Are you kidding me right now? You’re 14? That’s just crazy.

Your birth was terrifying. I went to the hospital for a routine ultrasound and you arrived the next day, 10 weeks too soon. You were all of 2 lbs. 9 oz. and so small that I couldn’t fathom you would ever be as big as you are now. I still worry about you a lot, but nothing like how I worried back then.

Here you are with the lamb that watched over you for the five weeks you spent in the hospital. This was a momentous occasion, because you had reached 3 lbs. For the record, that is pretty much no weight at all. I can gain 3 lbs. if I eat too many tortilla chips.

People talk so much about how far your brother has come, but you are a miracle too. I guess you’ve always made it look so easy. You make a lot of things look easy. Mostly reading books. And, math. And, softball. And, organization. And, a lot of other things for which you could give me lessons.

I am somewhere BEYOND proud of you for how far you have come from that teeny, tiny preemie. I was about to say that you are an amazing kid, but you’re not really a kid anymore. It makes my heart hurt to say that, but I’ll be okay. Just don’t talk about going away to college or I’ll burst into tears. Fair warning.

Now, that lamb is dwarfed by your 14 year old self. See it? Up there by your head? It’s barely visible and yes, that’s the same lamb. Also the same person, but in a bigger bed and with less monitors and hospital bills.

There is something about you, though, that makes me NOT look back. With you, I tend to look forward. You have so much to offer this world and I can’t wait to see where you go and what you do. I have never been more sure of anything than I am of the fact that you can conquer anything to which you set your mind.

Except for how much I love you. I’m sure of that too.

Happy birthday, Goose. I’m so glad you were born.

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Although my family has been through their fair share of trials and tribulations, we are truly blessed for so many reasons, except for the medical bills part. Those really chap my hide.

Our tree, with a bubble wrap skirt.

In the true spirit of Christmas, I would like to hand out gifts today to some of the people who have had a hand in making my life a pretty darn good one. These aren’t real gifts in the sense that you can hold them in your hand, because those cost money. My son has a cardiac echo in a few weeks. You do the math.

Speaking of my son, I’ll start with him:

I give you the sped-up process of medical technology, so you won’t need open heart surgery and they can fix your valve with a catheter. I’m also throwing in an endless game of chess, a couple of friends, better hearing, and less anxiety. I’m sorry about that last one. You get it naturally.

To my friend whose husband walked out on her: I give you your 20 years back. You can keep your son, though. So, bonus!

To my father-in-law and my step-mother: You and your grandson and your whacky hearts! I give you all error-free tickers.

To my sisters: No pain anywhere in your bodies, peace, strength, and improved tech skills (it had to be said).

To my husband: Less stress. Okay, this gift is really for me. Think of it like the candy I put in your stocking that I eat the day after Christmas. It appears to be for you, but it’s really mine.

To my daughter: Many more good books to read, non-raging teen hormones (another one for me!) and I’m even going to throw in a pair of UGG boots. You’re welcome.

To my friend struggling with her faith: A homily that speaks to you, hymns that speak to you, and the warmth that I feel when I’m sitting in church. Well, that last part is because they keep the heat on BOILING, but you get the idea.

To my friend and co-worker, Denise: You get a month with your grandson, Johnny Mac Pippin.

To my friend Ree: I give you half the goodness that you have brought to my family. Only half, because the whole is JUST. TOO. MUCH.

To our new friend in Key West, Toni: I give you visitors with sweet memories of your father and guests who don’t blame you for cloudy days.

To my friend and co-worker, Melisa: Because you’re Jewish, I won’t give you a Christmas present. Instead, you get the birthday present that I never sent! Also, I’m probably going to throw in a extra spreadsheet to work on. I’m a giver like that.

To the wonderful readers who visit my little spot on the internet: I give you no tragedies, healthy families, an endless supply of Corona Light (oops, sorry…that’s for me), and a stellar 2013.

Merry Christmas!

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It’s been eight days since I posted here. A lot can happen in eight days. A lot can happen in an instant.

Almost 10 months ago we had a vacation planned that was intended to be more of a celebration of life than it was rest and relaxation. That trip was canceled at the last minute because my son got sick; months worth of planning changed in a matter of hours.

Last month, when my cousin fell ill and passed away, we were determined to finish what we had started. Despite my anxiety and complete lack of risk-taking behavior *holds Zoloft tightly in hand*, I felt like it was never more important to get my kids on a plane and head off to do things they, and I, have never done.

When I heard the news of the Sandy Hook tragedy, my family and I were halfway through a visit to Key West. One minute I was sharing photos of tropical drinks on Facebook and the next I was crying in the middle of a restaurant. I didn’t want to scare my kids too badly, so I waited until they were asleep before I got on my phone and scrolled through the news. That’s when I found out that fellow blogger, Victoria, lost her nephew in this senseless act of violence.

Victoria, me and Maria in happy times. Photo by Mishelle Lane Photography.

I had tried to keep the pain at bay by distancing myself from the news, but it was no longer possible to do so. I knew someone who was directly impacted. I was connected. As my children slept, I hugged them, kissed them, and prayed for the parents who couldn’t do such things anymore. I cried for Victoria and for her family.

I didn’t watch the news on Saturday or Sunday. Instead, we did what we originally intended to do – we celebrated. When I wasn’t holding my kids tight, burying my nose into their saltwater-scented hair, and being thankful to have them near, I was watching them live the heck out of life. I have another entire post on the generosity that made all of this possible. For now, just know that my heart hurts from the goodness of it all.

We went parasailing.

This is two of us waaaaay out there. Tandem parasailing – www.keywestsebago.com

Then, while my husband and daughter stayed with the Sebago crew and went snorkeling, my son and I rode six miles out to sea on Fury’s glass bottom boat to view the world’s third largest coral reef.

This was right before I turned around and yelled, “I’m the Queen of the World!”

Glass Bottom Boat – www.furycat.com

And if I had a waterproof camera I would show you the pictures of us on Barefoot Billy’s jet-skis in the Atlantic Ocean. This is where my anxiety took a back seat to pure enjoyment of life. I had so much fun jumping over waves that my daughter was holding tight to my waist yelling, “Mom! You’re CRAZY!” It was such an amazing moment that I couldn’t tell if my face was moistened by the ocean mist or my tears; maybe it was a little of both.

But, it didn’t end there. We went on a nighttime scavenger hunt, collected seashells and splashed around in the pool.

We fed sharks, we played chess, we bellied up to a few bars and we watched the sun set.

Feeding sharks at www.keywestaquarium.com

Ordering a Roy Rogers at the Hog’s Breath Saloon

I learned that it’s okay to take risks, that if your teen daughter is really happy she might even hold your hand, and more than anything I learned to never, ever take my children for granted again.

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My son will be 11 in May. He is the oldest kid in his class and he still believes in Santa Claus.

Half of the reason for that is because he had a pretty lousy start to life, so giving him a little extra magic is the least we can do. The other half is because he is brutally honest and we don’t want him to ruin it for the kids in his class who are many months behind him in age. Trust me, if he knows, he’ll make sure everyone else knows too.

Because he’s been lying so much, I felt the need to play the Santa card. I mean, if your child still thinks a jolly elf slides down the chimney and eats a bunch of cookies then you might as well use it for your benefit. Another advantage is that you get to eat a plate of cookies and pretend you didn’t.

So the other day I said, “This lying has to stop. It’s ridiculous. Plus, Santa is coming soon and I know you want to be on the nice list.”

Then I realized that he’s probably just going to go ahead and eat the cookies himself on Christmas Eve, because he replied, “But, I was naughty last year and I still got presents!”

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