We took the kids to Don Lehr's memorial service on Saturday and said our final goodbyes. I have been talking to them on and off over the last month about how he died and what it means to die, exactly. They all felt some disbelief, initially, that a father of kids their age could be dead. Lily and Liam were mostly silent, as is their general composure during awkward or emotional times, but Benjamin has thought very openly about this loss and has shared with me, many a night lately, his questions about Don. Most recently he became very concerned with the idea of a heart transplant, like what the hospital ("hossipal") would have done with the "old, broken heart" and how they would have put the new heart in and kept Mr. Lehr breathing in between. Then his thoughts migrated to Don's possessions, like for instance, his deoderant (do not ask me- I have no idea). Ben was perplexed as to what Sharon would do with Don's deoderant- would she throw it away if there was still a lot left in the bottle? or could she sell it- an idea that Ben found personally fulfilling.

The Sombars all did pretty well at the service- Seth, of course, behaving as most one-year-olds and squawking loudly through the first half then beaning some poor old man in front of us on the head with a paper fan (the church had no a/c). Ben spent some time pondering the events then decided that rolling down the pew was a better way of contemplating and remembering our friend. Lily and Liam illustrated many of the churches tithing envelopes (appropriately, thank goodness, with mostly christian themes- like crosses and people praying)- all the while hoping that their mother didn't do anything crazy like speak during open-mic time or sob uncontrollably or begin singing out loud with the band. Tom did the traditional "father-strolling-outside-with the baby who is screaming-routine" and I tried not to fall apart completely- kids really hate to see their parents cry- but there were moments of such sorrow, where the depth of the loss to my pal Sharon, the girls, and Don's other loved ones was so cavernous in its display, that I couldn't help myself.

There were funny parts to the evening, too- Don had requested in his will that there be a party, not a funeral, for him, so the street he lived on was baracaded and filled with tents and lots of food & drink- swell idea if Pittsburgh was not experiencing monsoon-level rains. As the storm hit, with all of the lightening and thunder, many of us were smiling thinking that Don was having a great laugh seeing the masses of us run squealing into his home- he had a remarkable sense of humor. There were amazing rainbows, which have come many times since the day he died, as a sign to Sharon that he was at peace. There were kids everywhere- happy and content to get wet, climb the trees (not during the storm), swing, run in the street, hoola-hoop, and gorge themselves on pop and cake (that would be the children related to me, of course). All in all, we celebrated a terrific man and my kids got to see the end of a life being carried out in a most honorable and joyous way.

Saturday morning, June 28th, I legally became "Judy Sombar," bidding a fond farewell to my birth name of "Ollerenshaw." While, under many circumstances (including within my community and on this blog) I have been known solely as a "Sombar" (for convenience), I remained officially tied to the old me on my driver's license and medical records. Back in the mid-nineties, a couple of years before taking our vows, but knowing we would someday, Tom and I had a long talk about our names and the significance of them. We spoke of who would take on whose name and why- Tom making the argument that "Sombar" needed an heir in order to survive, as it was a made up title by his paternal great-grandfather (when he first immigrated to the States from Russia and didn't want it to be obvious that he was a foreigner). I retorted that "Ollerenshaw" was also rare and needed to be carried on (though I've since discovered that it is actually very common, especially in its native Wales)- so we said we'd wait to see if there were any boy "Sombars" born before our wedding, to other members of his family (there weren't).

I was never opposed, per se, to adopting my husband's name (I love him and it had nothing to do with my feelings for him), nor to the custom in our country which has made that the presumed but not necessary path for the bride. I have plenty of liberal friends who gave up their maiden names, and a number who have not. I have one friend who demanded that she and her husband combine names- which is the best of both worlds, in my opinion, but a little ridiculous for us when my own was eleven letters long by itself (Ollerenshaw-Sombar: ha ha ha). I must admit, that for the longest time, I hesitated, mostly because of my own sense of independence and wanting to remain within the identity I'd worked on so hard for twenty-seven years. I liked being an "Ollerenshaw" or "JudyO" as I was known by back then. And there was a big part of me, I think, that feared I would lose that woman if I adopted someone else's name. I had struggled and accomplished much as Judy Ollerenshaw and it felt as if I were erasing all of that by becoming someone else. So I didn't.

Now that I have four children, however, and I've become more secure in the life that I have built as a mother, a task harder than imagined at first (the isolation of being at home, and without a career that gave me more tangible rewards, was difficult to accept for a while), I feel strongly about having the "Sombar" name attached to mine. The most important part of my being are these humans that my husband and I gave life to, and more than anything I've ever strived for, I am proud to identify myself, by name, with them.

Lily came home last night at 10:30 wearing the biggest smile on her face- she'd braved two roller coasters, riding one of them four times in a row! I was so proud, I couldn't stop gushing and hugging her- telling her that she could think of anything in the world that scared her and she could conquer it- no problem- and you could tell that she felt that deep in her bones and was so happy.

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do." Eleanor Roosevelt

My ten year-old daughter, Lily,
is going to an amusement park tomorrow with some of her friends from school. When she first accepted the invitation, I was thrilled for her, assuming, of course, that she would be filled with excitement to spend a day whirling around the skies of Western PA on a bevy of different rides, accompanied by her shrieking buds. In the days to follow, however, she confessed to a horrible bout of anxiety over her fear of roller coasters and the like. Wanting to save her from such agony, which I know all too well myself, I quickly launched into a soliloquy of cliches and soothing words, assuring her that she could either wait on the side-lines with a parent- if the other girls hopped on something she was afraid of or she could simply back-out of going at all. Pondering these choices, she left the room, exclaiming that she would get back to me with her decision. Sometime the next night she went to her father and quietly asked if he would take her to the amusement park, just the two of them, so she could somehow garner the courage beforehand, to get on the rides which frightened her the most. A little while later she said to me "Mommy, I don't want to be afraid of those things anymore- I want to go and do this so I can have fun."

So right now, on this chilly Pittsburgh eve, in her most amazing style of courage and gumption, my daughter is braving the amusement park, alone with her Daddy, facing her fears head-on, so tomorrow, amidst the laughter and silliness of her girlfriends, she can soar through the air with a smile.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering
experience…
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….
You’re not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing everyday that scares you
Sing
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.
Floss
Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes
you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself.
Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…
what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever
own..
Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good.
Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard;
live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you.
Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than
it’s worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen…

We spent Wednesday celebrating Sethy's first birthday- which was really exciting for everyone, especially the kids who love him so much. We (the kids and I) went to the pool and hung out for a couple of hours- Seth loved to splash and jump- then he fell asleep on my shoulder. Lily baked a cake and the boys enjoyed decorating it with icing and a variety of sprinkles (in the end the unanimous opinion was that it resembled a golf course).
Then there was the traditional cake plunge- as only a one-year-old can do with such fervor and lack of grace.
Seth kept alternating between laughter and looking at me as if I'd been witholding some sort of utopia from him his whole life.....just before bedtime, Gramma and Grampa gave him a big red wagon

(and yes, we are well aware that this may just be the instrument of death if his brother Ben decides to pull him down the hill of our cul-de-sac).

It is hard for me to imagine that 365 days have passed since his very harrowing birth.
He is such a unique spirit- very content to be held or to crawl around, and he has a fantastic sense of humor. He tolerates a lot of chaos, at the hands of his brothers, and will play for a long time with Lily- doing hide n' seek and dramas of her creation. We don't have any unusual nicknames for him like for the first three, "Sethy" seems to have stuck as the label of choice, though my father calls him "Lollipop" and Tom, every once in a while, will call him "Buh" (Buh? what kind of term is that exactly?).

Sometimes I dare to imagine what my life would have been like if I'd been content with having three children- there would be more free time during my days and I certainly would be able to think of a hundred ways in which to use it. But there is a hopefullness and joy that comes out of the presence of a baby in one's household- the ability to experience the newness that is their every milestone- the wonder of balloons and kitty cats and someone saying "BOO." He takes hold of every minute of his existence and swallows it whole- making the most of cool watermelon, the laughter of his siblings, and baby cones from Bruesters. Babies are the experts and the wise sages of living in the NOW and I am recovering my own sense of miracles from being with him these days.

Happy Birthday lovely boy.

When the nightmare of my current existence began, seven-weeks ago, as I attempted to withdraw from an anti-depressant I'd been prescribed just two weeks prior, I knelt at the foot of my boys' bunk beds, sobbing, nauseated, head pounding like I'd never felt in my whole life...and I prayed...out loud...breathing hard..."please Jesus- take this from me- please take it away- I can't do this anymore." and then nothing happened. and then it got worse. and then I didn't want to live anymore and I didn't care about God...all I knew is that he'd abandoned me- or he didn't exist at all- and I was on the verge of something awful.

but now that the light has come back into my world and the "now" isn't so urgent and mind-blowing, there are the footprints of Jesus everywhere in my life and my faith, though changed, is having a sort of rebirth. From the central air-conditioning (which was being installed, for eight LONG DAYS, during that whole nightmare of withdrawal), to the sweat from my walks with my friend, to the echoes of "i love you mommy" from my rebellious and defiant five year-old, to the nurturing from friends, to my parents (who were coming for an impromptu visit, not knowing this was happening), to having the courage to face the world again, to the program my insurance didn't want to cover, to my husband's willingness to be home, to our going without pay for so long and still not being homeless, to my daughter's kisses and Liam's nuzzles, to Seth letting me leave everyday without crying and making me feel more guilty than I already do...these have all GOT to be signs that there is love there beyond my comprehension, just getting me through, moment-by-moment.

and with that- i'm off to bed- feeling thankful and determined to wake up tomorrow, noticing more that is good and sacred in my life.

I spent some time with each of my three big kids, one-on-one, today. Weekends are nice because Tom's presence gives me that opportunity, which I miss terribly during the Monday through Friday grind. Liam, Tom and I played two rounds of "Clue," while Sethy slept, Ben braved the slip n- slide, and Lily watched a movie. Then Benjamin and I played about seven rounds of "Perfection," with me screaming each and every time the timer went off and the pieces flew up in the air (I scare easily, apparently- much to the delight of my children). Finally, Lily had been begging for a "mommy and Lily date" so I took her to the mall and we did a little shopping. I had a lot of fun being with her- we bought a gumball when we first walked in (I'm still such a kid). I had an urge to hold her hand, but, at the last minute thought it better to ask, since she's ten and has a reputation to uphold (ha ha ha). Luckily for me, Lily hasn't come to the conclusion,yet, that mothers are uncool- and for that, today, I feel so blessed.

My three crazy "big kids"

I got my happy slappy out of bed this a.m. and took a long walk with a dear friend who has experienced an enormous hardship recently. The beauty of her presence by my side as we shared our fears and sorrows was remarkable to me and I thanked God for the opportunity to be with her and to witness her unbelievable courage. While our current lives are filled with questions and doubts, on very different levels, (hers more substantial than my own), it was wonderful to be able to validate her and feel her support at the same time. I am looking forward to healing alongside this woman in the days to come and I treasure our growing friendship. Sometimes, when life deals you a tough hand, the thing you really need the most is for someone to say "what you are going through is terrible, and I'm sorry" instead of "here is the answer" or "don't worry, it will be okay." Because sometimes its not okay and in the moment that you are experiencing what you fear the most, you just want someone to say- "yeah- this sucks...let it out...i want to hear you...let's talk about it.."

Who new how fun a blow-up pool and an old little tykes' house could be? Here is a photo to demonstrate this plan, as illustrated by Ben and his "wife" Molly....

Ah....summertime in the burbs...

I've got these uber creative kids (especially Lily and Liam) who are constantly coming up with the most interesting things, which make me smile, and sometimes really laugh. For example, here is a couch that Lily made for her baby brother out of a box from Costco....

And then there's Liam, whose new favorite store is Michael's. A couple of weeks ago I took he and Lily there and let them pick any craft item they wanted- Liam chose a huge bucket of Crayola Model Magic. I figured it would last at least a day...ha!
it didn't even make it through the hour...here's what he did... Yep, he used it all, in about five minutes. but he loved his creation and I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

I haven't been honing any of my creative skills lately...part of the funk I'm in or actually, just the reality of being a mother and not having enough time. I may have to go digging for a Michael's coupon in the paper Sunday- and go there, ALL BY MYSELF, and see what I can find to play around with...maybe some clay or a set of new paint pens...

In her book, The Artist's Way, Julia Cameron guides readers through different steps of healing and self-awareness, at one point suggesting that you take your inner-child shopping with $5.00 and just let loose- choosing stickers and a new box of crayons or the like. If you haven't read the book before, check it out- even the non-artsy of you would take something from this one.

One step back...that's the way I feel tonight. This journey is such a roller coaster and it is exhausting. Just when I think I may be normal...BAM...I end up in bed with the covers pulled up, wishing I could stay there forever. I came home this afternoon feeling pretty alive but Seth had a fever again and my house was 85 degrees (Tom insisted we delay turning on our new central air for the first time- he had some grand fantasy of making it to July 1st before flipping the switch-need I say more?). For a while I did what appeared to be some stellar parenting, then I towed the line- until I crashed- Tom calling to say he'd be an hour late coming home- nothing short of a nightmare when I was already counting the minutes until his arrival.

A friend talked to me today about just being present in the moment, accepting whatever I was feeling at the time I was feeling it, knowing that "this too shall pass." It sounded good at the time, but putting that kind of conscious effort into practice is a whole other ballgame. There is this fear that grips my soul, that spreads through my innermost core, telling me that I'm never going to be the same again- that life is always going to be a struggle and that maybe my ability to parent the children I helped to create, and love so very much, is gone...my strength depleted. Logically, I understand that these are temporary symptoms,which at some point will cease to exist, but in my heart, I'm just treading water, hoping that the waves of doubt hurry up and calm down.

Now for my gratitude list- which is what makes my misery take a backseat ( at least for as long as my fingers are on these keys):

I am ever grateful for all of the support in my life which helps me to press on during the worst of times...my parents who make it possible for me to have the time I need to heal and who take such wonderful care of their grandchildren, my husband who knows what I'm made of and who refuses to allow me to quit, for Donna and Val who keep the meals coming from all the awesome friends who want to provide for us (and who have showered us with an enormous amount of nourishing food themselves), for the extra nurturing from Kim, who covered my hair appointment and left me speechless, for Natasha (and Rich) who know me completely and have my back at all times, for Haley who gives my son a haven on a daily basis and makes a fine pulled pork, for my sistah Wendy and my other Maryland friends (and Virginians- Nancy, Yvette and Lisa McGrail!) who are scared and call or write with reassurance, for Christina who never hesitated to show up (and whose letter brought me unspeakable comfort), to Val (and Karin) for the gift cards-cleaning lady-cheesecake-flowers-favorite magazines and play dates, for Jen E. who remembered my kids with the package from their cousins, for Mary Anne and her buddy Brenda who knew what I needed that Sunday in the hotel and got me to the hospital in one piece (via two very long telephone conversations and a very nervous husband), for Lila & co. with the mystery message cake, Casey for giving birth to Ella, my future daughter-in-law (ha ha), for our "kindergarten" friends- Stacie, Carrie, Bonnie, The Mane Family- where in the world would we be without you?, for Missy C.- you know why, and for all the folks in my program who've walked a mile in these shoes and who tread this path alongside me, most mornings, with great trepidation and determination...

I owe you all everything I've got and I feel that, intensely, every minute of the day.

I told Val this afternoon, when she dropped Ben off from his play date with her kids, that although I've been making meals for people for a long time now, I never knew the power that they had or the love that they conveyed until I needed them so badly myself. Never, ever underestimate your ability to change the lives of people around you in need- even the most trivial things make such a difference.

"Do no great things, only small things with great love." Mother Teresa

My 11 month old son, Seth, has been sick these past few days, struggling to be his jovial silly self while enduring fever and some pain, no doubt. He got me up this morning a little after 4, so I brought him into my bed and held him, skin-to-skin, nursing him for a while, then just stroking his legs while he ventured back into dreamland. Trying to stay present in the moment, I breathed in the sweetness of this little being, while the rain poured and thunder roared outside my open window...and i was in love with life and it felt so good.



The normally silly seth sombar

I haven't had a lot of downtime on my computer recently...working hard to get well, in my program, then coming home to parent and rest. One of my favorite things to do, when I've got some spare moments (LOL) is just goof around on google, researching old friends or miscellaneous facts about far-out topics).

I spent some good soul-nourishing hours with my friend Stacey today, firmly planted on her corduroy sectional (the color of my favorite crayola crayon- burnt sienna), eating sinfully delicious baked goods (homemade pineapple coconut cake and lemon bars), laughing about my chaos and hospital experience(instead of crying, which I've done enough of lately), waxing philosophic about Eckhart Tolle, and debating the San Antonio real estate market (she's moving there- whatever will I do?). We also talked of careers (past and future) and personality traits. I was reminded of a time when Jen Lemen and I sat in her living room and took the Meyers-Briggs personality test online and found out we had the same letters (ENFJ) and laughed about that-she and I often wiled away the days, digging deep into our true selves. So, I thought I might goof around with some of those tests again tonight, if I get a minute to myself.

Here are some websites Stacey came up with, if you are interested:
www.personalitypage.com
keirsey.com/personality
personalitytest.net

I've been walking through my neighborhood, in the early hours of the morning, partly to instill some consistent method of fitness into my routine, partly to just have a routine (I am not a morning person, to say the least). Today I forgot my glasses, so I spent two miles seeing blurs of life around me, which, due to my familiarity with the territory, wasn't really a problem. But I did find myself mistaking several gentleman along my path with our friend Don, and each time, I felt my heart sinking into my gut, knowing the great delusion of it all-knowing that Don wasn't there, and that he never would be... again. I could almost hear him calling after me "JUDITH!!", as he always used to do, and I hoped with all of my being that the whole thing was a lie- that he was still at Presby [hospital], getting better, and waiting for his transplant.

For several days after his death, I kept checking and rechecking his website, to make sure I hadn't misread the news, wanting it not to be final. How could a man with such life be gone? That's not the way its supposed to work...At first I didn't cry- I just sat at my computer and stared. Then one night, when the house was quiet, I ran into the bathroom and sobbed into a towel, hurting for the girls and Sharon and our community, missing such a great great person (of course, then every one of my three older children began banging furiously on the door- "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMY- I HAVE TO PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE", "MOMMMMMMY, what are you doing in there?" "MOMMMY, when are you going to be out of there- I REALLY HAVE TO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! [ WE HAVE 3 BATHROOMS PEOPLE- NO WONDER I'M INSANE!!!!!!!!!!!]).

I figure that this is the work of grief- this checking and rechecking and disbelief. And maybe after his party...acceptance.

Despite the struggles in my life of late, I am still finding times where I feel nothing but pure joy at the hands of my wonderful children. Here are some photos I wanted to share of the wedding ceremony between Benjamin, my five year-old, and our neighbor Molly, "the older woman", who is nine (sneaking her communion gown and veil out of the house for the occasion). Liam was the ring bearer, Georgina (another neighbor) the flower girl, and Lily, the priest. They both took vows, amidst much laughter, promising to be "lovedfully married husband and wife," then they hugged (no spit was swapped whatsoever). Enjoy.

I'm in this program right now- during the day- and sometimes I get some morsels of wisdom that I think are worth sharing. This is one of them.

Letting Go
To let go doesn't mean to stop caring
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization that I can't control another.
To let go is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
I can only change myself.
To let go is not to care for,
But to care about
To let go is not to fix
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to effect their own outcomes.
To let go is not to be protective,
it is to permit another to face reality
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept
To let go is not to nag, scold, or argue,
but to search out my own shortcomings and to correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes.
To let go is not to criticize and regulate anyone,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To let go is to fear less and love more.