their morbid observation, they (with the exception of Aubrey), chased each other around the cemetery. Then we loaded up and headed off to mass.

Mass brought it's own fun and excitement: First, I don't think I've enjoyed an entire mass start-to-finish since 1995, so I shouldn't be surprised, but Finn was as boisterous and obnoxious as he could be. So, after I settled the kids into our regular pew, I ushered Finn into the hallway. While we were out there, we met another parent with his one-year old daughter--she was also too energetic for church. We were chatting and loitering near a statue of Jesus when Finn looked at the statue and said, "Da da." He tried to climb up to it (it was on a ledge and the statue itself was 3 or 4 feet tall) and he started waving to it and blowing it kisses and calling it "Da da." It was truly adorable and completely heartbreaking. The man I was visiting with said, "well, he must sure like his father if Jesus reminds him of him." I said, "his father died last week and he just misses him and looks for him everywhere he goes." The man looked like he was going to throw up and said, "Oh, I'm sorry." Then, he scooped up his daughter and took her over to the opposite side of the vestibule and didn't talk to us anymore.

Now, I'm aware that I create a certain awkwardness for everyone I encounter--anyone who knows of my situation and meets me must grapple with whether or not to say something; whether to acknowledge "It" and, if so, what to say, etc. but I had never had anyone literally run away scared. The good news is that Finn was undeterred. He continues to search for Jeff and was delighted tonight to find him in a picture in our home office. He picked up the picture and pointed to Jeff's face and said "Da da." I clapped for him and told him how smart he was to find Daddy in the picture. He carried the picture around for a while before trying to take it out of the frame--proclaiming "Da da" intermittently and applauding himself. Again, it was both adorable and unbearably sad.

But, I am comforted to know that God is "father of the fatherless" (Psalm 68:5) and will be my co-parent going forward. On a side note, I am less comforted to hear that God is "judge of the widows" (Psalm 68:5), because if you read the "Rules for Widows" (1 Timothy 5:3-16) in the First Letter to Timothy, it sounds like young widows are not held in particularly high esteem. So, I shall endeavor every day to deserve Jeff's station in Heaven.

Well, it's late and I'm tired, so I must sign off for now. Thanks for reading! Until next time, take care.

Kelly

Saturday, October 4, 2008

A Quick Update

Jeff's hometown newspaper, The Lincoln Journal Star, ran a short article about him and his blog today. You can access the article on-line via the following link:

http://www.journalstar.com/articles/2008/10/04/news/local/doc48e6b7642bf9d009654031.txt#blogcomments

In the meantime, I have learned that there will be a memorial mass for Jeff in Lincoln, Nebraska on Thursday, October 16th at 7:30 a.m. at the Pius X Chapel with a light breakfast to follow. One of Jeff's high school classmates asked me to pass this information along. Please RSVP to her at schrollfamily@gmail.com if you plan to attend so they can estimate a head count.

In other news, all is well on the home front. The kids are happy and thriving--I'm sure in no small part due to the fact we continue to be surrounded by loving and compassionate friends. I've been fortunate to have deep and meaningful conversations with several friends and family members--my fear of having no one to talk to seems laughable! It's been a very good weekend and I am so grateful that I've been able to eat and sleep and that I have not succumbed to sorrow or fear--both of which seem to have grown bored with me and have meandered off to annoy someone else. I'll gladly take the reprieve.

Please check back soon.

Love, Kelly

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Untitled

It seems melodramatic to say that I've survived one week without the love of my life--especially when other wives send their husbands to war with no promise of a return or even a phone call for months or years on end. Indeed, if at any point during Jeff's illness God had said to me, "Kelly, I will cure him. He will live forever in complete comfort and happiness, but in return, you have to promise to never see him or hear from him again" I would have quickly and without hesitation agreed to the bargain. The fact that Jeff is dead really doesn't change the terms all that much--I merely need to uphold my end of the deal. So, now I must wait for "forever" to come so that I can see him again.

The trouble is that forever can be a very long time. I used to never feel like I had enough time to do anything--I rushed from task to task and place to place under the constant pressure of too little time. Now, all I have is time. Now, there is nothing BUT time. For Jeff, "forever" was only 36 years, 4 months and 4 days. I think of all the times I prayed for a long healthy life and now I think, "be careful what you wish for--you just might get it." And of course, I want to live a long and healthy life--especially for my children--but I long to see Jeff's blue eyes again and to hear his voice and I worry that my memories of these things will either distort or diminish over time and that, eventually, I will only remember the Jeff that I created and not the one that was.

I know I will never forget Jeff. The kids will never forget him. And it's clear from the amazing turn-out at his visitation and funeral that others will remember him fondly and often. I know it sounds crazy, (I'm convinced that grief breeds insanity), but I would love a little reciprocation--just a little sign from Jeff that he remembers me too. I thought that death would bring more mystery and emotion. I thought that I would have a dream or hear a song or see a cardinal in the yard (Jeff loved watching them from our back porch) or some other glimmer of other-worldly communication unmistakeably intended for me. Instead, I am astounded by the nothingness of death. There are no signs. No sense of his presence. No shadows or flickers in the corner of my eye. There is, quite simply, nothing.

Even stranger, is that this does not upset me. Today, no one has cancer. Today, I am no one's wife. Today we are a party of five instead of a family of six. I have pondered these facts with an uncharacteristic ambivalence. I love Jeff and always will, but he is dead and as much as it pains me to say it, I will be fine without him. I have to be. And my kids have to be. So we are going back to school and back to work and will continue to live as the living do. Furthermore, I believe that if Heaven is all that we are told it is and someone in Heaven can only experience blissful moments, then the more we cry and lament and beat our chests in grief, the more we separate ourselves from Jeff because he cannot share in our agony. However, by living joyfully and by laughing and smiling we draw him nearer to us. So, I am choosing to grieve happily and to mourn consciously in joy and with the expectation that it is helpful to Jeff and, therefore, to all of us.

In the meantime, I am tethered to this world and the human emotions within it, so I still cry and feel sorry that Jeff had to suffer and die so soon and I make room for him and his memory in our "new" life without him. I have visited his grave twice each day since he was buried. He does not yet have a headstone (they take two or three months to deliver) and in the meantime, his grave is unmarked, so I bought a "shepherd's hook" (for hanging baskets in a garden) and placed it at the corner of his grave with a special wind chime hanging on it. Jeff loved wind chimes (which is not something he widely publicized), and would always shop for one as a souvenir when we went on vacation. Unfortunately, he never found one that had a sound/tone that he liked. So, I don't know if he'll like the sound of the one I gave him, but it is beautiful to look at--very eye-catching--and will at least make enough noise to herald the fact that he is buried beneath it.

Well, this is a long and rambling post, but now that I have no one to talk to at night, you will likely see more where this came from. Sad, but true.

Until next time, thanks for continuing to support us and pray for all of us. I am slowly making headway opening all the cards and memorials and have been overwhelmed by people's generosity and kindness. Our house is filled to bursting with flowers and food and it is such a comfort--not to mention a flattering reminder of what a wonderful father I chose for my children and that you all chose as your friend. May God Bless him and Keep him.

Kelly