To the Nurses of the Burn Center


I am once again at a complete loss for words. Over the last nine weeks you have had under your care the gentlest person I know. She is the glue that ties our family together. She is the backbone of steel that can offer the most comforting embrace. She is my mom and she means the world to me.


It was nine weeks ago this morning that we first set eyes on you. And nine weeks ago (VERY EARLY) this morning that you first welcomed my mom into your unit. Over the past 63 days you have become part of our family. And we all feel that you have let us into YOUR family in a very real way. You have laughed with us and cried with us. You have hugged us and offered encouraging words. You have called on days off to check in on Mom. You have stayed late and stopped by just see how she is doing. You care. You care in a very real and personal way. This is not just a paycheck for you. This is your life and your heart and we are forever grateful. You tell us that we are a special family, and whenever I hear that, I reply with the simple fact that so very much of who we are as a family comes from Mom and her quiet spirit.


You have saved her life. Literally. There was no better place for her to be. Last night as I thanked you and we hugged, both with tears in our eyes, I felt overcome with thankfulness for the healing space she has been in and the love that each of you has shown her.


Today she moves on. She’s graduating on to Rehab. We will miss you so very much. It will feel foreign to walk down the hospital corridor and not take the elevator up to the fourth floor. I have no doubt that I will show up in your unit on autopilot at least a few times. I also have no doubt that you will continue to check in on Mom when she is in rehab.


Thank you. Thank you for my mom.



Dear Mom


Dear Mom,


Today is your 34th Mother’s Day as a mom. I know it’s never been a big day for us. This year is different. I really wanted to write an awesome post for you. I never got around to that post… I didn’t even make it down to see you, to pat your hand and squeeze your toes, and thank the nurses caring for you. I spent the day folding laundry, grocery shopping, collecting dirty socks from under the table, cleaning bathrooms, and thinking of you nonstop. And I have no idea what to say now. I love you so much. I miss you so much. We are so very alike, you and I. I hope that someday, Caroline and I will have a relationship like ours. The uncertainty of the future eats at me. I just want my mommy back. I want you back. You always know just what to say to me. No matter how low I feel, you have the right words in your soft gentle tones.


Just know that as I pretend that life goes on this week, my heart is with you.


Love,
Lizzie



Wordless Wednesday


Paper Dinos
In our house, we don’t do paper dolls… We do paper dinosaurs.



Wordless Wednesday


Problem


It’s 1 am. I’m awake… A combination of a few french fries and a small milkshake for dinner (Sooo hungry now!), the fact that I fell asleep at 8:30 when the kids went to bed, and the loud slumbering noises next to me…


What to do?


Ah-ha! The iPhone. Bejeweled. Just for a little bit, you know, until I get sleepy.


It’s 2 am. Where did that hour go?? I should probably quit and try to sleep. Just one more game…? Sure, why not! Ok. Last game. 35,000??? That’s a horrible score. Must play just one more… Ok. 69,000… Improving. But still not good. Hmmm. I should just keep playing as long as my scores keep improving. Yeah. That’s a good plan. 152,000. That’s a decent score. Doh! 90,000 on the next game. Guess I should stop now…? But, I don’t want to end on a bad note.


Just ONE more game.


It’s 2:30. I’m never going back to sleep, am I?