One afternoon, Ty and I began discussing the prominent dimple on his left cheek.  He asked, "Why doesn't everyone have a dimple like me?  I explained that God gives each of us something that makes us special—unique from everyone else.  Just then Wil popped into the bathroom and asked, "What special gift did God give me, Mommy?"  I thought to myself, YOU, Wil—are the gift, but I knew he was looking for something he could see or touch. So, I pointed to the freckles across his nose and explained that God had placed each one there with his own hand.  His face lit up as he peered into the mirror, examining each and every brown dot. As my sons stood there, tracing their faces with their fingers, I looked at them and smiled.  My gifts from God sweetly smiled back. 

Dear Ty,

Today you began kindergarten.  As I watched your little legs hesitantly reach up for that first step of your big, yellow school bus, I was hit with a gamut of emotion.  I knew this rite of passage for you—and milestone for all who love you—would be difficult, but it hit me harder than expected.  All at once I realized that you were on your way; that those little wings we'd been clipping and grooming for you over the past five years were about to flutter on their own for the very first time.  As daddy and I, your grandparents and your preschool teachers stood on the sidewalk—waving good-bye; cheering you on; crying all the while—I knew this bittersweet moment marked the end of your babyhood and the begining of you going out into the big, bad world.

Yes, I knew you'd be back in my arms in three short hours, but between the moment I let go of your hand until the time you plunged back into my arms, it was as if our hearts beat as one. I could think of nothing but you.  What were you doing...thinking...saying?  Were you scared...nervous...hungry?  Did your teacher realize that you were without a doubt the most amazing kid he'd ever have the privilege of teaching?  Were the other kids being nice?  Did someone show you where the bathroom was?  My "mother bear" was on high-alert, but alas I let my "cub" roam freely about the forest. 

Knowing that today is only the first of many days that I'll have to let you go, shakes me to my core, but such is the point of parenting.  As your mother, it is my job to raise you, then release you—into a world that I will never think is good enough for you.

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." [Elizabeth Stone]

So, since I can not shield you from every difficult experience or unkind person, let me remind you that mommy and daddy will always be your soft place to land.  Always.  Whether it's kindergarten or college, mischief or misdemeanor, love lost or love found—we will be waiting for you with open arms and open minds.  

I love you, Ty.  Set the world on fire with your passion.  Be strong.  Dream big.  Love deep.  Have faith.  Never Settle.  Be happy.  YOU, my little man, ARE amazing!

Love,
Mommy

Since Riley's death earlier this summer, the question I'm most often asked is "How is Jake?" And since June, my answer has been, "He's still looking for him." Jake would spend the better part of every night in search of Riley. Upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside...it was exhausting for those of us letting him in and out—especially at 3:00 in the morning, but we obliged because we understood his pain. His loss was our loss. Only difference was that we couldn't explain to Jake where Riley had gone. Why his brother had suddenly disappeared from his world. So, this morning when Jake passed somewhat unexpectedly, our only solace was in thinking that perhaps he finally understood where Riley had gone; because he was there too and they were together again.

As most of you know, Jake suffered from a heart tumor. We knew he wouldn't live the duration of his years, but losing him just two months after Riley has been extremely difficult. Jake had a baby face, so it was hard to think of him as old. To us, he always looked like a puppy and acted like one too. And, after recently dropping 30 pounds, he seemed to be at the top of his game. Unfortunately, this weekend his breathing became labored and his kidneys began to shut down. At 4 A.M. the situation seemed dire, so John rushed him to the emergency animal clinic in Poughkeepsie. While they were running tests, John left for a bit to shower and regroup. At 7 A.M. they called to say that Jake had less than an hour and we should return. We grabbed the kids and made it there just in time to see Jake take his last breaths.

We have spent the day reminiscing about bringing Jake home in December of 2001 and all that happened after. We laughed about how Riley started out entirely offended by this rambunctious brindle puppy and ended up being his best friend and protector. How, the boys used Jake as a stool to sit on while they colored at the coffee table. How, Jake would greet us at the top of steps every single day with a gift. The gift was anything he could find on the fly (i.e. water bottle, tennis ball, matchbox car, dirty sock, etc.) that would fit in his mouth. He'd follow you around with that day's gift until you gratefully took it out of his mouth. We recalled how listening to Jake breathe from across the room was as comforting as a lullaby.

It's hard to believe that we are a dogless family for the first time in 10 years! No dog beds to trip over, no slobber on the walls, no fur balls under the beds, no half-eaten treats underfoot...the house has never felt emptier.

Goodnight, Riley & Jake. We are hopeful that you are lying side by side in heaven tonight. Our home and hearts will never be the same. Sleep well and know that we love you always!

This photo captures everything I love about Wil...his sparkling blues eyes; his porcelain skin; his rosy cheeks, his thoughtful mind and above all; his gentle nature. Oh how I love this boy!

Sadly, we had to lay Riley to rest this morning. He had been slowing down for months, but simply unraveled over the last five days. Aside from not eating or drinking or even being able to stand, he was just not himself. Early this morning, we all said our weepy good byes and then placed him in the truck. This is a picture of the boys petting Riley for the last time. Before leaving for school, they explained to him a bit about heaven and who would take care of him there. Hope Great Grandma wanted a dog!

At Hudson Highlands, Dr. Spacarelli met us at the car and took great care to walk us through our difficult decision. He and the entire staff have always been extremely compassionate to our family, but this morning, when it couldn't have counted more, they showed us the greatest of comfort, assurance and understanding. We spent sometime alone with Riley, saying our final good byes.  When it was time, John and I wrapped our arms around Riley until he passed. It was deeply sad.

We left the vet heartbroken and have spent the morning crying and remembering, but taking great solace in the wonderful life that we provided for Riley and the unconditional love he showed all of us. Riley was my first dog. I credit him with teaching me many things about life, here are just a few examples...

To be a mom...Yup, this pup gave me the A to Zs on motherhood long before Ty and Wil came into our lives! From cleaning up "accidents" to midnight feedings to baths—Riley taught me how to care for someone who can't care for themselves.

To be more laid back...In the early days, I would literally follow Riley around with a dishrag over my shoulder, wiping the long strings of drool that hung from his jowls. I was determined to keep the house tidy even with a slobbering, shedding dog amongst us. After a few years of that insanity, I finally gave up or should I say, gave in. Riley taught this Type-A girl the beauty of a lived-in house.

To sleep on 6 inches of mattress...Fine, we admit it! Riley (our once 180 lbs English Mastiff) slept between John and I for the first two years of us his life! Sure, it was ridiculously uncomfortable; and we went through 5 or 6 comforters; and our sheets were embarrassingly dirty, but we wouldn't have had it any other way. For me and John, listening to Riley breathe was hypnotic. Rest assured, Riley eventually got moved into his own room (yes, really) and further downgraded to a 6 foot dog bed (unfair, I know) once the kids came along.

To take joy in another's comfort...Nothing made us happier than to see Riley rolling around in the sunshine in our backyard or running after a ball at the park with his jowls flapping in the wind! As with all dogs, his happiness came from the simple things. Guess, the only difference with Riley is that due to his seemingly endless health issues (bad hips and knees and multiple surgeries), we were grateful for the healthy, happy days in between.

I could go on, but then you might stop reading, so I'll end with this...Riley was a gentle old soul from the day he was born till the day he died. We thank all of you who loved and appreciated him. He was a good dog indeed.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers at this difficult time.

Angela

Today was my sixth time celebrating Mother's Day as a Mom and I have to admit I'm still not entirely comfortable with the idea. Maybe it's all those years of honoring my own mother on this day; knowing the size shoes she wore and the fact that I'll never fill such a tremendous pair. Or maybe it's the way I came to motherhood (through adoption) and the fact that being a mom feels more like a privilege than something I should be honored for.

Who knows?

I suppose someday I'll feel like I've earned my maternal wings and sit back and gladly accept the accolades associated with this day, but for now I think I'll just propose a slight adjustment to it's name. So, to all the moms out there that I know and love, I'd like to wish you all a very happy HAPPY just to be a MOM DAY! When you kiss your little ones good night this evening, I hope you'll thank them for the opportunity to hold one of the most privileged positions in the world!

“No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother's love.” —Edwin Chapin

Nothing seems to say hero to a little boy more than those who work in dangerous, dirty or demanding jobs! My boys rarely excite at the thought of playing lawyer, doctor or accountant, but they delight at the opportunity to be firemen, construction workers, soldiers and garbage men. These working class heroes represent what it means to be a man in the eyes of a little boy. Maybe it's the lure of using their bodies in addition to their minds, or the idea of wearing a special uniform, or maybe it's quite simply the big trucks! Whatever it is, it comes as no surprise that for the last few years (and probably for a few years to come) my boys want these superheroes at the center of their special days.

For Ty's 5th birthday it was the classic fireman, but for Wil's 4th he decided on  something a bit less traditional and asked that the garbage man pay us a special visit!

Check out the pictures here!

What more is there to say?

Hard to believe that Ty just turned five, but here's the proof! Of course, he still has the same big brown eyes, same delicious dimple and same vibrant smile. Same infectious laugh, pitiful pout and steaming temper.  And best of all, the same wonderful sense of humor. He may be young, but Ty has already carved out his niche in our family—the role of entertainer.  Ty knows how to make people laugh; especially those closest to him.  Whether he's telling a story or a joke, acting out a favorite movie scene, break-dancing or belting out a song—Ty knows how to bring a smile to our faces. 

Ty will be starting school this September and I can almost hear the teacher calling to ask for our first parent-teacher conference.  Class clown, perhaps?  Come what may, he's the apple of our eye and we couldn't be more proud of our triple threat!

Thank you, Ty, for making me belly laugh every day. You are pure joy and I love you!  Happy birthday!

For more pictures of Ty's fifth year celebrations click here!