Tap tap tap

In 2 weeks, I will have 3 teenagers in my house.

It's unfathomable.... One of the most shocking aspects of parenting is how your children disappear. They evolve and change so much in such short periods of time. You think you know who they are and then...poof. Who they were is no longer who they ARE and you had better pay attention, Mama; you can't live in the past (no matter how much you want to, because teenager years are SCARY AS HELL).

I can't write about them the way I used to. Their stories are theirs and are more personal than before. The funny stuff is still funny, but there are a lot of deep moments lately. I'm adjusting to figuring out how to write about our lives without crossing boundaries... 

Corinne and I spent a long time reading old blog posts together the other day. She and I laughed SO hard and she basically begged me to start writing again... It is incredibly validating to know that the time I spent recording our memories on this blog is already valuable to her. I know it will be important to them some day when they're older, but it's truly wonderful to have it acknowledged already.


Still, I'm a little out of practice. I don't walk around writing stories in my head anymore, like I used to. I've been living offline a lot more which is deliberate and rewarding. I need to find a balance of writing and retaining the current memories while still enjoying our real lives.

 

Mind Log Post

Man, I miss blogging. The blogging of 8 years ago with the community and the constant thought process of recording a moment in time. I love to read through my old posts and feel the memories of moments I HAD forgotten, brought back to the surface of my mind. So much beauty in this life I live... I'm thinking about renewing my attention here, and writing on more regular basis without really worrying about what I'm writing. I would like to have more of these "nothing special" moments recorded, too....

I am so content at this very moment. This moment, with a messy house, dirty hair, and a hot cup of cappuccino (fancy new coffee making present for Patrick = fancy new coffees for ME. Win/win). This is the part of winter that I LOVE. There are 363 days till Christmas!! That is the best feeling in the world. I may enjoy parts of the holiday season, but I really just want to hibernate, avoid talking to people all the time, skip shaving my legs, and wear fuzzy socks. I love this Season of Soup and Hot Drinks and feel so relaxed right now.

So many Elizabeths

Joanne, Marilyn, Jessie, Ethel, Jennie, Lottie, Mary, Nettie, Salome, Theresa, Carmella, Catherine, Elizabetta, Maria, Elizabeth, Sarah, Anna, Isabella, Rosa, Isabelle, Anna, Mary, Anna, Freny, Anna Maria, Maria Elizabeth, Martha, Lillian, Elizabeth, Abigail, Elizabeth, Abigail, Louisa, Lydia, Experience, Mary, Elizabeth, Margery, Mary, Rebecca, Phoebe, Ann, Mary, Elizabeth, Sarah, Elizabeth, Ann, Martha, Louise, Caroline, Barbara, Sarah, Cristina, Brita, Maja, Johanna, Kjersten, Lias, Anna, Elna, Anna, Catharina, Butvi, Lisbeth, Gertrud, and Catharina...

I'm all about connections to the past and how they relate to our present. I gave myself an early Christmas present of a renewed subscription to Ancestry.com. This month has been spent diving into the files upon files of antique cursive where forgotten ancestors' births and deaths are recorded with startling lack of penmanship (I mean, seriously? Can you not separate and define your letters?). My house has been filled with my shouts of  "Oh my gosh! Look! Here is the actual town in Sweden your 4th time grandfather was born in!" or "Both the father and mother died on Christmas day after drowning in a river crossing...how horrible!" Responses to my exclamations are met with every type of response from "That's so awesome, Mom," to "You can't cry for everyone, Mom. They've been dead for over 2 hundred years."

Those names up there? They belong to my mother and to all of the other mothers of everyone that has led to my existence (that I can find so far). These women all loved and hoped and dreamed for their babies. Some were probably amazing mothers and others may have lacked, but each and every one of them holds a link to my past. I cannot explain how important it is to me, right now and always, to feel this connection to the world. Continents are crossed and centuries are spanned and it all still leads back to me, sitting in my kitchen in Illinois, raising my own 3 children. Living for a moment before I also pass on into what will someday be thought of as the distant past...

It's incredibly humbling.

*"Experience" wins for the most awesome name of all...so far.

Hello

So, despite the fact that Justin is 18, he only JUST got his license last week and is driving, solo, for the first time tonight. I am NOT FREAKING OUT. Not at all. Just.... Ok. I'm freaking a bit. I mean, holy shit. This is bigger than letting them go to the park or even letting Evan ride the raft down the river with Connor by themselves (I mean, water = drowning). This is a vehicle. On the road. With other people who are not aware that MY CHILD is on the road with them...

Deep breaths. He'll be home soon, and then I can breathe. Until he takes the car out by himself tomorrow, and I have to worry all over again.

Hold me.

Justin starts JJC on Monday in their culinary program and Evan and Corinne will be starting their Sophomore year and 6th grade school work at home on Monday. Life is pretty tame right now and that is pretty fine with me, to be honest.

And so, this is the update for my future self, as I wonder why in the hell I wasn't updating more often as the kids were getting older. Give yourself a break, future self. Remember how hellish this past year has been (or don't, because you deserve a break from the grief, girl) and give your past self a pass. The kids are awesome. Patrick is awesome. You are awesome. Some of the sweeter, smaller moments may not be as well documented as in the past, but that's ok. It's in your head, if only you work a little harder to find it.

Points to spark future memories:

Evan's tone as he jokingly calls me "Maaa-aaa--aaaaah!"

Corinne's obsession with making slime. All the slime. All over the house. Including baggies that spill into her underwear drawer. Sigh.

Justin coming to terms with not going into the Marines and refocusing on culinary school, instead.

IRELAND. Oh, Ireland. (I will definitely write about that trip, because Oh my goodness, the green. The memories...)

LTYM ending. Bittersweet, but timely. Moving onward, as it were.

Evan slowly coming around to being less teenagery and more adult-like when dealing with you. Small favors, sweet Universe. Thank you for them.

Corinne's last moments as a young girl... They're just wisps right now. She's nearly a young lady. It's there, on the edge of the horizon, and it's beautiful, but definitely heart-breaking as her mom. Sigh.

You are teetering on the edge of several life changes... Healthier eating. Healthier living. A sudden consciousness of different desires to live a fuller but simpler life. The amazing coincidence that Patrick is coming into that consciousness simultaneously. Hoping that this change becomes something greater that sticks...

And now I have to go sit by the front window because Justin is leaving his game night and on his way home and I don't want to obsess, but I think I'm going to let myself do it, just this once. He is, after all, my baby.

Breaking the Seal

Springtime always makes me nostalgic. Hopeful, happy, and wistful... This year, with so many monumental changes in my life, just seeing the trees yesterday caused me to out and out sob. I am serious. They were so green, and so fresh! Beside them, the first goslings of the year were toddling about on the newly mown slope that led down to the lake and I lost my shit under a sky so blue it was blinding. With my windows open and upbeat music playing, I had to pull over and let the grief  over the swiftness of life wash over me.

I know I can't hold back the emotions when they hit. At least, not for long. If I am feeling overcome, keeping my tears inside doesn't help anything. It's such a release to just bawl, knowing it won't be permanent. Just as nothing in the springtime lasts for much longer than a moment, my pain for everything I have lost (and am going to lose) doesn't have to stick around too long, either.

I hadn't really gotten emotional during our read through's for the Listen To Your Mother show. I mean, I was really upset in August when I learned of the upcoming ending, but it was still in the distant future and I was overwhelmed with so many other losses, that this one didn't take precedence. The other day, Melisa and I read through the final version of our script and the last words that we will ever read on stage and...nothing. I didn't cry.

"Crap. I really need to cry," I told her. I knew that if it didn't come out beforehand, it would be too much on stage on May 7th. I needed a pre-cry!!

I started listing all of the things that I would miss about the show, and all of the people I was in contact with that I wouldn't be talking to as much, and that I probably wouldn't ever be working with her on a project again (she moved to Knoxville!)... And then the seal was broken. It isn't the stage, or the attention, or the sharing of my own stories that I will truly miss (though I love all of that, so very much). It is knowing that this portion of my life, with constant contact with people that I love, will be over.

And I'm ok with it. I AM. Shut up. I AM. Just like I'm "ok" with my kids growing up and life changing and, gulp, the death of my dad. I'm ok with it in that I have no control over any of them, and so I HAVE TO be ok, otherwise...what would I be?

The sheer beauty in the greenness of those trees and freshness of the goslings is the impermanence of it all. Life is precious because it is fleeting. If my babies were to be babies forever, the joy of new discoveries wouldn't exist. I treasure the peaks of joy in life because they are just that: peaks, surrounded by valleys. Up and Down and up again...

I cry a lot. I always have. I feel the moments pass and the emotions overwhelm me. Joy and pain are just opposite sides of the same coin and I KNOW that I cannot have one without the other. And so I choose to enjoy this moment in my life. Climbing this current mountain of hope and happiness and trying to enjoy all of the small moments that Life presents to me.

Oh hi. Still alive. Still struggling.

Currently in a state of flux as Justin is now 18 (and I didn't write him a birthday letter and I'm going to feel some serious guilt over that. I need to write SOMETHING for my firstborn child), and the house is in disarray from trying to finish projects, start projects, and plan for 437 activities/vacations/responsibilities all at once.

I decided that RIGHT NOW was the best time ever to finally save my old VHS home movies onto DVD and digitize them. So, I've been on a memory lane bender for the past week, wondering where my babies are. I am actually serious when I say that I am angry that they aren't here anymore. They were here, in my arms, and now they're different people. Completely different people. I had that magical period of time and now it's gone and I'm pissed off. I love their personalities now, don't get me wrong, but my babies/toddlers/young children were insanely special people who have left forever. Yeah, I've cried. Ironically though, I have only cried a few times when I see my dad on video. I'm actually super grateful to have all of these moments on film to replace my final memories of him being so very sick. And if I can erase the final time I looked upon his face from my mind completely, that would be awesome.

Anyway. Sitting in a house with boxes and laundry and random shit. Feeling overwhelmed and ready to just throw it all away (which I've actually been doing a lot of lately. But I'd be happy to just take a box of photos and videos and maybe a spare change of clothes and LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND).

deep breaths. Trying.

Where's the sun?

New Year

Christmas came and went and we survived, even though it sometimes hurt so badly I couldn't see. And then it didn't hurt and then it did and and then it didn't and back and forth and the waves keep coming...

Life. It is so incredibly messy and twisted. We build these foundations of "security" that are just fabrications. Our minds cannot cope with the knowledge that everything is absolutely impermanent, so we create little security blankets of twisted bits of thread. The illusion of control and safety is what allows us to rise each morning and move through each day, working and cleaning and fiddling our lives away with the unimportant necessities that living in a society require. All the while we are holding this threadbare-blanket over our heads, like toddlers in our cribs, hoping to keep the monsters away.

There is a huge, gaping, ragged hole in my blanket and I am unsure if I even want to try to stitch it together again. If I keep staring through the holes in my safety blanket, if I acknowledge the monsters every morning, perhaps the inevitable destruction they WILL bring won't be as much of a shock. As I've always said, and thought I understood; it's not IF someone dies, it's WHEN they die. If I am truly grateful to see someone each time we get together, knowing that it's never a guarantee, will it help to keep my eyes open to the fragility of this entire experience on Earth?

~~

Separate brain rant: If I hear one more person compare the death of their loved one to something mystical and beautiful, I MAY JUST SCREAM. It was not peaceful, it was not beautiful. I did not feel grateful that he finally left and that his pain was over, because the pain didn't go away, it just transferred to all of us. Death from cancer was messy and ugly and cruel. It took so much from him and us and took so incredibly long... Knowing that people are experiencing our pain right now, every day, over and over again, just rips me up.

~~

And now it's 2017 and it's a new year and the end of the year that my father last lived. 2016 was his last year, and that year is over... And I honestly just want to take one more picture with him.

Christmas 2016

2 days till Christmas... I have cried every day for at least the past 2 weeks, knowing that it's going to suck. I just want to DO IT ALREADY and put this check mark on my to-do list of "things to get through for the first time without Dad." I'm hoping that the expectations are worse than the actual experiences; kind of like childbirth. (hahahahahaa. That was a joke because HOLY SHIT, childbirth was kind of like the 7th circle of hell) (But I'd do it again in a heartbeat because the reward is pretty freaking awesome).

2016 has been kind of a collection of AMAZINGLY AWESOME moments mixed in with pain unlike anything I'd ever considered possible. I had some of the best experiences, including a surprise 40th birthday party, a long-awaited dream trip to New Orleans with Patrick, a special 10th birthday trip with Corinne and a surprise trip to L.A. with Justin, and just so much joy, that you would think 2016 would have gone down as The Best. But then LTYM announced it was ending, a dear friend moved away, my child had some serious friend issues, a special little girl was diagnosed with a life changing condition, another special girl nearly died and continues to struggle every day, the Anti-Christ was elected the president of our country, my dad went through 4 months of hell before dying a week before Thanksgiving... it's just been a little too much Bad to balance out the Good.

I'm trying, though. I'm trying to focus on everything I have that makes me happy...

Evan is playing rock music on his electric guitar as I type, and that brings me joy. He's so talented and is really dedicated to it. I love to see him excelling in music. As usual, he continues to revel in his role as the family clown, and his jokes/wit have actually gotten me through some pretty crappy moments this year. One of his "Evanisms" of 2016: "Whoa, you put up a lot of Christmas lights! I guess you could say our house is pretty 'lit.' " (executed with an awesome sense of timing and tone.) I wish I had had enough forethought to record more of them as I have in the past, but life has just been about survival lately. It's enough to remember that his humor has helped me immensely.

Corinne has truly matured this year, in academics and athletics, but also in her kindness and heart. Seeing her grow into such a lovely young lady is both rewarding and heartbreaking. One of her greatest strengths is her generosity and understanding of what others need in a moment of difficulty. She is still our baby and is happiest when the entire family is home, eating dinner together.

This is Justin's last Christmas as a "kid." For years, I thought my focus this year would be on how sad I am over his impending adulthood status, but instead, I am just happy that the five of us are here and healthy and relatively happy. I am so grateful that he has found a niche of people at school and in the gaming community to connect with. Seeing him excel at League of Legends (it's a computer game that is an eSport. Don't ask me to explain it to you) was something akin to watching your child who played an outdoor sport for their whole childhood finally be recognized in public for their skills. I've yet to meet an adult who doesn't say to me "He's a really cool person!" Also, Justin is an AMAZING cook. Like, holy crap, how did we not know this about him? I honestly cannot stress how much pride I take in his culinary skills. I have great hopes for him and for our future family dinners at his house. :)

~~~

Wish us luck this weekend. My intention is to let the sadness in, grieve for him and send him love, and then to enjoy and be present in the moments I have with the people I love. Hug your loved ones this holiday season. Look into their eyes and tell them you love them - let them see you and actually hear you. Take the mental snapshots of the joy, even in the midst of the pain.

I am blessed. Merry Christmas to you all.

A nightmare...

There are moments from yesterday that I cannot believe weren't all dreams... actually, nightmares.

I'm not sure how it's possible that I am sitting here this morning. That I managed to take a shower and accept the cup of coffee from Patrick after screaming at him as I woke up from a fitful sleep. That sleep held another nightmare. One where he too dies of cancer. A cancer he got from smoking for so very many years, despite my logical conversations, and then anger, and finally desperate pleas. The anger I unleashed upon him this morning was not 100% fair, given that, although it is rooted in a fear I carry with me every day, it was triggered from the real pain I'm feeling after yesterday's ACTUAL nightmares.

Somehow, even though it's impossible, my dad finally passed away yesterday.

I am fatherless.

After I hung up with her, and after I threw up in the bathroom, I picked up my mom and we drove to the nursing home and we looked upon his body and he was no longer in it... Those moments, in that room, with my mother and my sisters... I don't want to remember those. But I fear they will be forever etched in my mind, clear as a bell...

I don't like the idea of"stages" of grief. That suggest to me stages that you actually GET through, instead of the waves of emotions that continually knock you over. I'm not dealing with one stage right now. The shock and the sadness are working right alongside the anger. Sometimes denial and bargaining show up for kicks. And I'm only on day 2.

Of course, having known he was dying since July, and having had him in the obvious end stages of his life this past month, we've already BEEN grieving for what seems like forever. I know all of my family was feeling the same as I was:

"It is insanely fucked up to want someone you love so much to just die."

Being a rational and moderately intelligent person, I knew that I didn't actually WANT my DAD to die. What I ACTUALLY wanted was selfish; I wanted my dad alive and well and making bad jokes at the Thanksgiving table. But instead of that, which was impossible, I had to hope for my dad to be free from the pain. I wanted US to be free from the pain of the limbo we were all living within. We were actively grieving for a man who was still alive. Every day began with the question of "Is today the day?" Every time I said goodbye, I kissed him, put his hand on my cheek and wondered, "Is this the last time? Is this the memory I have to hold onto because tonight, the phone will ring?"

Monday, the day of the actual last day I saw him, I managed to get there in the morning to avoid the stream of people that had filled his room every other time I was able to visit. Don't get me wrong, I am SO GRATEFUL that he had so many visitors, and I don't wish that they weren't there; but I was feeling anxious that the time I was having "with" him wasn't actually WITH him. I needed a quiet morning with him and my sister Vicky. And it was good. And she and I cried with each other, and held his hands, and wiped his face, and told him it was ok to go...

I had time alone with him, for the first time in a long time, and I held him and told him the same things I've said before. I love you. I know you love me. I am so proud you were my dad, and I know you're proud of me. My other sister, Jill, came and then we both had a quiet afternoon together. And we cried and we held his hands and we told him it was ok to go...

And then, it was time for me to go. And this time, as all of the other times before, I put his hand on my cheek and my head on his chest, and I hugged my daddy for the last time and told him it was ok to go now...

I had started making a photo album for him about a month ago, right around the time that we knew he wasn't likely to come back home again. I wanted him to have photos surrounding him, with faces he loved, and stories to share about all of the memories we'd made. Sadly, the cancer was too painful. The pain meds were never able to be on top of his pain AND not affect his cognition. And so the photo album became something else. It became the book I knew we'd bring to his funeral. I worked on it for an unbelievable amount of hours, and it still came down to the final hours of last night, where I realized that I didn't have a picture of So-and-so or that something wasn't straight and it didn't look "right." Feeling the tension and anxiety flooding over me, I rushed through it, knowing it would be FINE and that anyone who felt under-represented in the book would probably understand.

I'm so scared. I'm so scared of what life will look like without him in it. I'm so scared of knowing my mom is alone every night. I'm so scared that my kids and nieces and nephews will lose their memories of him. I'm so scared that I will lose memories of him...

Driving home last night, do you know what made me start crying and screaming again? I had been relatively calm for several hours, and maybe it was natural that it all came spewing out again, but the realization that he would never make potato salad for parties again nearly knocked me over. My mom makes the same damn potato salad, but my dad and I have very similar tastes on consistency and I always liked his ratios and blah blah blah and I started bawling like a baby. He won't make potato salad or Papa's noodles or barbecue on the grill again. He won't be at the head of the table at Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving, raising his glass and smiling at everyone. He will never cannon ball into the pool with the kids or hide flamingos in my mom's Christmas village. All of the little things that made him so special, are simply no more.

I always imagined this day would be impossibly hard. I had no idea it would be so much harder than I thought...

This Sucks

I've written every emotion I've felt over these past 4 months. I've written them in my head, and never managed to get them onto paper or screen because it's just too much. Too much pain, too much anger. Too many nights screaming in the van until I'm hoarse because no one should have to watch someone they love die like my dad is dying.

So many tears. I cry regularly, and at the drop of a hat. Every drive to visit him, and every drive home, I play the memories of him over and over in my mind, trying to retain them and mark them somehow. Sometimes I'm lucky, and he will be in that in-between state of consciousness where he can nod or smile when I talk about memories or what our family is currently doing. Sometimes, he'll look at me and actually SEE me and the hours of crying on the ways there and back are worth it for that moment of clarity where I can say "I love you" and he will smile and kiss me. 

I'm so tired of this present stage. I'm so tired of him being here, but not actually BEING here. I want nothing more than more time with my dad, and that is what makes this slow death so painful to witness. I don't WANT him to die, but I don't want him to live like THIS. 

I wish so much that I could have one more real moment with him. His last truly lucid moments were agonizing as the pain was so intense that nothing else mattered. Now that the pain is being "managed" with heavy medication, and the cancer is working its way through his brain, it feels like we get to watch him die in a thousand tiny moments...

This is excruciating.

I drove home last night, sobbed at a few stop lights, and screamed several obscenities. If I live long enough, I will have to go through this pain countless times. How many people do I love? Like, really, truly love. Twenty? Thirty? Is this how it will feel each time someone I love passes away? Is it more intense because it is so damn slow and painful? How many times can a person withstand this level of emotions before they crack?

I want my Daddy. I want him to hug me again and call me Ta-ta-wa-ta and make stupid, punny jokes, and tell me where the best sales are at. I want to go to his house with all of his grandkids and listen to them ask for popcorn and ice cream; I want to hear them yell and laugh with excitement over all of the cool ice cream bars he always has. I want to listen to him and Patrick rib each other over their golf scores and marvel that my dad and husband get along so well. I want to see him sitting in his chair on Christmas evening, as all of us are crammed into the living room at their house, presents piled in towers of gleaming colors. I want to take a picture of him taking a picture of me across the room, and know that he is hiding one of his presents under the chair so that he can be the last one to open a present on Christmas day. 

This stage really sucks, but I am not ready for the next one. Not really. But I don't have any control over it. It's coming, and I can feel how close it is every time I say goodbye. Soon, I will live in a world that he isn't in, and there isn't anything I can do about it.

Culinary Fight Club Chicago!

Still can't believe my "baby" is nearly an adult (4 more months till it's official; Hold me). That said, it's pretty awesome to do things with him one on one. We talk and talk without interruption and I am reminded, once again, just how cool he really is. 

His culinary arts program through the local college/high school collaboration is his favorite thing (after computer gaming). I am always thrilled to indulge this obsession and possible career choice (except when he's telling me how wrong I am doing things in the kitchen. Oy.).

Taking Justin to the September Culinary Fight Club in Chicago was right up his alley. 

It really was cool to see the different teams going their own directions, knowing that we were going to taste them ALL. :)

We each had our own favorites, and the food WAS delicious, but in the long run, the best part for me was this:

 Getting to listen to my child (4 more months left!! I'm gonna say it while I CAN) describe his passion for creative cooking was a gift. Though we cannot make it to the October Fight Club, we fully intend on going again!

The next Culinary Fight Club in Chicago is on October 17 and there are still tickets available. Register now and see what the hype is all about!

Culinary Fight Club!

I don't often get excited for blogging events anymore, but when an invite to the Culinary Fight Club at Navy Pier came my way, I could NOT resist. My eldest kid just so happens to be a foodie-wannabe-chef, so this Monday the two of us will be living it up at The Billy Goat Tavern, watching as 3 local chefs battle it out to see who can create the most amazing, perfect bite of food.

AND WE GET TO SAMPLE IT, TOO!

Honestly, I would have been happy enough with just the sampling of creative foods; but knowing that 20% of all Culinary Fight Club Chicago Event proceeds benefit feeding the hungry through the non-profit - Fight2Feed, well that just seals the deal on making this event a Must Not Miss for me. 

Interested? Tickets are still available! 


~ This is a sponsored post, but all opinions are my own.~

What do you do when your method of release (social media) isn't something you can release your emotions on anymore? What do you do when the bad stuff is just SO bad and SO MUCH and you are overwhelmed with sadness? I am at a loss here. There are too many things to worry about, and absolutely NOTHING I can do about any of them. I want to help my family but honestly, I can't.

I have no release right now and I need to find one again. Maybe make this blog totally private and write all of the things, all of the details, all of the specific shit that is falling from the sky all at once.

I wish certain people lived closer. I wish others hadn't left. I wish so many things.

Fuck. I don't want to handle this anymore.

Well Fuck.

I'm procrastinating like it is an Olympic sport today. I am a gold medalist in this event.

I don't want to see the fear in my dad's eyes and wonder if this chemo treatment today will actually make him feel as awful as the treatments he had 30 years ago. The medical staff insists it won't. They've repeated that his first chemo was one of the hardest and most brutal regimens, and that it isn't even CLOSE to what he will be receiving today...and he has zero belief that they are telling the truth. Honestly though, if I had a traumatic medical experience and then someone said "let's do a treatment with the same name, but it ISN'T the same, we promise"... I probably wouldn't believe them, either.

It's not natural to know that someone you love is going to die. I mean, we ALL KNOW that EVERYONE we love WILL DIE; it's the only guarantee in Life. But to know that a particular person will most likely pass before you do messes with your head.

I cannot describe exactly how this feels... it's a thousand moments of pain each day. Knowing I can do nothing substantial, aside from being there, being present, doing the daily things that need to be done... My sisters, Mom and I are all in the same boat. It is a sucky, holey boat, but it's the only one we have right now, and my dad needs us to keep paddling and bailing it until he says he's done...

FUUUCCCKKKK!!!!!!

I need to cry for a few minutes, wash my face, find something cheerful to wear, and pack a bag of books, snacks, and drinks for a long day at the hospital. I need someone to tell me it will be ok, even though that's impossible because the only way that would happen is if someone could save my daddy...

FUCK YOU CANCER.

It's Not Enough

I'm one of those "lucky" people who remember their dreams. I have vivid, in-depth, multi-chapter dreams which are sometimes so real, I wake up believing in whatever scene my mind concocted. It's not usually a great way to wake up; either I am petrified from the natural disaster that I obviously didn't go through or I am elated (and then destroyed) from holding a newborn baby that never actually existed. Both scenarios aren't super-awesome starts to a fantastic morning. Most of those dreams never actually "leave" me, either.

One particularly horrific nightmare takes place on the section of I-80 that crosses over an enormous quarry. It's so massively deep, you can't see the bottom, no matter how hard you stretch your neck as you're zooming over. In the dream, I spin out, and my van teeters on the edge, dangling but swaying in a way that I know means we are going over, and nothing I can do will save me or my children. The entire dream consists of me looking back into their eyes, reaching for their hands as we start to fall, and calming the panic that is trying to make me pass out. And I repeat, "I love you. I LOVE YOU. I love you..." I can feel the acceptance of the knowledge that this is how my children's last moments on Earth will be, and all I can do is try to make it peaceful...

~

Corinne has a tendency to ask me deep questions. Shit, all of my kids have that tendency. The main ones being "Why are we HERE?" and "What happens when we die?" These questions are usually asked at the most convenient times possible, i.e. in the van as we're pulling up to a sporting activity. 

My answer to the former is, as always, that we are here to love each other. End of story. We are not alive to build skyscrapers or create "masterpieces"; we do not exist to worship deities or "change the world." We exist simply to love. I know that when I die, I will hold this truth in my heart; I have loved many, I have loved fully, and I have been loved in return. What more can anyone ask? 

My answer to the latter is, as always, that nothing in the natural world ever ceases to exist. It just changes. Trees become logs that burn and become ash; it floats away with the wind, lands on the Earth, and becomes nutrients in the soil so that new trees may grow again. Boulders become sand, and glaciers melt into the oceans. Everything on Earth becomes something else, including energy. Why then would anyone think that the energy that fuels the human heart would ever cease to exist? Just because we cannot fully comprehend what it is exactly that happens when our hearts create their final beats, doesn't mean that the answer to the most existential question is "A Void of Nothingness."

~

Justin did some shopping for me at WalMart yesterday. He hopped back in the van and said that the one item he couldn't find were the molds for the popsicles I wanted to make at home. "I asked TWO workers, and no one could find them! They think they sold out because they were such a great price."

I told him it was ok. We could figure out a different way to craft the frozen yogurts I was going to make for my dad. Justin loves to cook, and was giving me ideas on different foods to test that are high in protein to help my father build back some of his weight. The idea of him trying to cope with the potential upcoming chemotherapy without even a bit of strength doesn't seem possible. I explained to Justin how important it was for me to do something, ANYthing, for my dad; "And I really just want him to be able to enjoy eating again. Everything tastes bad for him and he just can't palate it. He has to put on weight.... I just want to do something for him, and this is all I can do..." 

I am constantly amazed at how quickly I can go from "ok" to choked up and unable to breathe. Knowing that this tiny little thing I am able to "do" isn't going to make any real difference in my dad's terminal outcome feels like I am looking back at my children in my van dream again. All I can do is look at him and say "I love you. I LOVE YOU. I love you..." But it's not enough. 

Do This Parenting Thing. Trust Me.

I know that not all of my parenting choices are perfect, but there are a few decisions I've made that I can confirm are Fantastic. One of the best ideas I've ever had was to take each child on a special Mother-Child trip when they turned 10.

Why ten? 10 year olds are still "kids" and enjoy much of the innocence and wonder in the world of childhood. Not quite pre-teens with all of the hormones and angst that arises from the struggles of growing up, 10 year olds are kind of a perfect mix of little kid and big kid.

It's a sweet spot.

And so, I take them on trips. Nothing over the top like flying across the world, but somewhere relatively close, affordable, and unique to their interests. The other qualifying marker is that the trip must be somewhere where neither of us has ever gone before. :)

I took Justin to Mammoth Cave.

Evan and I went to St. Louis.

And tomorrow, Corinne and I will travel to West Virginia to zip line through the mountains, kayak in the morning quiet, raft in white water for a full day, hike and climb and spend quality time together where we can listen to our music, be silly and giggle, and simply enjoy our bond as Mother and Daughter.

If you know me even a little bit, you probably know that I am quite nostalgic and wistful concerning my kids and the speed at which they are moving through their childhoods. Whenever my youngest completes a milestone, it is all the more poignant knowing that this particular moment is the last of its kind for our family. This week will be the final Mother-Child-10-year-old-spectacular-vacation. Knowing just how distant the boys' special vacations already feel in my heart only cements my need to sigh wistfully and feel poetic about her dirty feet and swiftly growing limbs. 

To put it succinctly, I feel as though this is the final "sandcastle" on this particular beach...

Ready or not; Here comes the tide.

(2015 LTYM Chicago - "Sandcastles")

Stream of thought on raising teenagers...

I need good teenager stories. Not stories about good teenagers; in fact, keep those to yourself, please. I only want the stories from parents whose kids have grown up and past this phase I find myself drowning within.

I am not one to accept abusive relationships. If you treat me badly, we will part ways. This is the only time in my life that someone I LOVE is anything other than respectful towards me... And I can't leave.

Granted, I don't WANT to leave. I want to be here, in this house, with these people. I want to be living and laughing and struggling through life's crap with all of them. But I never expected that parenting through the teenage years would be more difficult than they were as an actual teen.

I don't know... this shit is rough. Rougher than anything I've really had to deal with before. The absolute astonishment I feel over some of the arguments we've had (over COMPLETE BULLSHIT) have floored me. If I had spoken to MY parents the way that E has spoken to me this past year? HAHAHAHAHA!!! He doesn't know how lucky he IS. And maybe THAT is the key? Do I take everything and everyone away from him? Seclude him from life and hope that his particular personality doesn't react in the opposite of our desired outcome? Some kids, when you punish them THAT way, turn to hatred, drugs, running away... I honestly DO NOT SEE THAT as a possibility for this particular kid, but it's there, in the back of my head. A little voice saying "Does ANY parent REALLY know what goes on inside their child's head?"

Nope. They never do. There would be a lot less tragedies in the world if parents could actually see into their teen's heads...

He's so deceptively difficult. He is the dream teen for everyone else; Helpful, kind, hilarious, etc. This indicates to me that he understands what is expected of him in society and life. It also means that he feels that I am worthy of less respect than the average person on the street.

That's some effed up shit right there.

If my friend or significant other treated me as less than an average person on the street, guess who wouldn't be in my life any longer? JUST GUESS.

My God, I wish he was 7 again. Not that he was a perfect angel, because he was NOT, but at 7, he hugged me voluntarily. At 7, he understood that I was in charge, even though I was willing to talk through situations. At 7, there are clear definitions to the mother/son relationship.

At 14, not so much.

People tend to mock the teen years. They laugh over how stressful they are, how crazy teen hormones are, yadda yadda. This honestly is no laughing matter. It's not fun. It's not rewarding to be on the receiving end of unwarranted anger, resentment, and disrespect on a regular basis. My own life has value that exists outside of being Mom, and DAMNIT I want it to be recognized!

Whatever. I have too much laundry and too many dishes and too many errands and too much school work to help with to spend on here, trying to figure out life. I am hoping and praying that this stream of thought is one of the last about this particular teenager. Maybe he's nearing the end of his hormone issues? Maybe he is ready to really accept responsibility for his actions and tone of voice? I just wish there was a real and true crystal ball that I could look into that will prove to me that he WILL TURN OUT OK and that we WILL have a good relationship as he becomes and adult. I just want my kids to be happy, to be loved, to feel their value. And I just want the same for myself.

Remembering Grandma...

Driving in the car with the windows open, sun (finally) shining on my face, I can't help but reflect. My mind wanders. Memories surge.

My grandmother passed away when I was 8 years old. My mom was only...God. My age? Younger. She was younger than I am when she lost her own mom. That's baffling to me...

I have a few real memories of my grandma. Strong ones, like sitting behind her, brushing her hair, even though she would pay to have it set at the salons. (Or did she do her own, but do it so well that I couldn't tell?) Either way, she let me and my sisters brush and comb and put in "fancy barrettes" without much fuss. How generous a heart she had. How kind...

We (my younger sister and I) used to "sneak" her romance novels and move her bookmark to a different chapter. We'd then ask her if she wanted to read for a while, giggling behind our hands. She would always gasp "in surprise" when she'd realize that "someone" had moved her bookmark... It wasn't until much later that I actually understood how sweet she was about our little pranks. She adored us and didn't care if she had to reread a chapter more than once.

I can distinctly remember sitting on her bed in the mobile home she and my grandfather lived in. She collected beads and sequins in a large bin and would let us sort through them to our hearts' content. There are still a few Christmas ornaments on my own tree that were constructed by her crafty hands made up of stick pins, sequins, and beads all arranged in a truly perfect order around styrofoam balls. I don't know how she did that; I tried once, to recreate her designs... It's not as easy as it looked. The patience and artistic talent she must have had makes me smile whenever I see them reflecting the lights on our branches.

She cooked the best spaghetti with... rabbit meat. Seriously, if you've never had it, I cannot describe it. I probably only had it a few times in my young life, but the memory of that smell and taste is one that has stuck. I've tried to cook it with chicken instead; the sweetness of not only the meat, but also her hand, is lacking and the sauce does not compare.

There was an assortment of magnets on her refrigerator that were somehow exotic to our little minds. It was truly FUN to spend our afternoons arranging the dimestore flowers, vegetables, and random doo dads into scenes that would then hold up our drawings. The magnets always seemed to just "be there" but I wonder, did she scour the flea markets in her free time, picking up new ones here and there so that we would be surprised on our next visits?

My God, I was only 8... Younger than Corinne is now. I try to not focus on the memories of her final months, but she was so sick, so fast and I was so little. It was scary, despite my parents' efforts to shield us from her disease. When they removed her larynx in an attempt to get rid of the cancer, she couldn't talk anymore, but she still found a way to write out how much she loved us... As a kid, that paper didn't impact me as much as it does now. What kind of effort must that have involved to hold the pencil to the paper and shakily write for 3 little girls?

Driving today, it hit me again how much I owe to all of the women before me. My mother, her mother, and all of the mothers before them... The women who have held their babies and loved each generation, raising them in one continuous line until it reached me...and extends beyond me. I cannot feel alone or disconnected when I count the mothers before me. The mothers who will come after me. the babies who become women who become mothers, all because of the love and hope of those who surrounded them.

Springtime never fails to remind me of renewal. No matter how empty a field, how barren a tree, or how gray a sky, the spring always comes.

Hold 'em or Fold 'em?

My God, it's hard to parent teenagers. For the obvious reasons, it's an emotional journey, but as a nearly former blogger (crickets over here), I am missing the tie that got me through a lot of their younger years: community and camaraderie. The "Been There, Done That" aspect of young motherhood is nearly absent in the teen years of motherhood. Out of respect for my kids and their own need to tell their own stories (or not), I keep quiet. At least 96% of the time, anyway. I find that parenting in this kind of cocoon of silence is the quiet straw that broke this camel's back.

Why was I crying in my car at 9:00 pm all alone? Can't tell you. It's not my story. Except that I'm IN this damn story and the other side of it will most likely become fodder for "Remember when Mom..." lead-in's. 20 years from now, I won't be able to pull this up and say "THIS IS WHY I DID THAT. You were no angel, kid. Just you wait till your own precious babies become teens. Then we'll talk."

Ugh. I hated hearing that when my kids were little. I wanted advice! Show me how to ford through these murky waters! Don't send me out into the seas of teenagers with only one paddle and a slow leak! Teach me how to sail!!

Even now, I struggle to find the words to write that can adequately express how thin and tender my skin is right now; to do so might crush one of my kids' hearts or trust. I CAN'T DO THAT.

But this sucks.

It sucks worse than potty training.

It sucks worse than a high-needs child throwing the 14th tantrum that day in a public setting.

It sucks monkey balls.

AND I CAN'T WRITE ABOUT IT.

This stage scares the shit out of me, and even though I think we're making good choices with a particular teen, there isn't any guarantee that he'll "make it out ok." A lot of teens DON'T make it out ok. A lot of kids who are well-loved and come from "good" families end up...elsewhere.

This is like going to Vegas (I assume; I don't like gambling.) and putting all of your money on one reasonably strong hand of cards. You are fairly certain that this will work...you think... Well, maybe? I mean, what if I have misread the cards already thrown? What if I haven't judged the other players in this game adequately? IS SOMEONE BLUFFING?

Holy hell, I don't want to gamble with my kid's life.

Ramble

I am quite envious of those people who claim that older children are "easier" than babies and toddlers as they either have some pretty easy teenagers with easy-breezy issues or they're big, fat, lying mc-liarpants. Either way, it doesn't seem to be the case with me and my own teens and I am quite tired of this emotional stress and tears in the bathroom but there isn't any TIME for tears right now because I have to drive someone to an activity. All I wanted was some respect for maintaining this house as it falls apart around us all and all I got was an argument that brought me to my knees behind a bathroom door. 

And there isn't TIME to truly communicate with my eldest teen that, even though I am PROUD of his hopes to join the military, I am PETRIFIED of what the potential loss his joining could mean to our family. How do you get through that conversation without crying? Every time? How? There isn't time because it's ticking away and they're growing up and away from me and I am not equipped to handle all of these changes at once but Life doesn't seem to notice or care. 

Tick tick tick and the decisions must be made and I honestly feel like I can go from a mountain top of contentment to a valley of despair in less than 3 seconds. No one is prepared to handle the emotional trauma that parenting teenagers can bring. Just like you can never fully describe childbirth, or what it is like to brave through the first year of parenthood, I cannot do justice to what it feels like to mother these 3 kids at 17, 13, and 10. Please give me a tantruming toddler to hold onto in a corner for 3 hours after a week of not showering. Please give me a collicky infant and sleep deprivation.