Perfect Fall Weekend

I'm finally uploading some pics from our weekend in New Jersey with my family. It was the first time we all (the three of us, my parents, and both sisters with their families) had gotten together since ... well, since before Kostyn was even a gleam in my eye. It was also the first time anyone could remember us all getting together for a weekend that didn't involve a major holiday or milestone (birthday, wedding, graduation, baptism). It was so nice to just be together, without obligation or expectation. And to spend less than two hours in the car to get home?! A dream come true, for sure.
Here are a few snapshots from our time at Kielynn's gorgeous new digs....

We went on a hayride to a nearby pumpkin patch on Saturday morning.


Kostyn must have walked a half-mile through that patch, like Forrest Gump I tell ya. I couldn't keep up.


Here's my brother-in-law Hank with his two cuties, Cora and Zayvius. (Cora's forehead is healing from a nasty incident with the corner of a concrete patio. Stitches to repair the muscle AND stitches to close the skin. Yikes.)


My brother-in-law Luis with my other nephew, Tesher, who makes any hat look good.


Little guy walked so much through that pumpkin patch, he crashed hard on the hayride back to the car.


The weekend involved plenty of hikes through the woods, which are gorgeous and peaceful and right outside Kielynn's back door. So jealous!


The three older cousins slept in a tent upstairs. Took them a looooong time to settle down, and not everyone got an equal share of blankets, but I still can't wait until KO is big enough to join 'em.


Lisa shot this nice pic on Sunday afternoon. (I am loving that wrap my mother-in-law just sent me. So cozy. Thanks, Mom!)


And finally, if anyone reading this is on my mother's Christmas card list, expect to get a copy of this one. All four cousins together, actually smiling at the same time. It took many, MANY tries.

'Animal' in the making

I need to post photos of the great weekend we just spent with family, but in the meantime I couldn't resist sharing this one, taken a few days ago. Kostyn's making himself at home on Chris' kit these days, and he's graduated to using two drum sticks! He's the next John Bonham, I tell ya. (No disrespect, Jason...)

God is Gracious

It's amazing what one moment can do to shift your perspective on things. I had such a moment this afternoon as I lay there on the ultrasound tech's table with goo on my stomach, my ankles crossed and my arms folded on my chest. Watching all four distinct chambers of a tiny heart pumping on the screen. Then the flash of a hand, a perfectly formed spine, a leg. Then two tiny feet with ankles crossed just like mama.

I waited and waited and waited, through all the measurements of the heart and stomach and head, as the tech laughed at my baby's stubbornness to uncurl itself from its cozy position and give her a better view of things.

Finally, finally, the words I didn't think I'd need to hear as much as I did: "Everything looks healthy," she said, and a tear trickled down my cheek.

And then, "It's a boy." And I smiled the kind of smile that hasn't yet faded from my face, and the first word that came to mind was "Evan." It had been a name Chris mentioned weeks ago in passing and at the time I didn't really react to it one way or another. But there it was, as if he was naming himself. Toward the end of the session, he finally turned his face to look right at us, and opened and closed his mouth a few times. He looked like he was trying to say something. Don't worry, little one. I heard you.

So Evan it is. I've had mixed reactions to the name so far from those we've told. Some said they liked it. One said it wasn't as strong a name as Kostyn. Another said it was common. Some said it seemed to go well with Kostyn.

None of that really matters to me, because, quite simply, that's his name and I feel like I didn't even pick it, although I love it. From what I've read tonight, "Evan" means either "God is Gracious" or "Young Warrior."

God is Gracious, indeed. Evan, we love you! Hang tight in there. You and I still have some work to do...

Yawn

Kostyn and I got up early this morning. Real early. I was annoyed, snuggled as I was under the covers, not wanting to move. But a toddler waits for no sleeping parent. So, up we got. Him, babbling all the way down the stairs; me, cursing silently.

We wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, and when I opened the fridge door to get out his usual yogurt, fruit and milk, he spotted it: The pasta and sauce he'd had the night before for dinner. He LOVES pasta and sauce (good little Italian boy that he is). He grabbed that Tupperware dish off the shelf and handed it to me, then ran to his high chair. I cocked one eyebrow and thought about it. Pasta for breakfast? I've had worse. Bill Cosby has given his kids worse. But it's not breakfast food. I tried putting the pasta back in the fridge and said "You can have that for lunch; how about a waffle and some yogurt for breakfast?" He ran back into the kitchen and grabbed the pasta off the shelf. Thrust it at me. Gave me a look. Turned back to his high chair.

I heated up the pasta. He ate every bite. And now we're BOTH smiling.

Yard work


I raked this morning, for the first time in a dozen or so years. It felt fantastic. I'm sure that feeling will wane quickly, but right now, I'm soaking it all in. I think I like the smell of fall almost as much as the sight of all those colorful maples.

Anyway, Kostyn is loving the falling leaves too, and we had fun with him this morning. He'd never seen his mama raking leaves, and was eager to help. For a while...



I should mention that I debated whether or not to put this video clip up here because I REFUSE to believe I sound this rednecky. I DON'T. (Do I?) I had to have been channeling the accent of the woman I'd just talked to from Columbia, S.C. (I always used to sound more "Southern" after an interview with one of "them"...) According to Chris, my hint-of-a-Southern-drawl seems to come and go, and he doesn't always notice it coming out of my mouth. Neither one of us noticed this morning, for example, until we were replaying this video back tonight.

That's what nine years in the Lowcountry will do, he said. I replied, "Ah know!" Then I rolled my eyes at myself.

I think I need a few good weeks in the North Country to get me squared away with those flat "a's" and "i's" again. Hopefully next weekend when I hang out with Lisa, who in my opinion has a definite upstate New York accent, she'll shake the South right outta my words. Love ya, Lis!

Do me a favor and put the volume on "mute" before watching this, would ya?

Confession

We started a journal for Kostyn when we found out we were having a baby. We wrote in it throughout the pregnancy, talking about how excited we were to meet him, telling him more about us, daydreaming about the future. Many friends and family members wrote their own messages to him after he was born, when they came to visit, and we still write to him sporadically. It’s a treasure that he will one day cherish, I’m sure. We thought it was so special that we pledged to start another journal when we found out a second child was on the way.

I’m halfway through the pregnancy, and I’ve only written in the new journal once.
Somehow, I’m ashamed to admit, my anxiety keeps getting in the way of my excitement over this kid. And I don’t know what to do about it.

It’s not that I love this baby less than I love Kostyn. My heart overflows for both of them. I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant, and was expecting to feel more and more excited as the pregnancy went on. I thought the second time around would be even more amazing than the first, because I have living proof right in front of me — twirling and laughing and chasing the cat — of what’s to come, of all the blessings this little being will bring to my life. I was expecting to feel joy. Wonder. Expectation. And maybe just a little anxiety over juggling it all.

I was not expecting to feel this scared.

I’ll be 20 weeks along on Tuesday, more than halfway to full term. If the baby cooperates that day, we’ll know after the ultrasound whether we need to start working on a boy’s name or a girl’s name. Every day the baby gets more and more “real” to me. And every day I grow more and more anxious.

I don’t know how to describe the fear without sounding pathetic. I know that millions of women — millions of couples — have more than one kid and do just fine. I just am not convinced I will do just fine. I worry -- excessively, more than most doubting parents-to-be -- that I’m not cut out for it. That I’ll fail. That I’ll fail them.

It seems like having a second child is both no big deal, and monumental.

I was as prepared as possible for the lifestyle changes that were necessary when Kostyn was born. Compromises and sacrifices were made both willingly and begrudgingly in just about all facets of our lives. But I feel so stripped of selfishness and freedom now, what more do I have to give a whole other (extremely needy) person?

And where will I get the patience? Some days I barely have enough for Kostyn. Some days I have all I can do to not drown, to just tread water in my own life, a life I used to feel so in control of. Some days I cry over that loss of control. I don’t know how much more I can relinquish.

I wish I had a crystal ball to look 20 or 30 years into the future and see them, these two little angels, to see if I’ve done right by them. Are they happy? Have they found love? More importantly, do they love themselves? I don’t know, maybe knowing that I’ll succeed will give me the freedom to risk failing. Then again, where’s the life in that?

I see and admire parents all around me who seem to have an abundance of patience, creativity, selflessness and humor. I’m not trying to be melodramatic when I say I don’t think I have enough of any of those things. And I’ll need them, in spades.

The baby started kicking me a couple weeks ago. Just tiny little nudges as he or she stretches or turns over. It makes me smile, like someone’s telling me a secret. But every single nudge is a sobering reminder of what’s to come, and the questions rise up uncontrollably in my heart. Will I be ready? Will I be a good mother? Will I lose more of myself? Or will I find more of myself than I ever knew existed?

I’m not writing this for words of encouragement; I need those to come from within. I’m writing this because I needed to admit my fears so that I can face them. I’m writing this because I desperately want to be a good mother. I’m writing this so that I can start writing in that journal. The baby deserves that, and so, so much more.

For awhile now I’ve wanted to tell someone. Anyone. No one.

So I’m telling you.

Bustin' a Move

One of my favorite things to do these days is watch Kostyn dance. Not sure if he's got much rhythm yet — it's really more of an interpretive style — but he sure knows how to cover the dance floor. He really likes this song, so it's getting a lot of airtime in our house. This is too long a clip for anyone but a dedicated grandma or aunt to watch, but I had to post it anyway..... Enjoy, Grammy.

Glub, glub

Kostyn and I ventured to Baltimore today to take in the National Aquarium with my pals Amy and Betsy and their little ones. We definitely had our hands full, with a 1-month-old, a 16-month old, a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old, but it was a lot of fun and I'm so, so thankful to be able to do stuff like this now with people like Bets and Amy.

The only casualty of the day was Kostyn's left shoe, which somehow fell two stories into the tank of giant fish and monstrous stingrays. Luckily a helpful scubadiver was right in the vicinity and scooped it up before it became someone's lunch. Kostyn spent the rest of the day wandering through the exhibits in his stocking feet, and I had a helluva time relaying the story to Chris without sounding like I'd been pulling a Michael Jackson and dangling our precious son over the shark tank when it happened. (I wasn't. Swear!)

Our hands, eyes and minds were pretty preoccupied with keeping track of the kids, so we didn't even get a group shot of our outing. This is the only picture I took inside the aquarium. Not the best but you get the idea. Cute kid, fish.

Kinda cool

My old editor, Tom, e-mailed today to tell me that he received a call from the director of National Alliance on Mental Illness-South Carolina. He said NAMI Beaufort County had nominated me for the state's Reporter of the Year award, and I won. How cool is that?

I'm touched because that's the best part about my job -- trying to impact someone's life in a positive way through words. And I guess the folks at NAMI thought enough about the stuff I've written about their organization to throw me a bone. So this is a totally self-congratulatory pat on the back, which I know is lame. But I was happy and wanted to share.

Here's a column I wrote last year that focused on what the local NAMI chapter does....

Mental illness group helps family get their lives back

By Robyn Passante
Published Sunday, September 9, 2007

Thad Cooley probably isn't fully aware of where the last 10 years of his life went.

His father, Ted Cooley, knows all too well.

In 1997 Thad was a bright young professional. Having graduated from college with honors, the 28-year-old had a job, an apartment, a life of his own. His parents, Ted and Betty, lived in another state but saw their son regularly, and about that time they began to notice some things Ted calls "strange." Thad began having strange moods. He sent strange e-mails. He talked about strange things, such as how the FBI and the CIA were watching him.

Still, two years went by before Thad's disordered mind got to the breaking point and his parents truly saw the downward spiral their son was on.

"It takes a long process for (people with mental illness) to accept that they are mentally ill," Ted said. "They fight the process."

In 1999 Ted went to Charlotte, where Thad was living, and found his son's life in total disarray. He had racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

"He hadn't paid a bill. He hadn't paid a tax," Ted said. A major part of mental illness, he said, is the difficulty patients have managing money, jobs and relationships.

The Cooleys brought Thad home with them, where he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. But there would be more years of ups and downs, medications tried and hopes dashed, as Thad struggled with the battles being waged by chemical imbalances in his brain. All the while his parents struggled to understand what was happening to their son.

Finally, in 2003 Ted and Betty saw an ad in the local newspaper for a Family-to-Family class on living with mental illness through the local chapter of the National Alliance on Mental Illness. NAMI is the nation's largest grassroots mental health organization dedicated to improving the lives of persons living with serious mental illness and their families.

Going to that first meeting, Ted said, was like switching on a light in the darkened room they'd been sitting in for so long.

And to their surprise and relief, they weren't the only ones in that room.

"That class changed our lives," said Ted, who used every NAMI resource available to educate himself and advocate for his son.

NAMI has been a lifesaver, literally and figuratively, for the Cooleys. It gave Ted and Betty the knowledge and the strength to support their son through "tough love," even allowing him to go to jail instead of continuing to pay his bills for him.

"You've got to be tough," Ted said of how family members have to stop bailing out and making excuses for their sick loved one if they want them to get better.

Two and a half years ago, Thad hit rock-bottom, and his parents admitted him to Beaufort Memorial Hospital. There he got more intense care and a clearer diagnosis -- schizoaffective disorder.

According to the NAMI Web site, "schizoaffective disorder is one of the more common, chronic, and disabling mental illnesses. ... To diagnose schizoaffective disorder, a person needs to have primary symptoms of schizophrenia (such as delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech, disorganized behavior) along with a period of time when he or she also has symptoms of major depression or a manic episode."

Thad's story is heartbreaking but not at all uncommon. Statistics show that about 6 percent of the U.S. population, or 1 in 17 Americans -- suffers from a serious mental illness. It is estimated that mental illness affects 1 in 5 families in America.

More and more of these families are being helped by NAMI. NAMI Beaufort County boasts about 200 members, and the need for more support is there: Each week the local office gets 15-20 calls from people wanting help or needing information on mental illness.

Today Thad lives in one of five apartments on Hilton Head Island owned by NAMI Beaufort County and rented out to people recovering from mental illness. He receives disability benefits, and Medicare helps to cover the cost of the five daily medications he must take for his brain to remain stabilized.

Passionate about the need for more education about mental illness and advocacy for those suffering from it, Ted now serves as president of NAMI Beaufort County.

He and Betty also lead a couple of caregiver support groups in the area, where, Ted says, there's always a new face looking as bewildered and relieved as they once did.

Ted retired eight years ago, yet this month will mark the first time he and Betty have been able to take a trip away from Thad for longer than just a couple of days. Thad is doing so well that he is looking to get a part-time job.

Still, Ted is a realist when it comes to his son's disease.

"Something could go wrong tomorrow -- that's just the world we live in," he said. Gone are the dreams of his once-healthy son marrying and having a family, or climbing the corporate ladder.

"Our dreams now are that he can have a job, he can live independent. He can have friends," Ted said.

Whether he knows it or not, he already has several -- every member and supporter of NAMI Beaufort County, which has helped Thad and his parents, and so many like them, get their lives back.

Rest easy,

...my Lowcountry Democratic comrades, ye friends who have been reminding me of the importance of registering to vote in a state where my vote might actually matter (Ian, Jeff, Morgan, Allison, Heather...). I did it today, in signature style the very last day I could register in order to vote in the general election.

So I am officially on the books in the Commonwealth. Even got a call from Michelle Obama thanking me. So, ya know, you don't need to. :) Wish y'all could join me in PA at the polls...

Falling in love with fall

It was a gorgeous fall day here and we took advantage by going for a long walk by the river in downtown Harrisburg. It had been ages since we had any pics taken of us with KO, so we took a bunch. Kostyn made it all the way across a bridge over the Susquehanna, and halfway back, before I scooped him up and carried him, squirming, the rest of the way.

Chris has a hard time getting my whole head in the shot along with Kostyn. This is one of several examples...


He loved checking out the water.

Notice Chris' entire head is in the shot....


Don't ya just wanna pinch his cheeks?!

He made it to this expansion joint on the bridge and was suddenly wary of crossing it. It took a lot of convincing. Strange, given that it was the only strip on the bridge where you couldn't see straight down to the water.

My beautiful little baby is now a beautiful little boy.

Friends and family are starting to ask me if I'm "showing" yet. This is the best shot we took where you can see a little bump there. I'm just about 18 weeks, so almost halfway there!

Now I'm Hungry...

If bacon and cheese on a burger makes me gluttonous, well that's just fine with me.




What Your Burger Says About You



You are very gluttonous. Even if you're full, you'll still clear your plate.



You have trouble making decisions quickly. Everything looks good to you... especially at a restaurant.



You are creative, open minded, and friendly. You are interested in all types of food and new dishes.