Giving Love to the Village

I was all set to sit down and write an update on how the Schumacher Family is doing on checking off items on our Summer Bucket List. Because I LOVE checklists. And, because about this time each summer, I start to feel panicky that summer is too quickly coming to an end; and I want to fit in everything I haven't done yet. And it makes me feel so much better to look at everything we HAVE done this summer, because when I look back on it (especially in pictures), it usually seems like a LOT.

But I am also a huge plaigarist of ideas. And I just read Kelle Hampton's blogpost from a day or two ago. It was Hallmark-sponsored (which mine, obviously, is not!) but the topic was cool. It was about appreciating all the little ways those around us help to love and raise our children in really special, memorable ways. And her post made me want to write, a little stream of consciousness, about that.

I want to write about my mom. How she came to stay with us for 6 weeks, back when Ella was six months old, because our old nanny flaked out and I was going to have a nervous breakdown trying to find child care for Ella Bella in just a few days' notice. She took temporary leave from her job, packed up, drove down to Columbus, left my stepdad to fend for himself for 6 weeks, during which time she joyfully took care of Ella, cleaned our house daily and cooked Chris the most delicious meals he'll probably ever enjoy (that many consecutive days in a row) in his own home.

How she spoils my girls RIDICULOUSLY. Like it's a birthday EVERY time she sees them. She brings Target bags full of their favorite foods (mac and cheese, gummies for Kate, Oreos, goldfish); usually at least one outfit a piece and almost always a toy. Like mermaid dolls in the summer. Or Belle princess dresses, just because she saw them online. Or a new Strawberry Shortcake remote control car, because Kate wanted one.

How she has never yelled at the girls, even though they can sometimes act like little monsters around her, precisely because....they know she'll never yell at or punish them. How Kate now asks me -- every single day -- if we can go see Grandma. How Ella and Kate call her at least 2 nights a week at bedtime and ask her to read them bedtime stories over the phone. How she will gladly read -- even the longest, most boring stories...like the one about "Porkis and Dorkis" from a Beatrix Potter book she should hever have shown them a few months ago...until they fall asleep.

How she has assembled a ridiculous collection of toys at her house; so the girls are sure to be entertained while they visit. So many toys that she has dedicated an entire sun room to baby doll changing stations and cribs and strollers, tiny tables and my full collection of Strawberry Shortcake dolls (which she saved from when I was 5, hoping that I would have little girls who love those dolls as much as I did. As much as my girls do today.)



How her dining room is also filled with doll houses and other accessories; so the girls can play in different rooms when they don't feel like sharing. How she even has a battery operated Barbie Jeep, an assortment of tricycles and swings for these little girls -- who live not down the street, but 3 hours away.





How they RUN to her every time they see her...whether she's pulling in our driveway for a weekend visit; or we're pulling into hers. Or we're meeting half way, in a Burger King parking lot, so she can have the girls to herself for the weekend.





How she'll sleep like a dog at the bottom of a full bed, so both girls 'get' to sleep with her, because she can't tell either one of them to sleep by herself. How she WANTS to be the one to wake up with them on days they awake early, because she doesn't want to miss the morning routine. Brushing their teeth. Making pancakes. Putting pony tails in their hair.

I want to write about Nana, Chris's mom. How she used to come to visit the girls every Sunday (before she retired.) How she actively plays with the girls during her visits. Playing baby dolls or princesses; acting out Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Dressing up in a 1980s prom dress and tiara so she, too, can be a princess. For hours upon hours at a time.



How she ALWAYS watches the girls when we have plans to go out -- even though we usually ask at the last minute, with little advance notice. How she joins us for Trick or Treating, holding their little hands as they walk up to houses. How she always tells me not to worry about it, when I apologize for the fact that there's peanut butter smeared all over the floor...or no decaf coffee in the cupboard...or for the fact that Kate woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

How, the week after she retired, she started making lists of fun things she could do with the girls....how she took them to the Franklin Conservatory Butterfly Exhibit and a "Strawberry Festival" in London, Ohio, in just the first two weeks -- both local summertime activities I didn't know about or think to take the girls to.

I want to write about my cousin Tommy, who's in his early 20s and lives in Cleveland, but calls me every time he's in Columbus for work, so he can stop by to see the girls. How Ella remembers that he brings her coins when he comes, and that his brother, Dustin, also in his early 20s, babysat her once and played Snow White with her.

I want to write about my brother Rich, who built my girls the most fabulous lemonade stand EVER because he heard Ella said she wanted to have one so she could donate money to little girls who don't have houses.



I want to write about my cousin Olivia who loves my girls so much ... just as I adored her when she was a little girl...that she comes to stay with us one week each summer so she can play with and spend time with them. She's a New York City girl who has fair white skin and despises being in the sun. But she'll play play dough and princesses with my girls, and spend hours at the pool. Because those are the things they love.



And my Aunt Laura. And how even when she and I are in a knock-down-drag-out fight; not speaking to each other because of some pointless argument, she never forgets a birthday and always, always sends my girls the sweetest, most thoughtful, personal gifts...like fairies in their very own jars, complete with grass ecosystems. Or Alice in Wonderland teasets.

I want to write about my friends Heidi and Stephanie, and how Ella and Kate, with no prompting, call them Aunt Heidi and Aunt Stephanie because, well, they certainly seem like family. And about our neighbor kids -- most of whom are older than our girls -- but who always include Ella and Kate in their reindeer games. Or, as pictured here, their dog circuses.



I wish I lived closer to my mama. To my broter and sister and my girls' cousins in Youngstown. That we got to see Chris's brothers and their kids and his parents more often. But I'm pretty blessed, and pretty grateful, for all the ways so many of my friends and family make my girls feel special, feel loved....for all the memories my friends and family are making in my little girls' hearts and minds.

My siblings-in-law. My heroes.

Note: This post is written in honor of Chris's brother, Ryan, his wife, Brittany and their beautiful boys, Greyson and Lachlan. It's long. Because they're pretty awesome. Please read, and please pay special attention to a special request I'm making of you...at the end of this post.

Chris's brother, Ryan, and his wife, Brittany have two beautiful, darling little boys. They live in Tennessee, so we don't get to see them often. But we follow their lives from states away, thanks in large part to blogs and Shutterfly and Facebook.


Their oldest son, Greyson, is now 4 years old, just one month younger than our Ella Bella...as you can see from this picture they took together, the very first time they met, at just 3+4 months old.


Greyson is ridiculously handsome. And you can see his gentleness of spirit and his kindness in his eyes, by looking at just about any photo of his sweet face. He's a loving soul and a cuddlebug and the stories of the foods this child will eat will make moms of picky eaters, like me, want to weep. Greyson has a darling younger brother, Lachlan. Two of the best parents on earth. Great teachers, a great school. He has a loving extended family. He has a momma who throws him birthday parties that are lauded for their awesomeness by 'big deal' party planning Web sites and blogs. He has a best stuffed animal friend, named Englebert Humperdink; and a real Great Dane he can ride like a pony.

And he also has a disease called Tuberous Sclerosis.

This disease affects 1 in 6000 babies. But before we learned our nephew had it, we had never heard of the disease. The cause of Tuberous Sclerosis is unknown. And there is currently no cure.

The disease affects people in many different ways. So far, this disease has caused Greyson to have multiple seizures, daily, since he was an infant. It's caused him to be on dozens of different types of medications to control those seizures. And the medications have often kept him from fully experiencing life -- from fully being able to learn and play and develop -- like he'd otherwise be able to. It has caused permanent problems with his kidneys. It's limited his motor skill development and his speech development. It's caused him to visit the hospital more times, and to have more complex medical procedures, in 4 years than most people do during the entire course of their lives. And that's just scratching the surface when it comes to explaining how this maddening disease has impacted his darling little life.




This disease has caused Greyson's incredible parents more worry and concern than most parents experience in a lifetime. It's the reason they haven't really had a full night's sleep in 4 years. It's the reason they don't feel completely comfortable going out for a couples' only date night, why it's hard for them to contemplate going away by themselves for a long weekend.

Ryan and Brittany are my heroes because despite the many challenges this elusive disease has placed in their way, they endure, and fight, and perservere, and live inspiring, beautiful lives.

They're my heroes for the way they love Grey and Lachlan. They're my heroes for enduring the constant hurt that I know their hearts must feel every time they see Greyson fall because of wobbly legs (another consequence of this merciless disease), or experience a rough seizure, or zone out because of medication. They're my heroes because they don't just have to endure these heartbreaks once in a while, once every few months. They have to endure them every day. And they do it with grace and strength and courage. And it humbles me.

As a mom, Brit is my hero because she endures all of these challenges while still being Brittany. Funny and sassy and drop-dead, perfectly beautiful...talented and artistic. Witty and strong. The woman who decorates a house that belongs in Better Homes & Gardens, where drop-in guests could eat off the floor. She does it while cooking gourmet meals and throwing fabulous parties for her clients. While maintaining an awesome bod with arms to die for. She does it...she endures all the suckiness that Tuberous Sclerosis throws her way...while still being this amazing, strong, beautiful person. Her strength and her fight...they humble me.

Ryan and Brit are my heroes for their selflessness. They're my heroes because they are the first to tell you that, while Greyson's illness is really, really tough, they're grateful to have access to quality healthcare and committed doctors; to have health insurance; to have a team of specialists to help Greyson fight this illness.

They're my heroes for taking time to celebrate the good in life. For throwing fabulous birthday parties. For doing all the 'normal' stuff that could so easily get lost in the busy-ness of fighting an evasive disease like TS. And for all the ways they go above and beyond. Like making special teacher appreciation gifts to mark the last day of preschool. Or sending thank you's for birthday gifts just days after the gifts are received.

They're my heroes for celebrating and savoring the days when Greyson thrives and excels; when TS steps aside and lets him laugh and play with his toys and his baby brother. The days that are seizure free; the days that are fall free. The days when Greyson gets to be 'just' a little boy.

They're my heroes for fighting this disease with all they've got. And for not letting it define them. Or their son.

My oldest daughter, Ella, and Greyson were born just a month apart. I often think of that first trip Brit and Ry made to Columbus. And the photo shoots we had with those two precious babies when they were just 3 + 4 months old. It hurts my heart to think about how different their life experiences have been since that first visit. I'm grateful that my girls are healthy. So very grateful. But not a day goes by when I don't think of the unfairness of it all. How one child can be born with a (currently) incurable disease. And another can be born without one.

Chris and I think and talk often about how we wish there was more we could do to help Ryan and Brittany through the tough times that TS throws their way. We wish we could visit their home to squeeze on the boys on Saturday afternoons. We wish we could give Ryan and Brittany a day off, every week. We wish we could take care of Lachlan while they're with Greyson for a routine trip to the doctor, or an unnerving visit to the hospital, or to an overnight stay for a complex medical procedure. We wish we could bring them dinners on tough days.

But the reality is that we live in Ohio and they live in Tennessee, so it's hard to show our love and support in any of those every day ways. So, with this post, Chris and I are asking you to help us tangibly celebrate and recognize the inspiring way Ryan and Brittany and Greyson fight this disease every day of their lives.

With this post, Chris and I are asking our friends (and strangers too) to make a donation to Team Greyson. Ryan and Brittany launched Team Greyson 3 years ago, to raise funds in Greyson's honor, to find a cure for Tuberous Sclerosis. Chris and I are asking you to help them reach their goal of raising $5,000. We will match the donations made by our friends and colleagues, at 100%.

Donating is easy and can be done here.

We hope you'll consider joining us to show Ryan and Brittany and Greyson much they inspire you -- by just donating $5, $10, $15 or $20. It's a small but meaningful way to show parents like this beautiful family that they really are...our heroes.

My Best Friend's Wedding

When I mentioned to my Columbus friends and co-workers that Chris and I were taking the girls to the Bahamas to attend my best friend's wedding, I could see the wheels turning in some of their minds, trying to think which of my friends hadn't yet tied the knot.





They were mostly thinking of my Columbus friends. My Ohio University BFFs who moved here (and thankfully stayed here) after graduation back in '97 and '98. And the 'newer' friends that I've been fortunate to collect; mostly from different places I've worked along the way.

And when I saw those wheels turning, I was reminded how fortunate I've been; to have had a number of different 'BFFs' at different times of my life. But there's a very special place in my heart, and life, for my very first best friend. Kate Bartell.

I often think of my school-age life as being separated into two chapters. Chapter 1: Before Kate. Chapter 2: After Kate.

We first met in the 3rd grade at Market Street Elementary School. I have pictures of Kate standing next to me at my 3rd and 4th grade birthday parties, thrown at the local roller rink. Then elementary school came to a close and were all spit up into 2 different middle schools. 5th and 6th grade? Well, they pretty much sucked for me.

I'll refrain from sharing the names of the offenders -- but man, did I get my fair share of cruelty and cold shoulders from a range of middle school Mean Girls. (Who later, for the record, mostly turned out to be kind, sweet, good natured adults.) I remember getting kicked in the shins at the lunch table until I agreed to get up and sit somewhere else. Having no one to play with at recess. Oh, the humanity of it all! Now, it's funny. Then, it was devastating. I remember wondering if I'd ever find my place in the hard-to-navigate world of middle school.

Then, in 6th grade, Kate Bartell transferred middle schools. We ended up sitting at the same table on her first day. She had a fancy, fabulous, turquoise, knee-length sweater and matching leggins, from one of the boutique kids' clothing stores in town. And it came with a matching, bedazzled whistle, which she wore around her neck. She blew it to demonstrate that it was not only fancy, but functional. Teachers decended upon our table to punish the culprit. I, ever the rule follower, promptly narked on Kate for being the literal whistle blower. I immediately felt my stomach sink, as she was ordered to stand at the front of the lunch room, by herself, for the remainder of the lunch period. Terrified that she, whom I was sure would be the coolest girl in school, would now hate me forever.

Fortunately, after a few angry looks, she forgave me. And as far as I remember, the rest was history.

She, our friend Jen, and I, were joined at the hip throughout 7th and 8th grade. They spent practically every summer night at my house for sleepovers. I loved her three older brothers. Her older sister. Her dad. Her mom. We listened to George Michael together. We rode our ten-speed bikes everywhere together. We tried to beg our way into local membership-only pools together. I couriered her around on my decade-old Peugot moped, and had 3rd degree burns on my calves to prove it. We ate Eastgate Pizza together. We went on summer vacations with Kate's family. Those were the only summer vacations I had as a child; and we lived for them. Had our first tastes of alcohol together. Attempted our first beer bongs together. Navigated the amusing and scary world of aggressive older boys together.

We went to school dances together. Commisserated over bad decisions together. Spent endless hours talking about 'the pit.' The term we created to describe that horrible guilty feeling we got in our gut, when we had done something terribly, terribly wrong. Like kiss another boy, or ride a motorcycle with another boy, when we already had a boyfriend. Or get caught throwing a party when our parents were out of town. Or get a ticket for reckless operation, the very first time we (OK, I) drove my friends somewhere.

I spent countless hours on the phone with a half-dozen of Kate's boyfriends and suitors. All hopelessly in love with Kate. All wanting my advice on how to win her affection. I swear, to this day, that every boy who ever dated Kate Bartell wanted to marry her.

But Kate Bartell was an elusive girl. She didn't know, back then, exactly what her future would hold. But even back then, she knew she wanted something different than our hometown, and most of her high school suitors, had to offer.

We both went to different colleges and eventually moved to different towns. And in the nearly two decades (yikes) since we graduated from Boardman High School, there've been a couple years here and there that have gone by without us seeing each other. Some have gone by without a single phone conversation.

As crazy as that seems to me, it probably seems crazier that I would still call her my best friend, after all the time and distance between us. But it's not crazy. Because she's Kate. She's my first friend. My forever friend. She played such an important role in my life, in shaping the person I became, in shaping my own self perception, during those scary and difficult preteen and teenage years. I can't imagine my childhood, or my life, without her.

So when Kate told me, more than a year ago, that she had finally said yes! That finally, after all these years, she had agreed to marry a suitor :-), her long-time love of about a half-a-decade, Doug Hughes, I was surprised and happy and excited, all at the same time.

After all those heart wrenching phone calls with all those childhood suitors, part of me thought Kate just might travel through life breaking hearts the rest of her life. But I knew, after meeting Doug just a handful of times, that if any guy in the world had a chance of being 'the one,'...of helping her create the life she imagined, he was that guy.

I had the honor of watching Kate marry Doug just a week ago in the Bahamas. And every detail of the wedding was perfect.

From the exchange of vows in a garden that was built to replicate Versailles...





to the stunning reception overlooking the bay....to the song that Doug wrote and sang to Kate (yes, for real)...with the world-famous jazz band they flew in from Chicago.



All of those details were memorable. But my favorite memory of the week was going to Kate's room immediately prior to the wedding. She was still in her robe, veil on. Hair and make up done. Opening a bottle of champagne. Smiling.



Her sister and nieces and some other friends were there. And I didn't detect even an ounce of hesitation or worry in Kate. My best friend, who had been adored and courted by so many boys, all of whom she had alluded, for so long -- since the 6th grade! -- was really tying the knot. And she was really, really ready for it. She was happy. And that made my heart very happy.



(For the record: "Tan Mom" is not my idol. I swear I wear SPF 15 or 30 on my face EVERY DAY. This ridiculous skin color is not a goal! I obviously need SPF 70, and to reapply 25 times daily. Or I'm going to look like an orange raisin forever.)

My daughters Kate (whom I named after Kate) and Ella were in awe of "Miss Kate" and her wedding. They took in every single detail. The flowers...



...meeting my high school friends -- all of whom looked completely, ridiculously, perfect...maybe even more gorgeous than high school (for real. It's not fair!)...



The dress. The first kiss. The music at the reception. The facy place settings.
Getting to have their first dance with a boy (our high school friend, Traci's, beautiful son). The bride + groom's first dance.







And I couldn't help but watch them, with all of their joy and excitement, and realize that I was only 4 years older than Ella when I first met Kate. It was a happy-and-sad reminder of how fast life happens.

These days, when I count my blessings, I too often count today's blessings. But it's easy to forget the thousands of blessings of my younger life. Before I really knew who I was, or what I wanted out of life, or who I wanted to be. When I think of blessings, Kate's friendship undoubtedly is one of the greatest of my childhood. I pray Ella and Kate are as blessed as I was -- to find a forever friend so young in life. And I'm so grateful to have had the blessing to be there to watch my forever friend start a new phase of her beautiful life with the guy who finally stole her heart.



Cheers to you, Kate + Doug. I adore you. Happy, happy life.