Lia Paris

Not too long ago
I said “Yes” to my heart
when I learned you were coming into the world.

A baby’s coming!!!
Don’t know how I’ll love again, I thought,
a tiny one . . . full of dreams and stardust
and everything brand new.

What will I do?
How will I love again . . . knowing
someday I’ll have to let go once more?
(Knowing you will make me a dreaded Grandma!!!)

Little did I know that what I dreaded
would become the joy of my life!

And you came . . . My precious Lia
My little teacher . . . pint-sized guru
fairy princess . . brown-eyed beauty

You came with so much love to give
You must have stolen it from angels
I can still see their soft white feathers
floating round your shoulders
when you grace me with your dimpled smile
and capture me with hugs and kisses.

You opened the door to my heart again.
You even stand aside to let me love the others too.
But you and I are twined together with a golden cord,
a cord your darling mother must have weaved
to hold me tight when she was small like you.

I’m forever with you, darling Lia . . . Your Nana

Angels Envy

**This picture took me all the way back to when one of my own babies would fall into sweet sleep at the end of a busy day . . . and how my motherheart would long for the captured moment of their innocence to live on forever. And so I wrote this poem for all young parents who gaze in wonder every night at their little miracles safe and snug . . . while the angels watch.

Angels Envy

Sweet child of our longing
caught in slumber's net tonight
the stars live in your eyes.
Dream your fairy dreams
your tiny body rest.

Bewitched though you may be
in daylight mirth
casting spells
of giddy laughter . . .
this night I see my Cherub
still in heaven's light
a countenance
so fair
that angels envy.

Stay awhile
small and innocent.
Do not fly away just yet
joy of my life
my child.

Joanne Cucinello ©2007

A Beauty Treatment for Nana

Now these little perks don't cost more than a glass of milk and some cookies, but they're soooo worth it. Today I had a Nana Special, compliments of my 2 and 4 year old grandaughters and their eager little hands. All it took were a few small items . . . a brush and comb, some cotton balls, a hand towel and 5 or 6 empty odd shaped plastic containers (for make-believe). The expensive part was my willingness to sit motionless on the floor for about 30 minutes and let the little ones "make Nana pretty".

Oh, they were so busy, going back and forth with their pretending.
I had my hair parted, combed and fluffed . . . in twenty different directions, cotton balls stuck to my eyelashes, make-pretend lotions and creams, shampoos and nail polish . . . just like a day at the Spa! The difference was that after every treatment, my patience was rewarded with little rosebud kisses and teddy bear hugs and the magic words when they handed me my mirror . . . "See, Nana, now you look beautiful!!"

These days fly by like passing clouds, but they'll never leave my heart, nor the heart of my daughter, who watched her little busy bees at work, remembering herself small like them . . . once upon a time.

Loneliness of the Young Mother

It's a very real fact that many young mothers experience deep periods of lonliness and feelings of isolation. It seems to begin soon after delivery. The excitement of bringing a child into the world, the feelings of wonder and pride, the combined exhaustion and elation of childbirth . . . all fleeting, as reality slips in and baby comes home . . . for the rest of your life.
I remember the apprehensive feelings that came over me after childbirth. Here was my first baby at last in my arms, our child with the whole world out there in front of her and totally dependent on ME . . . to keep her alive right now! I would have dreams that I lost her and would find her days later, starving and near death or I'd dream that I forgot I had a baby and weeks later remember . . . just in time, before she withered away.
Other feelings were flooding me with sadness too at this time when I felt I should be so happy. The first nights without her in my belly strangely brought on waves of melancholy. I was just me again, after 9 months of being and feeling "we". Loneliness engulfed me. I could swear I felt her moving still inside me when I slept, as if she left her little ghost behind and I missed wrapping my arms around my baby belly.
My body took care of her while I was pregnant and protected my baby from the world outside, but now things would be different. Doubt and misgivings were threatening to make me feel unworthy of my new rank and title . . . Mother.
I remember coming home from the hospital in the car with my sleeping little Cherub. As my husband pulled up the driveway, I looked at our front door and let out a deep sigh thinking ~ "Now we'll be a family". I had told my mother-in-law that "No thanks, I won't be needing you to stay with us right now. We need time to bond . . . just the three of us." (a statement I would live to regret). I was now Donna Reed and we were both in love with our new baby girl. Everything would be perfect. After all, the nurse at the hospital assured me that newborns sleep for almost 18 hours a day! LIAR!! We walked into our quiet little lovenest and I laid my little sleepyhead in her cradle thinking, well, let's see, she was just fed and changed a half hour ago before we left the hospital. The nurse said "She'll probably wake up hungry in about 3 hours . . . don't worry, she'll let you know." I have never trusted a nurse again!
My coat was barely off when she started screaming . . . and screaming . . . and screaming! What could be wrong? Could she be wet? Check! Nope! Screaming louder now. She can't be hungry, she just ate! My husband said "Look at her, she's starving! Do something . . . QUICK!" Okay, okay,I thought. Calm down, she's an Italian baby, of course she's hungry! This response was the beginning of my bout with cracked nipples.
Three days later, when I came to realize that I was going to DIE . . . I sheepishly called my unappreciated mother-in-law in desperation, pouring my heart out. She was on the train that afternoon and knocking on my door with her suitcase in one hand and a burping cloth in the other. This was a stellar moment in my life; Mary Poppins was closing her umbrella and marching through the door. "What about the bonding?" she asked with a smile. And I said "To hell with the bonding! Thank God you're here!" Little did that sweet Lady know, she'd become my Mary Poppins four more times over the next seven years! My own mother had passed away long before and I felt stranded and alone out in the boondocks of budding Long Island.
Elvira became a lifeline for me as the years went by, my confidant, my helper . . . the mother and grandmother my family came to cherish. After her retirement, she lived with us till she was 93. Elvira was Mom in every way I could have hoped for and her love is legend still to all our family.
She was family and she helped heal the loneliness of a young mother named Joanne.

Loving the Children

It sounds so easy . . . loving the children, but it isn't so easy for everyone, especially those whose childhoods were lived in fear and desperation. When a baby is loved and cared for it comes to know trust and acceptance. The "look of love" is an underestimated gift we pass on to our children. By that I mean, the love that pours forth from the eyes of a parent to his/her child. It is uncontrollable most of the time, but once in awhile we do consciously gaze into our child's eyes and communicate, with or without words, the deep and tender love we have for them.
I am a grandmother now, but sometimes when I close my eyes and think back, I can still remember the look in my parents' eyes when I felt such love. And just the other day, I realized something profound to me. I am blessed to have visits very often, sometimes daily quick pop-ins from one of my grown daughters or sons. It's easy to give a quick hug and kiss, which we mostly do, but the other day I was caught by love. I stood looking at my daughter, how hard she works, how loving and beautiful she is, what a gift she is to me . . . and I realized that I hadn't really held her in my arms and looked into her eyes . . . you know, deeply, and remind her how much she is loved. Yes, we hang up the phone saying "love you", write sentimental birthday cards expressing our love, but this day was different. I took her by surprise, and the surprise was that she responded just as she did when she was little. We rocked for a few long moments in each others arms and tears washed our faces. We both were needing to stop and be really present. These moments happen with each of my grown children, not every day or week or even month . . . but they happen and we are blessed.
So I encourage you to take the step if you haven't already. Give that "look of love" to your child, no matter what his/her age . . . because you know it well . . . time waits for no one and tomorrow may never come.

Silly Poem for Silly Kids (#2)

If My Mother Was A Walrus

If my mother was a Walrus,
I'd be so mad at her.
I'd be so embarrassed and nervous
for her to meet my friends.
She would smell real awful
and make loud terrible noises . . .
and then she'd try to smile
with those big fangs.
IT WOULD BE HORRIBLE !!!
I'd try to tell her to go back in the house
and she'd whack me with one of her flippers . . .
and I'd be out cold on a rock
for the rest of the day!
Then I'd finally come to
and there she'd be again . . . BIGTOOTH !!!
saying "Aw, honey, I wath only kidding! Give Momma a kith."
Yuck! A face full of blubber!
Poor me . . . if my mother was a Walrus!

Joanne Cucinello © 2008

Silly Poem for Silly Kids (#1)

If My Mother Was a Hyena


If my mother was a hyena,
I'd go to the drugstore
and buy earplugs!
I couldn't stand it . . .
laughing all day and all night.
Open the door . . . she's laughing
Close the door . . . she's laughing
Fall and cut your knee . . .
SHE'S LAUGHING!!!
I'd be jumping up and down on the bed
yelling "STOP THAT LAUGHING !!!!
And she'd run around the whole house
laughing even more!
My friend would ring the doorbell
and Mom would open the door . . .
and LAUGH . . .
right in his face!!!
And I know Joey,
he'd run and tell the whole neighborhood
"Hey, Mickey's mother's a laughing hyena!"

What would I do?
I'd have to go to school
with a brown paper bag over my head
and hope she didn't see me sneak
out the back door.

Poor me . . . if my mother was a Hyena !

Joanne Cucinello © 2008