This a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before. –Maya Angelou
Gratitude
On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I went for a run. By the time I came home, everything had changed.
Today is September 11th, 2015.
This morning, I gave my kids extra long and tight hugs. I looked into their eyes and I told them I loved them. I made sure they heard it.
After I dropped them off at school, I stayed and watched my son on the playground. When he saw me, he ran over and jumped into my arms. I squeezed him and whispered in his ear. I’m proud of you. I know you’ll do something great today.
The bell rang and he lined up outside the door with his classmates and went inside the school.
And then I went for a run.
Just like I have gone for a run every single September 11th morning since 2001.
My September 11th run is my thanksgiving.
On this run, I give thanks for this big, beautiful life I live.
I give thanks for the people I love. I give thanks that they love me back.
I give thanks for time.
I give thanks for experiences.
I give thanks for opportunities.
I give thanks for the heroes. I give thanks for my heroes, especially the little ones.
I give thanks for plans and for goals and for dreams.
I give thanks for quiet. I give thanks for noise.
I give thanks for the reminder that everything that is precious needs to be handled with care.
I give thanks for hope.
I give thanks for all the good I see every single day.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I went for a run. By the time I came home, everything had changed.
Every year since that day, on the morning of September 11th, I go for a run.
And I give thanks for the chance to give thanks.
KID
Thanks Dad
Thanks, Dad.
Thanks for taking care of me. Thanks for tying my shoelaces, helping with math homework, and standing on more sidelines than I could ever count.
Thanks for your guidance and all of the times you steered my shoulders.
Thanks for trusting in me. Thanks for caring about whether I made the right choices, but also for standing aside to let me make some wrong ones.
Thanks for believing in me and in my potential.
Thanks for being proud of me.
Thanks for setting high expectations for me and for teaching me to set high expectations for myself.
Thanks for reminding me that a little respect goes a very long way and a good work ethic will always trump talent.
Thanks for mustering up the strength and patience for road trips and Disneyworld.
Thanks for the carpools.
Thanks for enforcing curfews and requiring good manners.
Thanks for trying your best. Your best was pretty great.
Thanks for sending me off to college and off to marriage.
Thanks for showing me what it means to be a good man, so I knew what to look for in a husband and know what to help build in a son.
Thanks for showing me the importance and durability of family.
Thanks for helping create traditions that I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.
Thanks for loving my mom.
Thanks for loving my kids in the same way you love me.
And for all of the times I should have thanked you but didn’t, thanks for understanding.
I was always grateful. I always will be.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
For Grandma
We lost my Grandma, Ruth Intagliata, on January 2, 2015. She was just shy of her 91st birthday.
At her funeral, we gathered together, to mourn, of course, but also to celebrate a larger-than-life life. She was surrounded by family, friends and beautiful flowers. We sang her favorite songs and told our favorite stories. She was laid to rest amidst rolling hills, grand trees and a perfect sense of peace.
In tribute to this life well lived and loved, and in honor of all grandmas everywhere, I raise my glass and my heart in gratitude.
Thank you for ice packs and boo kisses.
Thank you for extra frosting.
Thank you for horsey rides.
Thank you for toys and tea parties.
Thank you for saving our letters and artwork.
Thank you for being the extra cheerleader on the sideline and the extra seat at graduation.
Thank you for zoo days and movie nights.
Thank you for sleepovers and negotiable bedtimes.
Thank you for backyard adventures.
Thank you for being gentle.
Thank you for extra hugs and extra cookies.
Thank you for patty cakes and itsy bitsy spiders.
Thank you for holding our tiny hands, even when they weren’t so tiny anymore.
Thank you for teaching us how to be elegant.
Thank you for uniting cousins.
Thank you for desserts for dinner.
Thank you for not being afraid to be silly.
Thank you for taking all of those pictures.
Thank you for praising our successes and encouraging our dreams.
Thank you for loving us even when we weren’t so lovable.
Thank you for your devotion.
Thank you for extra loud renditions of Happy Birthday.
Thank you for reminding us of our roots.
Thank you for boasting.
Thank you for helping us learn new things, like how to bake.
Thank you for helping us learn important things, like how to be kind.
Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for reminding us that unconditional love makes a family.
Thank you for helping us put on our capes.
Thank you for believing in our brilliance.
KID
Monday Mantra #49
To My Genies
I have three little boys. I ask for a lot of favors.
I ask for help with rides to and from school, practices and parties.
When friends go to the grocery store and call to see if I need anything, I say yes.
I quietly refrain from offering to host festivities or dinners or really anything at my house anytime, ever.
When I go out with more than one friend, I don’t volunteer to drive because I’m unwilling to wrestle and ratchet the car seats in and out of my car to make room.
Going places with any combination of my kids is tough and generally involves crying, darting and grabbing anything within arms’ length. And I’m crying, darting and grabbing too. Not so lovely. Not so fun.
And having people over at my house with any combination of my kids at home (and where else would they be?) is tough and generally involves crying, darting and grabbing anything within arms’ length. And I’m crying, darting and gabbing too. Not so lovely. Not so fun.
Maybe if I had a guesthouse or a tree house or even a tent where we could hide from the kids, I could host a holiday party. But I don’t, so I don’t.
And please don’t even get me started on the car seats. I’ve lost more than a fair share of blood, sweat, tears and fingernails over them. They are locked, loaded and not going anywhere until I know they are gone for good.
I have three little boys. I ask for a lot of favors.
But fortunately, for me, I have wonderful, generous and loving people in my life willing to do those favors. I have the friends who host the parties, carpool my kids and offer to drive to sushi. I have the friends who babysit and buy me groceries.
In fact, after our twins were born, I have a friend who, on several occasions, picked up my big kid after preschool, fed, bathed, pajama-ed, and returned him home five minutes before bedtime.
I have a friend who baby-proofed my house.
I have a friend who took my big kid out to lunch with her sons.
I have a friend who handed me up her kids’ clothes, gear and toys and saved our Christmas a few times over.
I have friends who loan me everything from Band-Aids to oregano so that I can avoid another trip to the store.
And these lovely favor givers never ask, nor expect me to settle up. They don’t count the marbles in their jars or the tallies on their sheets. They just do it out of the kindness of their hearts—those wonderful, generous and loving hearts.
So to my friends, my offerors, my heavy lifters, and the genies in my lamp, I say thanks.
Thank you for stepping in and stepping up and for never, ever keeping score. Thank you for all that you do and for not asking for anything in return.
Thank you for understanding that I might not ever be able to pay you back.
But I do promise you one thing.
I will return the favor someday to someone else.
One day I’ll be on the other side of this frenzy. My kids won’t be so unmanageable, my house will have some space and calm, and the car seats will be gone. And then the hosting and the rides and the grocery runs won’t seem so ill-fated.
When that time comes, when it’s my turn, I promise I will be a genie too. I will make the offers and I will give the rides. I will do the favors and I won’t keep score or expect anything in return.
When my time comes, surely there will be another frazzled mom who needs a helping hand. And I will be the one to step up.
But I won’t do it for her.
I’ll do it for you.
KID
A letter of thanks to my faithful
Dear Readers,
I want to take an opportunity to thank you for sticking with this blog for the past two years.
When I started this journey I really didn’t know where it would go. I knew I wanted to document some memories and communicate with family and friends about our adventure as a fivesome. But this blog has evolved into something much more. It has become a haven for me, a great perspective check and a source of authentic joy in some less than joyful days.
I know my statements and stories run the gamut, but I’ve discovered that I find the most meaning and inspiration in the little things and often the littlest of people. Those little nuggets remind me about what is important and what is so very good in life. And I wanted my blog design to better reflect this chorus and umbrella these themes.
So here you have it.
I hope you will continue to support me in this endeavor. There are few greater compliments to me than if you tell me that my words affect you in some way. Please add your comments on the site or reach out to me directly. I welcome all feedback, as this evolution business has no end date.
I want to personally recognize Ted Danielson (my bouncing wall), Lindsay Lumpkin (who knows all things commas AND conjunctions) and Nancy Intagliata (for her unconditional love of my writing and everything else). And a heartfelt thanks to my three little nuggets for all of the inspiration and material they provide.
With gratitude,
KID
