Scrambled

I'm really not sure what I want to put on this page right now. I feel so much shifting going on internally but the pieces aren't fitting together yet. I'm trying to mentally prepare to be away from my kiddos for 9 days beginning at the end of March and it is scary. A big part of me hopes that the week in the sun, doing yoga, sitting on the beach, doing the things that you do at a yoga retreat on an isolated island is going to take all of this and put it together. Not all that realistic. It is still hard to think that this trip is really happening because it is something that I thought I could only dream of doing.

We've had a rough winter with illness. A few days after Sweet One's 5th Birthday, Little Man came down with a fever and Sweet One got hers the next day. Sweet One's lasted 3 days but Little Man's lasted 5 days until I took him in and learned he had an ear infection. She ended up with a cough that didn't stop for more than a minute or so throughout the entire day. She was exhausted. The next week at her 5 year wellness checkup they diagnosed a sinus infection which didn't surprise me. But a fever came back that same afternoon. 2.5 week after all of this started I got a fever. My first in 15 years. I felt like crap. While I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed, Little Man kept whining and asking me to hold him. When I finally gave in his forehead felt hot. Over a week into his antibiotics and he had another fever? Back to the Dr's office for the 3rd time in 2 weeks. He tested positive for the Flu and so both the kids were put on Tamiflu. I picked it up from the pharmacy and the three of us headed south for 1h45 to get my Mom from the airport because she was coming for a visit. (You'd think having her around would be helpful but it really wasn't. She talked about making me soup and when I told her I had everything for it she never got around to it.) The next day I found hives on Little Man and we spent the following 4 days dealing with them because, I do not over exaggerate, there was more hive than skin on my boy. Three antihistamines later and we were able to avoid steroids. Big Love also got a fever to finish everyone off. It was really a terrible 3.5 weeks and now 6 weeks after it all started I still feel weary because Sweet One is still complaining of a sore forehead and coughing. Little Man is also saying he doesn't feel that good.

I'm scrambled. Not sure where I am but trying to have faith it is all a journey that will bring me to somewhere beautiful. I'm currently reading A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson and there are moments when I feel reassured that I am on the right track. This morning I read a post by Sizzle and the quotes she includes from her friend I absolutely love. (Love the housework one and housewives defaulting to drugs!) I've also read some Louise Hay and various other books. I feel like eventually I will be able to integrate it all into my being and then I can heal and thrive.

I'm not settled. I get antsy. I need to meditate more. I'm trying to get practicing again but it is both hard and scary. A wise friend once told me that it is the things that scare us the most that are most worth doing. I actually performed last weekend. A couple 70's love songs. Vocally they weren't challenging at all but it was scary to get back out into the lights. Once I was there it felt so good. And so I keep plugging away. Hoping that all this exhausting work will one day leave me feeling full of energy and finding peace where there currently is not.

A Red Dwarf Campion for my Dad

We arrived home a week ago. I've wanted to type and try to process all that happened on our two week trip that covered 3,512.1 miles but I haven't been able to. There was so much that happened. t wasn't the colossal gong show I had expected it to be. It was what it needed to be and there were many beautiful moments that I am holding onto dearly. (I'm now no longer afraid of long car trips with small kids!)

On the day that we buried my father I was surround by a family I had tried not to connect with for many years because connecting with them meant connecting with my Dad. And really, that never went the way I'd hope it would so what was the point? He didn't understand me or listen to me so why would they. But they loved me and my family. My sister and I talked about how we never felt that cared for and loved by extended family like that before. "Don't knock. This is your home while you're here. You need anything, just come in and take it or ask if you can't find it." That was what my Dad's youngest brother told me within minutes of arriving on the farm. Strangely enough, when I looked at him I saw my Dad looking at me.

My counselor told me that after we buried my father I might feel a sense of relief. But I didn't. I wanted to so desperately but it didn't come. I sat on the ground with Little Man in my lap only a few feet from the hole where the wooden box that contained the ashes would be placed. The headstone a few more feet past that. It was a short service but I cried through the whole thing. At one point the Pastor nodded to my brother who then took the box and placed it in the hole. I felt my entire torso start to shake and I thought was going to scream. I wanted to sob. I was in awe of my brother who could do that without falling down himself. I reached over and held the hand of my cousin who was sitting beside me with her son in her lap and I felt a little better. I sat there for awhile hoping that a wave of relief would come over me. My Grandma walked up to the headstone and said in a strong, even tone, "Well, goodbye my son. 'Til we meet again." I wanted to be able to say my own version of that but no matter how long I sat there, it didn't come. I think I was one of the last to leave.

For the rest of the day and the day after that we were surrounded by such a great love. I felt home in a place that I never understood. The farm was amazing. Sweet One spent hours each day running with her cousins and having the greatest time. Little Man was usually close to Big Love or I but he still had fun in his own way. We were taken out in boats, fed food and spent hours around a campfire. I thought that maybe as I was surrounded by his mother, and sister that perhaps I would start to feel a bit of peace.

I didn't want to leave the farm. I felt at home there in a way I never thought I would. We had to leave to meet with Big Love's family. My sister had left the farm a few minutes before us and it seems she had the same idea that I had. I left the kids and Big Love at the car and walked towards the grave. My sister and her family were saying good bye and so I stayed back and watched them. After they were done my sister stayed with me a bit and I tried so hard again to be able to say goodbye but I couldn't. I was scared it would never come.

A few days later as we started the five days back to where we live we stopped at the cemetery once again. This time I carried with me a Dwarf Red Campion. The kids were very excited to plant this for "Grandpa's Special Place". I felt like finally I found something I could do for him. I dug into the dirt that was filling the small hole and pulled out as much as I could to make room for this plant, threw in some food and then proceeded to plant it. The kids helped me every step of the way. We made sure the peacock feathers my niece and nephew had placed there remained standing tall, watered it so it could begin to grow and said our goodbyes. "I miss Grandpa," my Sweet One said. The four of us standing there, leaving kisses on the headstone. Together my little family helped me say my first goodbye. Finally, I felt like the first seed of peace was planted inside of me.

I'm not too optimistic but I really hope that little flower will bloom for my Dad every year.

Searching

One of the nights when I was back home my brother took Big Love and I up to my Dad's house. I hadn't ever been in it, didn't even know where it was because he had moved there some time after my last visit.

It was located just a mile or two from town and the view was beautiful. He showed me the land that had finally become his six months previous after renting it for a year or two and the shop where 'it all happened'. Seeing the shop made me happy. Because I could tell he was happy in it building the beautiful things that he did. There was so much space for my Dad to build his things and lots of light coming in. My brother had bought him some cushioned squares to put in the places where he spent most of his time standing and from what he said, my Dad couldn't get over how much more comfortable it was to stand on them rather than the hard concrete floor.

When I walked into the house I was surprised. The cabinets looked similar to what mine did when I moved into this house 6 months ago. I can honestly say that I was a little sad at the state of things considering he had built beautiful cabinets for everyone else but couldn't afford to build them for himself. (He did build gorgeous cherry wood cabinets for the house we grew up in.) The rest of the house needs a lot of work, too. But it will get that work done just before my sister and her family move into it. I can totally understand why they want to move in.

On a cabinet just when you walk into the house there was a small tape recorder. Those old ones with the itty bitty tapes. I took it and started fast forwarding and playing, forwarding and playing, forwarding and playing. In my head I started getting frantic. "What the fuck do I think I'm going to find?" I said out loud. His voice. I know I wanted to hear his voice one more time. And if I'm really honest I wanted to hear him talking to me, telling me he was sorry that he wasn't able to be more of the father and build a bridge for us to meet on. Dad, why was it so hard for you to listen to me and talk to me? I only wanted to be heard and loved.

My sister found Wally Lamb's book The Hour I First Believed in my Dad's house even before I got there. I loved his other books and since my sister kept my Dad's copy I ordered my own shortly after getting back from our trip. (She would have sent it to me but I wanted to get reading it as soon as possible.) For the most part I spent the kid's nap/quiet time in the afternoon reading it a chapter or so at a time with coffee that my sister had sent with me in a cup she had given me clasped in my hand. I read every page carefully and here again I found myself looking for something. My Dad hadn't gotten very far in the book, maybe only a chapter or two, but there was part of me that hoped I would find something on the pages that would speak to me, that would help all of this hurt go away and leave only peace in its wake. And miraculously give me some answers as to why our relationship had to be so damn hard. I know part of it was my fault, but I got so sick and tired of being hurt, Dad, that I just had to stop. And I'm sorry for that, but it was all I knew how to do. Now I hurt in such a different way and it won't stop either.

Everywhere I turn these days I'm hoping something will help all of this make sense. If it could come all at once and make everything crystal clear... well, it won't and if I'm lucky I'll get little pieces here and there that will eventually show me a bigger picture. For now nothing makes any sense. And I'm trying to be ok with that.

Stepping Back

During a recent conversation with my friend she mentioned that it is ok to step back and let others do the planning. My sister and brother are doing a great job of taking care of things. It's not that I don't want to help but there doesn't seem to be much room for me to do so.

Grief seems to come in waves. I'm hearing so many stories of my Dad's generosity, patience and love for his family. I wasn't always sure if his motives were altruistic but now I'm learning that they were. I'm struggling because he never seemed to have any patience for me but I am trying to hear the stories and learn about a side of him I didn't really know. I do know that he always loved his family as much as he possibly could. What I need to learn in all of this may not become clear for many years.

I will be ok. Eventually it may all make sense.

My Dad is either dying or has died. He fell today and his brain injuries are not the kind a person can ever survive from. Our relationship has always been hard but I had hoped so much, in my deepest of hopes, that one day we would be ok and that he could see my kids.

And I can't sleep. And I so desperately wish I could so that we can start planning our trip west.

This just feel too surreal.

Enough already!

It amazes me how fully my kids live each moment. If they're happy, they beam and smile with every inch of their bodies. If they're pissed, well the whole world is gonna know. And between these two extremes there is so much that happens. The life I see in their eyes as they learn and explore everything around them is inspiring. I love how much they love their life and how proud they are of themselves and what they accomplish each and every day. I've said it before and I will say it until the day that I die, I will do everything in my power to help them grow and strengthen in who they are; I want them to be courageous in who they are and each step they take.

When she was around 3 I remember holding my niece's face as she looked up at me and I told her that she was beautiful and that I wanted her to always remember that. Today I learned that this perfect girl is being bullied. I am sickened. I am angry. I am sad. I do not know any particulars, only that she has been having major struggles with getting to sleep and is constantly complaining about stomach aches that my sister is relating to anxiety.

The part of my mum brain that finds ridiculous things to worry about before they are even close to being a possibility has always been afraid of my kids being bullied. Big Love was bullied a when he was in school. To what extent he never says. He only says it is in the past and doesn't matter anymore. He was a skinny kid who was a year and a half younger than his classmates. Very smart. And he wasn't very good at sports. He was the kid who often got picked last. I'm afraid that what happened to him will happen to our kids.

Bullying makes me sick. I hate the stories of children committing suicide because they are being bullied in school, I hate everything that comes of bullying. For some children to be raised believing it is ok to treat other people so poorly is wrong and I pray hard that one day it will end. I never want the light in my kid's eyes to be extinguished by anything or anyone. I do not want anyone to tell them they are not good enough or beautiful enough - or worse, that they would ever believe those words. There is not an inch of them I do not think is absolutely perfect in every way.

I hope my niece can get the help she needs to function better. I hope her bully gets the help s/he needs to stop being angry and hurting my niece.

Some people's fathers!

It's not that often I get a thorough update about what's been going on from my sister, but yesterday's left me with a gnawing feeling in my stomach that I can't seem to shake.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before but my sister opened a cupcake/coffee/tea shop just over a year ago. My dad works in home renovation and is often waiting for things to dry and so he spends a lot of time sitting in the shop. Unfortunately, it seems that his presence there is starting to cause her to lose business.

A young boy, about 12 years old, was there with some friends. He couldn't decided what he wanted so he said that he'd like two cupcakes. The kid is 'playfully' smacked on the arm and told, "No, you don't want two cupcakes. You need a sandwich to go with that." My father proceeded to badger this kid until he ordered a sandwich exactly as my father had told him to. After the kid receives his food he realizes that there is no room to sit, as it was lunchtime. He is quickly grabbed and forced to sit down at the table with my father where he proceeded to not eat the food he ordered because he was too uncomfortable.

Later my sister received a phone call from the mother because she was concerned there was a sexual predator hanging out and badgering children at the shop. The staff remembered all of this and were shocked that my father DID NOT KNOW THE KID AT ALL! Not one fukking bit! She profusely apologized, explaining that my father is lacking in social skills and while he is harmless it is frustrating. She offered a free lunch or to mail a gift card in case she isn't there when he returns. The mother thanked her but said her son will probably never step foot in there again.

This is the second time my father has been asked to stop bothering customers. She says that he disappears for awhile, probably pouting, and then returns later on as if he hasn't learned a damn thing. "You just don't touch other people's kids! You'd think he would have learned when he damn near got his nose broken!" The nearly broken nose was a story I hadn't heard.

There was a hockey game going on. In the small town I grew up in, hockey games are a big thing. A huge portion of the community usually ends up there. Something happened that made my father grab a kid. I guess my father picked the wrong kid to mess with this time as his father wasn't too pleased when he heard what had happened. My father was punched in the face five times. It was rough. My brother was officiating at the hockey game. It was the talk of the town for a long time. Charges were almost made by the kid's family. This situation should have never happened. My father needs to get over himself and back the fukk away. Leave other people alone! (Also, why a 30 something guy thought it was appropriate to punch a 60 year old, I don't know.) Such a mess.

Sometimes I wonder how me and my siblings survived being raised by my father as well as he did. I feel sorry for him. He is lonely, doesn't have a functional relationship in his life and doesn't do a thing to make his life better. My niece and nephew don't want to spend time with him and only do when they have to. When your children have to 'explain' your behavior to strangers ... I don't know. I'm finally at a loss for words about it. To quote my sister, "Yeah ... it was rough. Harder to see him afterwards, tho. Everything about him is rough, sad."

And this is a man who once upon a time was the pastor of a congregation. What seminary wouldn't weed out its applicants a little better! He can't even function in his own life, never mind fulfilling the roles of a pastor!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas (I hope!)

We only have two more Advent presents to open up! Sweet One has really enjoyed reading the stories and eating the chocolates. Christmas is almost here and everyone in this little family is enjoying it as best we can.

Sweet One has slept passed 630 for four days in a row - the last two it was 700! She's been acting a little funny the past two days and I think she's fighting something off and so I hope it doesn't make Christmas too much for her. We decorated the tree yesterday and with each 'ormament' she saw there were oooh's and ahhh's. A nice way to feel the magic of the season through a little one's eyes. After her nap yesterday afternoon, she came downstairs, knelt by the tree and just looked at it. Lots of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas and lots of other television specials have been watched. It's been fun!

Little Man has given me 4 days of decent sleep and so I am feeling the best I've felt in a month or so. He's so busy these days. I think it is time to put away the exersaucer because he really doesn't like staying put. Constantly pulling himself up to standing and grabbing everything that he can see. I'm feeling much busier making sure there is nothing dangerous for him. He does tumble every now and then but we're both surviving with no major injuries! I was worried about putting up the tree but he hasn't reached for it at all - maybe we'll be able to keep it up for more than a few days!

Big Love won't be able to spend much time with us until the afternoon of Christmas Day. I'm having trouble not feeling lonely about this. I married the guy knowing this would happen each and every year, unless he decides to change career paths, but up until Sweet One was born I was involved in all the church stuff, too. I'm going to watch Crazy, Stupid, Love once the presents are under the tree and the stockings have been stuffed. I also think I'll make some mulled wine. Eventually the kids will be bigger and they'll be involved with the happenings at church, too, so it won't feel like we're at home on our own.

We managed to keep to a small budget for Christmas but that hasn't stopped the gifts from piling up. I did want to buy a little more for the kids but there was no point after everything that our family has bought for them! It is really insane and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by how much they will have. I'll be curious to see if Sweet one wants to go through all the presents as fast as possible or play with each one a little like she did last year. Luckily we'll all be together until around 1030 so we can enjoy some time opening them up together.

I did end up getting a new iPod nano! It showed up today and I'm so excited!

I've been having some troubles feeling like it is Christmas. There is no snow on the ground but we did have some flakes in the sky for awhile this morning. With each little moment that Sweet One becomes enraptured by what she sees, I'm feeling a little bit more of what it is all about.

Merry Christmas! I hope that yours has many moments that make the season magical.

A simple Advent tradition is begun

I can't think of the word tradition without going back to my perch on the rooftop, fiddle in hand, as the play started. We had to omit the fun little transitional part between verses due to the incompetence of the pianist but it quickly became a song that drove me nuts. Now I chuckle as I think of simpler times.

Traditions are important and Sweet One is at the age where I can start some with her. She is catching on quickly to so many things. One question I've been asking myself these days is how to instill in my kids and understanding that Christmas is more than just the presents we buy. Another is how do I start to teach my child about being Christian. (That is the choice we have made for our lives and I believe it is more than just taking them to church.)

I wanted to start a simple Advent tradition this year. I learned about this from one of the blogs I frequent and decided that I wanted to use it. It took a lot of cutting and folding before I could put in a few m&m's along with one Hershey's kiss, but I am so happy that I did it.

Sweet One quickly learned that we wait until just before she goes to bed. Tea is made (this wasn't planned but it came about when she asked for tea on December 2) and I lift her up so she can take hold of the evening's present. Last night as Big Love was going to get our tea, Sweet One looked at me and said, "yesterday we had number 3." I was so happy that she remembered - she is catching on so quickly! And so she retrieved December 4 and said, "Oh! my favorite treat" as I poured the goods in her hand. (I need to replace some of the hard candies with more kisses because she didn't like them.) She savored each morsel and then we sat down to read the short story for that night. (I am really enjoying the book I got for this.)

I didn't expect her to grasp all of this so quickly. Seeing her find the magic in each of these little moments, I hope that I can let go of my feelings of inadequacy and help my kids understand what is truly important at this time of year.

Letting go and moving on

Three and a half years ago I made a decision to cut my father out of my life. I had struggled since my teenage years with his emotional abuse and his complete inability to take responsibility for his anger. He phoned at Christmas for the first few years and I took his phone call but other than that, the only communication we have is when I send him his birthday card and Christmas present.

There are moments when I wish I could have made a different decision but for my own mental health I had no other choice. Having children has only made my decision stronger as I do not trust him around them. Big Love and I decided to state in our will that my father is not allowed to be with my children unsupervised, even if I am dead.

I know I have tried to post about this in the past but was never ready. I went back into my drafts to see what was there and this is what I found. I am ready now. By posting it, I hope to let go more.


September 4, 2009
If I've ever understood the idea of an albatross around my neck, it was him. Casting shadows of anger and sadness through everything I did. I hope that one day there will be so much sunlight and the shadow will be obliterated. Without being able to do this I will not be able to find my own path. Without being able to find it, how will I ever teach Sweet One to have the courage to find her own?

His anger may have defined my past but it does not have to define my present or my future. There is a little girl asleep in her crib and she will wake up with the biggest smile on her face for me. Me! Of all the people in the world, I am the lucky one who gets to be her mother. To help her have the best childhood she possibly can and to watch her grow into the woman she will one day be. This is the present and future that matters. 

I hate it that there are moments where I am sucked into the past where I did not feel free to be who I am. I was afraid that I would anger him and that would result in being screamed at, with hisspit accumulating on my face ... or worse. "Because it stung good" was the reason there was a foot long, plastic shoe horn hanging in the utility room. His inability to deal with anger or confrontation is why I still get sick each time of think of it - my stomach turns, I get dizzy and my chest tightens. At the age of 31 I no longer want his anger to have such power over my life.

The bookends to our visits were often a bottle of wine and huge amounts of anxiety. The person to blame was always me, or so he said. The last time I was voluntarily in a room with him he directed the conversation solely to my husband. When I tried to be involved his reaction was one of annoyance. After my sister and brother had joined us neither Big Love nor I were involved in the conversation. My husband is a man of few words but when I heard him say, "That was bad," I knew it wasn't all in my head. As I left the house it was final - I was done. Done being the one to blame and done putting myself in a position where I would leave feeling like shit.

Almost ten years ago I mentioned in passing how I got a lot more beatings than my sister or brother. His response was this : "When i0t's your first child and you're at your wits end, what do you do?" Me? If I ever feel like I am too angry to react in a respectful manner to my child I will leave the room. Take some responsibility for my own actions and then return to finish dealing with the situation. But a complete lack of responsibility in any relationship he has is MO. Three years before his second marriage failed he told me that if it were to end, it would be the fault of her daughter. Really? A stepdaughter can decide whether a marriage is a success or fails?

And so each day I do my best to let go of the hurt and the anger that is left. My father will never truly hear what I have to say. I have tried so many times to get him to hear me since I was just a wee child and it has never worked. But I refuse to let him blame me. I refuse to allow the kind of violence his anger can produce to be near my daughter. One day down the road it is possible that I will let him in our lives but not now.

Prior to becoming pregnant I spent months grieving for a little girl who was wounded from her father's violent outbursts. No matter what I did it was never good enough and if I pushed him far enough he would scream until his spit covered my face, or even worse, beat me until I screamed in agony and humiliation - unable to sit down because of my burning ass. Recalling them immediately makes me sick to my stomach as the little girl inside of me desperately tries to hide.


There are moments in my mothering where I feel overcome by anger but I am proud to say that I do leave the room. I have never hit my daughter, nor will I ever. I have yelled but never directly in her face and I always apologize. I still have a ways to heal my own wounds but I know I can get there. There are moments when I hold my children and I feel sad that he does not know them. But quickly after this thought, I try to figure out how anyone could ever harm a child and I know my decision is the one that I needed to make.

It was good for me to read this post this morning (and the link in the post). To help me understand that I am not alone in my struggles with this relationship. While we all get to a difficult place in different ways, it all sucks. But we don't have to let it continue ... we can do better for our own children.

Perhaps one day I will allow him into our lives, but not until I know he has taken some measures to deal with his issues and his anger. But he is a child and behaves as one in many situations. So I'm not expecting any miracles any time soon.

Motherlode

It is impossible to pinpoint a time when my relationship with my mother started to decline but I know it wasn't always like this. The actual moment when I no longer felt like my mother would actually listen to me and hear what I'm saying is gone. It's rather sad. Quietly, I've always hoped for an idealized relationship with my mom. You know, the kind you see in the movies! Despite struggles, miscommunications and emotions, it always ends up being resolved after reaching an intimate honesty that can only be found between a mother and daughter. Well, maybe not exactly like the movies but similar to some I've seen between my friends and their mothers.

Last Thursday my mom and step-dad came for their first visit since Little Man was born. I was excited for the kids to see them and I thought that it started out well. We went to a zoo-type place on Friday where Sweet One had an amazing time and then on Saturday my mom and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen preparing the brunch that would follow Little Man's baptism. Sweet One absolutely loved having her here and I loved watching them together. I will especially remember how much Sweet One loved to walk hand in hand with my mom. But then it all suddenly went to shit. I didn't even realize what was happening. One of those moments where it is almost impossible to grasp what is really going on.

Let me set the scene with a little back story. My kitchen sucks. It is small and the space is poorly designed. Very little counter space to do anything. My mom made many comments about how difficult it is to work in my kitchen on Saturday and I agreed because we were working. I often complain to myself or Big Love while I'm working in there. On Sunday there were a total of 10 adults and 4 kids eating brunch and we pulled it off nicely. In the evening I was looking forward to some relaxing after such a busy day but my mom seemed to want to spend more time consumed by how shitty my kitchen is and what she would do to fix it. I asked her to stop. It wasn't only this visit that she has told me over and over how bad my kitchen is and I just wanted a break for a bit. I was tired. It had been a long day. She went off her rocker! Suddenly saying, "you have to let me be me" and a myriad of other things that made absolutely no sense. The more I desperately tried to get her to listen to what I was saying, the more she pursed her lips and stiffened her face. I wanted to scream, "wake the fuck up! I am not trying to criticize! You are putting words in my mouth!" but as my sister later told me, there is no point. She's in a point in her life where she is wrapped up so tightly in her own things that she doesn't hear what people are saying and it's annoying. There is nothing we can do about it.

Monday morning she came to me and said that she and my step-dad were thinking of leaving early "because we haven't seen much of [the area just north of the US border]. You're so busy with the two kids and I think we're wearing out our welcome." I was sick to my stomach. As if all the struggles in our relationship are solely my fault! (As my sister also told me, my mom acts as if she never does anything wrong.) They did end up staying for one more day but after that you could cut the tension with a knife. I couldn't say anything without her reacting negatively. When they left the next morning, my step-dad said good-bye to everyone but me and pretty much ran out the door as fast as he could.

I sometimes wonder if we put too much expectation on these visits. With such a huge distance of space between us, it's as if we want a perfect time together to make up for how little time we spend together and how much money we have to invest in order to see each other.


Unfortunately, I think I need to lower my expectations. Both for these visits (if there are anymore!) and my relationship with my mom. I wish she was my 'go to' person but if I am honest with myself, she really hasn't been for many years. It is obvious to me that at this point in our lives we are not going to meet in the middle any time soon. My sister also struggles with my mom's deaf ears and so it is not just me being targeted and this helps me feel a little better.

I can not change her, I can only change myself. I will learn to let go. But the disappointment this realization brings is hard.

"Oh, Mother. I loved her at that moment, but what a motherlode she is."

Remembering the Bones, Frances Itani

(Today I put together a tumbling composter that my step-dad had bought me while he was here. Shortly after it was done I began to fill it with compost and about 5 minutes later it broke. I can almost guarantee you that my mom is thinking it is a symbol of our visit! "Because everything is a symbol to her.")

Merrily they roll along

MIL to Sweet One (in an unnaturally high pitch): What noise does a zebra make? I don't think they make a noise

Me: You'd probably get the same answer I got when I googled Do Hippos make a noise? Only they fart! (Then I laughed.)

I tell ya, I almost had to pick up her eyeballs as they rolled across the floor! Perhaps it is best if I stay in the kitchen and continue to work on a Turkey dinner. The Pecan Pie is just finishing up!

And sometimes, all I can do is laugh

I wasn't all that quiet about my surprise and hesitation at the idea of my in-laws coming for a visit. Quite frankly, I'm still not. But I agreed to it because I know it is good for Sweet One to have time with her Grandparents and also Big Love wasn't as against the visit as I was! They planned to be here for three nights and until a few moments ago* it sounded like it would be shortened to two. The Nor'easter that is kicking the world of airline travel's ass has landed them in Philly for a few more hours than originally anticipated. We warned them that with such a short time for a visit (a cruise took up the majority of their vacation) they were taking a chance with the weather forcing them into a hotel for an extra night or two. As I watched the weather channel yesterday I just shook my head and laughed because really, what else do you do? So many other times I've worried about weather and it turned out fine.

Then last night happened. Sweet One slept until 330 and I miraculously got just under a straight 5 hours of sleep. But she didn't get back to sleep until 415 or so. And then I didn't get back to sleep until some time after 507. And then the phone rang at 534 with an automated voice telling me that my in-laws flight out of Philly was cancelled. And then Sweet One woke up at 622. By 700 we had checked out a few things online, tried to see if the in-laws were still at their hotel but they had checked out, and I was trying to get a little more sleep. But Big Love and I had forgotten to send the phone out of the room with him and my FIL woke me up at 745 to tell me what was going on. "Yup, I know it's cancelled because the airline called me at 535!" I was finally able to get a bit more sleep after that. Completely surprising to me is that I'm not pissed off about all that because it got to the point that it was beyond the point of ridiculous so I'm just laughing.... and about to have a nap.

*After typing the first few sentences my FIL called again and said they are on a 351 flight which is about 6 hours earlier than they had originally thought they'd get one. We'll pick them up at the airport and they'll get to spend the drive home with Sweet One before I put her to bed at her regular time.

I want to be a bitch rather than gracious and understanding

My in-laws recently emailed me asking about Christmas lists and if they could come for a visit next month. This is quite a surprise as they usually give us much more warning about when they want to come and also December is probably one of the busiest times for Big Love. I have no idea why they directed the email in a joint account to just me because if they knew my initial reaction was to scream NO! they might have also addressed it to Big Love!

I wish I was one of those women who got excited at the idea of the in-laws visiting but I simply am not and can't seem to be no matter how hard I try. The conversation wraps around and repeats so many times that I get dizzy out of boredom and I truly can not relate to my MIL's life. She's retired from her part-time work at retail stores and, from what I can tell, spends it watching tv and reading. Sometimes Big Love will call and my FIL is out doing something on his day off and she is still at home doing nothing. She doesn't have any friends that she gets together with, doesn't do crafts or bake or cook to pass the time. She's quiet, prim and proper and likes to glare at me when I say things she either doesn't understand or thinks is ridiculous. I find this very hard to relate to and it exhausts me to be tiptoeing around my personality in fear of doing something that might blow the roof off.

Sweet One and I have also been battling a relapse of whatever it was we were sick with a few weeks ago. Add the time change being something she hasn't adapted to and we're all very tired here. For instance, this morning she woke up at 5:04. I went in to try and get her back to sleep and at 5:20 I left to use the bathroom. She started crying again and so I spent the next hour and ten minutes sitting on the cold hardwood floor with my arm between the slats of her crib trying to keep her relaxed and resting. Big Love came in when she started talking at 6:30 to find me lying on the floor between the crib and the wall. (We have to pull the crib out from the wall or she turns on and off the light instead of sleeping.) I'm exhausted and she's exhausted. Big Love is also very tired with a demanding month ahead. The idea of having to cook and clean for anyone at all for a 'few' (curious about their definition of that word) days makes me want to cry.

I am trying to believe in the importance of putting myself in their shoes as well. I understand it can be hard for them to be away from Sweet One and it would be good for her to have time with her grandparents. Also, Big Love is approaching his 30th birthday so there is no doubt in my mind that that is part of the reason they want to come to visit. I have told Big Love that in the end it is his parents and if he'd really like them to come he can make that decision and I'll suck it up. Because every once in awhile you have to do something you don't really want to for the rest of your family. He'd just better find a way to take a few days off work so I'm not stuck with them on my own for the majority of the time because the last time that happened I almost lost my mind.

She thinks I'm a Mokey!

Thursday afternoon after I finally convinced myself to get Sweet One outside for a bit (knowing full well her Dad would be coming home shortly and take over the child care for me!) we stepped outside onto the porch and there was a package. I was very curious about this package because I was not expecting anything from amazon and so I quickly opened it and found a Mokey doll. I pulled up the packing list and it read:

Hi Sweet One. I'm sending you this Fraggle. Her name is Mokey and she always reminds me of your mom...she's the fraggle version of your mom so when you snuggle her it's like snuggling your mom.

I will admit that my first instinct was, is Mokey the winer? What does she do that is annoying? Ridiculous, I know. And now as I've looked up a character description I am completely flattered. I found it on wikipedia:

Mokey represents a highly spiritual and artistic type (she recites poetry, sketches and paints), and usually remains quiet and contemplative, though even she can get annoyed from time to time. She functions as the optimist of the group, trying to see the best in everyone and everything, and comforting her friends when no such "bright side" can be found. According to episode 15, Mokey can make friends quite easily because of her optimistic personality. Though spiritual and serene, Mokey has the dangerous job of procuring radishes from the Gorgs' garden. Mokey has mauve skin and light blue green hair; she wears a greyish brown cardigan. She also wears the pop-top from a soda can as a necklace pendant.*

So I guess I've learned that I can just smile and be thankful that my sister thinks of me in such a cute way! Watching Fraggle Rock was something that we did as kids and whenever I see their DVDs, I look forward to introducing Sweet One to them.

*This description was found in Wikipedia.

Growth Spurts

In the past week, Big Love and I are constantly surprised with what Sweet One is able to reach. Our sofa table that two weeks ago she couldn't really reach the top of is now fair game, as is our bedside tables and pretty much anything else that is about two and a half feet high! She can even grab things that are on the edge of our table - like my seam ripper! Good lord. Well, just one more way in which her growth spurts surprise us and announce their arrival once they're done!

***
I can not stop laughing at a little thing that happened while on the phone with my sister. Suddenly, she started laughing at her son. He was packing for their camping trip: one beer for mom, one beer for dad, a pop for himself and a key for the RZR! Kids are hilarious!

It doesn't get much better

I am lying in bed. Anything outside of the glow of this little scream is a dark black that swallows up everything. My daughter is fast asleep in her crib. My husband is sleeping next to me. In the guest room/studio are two of the most important people in the world to me. They are here for a visit and I have been beyond excited. We had a late dinner of Pinot Noir and Spring Veggie Pizza.

Sweet One greeted them at the airport as if she had just seen them yesterday! Such a difference from either visit with her grandparents. (And strangers in general.)

And so I have two and a half days to make the most of their time here. We're just going to hang out and spend time together. My words fail.

I'd also be this excited if it were my sister and her family visiting. Or my friend from Montreal. Not that there are any competitions going on. It's just funny how I had so much anxiety about the two sets of grandparents coming and now there is none. I wish we didn't need sleep so I could have more time with them!

Mmmm, pie

For the past couple of years, my attempts to try and make a pie crust on my own have been complete failures. Whether it was gluten-free or regular, margarine or shortening, nothing worked.
So when my mom was visiting last week I had her help me make a pie crust and voila! it didn't suck. It was good to be doing something with my mom where we just joked around. (Any time she was given the tiniest opportunity during her visit to start talking about her theology and all that she's learning as a minister, she'd get going on this brainwave that left no room for anyone to be involved - the pitch of her voice also jumped up an octave or so and the sing-song was incredibly which made me start to wonder if any LSD behind my back.) SO, it was nice to not have to venture into the 'land of wonder and amazement' and just have some pie at the end of the day! She did get a little grossed out when I ate some of the scraps from the crust. I had to make sure it was the same recipe that she used when I was little and since I'd gorge myself on the raw pie dough, it was the only way I knew how!

A visit and painting have eaten up the past two weeks!

What a couple of weeks it has been! Sweet One got two teeth - molars!

My mom and stepdad came to visit for a week. It is hard to visit with my mom because in the past two years she has been working as a minister (unordained) at a church and is so excited about everything that she is doing and learning. It is great for her because she has always wanted to do this but hard for me because once she gets going on this stuff she almost becomes a different person. I can't put it all into words right now which is probably why I haven't been posting - because this has been on my mind for awhile now and I don't feel ready to put it all out there.

My porch has now been painting. I still have to paint the lattice that is skirting it as well as one other section, but in general the surface has been sanded, caulked and painted over the past few weeks. I have two other projects to get painted in the house and then the rest of what is outside. I hate all these little painting jobs hanging over my head.

Sweet One is in bed right now crying for my attention - cry a bit, stop a bit, etc. We are in the transition of moving to one nap and sometimes it makes bedtime hard because she gets so wired playing after supper that it is impossible to slow her down and yet she won't let me sit and rock her ... that is until I go back into her room.

Anything exciting going on in your world?

SOKC - A Sleepy One Kid Christmas

For the most part, I don't mind living away from my family. I don't even mind having a quiet Christmas with just the three of us here. Making our own traditions, not having to plan our day around everyone else's schedule - a quiet day or two where we spend time together. Christmas always felt very stressful for me and, quite honestly, depressing prior to having Big Love in my life. This is why I am content here with our family and his church schedule. But there is always one day prior to Christmas Eve and Day that I do wish it was easier to see my family at this time of year. And today, it seems like it is the day.

I haven't put our tree up yet because I don't want to spend every moment chasing after Sweet One and trying to catch the tree as she pulls it over. Our mantel and tv storage thing is decorated.

In the perfect world which I imagine in my head, I want to have another child who is about 2 years younger than Sweet One. Right now I see a problem with that. The idea of ever having a second child right now is the most terrifying thing in the world. We have been working SO hard over the past two months to get Sweet One sleeping better and it doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere. It is getting harder and harder to be productive in my days when I am this exhausted. It doesn't feel like it will ever get any better and the idea of being pregnant again and doing this all over makes me want to jump off the roof of my house. I know many parents out there have problems with children and sleep. It is crazy how it can become all consuming in a day.

I think we have one of those phone systems that can only send calls and not receive them.

Sweet One loves to drink water out of my glass. She giggles just before she is about to drink and then after. It is so cute. There are moments like this that make the lack of sleep worth it. Thank God. Otherwise I think I'd jump off the roof of my house.