Developing skills is a skill!

"Wisdom is knowing what to do next, skill is knowing how to do it and virtue is doing it." - David Starr Jordan

From the very day we are conceived, we begin growing. In the beginning, there are subtle changes that occur and then suddenly there are fingers and toes and other recognizable body parts. Oh! It's a baby in there! When we are born, we don't stop growing and developing; we grow taller, we learn to communicate and eat solid foods. But there is more than just growing and going along with the main stream of childhood development. There are things we call skills; talents each one of us learn or develop, grow into or grow to love. The challenge is realizing we have abilities and finding that special skill or skills inside of us.

Being a mother of two young boys, I witness daily growth, a lot of skill building and trying out new things for the first time. It is amazing what they learn, comprehend and actually hold onto in their own little skill bank. I admire that innocent talent so much.

I think, as adults, we sometimes lose that motivation for, or the understanding of, mastering a skill. We think we are too old, it's too dangerous, it's too complicated. Our life experiences of past skill building can stop us in our tracks. However, sometimes we surge forward after one ridiculous attempt after another just to say to others or even ourselves that we are a master at something. Even in the simplest of tasks, we can feel defeated and continue to try and improve upon the mistakes we have made in order to succeed just a little. We lose the grasp on the whole concept of how to actually become good at something. The other night we were reading a book before bedtime. My older son stopped me mid-story and said "I learned something in Kindergarten today. All you have to do is try and as long as you do your best, it's ok." Even now, I am not quite sure where that came from and why he said it right then. But a little piece of me thinks he was picking up on my own skill insecurities and thought he'd pass along a bit of this new found wisdom.

In my current professional situation, I am soul searching quite a bit; wondering if there are any real skills that I can offer to an organization. There are many jobs I would love to do, but am unfortunately an amateur at and therefore could not perform in a professional capacity. The skills I do have may not be able to offer me what I want at this point in my life. So I continue to research, soul search, try and do my best.

In my home life, there are also many jobs that I am still working on perfecting. For instance, I have yet to master the art of brushing my teeth while ironing. That is a skill set that definitely still needs some practice. Who ever invented the TV tray was a genius. However, they must have put that invention on the back burner for improvements, as I still have not yet mastered the skill of folding it without pinching my finger and somehow slamming it shut. I am thankful these are not important must-have career skills.

My children surprise me every day with their wonderment, their courage, ideas and their questions. All of the above are such positive strides towards perfecting their own skills. For them, anything can become a boat or a ship; the DVR, a cardboard box or our coffee table with a make shift bridge. My older son creates magnificent space ships out of the smallest Lego pieces. My younger son is so thoughtful. He comes out with questions like "If birds like breadcrumbs and chip crumbs, how come they don't like hot dogs?" and "If lightning McQueen is not a girl, why do they call him McQUEEN?" About two years ago, my older son started pushing our kisses in so they wouldn't fall off. My younger son has a memory like an elephant; he remembers discussions we had weeks ago, places we went, people we have seen and can recite it all back even if we do not wish to hear it all right then. They love playing sports like golf and soccer and using their imaginations with Legos, Star Wars figures and playdough. They are full of life and so much energy. And just when I think they are getting old enough for me to be able to teach them some real life lessons, it seems as though they are teaching me once again. I was having a difficult time trying to tie a balloon the other day and my son looked up at me with his big innocent eyes and said "You just have to practice, Mommy."

A Little Encouragement

The smell of apple pie baking in the oven. Just saying that gives me such a warm and nostalgic feeling inside. It reminds me of warm and happy times with my family, of being home and happy. There are smells, thoughts, songs, feelings and dreams that bring me back to specific times in my life. Whether these were good times or bad, I am immediately transported back just by a simple second of time crossing my path again.

I wonder what will bring me back to this time of my life someday in my future. I wonder; will it be a favorite song I play a lot right now? Will it be the taste of a mudslide martini? Will it be the Cantina song from Star Wars? Will it be the chilly rain misting on the tip of my nose in the crisp fall air? I wonder.

The future holds many positive times for me, I am sure. Many things can catapult me into the next phase of my life. In life, we go from one step of life to another in an instant and sometimes without us even knowing it is happening. Transitions and times of change can be so hard. I am currently going through a time of change and uncertainty in my life right now. I thought I would have more control over this type of change and I found myself completely opposite of that; out of control. I find myself leaning on what I know, what is familiar to me, what makes me feel good. I look for extra cuddles from my boys, winks and smiles from my husband, old songs, family traditions and good friends and family. These are what can get me through this weird time. I am needy. I am vulnerable. I am weak. I feel like I am going through a recovery period and going through the motions of being ecstatic, elated, shock, denial, bitterness, anger then finally acceptance and motivation and energy to surge forward. A good friend of mine really laid it on the line for me last week and helped me up off the floor; figuratively speaking. I was at my lowest point and she was there to be tough, loving and supportive. I was able to get up and stand up for myself. It was amazing what that did for me. I immediately felt better about myself and my situation. And though I am still stressed and unsure about my future, I feel more confident in myself and motivated to go after a dream or two.

I am dedicated to my children and teaching them about love, eating healthy, staying safe and now just how important it is to be confident in themselves. It's the memories that we make for ourselves as we go along our merry way that make us who we are. I feel so lucky to have to two young boys that I can help shape into polite and strong gentlemen. I feel so lucky to have two young boys that can help me get through my own tough times. I know there will be so many little things that will bring me back to this time in my life. Hearing the sound of their laugh, the smell of their fresh clean hair, the warmth of their hug and yes, probably the cantina song. But I know, I will remember this specific time in my life as a catalyst of change. I will know how important this was for all of us; me, my family and my friends. I am sure I will find my way and start to feel like a good Mom, wife and friend again. With a little encouragement, confidence or a genie in a bottle, I am sure it will all work out.

Thank you all for being so patient with me and supporting me. Thank you, truly. Now I am off to have a slice of my own fresh apple crumble/pie. :)

The Joy of Parenthood

I ask you to take this short journey with me this evening to the crazy side of life. If for no other reason, I am writing tonight to help myself through a chaotic chapter in my little short story. Maybe the future me will read this one day and wish I was back to this exact moment in time. Maybe the future me will relish in the memories and cherish them in the true belief that it was all good rather than crazy, cute rather than terror and maybe I'll just giggle. For now, take a walk with me to the dark side.

I know how fast time flies by and I don't want to miss these days later on because I am so stressed out. But when my Father hands me a book about overly sensitive children, I have to wonder..."Is it me? Is it what they are exposed to? Is it in their genes?" Naaaah, my children are not overly sensitive at all. Just because Charlie freaked out in the middle of a long walk because his Toy Story cowboy boots got wet and would not walk another step until someone wiped them dry. Just because Kyle had a panic attack this morning because I set out a shirt that actually had buttons on it! I don't know what I was thinking! I mean, we are talking BUTTONS! Those things are lethal! The way they just look at you like little beatty eyes! It's creepy just knowing they are there! I was actually sewing my son's shirt together this morning to overlap the buttons so he couldn't see them. Maybe that is me going too far. But he wore the shirt! Overly sensitive? Not a chance. (I'm reading the book)

I have a hard time distinguishing between fighting a losing battle and fighting a battle worth winning no matter what. I really hate the phrase "pick your battles." That truly means something different to everyone. "You are not excused from the table until everyone is finished eating." "You are not excused from the table until YOU are finished eating." These are rules either way, but I have been told many different versions by friends, Doctors and family members. "Don't fight with them about food, it's not worth it. They won't starve." "Let them leave the table, then you will get to have an adult conversation and they can go play." "Setting rules and boundaries are important. Don't give in or you are being inconsistent and they will confuse the message."

Speaking of mixed messages, my children love to play me like a fine tuned instrument. On a walk the other day, Charlie kept stepping in my path with his hands up for me to hold him. He cried and fell to the ground a few times. I figured "Pick your battles. Just hold him for a little while. He's little, it's a long walk." I would alternate. Hold, walk. Hold, walk. Kyle complained of pure and utter thirst. You would think he wouldn't be so thirsty with the amount of WHINE he was spilling out! Over and over, we heard about the thirsty child. We got to the beach and played for a bit. I ran back to get the car to avoid the horrific-ness of the long walk back. Charlie walks by the car and states very confidently "I don't want to ride in the car. I'm walking." I chuckled and plopped him into his car seat. I raced back to the house in order to get my dehydrated other son a drink. As I handed him a cup of water, he looked up at me with his big blue eyes like I had something smeared all over my face, paused and said "What? I'm not thirsty." and ran off to play.

I walk around most days a zombie due to being up most nights with Charlie as he wakes up at least four to five times throughout the night complaining of different ailments; a bad dream, the dark, his sock is crooked, he has to pee, he can't find Ariel, he thought I called him (& who knows maybe I did). It takes a while for him to settle back down sometimes. And me, well...it takes me a good half hour each time to fall back to sleep. By the time I do, you know who is back at my bed side purposely making a slight little hiccup of a noise so I know he is there. I squint open my eyes to see his little smirk and crinkled face like "I know I'm not supposed to be up, but here I am again....staring at you....."

Don't get me wrong, I do cherish and love my boys more than life itself. I would walk over hot coals for them in an instant! I just wish I knew how to handle the chaos a little better is all. I wish I knew how to be a better Mom. I guess I just keep playing with them, disciplining the only way I know how and plugging along with each day that goes by and treasuring those moments when my children are singing "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me" and "I got a feeling...tonight's gonna be a good night" at the top of their lungs in the middle of a crowded Stew Leonard's. I stare down the on-lookers, smile and start singing along with my boys. It's those moments I put in my pocket and pull out when I need to smile. The moments when I just don't think I can take anymore of the craziness and misbehaving, out pops a warm, heart-felt "I love you Mommy" from Charlie followed by a big hug and kiss. Kyle then tells me "Mommy, I just love you so much. I am going to love you forever, even when I'm old." Those moments..... stay in my heart.

Thanks for keeping me company tonight in this little path of thoughts I took. Maybe it wasn't so dark after all and it did what I had hoped it would. It made me stop for a few minutes and see the JOY of parenthood...no matter what.

A New Religious Journey in the Making

This past Wednesday marked the beginning of the Lenten season; a time when Christians reflect on their sins and come to terms with the fact that they are mortal and must do penance for sins. It's a time to reflect and become a "better person". At least, this is my own interpretation. I am in a place right now where I thought it was time to challenge my own energy, spirit and religion and since we haven't been to church on a regular basis in five years, it was also time to make more of a religious commitment to my children.

There are many events in my life that I wish I could go back in time to as the person I am today. Moments that I would love to look my past self in the eye and shout "Are you freakin kidding me?" or just take a different road. It's definitely my experiences that make me *ME.* My religious journey has definitely given me different feelings throughout different times in my life.

I try to instill the knowledge of God in my children and the thankfulness we should have to him for watching over us, taking care of our family and for giving us so much in our life. But church and lessons beyond home prayer has not been present in our lives.

So here I am, LENT 2010. I had an idea to make my Lenten sacrifice more of a commitment instead. A commitment not to yell at my kids as much and to expose them more to what God is all about and why we pray.

This may sound awful, but I actually bowed out of answering my son during Christmas this past year when he asked who the baby was in the nativity playset at my Mother's house. In that moment, I told my Mother that I was terrible at explaining all of it. She tried to take over and did a great job at teaching, but if you don't follow through on things, children tend to forget. Guess who didn't follow through? I really knew I was in trouble when I floated the idea of going to church to my five year old; Kyle and he replied with "Church? Is that where dolphins live?" Yikes. I kept talking about it the weeks to follow and explaining that it was God's house and people go there to pray together every week.

We decided we would go to church this past Saturday; the first mass of the Lenten season. In the morning, I told Kyle that we were going to church that night. He responded with "What kind of dinner are we going to have there?" Again, I reinforced the praying together; saying some of the prayers we know, some people only praying in their head quietly and the priest and other people telling stories from the bible on the alter. I talked about good listening and behaving...yadda, yadda, yadda. He checked out of that conversation pretty quick.

I had my own doubts even before entering "God's house" that night. I kept telling myself, "Open mind. New beginnings. Learning. Teaching. Humble. Acknowledging my own shortcomings." I was being positive, yet "reflecting that I need to be a better person." The boys didn't know what to make of it when we walked in and saw all of the people sitting in rows facing the alter. I think they thought we were going to see a movie. We sat down in an inconspicuous spot in the back. The boys were immediately taken with the thin paged missalett. They both paged through the books like they were actually reading the words. Suddenly, we heard the organ start to play. It was pretty loud and Kyle was not a big fan of the organ "noise" and the singing. He covered his ears. Instead of crawling under the pew right then, I chose to sternly tell him to take his hands down off of his ears immediately. He fought me a bit and then gave in. He was then taken with the kneelers; which I think every kid is at that age. He wanted it up, he wanted it down, he wanted to stand on it, he wanted to kneel on it and unfortunately, he liked dangling his legs and kicking it while he read his missalett. Charlie was pretty content sitting on B's lap reading books that I brought along with us.

Some things were different for us as well during the mass. They changed the order of some of the "routines", they added in some extra words during prayers and responses, there was even a movie clip that played during the mass. We were puzzled when the lights dimmed and we heard a beating heart rumbling throughout the church. A screen came down and we watched a video about lent. The priest then talked about how some people just go to church every week, they donate money and find something to give up during lent. He told the group that this was not good enough, he explained that people need to change and want to be better. At first, I was sort of taken aback by the fact that all of the items mentioned above were not good enough. But as he went on to explain, I really started to get what he meant.

We stood up, we sat down, we knelt, we bowed our heads and the whole church chanted prayers out loud together. I kept looking at my kid's faces and seeing amazement, confusion and disapproval in some of these catholic church rituals. Overall, I thought they were really well behaved. I was more worried about B and I. Moments startled me like when I started to say a prayer with a different response than everyone else in the church or when I grabbed the coat tail of the woman next to me and she quickly jerked it back toward her or when I held out my hand to say Peace to the woman sitting behind me and she just nodded and gave me a stern look not acknowledging my extended hand.

Later, as I stood here reciting the Apostle's Creed as if no time had passed between church visits, I thought about that past me; the one with no experience or so I thought. I remember standing in church filled with feelings of disbelief, doubt, grief, happiness, thoughtfulness and thoughtlessness. I remember questioning God, believing in God and wondering what I was going to eat for dinner. This night, as I stood before God and his family and surrounded by a much older generation, I somehow felt love and a feeling a accomplishment. If I could go back to that scared or scatterbrained person from the past, I would tell her "Someday, even if you do not go to church all the time, you will be still be filled with God." And even though we haven't been to church on a regular basis, this one visit made me realize that God is inside of me and a part of me and I have given that to my children. This will be my Lenten extension.

As they started music for communion, we honored my Grandparents tradition and quickly donned our coats preparing for our departure after communion. Again, I couldn't help but feel the disapproving stares from the primarily white and gray haired church goers around us. I also realized that it is hard to pray quietly when you dart out the door with children.

We grabbed an idea card for this week's Lenten assignment before we left and suddenly Kyle stopped and asked "Wait, was that it? That was church? It's over already?" I was surprised and happy at the same time. "So far, so good." I thought. We talked in the car about what we did in church and why. I hope this will also help me to improve my teaching skills, not to mention improve on my "church etiquette." All in all, I guess this will make ME a "better person" or at least give my children more of their own religious journey. We'll see.

Staying a Kid at Heart

When I was little, I always thought that nothing could beat being a kid. I loved playing with dolls, matchbox cars and my dog. I loved swimming, rollerskating, playing "kicker", riding my bike and going to the beach. Don't get me wrong, I had my bad times; fighting with my older sister, listening to my parents argue or moments of complete terror like the first day of school. But through all the bad stuff, I still loved being a kid. There was something so magical and fun about every day. I remember one of my teachers telling me one day "Never grow up, Patti. It's too much work."

And so I learned as I traveled along that growing-up-path just how much work it was. I had to get good grades, get in to college, get a job, drive a car, know my way around, make sure I was safe, not be too curious (but curious enough), I had my heart broken more times than I care to admit and I broke hearts of others. I made some mistakes, lost loved ones to a higher power than me, powered through hangovers, food poisoning, wisdom teeth, gum surgery and a miscarriage. What I really ended up learning was not that growing up is too much work, but that with each gut-wrenching moment of badness, something beautiful inside me grew even stronger. I became healthier, more confident, knowledgeable, experienced, stronger and wiser. So, yes a pessimist might say I grew paranoid and more scared of life. But I just call it being cautious.

I never knew. I never ever knew that there was something even better than being a kid; being a Mom. Seeing the look on my child's face when I found the exact Buzz blanket he wanted, that was priceless. When I saw him smile bigger than I thought his little cheeks could go and hug his new wii game, I actually got a bit emotional. Or when my youngest opened up the Seven Dwarves Cottage at his Grandparent's house on Christmas Day and nearly fell onto the floor with shock and disbelief that such a wonderful thing could actually be HIS. I giggled when I saw his little legs in the air as he lay on his tummy playing with the house for most of the next day.

Some moments make time stand still in my mind. I stand before my children simply as an observer and watch as little crumbs of life amaze and wow them. They see or feel something and they just say it or try to explain it outloud.

"Daddy, I really like your smile." Kyle said one day as we were about to sit down for dinner.

Phone conversations from Kyle in Connecticut while I was in Florida "Mommy, I am going to love you forever. I miss you so much."

Some of their senses are heightened too, like colors or smells; good ones AND bad ones: "What the heck is that SMELL?!?"

Their brains are always at work and they come up with some really cool ideas sometimes. One day, they planned a spur of the moment picnic in the middle of our living room instead of sitting at the table.

Though sometimes when they are just beat from a day of school and they don't want to practice their letters and words with me at home, I hear "Mommy, Let's have a snack and watch a movie!"

What they hear seems to be selective when I stand directly in front of them and tell them to put their coat on, it is as if I am yelling it from the next yard. I wonder if the hearing sense is something I should bring to a medical professional's attention. Then I realize just how selective it is when I am having a quiet conversation with a friend and mention Charlie's name and his favorite Jesse doll. Charlie quickly appeared from around the corner and asked "Me Mommy? Are you talking about ME? Are you talking about MY Jesse doll?"

Sometimes I wish I could be this honest and true with my feelings. They feel so much and I hope I can continue to reinforce their trueness. They are really the wise ones. Maybe they can teach me a few things. One day I will come into work and say to my boss: "I don't want to work today. Why don't we have a snack and watch a movie instead?" Or if I hear my name from outside of a closed door, just pop in and say "ME? Are you talking about ME?" Hmmmm....maybe not. But the thought of it, keeps me smiling and keeps me in tune with my own kids so I am still able to make days magical and fun, even though I went and grew up anyway.

Music makes my world sing

Music seriously hits a chord with me. It's how I live my days. Whether I have a tune or an annoying little commercial jingle in my head, it is how I start each day. The music, the rhythm, the lyrics...they all play a part in how my mood is or how it turns out to be. I also have to feel motivated enough when I am feeling down to WANT to feel "up" enough to turn on that "feel-good" music to snap me out of it and get me back to feeling ME.

In life, there seem to be different musical themes and soundtracks. For instance, Christmas would not be right without the sweet sounding carols that are played throughout the season. Summertime is another fun, musical time of year. The latest tunes can be heard from houses, beaches, parties and from cars going by.

We all have our own soundtrack. Songs that bring us back to our past in just an instant. It has to be one of the neatest phenomenons when we feel that we are transported back in time as soon as a radio station plays a song. I wonder what songs might bring my children back to this place in time RIGHT NOW. I wonder what songs will do the same for me? Some time in the future, I might be at the grocery store and a song will come on and I will then be transported back to sitting in my son's room while he is napping and I am writing my blog. I will be in this place right at this very moment even if for just four minutes. How magical that is.

Music helps me make dinner, dance with my children and decorate for Christmas. Music makes me feel better, sing better and write better. It makes me feel for other people, share and understand another point of view and focus on feelings. Music can break my heart, make me cry and tell a story better. Sometimes, it's another writers words that helps me to explain what I am feeling better than mine can and the musical tones behind the words just drives the point home.

I love sharing music with my kids. I give them a palate full of different music to listen to. From Frank Sinatra to Dave Matthews to Jack Johnson to Justin Timberlake and everything in between. I shouldn't be surprised when I hear Kyle singing out loud while he is playing or humming the tune to General Hospital while he is taking his shoes off. I shouldn't be surprised when I hear Charlie singing at the top of his lungs "Video Killed the Radio Star" while he is having Buzz Light Year and Woody battle it out with Emperor Zurg. I shouldn't be surprised. But I am. It surprises me, makes me laugh and gives me such a warm feeling inside. I'd like to think they are picking up good habits from me and not just those bad moments I have when I shout out a word because I stubbed my toe.

Nighttime consist of stories read and songs sung by me or my husband. And Charlie melts my heart when he serenades me with the Sound of Music soundtrack that he knows word for word. The cuteness is just too much to comprehend when he is singing with such passion and emotion "...when the DOG BITES, when the BEE STINGS...when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel soooo bad."

I have been told this is the time that children learn at their best. They can pick up words, songs, even another language because their brains are like sponges right now. So I teach them manners, sign language, numbers and letters and yes, MUSIC. I am in no way a musician, nor do I know how to read musical notes and cannot sing in a kind of voice anyone would want to hear on the radio. But I am an avid listener of what I would consider a plethora of good music. Someday, I would like to learn how to play piano. Who knows, maybe one of my boys will teach ME.

So sometimes you might find me drifting off to another time and space because of a random melody that found it's way into a current playlist.... but for now, I live in this moment with my children and my husband listening, dancing, playing and singing to our own soundtrack.

The mystery of the twinkle….solved.

Have you ever heard that expression; "You can see the twinkle in her eyes." What exactly IS a twinkle? What do people actually see? Is it water? A stray eyelash? That sleepy stuff that builds up? Is it really only salty tears brought on by a chemical reaction in our bodies? I suppose some Scientists and Doctors would come up with a sort of factual based reasoning. But I think it's more than that.

I just recently hosted my first Thanksgiving at my house. My Mother and I had talked about having a special separate Thanksgiving this year since we haven't really spent Thanksgivings together since I was young. I was excited and a bit anxious at the same time.

My Mother and I picked out the date and planned the menu together. I started feeling the excitement of the holiday already. It was fun for me right from the first moment of planning. Through text messages, emails and phone calls, we communicated while in the grocery store, when new ideas and thoughts crossed our minds and just to check in. I felt the bond with my Mother growing stronger. Through new technology and old traditions, I felt like we bridged across generations and time.

My Mother came over early that morning of our special Thanksgiving Day. The boys were already showered and dressed in fall colors of orange and brown and looked very handsome with their new haircuts. I, however, had not even showered yet, but it didn't matter. The excitement was in the air. My hair was pulled back and sleeves were rolled up. I was ready to rumble with that turkey, or so I thought.

My Mom and I chatted for a bit about life and current events in our lives. The boys were excited to have Nana at our house. She played with them for a little while, while I cleaned up the kitchen; picking up crumbs, old mail and other every day items from the week.

Mom kept saying "We need to get this turkey set." I knew I was ready. We we finally settled on the time that we would be ready to eat and we put a list together. My organized Mother put times, ingredients and other essential details next to each item on the list. We had a plan. We worked on different tasks throughout the morning like making the string bean casserole, creamed onions, butternut squash soup and peeling sweet potatoes. We had good talks, laughed a lot, we listened to old Christmas music she used to play when I was a little girl, we played with the boys, read books and had lunch.

It was now nap time for the boys and almost turkey time. We got the boys down to sleep and my Mom looked at me with a big grin. "You ready?" She asked. "I think so." I said nervously. We referred to the list and knew we only had a short time to get the turkey in the oven by our scheduled time of 2:00pm.

She had me do everything at the beginning and kept telling me. "This is your turkey today. You're going to do it." I took a deep breath and started cutting into the plastic netting and wrapping around the turkey. We cleaned the sink and plopped the bird in. I felt myself starting to loose the oomph that I once had before I realized I really had to stick my hand inside this BIRD. I had to separate myself from the fact that this soon-to-be main meal was once a living thing with parts and pieces that I would recognize more easily if it were alive. I started having conversations with myself about how bizarre this tradition really was. And who were the people that had the jobs of providing all of these birds to the stores in this fashion? I finally calmed myself down by reminding myself that Norman Rockwell's family did it and it's all part of the holiday season. I suddenly heard the Lion King Soundtrack in my head "It's the Ciiiiirrrrrcle of Liiiiiiiife....." I was jolted out of this private discussion inside my head by my Mother saying "You're supposed to be doing this...C'mon, shove that stuffing inside the cavity." "Awwww, Mom!" I shouted. "Do you have to use words like that? Cavity?" We laughed and she took over the dirty work, acknowledging that she did not realize how squeamish I was.

We got all the stuffing in and she rubbed the turkey with the remainder of stuffing on her hands. "This will help it to get golden brown at the end." She said. She had me do the honors of putting the turkey in. We closed the door to the oven and looked at the clock; exactly 2:00pm.

We finished up the other side dishes and I had to run to the grocery store to get more butter and rolls. While I was gone, Charlie woke up from his nap and played with my Mother; working on puzzles, reading more books, they enjoyed each other. I returned home and soon Kyle woke up and he helped out with the puzzles too. And then there it was...as all of this hustle and bustle went on, I didn't even remember that eventually there would be rewards. The glorious aroma of turkey permeated through my house. It really hit me when Charlie asked me what that smell was. "It smells so good in here, Mommy." My heart melted and I knew a tradition had been formed.

The boys were jumping around in delight, the final preparations were in full force and one by one the other members of the family came in from work. That holiday feeling was felt by all with cheers as each person came in and wine was poured. "What can I do to help?" was shouted in excitement by a few different voices. We couldn't decide who was best to slice the turkey and whether I had a big enough platter to put it on. Before we knew it, the Thanksgiving dinner was spread out in buffet style across my counter and everyone was picking out their favorites and loading up their dishes.

I looked around the room at my family members as a few different conversations went on simultaneously. The magic unfolded around me at every turn. Kyle and Charlie were so elated to have everyone over and even though they barely ate anything on their plate, they made up their own new Thanksgiving traditions like dunking their bread in cranberry sauce and playing Candyland with their Grandfather. Somewhere within all the table conversations, all the mmmms and aaahhhs about the food, I saw it. I looked across the table at my Mother and caught her eye. I saw a twinkle in her eye and words just poured out of my mouth "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Today was fun." I said. She looked at me with a big smile and said "This was wonderful. I am so happy. Happy Thanksgiving." And there it was, the twinkle. In my own Mother's eye, I saw that twinkle. I knew right then what it was all about. Every twinkle is a memory made, a moment remembered and special traditions created and dreamed up actually come to life.

I woke up the next morning having a mini panic attack. I realized I had not taken any pictures. I am the picture maniac in my family. I love to document my life with words but also with pictures and video. I felt sick to my stomach with this realization that there was no photo documentation of this glorious day I had with my Mother, the golden brown turkey that I made with her for my first Thanksgiving, no moments captured. So I as someone very close to me said, I was meant to write about this day and I must have been so engrossed in the awesome-ness of the day that I did not even think to take pictures. And even though a part of me believes this to be just fluff, I have these memories so close to my heart that another part of me will always remember how special it was, especially when I see that twinkle in my Mother's eye or when I look in the mirror, I will know why.