93rd Birthday

Two beautiful, ridiculous peas in a pod. 

The night before it all happened I vowed to call the doctor in the morning and find out what was wrong with Lily. I secretly prayed it would all go away. All of it. And I could go back to doing whatever it was I did before she was diagnosed.

Lily had been vomiting and holding her head to one side. The pediatrician declared it a bladder infection. But if it was her bladder, why was she so weak? Why wouldn't it stop?

Mike said it was like she couldn't even crawl anymore.

That day, May 16, we found ourselves at CHOP, in the ER.  I should have known that things were really, really bad when they told us not to feed Lily anymore--in case (in case of what? I was too naive to ask). And then when the three doctors rounded the corner as a unified team--I knew. I knew what the news was--I had been googling her symptoms.

A mass, a mass, there was a mass in her brain. A brain tumor. A fucking brain tumor.

And this was all before I called my Dad, my best friend, to wish him Happy Birthday. He was turning 87.

Lily was just 14 months old.

It is a funny thing to me--the believer in all things good and godly and Christ-like that my beloved daughter would be given a life-threatening diagnosis on the day we celebrate the life of my beloved father.

My Dad was the first person I called. He cried. I promised him I would pray, right at that moment on my knees, social norms be-damned. I promised to pray with every breath until I had no more breath.

It was his birthday gift, I suppose, my devotion to the God my Dad loved.

It was the only year, since I could speak, that I did not wish my Dad  a Happy Birthday.

That day, May 16, 2007--was the beginning of the end for my Dad and the beginning of the beginning for Lily. As Lily got better--as she beat the brain tumor--my Dad began the slow decline into old age. She saved and rebuilt her brain as my father's brain slowly unhinged and broke into bits.

I often wonder if my Dad bargained away his life for Lily's--I wonder if one can even do that--ask God to make a trade. Or if Lily's brain tumor aged him as it aged me--swiftly and without grace--and I have more time left on my clock; he had less on his.

Or if was simply a coincidence that his own mortality became apparent at the same time his infant granddaughter's was hanging in the balance. If it was just time and age and the rhythm of life here on earth.

I'll never know.

Lily and my Dad, their lives are forever intertwined and tangled in a way that is permanent. His birthday is her real birthday in so many ways. It is the day we found out what was hunting her life. It is the day we began to save her life and restore her to health.

It is the day--today--that I can finally say Happy Birthday, Dad. He would have been 93. And Happy Birthday, Lily, she will be 93, someday.

That is something I know.

The new FastAction™ Fold Click Connect™ Jogger from Graco (for all occasions!)

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of Graco.

I do love a good stroller.

As the mom of three kids ranging in age from 7 years old to 4 months old, I have gone through many, many strollers.  The truth I've discovered is that strollers are like handbags:

You need one for every occasion and your stroller should always match your shoes.

I was given the opportunity to test and review the new FastAction™ Fold Click Connect™ Jogger from Graco, the perfect accessory for a day spent in the park, walking to school or tooling around town.  

Last week, a bunch of us Mommas got together at the Smith Memorial Playground in Fairmount Park for a playdate and to give our strollers a whirl. We were treated to a Stroller Strides workout, with some fabulous instructors from Stroller Strides Cherry Hill.  (I am still limping after the squats!)

The FastAction™ Fold Click Connect™ Jogger is fantastic. It offers a smooth, safe ride while I am exercising, whether in the grass or on pavement. I am totally see using the stroller on the beach this summer--the front wheel looks in place, making rough terrain like sand or field easy to maneuver. I can also see myself pushing the stroller through the city streets or at the airport (it folds so fast and smoothly without drama).

Once folded, the stroller has its own kickstand, so you can store without it falling all over the place. The tires are air filled--so you can adjust tire pressure for the smoothest ride possible. There are also reflectors on the tires, perfect for Fall afternoon runs when the sun goes down early.

 It is sleek, stylish and looks great with my sneakers and just as adorable with my heels.

And speaking of heels, the FastAction™ Fold Click Connect™ Jogger stands taller than most other
joggers on the market.  I am 5'9" and stooping over while pushing a baby and jogging is the last thing I want to do.

The stroller has a 3 or 5-point convertible harness and all Graco Click Connect products (we love our Graco Click Connect Snug Ride 40) can snap right into the seat--so if the baby is asleep, you don't have to wake them up to transfer them before you head off on your adventure. If you do strap your little one directly into the stroller, the seat reclines.

Storage is also generous AND there is a smartphone holder in the cup console (brilliant!).


Graco’s NEW jogger is the ultimate crossover stroller, combining all the comfort and convenience features of a traditional stroller (FastAction Fold and Click Connect Technology) with performance and maneuverability of an all-terrain jogger.

As an added bonus, Graco’s innovative one-second, one-hand FastAction™ fold automatically locks & is self-standing.

This post is sponsored by the Graco.

InnoTab 2 Baby or How I Keep the Natives Busy

I have three very energetic children.

Even the 4-month old defies nature by remaining awake for hours.

Keeping my kiddos busy, happy and learning is a full time job--and I am always happy to find fabulous products that appeal to all three age levels. After all, space and money are always in short supply. And, of course, everyone wants to play with something electronic (the little guy has started batting for my iPhone).

That is why I am so excited about VTech's InnoTab 2 Baby, a tablet designed for ages 12 months through 9 years old. It is designed to grow with your child and comes pre-loaded with baby friendly software and in a fantastic protective case that will endure the toddler, preschool and school-age years with ease.

I got my hands on an InnoTab 2 Baby at the Big Toy Book's Babypalooza earlier this month. Since it entered my home, everyone wants it at all times. My 7-year-old loves the e-reader and entering birthdays, parties, soccer games and other social engagements into the calendar.  My four year old adores the art studio app. My 4 month old loves listening to the nursery rhymes and music.

All three (with my 7-year old leading the pack) had a blast with the rotating camera and video recorder--taking pictures and dancing to the sing-along nursery rhymes. There are seemingly endless downloads through VTech's app store, the Learning Lodge (including eBooks starting at $2.99). All eBooks include interactive features like a Story Dictionary, which includes vocabulary words from the book. I love the reinforcement of literacy, sight words and reading skills.

I found the InnoTab 2 Baby to be very user friendly. My children had no problem jumping right in. The screen sensitivity is ideal for young and not-always-accurate hands. The apps are straight forward and frustration-free.

I love that my children can be entertained and educated.

The InnoTab is powered by four AA batteries or using a 9-volt power adaptor. MRSP is $89 and it is available at retailers nationwide.

Note: I received a VTech InnoTab 2 Baby to review. All opinions and reviews are my own. 

B is for Block. W is for Whatever.

Cheeky. 

Anyway, I have writer's block or whatever. 

It is the kind of block that has me wanting to do the following things:

1. Do laundry

2. Vacuum under the couch

3. Apply for random jobs (because the 45 I have are not sufficient)

4. Drink craft beer

5. Paint rooms

6. Exercise obsessively like I have a disorder

7. Make my own baby food

8. Watch Brady Bunch Marathons

Photo bomb!

9. Talk on the phone to anyone who is available

10. Trim everyone's toe nails (just family members and the dog; not the toe nails of strangers)

11. Close down Yoke forever and go work at the Gap.

We went to Paris!

12. Force Nicholas to play Photo Booth with me for hours. And hours. 

I hate feeling this way. It is like a giant rock is blocking my thoughts and I cannot get them out. I feel empty and bloated, all at the same time. It is a despicable feeling. It is giving me an identity crises. It is a phase, I think. Perhaps the sign that I am avoiding writing something that is very deep and meaningful. Or that I am on the cusp of a breakthrough and maybe, just maybe, my missing identity will be found again soon.

But for now, I am off to organize the recycling by size, material and color; right after I apply to Graduate School for accounting.

Jesusy: The Book Update

I've been writing bits and pieces of a book for years. It is my story--my motherhood--my life. And it all feels more than a bit egotistical.

What do I know, anyway?

#JESUSY

It turns out I know nothing and somethings and everything and just things. But I was avoiding one thing in my writing: Jesus.

Because I feared that Jesus might make my book unpopular with the non-Jesus set. And I enjoy being popular. (don't tell.)

But, clearly this popularity thing is not important and is most definitely a sin of my GIGANTIC ego and really, who reads my blog anyway? It is not like I am wildly popular.

And avoiding Christ and all things Jesusy was making my writing a lie--a fabrication; because as a friend pointed out:

There is no way I can tell my story without God and Christ and a dose of the Holy Spirit. 

Now I find myself writing less about me and more about Him. And in Him, my story is living on and His story is alive and well too.  It is precarious because I am constantly worried I might say something blasphemous.  I ask a lot of questions and intend on driving religious personnel crazy. I teeter on the edge of being one of those crazies on a street corner shouting about God and Jesus and Heaven and Hell. I fear I might alienate those in my life who are not Christians; but at the same time pray they will understand how my faith and myself are inseparable. And how the person they loved--was always this Jesusy, Bible banging, God loving, Jesus Saves kinda girl.

Hospitality.

My minister often urges us to show kindness to those we avoid. And every time I hear him urge us to approach the unapproachable, to friend the friendless, to speak those which we'd rather go away, I think of this woman on my street.

Let's call her K.

K has been a hot mess in the past couple years. She may have been addicted to something or in the midst of mental illness or simply a disaster. K is a mother. K lives with her parents and her two children.

Last year, I saw this young mother whisked away on an ambulance, twice. And each time, I prayed for her--her son is Lily's age.

Despite all the mess, she always swings by Lily's lemonade stand--puts a small donation in and says "God Bless You." and moves on. She's left Christmas cards in my mailbox.

And I've completely ignored her; despite my minister's advice, despite my husband with the sweet midwestern heart, and despite that voice in my head that told me to stop being such a snob.

After all, the Bible tells us over and over again to love thy neighbor, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked and to always show hospitality to strangers.

Hebrews 13:2 says:

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."

I finally spoke to her last week. And I liked her. I thought, hey, maybe she is an angel. 

So, today, when she knocked on my door, I was all high in my Christian goodness. "Look at me! I am answering the door to this person I avoided! I am living the Good Word!"

And then she asked me for money. 

Money. My stranger neighbor asked me for cash. For a prescription. Or something. Apparently they were low on food. But she needed cash, like "a twenty," she said. 

Like I am an ATM machine. 


It is hard to be a Christian, when your neighbor is a hot mess.

I did not want to give her a dime. I wanted to shove her out the door. But, instead, I invited her in (out of shock, I suppose), gave her two frozen chicken breasts and a taco kit.

She responded: "Yeah, can I still have the cash?"

I gave her $8 and told her if she ever needed food, I'd have it. But $8 was it--I know her type, I think. My half-sister is her type--always hustling for cash--always with the sob story--always with the excuse. I know her type from my Temple U days-- asking for money for a cheeseburger; but never actually wanting the cheeseburger.

Or maybe, maybe she knows my type--the one who desperately wants to do good, but can't always quiet figure out to do it. The one who never answers the door.

It really burns me--to be asked for something I feel obliged to give; but don't want to give. It inflames me that my kindness was repaid with a request for cash.

But, kindness is not something that should be repaid. And that is the difficulty in it all--the hard part about following the good word--it often defies logic.

I don't want her to knock again. But, if she does, I'll have the frozen chicken ready, because who knows, maybe my hot mess is an angel.

Prayer for Boston.

In the wake of the Boston tragedy,  I feel I don't have the words for my prayers. Nothing feels like enough.

I can pray that no children die--but it is too late. One is already dead.

I can pray that no else dies--but it is too late two more are dead.

I can pray for the dead--but it is the living I fear for it.

I can pray that this never happens again--but that seems impossible. I've prayed for that before.

I can pray that this never happens to my family--but that seems deeply selfish.

I can pray for swift justice and the apprehension of the person responsible for this horrific act--but that will only stop them from doing it again; they've already done it.

The seal has been broken on evil; and oh Lord, how do we close it? How do we make it stop? How do we make it safe? How do I protect my children? How do I protect those I love?

There must be the right words; a prayer code to crack; something specific I should say.

Lord, tell me what to pray for--tell me how to do it--give me the words to ask; so that I shall find the answers in your light.

And Lord, don't let the darkness win, ever.