Kimmie Cont...

      The funeral took place in Red Wing, Minnesota, about an hour south of where my family and I lived. We were staying in a hotel because the wake was the first night and the funeral the next day. I didn’t even know what a wake was until this experience.
     I remember getting ready in the hotel room. Every one of my family members had little or nothing to say. How does one prepare for the wake of a baby? I had only seen her one time in her short life. She was born in the fall and attended either the Haider Thanksgiving party or the Haider Christmas party, I can’t remember, but she was a sweet little girl and I was lucky enough to hold her for a time. Nobody knew that it would be the last time any of us would see her. These unsettling thoughts flooded my head as we combed our hair and put on our dresses.
     Once we were ready to leave, I looked at the six of us and believed that our dark, drab clothes perfectly expressed the sadness we felt on the inside. We slowly walked to the car, piled in and quietly drove a torturous ten minute drive to the funeral home. I had a million thoughts running through my head and my worst stomachache to date. Then in the blink of an eye we arrived.
     I swear to you that I have never forgotten the smell of that funeral home. Even though Lilys are beautiful flowers, their bouquet will always remind me of that gorgeous baby’s funeral and the unbelievably chilling atmosphere. I had never seen my family in such despair. There were no smiles, just countless tearful embraces. Haider family gatherings were usually loud and full of laughter but not today. Losing that baby girl had broken everyone’s heart.
     My sisters and I huddled together, unsure of where to go and what to say. We simply hugged anyone who walked by while shaking our heads and wiping our noses. And then I saw it. As the sea of people thinned out, Kimmie’s open casket became visible. I started to panic. Knowing that she had passed was one thing, but actually seeing her dead body was another. Anxiety shot through my limbs and I felt as though I would collapse. My dad must have noticed my elevated stress level because he walked over to me and gave me a hug.
     Somehow he calmed me down and through some carefully chosen words, he convinced my sisters and me to approach our baby cousin. I cannot remember what he said exactly, but it must have been good.
     We held each other tight and sobbed as we moved closer and closer to her. She looked beautiful. I could not believe that that little baby was alive one minute and gone the next. Why…why…why…?
     I was so mad. So mad I could not see straight. Her little life was way too short. She did not get enough time to experience life and we didn’t get enough time to get to know her. Tears were streaming down my face as these thoughts sped through my mind.
     Then, for some unknown reason, my body went against all of my impulses and I found my hand reaching out to touch her. She looked so soft and warm but in reality, her face was rock hard and cold to the touch. My heart nearly stopped and it was at that moment that I decided to step away from the body that used to house my cousin. The reality of death had just become too much for me to handle.
     As I backed away, I noticed Kimmie’s older brother and sister running around the room. They were about two and three years old and seemed to be having a great time. They were dodging in and out of people, running up to the casket, touching Kimmie then running away. It was all very innocent yet slightly disturbing. They would never remember her, how could they? The thought made my stomach turn. It was the last time they would ever see their little sister and they were too young to know better.
     The last thing I remember about that wake was the conversation Shelly and I had with my uncle. He sat down with us and just poured his heart out. He was so angry at the loss of his little girl. He wanted answers and knew he would never get them. He wanted her back and knew that it was impossible. He sobbed and we sobbed. It was the saddest moment I had ever experienced. If I could have taken away his pain, I would have. He was such a loving father and all he wanted to do was share that love with his daughter Kimmie.
     I can’t tell you how the conversation ended because I was wiped out, I was pushed to the edge of hysteria. The wake forced emotions out of me that I would not wish upon anyone. And the fact that my family had to go through such debilitating pain made me physically sick. I was not sure how I would make it through another day. But as much as I resisted it, another day came. The day of Kimmie’s funeral.
     As I walked into the church, I was again blasted by the smells of Lilys. Why do funerals have to ruin such a beautiful flower?
     As I scanned the pews, I saw friends and family members forcing back sobs yet allowing tears to fall. And that damn casket, the symbol that is supposed to assist us in the grieving process, sat in the middle aisle like a knife stabbing every one of us in the heart. Nobody could look at that small visual without choking up. It was truly one of the worst sights I have ever seen.
     I wanted that service to end almost as much as I feared for it to begin. That’s the thing about death—it's a no win predicament.
     Like it or not, the priest eventually started the service and it was awful, just awful. We all just held on to one another and cried. There was nothing else we could do.
     Then, the priest turned to my aunt and uncle and motioned them to the altar. Apparently, they were interested in addressing their loved ones. I was shocked. I could barely speak without sobbing, how in the world would they be able to say anything?
     My aunt spoke first. She stood up at that podium and cried through her entire monologue. She told us of a dream she had that contained a number of doors and Kimmie was behind one of them. God told her that Kimmie had done her job and was ready to be with him. I cannot remember all of the dream details exactly but somehow that dream gave my aunt a sense of peace that her baby was alright and that she would see her again someday. It was a moving speech that surprised everyone. There was a mother, in the worst pain imaginable, and she was moving toward the healing process right in front of her friends and family.
     My uncle spoke next, but did not share her sense of peace. He vocalized his anger. He was angry with God for taking his baby. He was not ready to let her go and he could not see a time where he would ever accept her death. It was pretty obvious that he was my blood relative, because I understood every word out of his mouth.
     Both speeches were heartfelt and honest and every person at the funeral felt for the grieving couple without passing judgment. All any of us could do was listen and embrace our loved ones who were suffering.
     Kimmie’s passing devastated every person that I knew. Even acquaintances braced themselves as the news was relayed. A precious baby had left the earth too soon and that reality hurt everyone in its path.
     As a coping mechanism, my sisters and I developed an obsession with Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Every one of us did a report on the subject in high school and then again in college. We needed facts; Facts about the disorder that would help us understand the reasoning behind our cousin’s death. And even though the information recovered was limited, the act of researching assisted us through our grieving process.
     I cannot say that I ever truly got over the passing of my baby cousin. I still think about her today. I wonder about the interests she may have had and the Haider sense of humor she would certainly have inherited. I think about her looks and how they would have resembled her beautiful mother and sisters. The “what if’s” are endless.
     Though Kimmie’s life was short, she sure produced quite an impact on those of us who knew and loved her.
     “Kimmie, we miss you very much. You are still in our thoughts today and will never be forgotten.”

SAD

Kimmie 1988

Age: Fourteen





      How does one recover? Who could ever be prepared? As a fourteen-year-old child, I knew that I was too immature to make sense of it all and now as a thirty-six year old adult, I am certain that no age is mature enough to handle the devastation.
     The story that haunts my memory; that infests my dreams; and that still makes my head shake in disbelief, took place about twenty-five years ago on my uncle’s birthday. The events surrounding that day were passed on from family member to family member leaving the absolute truth slightly jumbled with each new translation. And my aunt and uncle, who experienced everything first hand, initially relayed the awful news under a cloud of panic and despair. The outcome, however, has never changed; the outcome, unfortunately, has always remained the same.
     On that life altering morning, my uncle and aunt awoke with their two oldest children and prepared to celebrate my uncle’s birthday. The baby lay sleeping while they began fixing breakfast. The day seemed normal, yet the fact that the baby was still asleep concerned my uncle. He decided to go in and check on his sweet girl.
     As he approached the crib, he realized that her blanket was positioned up over her little head. His heart began to pound rapidly as he ran in and pulled the blanket down only to discover her blue coloring.
     Panic set in as he ripped the blanket off, picked her up and tried to wake her. When he realized that she was not breathing, he screamed to his wife who ran to him and somehow, through her hysteria, managed to phone 911. My uncle performed CPR while they desperately waited for the ambulance to arrive.
     Unbelievable…unbelievable! How could this happen? Why did this happen? I cannot imagine the thoughts that must have been running through their heads: sheer panic, utter hopelessness, extreme anxiety. Plus, they had two other children to tend to while this horrific event took place. My heart races as I write these words and tears are forming in my eyes. Time has eased the pain, but my memory will not forget the trauma.
     The paramedics eventually arrived at my aunt and uncle’s panic stricken home, but it was too late. My four month old baby cousin, Kimberly Jean, had died and no amount of medical help or knowledge was going to bring her back.
     Having lost their ability to make sense of the world, my aunt and uncle rode with their baby to the hospital. It has been said that my heartbroken aunt sat in a hospital chair and rocked her daughter’s lifeless body for hours without a word.
     I have often pictured her in a state of shock and disbelief while she rocked that lovely baby. Nobody should ever have to feel the pain of losing a child, it is just not fair. Then adding insult to injury, as the terrible event played over and over in my aunt’s head, she ultimately convinced herself that Kimmie had smothered to death in her blanket. Even after hearing that the coroner’s autopsy concluded SIDS to be the cause of death, my aunt could not believe the findings and put the burden on herself for placing a blanket in Kimmie’s crib.
     Who needs those thoughts? Losing a child is bad enough, but placing unnecessary blame is torture.
     Through the thick fog, my shell-shocked uncle somehow managed to call his dad, my grandfather, to relay the awful news. My grandpa always said that losing Kimmie was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He could think of nothing worse than watching his son and daughter-in-law go through that kind of heartache.
     The news hit everyone hard as you can imagine: A full blow to the gut would have been less paralyzing. Nobody knew what to do, how to act, where to begin.
     I was in eighth grade and had never known anyone to die, nor had I even been to a funeral. Death had always freaked me out. I mean it. I used to have panic attacks about death, eternal life, heaven, hell. The uncertainty of the after-life really hit me hard as an adolescent and now I had to face it straight on and not at a funeral where you can celebrate a person’s long life and accomplishments, we had to face it at a funeral where “what could have been and what should have been” would be the focus.

England Cont...

     My dad decided to tackle the driving, oh what a brave man. It’s hard enough to drive on the left side of the road with a small automatic car; I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to drive a bus with a stick shift on the left side. Every driving instinct he had needed to be ignored and full concentration was necessary to drive us around safely. 
     As my dad drove us out of the rental lot, Kate and my mom sat shotgun watching the windshield wipers move wildly. The placement of the wipers and the turn signals on that English vehicle were very confusing to an American driver. The wipers were located in the American car’s turn signal position and turn signal in the wiper’s position. Every time the car made a turn those damn wipers went on, needless to say cuss words out of my dad’s mouth became commonplace during the unforgettable driving experience. I don’t think that our semi muted chuckles helped the situation either. 
     Oxford was our first destination, so at least my dad had time to practice his shuttle bus driving skills on country roads without too much traffic interference. And it was not always pretty. He was so focused on the road and shifting that he often neglected to notice tree limbs that were hanging over the road. Soon we would find ourselves naturally drifting to the left only to hear the sound of branches viciously scraping the side of the car. The sound of those branches would alert my dad causing him to panic then to quickly turn the wheel right, shaking up the luggage and all of us. 
     We all felt so out of control which made everyone, except my dad, laugh uncontrollably. We could not help it. Nothing about the car ride was normal and apparently living on the edge in a beast of a car was humorous to us. 
     My dad eventually lost it, looked into his rear view mirror and yelled, “This is not funny!” Unfortunately for me, the mirror was pointed in my direction so I received his glare along with his frustrated words. I remember a dead silence for a few seconds and then Shelly blurted, “Dad yelled at Ang.” We all looked at each other desperately trying to hold back smirks but we could not compose ourselves and soon burst into laughter. Apparently, if a group of travelers compile jetlag, crazy driving and a beastly car into one experience, the end result is delirious laughter that cannot be controlled. 
     After our laughter subsided, my dad immediately apologized for snapping at me then asked us to assist him with his English driving skills. He encouraged us to yell at him if he was getting too close to the side of the road, a random bush or tree limbs of any kind. He said that this would be the only time he would ever ask us to yell at him, he just had way too much to concentrate on with the car itself and needed more eyes to keep us safely on the road without incident. 
     As we traveled the countryside, my dad white knuckling it at the wheel, Shelly, Lora and I laid down in the back and slept. With sixteen seats back there, we had plenty of room to stretch out. While our dad fought the difficulties brought on by the shuttle bus, we actually enjoyed the many perks it had to offer. 
     Kate and my mom continued to sit shotgun and once the chaos settled down, my mom found some time to daydream about her parents. They had planned on making the trip with us, but because of my grandfather’s heart condition they had to cancel their tickets and stay home. That upset my mother very much and she later spoke with us about her sadness. Of course, we all agreed, that the car ride alone would have given both of her parent’s heart attacks so her sadness about their absence quickly faded. 
     With luck on our side, we reached Oxford in one piece, thank God. The town was so beautiful but unfortunately for us, most of our concentration was on the size of the roads compared to the size of our vehicle. Our tour bus gave us no room for error, yet error we did. My mom, the designated co-pilot, accidentally misread our map so we found ourselves unexpectedly traveling down the wrong street. Now in any other vehicle the wrong street would not have been a big deal, but that street ended in a dead-end and turning a sixteen passenger vehicle around the parameters of a dead-end was not going to be an easy task. 
     As my dad pondered his driving options, his mind cluttered with a million thoughts, he inadvertently hit a pedestrian in the arm with his side mirror. She shot him a look to kill and continued to stare the rest of us down as we drove by her. My dad did not realize that he hit her until we shouted, “Dad, you just hit a woman in the arm with your mirror!” He slammed on the brakes, stuck his head out of the window and tried to apologize to her. Because we were moving about five miles per hour, she was not hurt but she was pissed off. She showed zero interest in his apology and continued to stare him down as he tried to explain himself. It seemed as though she just wanted him to shut up and disappear. Of course, that was impossible for two reasons, the bus was too damn big and because we were heading into the dead-end. 
     Somehow my dad pulled it together enough to make the u-turn look fairly smooth but once we turned around, we had to drive back where we came from only to see the jaded woman again. We all ducked to avoid her evil eye while my dad shot her an “I’m sorry look.” That beast of a vehicle was nothing but trouble. 
     Fortunately, that form of transportation only cursed us and all pedestrians in our path for about a week. We eventually traded it in before heading to Ireland where we would leave the driving to the train conductor. 
     The final memories I have of the car are an eighty dollar parking ticket that we received from parking a vehicle with tandem wheels on a public street and a great picture of my family standing in front of the unforgettable beast. 
     The rental company ultimately paid for the eighty dollar ticket and the hilarious picture of my family sporting huge smiles graces one of the Haider family photo albums.
     I really did enjoy the art, history and architecture of our trip as well!

England 1999

     Stonehenge, Caernarfon castle, the ruins of Bath, St. Andrew’s Golf Course and Trinity College in Dublin are a few of the places my family visited while on a three week excursion to Great Britain and Ireland in 1999.

     The art, the architecture and the history were amazing and the education from such a personal experience, priceless, having said that, you will be shocked to learn that I am not going to write about any of it. The reason for this is that one of the funniest experiences we had involved our transportation and I will never forget it.

     My family arrived in London with enough luggage to clothe a small country. With the knowledge that we would rent a car for the entire trip, my mom got the idea that we should pack heavy and launder less. I’m not saying that her reasoning didn’t make sense, it’s just that European people travel differently than American people; Case in point, the size of one’s luggage.

     For starters, we each had one large piece of luggage on wheels, then we added a duffle bag and a backpack and there we were: the Haider family ready to backpack around Europe.

     Once our luggage had been gathered from baggage claim, we dragged our countless bags across the airport, down the elevator, through a parking lot, to the rental place where we finally stopped at our chosen car rental desk.

     We waited and waited and waited for my dad to get our vehicle. All of us were jet lagged, hungry and now cranky. What was taking so long? After an eternity of impatience, my dad approached us and asked us to follow him to the parking lot with our luggage. The rental place had given us the two largest cars they had on the lot. Yes cars—not car like we had expected.

     We dragged our luggage through the parking lot to the cars and piled the bags inside. It soon became apparent that the six of us and our obscene amount of luggage were never going to fit into those two “large” European cars. What to do, what to do?

     European people don’t just travel differently than Americans, they travel lighter; smaller bags, smaller cars. We looked like a bunch of gluttons trying to squeeze into those mini cars. It was terribly embarrassing. We sheepishly dragged our bags out of the cars and walked back to the lobby.

     The Haider women felt defeated by the embarrassing scene but not my dad. He’s a guy who gets things done, and he knew that there had to be a solution to the problem.

     After much negotiation and multiple trips to and from the parking lot, the rental people and my dad worked out a deal.

     My sisters, Shelly and Lora, followed my dad out to the car while Kate and I stayed with my mom as she signed the paperwork.

     I can honestly say that I was not the least bit prepared for what awaited us in the parking lot. My dad had just returned from the car to help with the remaining bags and directed me to the back of the lot saying, “just look for the biggest vehicle you see and that is our car.” Sure dad, biggest car, back of lot. I was really fighting my jetlag at that point.

     I walked slowly as I scanned my surroundings. Then I saw what looked like an assisted living bus and made a double take. Lora and Shelly were sitting inside of it. What the hell? That cannot be our “car.” The girls saw me coming their way and videotaped my reaction as I approached the beast. With my mouth gaping open and it’s sides curving up, I shook my head in disbelief. The girls were laughing and soon I was laughing along with them. When my dad said “look for the biggest vehicle” I thought conversion van, not city bus.

     The thing was so big that my six foot tall sister Kate could stand in it with room to breathe. A sign in the back read “Capacity Sixteen People.” The thing had an aisle and an emergency exit and there was room for two people to sit shotgun. Plus, it used diesel gas and had tandem wheels in the back. Oh yeah, the stick shift was on the opposite site of the car than at home. We were, after all, in England and now our dad had to drive on the left side of the road shifting with his left hand, how confusing!

     The thought of riding in this massive machine gave my sisters and me the giggles. Then we saw our mom. Her eyes were huge and she was shaking her head no as she approached us. “We cannot ride in this, we cannot ride in this,” was her response.

     My dad said that after much negotiation, it was our only option if we wanted our luggage to travel along with us. Then my mom got the giggles too, and with a few quick glances at one another, we all agreed to accept the beast as our transportation.

So Sorry

Hi People,
I am so sorry that I have missed a few Monday date nights. I have been diligently working on the completion of my book and the marketing strategies. I have now posted the second half of my Hawaii story below and hope you enjoy the conclusion. Look for my book trailer soon!

Hawaii 2

     One of the large group excursions included snorkeling and scuba diving. My certified sisters and dad decided to scuba dive while the rest of the group focused more on snorkeling. I wanted to snorkel so badly but after weighing my options, I chose to hang on the beach with my baby girl instead of joining the group in the water. I was very nervous that a shark would see my pregnant bod, mistake me for a large seal and have me for dinner. Dry land seemed to be a safer option, although Tina’s godfather thought otherwise.
     He is a Hawaiian cop and was very concerned with our choice of beach for our water activities. I guess many illegal happenings had occurred in that park and he was concerned for our safety. Luckily for us, he sent out a squad car to monitor the area while we enjoyed ourselves.
     But even with a police escort, my mother, with her sometimes skeptical attitude, thought that she should also monitor the area. She literally sat in a lawn chair next to the cars the entire time we were at the beach. I’m not sure what she thought she was going to do if someone actually tried to break into the cars, but she sat there just the same. I knew I got my stubbornness from someone. We all tried to convince her that a cop with a gun had a much better chance with “the bad guys” than she did as a fifty-four year old female, non-cop. She did not listen to our reasoning so we gave up and chose the beach over the parking lot. And in case you were wondering, “the bad guys” never showed up.
     Following our scuba/snorkeling outing, Tina’s godparents invited our entire group to Ala Moana Park the next afternoon for a real Hawaiian barbeque. How exciting!
     The barbeque was on a Sunday and apparently it was the thing to do that day because every Hawaiian on Oahu seemed to be grilling out in the park. Because of their experience with that particular park, Tina’s godparents showed up early and found us a nice spot on a peninsula and were well into the cooking process by the time we met up with them.
     My dad and I decided to strike up a conversation about Hawaii with Tina’s godfather as he cooked Hawaiian hot dogs. We both love Hawaii and wanted to know about his family and the Hawaiian culture but we could not stop staring at the hot dogs. They were red, bright red, almost fluorescent. I swear to you, I have never seen hot dogs like that before. With a little convincing, I did finally take a bite and they tasted the same as an everyday dog. I just hope that they were not as radioactive as they looked.
     While we tried to relax in the park, my daughter ran around like crazy exercising her little legs. Her favorite thing to say on this trip was “walk? walk?” She was just learning to speak and the word walk came out of her mouth most of the day starting at six o’clock every morning. Everyone in our group assisted me by taking turns walking with her because my pregnant body could only take so much. My girl and I were so lucky to have so many loving people around willing to help us out.
     The other focus at the barbeque, besides the hot dogs and my baby girl, was Tina and Luke’s wedding. Even though we were all on vacation, we were also extremely excited get moving on the wedding plans. We could not wait for the two love birds to tie the knot.
     First of all, we attended the groom’s dinner at Duke’s Restaurant and Barefoot Bar. That place has everything a person could ask for when visiting a tropical island. It has tiki torches, thatched umbrellas, a great view of the beach and ocean and great food. We ate, drank and enjoyed Tina and Luke’s last night of singledom.
     Later that night, the guys got together for a stag party in one of our hotel rooms and the girls hosted a shower/bachelorette party for the bride-to-be in another room. I can’t speak for the guys but the girls had a blast. We laughed, played naughty games and gave Tina naughty presents. We know how to have a good time.
     The wedding was the next day and took place midweek, leaving the bride and groom ample time for a honeymoon. And crazy enough, it was cold that day. When I lived in Hawaii, it did not get below eighty degrees ever but that day it was maybe seventy and windy. We were cold and we are from Minnesota. Nobody anticipated cold weather, so we were lucky if we had a light sweater in our luggage.
     We all met in the lobby of the hotel and received a lot of attention. Weddings in Hawaii are very common but being a part of one made all of us feel very special. We all looked great and were beaming from ear to ear.
     Once we arrived at the wedding site, the location helped us forget about the cold, for a while anyway. The site overlooked the ocean on a rocky cliff with Diamond Head in the background. Then beautiful trellises with flowers and vines enhanced the atmosphere while my dad strolled around playing the ukulele Tina’s Godparents brought to the wedding. Luke’s mom, brother and friend also joined us at the last minute giving us a grand total of twenty-two people at the destination wedding.
     My daughter was slated to be the flower girl and had practiced her flower tossing moves with Tina’s sisters before the main event, but once the wedding began, she decided to give up her roll and explore her surroundings instead. Luckily, someone videotaped the wedding because I missed the whole thing chasing after her. And let me tell you, running after an eighteen month old child in heals and pregnant was not an easy task.
     What I did experience during my time at the wedding, was ultimate joy. Tina looked beautiful and Luke as handsome as ever. Our mothers cried for most of the ceremony along with the bride, groom and all of the sisters. We are quite an emotional group.
     The pictures followed the nuptials and they were amazing. The ocean surrounded the backdrop with Diamond Head in the far distance. The sun was setting as everyone radiated happy thoughts toward the bride and groom. Even though it was cold, the pictures captured the spirit of the event not the goose bumps. I am now a huge fan of destination weddings after that wonderful experience.
     Eventually we had hit our tolerance of cold, windy weather so we gathered our things and headed to the Sheraton for the reception. I just love that hotel. It looks like an old southern manor with white porches surrounding it and the most beautiful banyan tree filling the entire outdoor patio. Then you add the smell of the ocean, the sound of live Hawaiian music and a loving family—what more could one ask for? That is what life is all about. If you don’t have family and friends to share life’s great moments, you don’t have anything. I feel blessed to understand this much about life at my age. Thank you, Haider and Fonio families, for your everlasting love, constant support and for a fabulous vacation.

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Hawaii 2009

Age: Thirty-Four

     The Haider and Fonio Families decided to visit Hawaii in 2009. It was going to be an awesome vacation and fifteen of us would be making the trip. Well, fifteen and a half. I was six months pregnant with my soon to be, ten pound, twenty-three and a half inch baby boy. Now that is another story for another time.

     Two weeks before our departure, the eldest Fonio daughter, Tina, and her boyfriend Luke, announced to everyone that they were engaged to be married. Everyone just went crazy. There were hugs and kisses and tears and laughter. It would be the third wedding in our group and we loved any excuse to celebrate. Then the news got juicier. Once we all calmed down, they had one more announcement: They were to be married in Hawaii during our family vacation.

     The news stunned everyone. A few seconds passed and then you could see everyone’s wheels turning. How could they plan an entire wedding in two weeks? What should we do? How can we help?

     Noticing our concern, Tina tried to calm us down by saying, “It’s already been planned so you don’t need to worry about anything.”

     Before their announcement, Tina and Luke made a few phone calls, found a minister to marry them (by the ocean, of course), contacted a florist and called my favorite hotel, The Sheraton Moana Surfrider, and arranged a reception. It was all done—we just needed to show up!

     Wow, what a huge surprise! It actually took us longer to absorb the wedding news than it did for us to begin discussing dresses, the bridal shower and the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Tina and Luke were so cute to think that everything had been planned.

     Who knew that a trip to Hawaii could get more exciting, but there we were packing for a tropical vacation and a destination wedding.

     With the shower and bachelor/bachelorette parties nearly organized, dress shopping became the main focus. Well, the main focus for everyone except for me. I looked like a whale in every outfit I owned. And I still had four months to go! Luckily, I felt pretty good during my second trimester, so traveling was not the problem; fitting into any article of clothing was my problem.

     I tried to calm myself down by focusing on the positive. Okay what was the positive? Oh yes, my breasts were glorious. I swear from the chest up, I could have modeled swimsuits. That’s one part of my pregnant body I wish I could have kept. And my skin glowed like never before. For some reason, my pregnancy hormones fixed an acne problem that still haunts me today. No skin care product has ever treated my skin as well as those pregnancy hormones. Oh, how I long for that beautiful complexion again.

     Anyway, with my mom as trip director, fifteen and a half people caravanned to the airport and successfully boarded a plane bound for the Hawaiian Islands. We were a bit nervous about the eight hour flight with my eighteen month old daughter, but she traveled beautifully. She was, after all, the only grandchild at this point and was spoiled rotten with attention. And just as we started feeling a bit of cabin fever, the pilot announced our decent.

     Arriving in Hawaii is an awesome sight. The ocean turns from a deep, dark blue to an aquamarine that gives me chills just thinking about it. The Diamond Head Crater is majestic as it dominates the skyline of Honolulu and the lush green mountains in the backdrop are simply breathtaking. The open airport also plays a role Hawaii’s positive energy by allowing all travelers to feel the Hawaiian heat just by stepping off the airplane. And it felt so much better than the Minnesota winter we had left behind.

     Once organized, we hopped into our rental cars and headed for The Sheraton Waikiki Hotel. And if the word Waikiki doesn’t give it away, we stayed right along the beach, overlooking the ocean. It was truly awesome.

     Our rooms were a nice compliment to the atmosphere except for the placement. Somewhere in the midst of the room chaos, my sister Kate and her husband Adam acquired an adjoining room with my growing family. I was so worried that my baby girl would overstay her welcome next door but she managed to play it pretty cool. She’s a cool kid and I’m not just saying that because I am her mom (smile).

     My girl and the rest of us, totally embraced the island life by spending our days on Waikiki Beach basking in the sun and floating in the ocean. Of course, my beach body gave the term beach body, a whole new meaning. Let me reiterate for a second here, I looked like a whale in street clothes, so you can only imagine what my body looked like in my tankini. I was a sight. I like to believe that the glow from my butt white skin actually made it difficult for people to stare directly at me, sort of like the sun, making me somewhat camouflaged, if you will.

     My girl, on the other hand, was a hit. My mom had given her this purple leotard with a tutu and a headband that screamed, “Look at me!” And people did. One group of Japanese tourists took pictures of her, then approached me only to say, “Thank you for the pleasurable moment.” I smiled slightly confused, then chose to believe that they meant “she’s adorable.” It was fun to see my shy, little girl strut her stuff in that outfit. It sure brought out her inner Diva.

     And then there was “Big Baby.”

     “Big Baby” was a doll that my sister Kate had as a child. The thing was frightening to look at because it looked surprisingly real, disturbingly real, actually. My mom stashed it in a bag of old baby toys for years and my little babe ultimately found it and unfortunately loved it.

     I tried to be sneaky and remove “Big Baby” from our luggage before we left, but my girl noticed the disturbing toy’s absence and I was left with no choice. “Big Baby” was heading to the Hawaiian Islands.

     That horrible, life-like doll went everywhere with us, including the beach! You should have seen the double takes people made as we carried it in our beach bag with its head poking out or when we casually tossed it on our beach towel and left it in full sunlight. People must have thought that we were terrible human beings before realizing that it was a doll because bursts of laughter would follow disapproving looks and camera flashes would follow the laughter. “Big Baby” is probably on the internet somewhere with a caption reading, “World’s worst parents ever.”

     The last “Big Baby” incident occurred as we deplaned in the Minneapolis airport. As I walked by a flight attendant holding the doll I heard, “You better put some pants on that baby!” I laughed thinking good one until I realized that she was serious. “Big Baby” was wearing only a shirt! No diaper, no pants! I must have looked awful and turned around to explain myself but it was too late, the flight attendant was engulfed by a sea of red-eye passengers. Thanks a lot “Big Baby!”

     Fake baby drama aside, the trip was relatively relaxing. We all went at our own pace, heading out in small groups and large groups. There were little expectations so the mood was casual and cool.

Cruise 1995

Age: Nineteen

As we stood in line to board the cruise ship, I knew that I should be smiling from ear to ear. I was not. I had just been dumped…and was not happy about it. I was never in love with the guy—not even close. It just hurt that someone didn’t like me anymore. It was the kind of thing that knocks a person into an insecure, unhappy state of mind. Well, the guy sure had crappy timing, because there I was on a family vacation to the Caribbean of all places and stuck in my insecure, unhappy state.

My mom did her best to get me excited by explaining the many wonderful adventures we were about to share in the next week. I humored her with an occasional fake smile but she knew what I was doing. Strangely enough, it satisfied her anyway.

After a painful wait period, we finally boarded the ship, found our rooms, and set out on an exploring exhibition.

I tried to focus on the beauty of the ship and the smell of the ocean rather than my dumped disposition. Then, something caught my attention, rather someones caught our attention. My sister and I spotted two guys about our age. Hmmmm….maybe this trip would be more interesting than I thought.

Then, as if out of a movie script, the two guys approached us and introduced themselves as two cousins from Missouri—two drunken cousins, I might add. I cannot remember if their parents paid for their trip or not, but they were alone and making the best of it. They were also huge 6’4” or 6’5” and good looking as well. Slowly my mood began to change. Maybe this trip was just what I needed to get out of my funk.

We hung out with the guys for a little while, exchanging small talk and flirtatious glances, but soon we noticed the time and had to say good-bye. We were to meet our parents and younger sisters back at our room and get ready for dinner. Shelly and I laughed all the way back to our room. We were on a ship with two cute guys for a week—how exciting!

My entire family dressed up in fancy attire and headed down to dinner. We looked fabulous. And the best part: I was nineteen and of legal drinking age in the Caribbean, and my parents allowed it! I could not believe it. So I took full advantage of my newfound freedom by ordering drinks from time to time and feeling “cool” as I placed my orders.

After dinner we said good-bye to our parents and set out to find our new Missouri boyfriends. And luckily, they were on a mission to find us as well!

As fate would have it, on their way to seek us out, my parents found themselves in the same elevator as the Missouri guys and overheard them say, “Let’s go find those Minnesota girls.” My parents looked nervously at one another feeling pretty certain that “the Minnesota girls” were their teenage daughters.

We did eventually find them at a poolside bar, and their twosome had grown. The new guy was some random they met who was roughly their same age and who looked like Sylvester Stallone. We called him Sly for the rest of the week.

The guys bought Shelly and me some drinks as we got to know each other. Then we moved from the bar to the dance club where we danced all night. We had so much fun and felt as though we had known each other for years.

The morning came soon enough and my family and I found ourselves fighting for lounge chairs. These were highly sought after items. If you got to the deck too late, good luck sunbathing that day.

My parents had heard about the Missouri boys all morning and were on guard. Now that I have kids, I realize how stressful that trip must have been for them. They were trapped on a ship with teenage daughters and teenage boys who wanted to hang out their teenage daughters. Oh man, I bet they questioned their choice of vacation the entire trip.

As soon as we settled ourselves into our lounge chairs, we spotted the guys and they were not shy. They came right over to us and introduced themselves to our family.

Even though my parents were skeptical about two teenage boys hanging around their daughters, they found the guys to be friendly, good-natured and likable.

After our family “meet and greet,” the pool and hot tub were calling our name. We sunbathed and conversed all day long. Joe, one of the Missouri guys, had obviously never heard of sunscreen because he ended up burning his feet so badly that they must have shed three different layers of skin. The poor guy! His skin was much too light to forget sunscreen. I also remember him sitting on the bottom of the pool. Seriously, he jumped into the pool, sank to the bottom and sat there for a long, long time. We had no idea what he was doing down there. Then too much time passed, so his cousin Brad dove in and saved his drowning ass.

On top of his antics, Joe was also infatuated with my sister and could care less that she had a boyfriend at home. He followed her everywhere, finding any excuse to be near her. Shelly enjoyed his company but was mostly interested in just having a good time on vacation. Brad and I, on the other hand, seemed to like each other yet were both a bit distant on the attraction front.

Then one night, while we stood on the edge of the boat watching waves, Brad and I realized we had an unfortunate similarity. We had both been dumped before the cruise. We looked at each other and laughed; what a couple of sorry asses. It bonded us, though, and we each slowly let our guard down.

He was actually a pretty sweet guy. I remember going to a midnight buffet one night and he de-shelled my shrimp for me, and I hated de-shelling shrimp! It grossed me out, and yet I love shrimp, so a seemingly small gesture like that truly melted my heart.

I thought about him that night when I went to sleep. It was nice to feel happy about a guy again. Being dumped and feeling depressed was so overrated.

The rest of the cruise was fun and flirty. Although there seemed to be nothing more than hanging out when it pertained to my sister and Joe, Brad and I continued to have a connection.

The last night of the cruise, Brad and I sat on lawn chairs together. We talked about everything and anything while gazing at the starlit sky, focusing mostly on the big dipper. It was huge and right on the horizon in the Carribean.

I mentioned to him that after the cruise, my family planned on staying in Florida for a few days then would head back home. And crazy enough, we were going to have a layover in St. Louis, Missour.

His ears perked up. “We will meet you there.” He said.

“What?” I questioned.

“If your family is going to stop in St. Louis, we will meet you there. Joe and I live thirty minutes from the airport.”

Butterflies instantly soared through my stomach. “Okay, that would be so cool.” I replied. Then my heart smiled.

We eventually said good-bye without a kiss. I know, I know, such a romantic setting and no kiss. I felt a bond with us though, only time would tell if I was right.

I told my sister about Brad and Joe meeting us in Missouri and she was so excited. I actually felt bad for my mom and dad at that point, because all we could think about during our time in Florida were the memories from the cruise and the chance meeting in St. Louis. Sounds just like a movie doesn’t it?

Even though the boys were chasing after my parent’s girls, my parents liked them. They found them to be genuine guys and really hope that they would keep their word and meet us in the airport.

Then it was judgment day. I remember sitting in the airport with knots in my gut. Would they show? Did they have as much fun as we did? I tried to prepare myself for disappointment because these things don’t really happen in real life but I really wanted to see them. My eyes were continually scanning the crowd when, wouldn’t you know it, through the thick sea of people, we spotted two huge guys holding a sign that read “Haider Family Fan Club.”

The smile on my face must have been priceless. They showed up! We all laughed, including my parents. They were guys who kept their word, or cousins who fell for sisters, the bottom line was that they showed up and we were ecstatic.

That bold gesture was the beginning of a three year relationship for Brad and me. Our time together was real and it was good. He was a great guy then and I can only imagine that he is still a great guy now. Here’s to young, innocent love. I’m so glad that I was lucky enough to experience it.