I’m not your typical wife. I don’t put limits on David. He wants to go hunting….go and bring us back a bird. He wants to go fishing…please bring me back a Mako shark. He wants to take overtime…please take the night shift so I can work and also have the remote control at night.

Last week two fire fighters lost their lives in Boston. It’s not the first time and certainly not the last. By the time David and I got engaged, eons ago, he had been electrocuted, dropped 20 feet in a “training” exercise and been in numerous situations that should turn my hair straight.

I will never forget the call I got, at work, saying David was fine. I replied, of course he is not realizing that he had been at a fire (off duty) and the power line going to the house had burnt but was still live. And fell onto his helmet. He was flown 20 feet with only the fire engine stopping his trajectory. I left work and went home to let the dog out. I thought he was at the hospital. Imagine my surprise to find him on the couch. Smelling burnt. Wondering why the heck I was home early. By the way, he smelt burnt for almost a week.

A few years later came 9/11. When I sat home alone and watched the coverage of the World Trade Center heroes and victims. He was at the Station in case something happened in Boston. I sat at home, tears falling, realizing just what I was getting into planning a wedding to a fire fighter. 

Then the Marathon Bombing happened. Numerous fires happened. All the time I realized that as much as David loves me and the girls he loves his calling more. He is a fire fighter. He is the only person I know who is doing what he said his dream was in kindergarten.  

This week David will be attending the funerals and wakes of two men who gave their lives to save the innocent.  Men he never met but who were his brothers. Ed Walsh, a lieutenant who left three children under the age of ten and Mike Kennedy a Marine Vet who survived our Country in more ways than one.

A friend asked me if I was okay. I was surprised and answered I didn’t know the men who died. In truth I never listen to the scanner. I never wonder if David will be okay. 

I am a fire fighter’s wife who understands that the call to duty is not necessarily to my own. But that is the man I adore. The man who will answer the call to save someone’s life. The man who will leave when I am putting dinner on the table or a short skirt on for date night. The man who as much as he loves his family will put us second to his first duty…

To save others.

May peace be with the families left behind.

Sometimes I get done. Just done. I’m not a hero. I am not a saint. I am just a mom. Sometimes just being mom seems to be too much to ask. I lose my temper. I lose my cool. I lose where I put my keys. 

I am never prepared for what will take the floor from beneath my legs. I think I have it handled and then BOOM. I am back in warrior mom mode.


Boo has had a fantastic year. She really has. She has come so far. She has made friends. Been to birthday parties. Learned her name, her age, address and (most) colors. She can count to four (more with Abby prompting). She has become (somewhat) toilet trained. She asks for her therapists, she wants to see her teachers. She stole Abby’s stuffed rabbit (hello, milestone!).

Recently Boo was referred to a neuro-urologist. Fancy title who knew that discipline existed? His mom must be so proud. He was great, all kidding aside. Older, beyond knowledgeable and respected. Here is what concerned me: Boo’s GI had contacted him throughout the years asking his opinion on Boo’s stomach issues. Boo’s GI did not refer me to this doctor. Her pediatrician did, after I saw GI and she said that Boo’s funny smelling urine (too much info, I understand) should be seen since that is not what she treats. Also Boo has been complaining about stomach pain but is on the maximum dose of reflux meds. Maybe there is something else going on.

For years? Since she began toileting? If this GI doctor, whom I respect and trust, has been consulting this other doctor why didn’t she refer us earlier! Why is it left to me, the mom without a medical degree, to find the best neuro-urologist in the State and get referred? Why do I have to then call the GI and tell them to write a note of referral? 

I take Boo to see this uber-urologist. He asks if she has ever had an MRI. I explain, yes that is how they found the tethered cord. She had spinal surgery in 2011. His reply, oh with her lack of bladder/bowel control and toe walking I am wondering if her cord is tethered. Since it has been surgically untethered there is a concern that it has reattached itself. WHAT!!! Sure it is rare that it might have reattached. But this is Bridgetitis we are talking about.

It gets better….as he reviews the 2011 MRI he states to the medical student do you see she only has one kidney? Now, I am not a mom with a medical degree but I do know that most children come with two kidneys. This is not something a doctor should announce to the unsuspecting parent. 

But wait…there it is! They found the missing kidney. But they are unsure if Boo’s spinal cord has reattached itself to her bladder. In June she will have to go for more testing. Invasive testing. While not painful it will require me holding her down for yet another test.

I sometimes wonder when does it stop? To the uninitiated it seems okay, it is just one more test. To those who have never had to hold their child down during a medical procedure I say whatever God you believe in to Bless you and yours. I hope you never have to experience these feelings. But me? I’m kind of losing faith. I am heartsick and tired of getting to the comfortable part of being Boo’s parent to being the parent who has to bear witness to her pain.

I do not understand how God could let my friend’s child have cancer. I do not understand how Boo who is the most precious of children has to suffer such pain. I do not understand why a parent who has never willingly harmed her child has to hold their child down while others do. Lab draws, catheters, ultrasounds, surgeries, therapies and the list goes on.

When, dear Lord, does it stop?

I am not a hero. I am not looking for some one to say, there there it will be okay. Because it won’t. Being Boo’s parent doesn’t make me a hero or a warrior. Any parent would do and feel the same.

It’s just sometimes I wish I was Abby’s mom. Cause that is a hell of a lot easier.

It is that time of the week to look back and give thanks. I haven’t done so in quite some time. Not that I haven’t been thankful but just that I have been to overwhelmed to sit back and say,

Thanks for not kicking my ass this week.


It was debatable. That’s for sure. There were times when I said (out loud) I’m done. Just stick a fork in me and call me burnt. Burnt worse than an Irish woman in Aruba without a base tan (been there, have the t-shirt).

But per Lizzi this is not the post for bitching but for being grateful. So here I go….

1. I am thankful I have a job. Because you know I have to pay the mortgage.
2. I am thankful for popcorn. Because as corn is a veggie and butter a dairy that means dinner last night had two of the recommended food groups.
3. I am thankful for Kristi who takes my calls and answers my HOLY CRAP I AM LOSING IT texts. 
4.I am thankful for the doctor who says, oh there is the kidney after telling me (mistakenly) that Boo was missing one.
5. I am thankful for Abby’s school for embracing the idea of Special Needs Awareness Month (more on that later).
6. I am thankful for Kate and her ability to put into words how much she loves her dad.
7. I am thankful for Boo’s therapists who laughed their asses off with me during paint night where we forgot about finding our strength and instead found our hotness.
8. I am thankful for Tia. The one who loves and accepts me and gives me her honest opinion at all times.
9. I am thankful for Dana who told me about the Outlander series. I am hooked and have been enthralled each night as I make my way through the series (currently on book 3).

And finally 10….I am thankful for my girls. The ones who are currently sleeping and dreaming the dreams of the innocent.

Sunday cannot come quick enough. I know you are thinking Friday. Friday night is the time we wait to arrive. Some time ago, when we were once again late for school Abby had this idea about the weekend. That they just were not long enough. After spending most of my weekend cleaning, shopping, cooking and doing laundry I have a different opinion.

When I leave for work on Monday morning this is the view in my kitchen:

How the hell is that possible? That in just three days my kitchen goes from Martha Stewart to kitchen of the depraved. I walked into the house tonight, shuddered and thought what kid of people live in this squalor? At least I have proof that the fruit was consumed.

So I cannot wait until Sunday morning. When I can walk into my kitchen and not shudder.