Compassion

The purpose of human life is to serve and to show compassion and the will to help others

-Albert Schweitzer

How does one create a sense of charitable kindness in children?  How can kids appreciate what they have without ever experiencing those that have not?  In today's world I believe it is much more challenging.  It is not, however, impossible.

There is a fantastic organization geared towards mentoring children called Kids Korps.  They are a service organization with a mission to develop leaders via volunteerism.  A child may participate in as many or as few activities as they wish.  These activities open up their "world."


Years ago, the first activity we chose to attend was a collaborative effort to stuff thousands of bags with items used for children  rescued from abusive or neglectful homes--terrible situations.  According to the law enforcement officials present that day, these kids often don't have more than the shirts on their backs when they are rescued and removed from their homes.  A community effort stuffed toiletries, coloring books/crayons, homemade blankets, books, stuffed animals and other essentials.  Grant asked many "but why?" questions that day. It was a quintessential day in teaching compassion to my son.  I could not stop tearing up as I thought about each bag and each child.

Other activities of importance were feeding senior citizens, serving meals to the homeless and planting trees in impoverished neighborhoods





Thanks to the opportunities via Kids Korps my hope is for Grant to maintain a lifelong desire of service to others and compassion for those less fortunate.

Viva Mexico!

There is something exhilarating about crossing the border and heading into Mexico.  Perhaps it is the sense of adventure being in a foreign country.  Once we hit the road in Tijuana with aggressive drivers and what feels like a road-race, we know the adventure has begun.

I was introduced to Mexico (Tijuana) as a child when my dad would take us on expeditions to Caliente racetrack.  He loved bartering with the street vendors on the way back to the border crossing.  I have vivid memories of his threats (jokingly) to turn me in to the border agents/federales as an illegal because I looked Hispanic as a child with dark skin and long braids.

When the kids were small we found a great location to continue the adventures in Mexico.  Estero Beach Mexico is a hidden little gem on the Pacific about thirty minutes south of Ensenada.  This annual trip was something the kids looked forward to during summer break.  Our friends, who also made the trip, felt more at ease with me as the interpreter since I spoke the language.  Always handy to speak Spanish while in Mexico.


For Grant and the other kids, the highlights were going to the local fireworks store and stocking up on every imaginable explosive to set off on the beach--blowing up old tennis shoes or old Seasame Street stuffed animals,  eating at the favorite taco stand (which I refused to do),  throwing "poppers" on the ground and at siblings' feet, hanging out at the swim-up bar for virgin Margaritas, the live band and dancing at the outdoor restaurant, jet-skiing and getting pulled on the banana boat (pictured above), and haggling with the vendors on the beach and in town.


Photo above of Grant (rear), Jamie, Daniel, Yuso, Samantha and Hannah out on their wild banana boat ride in Estero Beach

Stubborn vs. Persistent

I guess the old English proverb "the apple does not fall far from the tree" holds true.  Reflecting back, my dad was quite the stubborn one.  This trait served him well in some aspects of life (though I'm sure it drove others crazy).  He did not give up, overcame many obstacles as a child and, after a long haul, was professionally successful in a difficult field.  This trait was woven into my DNA, and then inherited by my son.

Looking at the definitions of stubborn and persistent--their root appears the same but the interpretation (one positive and one negative) is different.  
Stubborn: unreasonably obstinate; fixed or set in purpose or opinion.
Persistent: persevering; enduring tenacity.

On the one hand, any parent would agree that a stubborn child can be a source of gray hairs.  On the other hand, this child may become a persistent adult and persistence definitely has perks in life.


Even today, I am amazed by my son's persistence (I never liked negative labels on kids).  Pop pop would be smiling were he here.  If it is something of personal importance or value, Grant simply will not give up.  Despite my many well-earned gray hairs, I truly adore this trait and hope it serves him well in life.  

Photo above of my dad aka Pop pop doing what he loved.

Tradition

Creating family traditions makes wonderful memories.  This topic is sung in one of my all-time favorite films--Fiddler on the Roof.  As Tevye explains, without Tradition, "their lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on a roof."



We have four interfaith families who have grown to love and share the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah.  Since our children were small, we would alternate houses each year, have the traditional foods and feast, exchange gifts, and of course, partake in the candle lighting ceremony.  This was the kids favorite part.  Each family would bring their menorah and depending who was up for it, one or more of the kids would say the blessing as the candles were lit.

My friends and I have had favorite family recipes passed down from our parents' generation and we will pass these on to our children.  For the first time this year, Grant and Daniel will make the potato latkes.  Making latkes is a time-consuming and arduous process but soooo worth it.   I have complete confidence in our chefs.


All of the children in the photo above are lucky to have reaped the benefit of the traditional Garrity, Ross, McDonald, Weinberger Hanukkah celebrations.

Cotillion

Mr. Benjamin's Cotillion was a right of passage in the sixth grade.  At least in our town, all of the children we knew attended.  Bottom line--social graces and etiquette would be  reinforced by someone other than the parents.  Yes!  Cotillion was not given as an option but as a mandate by all parents in Tierrasanta. 

The children met in the middle school auditorium once a week.  There was an equal number of boys and girls.  There was a dress code.  You can imagine a room full of budding adolescents having to dance and actually touch each other, practice properly introducing each other and listening to Mr. Benjamin and his chaperones discuss table manners.  They learned the box-step and other dances appropriate for formal social functions.  Yes, toes were stepped on often.  And remember, at this age all of the girls towered over the boys.

The parents were allowed to be in the auditorium but had to stay seated on the sidelines and not talk.  I will never forget the hidden smiles and snickers from each and every parent as they watched their child advancing the skill set.  Each week did get a little easier and less awkward for the kids and by the end, all were quite comfortable and having fun.  The class ended with a formal dance for the parents and children to show off their polished social graces.  I LOVED Mr. Benjamin.  He was one of a kind. 

Photo above of Grant (right) and buddy Daniel (left) with Grant not looking too chipper in one of the first classes. 

Block Parties

When the kids were small my neighbor and I had a brilliant idea.  Instead of traipsing down by the ocean or bay to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July and fight the crowds and traffic, we would organize a block party and invite the entire street.  The tradition was born.

With the help of some neighbors who had access to the police-type barricades and willing friends and families, our annual Fourth of July block party was a hit each and every year.  Barbecues were hauled out, tons of food was made/shared and a day of activities made for some great memories.

My co-chair and I planned the fun with a bicycle decorating contest and parade, a water balloon toss (that always turned into a gnarly water balloon fight), and the all-time favorite event; the pie eating contest.  We lined up our tables in the center of the street and each child had to bring a cream-type pie for entrance.  With their hands behind their backs and the "On your marks, get set, GO" the kids would delve into their pies face-first in an attempt to win first prize.  

We always had cool prizes for the winners (and of course goody-bags so nobody cried for the losers).  You can only imagine what happened after the winner was announced with all of those unfinished pies lying in wait.  Pie eating quickly turned into pie throwing and with the video cameras rolling, came the most hysterical pie throwing fight you can imagine.  We had twenty-plus children unrecognizable due to pie-muck from head to toe.  Grant was always one of the first to start throwing.  A boy's heaven.  We always said we should submit these films to America's Funniest Home Videos show and could easily win the $10,000.  We only had  one near choking incident with a girl who brought an apple pie which was dangerous to eat at rapid speed!  It took the dads on the block quite some time to clean up the aftermath--but it was sure worth it.

Photo above of Grant (on table left) with his buddy Daniel in the moment.

Broken Bones

 

Boys break bones.   Active boys are particularly at risk for breaking bones.  Doctors across the country are noticing an increase in fractures and researchers suspect this increase may be related to calcium deficiencies.  I suspect it is a combination of boyhood and a mild calcium deficiency.

I had never broken a bone in my life, however, my son has had three broken bones (to date); one requiring surgical repair.  I am now calm to the experience and take it in stride.

The circumstances surrounding the broken bones are actually quite comical, in hindsight.  

First break--brother and sister fighting over seat in car leads to car door slam on thumb.

Second break--brother and sister riding two on one bike barefoot with crash into curb and subsequent toe break.

Third break--snowboarding down a course (without prior inspection of the course) led to a jump gone bad and broken wrist.  The bummer about this break was we were stranded on the mountain without any orthopedic services and had to wait until the next morning to drive to the ER back home.  It was a very long night.  The funniest memory was of Grant's rugby coach when he had to show up at practice with his cast.  Coach walked up, gave a look of disdain, muttered "dumb-ass" then simply turned around and walked away.  It was the beginning of the season and needless to say he wasn't happy.  Rugby coaches are tough.

My only hope is that we preserve what unbroken bones are left and can make it into adulthood without another trip to the ER.

Photo above of the first thumb break and cast.

  

Pyromania

There is something about boys and fire.  Perhaps it is the danger factor.  Or maybe it is simply an innate fascination.

Over the years I have heard many stories from friends who exhibited the same behaviors in their youth as my son.  "Yeah, when I was his age I blew up....."

According to the experts, some children and adolescents feel pleasure or gratification when setting fires or witnessing the consequences of fire.  In addition, these kids are also fascinated with matches, lighters and curious about their use and consequences.  Scary stuff for a mom.


The fascination was initially observed when we had to light candles (Grant would always volunteer for this),  start the campfire (Grant would always volunteer to be involved with this and continue stoking the fire), and on the Fourth of July with the occasional fireworks and M-80's.


The culmination of this risky behavior presented one day in our neighborhood.  Grant and a friend concocted a mix (with propellants and all)  that started a fire in the middle of the street (around the corner from our house).  A woman in a car actually drove over the fire as she rounded the corner.  The boys took off and the woman in the car found two of our neighbors chatting in the street.  She said, "Did you see any boys running away from here?"  My neighbors simply pointed towards our house and said, "Yes, and he lives right down there."  I love my neighbors.  We are community mothers.  A knock at our door with an irate woman ensued.


Fortunately, we live close to a fire station.  I was livid.  I marched my son up to the fire station and knocked on the door.  When the fireman opened the door I said, "My son just started a fire and I'd like to speak to your Captain."  All of the firefighters were great.  They took my son into the house and after telling my story with much angst, the Captain took Grant and sat him down in the rig out in the garage.  They were in there chatting for quite some time while I nervously waited.


When they were done, the Captain said he and Grant had a good talk and that he was referring him to mandatory classes at the Burn Institute of San Diego.  He would have to attend the classes on fire safety.  If he was ever caught setting a fire again, he said "It would be juvie." 


Fortunately, there never was another incident though my son still has the fascination and at any given opportunity will gladly partake in starting the fire in the fireplace, lighting the candles, or igniting fireworks.

Photo above of Grant and dad camping with a big fire, of course

Cousins

Gathering of the cousins is always entertaining. What started out with the original eight (around the same ages), is now twenty in total due to the populating younger families.  That is a lot of cousins!

Chaos and fun are two words I would use to describe our family get-togethers over holidays.  Each year became more chaotic with the new additions.  Grant loved being around so many of his boy cousins where they would run, play ball, fight and terrorize the girls and neighborhoods.  His sister certainly learned to "hold her own" with so many boys being boys.  The playing field eventually evened out as more females were born.


Some of the best and quite often funny memories I have of these gatherings include; tears over who found the infamous Golden Egg on Easter, fires started by unattended children (candles are dangerous),  the announcement of another pregnancy by my niece, spilled drinks and major grass stains on holiday dresses/clothing and, of course, kid's faces opening the Garrity envelopes on Christmas.

Photo above of cousins Jeremy, Matthew, Josh, Jeffrey, Samantha, Grant, Jacob and Kaylene at one of the many cousin gatherings.

The Great Outdoors

What better way to breathe fresh air, get dirty and play with worms?  Fishing.  Getting back to nature in the great outdoors was an integral part of Grant's youth.  He loved the sport of fishing whether it be from the dock,  on a boat at the lake, or along a river.

Often these fishing adventures were part of a camping trip.  Good friends of ours and their boys (also shown in photo above) enjoyed camping and we made many memorable trips together.  Samantha was right in there with "the boys" getting dirty and hooking the bait.  The biggest thrill for all of them (parents included) was when someone caught a fish.  There would be a lot of commotion, often some yelling,  occasional tears (when the big one got away) but always fun memories were made.

The majority of people who fish do so for the sheer enjoyment of the experience.  Though I went along for the ride (and fresh air), I wouldn't necessarily say it was "sheer enjoyment."  Worms on hooks--yuck!  Watching fish die--yuck!  Gutting fish--super yuck!  Yet, I am so glad to have had these experiences in the great outdoors with my son.

Photo above of Matthew, Grant, Samantha and Zack with the big one that didn't get away.

Mr. No Fear

Organized sports has been one of the most positive and influential factors in my son's life.  It has channeled an abundance of energy.  It has taught humility.  It has contributed to the personal growth of a little boy to a young man.

Grant was nicknamed Mr. No Fear because he would always throw himself into the sport of the day/season without fear.  There have been team sports including baseball, soccer, basketball and rugby.  Other sports have included karate, skateboarding, BMX biking, body surfing, snowboarding, wakeboarding, golf and anything else that involved speed and/or contact of some sort.  The rougher, the better. 

My son has been a catcher since Little League began.  As a mom, this is one of the scary positions to watch from the bleachers.  Players are running at full speed towards home plate to score with your baby in a defensive/protective stance in front of the plate.  Many gray hairs have sprouted because of this.  It was always particularly unnerving to watch your son get plowed over by another (larger) player who looked like a freight train on the loose!  Despite the dangers and some injuries along the way, he has always had a love of the game and has been blessed with several extraordinary coaches along the way.  

This position requires a comprehensive understanding of the games' strategies.  It is one of the most physically and mentally challenging positions.  Catching was the perfect match for a boy who likes action--Mr. No Fear.  It is the position he still plays to this day on his high school varsity team.


Photo above of Grant the catcher during one of his many Little League games.

Discipline and the Sensei

 

Teaching good old fashioned values like respect and self-discipline have become increasingly more difficult with our Generation Me.   Our children are watching TV shows that would make our parents' skin crawl.  When I walk into the room with the TV on and hear a rapid succession of "bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep" I always say, "Turn that crap off!"  God, do I sound like my dad.

Martial arts should be mandatory for all little boys.  It builds confidence, self-esteem, self-discipline, respect and concentration.  Not to mention the physical benefits.  Karate is the art of fighting without actually fighting--or starting a fight. Fortunately, a Taekwondo karate studio was right down the street and Sensei Carlos entered Grant's life.

Sensei Carlos demanded respect both in and outside his dojo.  I remember him pulling me aside after class one day.  In his broken English he said, "Betty, you tell me about Grant's grades and his school, okay?  I want to know what is going on all the time okay?  Even at home and how he treats his sister."

I was thrilled--I had an ally.

It only took once.  I told Sensei about an incident between Grant and his sister.  An argument gone bad.  Needless to say, Sensei Carlos let Grant have it with a long lecture followed by some physical "chores." After that reprimand all I had to say was, "I don't think Sensei Carlos would want to hear about this...." and the unruly behavior would stop immediately.

I do think karate contributed to improved self-discipline, concentration and the respect they promote.  I saw a difference with my own eyes.  It was also amazing to watch my little boy break a block of wood in half with his bare hands.  That was concentration.  I truly hope Grant will always remember his Sensei with great fondness, respect and gratitude. 

The photo above is of Sensei Carlos presenting Grant his green belt.

 

Two-Fingers

According to the American Dental Association, eighty-five to ninety-nine percent of children have finished sucking their thumb spontaneously by the age of four or five.  Babies and children use thumb-sucking as a method to put themselves back to sleep during the night, for comfort, or when tired or bored.  That is the good news.  The bad news is that fingers are attached to hands and hands cannot be thrown into a trashcan.  A tough habit to break.

We called Grant "two-fingers" for a long time.  From infancy, he sucked his two fingers on the left hand.  As a baby, it was so cute and practical.  No need to find the lost binky in the middle of the night.  No need to worry about a lost binky on a long car trip.  The benefits were great until it was discovered this habit could not be broken.  We tried wrapping the fingers with athletic tape (which was easily pulled off).  We tried putting Tabasco sauce on the fingers before bed (which was easily wiped off).  We even tried taping socks on his hands (easily pulled off).  How do you stop a habit that occurs at night when a child is asleep?  Teeth and jaw were affected.  It was also way past the age of spontaneous cessation.  The answer came from the orthodontist--an "apparatus" was required.  This did not sound good.

Jaws was James Bond's fictional assassin in the movies The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker.  Grant, too, now had a mouth of steel and we called him Jaws.  The metal appliance was literally attached to the upper palate and had prongs that came down from the roof of the mouth so that fingers could not be inserted into the mouth.  Now chewing--that was another story.  It took quite a while to learn how to chew and not do damage to his tongue and mouth.  Ouch is all I can say.   It was very painful to watch in the beginning but the good news was it worked!  The bad news was it had to be in place six months to make sure the habit was broken because braces followed to repair the damage done.  Best advice?  Stick with a binky if at all possible.

Photo above of Grant aka two-fingers hanging out in the backyard.

Where Do Babies Come From?

Having a highly inquisitive child can be a mixed blessing.   On the one hand I believe their inquiry is a gift.  On the other hand, it can be a real PIA.  Why is this?  Why is that?  The "whys" never stop.  It can be mentally exhausting as a parent.  I swore I would never say to my children, "Just because it is!"  Admittedly, this happened on more than one occasion.

The questions came at warp speed.  Why is the sky blue?  Why is my hair blond?  All was just great until THE question was asked one day in elementary school.  "Mom, where do babies come from?"

I thought this question was a bit premature given it was only third grade.  I hadn't planned on the "the talk" until later in elementary school but kids talk on the playground.  I decided to take the bull by the horn and answer the question directly, honestly and age-appropriate.  If I didn't, I would be hounded.  My philosophy with boys--blunt is best.


I did not, however, expect a phone call from Grant's third grade teacher after the "talk."  This is how it panned out.
"Mrs. Garrity, this is Ms. D and I need to speak with you about an incident regarding Grant."
I replied, "Is everything okay?"
Ms. D said, "Well, not really.  I overheard Grant explaining to his table where babies came from.  Although the information he gave was actually quite accurate and with correct terminology, it was not appropriate for school.  He was arguing with his classmate about who had the correct answer."
"Thank you Ms. D.  I'll have a talk with Grant today about appropriate classroom discussions."

I hung up the phone and burst into laughter!  My third grader was giving reproduction lessons to his classmates.  Unbelievable.  As the saying goes, out of the mouths of babes.

Soccer and Books

What does soccer have to do with books?  Everything.  My son was a sports enthusiast and has played organized sports since the age of five.  He loved soccer, baseball and basketball as a child.  Parents of these kids spend a lot of time at practices and games.  You get to know the other parents very well.  Many long-term friendships are formed on the field or court. 

One of my favorite past-times was  revitalized on the soccer field--reading.  One day a few moms were chatting about books and the conversation revealed we had many "readers" on the field.  We all commiserated how little time we had to read with small children and missed that luxury.  We decided to form a book club.  This would "force" us to start reading again--something we all longed for and missed terribly.

Our book club was formed and to this day we still meet once every four to six weeks (dependent upon how many pages the book of choice is) and have read some incredible books along the way.  It has been twelve years and hundreds of books.  We have added some members and lost some members but the core of original book-clubbers remain.  Vicky, Erin, Leslie, Michelle and myself were the pioneers.

At first I was a bit intimidated.  I had always been a reader but some of these moms were very well-read.  We decided each person would get to choose a book (of any genre) for the group as well as the place to meet and discuss the book.  We'd meet at restaurants, coffee shops or people's homes.  Whether everyone loved or hated the book you chose didn't matter--at least we all were reading!

The photo above is the Jets with Coach Phil and Coach Brian and their star players-Daniel, Jennifer, Colin, Emily, AJ, Grant and Mackenzie.

Opposite World

Any parent of a young toddler/child learns early on that saying "no," "don't," "stop it" too often results in what I call "opposite world."  Parenting experts tell us kids do not hear the negative command but do hear the last part of the sentence.  I'll share an example.  In kindergarten, all the kids were getting ready to walk out of the building and past a wall with wet paint.  Mr. Borino said to the kids, "Please don't touch the wall with your fingers because the paint is wet."  Grant heard "Touch the wall with your fingers because the paint is wet."  That is exactly what happened.  That was one of the many phone calls I received from teachers in elementary school.  I learned it is much more effective to redirect or distract a child when you are trying to prevent an undesirable behavior.  I even took a "Redirecting Children's Behavior" course to get this essential parenting strategy to sink in.  Still, I found myself reverting back to the infamous NO with poor results.

My son's second grade teacher was one of the few teachers who understood opposite world.  Mrs. Nasset simply had a way with children.  They were all called her "sweethearts" and each and every one of them would bend over backwards for her--including Grant.  He adored her.  She was the expert on redirecting and distracting.  It was all done with a tremendous amount of love.  I would never have believed this influence over the children but observed it first-hand during my volunteer hours in the classroom.  We all loved Mrs. Nasset.  She was the president of the anti-opposite world movement.

Photo above is our beloved Mrs. Nasset and Grant after their holiday performance

A Musical Gift from Pop-pop

As a kid, I was often woken up on a weekend morning by the Navy bugle call "Revielle."  My dad (ex-Navy) thought it was funny.......I, however, did not.

The upside was my dad's gift with music.  He played trumpet by ear.  I have many memories of him putting on his headphones, cranking up Benny Goodman and Les Brown and playing along; never reading music.  Definitely, a good ear.


Though I was not the benefactor of dad's "gift," I did try a few musical instruments as a child.  I was fair, at best.  I did, however, realize the benefit of introducing music to my children.  Cultivating the right brain (or right hemisphere) attributes was the purpose.


Grant was introduced to his Pop-pops musical talent at an early age.  I like to think this sparked his musical interest and certainly fostered the inherited gene.  It began with the trumpet in elementary school, then on to piano and by high school--the guitar (first electric then acoustic).  

Though our time with Pop-pop was cut short, his love of music lives on forever in his grandson.

The photo above was one of Grant's first trumpet lessons by his Pop-pop

A Nana's Love

A garden of love grows in a grandmother's heart
-Author unknown

When Nana found out we were having a boy, off she went....shopping.  She could not wait to fill Grant's closet with little boy clothes.  They knew her by name at Gymboree.

The bond formed between grandmother and grandchild was so strong.  The actual creation of this bond was an amazing experience to observe as a parent.  It is one I hope Grant remembers forever.

Because it became more difficult to travel with two small children, Nana made it a priority to come down to visit often.  When I would fret about the long drive to and fro with terrible traffic, she would say,"My car just goes on automatic pilot straight to your house."  It was obvious this relationship filled her up with so much love she would do anything to spend time with her grandchildren--and that she did.


Nana's nickname for Grant was "Granto."  I remember her dear friend, Haig Mahdessian (aka Haigo), came over to her house one day and started singing the "Granto Song." The song was made up on the spot with his deep (and loud) opera voice.  It stuck.  Granto it was.

Though Grant's current relationship with his Nana has changed due to her disease, my hope is that all of the wonderful memories made between grandmother and grandson are enough to last a lifetime. 


The photo above was taken by a friend of mine at the park in La Jolla





 

My Muh-muh

I could not leave the house for the first six weeks after Grant was born.  I had an insatiable nursing baby (who had to literally be ON me at all times or he screamed) and a one-year old who had just learned to walk--no, run.  Once I got up the courage and rounded up a sweet teenager to help, we ventured out into the world together.

Grant adored his big sister.  He followed her every move.  She made him giggle and laugh.  He was never alone and had his built-in playmate.  Though sometimes there were tears and screams from a pinch, punch or kick--they were truly inseparable.

Once of Grant's first words was "Muh-muh."  Samantha was a mouthful for a little boy and Muh-muh sure was easier.  He called her Muh-muh for a very long time.  If you've ever raised a boy you know their verbal skills typically lag behind girls in early childhood.  This was okay because it was endearing and we all loved this nickname for his sister. 


Photo above is of Muh-muh and Grant having a rest break on the floor

It's a Boy!

The news came as quite a surprise.  While caring for a four month old baby girl, I was informed by my nurse practitioner, "Yes, you are definitely pregnant."  We laughed about nobody telling me fertility was "enhanced" in the post partum period.  When she said, "Boy, they will be close," she wasn't kidding.  Grant was born almost exactly thirteen months from the date of his sister's birth.

Finding out we were having a boy was a thrill.  I pictured a rough-and-tumble boy and that is exactly what we received.

The night of Grant's birth was a comedy.  After my water broke in the middle of the night we drove to the hospital but it was one we were familiar with only during the day.  At night everything looked different.  We parked and started walking but couldn't find the after-hours entrance.  I started to get tired and found a bench.  My husband said he would go walk around and figure it out.  It was dark.  There was NOBODY around.  I started to freak out.  Here I was ready to deliver a baby and I'm sitting on a bench, in the dark, by myself.  Needless to say, a few choice words were exchanged that night.  I was a deranged pregnant woman.

My wonderful (and embarrassingly good-looking) obstetrician  made it in for the delivery and August 5, 1993 brought a beautiful baby boy into this world.

The photo above is of Grant in one of my favorite Gymboree outfits compliments of Nana

Raising a Son

My son is now a senior in high school.  This comes on the heels of sending his sister off to college this summer.  Raising a son has been so very different than raising a daughter.  I have learned so much about boys.  

In this blog I will take a look back at some VERY funny moments as well as some--well, let's just say some not so funny moments in raising a son.  I dedicate this blog to my son, Grant.

The photo above was taken over the summer during Grant's photography expedition to Yosemite.