There is nothing quite like the adventure of potty-training child #3 to test your patience, increase your laundry duties, and humble you. I would've thought I'd be a pro at this by now, able to dispense advice to other moms in the trenches of potty-traning their first.
Wrong-o!
I thought she #3 would be the easiest since she has two big sisters she can observe, is uber-verbal, and to be perfectly honest, because I am tired of buying diapers. Since numero uno was born, there has been a total of 16 months of being diaper-free. I have now officially been a mother for 112 months. I never wanted to have more than one kid in diapers at a time, and somehow, that all worked out in my favor. But as I sit here and add the numbers up, perhaps it would've been better that way, because this diaper phase wouldn't be so long and drawn out.
I anxiously awaited the moment that Jacey turned two, because then she could get on that potty, and we could be on our way to being a diaper-free home! Oh, silly me. Two-and-a-half came, the age at which her sisters showed the signs of being ready to potty train, and I got excited again. Once again, a fool I was. However, once we decided to take a vacation which involved driving to S. Carolina and then Disney World, we figured it would be in our best interest to not have a freshly potty-trained kid who would make that drive even longer. When vacation ended and her third birthday a month away, we decided to buckle down and get this kid in underwear permanently!
This Saturday was her first full-fledged day in underwear, and besides a couple minor accidents, it was a great potty-training day!
Yesterday, a lot more accidents, a lot more laundry, but it's just the beginning.
Today, as we both were at work, my mother-in-law had a great first two hours, and then it went downhill from there. Several pairs of underwear and two bottoms later... then once we got home, she still managed to pee in her closet. Sigh. But the bright side to that tale of potty-training woe is that we have hardwood floors. At the rate she's going, they are all going to be getting a thorough cleaning in the next few days... or weeks.
But I can see the light at the end of this diaper tunnel!
Monday, June 1, 2015
Monday, August 4, 2014
I Have to Feed You Too?
Apparently, when you have children, they need to eat.
Let me rephrase that. They need to eat you out of house and home. After all, they're not paying for the groceries, and the food is just there, so they must do their job and eat it. Then you have to go to the grocery store for the fifth time this week, and the vicious cycle starts all over again.
Mostly, the ravishing appetites come from the snack monster: "Can I have a snack?" (asked by Kelsey just this morning, five minutes after breakfast), "Is it time for a bedtime snack?" or the ever-irritating, "I'm hunnngrrryyy!" When these questions are met with a "No, you just had breakfast/lunch/dinner; it's too close to breakfast/lunch/dinner; it's too late," then the whining ensues as if you've purposely withheld food from them all day and they will absolutely keel over at that moment if they can't have a graham cracker/pretzels/piece of candy (which never qualifies as a fulfilling snack, yet they assure me that will be enough to get them through. Ha.).
I know when I was younger, my family coined me as "Heather Hungry". I was a bottomless pit of sorts, a skin and bones, ribs-peeking-through kind of bottomless pit. I'm not sure how my parents managed to keep me fed and satisfied, and I know it got worse in high school. I can remember coming home from school, devouring an apple, a plate of Triscuits with melted cheese, string cheese and a granola bar. I fear for the teenage years in this house, not because I have all girls, but because they will all need to eat. A lot.
I try to make sure they eat their fruits and veggies, so once a grocery trip is made, I'm chock full of fresh fruits and carrot sticks, and so when they are hunnngrrryyy, I can offer those healthy choices. I can feel like a pretty decent mom. And as blueberries are nature's laxative, I can feel pretty spectacular that everyone is regular. After all, consistent pooping makes the mom's world go 'round.
But then you get to days like today. I've just come off working three evenings in a row. The bananas Jake picked up at Walmart two days ago are just a distant memory. Grocery shopping won't happen until later this evening. In search of a fruit to have with lunch, I had a flash of memory: dark chocolate yogurt-covered raisins. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Only in this house will you hear "Finish your peanut butter and fluff sandwich or you won't get any dark chocolate yogurt-covered raisins!"
Yup. That's how we roll. Just keeping it real.
Let me rephrase that. They need to eat you out of house and home. After all, they're not paying for the groceries, and the food is just there, so they must do their job and eat it. Then you have to go to the grocery store for the fifth time this week, and the vicious cycle starts all over again.
Mostly, the ravishing appetites come from the snack monster: "Can I have a snack?" (asked by Kelsey just this morning, five minutes after breakfast), "Is it time for a bedtime snack?" or the ever-irritating, "I'm hunnngrrryyy!" When these questions are met with a "No, you just had breakfast/lunch/dinner; it's too close to breakfast/lunch/dinner; it's too late," then the whining ensues as if you've purposely withheld food from them all day and they will absolutely keel over at that moment if they can't have a graham cracker/pretzels/piece of candy (which never qualifies as a fulfilling snack, yet they assure me that will be enough to get them through. Ha.).
I know when I was younger, my family coined me as "Heather Hungry". I was a bottomless pit of sorts, a skin and bones, ribs-peeking-through kind of bottomless pit. I'm not sure how my parents managed to keep me fed and satisfied, and I know it got worse in high school. I can remember coming home from school, devouring an apple, a plate of Triscuits with melted cheese, string cheese and a granola bar. I fear for the teenage years in this house, not because I have all girls, but because they will all need to eat. A lot.
I try to make sure they eat their fruits and veggies, so once a grocery trip is made, I'm chock full of fresh fruits and carrot sticks, and so when they are hunnngrrryyy, I can offer those healthy choices. I can feel like a pretty decent mom. And as blueberries are nature's laxative, I can feel pretty spectacular that everyone is regular. After all, consistent pooping makes the mom's world go 'round.
But then you get to days like today. I've just come off working three evenings in a row. The bananas Jake picked up at Walmart two days ago are just a distant memory. Grocery shopping won't happen until later this evening. In search of a fruit to have with lunch, I had a flash of memory: dark chocolate yogurt-covered raisins. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Only in this house will you hear "Finish your peanut butter and fluff sandwich or you won't get any dark chocolate yogurt-covered raisins!"
Yup. That's how we roll. Just keeping it real.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Countless Ways to Tell the Story...
I don't want to begin this by tritely saying, "It's hard to believe it's been 18 years..."
But it's the plain and simple truth.
From that first moment that I learned about the crash of TWA Flight 800 and the impact it had on my home community of Montoursville, PA, and until this very day, it still seems so surreal. It still seems like yesterday. And yes, it's hard to believe 18 years have passed since that fateful Wednesday evening of July 17, 1996.
In 18 years, I can tell the story a new way every time. Whether it's relaying it verbally or written, random memories can spark at different times, and it can change the way I tell it. It can be about the friends I lost, or what the summer was like prior to that night, or what the school year was like afterwards, or what life has been like in the past 18 years since the tragedy.
Once again, it's a new story this year. Lately, as I've reflected on Flight 800, it's the little details that have surfaced and have once again reminded me how huge an ordeal it really was. To this day, the shock can still hit that I lived through such a terrible event as a teenager, and so much comes flooding back...
It's in the memory of the enormous headline of our local newspaper on July 18 that screamed, "AGONY IN MONTOURSVILLE".
It's the card on one of the many bouquets displayed in our high school lobby that read, "I don't know you, nor do you don't know me. All I can say is, I love you."
It's the young girl who wrote a letter and donated her baby-sitting money to our memorial fund rather than spending it on herself.
It's the drum head signed by Aerosmith that was on display during the school year. (I thought that was pretty cool.)
It's the endless bouquets of flowers, teddy bears and angels that were sent to our school.
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It's the letters from families and friends of those affected by the Oklahoma City bombing reaching out to share in our sorrow.
It's the roll of paper hanging throughout the hallway of the lobby where we could write messages to our loved ones. (I used this opportunity to pen yearbook messages that I would not be writing in my friends' books that year.)
It's the night of July 18 when a couple thousand of us gathered in our high school gymnasium while local clergy spoke and tried to give us some peace. The sadness of that night is still palpable to me.
It's the "God's Little Instruction Book for Graduates" that Monica (Weaver)'s parents gave to me for graduation, and the very first quote in the book read: "When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a manner that when you die, the world cries, and you rejoice." (Anonymous)
It's the days, months and years that have passed, and how people have still remembered Flight 800 when I say I'm from Montoursville.
It's the one-month memorial service when (the former) NYC mayor Rudy Giuliani came and spoke to us, stating, "For the people of New York City, to understand your encounter in some small way, it would be as if in one single time, in one single moment, in one single tragedy, in New York City thirty-five thousand people would need be affected. Every single person, all of us would feel the tragedy. And that's exactly what has happened here in Montoursville." (This haunted me on the morning of 9/11.)
It's the flashes of my own face, friends and classmates that I saw on national news and how it felt like we were all living in a nightmare.
It's the blue and gold ribbons on everyone's shirts, mailboxes, front doors, flag poles, everywhere. The flags flying at half-mast all over the state of Pennsylvania. It's the "Forever in our Hearts" stickers and buttons that now have taken on a new life as many of our facebook profile photos this time of year.
It's the signs of remembrance in windows of every business in Montoursville, and also many in the outlying communities. (There was no school rivalry at that time!)
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It's the endless tears, hugs, phone conversations, seeing our friends' parents so broken-hearted, yet reaching out to comfort us, the funerals and memorial services too numerous to bear...
While I'd not want to relive the days after the tragedy, there was something so beautiful in all of our grief, in all these memories that still stir up emotion, and it's what I remember the most...
The love.
But it's the plain and simple truth.
From that first moment that I learned about the crash of TWA Flight 800 and the impact it had on my home community of Montoursville, PA, and until this very day, it still seems so surreal. It still seems like yesterday. And yes, it's hard to believe 18 years have passed since that fateful Wednesday evening of July 17, 1996.
In 18 years, I can tell the story a new way every time. Whether it's relaying it verbally or written, random memories can spark at different times, and it can change the way I tell it. It can be about the friends I lost, or what the summer was like prior to that night, or what the school year was like afterwards, or what life has been like in the past 18 years since the tragedy.
Once again, it's a new story this year. Lately, as I've reflected on Flight 800, it's the little details that have surfaced and have once again reminded me how huge an ordeal it really was. To this day, the shock can still hit that I lived through such a terrible event as a teenager, and so much comes flooding back...
It's in the memory of the enormous headline of our local newspaper on July 18 that screamed, "AGONY IN MONTOURSVILLE".
It's the card on one of the many bouquets displayed in our high school lobby that read, "I don't know you, nor do you don't know me. All I can say is, I love you."
It's the young girl who wrote a letter and donated her baby-sitting money to our memorial fund rather than spending it on herself.
It's the drum head signed by Aerosmith that was on display during the school year. (I thought that was pretty cool.)
It's the endless bouquets of flowers, teddy bears and angels that were sent to our school.
It's the letters from families and friends of those affected by the Oklahoma City bombing reaching out to share in our sorrow.
It's the roll of paper hanging throughout the hallway of the lobby where we could write messages to our loved ones. (I used this opportunity to pen yearbook messages that I would not be writing in my friends' books that year.)
It's the night of July 18 when a couple thousand of us gathered in our high school gymnasium while local clergy spoke and tried to give us some peace. The sadness of that night is still palpable to me.
It's the "God's Little Instruction Book for Graduates" that Monica (Weaver)'s parents gave to me for graduation, and the very first quote in the book read: "When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a manner that when you die, the world cries, and you rejoice." (Anonymous)
It's the days, months and years that have passed, and how people have still remembered Flight 800 when I say I'm from Montoursville.
It's the one-month memorial service when (the former) NYC mayor Rudy Giuliani came and spoke to us, stating, "For the people of New York City, to understand your encounter in some small way, it would be as if in one single time, in one single moment, in one single tragedy, in New York City thirty-five thousand people would need be affected. Every single person, all of us would feel the tragedy. And that's exactly what has happened here in Montoursville." (This haunted me on the morning of 9/11.)
It's the flashes of my own face, friends and classmates that I saw on national news and how it felt like we were all living in a nightmare.
It's the blue and gold ribbons on everyone's shirts, mailboxes, front doors, flag poles, everywhere. The flags flying at half-mast all over the state of Pennsylvania. It's the "Forever in our Hearts" stickers and buttons that now have taken on a new life as many of our facebook profile photos this time of year.
It's the signs of remembrance in windows of every business in Montoursville, and also many in the outlying communities. (There was no school rivalry at that time!)
It's the endless tears, hugs, phone conversations, seeing our friends' parents so broken-hearted, yet reaching out to comfort us, the funerals and memorial services too numerous to bear...
While I'd not want to relive the days after the tragedy, there was something so beautiful in all of our grief, in all these memories that still stir up emotion, and it's what I remember the most...
The love.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
"I don't know how you do it all!"
This is a quote, coming from the mouths of many friends, family and acquaintances during the past year since I have ventured back to school. I'll admit, sometimes I can take it as a compliment that I can give the outward appearance that I can do it all. However, I know the truth, and I must quickly dispel the myth that I am supermom (hence the name of this blog!) and retort with, "I can assure you that I don't do it all WELL."
Yes, we made the decision for me to go back to school to pursue pharmacy school prerequisites. Yes, we knew it wouldn't be easy. But now that I'm a year into it, my only regret is that I didn't start sooner! It's something I thought about over the years but was either scared off by the classes I'd have to take or just by thinking "it's too late for me!" Now that I'm on the other side, I can see that Calculus wasn't nearly as frightening as I expected. Trying to add that to three kids and a husband and a part-time job though, and it's a trial and error situation.
What I've learned in the past year (aside from the academics) is that I don't have the best method figured out how to do all of this, and I kind of suck at time management. (I'm pretty sure Jake can vouch for that fact.) I've managed to make it to work and class on time, but as far as anything else goes, well, any hints would be great! I know I'm not the first mom of three kids to go back to school, but like raising children, there's no manual for this. Some days the kids watch waaaaay more TV so I can get homework done, and other days, I have Jacey pawing at my legs wanting "uppie!" Some days I can manage to keep a neat home, feed the kids and ace a test, and other days, well, I'm a hot mess. Jake has seen my tears (I had no clue that homework could turn on the water works for me), but through it all, he's my number one supporter. "You've got this," he says, even when I don't. And when I am upset about a C on a test, he reminds me, "You passed, right?"
Adding a job to this mix doesn't make it any easier. At this point though, I am more part-time than I've ever been, so I'm home more than I've ever been, and once I received my first tuition reimbursement check, it made it all worth it.
I won't lie and say it can't get lonely at times. Sure, I've connected with some of my classmates (which reminds me how I old I am; most of them were barely in preschool by the time I graduated high school!), and I've had some great professors who've been understanding to my life situation (telling them you have three kids and a job lets them know you're not fooling around and you will actually have legit reasons should you ever miss a class or test), but doing this sets me apart from my friends. There are times when I'm invited somewhere and can't go because of work or school, but there are also times that I'm home and I'll find out about something I didn't get invited to do. Or I've heard, "I forget that you're home more!" Let me say that it's always better to invite than assume. Sometimes I just need a social break!
Along with Jake, I have had an incredible support system. My parents, my in-laws, friends who've had Kelsey over to play while Jacey naps so I can study, those who have helped me study, and those who've prayed for my sanity... all you have done for us has been a huge blessing!
Through it all, I'm ready to continue tackling these pre-reqs. I have a timeline of what courses to complete when and when I want to apply to pharmacy school. However, I'm a realist. I have a husband, three kids and an older home that still needs some TLC. I know that I may not get there when I want, but it will be so worth it when I get there.
Yes, we made the decision for me to go back to school to pursue pharmacy school prerequisites. Yes, we knew it wouldn't be easy. But now that I'm a year into it, my only regret is that I didn't start sooner! It's something I thought about over the years but was either scared off by the classes I'd have to take or just by thinking "it's too late for me!" Now that I'm on the other side, I can see that Calculus wasn't nearly as frightening as I expected. Trying to add that to three kids and a husband and a part-time job though, and it's a trial and error situation.
What I've learned in the past year (aside from the academics) is that I don't have the best method figured out how to do all of this, and I kind of suck at time management. (I'm pretty sure Jake can vouch for that fact.) I've managed to make it to work and class on time, but as far as anything else goes, well, any hints would be great! I know I'm not the first mom of three kids to go back to school, but like raising children, there's no manual for this. Some days the kids watch waaaaay more TV so I can get homework done, and other days, I have Jacey pawing at my legs wanting "uppie!" Some days I can manage to keep a neat home, feed the kids and ace a test, and other days, well, I'm a hot mess. Jake has seen my tears (I had no clue that homework could turn on the water works for me), but through it all, he's my number one supporter. "You've got this," he says, even when I don't. And when I am upset about a C on a test, he reminds me, "You passed, right?"
Adding a job to this mix doesn't make it any easier. At this point though, I am more part-time than I've ever been, so I'm home more than I've ever been, and once I received my first tuition reimbursement check, it made it all worth it.
I won't lie and say it can't get lonely at times. Sure, I've connected with some of my classmates (which reminds me how I old I am; most of them were barely in preschool by the time I graduated high school!), and I've had some great professors who've been understanding to my life situation (telling them you have three kids and a job lets them know you're not fooling around and you will actually have legit reasons should you ever miss a class or test), but doing this sets me apart from my friends. There are times when I'm invited somewhere and can't go because of work or school, but there are also times that I'm home and I'll find out about something I didn't get invited to do. Or I've heard, "I forget that you're home more!" Let me say that it's always better to invite than assume. Sometimes I just need a social break!
Along with Jake, I have had an incredible support system. My parents, my in-laws, friends who've had Kelsey over to play while Jacey naps so I can study, those who have helped me study, and those who've prayed for my sanity... all you have done for us has been a huge blessing!
Through it all, I'm ready to continue tackling these pre-reqs. I have a timeline of what courses to complete when and when I want to apply to pharmacy school. However, I'm a realist. I have a husband, three kids and an older home that still needs some TLC. I know that I may not get there when I want, but it will be so worth it when I get there.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
An Unexpected Parent/Teacher Conference Moment
This morning at Averey's parent/teacher conference, we heard nice comments from her second grade teacher. It was also neat that Averey mostly lead the conference herself, sharing her reading, writing, and math goals for the year.
And then her teacher shared with us a story about her that was incredibly sweet and touching. She even said it was one of her favorite moments in all of her (23) years of teaching.
She proceeded to tell us that she is trying to build the reading community in Averey's class, asking students to recommend books to their classmates. She said that one day, Averey chose the book, "Now One Foot, Now the Other" by Tomie dePaola, for a friend of hers. This classmate's father had suffered a debilitating stroke last winter, and the book was about a boy whose grandfather had a stroke. Her teacher had long forgotten about this book on the shelf, but apparently Averey had read it awhile ago, and according to Averey, she thought it would help her classmates understand what was going on with the girl's father.
Their teacher read the story, and she said that Averey sat next to her friend while the book was shared. The book went home with the girl, and she shared it with her mom and sister. They proceeded to take the book to Pittsburgh where her father is in rehab, and shared the story with family there.
I could tell by the emotion in her voice that she was really affected by this moment, and Jake and I were definitely touched. I'm not a mushy emotional mom (i.e. I don't cry on the first day of school, I didn't cry when my children were born), but it wasn't easy to maintain composure hearing that story.
Averey had never told us about that. I wouldn't have expected that anyway. I often find myself praying that she (and her sisters) will have a spirit of compassion, and in spite of hearing, "I want that! Why can't I do this? When can I do that?", I saw that moment as an answer to prayer. While she is a loving, helping big sister, I was beyond touched that she extended such a thoughtful gesture to someone outside of her family.
So when she's fighting with Kelsey, when she's whining about the food on her dinner plate, when she's overly dramatic about minor injuries, I will remember this story and treasure it forever.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Remembering Friends
I've felt that over the past 17 years, when I talk about Flight 800, the story I share focuses on how our friends died, how I found out about the crash and what it was like to live through such a tragedy at 17.
But now that the incident occurred half a lifetime ago (for those of us that were 17 at the time), I want to shift my story about how my friends lived. Their memories are still so very vivid, and even those people that I only knew as acquaintances, I can still recall my interactions with them like they happened yesterday. It's incredible to me how the memory of someone who's passed seems to blossom in the shadow of their death.
On the night of Wednesday, July 17, 1996, I knew immediately that I had lost three friends: Cheryl Nibert, Kim Rogers, and Monica Weaver. By the morning, my grandmother called and asked if I knew Jessica Aikey, because she heard her name as one of the victims. Another pang of pain went through my heart, and how did I forget that Jess had been on that plane too?
As the days passed and we grieved for the losses and our hometown of Montoursville was the central focus of much of the Flight 800 coverage on the news, we would often talk about our friends, and in the midst of tears, we could laugh at the good times.
Even now, I still smile at the good times. Their voices and laughter continually echo. They will never be forgotten.
Cheryl was a year behind me and was a close friend of a mutual friend, Erin (who is still now one of my best friends, in part because of Flight 800). We were on track together that spring, and somehow her cheerful persuasion had me running the 100m hurdles with her at a meet (in spite of never practicing on them). That was a huge mistake as I stumbled over them and completely humiliated myself. I knew she felt bad, but I couldn't hold it against her. I went to her 16th birthday party, and I still have her thank-you card in which she thanked me for the birthday money as she would be using it for her Europe fund. She also made it her mission to get me and my boyfriend together, and her plan worked. I am grateful for the short time we had as friends.
Jess and I were in the same section in 7th and 8th grade, so we became friends during those years. I'm not sure why one of my memories of her has to do with her teeth, but after her braces were removed, she had a retainer with two false teeth on it, so she could slip it out with her tongue and freak people out. I just thought it was funny. We continued to have classes together in high school, and I still have a Christmas card from her where she addressed me as her "bathroom buddy." Somehow we always ended up in the bathroom together after lunch during our sophomore year, brushing our hair and retouching our make-up. I remember a fun summer get-together at her house. I remember a party at another friend's house after our sophomore year, and we decided to drive around because we could. Some of us piled in Jess's car, and at one point we thought it would be a great idea to do a Chinese fire drill. While Jess had her group of close-knit friends, she remained a constant in my life throughout high school. I took it for granted that she would always be there for conversation.
Kim and I were in the same 1st grade class, and it wasn't until 5th grade that we ended up in the same section. Kim was an only child, quiet, but a reliable friend. She was the first person I recognized as a "BFF", proclaiming it in our origami-folded notes we passed back and forth throughout our 6th grade year. She invited me to go with her to her grandparents' house one summer weekend up in Wellsboro. We (attempted) fishing in their pond, sitting on their roof, swinging in their barn, and gossiping about our classmates. We remained close through middle school as we were in the same sections all four years (and often sat next together as the alphabet would have it). She would occasionally come to my church as one of the older ladies, a neighbor of Kim's, claimed her as her "adopted granddaughter". We shared classes in high school, and played together on the AYSO soccer team our sophomore year. While we weren't as close in high school, we remained in the same group of friends (and pretty much sat next to each other in homeroom in high school), and I can still see her smile, her long brown hair, and I still recall the way she would roll her eyes when exasperated. I only wish I had seen her that summer before she was to leave on her trip.
Monica and I were also in the same 1st grade class. It wasn't until 4th grade that we became friends, and I still remember going to her birthday party. She was one of the youngest members of our class with her birthday falling on January 11, 1980. We lovingly teased her over the years since she was the "baby." We ended up in classes together throughout middle school, and I recalled some fun birthday sleepovers during those years. She and Kim were also BFFs, so a lot of memories of Monica in middle school also include Kim. It wasn't until we had Biology together freshman year that our friendship started to grow closer. We arranged a "Secret Santa" gift exchange between a few of our friends, and I hosted a little Christmas party at my house for the "revealing" of our Secrets. Being 1993 (and somewhat obsessed with making mixed tapes and recording people--for example, my cousins, brother and I invented a radio station and made a whole tape as that radio station), I turned on my cassette recorder, which seemed silly at the time, but now I have Monica's voice on tape (and for that reason I can't part with a cassette player).
During our junior year, we really started to bond. Between trying to harmonize when we sang the Gin Blossoms' "Follow You Down" and the "Friends" theme song, from going to country line dancing on Sunday nights at the Econo Lodge, to talking on the phone in the middle of the snowstorm that cancelled her 16th birthday party, to sitting next to each other in Cultures, whispering back and forth... there isn't much of my junior year that Monica was not a part. By the end of the year, she was settling into her first serious relationship with a college guy. He came to prom with her, and I was ecstatic for her. We had plans for me to come to her house and spend the night. I remember sitting in her living room with her parents at 11:30, waiting for her to return. Eventually, I got so tired I decided to go home. She and her boyfriend had decided to watch a movie after prom. I couldn't begrudge her for that... but in retrospect, I wish I had just stayed at her house and waited for her. We could've had such a fun sleepover together.
We saw each other a few times that summer. We were both in serious relationships, so we could share in each other's excitement. She came to my house and we kicked around on a raft in our pool. The weekend before her trip, I stopped by her place to show off my senior pictures. She had hers taken that week and was excited to see the results. We last saw each other on Monday, July 15. Monica got to drive us around for the first time. We laughed and talked about how much we would have to write in our yearbooks. On the morning of July 17, I called her to wish her well on her trip. Her words still ring in my ears: "If you hadn't called me, I would've called you, because I wouldn't have left without saying good-bye."
Senior year was not the same without her, and I felt sad about that quite often. But if anything, our friendship was sealed on a high note. I knew immediately after she died, that my first daughter's middle name would be Monica. Averey now asks about her middle namesake, knowing that she is Averey Monica is in honor of a friend of mine that died in a plane crash.
I often wonder where my friends would be today had they gone to France like so many other French Clubs across the nation did, and returned to tell the stories of their amazing adventure. How different would our senior year have been? Where would they have gone to college? Would they be married with kids? Would they be travelling the world? Would we still be friends?
But the questions just lead to sadness. Even 17 years later, thinking of their loss still strikes a chord. I can read my journals from that time, and it can still make me cry. I will never understand WHY, but I believe that God has brought good from this tragedy. A friendship that would have otherwise ended because of a tiff is still going strong today because we both lost dear friends in that crash. I can't let my loved ones leave without kisses and "I love yous". A cautious attitude towards life has followed me, but also an attitude of having no regrets trumps that. My husband and I would not be together if it weren't for that; I would not be going back to school if it weren't for that.
At the beginning of our senior year, our Economics teacher, Mr. King, wrote a letter to us in which he eloquently ended with the statement regarding our lost friends, "They would urge all of us to laugh more, learn more, live more, and to love more. Doing that affords us a view of them forever."
Living life today, I can say that truer words have not been spoken.
In loving memory of our friends
Class of '96 Dan Baszczewski Rance Hettler Jody Loudenslager Jacqueline Watson
Class of '97 Jessica Aikey Jordan Bower Amanda Karschner Kim Rogers
Monica Weaver Wendy Wolfson
Class of '98 Michelle Bohlin Monica Cox Cheryl Nibert Larissa Uzupis
Class of '99 Claire Gallagher Julia Grimm
Chaperones Deborah Dickey Douglas Dickey Carol Fry Judy Rupert
Eleanor Wolfson
But now that the incident occurred half a lifetime ago (for those of us that were 17 at the time), I want to shift my story about how my friends lived. Their memories are still so very vivid, and even those people that I only knew as acquaintances, I can still recall my interactions with them like they happened yesterday. It's incredible to me how the memory of someone who's passed seems to blossom in the shadow of their death.
On the night of Wednesday, July 17, 1996, I knew immediately that I had lost three friends: Cheryl Nibert, Kim Rogers, and Monica Weaver. By the morning, my grandmother called and asked if I knew Jessica Aikey, because she heard her name as one of the victims. Another pang of pain went through my heart, and how did I forget that Jess had been on that plane too?
As the days passed and we grieved for the losses and our hometown of Montoursville was the central focus of much of the Flight 800 coverage on the news, we would often talk about our friends, and in the midst of tears, we could laugh at the good times.
Even now, I still smile at the good times. Their voices and laughter continually echo. They will never be forgotten.
Cheryl was a year behind me and was a close friend of a mutual friend, Erin (who is still now one of my best friends, in part because of Flight 800). We were on track together that spring, and somehow her cheerful persuasion had me running the 100m hurdles with her at a meet (in spite of never practicing on them). That was a huge mistake as I stumbled over them and completely humiliated myself. I knew she felt bad, but I couldn't hold it against her. I went to her 16th birthday party, and I still have her thank-you card in which she thanked me for the birthday money as she would be using it for her Europe fund. She also made it her mission to get me and my boyfriend together, and her plan worked. I am grateful for the short time we had as friends.
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| Cheryl at Prom '96. This pose says it all! |
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| Last day of junior year--6/7/96 |
Kim and I were in the same 1st grade class, and it wasn't until 5th grade that we ended up in the same section. Kim was an only child, quiet, but a reliable friend. She was the first person I recognized as a "BFF", proclaiming it in our origami-folded notes we passed back and forth throughout our 6th grade year. She invited me to go with her to her grandparents' house one summer weekend up in Wellsboro. We (attempted) fishing in their pond, sitting on their roof, swinging in their barn, and gossiping about our classmates. We remained close through middle school as we were in the same sections all four years (and often sat next together as the alphabet would have it). She would occasionally come to my church as one of the older ladies, a neighbor of Kim's, claimed her as her "adopted granddaughter". We shared classes in high school, and played together on the AYSO soccer team our sophomore year. While we weren't as close in high school, we remained in the same group of friends (and pretty much sat next to each other in homeroom in high school), and I can still see her smile, her long brown hair, and I still recall the way she would roll her eyes when exasperated. I only wish I had seen her that summer before she was to leave on her trip.
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| Kim rocking a retro dress of her mom's at prom! |
Monica and I were also in the same 1st grade class. It wasn't until 4th grade that we became friends, and I still remember going to her birthday party. She was one of the youngest members of our class with her birthday falling on January 11, 1980. We lovingly teased her over the years since she was the "baby." We ended up in classes together throughout middle school, and I recalled some fun birthday sleepovers during those years. She and Kim were also BFFs, so a lot of memories of Monica in middle school also include Kim. It wasn't until we had Biology together freshman year that our friendship started to grow closer. We arranged a "Secret Santa" gift exchange between a few of our friends, and I hosted a little Christmas party at my house for the "revealing" of our Secrets. Being 1993 (and somewhat obsessed with making mixed tapes and recording people--for example, my cousins, brother and I invented a radio station and made a whole tape as that radio station), I turned on my cassette recorder, which seemed silly at the time, but now I have Monica's voice on tape (and for that reason I can't part with a cassette player).
During our junior year, we really started to bond. Between trying to harmonize when we sang the Gin Blossoms' "Follow You Down" and the "Friends" theme song, from going to country line dancing on Sunday nights at the Econo Lodge, to talking on the phone in the middle of the snowstorm that cancelled her 16th birthday party, to sitting next to each other in Cultures, whispering back and forth... there isn't much of my junior year that Monica was not a part. By the end of the year, she was settling into her first serious relationship with a college guy. He came to prom with her, and I was ecstatic for her. We had plans for me to come to her house and spend the night. I remember sitting in her living room with her parents at 11:30, waiting for her to return. Eventually, I got so tired I decided to go home. She and her boyfriend had decided to watch a movie after prom. I couldn't begrudge her for that... but in retrospect, I wish I had just stayed at her house and waited for her. We could've had such a fun sleepover together.
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| Last day of junior year... not sure about my face, but Monica looks great, as always. |
Senior year was not the same without her, and I felt sad about that quite often. But if anything, our friendship was sealed on a high note. I knew immediately after she died, that my first daughter's middle name would be Monica. Averey now asks about her middle namesake, knowing that she is Averey Monica is in honor of a friend of mine that died in a plane crash.
I often wonder where my friends would be today had they gone to France like so many other French Clubs across the nation did, and returned to tell the stories of their amazing adventure. How different would our senior year have been? Where would they have gone to college? Would they be married with kids? Would they be travelling the world? Would we still be friends?
But the questions just lead to sadness. Even 17 years later, thinking of their loss still strikes a chord. I can read my journals from that time, and it can still make me cry. I will never understand WHY, but I believe that God has brought good from this tragedy. A friendship that would have otherwise ended because of a tiff is still going strong today because we both lost dear friends in that crash. I can't let my loved ones leave without kisses and "I love yous". A cautious attitude towards life has followed me, but also an attitude of having no regrets trumps that. My husband and I would not be together if it weren't for that; I would not be going back to school if it weren't for that.
At the beginning of our senior year, our Economics teacher, Mr. King, wrote a letter to us in which he eloquently ended with the statement regarding our lost friends, "They would urge all of us to laugh more, learn more, live more, and to love more. Doing that affords us a view of them forever."
Living life today, I can say that truer words have not been spoken.
In loving memory of our friends
Class of '96 Dan Baszczewski Rance Hettler Jody Loudenslager Jacqueline Watson
Class of '97 Jessica Aikey Jordan Bower Amanda Karschner Kim Rogers
Monica Weaver Wendy Wolfson
Class of '98 Michelle Bohlin Monica Cox Cheryl Nibert Larissa Uzupis
Class of '99 Claire Gallagher Julia Grimm
Chaperones Deborah Dickey Douglas Dickey Carol Fry Judy Rupert
Eleanor Wolfson
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Jacey Turns One... Say Whaaat???
I can hardly believe I have a ONE-YEAR-OLD today!
(I can hardly believe it's been over six weeks since I posted my last entry!)
While I have plenty of inspiration swirling around me, I've just not put the fingers to the keyboard. Alas, I'm sure the three little girls that provoke entries in my head also prevent the entries from making it to the computer.
Now that I've been a mother of three girls for a year now, perhaps I can dispense wise advice about having three children... but as I am still in the learning process (and fully expect this to be a learn-on-the-job experience for the rest of my life), what I've learned most is to not let those precious moments with your last baby pass you by. Don't let the frustrating times with your stubborn 4-year-old get the best of you. Don't forget to share those joyous moments with your exuberant 7-year-old. (And let's not forget that the 4-year-old is also hilarious, so try and write down every funny thing she says!)
On a daily basis, I am still somewhat dumbfounded that I have three girls. Since both Jake and I grew up in two-kid households AND we each had a brother, we knew that when Jacey came along, we were treading in uncharted waters. Of course, strangers will freely give their opinions: "Good luck!" "Just wait until they're teenagers!" (To which I respond, "I was a good teenager, so there's always a chance they'll take after me!") and my personal favorite: "Are you gonna try for that boy?" (I STILL don't know how you "try" for a boy or girl!) My response is that I'm quite happy with three girls, and truthfully, I don't feel that I'm missing out by not having a boy.
And now, baby girl is one. I still vividly remember her longer-than-expected labor, the screaming and writhing in pain that probably scared some first-time mom down the hall, and the feeling right after she was born: joy. And she is the essence of joy; another sweet baby girl who sucks her thumb, who patiently waits while I tend to her sisters, who is the peacemaker for said sisters (all I have to do is show them Jacey when they're fighting, and they melt with, "Awww!"), who gives silly grins and is now exploring everything (including electrical outlets--yikes!), who I swear says, "HEATHER!" when she sees me (kind of sounds like a combo of my name and "Hi-yah!"), and who reminds me of both Averey and Kelsey as babies. She is the piece that completes our family.
It may be chaotic and crazy, and I am not sure how we manage to get out of the house in one piece most days, but while I feared the prospect of three children one year ago, I cannot imagine it any other way now.
(I can hardly believe it's been over six weeks since I posted my last entry!)
While I have plenty of inspiration swirling around me, I've just not put the fingers to the keyboard. Alas, I'm sure the three little girls that provoke entries in my head also prevent the entries from making it to the computer.
Now that I've been a mother of three girls for a year now, perhaps I can dispense wise advice about having three children... but as I am still in the learning process (and fully expect this to be a learn-on-the-job experience for the rest of my life), what I've learned most is to not let those precious moments with your last baby pass you by. Don't let the frustrating times with your stubborn 4-year-old get the best of you. Don't forget to share those joyous moments with your exuberant 7-year-old. (And let's not forget that the 4-year-old is also hilarious, so try and write down every funny thing she says!)
On a daily basis, I am still somewhat dumbfounded that I have three girls. Since both Jake and I grew up in two-kid households AND we each had a brother, we knew that when Jacey came along, we were treading in uncharted waters. Of course, strangers will freely give their opinions: "Good luck!" "Just wait until they're teenagers!" (To which I respond, "I was a good teenager, so there's always a chance they'll take after me!") and my personal favorite: "Are you gonna try for that boy?" (I STILL don't know how you "try" for a boy or girl!) My response is that I'm quite happy with three girls, and truthfully, I don't feel that I'm missing out by not having a boy.
And now, baby girl is one. I still vividly remember her longer-than-expected labor, the screaming and writhing in pain that probably scared some first-time mom down the hall, and the feeling right after she was born: joy. And she is the essence of joy; another sweet baby girl who sucks her thumb, who patiently waits while I tend to her sisters, who is the peacemaker for said sisters (all I have to do is show them Jacey when they're fighting, and they melt with, "Awww!"), who gives silly grins and is now exploring everything (including electrical outlets--yikes!), who I swear says, "HEATHER!" when she sees me (kind of sounds like a combo of my name and "Hi-yah!"), and who reminds me of both Averey and Kelsey as babies. She is the piece that completes our family.
It may be chaotic and crazy, and I am not sure how we manage to get out of the house in one piece most days, but while I feared the prospect of three children one year ago, I cannot imagine it any other way now.
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