Last night, at 11:30pm, I received the call that parents of teenagers dread. - "Mom, we've been in a car accident. Everyone is fine. We are on Wootton Parkway near Lakewood. Can you come get us?" Connor was riding home from the MoCo Fair with some friends and the mother of one of the young men when the accident happened.
I picked up my keys, tossed a sweatshirt over my pajamas and headed out the door. I only had a five minute drive and I was proud of myself for staying calm.
As I approached the crash site - I saw the car on the wrong side of the road, facing the wrong direction, the windshield shattered on the passenger side, the passenger side tire and front quarter panel completely wrecked. I thought as I pulled up - how can they be okay?
The first things out of my mouth - "Are you all okay? Who hit their head on the windshield?" And then I counted heads. Five young people and one adult. In a Toyota Camry.
Luckily, there were no serious injuries. No one hit their head on the windshield. The police came. And the parent who was
driving explained that she had lost control of the car and hit a
concrete bus stop and its accompanying sign.
I gathered up four of the five boys and drove them back to our neighborhood. Once in the car, I asked for more details. And then I told them that in the future - they are NEVER to get into a car unless there is a seat belt for everyone. I made them understand that there were too many people in the car and that if it flipped over when she lost control - the accident would have been much worse. I told Connor that if I had known how many people she was driving home, I wouldn't have said he could ride home with them. (NOTE to SELF: Add that question to the already exhaustive list of questions, I ask.)
I told all of the boys - if you all are going to hang out with my son, I need your word, that you will NEVER do this again. That you will not get into a car without enough seat belts for everyone. That you will NEVER get into a car with a stranger, with someone who has been drinking or seems otherwise impaired, or in any case where you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. I told them that even if they can't reach their own parents, they are to stay put, call me, and no matter where they are I will come get them. And I said the offer is good even if you are not with Connor. They all have my cell phone number now.
Here is the irony. As I was driving Connor to the Fair to meet his friends, I told him what I expected - he was to call me and let me know that he connected with his friends, he was to call me when they were leaving, and he was to call me when they arrived home (he had planned to sleep over with one of the boys). I was also giving him other advice about being safe while on the fairgrounds. And the whole time he was blowing me off, or rolling his eyes, and telling me that I worry too much.
I said, "It's such a pain in the ass to have a mother who loves you so much."
He said, "Yes. It is."
But, when we were home after the accident, he expressed his gratitude for a mother who loves him so much and for knowing that I would move heaven and earth to get to him when he needed me.
And I would.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Friday, April 6, 2012
The Answer to the Question - "How Can I Help?"
Imagine for a moment that:
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
- 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.
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
Thursday, March 15, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
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
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
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Two Questions
I love to talk to people. Perhaps it's the television producer in me but when I meet someone new, I tend to want to find out as much about them as possible. When I was younger I wanted to be like Barbara Walters - she had conversations for a living. How cool! (although, last night's list of most interesting people of the year stopped after Eric Stonestreet and Jesse Tyler Ferguson. The Khardashians? Simon Cowell? Barbara, you might be going soft.)
Two of my favorite questions to ask people are:
What is your motto? and
What one person could come to your door and ask you to run away with them and you would?
I always say that my motto is "Life is too short to drink cheap booze". Most people laugh when I say that. And it is kind of silly. But if you look beyond the silliness, what I am trying to say is that Life is too short to (and you can fill in the blank). I believe every day is a gift and so many of us waste them in careers they hate, in marriages that are unhappy, in self loathing because they are (again fill in the blank), in giving away their power to someone else. The older I get, and the more it is proved to me in my own life, the more I realize that if you step out in faith - whether it be in God, the Universe, Yourself - your path to change will reveal itself. Stepping out in faith feels hard but life really is too short. And as things in my world shift and change, stepping out in faith is staring at me very intently. I sense a leap in my not-to-distant future.
As to who you would run away with - people are often shocked when I ask them that question.
"Run away?"
"Can I take my kids?"
"Can I take my husband/wife/partner?"
Ummm DUH - NO! That is the whole purpose of running away. The question is about stepping outside of your reality for a minute. It's about fantasizing. It's interesting to think about why you would choose that person. It's about fun. But a lot of people I talk to can't answer the question.
"I could NEVER leave my kids!"
"My life is perfect why would I want to run away?"
I ADORE my husband and kids but if a certain someone knocked at my door and said -"Run away with me." I would go.
The fun part is that you know it will never happen. Even more fun is to think about the reasons why you chose that person - are they deep and thoughtful? Shallow? Crazy? Or a combination?
And so you ask, who is my "chuck it all" person? I have always been able to answer the question without hesitation. If the doorbell rang and I opened the door and Bono was standing there - I would be gone.
What is your motto?
Who is your "chuck it all" person?
Peace.
Tee
Two of my favorite questions to ask people are:
What is your motto? and
What one person could come to your door and ask you to run away with them and you would?
I always say that my motto is "Life is too short to drink cheap booze". Most people laugh when I say that. And it is kind of silly. But if you look beyond the silliness, what I am trying to say is that Life is too short to (and you can fill in the blank). I believe every day is a gift and so many of us waste them in careers they hate, in marriages that are unhappy, in self loathing because they are (again fill in the blank), in giving away their power to someone else. The older I get, and the more it is proved to me in my own life, the more I realize that if you step out in faith - whether it be in God, the Universe, Yourself - your path to change will reveal itself. Stepping out in faith feels hard but life really is too short. And as things in my world shift and change, stepping out in faith is staring at me very intently. I sense a leap in my not-to-distant future.
As to who you would run away with - people are often shocked when I ask them that question.
"Run away?"
"Can I take my kids?"
"Can I take my husband/wife/partner?"
Ummm DUH - NO! That is the whole purpose of running away. The question is about stepping outside of your reality for a minute. It's about fantasizing. It's interesting to think about why you would choose that person. It's about fun. But a lot of people I talk to can't answer the question.
"I could NEVER leave my kids!"
"My life is perfect why would I want to run away?"
I ADORE my husband and kids but if a certain someone knocked at my door and said -"Run away with me." I would go.
The fun part is that you know it will never happen. Even more fun is to think about the reasons why you chose that person - are they deep and thoughtful? Shallow? Crazy? Or a combination?
And so you ask, who is my "chuck it all" person? I have always been able to answer the question without hesitation. If the doorbell rang and I opened the door and Bono was standing there - I would be gone.
What is your motto?
Who is your "chuck it all" person?
Peace.
Tee
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
I am just home from a weekend in the OBX with my girlfriends from high school. What can I say about the weekend. Here's a good place to start:
This past weekend I reconnected with 11 women with whom I have many shared memories. But these memories were old, dusty, and a little dim. Gradually, over the days we spent together, we blew the dust off of those memories, shined them up and experienced them all over again. Some were sad but most were terribly funny and even a little mortifying. These were the experiences of girls - relived by women.
Although visiting the 1980's again was fun, what was more important was what we shared as we reconnected.
Sitting in a circle on the beach, around the dinner table, draped over the sofas in the living room, we set about the business of learning about the women we had grown into from the girls we once were. We learned about strong marriages, the pain of divorce, the joys and frustrations of motherhood (we had 26 kids between us - and two furry kids), the loss of parents, balancing career and family, sharing dreams and challenges, and on and on.
We also did an amazing job of creating new memories - jello shooters (are you ever too old for jello shooters??), walks on the beach, cooking together, shopping trips, running together, swapping advice, dancing, playing games, and goofing off. Looking at the pictures from the weekend, my face hurts again from laughing so much. For a short few days, we shed the roles that define our everyday lives and slipped into a carefree, silly existence. GD-SOB - We were girls again!
There really is nothing quite like a strong, supportive network of women whose roots run deep. I count these amazing women among my life's greatest blessings.
I love my Rocker Chix!
Love,
Tee
This past weekend I reconnected with 11 women with whom I have many shared memories. But these memories were old, dusty, and a little dim. Gradually, over the days we spent together, we blew the dust off of those memories, shined them up and experienced them all over again. Some were sad but most were terribly funny and even a little mortifying. These were the experiences of girls - relived by women.
Although visiting the 1980's again was fun, what was more important was what we shared as we reconnected.
Sitting in a circle on the beach, around the dinner table, draped over the sofas in the living room, we set about the business of learning about the women we had grown into from the girls we once were. We learned about strong marriages, the pain of divorce, the joys and frustrations of motherhood (we had 26 kids between us - and two furry kids), the loss of parents, balancing career and family, sharing dreams and challenges, and on and on.
We also did an amazing job of creating new memories - jello shooters (are you ever too old for jello shooters??), walks on the beach, cooking together, shopping trips, running together, swapping advice, dancing, playing games, and goofing off. Looking at the pictures from the weekend, my face hurts again from laughing so much. For a short few days, we shed the roles that define our everyday lives and slipped into a carefree, silly existence. GD-SOB - We were girls again!
There really is nothing quite like a strong, supportive network of women whose roots run deep. I count these amazing women among my life's greatest blessings.
I love my Rocker Chix!
Tee
Monday, November 14, 2011
It's a Marathon - Not a Sprint
This past weekend, I completed the Outer Banks Flying Pirate Half Marathon. I have not ran or trained with any real commitment for at least three months. My life has been busy and I have let my running fall to the bottom of the priority list. I hate when that happens because running is so important to my physical and mental health.
My friend Robin was already registered for the Half and I was more than happy to be her cheering section. Robin said - "Do it with me." I thought about it and a little voice inside told me to go for it. So, I agreed to do the race with her.
Race day in the OBX was gorgeous. 60 degrees with a light breeze. It was a perfect day for a run. We started the run and I felt good for the first five miles - and then I began to feel the effects of not training. But I was enjoying the scenery and catching up with Robin so I pressed on. Soon we were at mile 9 and the "bridge". It seems that a lot of races look for the bridge that has a long, low, ass-whooping climb and sell that as the tough spot. This bridge lived up to the tough spot designation.
We made it to the top of the bridge and then I started feeling the effects of runner's tummy. I won't go into any descriptions of runner's tummy since most of you can imagine what a case of runner's tummy might look like. I was convinced that if I took another step, things would not be pretty. Robin is a personal trainer. And she is good at her job. She was trying to support me and help me move past the way I was feeling. Then I turned into a crazy person and told her to get me some help. And because she is a good friend and she loves me - off she ran.
I sank to my knees and then sat down on the bridge, ate a gel supplement and tried to settle my tummy. So many other runners stopped to help me - Runners are the BEST community of people. I am grateful to them.
While I was waiting for Robin, I started talking to myself - which I do a lot. I told myself - "Get off your ass and finish this race. Get out of your head. This is about finishing what you start. You are not a quitter." After about five or so minutes, I stood up and started walking off the bridge. I ran into Robin who was coming back for me and told her that my quitting was not an option. So off we went. Once we made it off of the bridge, there was only 2.1 miles to go. I could not give up. Robin ran ahead to finish faster. And I pressed on.
This has been the year of reminding myself of all that is possible; of all that can be accomplished with the right attitude. It started in January with the Penguin Plunge and has manifested in ways both big and small throughout the year.
Step by step - running and walking the last two miles - I finished the Outer Banks Flying Pirate Half Marathon.
Life and everything about it, really is a marathon and not a sprint - and it's worth every single step.
My friend Robin was already registered for the Half and I was more than happy to be her cheering section. Robin said - "Do it with me." I thought about it and a little voice inside told me to go for it. So, I agreed to do the race with her.
Race day in the OBX was gorgeous. 60 degrees with a light breeze. It was a perfect day for a run. We started the run and I felt good for the first five miles - and then I began to feel the effects of not training. But I was enjoying the scenery and catching up with Robin so I pressed on. Soon we were at mile 9 and the "bridge". It seems that a lot of races look for the bridge that has a long, low, ass-whooping climb and sell that as the tough spot. This bridge lived up to the tough spot designation.
We made it to the top of the bridge and then I started feeling the effects of runner's tummy. I won't go into any descriptions of runner's tummy since most of you can imagine what a case of runner's tummy might look like. I was convinced that if I took another step, things would not be pretty. Robin is a personal trainer. And she is good at her job. She was trying to support me and help me move past the way I was feeling. Then I turned into a crazy person and told her to get me some help. And because she is a good friend and she loves me - off she ran.
I sank to my knees and then sat down on the bridge, ate a gel supplement and tried to settle my tummy. So many other runners stopped to help me - Runners are the BEST community of people. I am grateful to them.
While I was waiting for Robin, I started talking to myself - which I do a lot. I told myself - "Get off your ass and finish this race. Get out of your head. This is about finishing what you start. You are not a quitter." After about five or so minutes, I stood up and started walking off the bridge. I ran into Robin who was coming back for me and told her that my quitting was not an option. So off we went. Once we made it off of the bridge, there was only 2.1 miles to go. I could not give up. Robin ran ahead to finish faster. And I pressed on.
This has been the year of reminding myself of all that is possible; of all that can be accomplished with the right attitude. It started in January with the Penguin Plunge and has manifested in ways both big and small throughout the year.
Step by step - running and walking the last two miles - I finished the Outer Banks Flying Pirate Half Marathon.
Life and everything about it, really is a marathon and not a sprint - and it's worth every single step.
 |
| Robin and Me celebrating our OBX Flying Pirate Half Marathon Finish |
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