The Answer to the Question - "How Can I Help?"

Imagine for a moment that:

• your husband has brain cancer
• it is aggressive and there is nothing to do but make his last days comfortable
• in order to care for him you have to quit your job
• quitting your job means losing your health insurance
• your husband has no life insurance 
• that government programs designed to help the disabled most likely won't kick until after your husband dies
• you need financial help but don't know how to ask.

Then imagine for a moment you have a friend who you've know since the 6th grade who has no problem asking on your behalf.

I am the friend with no problem asking.  And my friend Randi needs the help.

As Randi devotes her time to making her husband comfortable as he makes the transition from this life to the life of spirit, she must also figure out how to survive financially.

And everyone who knows her wants to know "How can I help?"  The answer - make a donation.
If you don't know her - and are so moved to help -  make a donation. 

All donations accepted with gratitude and with love

It is easy - just click the button below.  No amount is too small.

My thanks and love to you all -
Tee

From Elmo toThomas to Hormones - Oh My!

Today, I am the mother of a teenage boy.  I am both excited and terrified and also very, very weepy.

Thirteen years ago, my life was turned upside down when after nine months, fifty-pounds (damn Kraft Macaroni and Cheese) and 19 hours of labor, Larry said to me "Oh Baby! He's here!" 

Connor Ethan Lawrence entered the world - all 8lbs 2oz of him - on March 15th, 1999.  Larry got to hold Connor first, then they cleaned him up and after a few moments, I was handed a baby and instantly became someone's mother.


And he was gorgeous.  I fell totally in love. 

After everyone had gone home for the night and it was me and him alone in the hospital, I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that Larry and I were responsible for raising this brand new baby into a kind, loving, productive member of society.  Honestly, I wasn't sure I was even those things so how the hell was I gonna be that example for someone else.  I got out of the hospital bed and picked Connor up from the baby box (they called it a bassinet but really people - it was more like a shopping cart) and tucked him into bed with me.  And I stared at him all night. 

And then someone hit the fast forward button.  We came home from the hospital and began to experience and document every milestone (we spent a small fortune developing film).  Larry and I were constantly (and still are) amazed at the fact that this wonder was the product of the two of us. 

Since March 15, 1999, we have watched this wonder move through the Elmo phase, the Matchbox phase, the Thomas the Tank Engine phase, the Rescue Hero phase, the Pirate phase, the Star Wars phase, and into the Gamer phase.  What will be next?

The last few weeks I have been terribly weepy and nostalgic - missing my baby.  Yet, I am also very excited to see the person he is becoming and to watch him navigate the waters of young adulthood. 

Happy 13th Birthday to the reason I am a mother, the person who took us from a couple to a family and to my inspiration to be a better person. 

What a lucky mom I am.

Sleepless in the Big Easy

I turned 45 last week.  And I am a big believer in the phrases - "age ain't nothing but a number" and "you're only as old as you feel."  Most days I am not even aware of how old I am - but something happened recently that made me feel old. 

I have been in New Orleans for the past three days.  This is my first visit to the city and my hotel is right in the heart of the French Quarter  at the corner of Bourbon and Bienville.  You just can't get any more in the middle of it all.

 

After I checked into my hotel on Sunday, I went out for a quick stroll and then off for a meal.  After dinner, things were already heating up in the French Quarter.  People were spilling out of bars, music from one establishment was competing against music from another.  Booze was flowing.  It was everything I had ever imagined about New Orleans.

And then I went back to my room to settle in and prep for work on Monday morning.  The noise level seemed to be going way past any measurable level.  I figured - "Hey, it's to be expected, I am in the middle of the French Quarter.  Laissez les bons temps rouler."  I finished my prep work for the next day and watched a little TV and then got ready for bed around 11:30.  As I was winding down, New Orleans was winding up.

Random loud screams came from men and women on the street below my window.  Competing musical styles emanated from the multiple bars along the block.  A steady, loud hum of conversation came through the floor from the wine bar just below my room.  Stumbling, sloppy drunks trooped up and down the halls - lost - looking for their rooms.  I lay in my bed, earplugs in, and a pillow over my head.  It's cool.  I can roll with this.

And then I couldn't. 

At 2:00am I got up, walked to the front desk and said, "I thought I could do it.  I thought I could handle the noise.  But, I can't.  I'm an old lady.  I need my beauty sleep.  Please move me to another room."  I was nice about it.  I did not lose my temper.  But I needed a new room - stat.  The hotel accommodated my request and I moved to a room that was one floor up and a little further from Bourbon Street.  It was still not quiet but it was quieter.  Finally, the bars closed and I was able to fall asleep at 5:00am.

Only to be awakened by the street sanitizing trucks at 5:30am.  (Note:  Do not wear open-toed shoes, sandals or flip-flops on the streets of the French Quarter after 5:00pm.  Whatever you think about when you hear the phrase street sanitizing - you're correct.)

Finally at 7:00am on Monday morning, I gave up the idea of sleep, got up, and went to work. 

Wait.  I was put out by noise?  Annoyed by the whooping it up of the people on the street below?  How could that be?  If this was 25 years ago, I would have been one of the loud, stumbling drunks keeping some 45-year old lady awake. 

And in that moment, I felt very, very old. 

Peace.
Tee