Thank Heaven for Little Girls by Nannette Croce

I have one child. All through my pregnancy I assumed––maybe even hoped?–-for a boy. No special reason, except I was a woman––obviously–-and I had an older sister. I grew up with a male cousin living next door. Just close enough to make the male world appear mysterious and exciting without any of the downside of brotherhood.

I gave birth to a girl. As most mothers, once she was there in my arms I felt no disappointment, but what surprised was the immediate connection. She was a female with all the same parts functioning in a way I understood. In the first few weeks of life, females––thank heaven I was warned in advance––may even menstruate slightly.

Of course, no parent knows fully what to expect as a child grows. She’s taken a few turns I didn’t or at least I don’t remember taking. But things like her relationship with her Dad, her later love/hate relationship with me, her first love, her first breakup, followed the path I knew they would.

My daughter graduates college in a few weeks. When she left us, four years ago, she went long intervals without calling. I didn’t panic. She needed to establish her independence. In this last year, though, she calls more often. We talk mostly about her future, how to transition from college to the real world, where she will look for jobs.

Instead of feeling threatened by my advice, she seeks it out. This is her rehearsal for the next phase. Some women prefer the childhood years. Not me. This is what it was all for. All the intervals of wakeful nights. All the arguments, frustrations, tears. From here on our relationship will continue woman to woman.

The Comfort Zone by Barbara Quinn

Spring is sprung. That means Easter is almost here. On Easter Sunday my son and daughter-in-law, nephew and his wife, niece, brother and sister-in-law, Mom (who is 87 and is treating us all to dinner), husband, and I will meet at a restaurant for dinner and catch up on each other’s lives. Then we’ll drive to my house for coffee and dessert. I’ve ordered a special grana, the wheat pie that is made for Easter, and lots of miniature cannoli, sfogliatelle, and éclairs, and even a couple of St. Joseph’s pastries because Easter is early enough that they are still around. We’ll break out the port and sambuca, heat the espresso, coffee, and tea, and spend more time discussing everything from politics to celebrities. It doesn’t get better than that.

I’m grateful to have people to gather with for the holidays. The celebration with family gives life a comforting rhythm. For a while we forget all the daily hassles and problems and enjoy each other’s company. These times together shore up my defenses. It’s good to know there are people I can count on to be there in times of sorrow and joy. This comfort of family has no price, cannot be bought, and is a worthy life goal.

The person who will be missed when we gather is my Dad. While he was alive he worked hard and took care of us. He invested wisely and left my Mom with enough funds that she is treating us all to dinner, “courtesy of dear old Dad.” I like to think he’s smiling and happy that he is still taking care of us now.

My heart goes out to all the families who would like to but cannot spend time together. Soldiers and their far apart families, people too ill to celebrate, the dying and the departed, those who have to work on that day to support their families, those who are too poor to make a special meal. Even though you are apart or in dire straits, family can still give you comfort. And that is what I wish for you. Comfort and peace, and a welcoming family when you finally do gather once again.

What They Gave Me by Nannette Croce

Like so many I am all too ready to blame my parents for what I did or didn’t do in life. Growing up with an extended Italian family I can spread the blame around to aunts and uncles as well. But in recent years, as most of them have passed away or aged, I’m softening my view and seeing what I gained from each of those people who played such major role in my formative years.

My Mom gave me my quick wit, heightened sense of justice, and fashion sense.

My Dad, the Engineer, gave me my organizational skills, my logical approach to problem solving, and my slightly more tempered ambition.

My Aunt Jeannette, the intellectual of the family, gave me a love of history and also entrusted to me all the important family papers and journals, even though I was not the oldest, but knowing I would most appreciate them. Uncle Fred, the only non-Italian, taught me how the rest of the world lives and that with an open mind and a big heart, you will never be an outsider.

Aunt Thelma, with no children of her own, told wonderful stories and taught me not to forget my inner child, even when I had one of my own. While her artistic ability skipped my generation, she passed it to two grandnieces. Uncle Bill, the “gregarious one” taught me how to enjoy good wine and the society of friends and family, and, eventually, how to accept death with grace and dignity.

Yes, there were drawbacks growing up with so many people poking noses into my business, but as the years pass on, I realize it’s the benefits that maintained the strongest hold.

Moments of Solitude by Nannette Croce

Being alone doesn’t necessarily mean being lonely. One person feels alone in a crowd, another is “her own best company.”

I don’t know if I am my best company, but I find myself very good company.

Seems more and more people almost fear solitude. They walk around with tiny phones clipped to their ears so they can talk constantly, in the car, the grocery store, while exercising. If not talking, they IM or chat. Keeping constant contact is the mantra of our time. No one says, “leave me alone” anymore.

I not only enjoy being left alone from time to time, I need it to stay balanced.

I make my best decisions alone. I may solicit an opinion now and then, but I consider that opinion, and all others, in solitude. Ultimately no one knows me as well as I know myself. Many people can’t say that, but I think that is because they spend little time alone, getting to know themselves.

I am grateful for the people who enrich my life, but I am also grateful for those moments of solitude. They enrich my life as well.

All Warm Inside by Nannette Croce

A few days ago in my area a predicted rain changed to unpredicted snow around late afternoon. The accumulation was only 1-3 inches, but with temperatures holding at freezing, it played havoc with rush hour traffic, or so the radio said. Watching the heavy wet flakes stack up on the driveway and street, my mind drifted back to times spent idling in traffic while the sky grew dark. Jumping out of my car every so often to remove caked snow from my wipers, the only consolation being that mine was not one of the cars that skidded into each other a mile up the road. I remembered the time the Fed Ex guy hooked a chain to his van and pulled me out of a ditch when the road out of the corporate center had become indistinguishable.Then there was the afternoon and evening spent chasing after an over-stimulated two-year-old waiting for her Dad, whose company had shut down at noon, to come home and play in the snow. It was 7:00PM before I saw his car struggling to make those last few feet to the driveway. And oh those many mornings listening to lists of school closing numbers while running the limited childcare options over in my mind.

I went downstairs and poked my head into my husband’s office, knowing he’d be too engrossed in work to check the weather.

“Feel like making a fire? It’s snowing.”

“Hey, yeah. Can you make us some coffee?”

We took our laptops into the family room, sipped coffee in front of a warm fire, and, from time to time, remembered other winter events in the days when we had no choice but to take to the road.