3/23/10 - Gratitude for Acceptance

What a lovely day. My Mom took the kids for some good old fashioned Nana/grandchildren quality time and I spent the day with my Dad. I had to follow him into town so that he could drop his truck off to get the brakes fixed (finally!). But mostly we just spent the day alternately chatting and reading. We talked about all sorts of stuff from fluffy chitchat stuff to how the kids were doing with the new knowledge of his impending death to how he was doing with his impending death. It was such a lovely day. And it was a day that I could not have had with him even a month ago.

I think I had to go away for a couple of months to do my own work. To trudge through the deep anger I had. To make peace with the denial and fear of facing my life and the world without my Dad. Now I am able to sit with him, as his daughter, and talk or just be in silence. And I cannot tell you what that means to me. After 33 years, there is finally peace in our relationship. There is understanding, love and acceptance for who we both are and what we had to experience to get here. I mean, I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Even when I was so angry at him I could hardly see straight, I was a Daddy’s girl. But through the internal work we have both done over the past couple of months, our relationship has reached a new level.

There is a tremendous amount of freedom in this acceptance. Freedom to cry at the beauty of his life and all that he’s given. Freedom to celebrate this man who played such a gigantic role in shaping who I am and who my children are. Freedom to laugh as things arise regardless of how irreverent or inappropriate that laughter may be and because we’d both rather laugh than cry. And while I would do almost anything to be able to take this revelation far into the future with my Dad, I plan on making every single second I have with him count.

3/21/10 - Solace in Baking

I went cooking and baking crazy today. I was all twitchy today because my dad took my children for a walk to tell them he was dying. He and I had talked about the best way to break it to them, to start that conversation with them. I mean, I had started the general death conversation with The Boy already, but had not applied any of that to my Dad as of yet. And today, my Dad did exactly that.

The Girl took it all in stride of course. I think she’s still close enough to that other side for it not to frighten her or make her feel like she’ll be really losing anything. The Boy, however, had a rough afternoon. I wish more than anything that my husband had been here because The Boy latched onto my cousin D (him being the only other man here besides my Dad) and took him into a conversation I’m not at all sure D was prepared for, especially with a kid he had known for about 2 days. But they both did great. I just watched from the kitchen door in between mixing, measuring and chopping.

It was not an easy thing for my Dad either, but he did a beautiful job with it and was able to hold it together for his grandchildren. I am pretty sure I would not have been able to do that. In fact, I was not able to really hold it together much so I buried my face in lemon bars and angel food cake cookies. Potato Salad and Cole Slaw. I have never been so grateful to have such a hoard to feed with all the family here.

Thankfully tonight Aunt T set down with Dad for another round of interrogation that ended with the best story yet of how my Dad talked his high school biology teacher into letting him perform surgical procedures on a rat, namely removing one of its kidneys. Which he then had to take home for the summer as his personal charge. He hid the animal in the garage only to be summoned one day by my Grandma’s ear splitting scream. Best. Story. Ever.

3/20/10 - Let the Storytelling Begin

My Aunt T and Aunt S spent about three hours interviewing my dad tonight while my Aunt J videotaped the whole thing. So many stories and memories now forever committed to the teeny, tiny DVD in our video camera. She asked him about everything from childhood memories, to fly fishing, to how many times he actually got in trouble with his mom and dad, to his best field foraging exploits. Stories dating back to the very beginning of my Dad’s memories. Inciting laughter and jeers from his sisters he held us all captive as he rolled from one story to the next, urged on by Aunt T’s questions and prodding. It was such a lovely evening. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed as much as I have tonight and all through the day.

I adore these women and I cannot put into words how grateful I am that they are here. I have two Aunt S’s, bookending these siblings. I’ve never really gotten to know the oldest, she’s 4 years older than my dad and never really went out of her way to be nice to me. So unless I was thrown into the same room with her, I just sort of ignored her. But today I’ve spent more time talking to her than the rest of my life put together. And she’s really funny and smart and sweet. She and my dad really renewed their relationship before my Grandma died. Aunt S runs the nursing home that my Grandma was in and my dad, being the second oldest, really stayed in close contact with her to help make decisions and such. And it’s been nice to see that relationship in action. There’s a really wonderful mutual respect there on top of all the shared history and brother/sister foundations. And it’s been fun to hear snippets of the family history from before my dad’s memory as well. Interesting to hear stories from a different perspective, from the first born.

And it’s given me some nice insight as well to see what stories my aunts want to hear versus the stories I’ve been asking for. It’s just such a gift to have them here.

Karmic Bone to Pick

Alright. I’ve a bone to pick with karma. Everything from the fact that we finally get a string of sunny days and I’m stuck inside with sick kids. To the fact that my dad is going downhill fast according to my mom and I’ve got sick kids so therefore cannot go to NM to be with him. Oh and there was the whole we paid off my husband’s car and then he got into a car accident less than 24 hours after we paid the sucker off. There’s the biggie of my dad dying of course. And to top it all off, my dog died. Seriously?!? What’s this all about?

I’ve been working my ass off for the past 18 months to grow as a person in pretty much every conceivable way. I’ve been doing everything I know how to do to take care of my family and make it stronger. I’ve been pushing and learning and just doing what needs to be done in order to be a better person all the way around. And instead of even just getting a breather, the universe just keeps piling more crap on my plate (and the plates of the people I love now that you mention it).

I just don’t get it. Is the universe on a broadly sweeping war path these days? Between the earthquakes and tsunamis, the shootings, the financial issues, the health crises and on and on it feels like one big tragic swath is being cut through the world. Indiscriminate in its path and showing no mercy.

There’s a part of me that wants to climb atop of the tallest mountain and scream at the powers that be to knock it the hell off already. There’s another part of me that just wants to curl up in a ball and cry. Then there’s a part of me that is continually grateful for the chance to keep learning. Grateful that I’m being forced to keep expanding in my being, because at this point I would b relishing in full-on sloth-hood because I’m so bone tired. Granted I think that grateful part of me is a wee bit on the crazy side. But still.

Goodbye Joplin

About 10 years ago the contractor that gutted and renovated my parents’ retirement house told my mom about a puppy they had gotten and could no longer care for. So we went out to their house to take a look at her. I will never forget walking around the side of their house and catching sight of this sweet little yellow girl just as she leapt directly into my arms. It was love at first sight and a few minutes later she was riding in my lap happily licking my hands, until the car sickness sank in that is, and then I was desperately trying to get her mouth pointed toward the floor instead of my lap.

She was my husband’s and my first dog. We named her Joplin, after Janis of course. We spoiled her rotten. Although to this day she’s the best trained dog I’ve ever known.

And last night she died. Out of nowhere. I mean, yes, she was about 10 years old, but other than some arthritis, she was in great health. Unfortunately we had to send her to my parents to live after The Girl was born because Joplin got pretty angry. Actually I think she was more sad than angry. She loved both kids, but she was so sad to lose her parents to them. And more to the point, our attention. So when she started peeing every single day in the same spot in The Girl’s bedroom, we took her back to my parents’ house where she would have more room and all of their attention. She was happier there although I missed her desperately and her us. But last night when my parents got home from dinner she had lost all use of her back end and was having trouble breathing. She was gone within about 15 minutes. The vet thinks she probably had a heart attack.

And I am devastated. She was my girl. So I am just going to envision her running full out in a huge grass meadow, chasing down endless tennis balls. Young and gorgeous and lightening fast. Keep on running my sweet blonde dog, keep on running. We love you so much.

Gratitude

So it appears that awe re staying put for now. Of course that could change tomorrow. But for now, we’re staying here, at least until spring break rolls around. Although my mom has tried mightily, I think my Aunt T is leaving tomorrow and will then be back the same time we are, with all the sisters in tow. I think the family reunion could be a really wonderful thing for my dad and all of his siblings (his brother excluded who cannot come). It will give them all a chance to be together for the first time since my grandmother died and it will be the first time that they’ve all come together without her as impetus. I think it will be a really good thing. Once we get through the awkward silences and dancing around the fact that their brother is dying. But I will be there and so will Aunt T, so between the two of us, we should be able to keep the atmosphere pretty positive I think.

My dad had a good day today. It looks like the upswing finally found him, for which I am grateful. He was not in good shape a few days ago. The oxygen was delivered today and he actually said he was going to give it a try and see if it made any difference in how he felt. His hospice nurse has said that she’d like to see him on it all the time. A lack of oxygen can cause all sorts of troublesome things in addition to shortness of breath. So he agreed to give it a try. I was flabbergasted in the best possible way. It was really good to talk to him today, he sounded good again. Like my dad. Funny and chatty. Which actually made me want to get in the car even more. Because it’s those days I really don’t want to miss. It’s those days that I really don’t want the kids to miss.

But at this point I’m grateful to be able to share them with him in any way I can. We’re just taking it one day at a time. Today was a good day.

2/21/10 - Digestion

Migraine. Migraine. Migraine. I’ve had a migraine since Thursday. I’ve spent all day today on the couch, moaning occasionally, watching movies. I can’t look at my computer, so I’m typing this out as quickly as possible just to get my daily writing out of the way. I know it’s a stress/not drinking enough water/not getting enough sleep thing. But seriously. I’m way over it now.

But having the time to just lie on the couch has also given me some time to think and digest. I spent most of this past week trying to re-reach out to some friends. Because I am tired of being angry. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m never going to be anything but angry. So I reached out to a friend I’ve known since the beginning of high school who is now a UCC minister to get some perspective. And I reached out to my oldest friend who lost her mother in college and her father not to long after The Boy was born. They both wrote me words that took quite a bit of digesting – in the best possible way. Words that I needed to hear but couldn’t come up with on my own. Words that provided the perspective that I needed but couldn’t get to because I was so cemented into my current angry point of view. Words that reminded me that it’s ok for this to be hard, that it’s ok for me to be angry, that it’s ok for me to not understand. But it’s my banging my head against the wall of that lack of understanding that’s creating such anger and strife for me right now. They were words I needed to hear and needed to digest and I’m so grateful for them and the friends who wrote them.

Ultimately I’m pissed off that my dad is dying. And that’s just compounded by the fact that I can’t for the life of me control or make any sense out of any aspect of that. Yeah. That just plain sucks.

So in some respects I suppose I’m glad for the space and time to reflect, even if it was accompanied by pain and strobe lights.

College Roommate

My college roommate, C, and I have had an up and down friendship to be sure. We’ve put each other through huge challenges, of the best and worst kind, and been there for each other through some of the hardest and loveliest times in our lives. We’ve also had huge breaks in contact – years in fact. The last of which was more than 4 years. We’ve recently gotten back in touch and while there was some initial timidity on both our parts in the beginning, I think we’ve got the kinks worked out again. Although we’ve spent months only IM’ing and emailing – it was starting to feel like some sort of online relationship formed on some low-end dating site. But we talked on the phone today for the first time in years and although we began with fits and starts and a bit of hysterical laughter as we once again found our footing, at the end of our three and a half hour conversation, we were back to finishing each other’s sentences and giggling like the silly girls we can be.

She and her husband are in the process of adopting their first baby and I’m so over-the-top excited for them I can hardly sit still. And although I’m sure she’s tired of me tossing out tidbits of unsolicited advice, I’m just thrilled to be in her life to watch her become a mother.

In this time of change and shifting and continued transformation, I’m utterly thankful to have her back in my life. Mostly because I feel like I can use all the weapons I can shove into my arsenal and she is one of the most formidable women I’ve ever met. She’s brilliant to be sure, but she has tenacity the likes of which I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered.

At the core of our friendship, I think, is laughter. We make each other laugh without even trying. We can be unabashedly uncouth, bring out the sharpest sarcasm and driest sense of humor and still be in complete sync.

And there is the history. I am constantly reminded how comforting it is to share my life with people with whom I’ve shared history.

12/25/09 - Merry Christmas!

Holy present explosion Batman!! I got a great picture of the two of them on first sight of the magnificent pile of wrapped goodies arranged perfectly behind two grand offerings from Santa. The looks on their faces were utter, unabashed joy. It was what Christmas mornings should be. It was what was so sorely lacking in last year’s Christmas.

The Boy’s Christmas was chock full of Star Wars. And that is pretty much it. Between Santa and all the grandparents, The Boy now has his very own Star Wars armada to cheerfully batter about. He was over the moon! Throw in a couple of super cool tie dyed shirts from Nana Ro, a bright orange Wolverine sweatshirt from mom and dad and super cool Spider-Man slippers from Nana and he was a very happy camper indeed.

The Girl’s Christmas was like a diva/princess/rock star Mecca made tangible. I removed the ban on all things Barbie this year so she was awash with tons of familiar pink bubble writing as well as getting her dress up box tripled with super cool princess dresses and truly divine shoes adorned with rhinestones and feathers galore. Round all that out with her first guitar and drum set and she was ready to rock and roll, literally. I don’t think she could have chosen a more perfect assortment of gifts if you had given her free reign and all the money in the world.

My darling husband surprised me with tickets to see Muse in Denver in April as well as playing to my recent embrace of adolescent obsession with Twilight. And in an effort to plug the one glaring hole in my culinary aptitude, my mom gave me a rice cooker. I seriously cannot make rice to save my life. But now I can! And my husband was happy to get iTunes money and new additions to his sci-fi library.

My mom loved the iPod we gave her and my dad looked like he really appreciated the writing journal I gave him.

Not to mention the fact that I absolutely nailed my grandmother’s cinnamon rolls. They were decadent and perfect.

I could not have wished for a lovelier Christmas.

Gratitude

My dad sort of disappeared several years ago. He found himself travelling down an extremely difficult road and his response was to withdraw to the point of almost completely disappearing. I would occasionally see him emerge whilst playing with his grandchildren. But mostly he was just gone.

Keeping in mind that I have always been a daddy’s girl, you can imagine the anger I felt about suddenly losing my father while he was sitting right in front of me. You can imagine how abandoned I felt. You can imagine the level of sorrow I had knowing that if he would only let me, I could probably be of some assistance along the journey he was on.

And I’ve held somewhat of a grudge for this disappearance. I’ve been angry with him for a long time now. And while it may sound clichéd and hypocritical, when his diagnosis made its way down the pike, all was forgiven. Not forgotten, not by a long shot, but forgiven. But, as most profoundly life changing revelations are, my dad having cancer has proven to be a gift. It’s brought my dad back to me. He is utterly and completely my dad again. For better and for worse, he’s my dad again. And I’m so grateful for that I can’t appropriately put it into words.

So much of who I am at my core is because of my dad. He cultivated in me a deep sense of right and wrong as well as a foundation based in respect, integrity and compassion for everyone around me regardless of their station in life. An absolute commitment to family (in whatever form it may take), constant learning and a relentless wonder at the world around me. A tremendous sense of humor. I do wish however that he’d injected some of his innate patience into me though, that is one area in which I am severely lacking that he has in spades.

Tonight as I listened to us banter back and forth and laugh heartily at each other’s stories and memories, I had to lean back and just be grateful. So very, very grateful for the chance to just be with my daddy again.

12/1/09 - MNO

**Sorry this is late, but I got home really late last night and plum forgot to post it!**

I’m pretty much an introvert by nature. And typically I contract, withdraw and generally crawl under the covers when life gets out of hand. But over the last year, I’ve really learned that I’m so much better off surrounded by the people I love, and who love me, in those times of crisis as well as those times of joy.

And I cannot say thank you enough to my friends right now. Even if I had thought about pulling in on myself through all of this, they wouldn’t have let me. They’re not letting me use any excuse to thwart their attempts to help me in whatever way they can, big and little (of course it’s all huge at this point). They are all being so completely loving, supportive, funny, wonderful, kind people right now that I’ve no idea what I would do without them.

So when the weekly Mama’s Night Out rolled around last night, my husband all but kicked me out the door. I can’t remember the last time I actually went out; between not having any money and just wanting to hang with my hubby, I just haven’t been able to get myself to go out. But out I went last night. And it was the perfect ending to a truly shitty day. I haven’t laughed that much in a very, very long time.

We went to a favorite neighborhood hangout that has the best mojitos in town and at one point I looked around our three pulled together bistro tables and there were 12 gorgeous, talented and successful women gathered there, all laughing and connecting in a way that only girlfriends can. I caught pieces of conversation covering everything from our children and upcoming New Year’s resolutions to our favorite exploits from our younger years and our current sex lives…ahem. It was such a glorious sight and did my heart good.

Plus there was the added bonus that about half of us went to the late showing of New Moon after three hours of raucous giggling. We were just about the only people in the theater, so we were free to revert shamelessly back into teenage girls drooling over beautiful boys.

Stages 1 and 2

My darling, dear and most appreciated friend M bought The Girl and me lunch again today. She also brought me some books on grief including one to read to the kiddos. One of which is by Elizabeth Kubler Ross who is pretty much the guru of death and dying. It was she who came up with the 5 stages of grief. I have heard her speak and she is without a doubt the kindest, gentlest soul I’ve ever heard utter words of any kind.

My mom and I talked a bit about the 5 stages when I was there and I talked a bit with M today as well. The first stage is denial. After the year I’ve had, I’ve pretty much lost all ability to be in denial about anything, it is just not worth my time and energy anymore. But anger? Anger is something I know a little bit about. And with this particular life event, my anger is twofold. The first of which is absolute anger at the fact that my father is going to be take away from me and my children well before we’ve learned everything he has to teach. The second of which is anger that I am an only child and thus have to shoulder and navigate this cracking a part of my family alone.

Also, I’m angry right now that life seems to not give a damn that my father is dying and so has decided to not just give me a friggin’ break with anything. We are just barely keeping our heads above water financially and are in fact having to learn how to breathe water this month. The mortgage company doesn’t care that my dad was in the hospital, only that I make sure to pay the late fee when I am finally able to make our payment this month. Also? My car is in dire need of some serious TLC and I have no way to provide anything for it but gasoline at the moment, and that only sparingly.

So there’s a tour of my anger. If you’re really lucky you’ll get an equally as thrilling view of the next three stages as well.

11/26/09 - Happy Thanksgiving!

I get out of bed with the remainders of the migraine I had yesterday. I go have a very large cup of coffee hoping that the caffeine will chase the dregs away. Within being up for a half an hour, I’m on my way back to bed. For the majority of the day.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

And I am no stranger to bone crunching headaches as you well know. But seriously, this was the worst migraine I’ve had for probably a couple of years. I couldn’t even sleep I was in so much pain. I was about ready to crawl back into the kitchen and beg someone to find me some narcotics. Or shoot me. Something. Anything. Just put me out of my misery. But then sleep took me, thankfully. It was probably close to 4pm before I could even think about sitting up without it feeling like someone was actively trying to crack open my skull. I had to have my husband hang blankets over the doors and windows so that absolutely no light could pierce my eyelids. The dogs and the kids were kept far away from me so as not to affront my tenderized ears.

And aside from this migraine totally high jacking my mother’s favorite holiday, it also meant that my dad had to take over making dinner. Which he was totally not prepared to do. I felt awful. But he turned out an awesome meal with absolutely the best oyster stuffing he’s ever made. I was seriously impressed. My mom has a yearly tradition for Thanksgiving where we all hold hands and go around the table to say what we are grateful for. The Girl said she was grateful for “her whole family.” The Boy said he was grateful for “dinner and the people I love.” My husband was grateful for “the chance to be with family.” My mom was grateful “to have her family all together again and to still have my dad.” My dad was grateful for “the chance to share the meal with his family.” And I was grateful to be able to sit around the table with my family with no pain and eat an amazing meal.

Random Acts of Kindness

I always assume that people will do the right thing when it comes down to it. There is a cynical streak in me however that always points and laughs at that “cup half full” part of me whenever I run into generally mean for no reason people. But today, that part of me that believes that people are generally good in all the ways that matter most, good naturedly poked and giggled at the cynic.

My husband is sick with the same vomit madness that The Boy had, so he has basically ceased to exist for the last 24 hours. In an effort to keep from having to drive back and forth into town in between taking The Boy and The Girl to their respective schools, I decided to splurge and take The Girl and me out to breakfast while we waited. It wasn’t a huge splurge but it gave us a bit of time to talk and color and eat yummy food that I didn’t have to cook. After we were done eating I went up to pay and I swiped my debit card only to discover that the card was expired. Oh. My. God.

Thank goodness I grabbed some cash we had laying around the house on my way out the door (thank you subconscious!), but I was still short. The hostess who was ringing me up totally could have pulled the bitch card on me and been well within her rights. I should be more together and aware than that. Especially now that we are completely credit card free and rely only on cash/debit; I have to have my shit together more than that. But I didn’t. And you know what? She was extraordinarily kind and gave me the difference in cash from her own wallet. And then when I was on the verge of tears because I felt so badly for not being to leave a tip for our server who was equally kind, she offered to give her a slice of pie on her break on our behalf.

I am just so thoroughly grateful for random acts of kindness and I’m on the lookout for ways to pay it forward.

10/8/09 - Cardio Follow-up

**Yeah. You know the drill. Sorry. I'm sick.**

The Girl’s cardiologist appointment was today. They did an EKG and an echocardiogram in the office as well as taking the time to go through pretty much her entire medical history with me. And after all of that, he confirmed that she has a heart murmur and also has an Atrial Septal Defect (ASD). What does all of this mean? NOTHING!!! The heart murmur is completely benign and nothing to worry about. The ASD is also nothing to worry about. They are both pretty normal for kids her age and almost always go away on their own. He said she looked totally normal and healthy and that we should just continue working with our pediatrician to get her respiratory issues figured out.

And even in my sickness induced haze I wanted to do jumping jacks and hug the guy right there in his office. I mean not to mention that he was soooo nice and thorough and patient and was outstanding with The Girl. Not to mention that he and the nurses totally let The Girl abuse the sticker policy because she kept leaving her stickers in the various exam rooms. Not to mention that the doctor took the time to ask me a bunch of “getting to know you” questions before launching into the last eighteen months series of medical events with The Girl.

I have lost track of the number of cardiologists that I’ve seen over the years with my own heart condition and I can honestly say that none of them were as wonderful as this guy. In my (relatively limited) experience specialists can be, well, dicks. They tend to be all haughty and holier than thou. And while I suppose I can understand how they could get like that, I’ve never been able to understand why they would want to be. How can alienating your patients make you a better doctor?

Anyway, we have good news. And that rocks and is something for which I am utterly and completely well, life in general at this point. Maybe grateful. It’s a nice change of pace actually. I’m so used to getting non-good news with The Girl, and our luck is turning around.

Day of Gratitude

I am in a strange space today. Part overwhelming gratitude and part wistful I think is the best way to describe it.

As I have well (and long) documented here, this has been a fairly shitty year by all normal standards. What with The Girl and the multiple pneumonia’s, the seizure, the hospitalization, The Boy really struggling with school, my mom’s heart attack, my husband and I trying to figure out what we want the next phase of our marriage to look like, The Boy’s concussion and our imminent filing for bankruptcy looming on the horizon. And so many other things that drug me down into the muck of the daily grind.

And believe me, I’ve spent my fair share of the last 9 months shaking my fists at the sky and cussing loudly. And drinking. And smoking (I’ve quit again by the way). And cussing some more.

But today, even in the face of a gigantic life change right in front of me, I am just filled with this all-encompassing gratitude. I am so grateful that we have The Girl’s asthma under control and she is healthy. I am so grateful that The Boy is loving school and doing so well in it. I am so grateful for my friends; the old, the new and the ones in progress. I am so grateful for my parents’ support through all of this, it would have been so easy to just shake their heads in my general direction and wait for me to get back to normal. I am so grateful for my husband’s parents who have been so thoroughly supportive from afar, who quite literally have made our next steps possible.

And I am wistful because I am hoping against all hope that I can get through whatever is next with my head held high and my lessons learned intact. I am hoping that I can continue to prove to these people who enrich my life so completely that I am worthy of their belief, support, compassion and love. I am hoping that I can continue to show my children how to face adversity with determination and a smile always waiting in your back pocket.

The Gifts of Rain

The Girl and I went to “big playdate” today. I’ve been a part of a mom’s group here for years and they have had a weekly playdate at the same park, on the same day since the group’s inception. And I used to go religiously. And then life got crazy and I pretty much stopped going for the last year. But I thought now that it was just The Girl and me that it would be a fun thing for her to do again to keep up with her social interaction and get me back out into the world of friends and community.

And I don’t think it was until today that it truly sank in how very much I’ve changed over the past year. Seeing these women who used to be such intimate pieces of my everyday life and who became casualties to the deep, soul-level contraction that I put my life through over the last year really illustrated in black and white the fruits of my labor.

There was a time when I would've seen any of these women and focused only on how much thinner or prettier or successful they were than me. Or how much better behaved their children were. Or any number of other deficiencies that I saw in myself. And today as I was standing under a huge tree dodging the pouring rain with one of these women, catching up a bit after not seeing each other at all over the last year, that I realized that I wasn’t doing any of that. I was purely, and completely, focused on the simple fact that we were sharing space and it was lovely to see them. Focused on how big all of our children have grown.

I cannot tell you what a gift that realization was. To have the self-given permission to simply just be. To not have the need to hide or cover up or suck in or brush over any number of self-perceived faults and blemishes. To allow myself to be taken exactly where I am. Right now. And to be able to in turn see them for all of their glory and beauty. I love the rain.

The Forgetting

I wrote thank you notes to the people I interviewed with today. And I was thinking that I’d just be able to sit down and write the suckers off the top of my head. Unfortunately for C, that is not at all how that happened. After writing two or three drafts I emailed her in a panic asking, once more, for help in the self promotion arena. And she came through, of course. She told me so very, very gently to buck up and stop writing about myself like I was a big fat wuss. And I appreciated it, I really did.

I finally got them done and sent. And now I’m just trying to forget all about it actually. I think I’ve done everything I can do. I have my fingers crossed. I’ve asked the universe to please come through on this one. I’ve got just about everyone I know pulling for me and sending all of the “she is going to get this job” vibes they can muster. I interviewed really well. I sent well written and well thought out thank you notes. Now all I can do is wait.

But for me the waiting in dangerous. Because my brain tends to take perfectly good things that I’ve done and warp them into what must have surely been crazy and totally stupid things. My brain likes to sabotage the hell out of me and my hope. It’s just mean. But true nonetheless. So I’m trying to just let it go and forget about it in the hopes that I’ll pull the plug on my brain’s power over me. So that I can look at this whole experience and know that I put everything I had into it and if I still don’t get the job it’s just because it wasn’t meant to be, not because I screwed something up as I’m sure my brain will try to tell me.

So I’m shutting it down. Willfully ignoring my brain and opting for better judgment. Yep. See here I go. Forgetting. Will you remind me that I chose to forget this when I’m freaking out in another week because I haven’t heard from them yet?

Pitifully Sick

I am sicker than I’ve been in a very, very long time. What I thought was just a cold has turned me into a sniffling, hacking, weeping ball of sadness. I’ve had a low grade fever going up and down for the last three days and my cough has gone from a moderately productive, raspy, every so often annoyance straight to a socked into my chest, horrible barking, entire body wracking and unceasing complete pain in my ass. And pretty much everywhere else.

It’s become so bad in fact that I called my sweet friend L this morning in tears to beg her to have her husband (who is a doctor) talk to me and make it better. And I felt awful about it because I was pretty sure today was his day off. And I know when you have a day off it’s usually packed full before the day’s even begun. And the last thing you want to be doing is working. Especially when some crazy friend of your wife’s calls pitifully and begs you to make her better.

He listened to me cough and asked me a few questions and given that had just increased his to-do list for the day, was very sweet. So he called in an antibiotic prescription and hopefully by this time tomorrow I will be feeling much better. I hope that I will be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight and by tomorrow the coughing will have quieted a bit and reverted back to being productive. By this time tomorrow my fever will have broken and I will once again gain joy from hearing my children’s voices instead of their delightful questions and tinkling giggles making me want to jump in front of a bus.

Mostly I’m just tired of being a pathetic lump on the couch (although I am now completely caught up on all my DVR’d shows and I got to scratch my The West Wing itch). I’m tired of my own personal to-do list looming in front of me. I’m tired of being incapacitated by something out of my control. I’m so ready to have my entire house and everyone in it healthy!

Where Does God Live?

The Boy: “Where does God live?”.

Me: “I don’t know where he lives. Some people think he lives in the sky, some people think he lives in the stars, some people think he lives in the trees and the oceans and the earth, some people think he lives in the moon and some people think he lives in your heart. Where do you think he lives?”

The Boy: “I think he lives in the stars. That’s where I would want to live.”

I have absolutely no idea where this question came from today. We are not a religious family. I’ve never been baptized and neither have either of our children. I mean I went to Catholic school for first through fifth grades, and I went to youth group in high school (solely for the friends, not the church) and was one class away from a religion minor in college (solely from an academic point of view, I loved studying the mythology behind religion), but that is the full extent of my religious involvement. I have always had a hard time with religion. I’ve grilled many friends into the ground about their faith and beliefs, many to the point where they just ended up yelling at me to leave them alone. I’ve read and researched and studied. I’ve tried to do religion. Because I would love to be a part of the community inherent in religion. And I would love to have the certainty that faith gives you; the trust. But it has always been a struggle for me.

The Boy went to a Jewish preschool for three years, but that is the full extent of his religious exposure. And this is the first time that he’s ever asked me about God or anything else religious for that matter. He started singing the Jewish children’s songs from the age of 2 and would re-tell me the stories he heard (particularly the ones with his name in them). But that was about it.

I find myself both grateful for and scared of this question. Scared that I will provide wrong answers. Grateful that I get another crack at understanding this level of faith through my son’s eyes.