(edit- I’ve decided to stop taking donations for Funeral expenses. Firstly, I was blown away by the generosity. I honestly had no idea that much money would be raised. $1,205.00! You wonderful people never cease to amaze me with your goodness. Second– I believe we may be able to get a good portion of funeral expenses covered through a program designed for victims of crimes. It won’t cover it all, but I believe with what we’ve raised here and through the car washes, the family will not incur any debt over this horrific tragedy. I can’t thank you all enough. I plan on signing every single name of every person who donated to the card I will give the family this weekend. I simply can not thank you all enough. xoxo)
(updated- Julia made a great point- “Y — if they have enough money for the funeral, they may like to use our
donations for some kind of memorial to honor their son. That would be
nice too.” If you still *want* to give, you can still do so through my PayPal account at mamarosaATgmailDOTcom. Any and ALL money deposited into that account will go to the family.)
Last Friday night, I told my children that we were going to visit Mikey’s parents. (Read about Mikey here.)
I told them that they didn’t have to come if they weren’t feeling up to it. I wanted it to be their decision. If they went, I wanted it to be because thy wanted to be there, not because they were forced to be there.
They surprised me. In a good way.
“We want to go, Mom.” They said.
We drove over to their house, with a heavy heart. What do you say to a mother who lost her son to senseless violence? What do you say to a father who just lost his only son? There simply no words, nothing you can say.
All you can do is be there. Let them know you love them, you’re thinking of them, you’re crying with them and you’re so very very sorry.
I was glad my boys were mature enough to make the decision to be there for Mikey’s parents, even though it wasn’t easy, even though it was going to be painful.
“Sometimes, the right thing is the hardest thing.” I’ve always told my children that.
They get it.
We all stood in the walkway, waiting for his parents to come out. “They’re not up for it.” A family member told us. “We completely understand.” I responded. “Just give them this card and tell them we are thinking of them.”
He said he was going to tell them and he’d be right back.
“Sue is going to come out.” he said.
Sue is Mikey’s mother.
She opened the screen door and collapsed into my arms. I’m not exaggerating. She literally fell into my arms. I did my best to hold her up. She was sobbing. I was crying.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.” I said through my tears.
“I don’t understand. They shot my son in the chest. They left him to die on the concrete.” She wailed. “They won’t let me see my son.”
My husband and my children were standing behind us, as well as some other neighbors and their children. I could hear them all crying.
“And here, I was worried about the war.” She said. “He told me he wanted enlist, he wanted to be a man. I told him no! You’ll get killed!”
I held her up while she cried and wailed and spoke of her hurt, confusion, anger, sadness, unbelief.
It was one of the most *real* moments of my entire life.
When she was finally able to stand on her own, she let go of me and looked around. She saw my son, The Teenager. She walked over to him. “Oh, Andrew” She said as she embraced him tightly. “Mikey loved you so much.” She started to sob again. As did my son. “I loved him too, Susan. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”
I was heartbroken and yet, so very proud of my son. Proud that he chose to be there for his friend’s mother, even though it was painful and uncomfortable. Proud that he expressed how he was feeling so openly.
I think about that moment with Sue often throughout each day. I think of how broken she was, I think of how her life, her heart has been completely shattered. I can’t even begin to imagine how painful every waking minute of her days must be.
Although our pain doesn’t even compare to that of Sue and Pete, this situation has impacted our family in a profound way. We all feel as though we’ve lost a member of our family. Mikey was part of our lives, he was like family.
Every weekend, my boys were staying the night at his house, or he at ours. Almost every Saturday night, the boys would pile in The Astro Van for a short ride to Mikey’s to spend the night. It was a familiar scene to see our boys walking up the street early Sunday morning with bed head, a plastic bag filled with clothes and their pillows and blankets in hand.
He was at every single one of Andrew’s birthday parties.
I’m devastated he’ll never be at another.
Last weekend, a bunch of Mikey’s friends had a car wash to help raise funds for funeral expenses. They plan on doing another one this weekend. I’ve decided I’m going to try a little fundraising of my own here on this blog. I hate to ask for money from readers, but I hate to think of grieving parents struggling financial due to the expense of burying their child. I know that those of you who read here have generous and kind hearts. I know you’ll understand why I’m doing this.
I have not been asked by any family member to do this. I simply want to do whatever I can to help make their burden a bit easier. If you could find it in your hearts to give, I would be so grateful and I know that his parents will be as well.
I will take donations through Sunday, which is the day of the viewing.
Thank you in advance.
Category Archives: Raising Boys
.17.
This morning I woke up feeling mixed emotions.
On one hand, I was excited and proud.
On the other, I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
Every year, I write about the complex emotions I feel on this day. Every year I write about how bittersweet this day is. The day I became a mother.
17 years ago.
17 years.
Before I woke him up this morning, I studied his Almost a Man face. Not a trace of the little boy who I used to hold tightly in my arms. “He looks so much like his father now. Where did the time go?” I thought.
Then, strangely, all of his “firsts” came rushing to mind. His first breath, his first time sleeping through the night. His first tooth. His first steps. His first words. His first day in Kindergarten. Then, I thought of all of the firsts still to come. His first job, his first paycheck, his first broken heart.
How lucky I am. I have this incredibly kind, hilarious, talented son that I’ve had the pleasure of raising for the past 17 years. His possibilities are endless! His future is bright! It’s very exciting and I should be SO DAMN HAPPY.
And I am. I truly am.
At the same time… wasn’t it just yesterday that I was cradling him in my arms while rocking him to sleep? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were discussing who his favorite Power Ranger is? Now, we’re discussing prom and his future in law enforcement.
You can understand why my heart is so conflicted, yes?
By the time I climbed in the van to take The Birthday Boy to school, I was a bit of an emotional wreck. “My baby is almost a man! My heart can’t take this!” I thought to myself as I watched him climb into the car.
*****
“You need a haircut.” I said, as we were pulling up to the school.
“I can’t get one, mom.” he responded
“What do you mean you can’t get a haircut?”
“I made a bet.”
“A bet? Oh Lord…”
“If I get a bowl cut, Jordan is going to give me $10.”
I think I said something like “you realize if you get a bowl cut, you’ll have to shave your head to fix things, right?”
“I know, Mom.” He said, in a Very Annoyed Tone.
I wished him a Happy Birthday as he got out of the car.
“That pretty much sums up the experience of having a 17 year old son right there.” I thought to myself.
And then I laughed. And I laughed all the way home.
Because, my son is 17 years old. And while while 17 year olds think they’re so smart and know more than you do about life, he’s still just childlike enough to agree to a bet that involves GETTING BOWL CUT.
Happy Birthday, my sweet baby boy. I do love you more than you could possibly even begin to understand.
He Must Have Done The Math
This afternoon my son competed in his first ever drum competition finals.
There were 12 people in his division.
He beat them.
That’s right. My son was the winner!
Even though I thought he was the best, I had no idea what the judges would think. So, when they called his name, I screamed so loud. Then I apologized to the man sitting next to me for busting out his ear drums. And then I cried because MY SON WON.
I know how much this competition meant to him. I also know how he struggles with his confidence at times. So this win was huge on both fronts.
I’m happy to share his winning performance with you. Thanks to all of you who showed your support to him on this blog and on twitter. You’re the best.
But Ethan’s the best at drumming. Har.
( I apologize for the awful videography. I had The Nervous Shakes.)
The Finalist
One of my favorite episodes of The Office is the one where they play basketball in the warehouse. Do you know which episode I’m talking about? Yes? Okay. So, you know how Michael assumes Stanley is going to be really good? Because he’s black? But then Stanley gets the ball and he totally sucks and Michael is all “are you KIDDING ME?”
Well.
Tonight E played in his very first drum competition. There were 4 different divisions. In the last division (teens) There was a girl there who looked like a rocker. Big, spiked hair, ripped jeans, concert t-shirt. One look at her and I was all “She is gonna TEAR THAT SHIT UP.”
Then, she got on the drums.
I could not believe what happened.
She hit one drum at a time.
Dum. Dum. Dum.
Then again.
Dum. Dum. Dum.
Then again.
Dum. Dum. Dum.
I took out my phone and texted The Teenager who was standing right next to me. “I totally did a Michael Scott. I thought she was going to kick ass.”
“So did I.” he wrote back. And we both tried really hard not to laugh because, while there was nothing funny about what she was doing on the drums. (dum. dum. dum.) It was funny that we assumed she’d be all kinds of drum awesome because of how she looked.
Never judge a drummer by her hair! EVER!
Anyway.
What I REALLY wanted you to know is that my son made it to finals.
But so did the other 3 boys in his division, so that kind of sucked in that I couldn’t be all “IN YOUR FACE, OTHER DRUMMERS.” But, still. FINALS! We’re all very excited and proud. It was his first every competition and he did awesome. (Says his Mom.)
Next weekend.
I predict he wins.
Hopefully this is as bad as it gets.
When you have a child entering The Teenager Years, people like to tell you about how awful it is. How much hair you’re going to lose from the stress. How much you’ll want to slap the shit out of your once adorable little child because they will talk back! How scared you’ll be when you’re not home because they could be doing drugs! Or impregnating girls! Doing Graffiti on abandoned buildings! I understand those are all very real possibilities. I watched my own parents struggle with a son addicted to drugs. (He’s clean AND a minister now, so it all worked out.) To say I was dreading these years is an understatement. I was TERRIFIED.
My oldest is now 16 and guess what? It’s been easier than I ever imagined.
Until he went and got a girlfriend.
It’s not that he’s doing anything awful. He’s not. If he’s not home on the weekends, he’s at church, practicing with his band from youth group. Or at the movies with friends from church. He doesn’t talk back much more than any kid his age would. He’s never raised his voice to me. He’s never lied about where he’s at.
But the phone. Oh my God. THE PHONE.
He’s on the phone from the minute he gets home from school until the time he goes to bed. I have to fight with him to do homework because he’s too busy laying on his bed with the phone attached to his head. And if he’s not on the phone with her, he’s chatting with her online.
Monday night I had HAD ENOUGH. His father had told him to get off the phone at 8pm. At 9:45, The Middle Child came out of the room, annoyed that he couldn’t sleep because The Teenager was still on the phone. “Mom, can you PLEASE tell him to get off the phone?”
I was PISSED.
I walked down the hall, slammed his bedroom door open and told him to hand over the phone.
“When will I get it back?” He asked.
“Not tomorrow, that’s for sure.” I said.
He didn’t say anything back, but he did let out a Very Loud Sigh.
“That’s what you get for not obeying your parents.” I said, while looking up at him. Damn Teenagers, growing taller than their parents.
I fully expected him to start begging for his phone that morning. His argument would be something like “but Mooomm, what if I need to call you for something after school?” And my argument would be “not my problem. You should have thought about that before you disobeyed me!”
I was pleasantly surprised when the morning passed without a single mention of his phone. “He’s a good kid.” I thought to myself. “I’ll give him his phone back when he gets home from school.”
Just after school got out, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was The Teenager. “Mom” he said. “You’re going to be so mad at me.”
My heart dropped.
He continued.
“I took my phone this morning.”
!!!!
“What? Why would you do…”
“BUT MOM! Let me finish! I got it taken away. My teacher took it away. You’ll have to come to the office to get it.”
He’s had his phone since the beginning of his Freshman year (he’s a junior.) That has never happened. It was as if Jesus said “I’ve got this one, Mom.”
Thank you, Jesus.
Tony thinks we should pick it up without telling him we did so. I think we should leave it there for at least a week. It’ll be there when I’m good and ready to pick it up.
So, yeah…Teenagers.
HELP A MOTHER OUT IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE…O.M.G TEENAGERS!
I need your help, Internet.
In just a few short hours my son (The Teenager) will be boarding a plane, headed for Mexico City. (sob) We’re having an argument right now and I KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT ON THIS. I need your help because The Son thinks I’m crazy and is like “MOM YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND!”
He’s taking his guitar with him. He can’t take the guitar as carry on, so he will check it in. I am telling him that he should NOT take his very new, very expensive (to us) guitar because THEY WILL THROW IT AROUND AND NOT TREAT IT VERY NICELY AND I CAN NOT AFFORD TO SPEND ANOTHER $500 TO BUY YOU A NEW GUITAR. I’m all “just take your old one, that way you don’t possibly damage the new one.” And he’s all “but MOM! The old one sounds TERRIBLE!” And I’m all “I understand that, but your new one will sound terrible too IF IT IS BROKEN DUE TO BEING THROWN AROUND WITH ALL OF THE OTHER LUGGAGE!” And he’s all “MOM! You’re too paranoid! Nothing is going to happen to it!” And I’m all “I WILL NOT LET YOU GO ON THIS TRIP IF YOU DO NOT STOP ARGUING WITH ME!” (Obviously, I am SHOUTING A LOT TODAY BECAUSE WHY DON’T TEENAGERS LISTEN TO THEIR PARENTS?)
Here is where you come in. If you have ever had an experience of luggage being damaged, or, you know, your guitar being broken by an airlines (It would be so awesome if someone did have a story like that to tell!) I beg of you to leave a comment here for my son to read. Even if you’ve not had that experience, will you please tell him that HE SHOULD LISTEN TO HIS MOTHER BECAUSE I AM RIGHT?
Thank you.
this post will self destruct the minute he agrees to take the old guitar. Thank you in advance for your help.
.12.
I still remember the very first time that I saw him.
June 19th, 2:47 pm.
When the nurse handed him over to me, I was in awe. I guess I expected him to look exactly like his brother did when he was born. But he looked completely different. Creamy white skin. Big ears, one folded over, pressed against his head. Tiny, squinted eyes, perfect little lips.
I had worried that I’d not have enough love to give to a second child. I loved my first baby so much, I couldn’t imagine giving that love to another child. I think most mother’s worry about that and I certainly was no different.
That fear melted the minute I laid eyes on him.
Corny as it may sound, I knew in the first few weeks of his life I knew there was something incredibly special and wonderful about my son.
He had the most amazing personality. And Oh! how he loved loved loved his Mama. As a baby, he could grab my face and give me slobbery wet kisses. As a toddler, he would climb up on my lap, hold my face in his hands and say things like “I just wuv you so much my booyeeful mommy!” And if anyone dared to be mean to me, he would tell them where they could shove it. Like the one time my brother was teasing me at dinner. E was only 3 years old. We were out to dinner with the family. My brother kept teasing me saying things like “What about that what time you did *insert mocking words.*” E had had enough. He stood up, walked over to my brother and said “HEY, WHAT ABOUT YOUR BUTT?!”
E always loved to spend time with me. He was my little shadow and man, was he ever a joy to have around. He could be difficult– like, how he refused to wear plain t-shirts because “THEY ARE SO DUMB AND UGLY!” (when he was THREE.) but he could also be the sweetest, kindest, most considerate little person. I always knew where I stood with him. If he was mad, he would cross his precious little arms and say “I’m SO mad’tchu, Mommy!” Then, 5 minutes later, he’d wrap his arms around my legs and tell me how much he loved me and how I was the best mommy in the whole wide world.
Yesterday, that adorable little boy turned 12 years old. And even though he’s older, not much has changed. Sure, he’s older and more mature, but he’s still that same tenderhearted boy at heart. He still lets me know when he’s upset, but is always quick to tell me how much he loves me. He can hurt me deeply when he’s angry at me, but can melt my heart with his kindness.
Hard to believe it’s been 12 years since I first laid eyes on him. It takes my breath away every time he talks about how much he’s looking forward to starting junior high in August.
Junior high.
I didn’t post this yesterday because I’ve had the hardest time writing this post. Not because I don’t love him, but because he’s the most wonderful, unique, hilarious child in the world and I sob like a baby when I think of how wonderful our lives have been since he came along.
Happy Birthday, beautiful boy. Thank you for making me laugh so hard that it hurts on a daily basis. I love love love you.
What he looked like the morning he turned 12.
My Blog May Suck , But My Life Sure as Hell Doesn’t.
I apologize in advance for posting another video. It’s so very Mommy Blogger of me, I know. But, you guys– my boys. MY BOYS! They played their first “gig” this weekend at a Relay for Life event.
It was one of the proudest moments I’ve had as their mother.
Especially for my sweet E. He had a little “Moment of Glory” during the song (Drum Solo at 2:05!) Yes, I cried and YES, I said “that’s my boy!” I was so glad to see him get some much deserved attention.
I Love Little Surprises.
I don’t mind if he records himself playing the drums, but if I ever catch him vlogging, he’ll be BANNED FROM THE FLIPCAM
Adding this to the list of reasons The Middle Child is THE BEST.
Him: Can u pick me up?
Me: take the bus, please.
Him: Fine! Let me burn!