tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77628329892876027792024-03-12T21:23:46.223-07:00Finndyl FolliesRaising Two Boys without an Instruction ManualPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-8335623332057766212022-06-07T01:56:00.004-07:002022-06-07T02:07:08.123-07:00Love Letter “It takes only a moment to fall in love but a lifetime to prove that it was truly meant to be forever.”I read this quote when you were sleeping beside me. It captured the way the last the 25 years have evolved and the possibilities of the open space waiting in the next 25.I’m excited.I had been thinking about our milestone for weeks, playing and sappily listening to our wedding song Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-36407594547531138752022-03-16T16:55:00.010-07:002022-03-17T03:58:07.942-07:00Someone's Typing in UkraineI spent the weekend and my early morning hours this week translating broken English into Americanized social media content for Ukranian journalists.Within two minutes of waking, I am carefully rearranging snippets of horror to help pierce the veil of comfort on Twitter, Facebook, and TikTok with the visceral descriptions of war in a country I have never seen.The dispatches are dark and Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-44383111875997360992019-11-08T14:30:00.000-08:002019-11-08T19:34:19.877-08:00Holyoke hears a “NO”
I picked up my packet at election headquarters in the
morning.
It was T-10 hours until the polls closed and I was about to walk
the ward I lived in dropping literature in support of a debt exclusion override
to build two new middle schools.
City leaders over the course of decades had let the school
infrastructure decay so badly there were roofs beyond disrepair, poor ventilation
and air Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-52664482022328985262018-08-27T17:46:00.000-07:002018-08-27T17:52:12.244-07:00Senioritis
The Universe or God of Heat Waves must be smiling on me. I’m
not ready for Finn’s senior year. I’m taking the school cancellation as a
reprieve to collect myself. I’ve been in denial. Well not really, but I have
been stuffing emotions like a chipmunk until this evening when at a stop light
the dam broke and I burst into tears as Donna Summer sang McArthur Park on
Sirius 70s on 7. (Don’t judge.)Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-2107807437197015052017-01-22T07:27:00.001-08:002017-01-25T11:22:31.036-08:00The personal is politicalI didn't plan on going to the Women's March. I thought about it a lot. My mom went to Washington. My friends went to Boston.
I ultimately stayed home to not miss my boys' games.
Mother's choice.
I posted feminist memes as my own virtual march instead.
It didn't satisfy; so I jumped in my car and drove to Greenfield by myself.
When I got there I saw signs of unity, prayers for peace and pink Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-11763758777107132322016-11-10T09:03:00.000-08:002016-11-10T09:03:14.559-08:00American WomanI voted for Hillary Clinton with my youngest son at my side.
I wore my great grandmothers beads and my grandmother's LOVE pin. It felt significant, special even. And when I think about it now, it still feels good. I voiced my opinion by ballot as an American, as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a person.
I don't ask you to share my viewpoint.
My candidate lost. Your candidate won. I accept Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-90455070785493515812016-07-02T10:12:00.005-07:002016-07-02T19:41:26.898-07:00Gram's Window
I'm sitting on the floor of my grandmother's bedroom. It is - after four decades - the final time I will step foot in her home since she died 9 months ago.
The room is empty except for the memories rushing my brain. I rest my back against the wall where her bureau once stood. The window streams the evening sun across the floorboards.
I hear us talking. I am little climbing upPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-88314895921254158922013-05-25T06:36:00.000-07:002013-05-25T15:38:36.081-07:00When the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and other fine storiesSometimes as a parent you have to force yourself to remember what it is like to be a kid. It's not easy with the mom voices swirling in your head - your own and/or your mother's.
I am reminded of myself as a child in some ways when my boys test boundaries of their own. The thing is, my adult mind jumps to scold first before i empathize. I think this is fear on my part... a subconscious - oh no Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-17265928591214752422012-12-14T19:31:00.000-08:002012-12-17T05:13:55.553-08:00Why?Twenty years ago I learned of my first school shooting. I was a new reporter and too green to get the assignment that would detail Simon's Rock College student Wayne Lo's killing spree.
I remember the T-shirt he wore at his arraignment that said "Sick of It All." And I remember the description of one of the victims that survived, Teresa Beavers.
Teresa was shot twice in the stomach while onPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-84992951751836802062012-11-02T18:48:00.000-07:002012-11-03T06:34:12.445-07:00Feeling the Pain In sports there are winners and there are losers. And as a parent its only likely that you'll get clean up duty for the latter at some point.
Up until last weekend, it wasn't that difficult. A pat on the back and a "you'll get em next time" seemed to suffice.
But when my 11-year-old lost his playoff football game after an 8-0 season, I felt my throat constrict as I sat up high in the bleachers Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-42383016736059324452012-06-07T02:17:00.000-07:002012-06-07T18:27:11.297-07:00Fifteen Years 1-4-3Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. I think it deserves a little fanfare. There is no grand party for celebrating 15 years with your spouse, no commercial card that I could find that says, "Happy Fifteenth."
June 7, 1997
So here on my blog, I am making up my own public display of affection.
These years have been the happiest moments of my life even when pregnancy loss, my father'sPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-32157017047458084282012-01-21T06:59:00.000-08:002012-01-21T07:23:32.057-08:00A dog's life lessonOur dog Guinness died yesterday. After 14 years with us I no longer see her lying by the front door. My heart feels broken and then even more shattered when I watch the tears drip down my sons faces as they try to make sense of never seeing her again.
"I don't want her to be dead mom," my youngest tells me over and over again.
Oh how I wanted to make up stories to soften this blow.
I longed to Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-47585309748998371152011-12-23T14:27:00.000-08:002011-12-23T14:27:57.189-08:00Dear SantaI fear this is my last "kid" Christmas with my oldest.
The doubts about you and your reindeer have settled in.
He's dropping hints.
"Mom you use the same wrapping paper."
(I didn't think he'd notice. New moms make note.)
7 years ago....wow!
"Mom, have you gone shopping yet?"
When he questioned you in front of his little brother, I remained stoic.
Naturally, I pointed out The Polar Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-64910174246529519262011-10-02T18:53:00.000-07:002011-10-03T17:52:36.267-07:00The pigskin problemI am not sure when it happened but I've become a football fan - not the kind that can scream at the television set, although I fear that may be coming.
This is season three in the Lubold house.
Coach dad and my eldest have been hitting the gridiron since third grade. I've watched but have not been engaged.
It was so bad, I got "Football for Dummies" as a gift.
This year I read it because I Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-61593976788429313472011-09-10T14:36:00.000-07:002011-09-11T08:31:07.394-07:00Giving voice to 9/11 when there's nothing left to say
"Turn on the tv."
That's what my husband said when he called me the morning of Sept. 11, 2001.
I was nursing our new baby and home on maternity leave from my newspaper job.
When I switched on NBC, I saw the second plane hit the tower.
My husband and I said nothing for a minute but we stayed connected by phone.
What just happened?
No pundit could say for sure. And then they knew, we all would Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-70315489076300665762011-08-30T18:54:00.000-07:002011-08-31T17:18:59.052-07:00No school is perfect but...The boys are beginning this school year at a new school. I am so excited, it feels as if I am going along with them.
I am fighting my enthusiasm and trying to temper my mood with reminders to be cautiously optimistic.
We didn't change schools because we moved. We changed because after 5 years at our last school, I did not feel my eldest, or our family for that matter, were getting what we needed.Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-59203635313703208452011-08-21T19:19:00.000-07:002011-08-21T19:19:17.161-07:00Remembering Bird by Bird...A BlogHer perspectiveIt has been two weeks since I came back from BlogHer'11 in San Diego. There was so much inspiration there, I am finding it hard to write at all.
It's easy to get overwhelmed. Getting back to work, running around with the boys and killing myself with Jillian Michaels exercise videos is not always conducive to letting the muse flow. My suitcase, like the ideas runningPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-57797515309126955992011-08-16T18:57:00.000-07:002011-08-17T08:01:20.556-07:00Summer vacationHis refusal to eat the blue slushy, was the first sign something was really wrong.
At first I thought my 10 year old's stomach ache was the result of Midwest heat we were experiencing on vacation.
But not long after, he started throwing up.
The lists of ailments raced through my mind.
Stomach bug?
Food poisoning?
He didn't really eat much all day. That's when I first thought Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-35461697928451045822011-07-30T07:58:00.000-07:002011-07-30T08:03:50.691-07:00Are we there yet?Childhood has changed a lot since I was little. I am not going to tell you I walked three miles barefoot to school in snow. But safe to say the call-waiting invention of my youth has been totally surpassed.
On my day trip to the beach one child is watching a movie on his his iPod touch and the other is on my iPhone playing the brain pop app.
Remember the license plate game?
I am going to Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-3452842134010338782011-07-04T17:40:00.000-07:002011-07-04T17:40:18.945-07:00Kitchen talk and the color of skinMy youngest finished Kindergarten the other day.
We were in the kitchen unpacking his backpack when he told me he wished he had brown skin.
Why is that?
"Because everyone in my class has brown skin and I look different."
He and his brother attend a predominately Hispanic school.
My son looked down at the floor as if he were about to cry.
I knelt down to him and said the world is full Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-29869875323082246672011-07-03T10:10:00.000-07:002011-07-03T10:34:03.811-07:00Letters from holiday road ...#1I am at a Walmart north of Cleveland. My husband is at the wheel and the two boys are in the back seat.
It's a long way from Massachusetts. (572 miles of farmland and a scant view of Lake Erie) But we are on a mission to visit Caitlin in St. Louis - my cousin but not unlike a daughter or a kid sister and more accurately a sister to the boys.
We have stopped five times to pee. And yet, it's notPatty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-10169006044443561872011-04-09T05:52:00.000-07:002011-04-09T08:22:41.202-07:00Spirited parenting: taking a time out when you need oneI'm back from a work trip. It's always hard to leave the babies even when they are no longer babies anymore.
My youngest secretly packed me a stuffed, musical, Woodstock to hug while I was away.
He surprises me. He is so gentle and thoughtful in one instant and then intense, stubborn and defiant the next.
He's human, a change agent indeed. And dare I say, a reflection of his mother.
D Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-72366456827694079592011-02-21T12:32:00.000-08:002011-02-21T13:26:11.001-08:00I can scream like a girl cause I am oneI'm out numbered by gender in my house.
No big deal really, until, well, it is.
I take my role as the lone female voice in a house full of guys seriously. Maybe all of my boys wish it less so, but I think it is up to me to explain a few things before they reach adolescence and I become the dumbest person on the planet.
Lesson one : Don't say "crying like a girl" unless you are one.
The teaching Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-25311793236362595822010-11-14T09:11:00.000-08:002010-11-14T09:23:58.905-08:00Chasing CoatsSomewhere between birth and Kindergarten, the struggle begins.
It's freezing outside and your little bundle of joy whom you swaddled from the womb to protect, refuses your direction to wear a coat.
Try as you might to reason, the refusal - at least in my experience - heightens when I pay attention to it.
According to NPR, "Bundling kids up satisfies a deep-seated parental impulse to protect.
Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7762832989287602779.post-24116536130959528142010-11-06T13:02:00.000-07:002010-11-06T13:33:38.724-07:00Doing the best I can...Erica Jong gave me permissionParenting is hard work.
Duh, you might say.
But in hindsight, did you ever really think about all the challenges you might face when you were picking out the layette?
The not knowing and living as it comes, is all part of the fun in raising a family. Yet, it is still scary.
The pressure to do everything well and by the societal book is daunting.
Someone always says, "Where was Patty Luboldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389204518654861677noreply@blogger.com1