The tradition continues…

I don’t know why I’m always so surprised… because my mom has bought me 3 special “coming home from the hospital outfits” for each of my 3 boys.

And her tradition continues with Henry.

With 5 weeks and counting… I was greeted this morning with the first gift of his coming home outfit. Talk about getting my heart pumping with excitement!

(Brown University is both Matt’s and my alma mater. And the place where we met on a beautiful October morning… making these pants even more special.)

There’s nothing I love more than crisp, summer whites! Henry is my first summer baby!

- Audrey

She can’t stop drivin’ that hot rod Lincoln

Well, in this case, a 2004 Subaru Forester.

I must admit that as I write, my heart is as heavy as the hard chromium on a catalytic converter.

I had to take my mom’s car from her. I had to take her last symbol of eighty-three years of independence. I had to take the most favorite car she has ever owned… a fully loaded, soft gold colored, beige leather interior, mint condition with 6,000 total miles 2004 Subaru Forester.

Yes, I said 6,000 miles. As in 6,000 miles.

My mom is a fiercely independent woman who, like many of our mothers or grandmothers, has lived through the Great Depression, too many wars, and an explosion of technology that is unprecedented. My mom has had to adjust to widowhood and the deaths of many family members and friends.

She has mastered use of her computer, which keeps her in touch with her family and the world.

But I don’t think she ever thought that her car would be taken from her.

The problem is her scoliosis and severe spinal stenosis, both of which have ravaged her spine. And certain movements of body have become almost impossible. She still lives on her own at a wonderful apartment complex for the elderly. She walks at least a mile each day, often with her walker (but all too often, in my humble opinion, without). She takes the senior citizen bus to her local senior center for chair exercises three times per week, and also to her local Walmart (”Walmarts,” as she says). And she takes the senior bus to have her hair done once a week.

I take her grocery shopping, to her doctors’ appointments, and out and about for other essentials, lunch… and just plain old company.

But her beloved Subaru was always there in the parking spot, just waiting, all-gassed up for that necessary trip to the mall for a new outfit that she didn’t really need. Or to her local pharmacy, where she could spend hours picking out just the right greeting cards for the people she loves. And to the local Dunkin’ Donuts for that muffin or bagel or hot cup of coffee in the middle of the afternoon.

The Subaru was her magic carpet.

The problem is safety. Safety for her. Safety for others on the road. My mom insisted that her reflexes were good. “Watch,” she would tell me emphatically as she lifted her right foot and tapped it on the ground, “I still have my reflexes.” And I would nod and say, “I know. But driving is more than reflexes.”

Until today. Today was the dreaded appointment with her physiatrist. As my mom calls him… “my nerve, bone and muscle guy.” I knew I was going in today with the final question of driving. My mom knew the same. And I know we both knew the answer long before the appointment.

But today it was final. No more car. No, not even the mile to the mall, the .5 mile to the pharmacy, or around the corner to Dunkin’ Donuts.

No more car.

I felt such sadness come over me when the physiatrist slowly shook his head in that “it’s-just-not-a-good-idea” way. I felt debilitating pain. I felt that place where nothing can help.

My mom was stoic. She even tapped her foot and said, “My reflexes are still good.” But she said this with resignation.

I wish my mom had said, “NO. NO-ONE IS GOING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO, DAMN IT.” But she didn’t. First, my mom never raises her voice in anger. Second, she never curses.

It got me thinking what I will do when my kids take my car from me some day. First, I will raise my voice. Second, I will curse, ‘cuz it’s something that I do…

And it also got me thinking about my mom and her cars. I remember my mom piling my brothers and me into her big blue and white Chevy station wagon when we lived in California and my dad was “out to sea” for months at a time. We went on adventures each day - the Navy pool, the San Diego Zoo, and always for ice cream at the local ice cream shop. When we moved back to New England where my mom grew up, she piled us kids into her steel blue Falcon for all the trips to visit relatives, to all of our lessons, to the library, and always to our local ice cream shop.

I remember my mom taking me out to drive when I had my learner’s permit. By then she had a little red Corvair. Oh, how she didn’t raise her voice or curse at me during those trying times is beyond me.

So my heart is heavy for the woman who taught me how to do cartwheels in my back yard. How to dive into a pool. How to hit a golf ball. How to bowl a strike.

How to drive.

Hey, maybe a big, hot, heavy, cruisin’ hot rod Lincoln would be a safer bet?

I’ll pass that one by my mom…

Check me out on CNN.com!

If you’re not following me on Twitter (and if that is the case… why, pray tell, aren’t you!?) you may have missed my tweets yesterday about the article on CNN.com that I am featured in!

Writer Diane Mapes interviewed my husband Steve for her article entitled “Get your BlackBerry out of our bed!”

The article has a link to PinksandBlues.com, which has been wonderful for traffic!

Some people have asked me how I have gotten interviewed twice now on CNN.com. The first time I was interviewed, it was actually through the Associated Press. The reporter had found me through my Mama Doggy Love blog (yes, I know that I need to update that blog).

This time, the interview came about through HelpAReporter.com. I subscribe to this free service started by entrepreneur Peter Shankman, which connects reporters looking for sources and, well… sources!

When I saw the subject of the article, and the kind of source the reporter was looking for (a spouse who feels like his/her partner has a “digital mistress”), I jokingly said to Steve, “You should be interviewed for this article!” He agreed - and went ahead with contacting the reporter!

Again, you can check out the article here!

Oh, and if you do want to follow me on Twitter, I’m @JanePorricelli (or you can click here to see my timeline).

- Jane

My boys + my belly + the beach = Perfect Mother’s Day

We expected rain all week in New England for Mother’s Day.

So you can imagine my delight when I opened my eyes at the usual 6:45am and sun was peeking through my bedroom windows!

But where was my husband?

Downstairs making coffee, breakfast and (gasp!) cleaning the kitchen before bringing up the boys and the news that I could sleep “as long as I wanted.”

But all I wanted was to gather my boys, my belly and head to one of our spectacular Rhode Island beaches!

This is what my morning looked like…

(Me and my boys - William and Alexander - pushing Benjamin… getting ready for baby Henry. Thanks BOB Strollers for this amazing stroller! Can’t wait to use it more this summer, and for getting into shape after Henry!)

*I just wanted to update - I’ve gotten a bunch of emails this morning from people asking where I got my polo shirt (in the photos on the beach). It was a gift from my husband from Motherhood Maternity. The color is aqua. The style is button-down polo. And it’s that ultra-soft cotton.*

- Audrey

An ode to my Mom

I always knew that I had a special relationship with my mom.

But it took me awhile longer to realize that not every daughter had a mother like mine.

I guess, when I was younger, I thought that all mothers were just like mine.

I thought that all mothers woke their daughters each morning with a loving kiss and a declaration that today would be a great day.

And that when their daughters would say, “Just let me sleep a few more minutes,” all mothers would gently tuck the covers back around their daughters and wish them sweet dreams during those extra minutes of sleep.

I thought that all mothers would stay up late with their daughters as they studied for a big test or finished a big term paper, checking in every once in awhile with snacks, cups of hot tea and encouraging words.

I thought that all mothers had the right words to say, at the right moments, whenever their daughters needed them. That all daughters saw their mothers as the first person to go to whenever they needed to be comforted.

I thought that all mothers and daughters laughed together and genuinely enjoyed each others’ company.

Because that is all I have ever known.

By the time I got to high school, and girls started to “hate” their mothers, it began to hit me that I had something with my mom that not many other people had.

My mom has always just been my best friend, even back in high school.

If I had a fight with a friend, or if I wasn’t invited to something that everyone else was invited to, or if a boy broke my heart, or if I needed to vent about a teacher or a coach, or if a friend put me in an awkward situation… she was always the first person I wanted to go to.

For her advice. For her words of wisdom. For her love.

She never tried to be that “cool mom” who wants to be best friends with her children because she’s trying to act like a teenager.

We never had fights, or didn’t talk to each other. I never told my mom I “hated” her.

My mom just is, and always has been, the first person I go to when I have news to share… good, bad, funny, interesting or otherwise. I genuinely enjoy my mother’s company, and her opinion and her approval mean so much to me.

When I have (human) children of my own someday, I will know I have had the best role model, who has tought me just what a mother should be.

And until then, I will continue trying to emulate the kind of wife, daughter - and woman - she is.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

Love,
Janie

Happy Mother’s Day!

Happy Mother’s Day ladies!!

I hope your day is filled with love and happiness and lots of joy!!

And to my mother in particular… my best friend…

I love you more than anything. And I honor you on this day.

Thank you for being. Thank you for being YOU. There literally is not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for sending me to you. I know I joke about this with you… but I must have done something really good in a past life to get you as my mother in this lifetime.

I love everything about you.

Your smile. Your wisdom. Your humor. Your sense of style (very chic!). Your capacity to love life to its fullest. Your ability to look ay any situation with a positive outlook. And just for always being there for all of us. Always. No matter what.

Now that I’m a mother myself… I know that unconditional love that you have for your child(ren). And my only goal as a mother to my children is to be half of a mother as you are to me… I would consider myself very successful and lucky if that happens. Because truly… I just want to be like you.

Thank you for everything. Thank you for the little “I love you” notes. Thank you for always having that perfect “quote.” Thank you for being an amazing grandmother. Thank you for believing in me and dreaming the bigger dream. And thank you for daring me to dream that bigger dream.

And thank you for being on that journey… my greatest gift is that I get to work with you every single day. And what days they are!

I love you more than anything. And I can’t wait to give you a big hug today!!

Happy Mother’s Day!

- Audrey

Hey, DIY… there’s nothin’ like a dame

I think it was Oscar Hammerstein who wrote, “There Is Nothing Like a Dame.”

Go ahead, sing along.

Or better yet, tell it to the DIY Network. ‘Cuz it recently held the America’s Most Desperate Landscape Contest, where people from all over the country entered photos and videos for the chance at a total landscape makeover of their front yard.

Last I counted, there had to about 10,000 entries.

And the 4 finalists who ended up on the Today Show yesterday morning for The Landscape Challenge?

4 guys. 4 young guys at that.

Hey, DIY. What about the dames? Don’t you think we DIO(urselves)?

Come on, guys. There had to be hundreds, perhaps thousands of women who entered the contest…

And this is not to say that Kevin from Florida, Chris from Ohio (who ended up winning), Mark from California and Shawn from Pennsylvania weren’t personable and as cute as chirruping chiggers. They were. (Well, I speak in an old dame kind-of way because these guys are all young enough to be my sons.)

But I’ve been driving a sit-down mower since before these guys were born. And DoingItMyself.

Leaf blowing. Watering in an accurate fashion. And even sod rolling. The old-fashioned DIMyself way, tilling a little bit of civilization with each year.

This old gal has raked, plowed, planted, sowed and reaped. And I guess I just needed a rest as my landscape got a bit more desperate. That’s why I entered the America’s Most Desperate Landscape Contest in the first place.

Of course I know that contests are contests, subject to all kinds of decision-making machinery and analytical judgments. I understand that sometimes there are principles that defy rules. I know that a rationale can be created for just about anything. But I admit a twinge of disappointment when I was not among the chosen. OK, I am a woman scorned.

Or thorned, as this case may be.

But Jason and DIY? Not one. Not two. Not even three. But four young, strong, happy, cute guys?

What about the gals? I personally live on the DIY Network. I love it. It loves me. (Well, until now.) My daughters love it. My friends love it. I mean, where else would I so handily find out about the Coolest Tools around, like the Senco Finish Pro pneumatic nailer… 600 nails from one battery. Wow. The Frontgate Outdoor Solar Wireless Speaker that I’m getting my hubby for Father’s Day. (Sorry, Honey… surprise ruined if you are reading this blog). Or one of my favorites, my 4″ Angel EasyClean Paintbrush.

Yes, it is easy. And yes, I DIM(yself). Paint, that is.

So DIY Network, what about the dames? We, too, find landscaping and gardening a discovery of our very strength. We too find the challenges of the soil challenges of our minds. We rock… literally.

I am woman. Hear me roar.

So at least, next time, let me roar up a John Deere.

- Sharon

Wherein I go on a Dyson tangent

I have a bone to pick with this guy:

You know him, he’s the Dyson Vacuum inventor. Sir James Dyson, to be exact.

But I like to call him Sir D, because it makes him sound like a rapper, and that’s cool.

Not so cool? Sir D has led me astray in my domestic duties.

I first started to hear a lot of good things about the Dyson about 4 years ago, right around the time I got engaged and was starting to think about my our wedding registry.

I’ll admit that I was wooed by the hoopla surrounding the whole “no bag” thing. I would always forget to replace the bag of my old vacuum, and by the time I remembered, it just wasn’t a good scene.

Besides that, I would always forget to buy new vacuum bags (things like food and other basic human necessities were at the top of my shopping list, shockingly) so if I actually did remember to change it, I would be out of luck (well, more so my dirty rugs than me, I guess).

In the commercials, Sir D would say that sure, the current vacuum models were great and all, but (and this was the important thing) they had ONE design flaw - they lost suction.

But because of his innovation - the bagless vacuum - all would now be right in the world.

Plus, he had a British accent, which automatically meant he knew what he was talking about. And that Sir title didn’t hurt his credibility. (I’m easily impressed like that.)

So, pretty much convinced that Sir D had solved the world’s big puzzle - and already addicted to registering for just about anything and everything at Target - I put the Dyson on my our registry.

I mean, he had solved THE vacuum design flaw, right?

And I we did receive the Dyson as a shower gift, thanks to my mother-in-law. I was all gung-ho about using it at first, and I was pleased with how it worked, although carrying that heavy sucker up and down the stairs was no easy task.

However, with two big dogs, which equaled big time shedding, which equaled increased amount of vacuuming, I started to notice that it just wasn’t living up to its suctioning promises when it came to the dog hair.

Lo and behold, around that same time, they released a Dyson specifically created for use on pet hair. Unwilling to shell out $500 for a new vacuum when I we had just received one, I sucked it up (as it were) and only cursed Sir D internally for not coming out with the pet hair model before I we registered for our wedding.

But hey, if they already mastered that ONE design flaw, I thought, why would they even need a whole ‘nother vacuum just for pet hair?

Just sayin’.

OK, so a few years have gone by now and I’ve been mildly happy with my Dyson.

My husband and I did have to send it back to Dyson once because it wasn’t picking anything up… when it came back, it worked better for a few weeks, and then went to being so-so. Which was better than picking up nothing, but not great.

Honestly, though, it was too much of a hassle to get people back on the phone and have to send it back/wait for its return again.

I had just kind of resigned myself to the fact that it seemed everyone else loved their Dyson but me. But what could I do? Sir D had made THE FLAWLESS vacuum!

So imagine my surprise when I heard Sir D’s voice from my television the other day, talking about how for hundreds of years, vacuum cleaners have had, “ONE fundamental design flaw.”

Old news! I thought.

But nooooo! He was talking about a NEW fundamental design flaw… the fixed axle that only allows vacuums to go in a straight line. So he has now created the Dyson Ball vacuum, which operates with one big ball - no wheels - allowing the vacuum to “pivot on the spot.”

He compares it to a computer mouse, which has a ball on the bottom so it can easily travel anywhere.

OK, I get that. But the absolute kicker in this commercial is when he says this line: “I mean, you wouldn’t make a computer mouse with wheels, would you?”

Of course I wouldn’t, Sir D. That would be silly!

But YOU DID make a vacuum with wheels. Remember that one!? The one that was supposed to be the be-all-end-all of vacuums.

I mean, I understand that things evolve and the need for new things comes about… but I remember in one of his original commercials, he said that he had gone through about 5,000 vacuum prototypes before he finally cracked the code in creating the perfect cyclone for his bagless vacuum.

Never once during those 5,000 failures did his team think, “Hey! Maybe there isn’t just ONE design flaw to be working on?”

I mean, going through 5,000 prototypes must have taken awhile.

I’m just thinking that maybe a light bulb could have gone off in someone’s head a little sooner.

OK, end rant. Consider bone picked.

Thanks for listening. I’m off to vacuum some dog hair.

- Jane

Big Ben. And I mean, Franklin.

We visited Philadelphia 3 weeks ago to see the Star Wars exhibit that was being run at the Franklin Institute. Afterwards we brought the kids to see the Liberty Bell and to a couple of other spots that we thought they may get a kick out of…

(OK, more for my husband and I to see.)

But we came across a HUGE statue of Ben Franklin. And William and Alex thought it was so “cool.”

My husband explained to them who he was. And that was that.

So I thought…

When we were driving my mother back to her house last night, William mentioned Ben Franklin to my mother. He said “Grandma, did you know that he has the same name as my brother? But Ben Franklin is not 1 like Benjamin and he’s not 3 like me.”

So innocently my mother asked, “Well, who is Ben Franklin?”

(Imagine our surprise.)

William goes… “He had a kite with a key. And he was shocked with lightening outside. And it made e-rect-tricity. I really like him because now we can watch TV and see in the dark.”

Not bad my big man, not bad!

- Audrey

A River of Song…

A beautiful baby boy will be born today. Or perhaps tomorrow.

He will come to his family, and to our world, in joy of his meeting… and in the sadness of his leaving.

He is Sawyer, the infant son of Heather and Trent and the baby brother of Hunter and Ashlyn. And as so many of us do, we know sweet baby Sawyer in words only. The sacred and loving words of his mom, Heather, from Mom4Life.

Heather shared the unbearable heartache that Sawyer, at 36 weeks, no longer had a heartbeat. Labor will be induced today.

Heather writes that she is thankful to have known Sawyer. To have named him. And through her strength and her words, I am thankful too.

I see Sawyer as a River of Song, borrowed from a favorite book of mine, filled with the depth and breadth of music, narrative, lyrics, poetry and photography that only a boy named Sawyer could invoke in me. I see Sawyer as a boy of adventure and play… authoritatively brilliant in words and in spirit.

I see Sawyer as what his strong name means. As a riverboat pilot would know. I will always see Sawyer as a grand tree in my river of song with its branches reaching and stretching toward the surface, and the sky, moving sometimes in great speed, other times in gentle ripples… always with the current.

It is a miracle of this age that one woman with one computer is able to create a river of song with which to touch virtual strangers… thousands of strangers who will ride this river at this sad time.

And forever.

I will never again see a stream, a current, a river without thinking of Sawyer.

Our deepest and most heartfelt thoughts and prayers are with Heather, Trent, Hunter, Ashlyn and Sawyer today. May sweet baby Sawyer fill his family, and our world, with the peace and healing and strength that he is sent to bring.

- Sharon