What this baby represents...

"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons." ~Author Unknown

      I don't think anyone can claim that their childhood was a fairytale, there are ups and downs to every story. When I think about the ups that I experienced as a child, a few memories come to mind:

- How the house would smell when my brother and I would tear open the bright red front door of our childhood home in Fairton, NJ, after a long day at school. My mother's culinary creations would saturate every nook and cranny of our large farm house, and the smell I remember the best was hot, gooey chocolate chip cookies perfuming the air. My mom would wait for us either at the door, or, more commonly, behind the kitchen island, that way she could watch us race down our long driveway and pull out the cookies as we were opening the door. She always had a warm, beautiful smile across her face as she'd tell us how much she missed us that day and how excited she was to hear about what we learned. As a child I used to think adults would ask, "what did you learn?" as a form of small talk, they couldn't possibly care about the differences between a Cumulus cloud and a Altocumulus cloud, but as a woman I've come to realize I was wrong. One of my favorite conversations to have with my baby cousins is to find out what they learned that day, it swells me with pride. Anyway, those conversations and her wafting afternoon treats are memories that I consider sacred, and it's a tradition I plan to pass on.

- Another memory I have involves food and my mom again. When I was younger I had a passion for soccer, I would run around chasing that little black and white ball for hours at practice during blazing hot afternoons. I remember the New Jersey heat would be so stifling that you literally felt like you were melting away. I remember seeing my mom's SUV pull into the school parking lot after practice and running over to be greeted by an icy cold air conditioner and McDonalds. My mom always knew exactly what I needed, and she worked hard to keep me comfortable.

- As a child, my parents fostered my tremendous passion for animals. I had countless furry friends, from rabbits to guinea pigs to birds to dogs and cats. One very special friend was my dog Biscuit. He was a gorgeous springer spaniel, with giant splashes of black and white across his body, and expressive brown eyebrows, who was unusually large for his breed and incredibly gentle. He and I would go on countless adventures in the woods, exploring hidden flower patches or climbing broken trees. A few times I packed he and I a picnic lunch and we would go off, finding a lovely patch of God's green earth to nibble on the treats I packed before continuing to explore. He was a wonderful dog, the best dog a young girl could have.

- The last memory I'll share is one time when I got into trouble with my parents, I was young. I was crying in bedroom, angry and upset, when my little brother poked his head into my bedroom. He wasn't older then 6 or 7 years old, and he looked at me with compassion and companionship. He told me not to worry, he'll find me some toys for me to play with and try to convince my parents to un-ground me. Dougie and I have always been each other's defenders.

I'm sitting on the left side of the bench in the back. On the right is my brother and my beautiful mom is standing behind him. This encompasses so many memories, my mom taking Doug and I on some adventure. This one, I believe, is a Brownies meeting

      I could go on and on...most of my very best memories are spent with my mother or outside. I grew up in a very tight-knit family, from both my mother and father's side of the family. My mom was raised in a matriarchal family, supported by strong, educated women who involved themselves in every aspect of eachother's lives. The husbands tended to quietly smile and let their wives take care of family details, which the women were more then happy to do. My Granny and Poppop would host big 4th of July parties in their backyard, there would be swimming, tons of food, and an unlimited supply of popsicles (which one could sneak constantly, if one avoided their mother). My Granna and Poppop would plan all the details of the summer beach house, who's birthday was coming up, and what party they would be hosting. My family took my education very seriously, Granna spending hours going over my home work and correcting my penmanship, wanting nothing to be denied to me based on my grades, encouraging me to take pride in my work. It was an uphill battle for them (why study my "spelling list" when I could be playing outside?) but my family eventually taught me the importance and permanence of an education, money and relationships can be taken away, but you can never be stripped of a degree. My mother's side of my family also taught me the value of loyalty. It didn't matter who was mad at who, if a family member was struggling the mother hens of the family would flutter about, cleaning that family's member house, cooking them meals and encouraging that person to keep moving. If someone became ill, my whole family would encircle them, taking that individual's responsibilities on as their own. I witnessed this first hand with the passing of my great-grandfather. He was surrounded by my family when he passed, my mother watched him take his last breath. There was never moment my Poppop had to struggle alone. I guess that would sum up what my mother's side instilled most into my being: to celebrate life's joys and tread through life's trials together, no one was left behind.

My graduation from CCC with my Associates degree in 2010, this wouldn't have happened if my family hadn't pushed me to believe in myself.

FRONT: Dave, mom, Kevin, Taylor, Granna, me. BACK: Aunt Robin, Uncle Kevin and Poppop. We were celebrating Granna's retirement (2010).

      I also had a strong family relationship from my father's side of the family. He came from a traditional Italian-American family, one of four boys, and the Sorantino's had a traditional patriarchal family structure. Most of my memories include some sort of meal, whether it was Meme's spaghetti and meatballs or her Christmas cookies. I was very close to my little cousins, all of whom were little girls with gigantic personalities. Gabby was my goofball, she had bright, inquisitive blue eyes and had a never ending supply of giggles. Amber also filled Meme's house with laughter, her wit becoming apparent even at a young age. Devan was a soft spoken beauty, she was much quieter then her cousins but very observant and demonstrated early on a strong sense of empathy. Lauren was a bright, fiery child with a go-getter personality and a charming, baby-doll face. These little girls encompass so many wonderful memories with the Sorantino side of my family. The many sleep overs where Meme would let us play with her makeup, hair clips and scarves until we came up with the perfect looks, which we would then model for Meme in a runway style show. She would laugh happily, snapping pictures and clapping. My Meme and Poppop taught me the value of creativity and individuality. Meme, who was an art teacher, loved to fine tune my artistic talents, challenging me to look closely at a painting and notice colors I hadn't seen before. She introduced me to exotic historical figures like Renoir, Cezanne, and Monet, I liked to hear her pronounce their names, even though it would be years before I understood just how valuable their works were to the fine arts. She was an enthusiastic cheerleader for my artistic achievements, and helped me become the expressive individual I am today.
 

Dougie and I at Meme and Popppop's house. By the looks of this picture it must have been her annual Christmas Eve party.

Some afternoon tea with my beautiful Meme and cousins. Left to right: Devan, me, Meme, Lauren, Gabby

      I have many beautiful memories from my childhood and my family groomed certain traits into my emotional DNA that I'm thankful for, however, there's always gray clouds surrounding a rainbow. I won't go into many details, but I will say this, through the hard times the people I listed remained by my side. Eventually my wonderful husband entered the picture (in fact, he officially asked me to be his girl friend 7 years ago today!) and my mom re-married a kind-hearted man name David Ale, who inter-meshed with my family perfectly. Last night my mom and I talked about the harder times we shared as I was growing up, and some times in her life where she struggled, and how different this baby's life will be. My husband and I had a similar conversation a few days ago. This baby represents a promise, a new beginning. A chance to protect my child from things I wish I didn't have to go through, and a chance to celebrate experiences that I cherished. I hope this baby lets my Granna teach her how to properly hold a pencil, that she enjoys the crystal blue water in Granna and Poppop's pool as they show her how to hold her breath under water, that she savors every bite of Granna's rainbow pancakes. I hope this baby learns the value of hardwork, education and loyalty. I hope this baby watches Meme flutter her pencil across a canvas, deciding at which angle she wants to begin. I hope he shares his thoughts and ideas about life and faith with her over a plate of cookies. I hope I'm the type of mother who brings about cherished, lasting memories about everyday occurrences, like how my house smells when I cook. Most importantly, I hope this child can see all the beauty I saw, and reaches far beyond my capabilities.

      You, my darling, are a beautiful promise