Adventure Mom

Happy Birthday, Sean Fifty-Eight is Great Cedar Point, around 1997 Sorry for another Sean post. Not sorry - it’s just Father’s Day and Sean’s birthday fall within the same week. Another reminder of who we don’t have. Last I checked, Sean was still de ad. Wish it weren’t so. Today in America would’ve been his 58th birthday. I used to love this day, because it's also often the summer solstice - the longest day of the year - in the Northern Hemisphere.   We’ve spent 3,437 days so far without Sean. When someone has an out-of-order death, i.e., dies way before their natural life expectancy, we miss not only their past selves, but their future selves, too. I mourned the passing of my 96- year-old grandfather around Christmas last year as the end of an era. He had outlived his wife and lived long enough to see a teenaged great-grandchild. Fiona turned six-years-old four days after Sean’s death. I still remember her Hannah Montana cake. Finley w...

The Call to Laughter I’m working to re-train my brain there is no such thing as a bad year. Or a good year. It’s convention, this time thing. The idea we’ll peel a year or a month off the calendar. This year bad. Next year good. Rubbish. My old way of thinking would suggest 2019 will be a shitty year as I wrestle with transitions, like the kind I endured while laboring before my two children were born. The life changes I’m embarking on would top anyone’s list of Most Stressful. I won’t elaborate right now, because I’m not ready. So, back to transition - I’m wrestling a few that remind me of that painful period before giving birth. The first time, I withstood an excruciating epidural minutes before emergency surgery (Fiona); the second time, I was drug-free while pushing a human - a baby with hand on head - from a small space (Finley). Both transitions required the ability to withstand temporary suffering and delivered a beautiful result. This time, ...