Category Archives: birthdays

Catch up!

Believe it or not, DelSo is nearly ten years old. It’s been a pretty interesting run for me. Writing and sharing my life with people who take in my words, without looking in my eyes, is a sometimes odd experience.

My original concept, an inspired idea without much planning (aka The Silvia Story), was a community blog with neighborhood things and local events. I had birthed the sometimes hated name, DelSo and, for some weird reason, it stuck. I’ll never stop smiling just thinking about “DelSo” appearing in some official city mailings and on Google Maps. Kids, you can make up your own language!

Anyway, my idea was to explore happy hours around town and write about it. Low key, kind of insider foodie stuff. Fun. You know, light.

My life changed and the blog changed. There was a lot of emotion and readers responded. I grew to accept that the stories I shared were, in fact, mine to tell and if my transparency revealed the shadows of others, it wasn’t my intention.

DelSo has been a consistent outlet for nearly a decade, something I never imagined. Since last spring I’ve also been publishing pieces on a new platform, CivMix. Some of the topics are similar to things I’ve written about right here, but they’ve been tweaked a little differently. Truthfully, I sometimes wrestle with where to publish what. It feels like some weirdo writer’s infidelity thing. Whatever.

Here are some recent posts I’ve written over at CivMix. Hope you enjoy them – S

Travels With Sons

 

http://civmix.com/2019/09/the-school-year-…chers-confession/

Why Own When You Can Rent?

http://civmix.com/2019/09/the-waterboys-ca…-theater-9-19-19/

Beach birthday – Jersey Shore Weekend

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Filed under aging, Albany, birthdays, Boys, DelSo, Events, family, ideas, Local, musings, Observations, Recommendations, road trips, Summer, travel

Jersey girl birthday

Or, The Story of the 35th Anniversary of My 18th Birthday, Jersey Shore Style

F7603EE7-FF2E-4B6C-9287-B2717F42DEA6I sought this photo out for a post over at CivMix and every time I look at it, I can’t help but smile. What in the world gave that high school dropout with zero prospects the nerve to look over her shoulder with such an assured gaze?

For the life of me, I can’t remember feeling half as confident as I appear in that photo. I was in love. I know that. M1 was making me smile and I was happy, not knowing where I was going, but glad to be exactly where I was.

I’m fairly certain that picture was taken in the summer of 1984. I know it was on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights. My hair was permed and glazed. I believe the shade was called “fuchsia plum” and my hair looked wild under the bright lights.

That was the last time I was on the beaches of New Jersey, until last weekend. Thirty-five years later, I was finally back on the beaches of “the Shore,” which was what we called the New Jersey coast where I grew up.

F306957B-791C-41CF-AB3B-1288B73BD5B9On this recent trip I felt more so much established, certain of my value. I knew I was a catch for far more than a coquettish glance. The swagger in my step currently comes from the knowledge that I am, without a doubt, capable, independent and resilient. My gaze is direct instead of coy and, while my hair may be fading into silver, I feel more confident in myself than ever before.

I look back at that photo and can’t help but consider all of the decisions I’ve made between then and now. Some good, others not so great.  I’m so happy to know that I wouldn’t alter a single one of those choices because, if I did, I wouldn’t be where I am right now and it’s a damn good place.

Sunday, the day after my 53rd birthday, I laid on the beach soaking in the rays of the sun. I wore a two piece bathing suit, something I wouldn’t have done when I was 18 because I would have been concerned with how I looked to others.

On this particular day, though, I realized I didn’t really care how I looked in a bikini, because it was all about how the sun felt on my skin. And it felt great.

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Filed under aging, birthdays, girlhood, musings, road trips, Summer, sunday

53 words

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September 21, 2019 · 10:10 am

20 for 20

Some of the things I thought about on the day my middle son turned 20…

  • My pregnancy with him was the least stressful of my three – he went full term and I wasn’t yet considered to be “geriatric” as defined by obstetrics.
  • When my water broke in the late afternoon, I was scrubbing the grout from our newly tiled bathroom floor as a chicken roasted for dinner. Griffin’s favorite meal growing up was what he called “big chicken,” aka roasted chicken.
  • Griffin was born the following afternoon. I was not a quick birther.
  • Delivering him was my proudest physical accomplishment.
  • He had no hair when he was born, but there was a reddish glow and I was convinced he would be a redhead.
  • After the horrible circumstances involving my oldest son’s birth and neonatal experience, mothering Griffin gave me confidence in my abilities to take care of a baby.
  • He was not an easy baby. Whereas Liam was placid, Griffin was demanding and would nurse (or cry) for hours. Or so it seemed.
  • I’ll never forget waking up one night with him in the middle of the bed, his usual spot, and seeing his eyes wide open as he just stared at the ceiling. He looked incredibly wise and peaceful.

  • He climbed out of his crib at 9 months and was running by 10 months. He remains the most coordinated of my children.
  • His first word was “Go!,” which he yelled at the car in front of us which did not accelerate fast enough when the light turned green.
  • Griffin was always aware of his appearance and clothing. He refused to wear a winter parka because it made him look fat, which was weird because we never talked about “looking fat” and he has never been overweight. Or, thank goodness, afflicted with an eating disorder.

  • He received a classic toy for his second birthday – one of those plastic lawn mowers that “pops” as you push it along. He was playing outside with it with my mother-in-law shortly after receiving it and somehow she lost track of him. We located him about a block away from the house, completely oblivious to our collective panic.
  • His nickname was “the runner” because he would intentionally take off when he was out in crowds. It was an exhausting phase which caused him to miss a number of special events because no one wanted to take on the responsibility of supervising him.
  • School and making friends has always come easily to him. This has been good and bad.
  • One of my biggest worries for him has been that he never really has had to work hard at anything.
  • I was wildly frustrated with him when he was in high school and not really applying himself.* At the time, I remembered some wisdom I had received from a friend who had tragically lost her young adult son. She said all we can do is enjoy them while we have them. I’ve thought about that often.
  • We’re down to just one teenager in the family.
  • While my oldest and youngest sons enjoy traveling and seeing historic sights, all Griffin wants to do on our vacations is “eat and hang out.” I’m really looking forward to doing exactly that with him in Greece in a couple of months.
  • His awareness of the inequities in our world and his interest in contemporary politics makes me think he’d make a great advocate for the disadvantaged.
  • I’ve never been prouder, or more frightened, than the day he walked away from me and got on the subway to go to Thailand, solo, for three months.
  • It doesn’t seem possible that this guy has been my son for two decades. I am so interested to see what he does in the next twenty years.

*gross understatement

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A due date becomes a do date – 22 years later, that is

My first pregnancy was pretty dreamy – I conceived the exact month I wanted to, which meant my maternity leave would be perfectly integrated with my academic calendar. The Lilly baby was due April 5th, which would give me about 6 weeks home, followed by 6 weeks back at work, and then summer off. It all seemed pretty ideal.

Of course, Liam was born 5 1/2 weeks early, arriving at the end of February, rather than early April. Obvious proof, of course, to support the theory that parenting is state of being that can not always be controlled. That perspective, along with the knowledge that once your child almost dies, subsequent things that occur to them make one both less concerned, and more inclined to worry, are how I’ve rationalized a lot of things in the last 22+ years. So far, so far mostly good.

So good! Pizza Suprema.

When it came time to celebrate my oldest’s most recent birthday, we headed to NYC, a full six weeks after his actual birthday, but the day before his original due date. He was interested in seeing a performance at the Metropolitan Opera House and it was challenging to synchronize our calendars and that of the Met to get to the opera that he wanted to see. We were able to find a mutually good date on Thursday and grabbed Amtrak to the city, leaving ourselves barely enough time to eat a couple of slices, get checked in to our hotel and catch the subway to Lincoln Center.

We were cozy in our upgraded seats (When we picked up our tickets at Will Call the man helping us said he had “something better for us.” Turns out that was 11th row center in the orchestra. Bonus!) when the chandeliers lifted to the ceiling and the lights went down. The music was fantastic and the conductor led the orchestra with as much well placed energy as I’ve ever seen. Take this all with a grain of salt – I know nothing about music or conducting.

Don Giovanni is a wonderful opera and the costumes, sets and singing created an experience which was satisfying. I mean, come on, the cad gets his comeuppance! Everyone loves when that happens. While the demise of Don Giovanni was dramatic and well depicted with fire, there were also some more lighthearted scenes with clever dialogue and wit. Admittedly, I dozed a bit here and there, but I don’t believe I missed much. I had feasted on the production and felt sated. It was way better than a C-section.

#renttherunway #openingceremony

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Filed under aging, beauty, birthdays, Boys, concerts, Events, moms, Music, NYC, pizza, road trips, Spring, theater

sto·ry·tell·ing – the activity of telling or writing stories.

Somehow I’ve pushed the “Publish” button 1500 times on this WordPress blog. If you’ve been around any length of time, you’ve witnessed some great trips, fantastic meals, fun adventures and a heartbreak or two. I’ve shared more than some would prefer, but have learned I’d rather commit to honesty than anyone who might be less than truthful. Lies are joy suckers and who has time for that?

Speaking of sharing, I believe I’ve gotten more selective about what I share. It may be hard to imagine but, I keep a lot in my head. Hopefully, what I do share is accepted with the same simple motivation with which it is given. I’m just a person who is living a tremendously rich life and appreciating the heck out of every experience with which I’ve been graced.

I have a couple of new things coming up that maybe you’d like to check out. The first is an event in which I am participating on March 15th (yes, the Ides of March). The storytelling series Front Parlor is celebrating its 8 year anniversary with an evening of live storytelling. I’ve been invited to tell a story, which some of you may know parts of, about finding my father’s family when I was 22. I’m nervously excited. The title of my story is “A Fire, a Phonebook and Finding My Father,” in case you’re considering getting tickets.

Also exciting is an in-the-works new local source of information to which I’m hoping to contribute some regular writing. I’ll have more deets when they’re available, believe me!

Come celebrate – DelSo 1500+ and the Front Parlor Series’ 8th birthday.

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Filed under Albany, birthdays, DelSo, Events, Local, love, Observations, Troy, Uncategorized, upstate New York, writing

Fierce and 14

Last night, I woke up to the sound of the wind howling. It was fierce and powerful reminding me of where I had been exactly 14 years previously – in labor, climbing the stairs at St. Peter’s Hospital. My progress that night was slow, despite it being my third time at that particular rodeo, and I walked up and down those stairs countless times in an attempt to cajole my third baby boy to come out and join the family.

The stubbornness he demonstrated during (his time in utero and) delivery was a precursor of the level of stubbornness he has exhibited ever since. Q was characterized by his grandmother, who sadly died shortly before his third birthday, as “formidable.” She knew of what she spoke, having raised 5 sons of her own, and I so wish she had lived longer to provide further observations and maybe even advice. This kid is a force.

I’ve often described Q as relentless. He just digs his heels in and refuses to yield and it never fails to exhaust me. In the midst of a disagreement, negotiating isn’t an option with this one. I’m learning to quietly tell him the conversation is closed for now, with the promise of revisiting it at a designated later time. It’s the only way out. But, speaking about the way out, this is the same kid who never hangs up or allows us to part without a kiss and an “I love you.” He’s wonderfully demonstrative and affectionate, sometimes to a fault when it comes to his girlfriend.

We learn so much about ourselves as parents from our children. This one has taught me to pick my battles thoughtfully, to be willing to table disagreements and to do your best to always let loved ones know that you care. Happy 14, QP.

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