I have a post started about Christmas Eve. I could easily write 7 posts about Christmas break, but later I will write one to sum it up because I don't have time to write 7 posts.
That is the subject of this post. "I don't have time." Seriously, I want to write. I want to be a writer, but I don't have time. I know that sounds like a crock. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. I know it's a matter of priorities, but what exactly do I knock off my priority list to add regular writing? The kids? My students/my job? Dishes, laundry? Grading? My husband?
I don't exercise. When I met with my doctor about taking an antidepressant (i.e. my crazy pill) and then with my minister about everything going on, they both suggested I see a counselor. I agree, anyone who has had the last year I have could benefit from counseling, but when?
When I talked to my minister I was also telling him I needed to step down from my volunteering with the youth group. I loved it, but something had to give. I used to attend an adult faith discussion once a week, loved it. Haven't been since the October before last. I do go to church almost every Sunday and go to book club once a month. It needs to be pretty serious to keep me from book club. I also "chit chat" at school sometimes when I should be grading and I spend a significant amount of time on the phone with a sister or other. But I process things by talking and I've had a few things to process lately. If I shared all I need to get out with my OM (Old Man) his head would blow up. Besides I'm rarely just talking on the phone, I'm usually breast feeding or pumping, doing the dishes or folding laundry while I'm talking.
You'll notice I didn't put sleep on my list to give up. That is not an option. Me getting any less sleep than I currently have been is very counter productive to my home life and my work. I've tried it. And I do read everyday. That's not going anywhere. I read every night before going to sleep and spare moments through out the day, while eating breakfast, breast feeding, on the toilet, doctor offices, during silent reading at school among other times and places. I even used to read at stop lights. A fender bender 12 years ago stopped that! Giving reading up is also counter productive. Some of my reading is for school and it builds my writing, I'm sure. But most of all, I am a bitch if I don't have a novel or memoir going.
I sat down to write this post a couple hours ago. OM had taken the guys over to his mom's empty house to watch the Oregon Ducks on her cable. It was just Hope and me home. I decided to ignore the dirty dishes in the sink as well as the clean laundry all over the floor. I wasn't going to sort through the bills or finish addressing the Christmas Cards (yes, I know it's January 10th, I'm still going to send them out! I spent the money on the damn things). I wasn't going finish grading the quiz my students' took of Friday. No, I was going to write this post come heck or high water... or poop. I had written less then a paragraph when I realized Hope was poopy. sigh. I changed her and went back to write two more paragraphs when OM and the guys came home. They couldn't get MIL's tv to work.
So here it is, 11:03 and I am finally finishing this post. It may not be my greatest writing, but it's about to be published. Because I've got to go brush my teeth, take my crazy pill, read a little and go to sleep. Tomorrow's another busy, busy day.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Eve of Christmas Eve
Happy almost Christmas Eve! We are traveling on Christmas Day again (well, that's the plan anyway. It is snowing pretty hard right now so we will see.) The guys opened most their gifts from us on Saturday. Hope did too, she loves her Leapster Violet, but she obviously doesn't get it yet. I didn't want them to open the gifts quite so early, but I haven't been up to fighting about much lately which is also why we are flying out Christmas Day. The guys convinced Jim to let them open their gifts last week when Grandma Z came over with her gifts. We are all going to be together in NC, but why bring all the gifts out there to open and then haul them back? Makes no sense, so last year and this year we had a family Christmas with Grandma Nancy and then another with the rest of the fam in NC. The guys really wanted to open their gifts from us that day so they could play with them before we left. And I gave in.
My mom's birthday was Christmas Day, have I ever mentioned that? My birthday is the 18th of December, exactly a week before Mom's. When I was a kid, Mom did a good job of recognizing my birthday as equally as she did everyone else's. JJ's birthday is December 27, I think she would say the same thing. Not that birthdays were huge at our house. We would get a gift or two, a birthday cake, and the day off from any chores. I remember having friends over night in the middle of the summer since it never worked to have them overnight in December. I really don't remember feeling short shifted as a kid. As an adult, it's been a little different since there is always some commitment I HAVE to attend, Christmas pageant, extended family celebration, work party, always something.
Last year was different though. Jim and the guys had already flown to NC. I couldn't leave yet because my contract does not allow me to take personal days before a holiday break. So I spent a couple days alone in my house. Just me and Hope and she was still inside, I was 16 weeks or so pregnant. I adore my family, but a couple of days alone in my house was wonderful! I actually had my grades turned in early (first and only time that has happened). My birthday was the last day of school before break. I watched movies with my students; some gave me gifts. I left work at noon to meet Mom and Dad at Mom's favorite Chinese restaurant here in town. Then Dad dropped Mom and me off at my doctor's office. He did some Christmas shopping at Wal-mart while Mom went to my regular check up with me. It was just one of those quick check ins, but Mom got to hear the baby's heartbeat. She got a kick out of that, as far as I know, Hope is the only grandchild whose heartbeat she heard in vitro.
The Mom and Dad drove me to the city to the north and dropped me off at the airport. I started a new book on the flight, I flew all alone. My hubby picked me up at the NC airport and I got to see my guys before going to bed.
It was probably my best "adult" birthday. It was also the last "normal" day I spent with my mom.
My mom's birthday was Christmas Day, have I ever mentioned that? My birthday is the 18th of December, exactly a week before Mom's. When I was a kid, Mom did a good job of recognizing my birthday as equally as she did everyone else's. JJ's birthday is December 27, I think she would say the same thing. Not that birthdays were huge at our house. We would get a gift or two, a birthday cake, and the day off from any chores. I remember having friends over night in the middle of the summer since it never worked to have them overnight in December. I really don't remember feeling short shifted as a kid. As an adult, it's been a little different since there is always some commitment I HAVE to attend, Christmas pageant, extended family celebration, work party, always something.
Last year was different though. Jim and the guys had already flown to NC. I couldn't leave yet because my contract does not allow me to take personal days before a holiday break. So I spent a couple days alone in my house. Just me and Hope and she was still inside, I was 16 weeks or so pregnant. I adore my family, but a couple of days alone in my house was wonderful! I actually had my grades turned in early (first and only time that has happened). My birthday was the last day of school before break. I watched movies with my students; some gave me gifts. I left work at noon to meet Mom and Dad at Mom's favorite Chinese restaurant here in town. Then Dad dropped Mom and me off at my doctor's office. He did some Christmas shopping at Wal-mart while Mom went to my regular check up with me. It was just one of those quick check ins, but Mom got to hear the baby's heartbeat. She got a kick out of that, as far as I know, Hope is the only grandchild whose heartbeat she heard in vitro.
The Mom and Dad drove me to the city to the north and dropped me off at the airport. I started a new book on the flight, I flew all alone. My hubby picked me up at the NC airport and I got to see my guys before going to bed.
It was probably my best "adult" birthday. It was also the last "normal" day I spent with my mom.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
A day for me
I took Thursday off from work just because I needed a day. I felt like I was drowning both at home and at work and I just... needed...a...day. I felt a bit guilty. Cali is not doing well (another post I can't even think of starting right now) and I will definitely be going out to California at least once if not twice in the next couple months and I feel bad just taking a random day off, but I needed it.
It was a lovely day. I had to get up to take the guys to school and Hope to daycare. Yes, I was home and I took Hope to daycare. As I said, I needed a day. I'm glad I had to get up to take them, it would have been easy to sleep the day away. I cleaned my kitchen, cleared off counters that haven't seen sunlight in a loonngg time. Didn't get into the cupboards, maybe next time. My MIL came over and we did some on line shopping. Up to that point, I'd bought one thing for Christmas.
I got to drink coffee and watch The View. I did some organizing, some laundry, and talked to my sister Jill while I was doing it. I picked up the kiddos early and we went to the biggish city to the south and had their picture taken with Santa. And we did some shopping together, always an adventure. The guys had appointments with JJ, who happens to be their occupational therapist. Afterwords we went the her house. Her son G and Joey are bestest friends, I think Joe was more excited to have supper at their house than he was about seeing Santa.
One area I organized was my recipe drawer. You have one of those right? When I find a recipe I like, I tear it out of the magazine, or whatever, and through it in the drawer. I decided I wanted to store something else in the current recipe drawer. If I was going to empty the drawer, I may as well organize it. So I filled a 3 ring binder with page protectors and I started sorting!
Besides the magazine recipes, there were some printed from on-line sources, and some handwritten. Mostly written in my quick scrawl, but some were in my mom's neat cursive. She had really beautiful handwriting. Mine can be neat if I take the time, but Mom's was always lovely. She didn't write often, I think the fact that several of her daughters were English majors was bewildering to her. She was proud of us, but it was not something she could imagine doing. So finding the recipe cards touched my heart.
It was a lovely day. I had to get up to take the guys to school and Hope to daycare. Yes, I was home and I took Hope to daycare. As I said, I needed a day. I'm glad I had to get up to take them, it would have been easy to sleep the day away. I cleaned my kitchen, cleared off counters that haven't seen sunlight in a loonngg time. Didn't get into the cupboards, maybe next time. My MIL came over and we did some on line shopping. Up to that point, I'd bought one thing for Christmas.
I got to drink coffee and watch The View. I did some organizing, some laundry, and talked to my sister Jill while I was doing it. I picked up the kiddos early and we went to the biggish city to the south and had their picture taken with Santa. And we did some shopping together, always an adventure. The guys had appointments with JJ, who happens to be their occupational therapist. Afterwords we went the her house. Her son G and Joey are bestest friends, I think Joe was more excited to have supper at their house than he was about seeing Santa.
One area I organized was my recipe drawer. You have one of those right? When I find a recipe I like, I tear it out of the magazine, or whatever, and through it in the drawer. I decided I wanted to store something else in the current recipe drawer. If I was going to empty the drawer, I may as well organize it. So I filled a 3 ring binder with page protectors and I started sorting!
Besides the magazine recipes, there were some printed from on-line sources, and some handwritten. Mostly written in my quick scrawl, but some were in my mom's neat cursive. She had really beautiful handwriting. Mine can be neat if I take the time, but Mom's was always lovely. She didn't write often, I think the fact that several of her daughters were English majors was bewildering to her. She was proud of us, but it was not something she could imagine doing. So finding the recipe cards touched my heart.
Mom baked a lot. I guess she enjoyed it, although I think it was more about enjoying the eating part. When I was growing up, we almost always had some kind of baked good in the house, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, no egg chocolate cake, or some such thing. I thought everyone did. Mom didn't get real fancy with her baking, some time she frosted the brownies, but often not. I only remember decorating cookies together a time or two when I was growing up. Maybe she did it more with the older kids. She was pretty busy after the last four were born in less than four years. I think she also baked when we were all at home because her simple brownies and cookies were cheaper than snacks at the store. We had a sweet for bedtime snack almost every night growing up.
As we got older, she still baked, although not as often. But if she came to my house to care for my kiddos she almost always baked with them. She didn't bake with me often growing up. I remember when Mom decided it was time for me to learn to bake. She got all the ingredients out, showed me where the measuring utensils were, handed me the recipe, and left the room. She told me to holler if I needed help, but it she stayed in the room she would end up taking over for me. Mom knew her strengths, and teaching baking wasn't one of them. Nor was teaching driving, but that's a story for another time.
I fancy myself to be a domestic goddess. I'm not, but I fancy myself to be. I will go months without touching my Kitchen Aid mixer, except to make my much loved pizza dough. But then occasional I will go crazy with the baking. I always make homemade cinnamon rolls on snow days. Again, Mom was a bit bemused about my desire for from scratch deserts. Last December I was planning how to make cinnamon rolls for the family at our Christmas gathering and Mom responded with, "You can just buy those you know!" Man I miss that woman!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Fall
Hi, remember me? I'm still here. I was going to blame my long hiatus on going back to work, but since I didn't write at all during July, that wouldn't be completely honest.
We're doing okay here. Really, really busy. I thought I was busy before, now it is just nuts. Hope is a good baby, almost all the time. She likes people to pay attention to her. If she realizes she is alone in the room, she throws a fit until someone entertains her. After a couple rough months, nursing is going very smoothly. She's growing like a weed, rolling and sitting for very short periods of time. She is on her 4th cold since starting daycare in August. That's getting all sorts of old, but what cha gonna do?
The guys are doing well. Jon in 3rd grade and Joe in 1st. Jon has become a true reader. He read all 5 of the Percy Jackson books in just a couple weeks. I love catching him in a corner, devouring a book. And since Jon is spending more time reading, Joey has decided he should too. Love it when peer pressure works to my advantage!
Jim taught more a small private college in the biggish city to the south. His title change to "visiting instructor" and his pay was increased, woo hoo! But still no benies, boo! I think he enjoys what he's doing, all freshman English. I think he misses the English as a Second Language learners. They tend to be much more excited about learning than your typical Midwestern nineteen year old. But he feels appreciated there, and that helps.
And me you ask? I'm aright, I guess, most the time. I love teaching 8th grade English, much more than I'd anticipated. Love the books, the discussion, and even some of the attitudes. I rarely have to wonder what they are thinking for long. I really do love it.
But.... you knew that was coming right? I am so insanely busy. I know I started the post with that, but seriously I feel like that old chicken without it's head most the time. I work my tail off at work, and spend a some time chit chatting with adults, is that so bad? But I'm constantly behind on my grading and often my planning. And as for my house, sigh... I currently have two laundry rooms, the dirty one and the clean one, formally known as the family room. Every morning I send the guys downstairs to find clean socks and undies and often pants. They are not fans of said running.
A couple pics to sum up the last couple months.
In their Cowboy gear, although Joe has decided he is a Chiefs fan.We still love him.
The Mario Brothers and a little monster.
The only picture I have of them on my camera was taken at the mall a couple days before the big day. I forgot to charge my camera battery for Halloween.
Me and my favorite God daughter, my only God daughter: )
My sister Jill's little girl the day after her baptism.
Again, I'd forgotten my camera on the big day: (
Hopester in her cousin's jumping thingy mabob.
You can't tell from this pic, but she loved it
The kids at the 2nd annual Friends' retreat at a near by state park.
The cabins are way nicer than my house.
Friday night was our friends and their kiddos.
Saturday was my book club.
Very different evenings, but both were great.
Forgot to take the camera out Saturday night, are you noticing a trend?
The BIG day.The day my sister's foster children became her son and daughter.
My daughter and my niece, sleeping after Thanksgiving dinner.
Hallelujah and Amen
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Take me to the water
I'm doing okay. Really I am, until I'm not. Sometimes it can feel just that sudden. Yesterday was one of those suddenly I'm not. My MIL and I were discussing Hope's baptism. I won't go into details, but we had different ideas on the ceremony. When I explained my thoughts, she looked crestfallen.
Okay, maybe I need a little detail. Children at our church are often baptised by more than just the pastor. When Joe was baptised, the pastor, deacon, Jim, I and even 3 year old Jon sprinkled water on him. MIL made a comment alluding to the fact that the aunts and uncles would be baptising Hope as well as the grandparents. Umm.... no. First of all, do you know how long that would take? My 5 siblings (Cali won't be making the trip back) plus their spouses. Then what about the 18 yr old nephew and the 16 yr old niece and at what age do you stop? Or just have a couple aunties and piss everyone else off? No, Jim and I had briefly discussed having his mom and my dad do it, but decided against it. We decide just the immediate family and the church personal would be sprinkling water. I don't think my dad would be comfortable doing it. Partly because he is a traditionalist and I think he believes only the minister should baptise and partly because he is not one to get up in front of a group of people.
When I made it clear to MIL that we were not planning on having anyone else baptise Hope, she looked very disappointed. She had assumed she would be. I want to mention, she did not baptise the guys and her other two grandchildren are not baptised (not that there's anything wrong with that). I'm just saying there was no precedent for her to assume she would be baptising Hope. I said I didn't think my dad would be comfortable baptising and she suggested I ask him. I know that is a very obvious suggestion, it just isn't a conversation I can imagine with my dad. I know I should be able to talk to him about it, but faith conversations were so Mom conversations. Hell, there were very few Dad conversations, buying a car, or other fiscal decisions, or yard work those were the limits of Dad conversations six months ago.
Then MIL suggested we have two baptisms, one public and one private. Hell to the no, that is not happening. I don't want a private baptism, the church and community has been so supportive, I want to share her special day with them. And it seems pointless to have two baptisms. At one point, having a private baptism had occurred to me. That Friday, when Dad called to tell me they had exhausted all treatment options for Mom, that Mom only had a couple weeks to live. I was 36 weeks pregnant at the time, off bedrest and cleared to give birth rather than try to stop it. I considered doing all I could to go into labor and then having Steve (my pastor) baptise her in Mom's hospice room. I'd even thought I would ask Sister Jill if she wanted Steve to baptise her daughter as well. But Sister Lu convinced me to "keep the baby cooking" as long as possible. And then I went to see Mom the next day and I knew even if I went into labor that day, Mom would not be there for her baptism. I didn't think she had a couple weeks (I was right, she died less than a week later) and Mom was so weak the baptism would have been more taxing on her than a blessing.
So when MIL suggested a private baptism, I was immediately back in those dark days of waiting and watching, both my belly and my mom. It went from a slightly uncomfortable conversation to me being engulfed by the grief again.
Reading over this post, I feel the need to defend MIL a little. She is a wonderful, sweet women who adores my children. She paid for the guys' summer actives and loves to spend time with them. For goodness sake, she took me the hour drive to my parents' small town twice when I was too close to giving birth to drive alone so I could help plan the funeral. And tries to help in anyway she can. You should see the beautiful blanket she made for Hope.
But I'm struggling to be appropriately appreciative lately. The MIL/DIL relationship is always challenging. But I think part of it for me is I can't be mad at my mother for dying, but I can be made at this sweet woman who is in front of me.
Okay, maybe I need a little detail. Children at our church are often baptised by more than just the pastor. When Joe was baptised, the pastor, deacon, Jim, I and even 3 year old Jon sprinkled water on him. MIL made a comment alluding to the fact that the aunts and uncles would be baptising Hope as well as the grandparents. Umm.... no. First of all, do you know how long that would take? My 5 siblings (Cali won't be making the trip back) plus their spouses. Then what about the 18 yr old nephew and the 16 yr old niece and at what age do you stop? Or just have a couple aunties and piss everyone else off? No, Jim and I had briefly discussed having his mom and my dad do it, but decided against it. We decide just the immediate family and the church personal would be sprinkling water. I don't think my dad would be comfortable doing it. Partly because he is a traditionalist and I think he believes only the minister should baptise and partly because he is not one to get up in front of a group of people.
When I made it clear to MIL that we were not planning on having anyone else baptise Hope, she looked very disappointed. She had assumed she would be. I want to mention, she did not baptise the guys and her other two grandchildren are not baptised (not that there's anything wrong with that). I'm just saying there was no precedent for her to assume she would be baptising Hope. I said I didn't think my dad would be comfortable baptising and she suggested I ask him. I know that is a very obvious suggestion, it just isn't a conversation I can imagine with my dad. I know I should be able to talk to him about it, but faith conversations were so Mom conversations. Hell, there were very few Dad conversations, buying a car, or other fiscal decisions, or yard work those were the limits of Dad conversations six months ago.
Then MIL suggested we have two baptisms, one public and one private. Hell to the no, that is not happening. I don't want a private baptism, the church and community has been so supportive, I want to share her special day with them. And it seems pointless to have two baptisms. At one point, having a private baptism had occurred to me. That Friday, when Dad called to tell me they had exhausted all treatment options for Mom, that Mom only had a couple weeks to live. I was 36 weeks pregnant at the time, off bedrest and cleared to give birth rather than try to stop it. I considered doing all I could to go into labor and then having Steve (my pastor) baptise her in Mom's hospice room. I'd even thought I would ask Sister Jill if she wanted Steve to baptise her daughter as well. But Sister Lu convinced me to "keep the baby cooking" as long as possible. And then I went to see Mom the next day and I knew even if I went into labor that day, Mom would not be there for her baptism. I didn't think she had a couple weeks (I was right, she died less than a week later) and Mom was so weak the baptism would have been more taxing on her than a blessing.
So when MIL suggested a private baptism, I was immediately back in those dark days of waiting and watching, both my belly and my mom. It went from a slightly uncomfortable conversation to me being engulfed by the grief again.
Reading over this post, I feel the need to defend MIL a little. She is a wonderful, sweet women who adores my children. She paid for the guys' summer actives and loves to spend time with them. For goodness sake, she took me the hour drive to my parents' small town twice when I was too close to giving birth to drive alone so I could help plan the funeral. And tries to help in anyway she can. You should see the beautiful blanket she made for Hope.
But I'm struggling to be appropriately appreciative lately. The MIL/DIL relationship is always challenging. But I think part of it for me is I can't be mad at my mother for dying, but I can be made at this sweet woman who is in front of me.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Back to reality
For the last couple months, I felt like I was existing in some sort of alternate reality. My hubby and the guys were in the "real world" interacting with real people and I was home, on my couch. People dropped by and I left the house for doctor appointments and such, but I felt outside of it all. I was, as a friend wrote in a card, sitting on my egg and talking to people on the phone (as evidenced by my huge phone bill.) This was especially true in regards to my classroom, I felt completely detached from my students although the sub was updating me. Now I feel like I am re-entering society. It's going okay, although bumpy at times.
The guys adore their little sister. The other day, Hope was on blanket on the floor and they were laying on their tummy's by her. Every time she would look from one brother to the other, they would say, "See she's looking at me, she loves me more." Joey is quick to want to hold her. Jon is willing to, but is more apt to interact with her while she is in a seat or my arms. It is amazing how much they have matured in the last couple months, especially Jon. He will be nine next month and is starting to feel like a mini adult. When I ask him to help, he often does so immediately and cheerfully. Notice I said "often" not "always," he is still an eight year old boy. He'll often make little noises with his mouth or body parts that can drive me insane. But apparently that is very common in prepubescent boys. Crazy that I have a child who could be considered prepubescent.
Joey often has problems with changes in his routine. Even going on vacation can be traumatic for us both. I was really nervous about his reaction to no longer being the youngest and finishing kindergarten in the same month. Adding his first funeral to the mix seemed like disaster waiting to happen. But he's done pretty well. Adores Hope, I know I already said that, but he really just loves her. He has had a couple tantrums including a notable one during a haircut from Uncle Duff, that was fun. But all in all he is doing well, as long as I cuddle him up regularly, which I am usually thrilled to do.
I'm trying hard to strike the right balance of busy and downtime for the summer. Last week, the guys attended Vacation Bible School at our church. I usually help at VBS, but Steve (our minister) absolved me of all duties at church for awhile. The sad thing is, I had to remind myself of that multiple times over the week to shut the Guilt Monster up. GM has a lot to say in my head, but I'm working hard at silencing it! VBS was studing the Psalms, they made multiple instruments, drums, harps and such, and sang some of the Psalms. It helped my soul to hear Joey singing, off tune of course, "Be still and know that I am God, Sala, Sala, Shalom." I cried during the service when we sang Psalm 23, the chapter had been read at the family service for my mom. But I laughed when watching kiddos sing.
Jon is playing baseball every Tuesday and Thursday and Joey is playing T-ball every Monday and Wednesday night. They are both in the community theater production of Oklahoma, practice is Sunday and Wednesday evening. So that keeps our evenings full. MIL is taking them to play practice which is a blessing. During the day, we have some weeks with activities, VBS, Art camp and such, and some quiet weeks. This week was suppose to be a quiet week.
Hope continues to be a good baby, for the most part. I am really trying to savor this time with her and not wish it away for a time when she sleeps through the night. All plans are for her to be my last child and I want to be as fully present as I can be for her babyhood. I know how quickly it will be gone.
But honestly, a part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For so long, our lives have been a bad thing followed by a good thing, rinse and repeat. Mom died, bad thing, Hope was born, good thing. To a degree, I've been waiting for the next bad thing, because it has to happen. Another part of me, says no, the Big Bad Thing came with Mom's death and now it's time for things to settle. For normal tragedies like a skinned knee or a missed bill or such to replace the real tragedies we've been encountering. We need to eventually go back to a normal life, things can't keep up this soap opera drama month after month. Can it?
The guys adore their little sister. The other day, Hope was on blanket on the floor and they were laying on their tummy's by her. Every time she would look from one brother to the other, they would say, "See she's looking at me, she loves me more." Joey is quick to want to hold her. Jon is willing to, but is more apt to interact with her while she is in a seat or my arms. It is amazing how much they have matured in the last couple months, especially Jon. He will be nine next month and is starting to feel like a mini adult. When I ask him to help, he often does so immediately and cheerfully. Notice I said "often" not "always," he is still an eight year old boy. He'll often make little noises with his mouth or body parts that can drive me insane. But apparently that is very common in prepubescent boys. Crazy that I have a child who could be considered prepubescent.
Joey often has problems with changes in his routine. Even going on vacation can be traumatic for us both. I was really nervous about his reaction to no longer being the youngest and finishing kindergarten in the same month. Adding his first funeral to the mix seemed like disaster waiting to happen. But he's done pretty well. Adores Hope, I know I already said that, but he really just loves her. He has had a couple tantrums including a notable one during a haircut from Uncle Duff, that was fun. But all in all he is doing well, as long as I cuddle him up regularly, which I am usually thrilled to do.
I'm trying hard to strike the right balance of busy and downtime for the summer. Last week, the guys attended Vacation Bible School at our church. I usually help at VBS, but Steve (our minister) absolved me of all duties at church for awhile. The sad thing is, I had to remind myself of that multiple times over the week to shut the Guilt Monster up. GM has a lot to say in my head, but I'm working hard at silencing it! VBS was studing the Psalms, they made multiple instruments, drums, harps and such, and sang some of the Psalms. It helped my soul to hear Joey singing, off tune of course, "Be still and know that I am God, Sala, Sala, Shalom." I cried during the service when we sang Psalm 23, the chapter had been read at the family service for my mom. But I laughed when watching kiddos sing.
Jon is playing baseball every Tuesday and Thursday and Joey is playing T-ball every Monday and Wednesday night. They are both in the community theater production of Oklahoma, practice is Sunday and Wednesday evening. So that keeps our evenings full. MIL is taking them to play practice which is a blessing. During the day, we have some weeks with activities, VBS, Art camp and such, and some quiet weeks. This week was suppose to be a quiet week.
Hope continues to be a good baby, for the most part. I am really trying to savor this time with her and not wish it away for a time when she sleeps through the night. All plans are for her to be my last child and I want to be as fully present as I can be for her babyhood. I know how quickly it will be gone.
But honestly, a part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For so long, our lives have been a bad thing followed by a good thing, rinse and repeat. Mom died, bad thing, Hope was born, good thing. To a degree, I've been waiting for the next bad thing, because it has to happen. Another part of me, says no, the Big Bad Thing came with Mom's death and now it's time for things to settle. For normal tragedies like a skinned knee or a missed bill or such to replace the real tragedies we've been encountering. We need to eventually go back to a normal life, things can't keep up this soap opera drama month after month. Can it?
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Dancing on the Edge
I got an e-mail from my college friend Monica last night. We were very close in college, but unfortunately don't keep close contact anymore. Monica is not addicted to Facebook like I am. We send Christmas letters and the occasional e-mail with big news. I'd sent one when I found out I was pregnant and a couple about Mom. It it feels strange, giving big bad news via mass e-mails or Facebook, but it really is easier. You can give the facts, making sure everyone gets the same details and it is much less emotionally wearing than calling or talking to everyone in person. Monica's responses to my e-mails were short, but heartfelt. She sent me a box of chocolates the week of Mom's funeral and Hope's birth. Monica lost her mom to cancer a couple years after we were out of college, maybe 10 years ago. She was married, but had no children. She now has a three year old boy and is due to have a little girl in August.
Monica sent a big e-mail yesterday. Her dad has prostate cancer. It does not appear to be curable, but she doesn't know how long. I wish I could go and sit with her. I wish I could clean her house and make her meals. I wish this yoke could be lifted from her shoulders, although I don't want more add more to my yoke! I did send her a supportive e-mail, telling her I would pray for her and her family and to take care of herself.
When I was in the midst of everything, I had several long talk with my minister, Steve. I adore him. He told me more than once that we are all living on the precipice between life and death, we just don't usually realize it. But it was out in the open with me, carrying Hope and losing my mother.
I saw an author on Oprah once, I think it was Isabel Allende. She talked about how closely related birth and death are to each other. The author had been in a room when a child was born and when her daughter died, and she said there was the same sacred stillness. That was a small part of why I so badly wanted to be with my mother when she left us. I clearly remember that sudden focus soon after my children were born, even in a busy ob room. I wanted to be there with my mom.
Hope is awake for more of the day now. I commented to Jim, it is the opposite of Mom. The last couple weeks, Mom spent more and more of the day asleep. I treasure that one of the last times she opened her eyes the day before she left us she gazed on my boys and they told her they loved her. I know Cali's husband was very frustrated that he was sleeping so much in his last days. He thought it was the morphine making him sleep so much, but the hospice nurse told him sleeping was part of the process.
I haven't told anyone about Monica's father. I handed the laptop to Jim so he could read her e-mail. I simply could not say the words aloud. I talk to a couple of my sisters daily and normally I would mention something like this to them. They've met Monica, but didn't really know her. I would tell myself I was telling them so they could pray for the family, which they would. But really it would be verbal rubber necking, sharing with them just so we could say wow! But I haven't told them, it is just too close.
Monica sent a big e-mail yesterday. Her dad has prostate cancer. It does not appear to be curable, but she doesn't know how long. I wish I could go and sit with her. I wish I could clean her house and make her meals. I wish this yoke could be lifted from her shoulders, although I don't want more add more to my yoke! I did send her a supportive e-mail, telling her I would pray for her and her family and to take care of herself.
When I was in the midst of everything, I had several long talk with my minister, Steve. I adore him. He told me more than once that we are all living on the precipice between life and death, we just don't usually realize it. But it was out in the open with me, carrying Hope and losing my mother.
I saw an author on Oprah once, I think it was Isabel Allende. She talked about how closely related birth and death are to each other. The author had been in a room when a child was born and when her daughter died, and she said there was the same sacred stillness. That was a small part of why I so badly wanted to be with my mother when she left us. I clearly remember that sudden focus soon after my children were born, even in a busy ob room. I wanted to be there with my mom.
Hope is awake for more of the day now. I commented to Jim, it is the opposite of Mom. The last couple weeks, Mom spent more and more of the day asleep. I treasure that one of the last times she opened her eyes the day before she left us she gazed on my boys and they told her they loved her. I know Cali's husband was very frustrated that he was sleeping so much in his last days. He thought it was the morphine making him sleep so much, but the hospice nurse told him sleeping was part of the process.
I haven't told anyone about Monica's father. I handed the laptop to Jim so he could read her e-mail. I simply could not say the words aloud. I talk to a couple of my sisters daily and normally I would mention something like this to them. They've met Monica, but didn't really know her. I would tell myself I was telling them so they could pray for the family, which they would. But really it would be verbal rubber necking, sharing with them just so we could say wow! But I haven't told them, it is just too close.
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