When I was a kid, I hated ham. I also hated cheese. I was at my Grandma’s one day and my Papa (in our world, that word is pronounced “pawpaw.”) was eating a ham and cheese sandwich and I just sat there and watched him. He was sitting at the kitchen table by the window with that sandwich in his hand, taking nice, slow bites. He had this look on his face like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.  He looked up and saw me watching and said, “Grandma, make that baby a sandwich.” So, she did. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated both cheese and ham and that I was watching him so intently because I couldn’t understand why he liked it.

My Papa finished his sandwich and went into the living room to read the paper. Though I was doubtful, I decided to sit down and take a bite of that ham and cheese sandwich.  My suspicions were right… I still hated ham and I still hated cheese. I looked up at my grandma and said, “I don’t want this.” She said, “You already took a bite out of it so you’re going to eat it.” She wasn’t a mean woman or a mean grandma, but she lived through the depression and wasn’t about to throw out a perfectly good ham and cheese sandwich to please a 9 year old. I was a shy, quiet 9 year old, even with my grandparents, but, I wasn’t about to choke down a big old nasty slice of cheese and an even bigger, nastier slice of ham. So, I bided my time.

Grandma finished whatever it was she was doing and left me to my sandwich and joined Papa in the living room. Now, let me try to set this scene a bit more. My grandparents had two tables in their kitchen. There was the big table down by the sink and then a second, smaller table up near the front of the kitchen, facing the street. That’s where they kept the refrigerator and stove along with a cabinet they used as a pantry. I was sitting at the table by the sink… right next to the trash can. If I had been smart, I would have buried that ham and cheese sandwich in the trashcan.

But, I decided that was too risky.

Grandma might look in that trashcan and find that sandwich. So, what did I do? I took the ham and cheese off bread and threw them across the kitchen, where it was flung over top of the pantry cabinet and slid behind it. Then, I ate my bread and joined my grandparents in the living room. I thought I was pretty clever.

About a month later, I was back at my grandma’s and she told me she found that sandwich. That’s all she said about it. She didn’t scold me. She just said it matter of factly; “I found that ham and cheese sandwich.” Then she just gave me a look. That look was enough. She didn’t have to scold me. I felt terrible.

The reason I am telling this story now? I made Christopher a cheese quesadilla tonight for dinner. He only ate one little triangle of it. Now, this is the young man that comes downstairs almost every night of the week begging for more food at bedtime and he is also the young man that I have to fight with each night to get him to eat dinner. So, I said, “You have to eat at least two triangles tonight or no snack.” Jim, who has already heard my ham and cheese sandwich story, just came into the kitchen to tell me, “Mommy, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I just caught Christopher hiding his quesadilla behind the couch cushion.”

My, how the tables have turned.

When my grandfather died I was only 24 years old. It was the first family member I had ever lost. It was devastating and I grieved more than I thought possible. I believe he reached out to me in my dreams to comfort me. I have had this discussion with my younger sister, Amy, and she has said the same thing. We have shared stories with each other about incredibly loving and heartwarming dreams we have had of Papa. It gave me some peace in my time of grieving for him.

Since my sister died, I had hoped I would have those types of dreams about her as well. In the dreams I had of Papa, it felt as though he was telling me that he was alright; that I was going to be alright and that he will always be there for me.  For the first few weeks after losing my sister, I would go to sleep each night just waiting for those dreams to come. When they never did, I finally stopped wishing for them.

She has only been gone a little over a year now. I still miss her terribly and think about her often. But, the overwhelming feeling of grief seems to have passed. Again, I still miss her but it isn’t quite the same.  It isn’t quite as gut wrenching anymore. Time marches on, I guess and, while things will never be the same without her, I think I have finally gotten used to the idea that she is no longer with us.

Two days ago, however, I was driving in the car by myself after dropping the boys off at camp when Tom Petty’s “Don’t Do Me Like That” came on the radio. I felt Chris rush around me like a tidal wave and I just started crying. I cried so hard I had to pull over and park. The funny thing is that Chris wasn’t even a big fan of Tom Petty. My sister, Amy, and I are the big Tom Petty fans. But, we had a surprise party for Chris’s 50^th birthday just four months before she died. The day of the party, Amy and I had to hide out so Chris didn’t know we were in town. So, we spent most of the day at the Italian American club, just hanging out and decorating. An hour or so before the party, we drove to the store together to get some last minute items and decided to sit in the parking lot and listen to music for a bit. What were we listening to? My Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits CD.

We decided we would listen to one song then head back inside. Then that song ended and another one began and we looked at each other and said, “Ok, one more song.” That happened for about five songs. We were having a blast just rocking out to Tom Petty in that parking lot, singing and laughing, the speakers of my Camry cranked as loud as they could go.

I’ve listened to Tom Petty many, many times since then and, while I have remembered that moment with Amy, it has never had that kind of effect on me.  But, I believe Chris was watching me because, last night, I finally had the dream I’d been waiting for.

In my dream, she called me on the phone. I knew the moment I heard her voice that it couldn’t be her; that she was no longer here. Jim was standing next to me and I told him, “It’s Chris! But, it can’t be Chris!” Jim just looked at me and whispered, “Just listen to her.” She was laughing and talking to me about nothing, just like we had when she was alive. But after only a couple moments she said to me, “I have to go now but I’m ok.” I tried to get her to keep talking but she just said again, “No, I have to go now but I’m ok.” I believe with all my heart that she was finally reaching out to me because, the one thing I was most worried about after she passed was, “Was she ready to let go and is she alright?” I’m sure a lot of people feel that way after losing a loved one but, she fought so incredibly hard and had so much faith that she was going to beat her cancer that I’ve always worried about that. Was she finally ready to let go or was she lost somewhere, wondering what happened to her? I feel like I finally have my answer.

In a wonderful fantasy world I live in, we get our boys in bed by 7:30 every night. In truth, it’s usually closer to 9:00 PM. They are fed and bathed by the time Daddy gets home from work but, Jim is the type of Daddy that wants to spend some time with them… and the boys love that time, too.

When Jim gets home, which is usually after dinner, the boys sit in the living room with him and have their bedtime snack of apples and milk (I still don’t understand how they mix those two… ew… but I digress…) Then, they head upstairs to brush teeth and have bed time stories. Most nights, however, silliness ensues the minute they get upstairs and, before I know it, all three of them are wrestling on my bed and screaming and giggling.

A couple weeks ago, the silliness started while the boys still happened to be downstairs just as it was getting dark and the living room curtains were still open. Jacob noticed the fireflies in the front yard. He was ecstatic! “Daddy, Mommy! What are THOSE?” So, we took both boys outside and we all caught lightening bugs for about thirty minutes.

Last night, Jacob asked if we could do that again but we were all so tired that we told him we’d do it again tomorrow. He was disappointed but didn’t put up a fuss about it. But, tonight, Jim got home from work a bit later than normal. They had their snack and then headed upstairs. As Jacob was lying in bed reading stories with Jim, he suddenly remembered the promise we made to him last night. “Daddy, we forgot to catch lightening bugs tonight!”  Daddy looked over at me and said, “A promise is a promise.”  Christopher heard that from his room and came running into Jacob’s room. “Are we going back outside, Mama?”  Who could say no to that??

We all went back downstairs, put shoes and socks on the boys and spent another half hour running around the front yard, catching lightening bugs.  They got into bed much later than planned and, I know this means it will be harder to get them out of bed for camp in the morning. But, they had the best time and we did a lot of laughing together.  We can always be late to camp. They won’t always want to go catch lightening bugs with us.

I know I make a lot of mistakes with my boys, as most parents do. None of us are perfect.  But, there is one rule of parenting that I stick to emphatically; I never make a promise to my boys I can’t keep. I thank the Lord that I married a man that feels the same way.

I got my first cell phone about the year 2002. I wouldn’t even have had one then if I hadn’t been dating Jim. He decided to get one and wanted me to have one, too. Otherwise, I really don’t know how long I would have gone without one. In fact, I had my cheap little flip phone until just last summer, when my friend (and the best babysitter on the entire planet!), Jasey, decided to drag me into the 21^st century.  She actually drove me to the mall, took me to the Apple Store and told me what kind of iPhone I should have.

Don’t get me wrong. Now that I have it, I love it. It is really nice to be in the car (when Jim is driving and I’m the passenger) with my family and decide, “Hey, let’s find the nearest Bounce U to take the boys” and be able to pull out that iPhone and call up Siri and ask her where the nearest one is.  Or, to be in Ohio and get driving directions to a new place in Cleveland we decide we’d like to see. It is a fantastic device that really does make life easier.  It’s also nice to be out and about and be able to check emails and texts if I need to or to get on Facebook and check in with friends when I have a down moment somewhere.

BUT… those down moments for me are NEVER in the car. When I am in the car, my phone is in my purse, where I can’t even see it. When I hear that “ding!” that says I just got a new text, I don’t see it until I reach my destination. My current ringtone is The Beatles, “I’m Happy Just to Dance with you.” When I hear that song playing away, it plays away into voicemail if I am driving. I don’t even consider pulling it out to answer it.

So, when I am driving through town to take my kids to camp and I see a car swerving to the left into my lane when there is another car directly to my right, and I have nowhere to go, it infuriates me when I then see that, the reason that person is almost smacking into me and my kids is because he is too self- important to put his phone down while going 50 miles per hour down Georgia Avenue.  What is even crazier is that, the next three cars that drove by me were ALL LOOKING AT THEIR PHONES! So, I started looking around me (while at stop lights, not while driving 50 miles per hour down Georgia Avenue) and I was amazed at how many people are really foolish enough to be doing this!

Sorry, I guess I am on my soap box a bit here but, it makes me absolutely insane to think that those people are not only taking their own lives in their hands by looking at their phones while driving, they are also taking my life and the lives of my children in their hands… not to mention everyone else around them.

When I met Jasey four years ago, she was only 16 years old. She was driving my kids to camp for me one day and I called her. I wasn’t thinking, or, I thought enough time had gone by that maybe she had arrived at camp. She didn’t pick up. She did call me back about 10 minutes later and said they had just arrived. She actually said to me, “Sorry that I didn’t pick up when you called but I never answer my phone when I’m driving.” A sixteen year old is wise enough to know this. Why aren’t 40something year old adults? Put your phone down folks. You can call them back or check that text later.