"and they lived happily ever after".....

Hi!!!!! Yes, the rumors are true..... I am back..... and ALMOST ready to start writing again.......... in the meantime......... Take a look at my gorgeous kids!

The Ceremony......

Life altering slice of life

first posted in June....





My second born, my only daughter, my Heather......

Heather has always been......

A whirlwind of stubbornness, strength, pure will, and impish good cheer..........

Heather entered the world on a crest of noise and enthusiasm.......

and she never stopped for 16 years......

She was an energetic bundle of constant noise and motion.............

until November 1, 2004...............

I'd had one of those horrifying, heart- stopping, before dawn, phone calls.......

I heard words like: "Head Injury", "Airlifted To The Hospital", "You need to come"...... and......

"We don't know"................

Don't know...............

There are some words you never want to hear when it's your child........

"Don't Know", is definitely in the top 3............

"Don't Know", began one of the longest journey's I ever experienced as a mother............

"Don't Know", became a mantra, a prayer, a scream........

"Don't Know", does not begin to prepare you for the sight of your beautiful child hooked up to machines........

"Don't Know" is cold comfort in a pediatric ICU......

But sometimes.......

Sometimes, "Don't Know" is all we have to hang onto to...........


While the rest of the world goes on around you......


and you're caught in the limbo of: "Don't know".....


You still manage to revel in the small things......

The smell of the apple shampoo, and the feel of the terrycloth towel, as the nurse and I washed my baby's hair on the third day.......

the feel of her silky, sweet hair, between my fingertips, as I brushed her hair out into a fan on the pillow......

My little "Sleeping Beauty"...........

and somewhere along the way.....

"Please", joins "Don't Know", in your prayers, and the cries at 2 Am, when no one else can see...............

"Please" joins endless talk, and rounds of song.........


"Please" , follows you around the corridors of the hospital, corridors that you hate...... but have somehow memorized.......

It follows you onto the elevators.........

Where you try not to make eye contact with all the happy people going upstairs to look at the new babies.....

It follows you into the cafeteria.........

and sits with you at the table.........

staring at a plateful of food that you won't eat..........

"Please", holds you prisoner with it's promise of hope......

you want to turn your back on "Please", the day you see the feeding tube come in.........


When you're brought to your knees, by a small piece of rubber.......

When the dam breaks, and you're not just crying.... you're screaming in a stranger's arms.......

You want to walk away from "Please"..........

forever...........

But you can't.......

Because "Please", is what you're stuck with.......

"Please" is the only thing keeping it all together......


keeping hope alive.....

not just for yourself, but more importantly for your daughter........

and so you get off your knees.......

and introduce "Please" to "Defiance".......


You're reminded of the first time your baby girl came home in tears.......

You thought you knew the meaning of "True Helplessness".........

As you wanted to go beat up someone else's 5 year old......

Turns out.......

You didn't know a thing.....

and now the bully was back....

only instead of taking the shape of a 5 year old, in desperate need of a lesson in sharing......

This bully had chosen the more formidable form of "Brain Injury".........

If you're watching a bad "Lifetime" movie, "Brain Injury" makes for a semi - entertaining couple of hours.......

It gets you away from the laundry and dishes you don't want to do, anyway.......

The heroine/hero suddenly sits up and asks for a cheeseburger...... you get the happy ending...... and you go back to the laundry........

In real life "Brain Injury" is a bitch.........

You want to grab her, and pull her hair out by the roots....


The slowness with which she moves makes you want to scream until you're hoarse.......

Makes you long for the days of the 3 year old, who insists upon putting on her own shoes......

even though you're 10 minutes late to the pediatrician's office........

and your one year old wants to be naked......

even though you've explained to him.... ( semi-patiently) no less than 5 times........

that if his sister ever manages to get the shoe anywhere near the general vicinity of her foot.....

that you'll be going OUTSIDE!!!! ( where it's 8 degrees..... and clothes aren't just a fashion suggestion.... they're a necessity......)

and you think that you know it all.....

watching your 3 year old with the shoe.......

THIS is as slow as time can possibly move.......

Think again......

you know NOTHING......

sit down with "Brain Injury" for awhile......


remember slammed doors, and all the times you forced her to eat her vegetables, even though she assured you it may kill her........

for that, you were willing to take your chances......

"Bargaining" is now holding your hand..........

Your new best friend..........

maybe your only friend..........

You remember the times she screamed: "I hate you"..... and you'd think to yourself.......

"I'm not that fond of you either right now, kiddo".......

You'd give up the rest of your life just to hear one more, "I hate You".............


You remember a scene in Wal Mart ( of all places)
just a couple of months before.....

When your precious 16 year old wasn't getting her own way......

I don't care what anyone says.......

There is nothing uglier than a 16 year old girl not getting her way......

and you question your views on birth control, as your little princess informs not only you, but everyone else standing around in "House wares", that she has gone and had her belly button pierced.......

and there's: "Nothing you can do about it....... so there".......

yeah......

The stretch marks, and morning sickness????

so totally NOT worth it in that moment........

But "Bargaining", forces your hand.........

and you find yourself promising your daughter that she can have anything she wants pierced.........

you'll take her yourself.......

you'll get something pierced yourself....

if she'll only open her eyes.........

Give you just one more chance to be the better mother you know you can be........

"Brain Injury" moves in stages...........

You're given glimpses of this thing called "Hope".....

Glimpses, as your daughter begins answering you....

she might have an entire conversation one day....

Here's the other thing about a 16 year old girl........

No coma in the world is strong enough to keep them away from their first love..... the phone.......

my Heather came back slowly.............

she re-learned her "Baby Steps"............

re-learned how to brush her teeth........

and comb her hair.......

all with her eyes shut..........

I learned that you find hero's in the most unexpected places......

In a nurses touch........

In a Doctor's grin.....

and in your 16 year old as she walks down the hallway...... with her eyes still shut............

Our children are entrusted to us, for just a short amount of time.......

and in that time.....

we're supposed to teach them something about the world........

I'm not sure of the things I taught Heather........

( besides Wal Mart is NOT a good place to break bad news to mommy...)

But I know she taught me patience in those weeks.......

she taught me that anything worth having.....

is worth fighting like hell for........

Was I too selfish for wanting to gaze into those bright blue eyes again???

Maybe........

But thanks to the weeks spent with: "Don't Know", "Please", "Defiance", "Brain Injury", "Bargaining", and "Hope"............

I felt a little entitled.........

and than "Miracle" walked in the door........

It came in on a rainy, cold, evening.......

as the nurse and I were sitting Heather up to transfer her to a chair........

I was talking to Heather, saying: "Heather, It's Mama.... we're going to sit you in the chair for your supper... You're GOING TO EAT YOUR SUPPER"!!!

I was being very forceful.... because I really wanted her to eat... so we could get rid of the feeding tube......

Ironically......

I wasn't thinking of her opening her eyes.......

and that's when "Miracle" took us in it's arms............

Heather opened her eyes.........

The air left the room, and something grabbed me between my stomach and heart.......

It may have been "Belief"..........

because as my daughter and I looked into each other's faces for the first time in weeks...........

we shared a moment more profound, stronger even,
than the one we'd shared on the evening of her birth...

Heather was being born to me again in that moment.....

and as she looked at me, recognition lighting up her face........

it was as if she'd only been having a nap......

as she simply said: "Hi, Mama"............

there was only one thing I could say around the tears....

"Hi, baby...... Welcome Back"............

Today, Heather is a healthy, happy, 22 year old......

who doesn't like naps......

To be continued.....

because, that, is what life is all about......


Janine
"That which does not kill me,
had better run pretty damn fast".
~Author Unknown~

"Death By Long Underwear"

Hi....... Remember me??? I know I've been completely absent............ I'm sorry for the absence, and the repeat posts..... My mind has been busy trying to adjust to the idea that my little girl is becoming a wife....... and that in less than 4 weeks I've got to sit across a table from my ex, and his family....... This is supposed to be about Heather and Adam......... And as her mom, I'm trying my level best to keep it that way........ It's just another part of me wants to ask if we couldn't get a muzzle for him... And I just know, know.... that, me, him, what passes for his manhood, and forks and knives, all in the same room??? bad idea.......

Anyway.... I was given the lovely blog award by my friend http://mammydiaries.blogspot.com/

Thank you soooo much Mammy, I'll get to that tomorrow.... but I must share what you wrote about ME of all people with everyone else.... because... frankly.... I just loved it!


" PositivelyNeuroticMe:

FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY!!!!!!!! And occasionally so heartbreaking I cry... Amazing woman, amazing blog. Need I say more?"


Did I mention I loved that???? on to the repeat post.......






I've spent the last 21 years of my life in Maine........

During this time I've waited patiently to become a "Mainer"..........

I have had to come to grips with the fact that this is not in the cards....

"Mainers" are basically hale, hearty, and stoic, by nature.....
( I think it's something in the water...)


I....... take to my bed over an ingrown nail............

and if there's gonna be blood in any way, shape, or form.......

I hope there's also gonna be five cute medics, and a defibrillator, standing by..........

I will never make the grade in the stoic department

I love Maine for some of the people, and experiences it's brought me..........

I was born and brought up in the city..........

A child of a city project........

So how did "Caroline In The City", end up as an extra in "Rebecca Of Sunnybrook Farm," ( learns how to walk in snowshoes) "????????????

I got married...........................

( we all have to have one really huge mistake in our lives to learn and grow from.... and he was mine.......)

he brought me to Maine.........

And while there are many things I have grown to love about my adopted state, I have also discovered there are many things that are just not gonna float.........

I am never gonna hug a tractor, understand the whole "Dooryard" thing, or jump for joy at the sight of a bowl of fiddleheads................ ( anything that you have to go pick yourself, in hip waders, should NOT be considered a delicacy.............)

I'm here to tell you that "Bambi" and "Bullwinkle" belong on the TV screen...... not on the other end of my fork................. ( and this particular "Flatlander" DOES know the difference between "Where's The Beef"???? and "Run, Bambi, RUN"...........)

Snow has never been a religious experience for me..................

I have never broken into song and dance at the sight of the first snowflake of the season........

I reserve that occasion for "Borders" or the last pint of "Ben& Jerry's" at the market........

I don't know how to walk on concrete........

When you put ice under my feet, bad things happen.............

I don't do "Hat Hair"...........


consequently, my ears are gonna fall off one of these days............


I've never embraced the thought of long underwear........

First............

I can barely fight and squeeze this body into SHORT underwear..... and we're not even gonna discuss pantyhose..... Except to say that it IS possible to get stuck inside a pair........... and while firemen are perfectly willing to go after your kitten in a tree, something tells me they draw a line when it involves buttocks, and nylon..... and who can blame them really??????

Long underwear is bulky, itchy, and let's face it folks...... A fashion statement it ain't..........

and if I got stuck in a pair......... That would probably be fatal................

My mother would never get over it.........

Underwear is a pretty big deal to her..........

I just don't think she'd ever recover from : Cause of Death....... Tight Underwear..............

yep........

I definitely think I have to accept the fact that underneath it all...... I am a "Flatlander" through and through..... You can take the girl from "Away" away from "Away".............

But you can never take the "Away" away from the girl.........


So here I am..... an enigma in my adopted state.........

left here sort of by an accident of fate.......

and they haven't figured out what to do with me yet.......
( I'm pretty sure I'm too big to throw back........)

I'm off to call for my mother ship.......

"Me And My Teddy Bear"........

This is a repeat post......... The one I did for my Dad....... My Dad was always so proud of my writing...... I love you, Dad.........




My father passed away on October 3, 2006, after a 4 month battle with lung cancer.....

4 months wasn't long enough to process the fact that not only can fathers get sick, they can do the unthinkable........

They can die..........

4 months wasn't long enough to adjust to the sight of the helpless "Little Boy" complete with oxygen, that my once strong father turned into.........

4 months wasn't long enough for me to explain the words: "Terminal" and "Palliative Care", to my devastated mother...........


4 months wasn't long enough to understand that when you take the words "Cure" and "Hope" away from doctors..... They become simply people........ They no longer have the answers......... They look just as helpless as all the other faces around you.........

4 months just wasn't long enough.........

It wasn't long enough for me to explain to my desperately sick father, that I finally "Got It"..........

That I saw parental love comes out in all shapes, and forms.......

It doesn't always show itself in the ways a child can appreciate.....

Children see their parents as parents.........

period.

We don't see the person before.......

The little boy, with the blue sweater, and brown shorts, who accidentally set himself on fire when he was 5 or 6.........

The little boy who was growing up in the midst of a large, noisy, Irish, family.....

The little boy some might refer to as a "Handful".......

The little boy who's Irish mother referred to as: "A Hell raiser"......

The little boy who would spend the next few months fighting for life in a burn unit......

The little boy who would lose his beloved father at age 10..........

A father who understood the boy wasn't a "Hell raiser". but simply a boy looking for his place........ in the only way he knew how..........

The little boy would turn into a young man..........

A young man who would never earn a high school diploma, choosing instead to work with his hands, and his back..........

A necessity not necessarily of his own choosing........

but born out of his large family's need........

A young man who loved stick ball, The Boston Red Sox, and "The Drink"..... a little too much......

Turn to the drink, for entertainment, for comfort.....

It's what young men did in South Boston, on warm summer evenings, with the breeze smelling of car exhaust, starchy linen, and sweat...........

and on long, cold, winter afternoons, when the breeze smelled like snow, and boredom.......

The young man would eventually marry.......

Marriage to a young woman with a horrible disease called diabetes, would not calm his wild ways........ ( at first)

The young man was a hard worker.......

Even on those too early mornings, after exiting the bar stools at 2 AM.....

The young man would appear, Clean shaven, to work on the bushes, and in the trees......

He worked for the city..........

He was what was called a "Laborer"......

Even on the day his wife entered the hospital to have their first child, a child the doctors had told them may never be possible........

The young man appeared at work, across town........

This was in the days before lamaze, birthing rooms, and daddies wearing cups, and sliding down the wall in a faint, as their wives delivered their children beside them........

The young man knew he'd be no good at pacing in a waiting room..........

so, he went to work, and took his anxiety out on the trees.......

till the call came..........

and he raced through the hot summer streets, and subways, on a June afternoon......

To arrive at the hospital, and take his newborn daughter into strong, sweaty arms.....

The first girl born in his family in 30 years.....

I'm told his pride, and his joy, rolled off him in waves........

A palpable presence........

The young man had become a dad on that June afternoon........

My Dad...........

I'd like to say he was always perfect at it..........

He wasn't...........

The love was evident on his face in the home movie of his baby girl's christening......

as the young man gently ran a finger across his newborn baby's brow........

The love was evident in his voice, as he gently knelt at his young daughter's bedside... singing chorus after chorus of: "Me and My Teddy Bear".........


The love was less evident in the screaming weeks before his young daughter's wedding........

The love was coming out in screams, helplessness, and pleading..........

As the now middle aged man, and defiant teenage daughter went head to head.......

The teenager so sure she was right, and the middle aged man facing the heartbreak of watching his firstborn make her own mistakes.........

The middle aged man would rally..... ( as all parents must do, in the end..)

To walk his daughter down the aisle, and give her away..........

To a man that would abuse her.......

A man that would batter her mind, soul, and body.........

as the middle aged man stood by, helpless to end his child's suffering.........

until a phone call from 400 miles away..........

A phone call that began his child's journey back to a world, full of healing, hope, redemption, laughter, joy, and beauty........

The middle aged man had become an "Older Man" during the years in between.....

and the defiant teenage girl had grown from cocky teenager, to sad young woman, living in a shell......

The cruel hands of an abuser can strip away self-confidence, quicker than 80 year old farm hands can strip the skin off an ear of corn.........

The sad young woman turned slowly into a middle aged woman......

A middle aged woman who had laughter, strength, and life returned to her eyes.....

A middle aged woman who never passed up an opportunity to give thanks......

To those advocates who worked so diligently for her, and beside her.........

To friends who supported and loved her, when she was incapable of loving herself.....

But did she ever stop to thank this now older man, her Dad........???

I'd like to say yes.............

But isn't that what parents are for????

to fix things????

The middle aged woman, and the older man could still go head to head.......

The older man now referred to his oldest as: "My Daughter The Feminist".....

with both awe, and a little horror........

The middle aged woman's love was evident........

in her hands, as she tied the back of her father's hospital gown, waiting for the doctor, and news no one ever wants to hear.......

in her eyes, as she watched a surgeons face, while he struggled with words like "Mass" and "Biopsy".............

in her voice, as she knelt gently down beside her father's chair......

to convince her father that he needed to go back to the hospital.......

as her once strong father gazed at her with the eyes of a scared child......

In her heart, as it broke at the unfairness of a situation beyond all control....

and in her heart again, in the years following.....

As the middle aged woman learned all about parental love, and the shapes and sizes it comes in............

The lengths parents will go to in order to attempt to right the wrongs, and make the bad better for their children.........

in the end, parents are far more than parents..........

They're people........

In Loving Memory Of Patrick Thomas Canty

March 24, 1934- October 3, 2006...

"Me and my teddy bear, we got no worries, we got no cares......
me and my teddy bear, we just play and play all day......
Me and my teddy bear..... he's got one eye, and got no hair....
but me and my teddy bear, we got no worries, we got no cares.....
we just play and play all day".........