Audrey's Epiphany

There are some things in the Dansicker house that have become absolute. Henry's admiration and fascination with birds, Stanley's fondness for being naked 24/7 (yes, little, quiet Stanley), and Audrey's relentless desire to become the next Hollywood singing sensation. For years these truths have been perpetrated in my home and to date we have encouraged each of our children to express themselves and their desires in ways that make them feel strong and confident about themselves.

But a surprisingly new revelation has made its way into our home and it is with great pleasure that I relay this changing ideology. The night before last as I tucked Audrey into bed, she revealed her new dream of the future. I was certain it would pertain to stardom on the big white way or trying out for American Idol. But instead, the effects of the last few months penetrated the conversation as Audrey told me, "Mommy, I don't think I really want to be a rock star anymore. I think I want to be a teacher, just like Mrs. Diamond. She is pretty, and smart and she tells children how to learn in a fun way. I think I would be good at that too."

This is one of those rare occasions when I saw my child's path being changed by a positive force in her life that was not based in our home. I was so happy to see the joy in my daughter as she thought about school and her own future. In that moment I saw the extent of Mrs. Diamond's influence over my little girl and was so grateful that Audrey had found this special moment in time to make her wiser, stronger and happier. Thank you Mrs. Diamond for having such an impact on my girl...you have no idea how rare of an occasion it is.

Happy Birthday Stanny!

Today my baby, my little Manny, born Stanley Ellis Dansicker, Hershel in Hebrew, came into my life six years ago on Wednesday, August 24, 2005. He took his first breath and unbeknownst to me, popped his lung. Being my third baby in three years, I was racing to get out of the hospital and take him home...but something was wrong. I could tell that he wasn't eating the way he should and his breaths seemed labored. I called the nurse to have him checked and the next face I saw was the attending physician of the GMBC Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Your baby may have meningitis, he may have a heart problem or his lung may have collapsed. Time stopped. I didn't hear him anymore; I started to hold my breath.

Turns out his lung had collapsed and he had surgery to correct it immediately. After seven agonizing days, we took my fragile, yet amazingly handsome, red-headed son home with great joy. Stanley has always proven to be a fighter. Of all my children, he is the most competitive. He loves to play sports, soccer is his favorite, though he enjoys golf, tennis, ice skating and anything that physically challenges him. Though he is of average stature, his heart is free and full of gusto. He wants to be a fisherman when he grows up and live in Audrey's mansion that she is building down the street from where mommy lives.

He also has a carefree, silly side that most people don't see. He is the king of nakedness and he is not shy about showing us how truly comfortable he is in his own skin. He dances, plays, and sings all the time. He loves his brother Henry and his sister Audrey above all else and of course, he is the ultimate mama's boy right now. The last words he said to me last night before I let him sleep in my bed were, "All I need is my mama." Most mornings I wake to a juicy kiss and a naked snuggle and a "Can you make me my chocolate milk, Mom, it's 7:15."  

Everyone falls in love with Stanley. Maybe it's because of his pale complexion and his red hair, or perhaps it is his quiet confidence that is wrapped in such a little package. He makes people smile and I often hear the words, "I want to take him home with me." Fortunately, for me, we get to take him home every day. Stanley, Manly, packananny, is the happiest kid in the world. He fits in anywhere, though in new situations, he usually relies on his big sister Audrey to test the waters first.

Stanley is a good friend, a good brother and an amazing son. Mommy loves you Manny. Happy 6th Birthday my angel. .

Auddie Girl Rocks My World!

Judging from the last 34 blog posts over the last eleven months, you may not know that I have an incredible daughter who makes my life infinitely more complicated, but really represents the true essence of who I aspire to be when I grow up. Audrey is a strong, compassionate and amazing little girl who has music dancing around in her head every minute of the day. At first it was difficult to understand the lyrics of her brain, but after years of great effort and patience, we have come to understand the uniqueness of our daughter. Audrey always seems to respond to life’s questions with her own version of reality. It doesn’t always make sense to us, but at six, it doesn’t really have to as long as it makes perfect sense to Audrey.

Don’t get me wrong, though the music in her head is apt to solicit some interesting answers and conversation, Audrey is a very smart and savvy little girl who gets it. Life is about discovery, and she is open to everything. She loves drawing, makeup, changing outfits six times a day, Shake it Up on Disney Channel, family anything -- dinners, trips, parties -- anything that involves her family, and sleepovers with her best girl friends…oh and steak, burgers, and Chili’s Molten Chocolate Cake.

Being the middle child between two boys, she has a girly side and a more daring side. Audrey understands competition and shies away from it unless she is assured she will win. That is why she challenges her younger brother and best friend Stanley into many physical battles, which she can win. Audrey seldom challenges older brother Henry to any physical game of whimsy because she knows she will not prevail. Audrey is the perfect puzzle piece to my two very different sons. If Stanley is Audrey’s baby brother that she watches over like a mama tiger, than Henry is the one she looks up to, always trying to please him and get his attention. Thank goodness, Henry being Henry is always a good sport and gives it to her. Harmony. I frequently tell my children, “Family first. When I am gone, you will only have each other. Remember to love and respect one another.” They don’t always like to hear that mommy won’t be around forever, but that fear forces them to understand the deep meaning and truth in putting each other first.

Audrey is a free spirit who gets what she wants and knows how to get it. She leads with a gentle hand most days and is self-motivated. She is above all kind and giving. She spends hours drawing pictures for her peers after school has ended. If we are going to a party, she is the one who wants to present the gift. If someone leaves something behind before we leave the house for one of our many excursions, it is Audrey who volunteers to go back in and track it down. She takes care of us and when we are sick, weary or cranky, she is the one who reaches out to us to make the world right.

As the mommy, I try to let Audrey know every single day, that she is smart, beautiful and kind…and that she is a very important part of this family. Every night before bed, I tell her that I am so proud that she is my daughter. I love you Auddie girl…..

Smile Progression

This week Audrey and Henry both lost a top tooth. Though it may seem like a natural, and somewhat inconsequential event in life, to me it symbolized the inevitable passage of time. Just when I thought my babies were at the perfect stage in life, the loss of one of their baby teeth reminds me that time is pushing us forward into  unchartered territory. All that I know now is just a taste of what is to come and though I don't feel particularly prepared for what lies ahead, I am excited about the possibilities.

Their new smiles are just a hint of the journey that awaits me. Though I hope the evolution doesn't rush by too quickly, I am happy to be along for this very meaningful and always surprising ride.

Channeling the Past

I just wanted to share a special moment with you that really touched my heart and at the same time gave me pause.

I went on the Beth Tfiloh 2nd grade field trip to the Lloyd Street Synagogue yesterday. It was a beautiful day and I was with my son, Henry. He and his classmates were excited for the day, and so was I. When we arrived at the historic synagogue, we were bombarded by historical facts and lessons of our past, some too cumbersome for their little minds to take at times. There was no shortage of whining or boredom by the middle of the first leg of this trip, the kids were ready to run and play which you generally expect from 8 year old children. But just as their demeanors where beginning to wane on the chaperones and the docent, a beautiful moment presented itself and catapulted us from 2011 to 1845 and beyond. The children were asked to sing in the old sanctuary, and in unison, without hesitation, the young, pure voices reached back to a time where what could have been the same innocent voices rose to the air in the very same rafters. It truly brought the meaning of Judaism back to our hearts and minds. The prayer they sang together revived our belief in one voice for one nation...today, tomorrow and always. It was quite a moment...one I will always cherish.

What Could Have Been?

Some days are just harder than others to get up and get moving. Today, I am trying to push myself through the sadness and the despair I feel for my brother Mark who died four years ago today. His absence makes me feel the sting of all that I have lost in my life. I can’t seem to escape the self-pity that is currently hidden behind the empty rooms of my house as my husband goes off to work and my children are tucked safely away at school. I have been trying to pull myself together for hours this morning and still, I can't seem to make it out of the house as I watch the flicker of the Yartzhiet upon my windowsill.

Mark, Stacy & Brad (1970s)

 When I think of my brother Mark, I think of a man who never had a chance in life. Born to a mother of 20 and a father preoccupied with his own selfish fantasies that spanned his whole miserable life, my brother was left behind. Someone should have seen the good in him and helped him to live up to his potential. I don’t think anyone ever told him that he mattered, that he could do whatever he wanted in life. Though I know he felt the love of our dysfunctional family, his life was empty and sadly never fulfilled.

At 45, he was too young to die. He never got to start a family or see the world. He never had a job that paid more than minimum wage. He never got to build that dream home with his own hands or have another 1960 mustang sitting in his driveway.

Now, as I look at my own life, I think, how can I leave an indelible imprint in this world? How do I show my children that no matter how long you live, you must strive to make a difference in this world, make it better, make it a place that brings happiness to the ones you love and the ones that need your love.

I see the hope of tomorrow in eyes of my children. Looking back at how they are growing, I can’t help but stop and think once, my brother too was a hopeful, playful little boy who deserved a chance in life and sadly what became of him was just not what a mother wishes for her child. As a living testament to what was very good in my brother, I will keep his memory close to my heart, share it with my children who will learn from me and all that I am because of my sweet, loving, strong brother Marky.

Conquering Asthma!

Since the time my son Henry could turn over, he was cursed with the genetic dysfunction of asthma. He simply didn’t have full use of his lungs like we do. He was diagnosed with asthma by the time he was two. Before Henry was four years old, we had already had 18 hospital visits for sickness, exercise, smoke or cold weather induced asthma attacks.

Henry started preventative medications for his condition by the time he was four which included a daily nebulizer treatment of 1mg Pulmicort, a 4mg tablet of Singular and one dose of Nasonex per day. And for the most part, the medication limited his hospital visits to once or twice a year until he was seven…with an occasional Albuterol treatment here and there when he did have an attack. For these reasons and the fact that Henry has never been the competitive sort, I kept him out of organized sports…until yesterday.

Now that Henry is eight and has been six months free of all asthma medications, his doctor told Henry, “I think it’s time for you to join a team.” My immediate internal reaction was to scream “NO!” because of all the times I watched Henry struggle to breathe. But I had to remind myself that he was doing great and that he just might be ready to conquer his asthma and a team sport.

So we signed him up in the same league as his brother and sister, Keith Van Eron, and I told his new coach, Ziggy, that this was Henry’s first experience in a team sport and that he was asthmatic. The coach replied, “No worries, I have asthma too, I will take care of him.” And with that, Henry went off to play a full hour of outdoor soccer.

My reaction…tears…lots of them. I was so relieved. So proud of my boy. So happy to see him enjoy himself without fear of the repercussions. Of course, Henry wasn’t the fastest or most talented kid on the field, but he was ON THE FIELD dancing about and having a great time while learning how to support other children and make new friends.

Sigh…time can heal all wounds…physical and psychological. It’s a miracle…but then again, Henry has always been my miracle baby. Love you boy!

Toothy Grins & Baby Hands

I wake up almost every morning with a half naked five and half year old little boy wedged between my husband and me. This has been an ongoing ritual since my little redheaded, bright eyed, Stanley could walk out of his bedroom. It all starts with a kiss and a snuggle good night in his own bed and by 2am, we have our third partner. Now, I know I am probably going against all psychology manuals of parenting, but it feels right. Stanley is my last, my littlest, my baby…and if he still wants to snuggle with mom and dad, I am going to let him.

Most mornings after I turn over and see Stanny’s porcelain white skin and peaceful slumber, he wakes to tell me, “It’s time for my chocolate milk mommy.” And after three or four last kisses and squeezes…Stanny turns over to kiss a sleeping daddy, just one kiss…informs dad to get up and turn around so Stan can hitch a ride on his back into the living room for Stanny’s morning latte. Relaxed and appreciative, I watch my husband shuffle away with one of the three loves of my life on his back on the way to his morning routine…bare feet, tiny pajamas and hugging his daddy. It’s a sight I look forward to witnessing like a happy Ground Hog’s moment to be replayed and replayed as long as Stanley desires it.

These moments and one’s like these are what makes the ages of 5, 6 and 8 the best ages of all time. All three of my kids have almost all their baby teeth, even my second grader still has a baby face smile that makes me want to keep him this way forever. Their hands are a constant reminder of how young and precious they all are…even when they are doing grown up things like homework and dressing themselves. There are some things that just can’t hurry time.

Though my responsibilities as a dutiful mom are diminishing because of my children’s own increasing independence, I find myself savoring the small things that keep them my babies. A snuggle in bed, a kiss on their tender hands or an angelic smile with all the promise of today. I love, love, love this age. I wish I could bottle it up and from time to time as I grow old and gray, take it out and relive these moments again and again.

Happy Birthday Henry!

Henry (3 months old)

My baby, Henry Eli Dansicker, is turning 8 years old today. Born in the storm of 2003 with two feet of snow, Andy and I welcomed 9 pounds 11 ounces of sweet, beautiful, Henry. He was the answer to our prayers. Having lost a baby girl just 18 months before, Henry fulfilled the dream of family and hope in our lives. He continues to be my source of inspiration every single day.

He was a gentle baby, very loving and calm...very much how he is today. Though he struggled with asthma for the first six years of his life with hospital visits every other month, he proved to be strong and resilient in ways we could have never imagined. And he taught us how fragile life can be as he struggled to heal his lungs time after time. Now, at 8, his asthma is not a daily concern and he remains a strong and brave young man.

Henry (2 months) and mommy

Henry has always been a thoughtful child, always curious about the world. His love of birds became apparent around the age of two. He loved reading about birds, visiting live birds and on many occasion acting like a bird. Now at age 8, he volunteers his time on the weekends at Kayam Farm feeding and raising chickens. He is even expecting his own baby chicks to arrive at our home in a few weeks. In many ways Henry has the spirit of a bird, gracefully soaring through life with kindness, dignity and the foresight of a man well beyond his years.

I spend most of my days wondering why we were chosen to raise such a wonderful boy...even hoping that I myself don't disappoint him by being less than I can be. He shows such strength and maturity already in the way he goes about his day, that I am often humbled and deeply grateful that he is mine.

Happy Birthday Henry. You are the paradigm of how all sons should be measured. Know that you are loved, wanted, respected and admired by the people who love you most of all in this world. All my love, Mommy.

Henry and mommy 8 months old

Henry's last hospital visit for asthma (age 6)

Birdman aka Henry (7)

Audrey, Henry (3), Stanley

Audrey, Stanley, Henry (7) ice skating

My Thoughts Are With Honey

A dear friend and special lady who is in the midst of watching her poor, dear mother slip away from this earth, asked me today, “I don’t know how you did it, Jenny.” And the answer after almost four years is…you just have to. Of course, I wanted to hold her tightly and prepare her for the storm ahead, but no one can prepare another for the loss of a mother.

Honey Lowenthal and her dear mother Frieda Epstein 2009.
Frieda passed away on Sunday, January 30, 2011.

When you lose your mom, you lose the safety net to your existence. There is no one in the world that can replace the love and unfaltering devotion of a mother who loves her child. We as mothers know the endless bond that evolves over years and years of memories. Those same memories are what haunts you every day you live apart from the loved ones you say ‘goodbye’ to throughout your life.

Today, my sorrowful friend said, “I feel like an orphan.” And I know exactly what she meant. When your parents die, that invisible shield that they provide disappears and for the first time in years…you realize you really are on your own. Even with a full life, filled with family, children and friends, you feel alone in a world where you have no one to call ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy.’ After all, we are first the children of our parents. It is a difficult relationship to let go of because it ultimately defines who we are and what we have become.

In the days ahead, my friend will need an army of loved ones around her to let her know that though her mother is at peace from this world, her friends and family can provide a comfortable, yet temporary replacement until she finds her new feet again. She will walk again. She will love again. She will feel joy again. Time will teach her that she can weather this horrendous change and experience new joys without the admiration and love of her parents watching over her. I know this…it is in us all.

Now is the time to comfort my weary friend. A task that is not easy for many of us. Words are difficult to find and in the trying, we sometimes hurt the person they are meant to serve. This type of grieving and pain deserves a strong shoulder and an open ear more than a pearl of wisdom. To my friend, I wish peace in the days ahead and may the wound in your heart grow smaller and smaller as the world around you continues on. Take your time to heal, no need to rush for those who might yearn for your immediate happiness…it will come in time. Just wake up each morning, get out of bed, and make it through the day. Days will turn to years and new memories will prove that you can make it without the warm, soft, loving gaze of the sweetest woman you’ve ever known.

Gussy Skates

Many of you know that I have a six-year-old nephew named Gus who is autistic. He is a happy, beautiful little boy that brings us a lot of joy even though he can’t say the words, “I love you.” One of his favorite activities is ice skating. He is a member of the Baltimore Saints, which meets every Saturday morning at the Reisterstown Sportsplex. As I choke back the tears to tell you, this is a truly special organization that gives hope to parents and special needs children who want to give their children a glimpse of what is possible.

Each year the Saints have an important fundraiser to keep this life affirming organization afloat. It is an amazing cause…one so special that I am reaching out again this year to ask for your help.

Come out and skate with your families on Sunday, March 6 at the Reisterstown Sportsplex from 12:30pm-2:30pm. Or if you are not up for skating or have other plans on that day, please sponsor me and my family with any monetary donation that makes you feel most comfortable.

You can send me a check made out to “Baltimore Area Special Hockey, Inc.” to:

Jenny Dansicker
8 Indian Pony Court
Owings Mills, MD 21117

I will send each sponsor a receipt for your charitable donation for your tax records. And if you are one of those people that I see every day of the week, you can just hand me your check, and I would be happy to add you to my pledge sheet with sincerest appreciation.

Please consider this event or pledging for this amazing cause. The special needs children and the parents in this program are really an example of how to make the best out of life when you are faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

Thank for taking the time to read this blog and consider donating to the cause.

Happy Thoughts, Jenny

Believe...Don't Control

Jan. 2011: Henry in his pajamas, black wig, red feathered boa and pink guitar.

Believe in your children while you fight the urge to save them from their own mistakes. That’s my epiphany of the week. Here is how I came to it....My son Henry is a lot like me when I was a child. He is gentle, quiet, and yet curious about life and the world around him. Sometimes I watch his innocence and wonder whether he will ever make it in this sometimes-challenging world.

Most recently, Henry was invited (by himself) to a birthday party at a local movie theater with nine other 8-year olds. I am not used to letting Henry do things on his own for two reasons: one, he is a momma’s boy who has never wanted to stray far from me. He is not the kind of child who asks to go on play dates at the homes of other little children. And to date, when asked to come to a friend’s house, it was always implied that I would be coming along as his security blanket.

And two, because I am an overprotective, controlling mother who believes it only takes one second to change my good fortune in life and have weighed every decision about my children’s comings and goings on that fact.

But, when Henry was asked to go on his own, I was of course, nervous for him and for me. I forced myself to believe in his ability and his confidence to make good choices. Of course, I called the mother of the party to instill the fear of death in her if anything should happen to my child while in her care, but for the most part, I challenged myself to believe.

Henry went without much ado while I waited nervously to see his handsome face. He was happy and confident that he had separated from me and enjoyed his independence with his friends. I told him how proud I was of his maturity to do things on his own. And I feel strongly that good parenting is the ability to believe in our children whether they are eight or 38 because they must experience the world to learn how to navigate it alone without us. I felt that we both learned a lesson about approaching how we live our lives.

I hope all three of my children know in time that my love will always support them wherever they go in life. But that when they are adults, my love should never be an excuse to hide from the important decisions in life – no matter how big or small – they must face those questions alone and hopefully with confidence. I want to believe in my children and help them make good choices with timely guidance, an open mind and a forgiving heart...and not by controlling every situation that arises from now until they are 18. God help me. I believe.

Parenting 101 - The Indicator Light

If there is one thing I would wish for as a guide to raising my three children, it would be an indicator light that goes off when I am doing a good job parenting. We worry and we try to do what is best for our children, but seldom is there a clear sign that our efforts will pay off in happy, well-adjusted, independent children. Am I right?

Henry and his good friend Shoshi.

Most days I feel like I am walking blindly in a sea of expectation and doubt mostly self-inflicted. But there are moments, rare, but present moments, where I am caught off guard by the pleasure of watching my child unexpectedly fly off on his own.  Today I got a glimpse of who Henry is at his core and what I might be allowed to take some credit for in his journey to adulthood.

Backstory…Henry has always been a gentle giant with a very easy-going disposition that makes him last in every line, but first in everyone’s heart. He is an easy kid to love, but I often worry about his gentle nature living in a world where capitalism and aggression might swallow him whole. Still, I have always known that I can’t push my son to be anything other than what he is…a nice boy who cares for others naturally and without prompting.

Henry and Shoshi sharing a sweet little chicken moment.

So, last night I was watching all three of my children at ice skating practice through the plexi-glass panes as I do every week. Audrey always spinning and twirling in her own little Audrey world, Stanley always striving to be the best and the fastest...and Henry as usual listening attentively to the instructor and proceeding at his very own deliberate pace. All unique. All good.

As I stared through the glass, I notice a new girl on the ice, blonde hair, big blue eyes, maybe a year or two older than Henry, but only about an inch taller. I watched her make her way towards Henry, I noticed how her eyes shot up, than down, and up again, trying to get his attention. Then it happened…I watched my son include this new and slightly shy young girl into the class. Like others before her, she found a friend in Henry. A story I have been told by others, even teachers many times before, but this time, locked behind the glass partition, I watched and observed it for myself. With ease Henry engaged the girl on her terms and befriended her with such subtlety...making her instantly happy and comfortable. I felt proud to be his mother.

Though my parenting was not directly responsible for this moment, I felt a part of it and it gave me hope in my ability to nurture what is best in my son. A soft, compassionate, gentle soul, who listens, yet has the voice to capture the heart of a stranger. My job as his parent, I think, is to try to understand who Henry really is and encourage him to be the best person he can be without trying to change him into what we might want or expect him to be. I guess it's also important to be present in the lives of our children so when a moment like this does occur, it doesn't pass us buy.

Stay true to yourself Henry…and don’t bend to please anyone’s will to break you or disrupt you or even change you…you are a good boy, and I am so happy and proud to be your mommy.