I can't help but feel optimistic about this new year. I have always liked the number 14; it has a nice ring to it. Not that 2013 brought us any particular hardship. Reflecting back on the year, I would say there have been many joyous moments and triumphs along with the sorrows of loss and the frustrations of defeat. Maybe it just felt like a year that has the number 13 in it just didn't seem all that lucky. I was ready to say good-bye and move on to a shiny new year filled with possibilities.
True to the advertisements that bombard us with subliminal and not so subliminal messages of organization, I have began the process of tidying up around my chaotic home and my chaotic mind. This process is usually greeted by resistance and rolling eyes in my family. Ava has joined their team this year, adding "oh brother" when I get on my "I will throw it away if you do not pick your toys up this minute! How many times do I have to tell you to clean up?!" Yes, I realize how much I sound like a mother. I realize it the moment the words form in my head, flying out of my mouth without any capacity to hold them back. This is also around the time that Rick starts saying, "Yes dear, whatever you want dear." I get the sarcasm, but I like to pretend he actually means it, and it really does make me happy to hear these words. I won't pretend I don't have issues. So my motto of the month, because it is so retro and awesome, is "Cleanliness is next to godliness and tidiness is next to impossible." Anyone else remember this in the 80's? I think my mother had a magnet or maybe it was sign in the kitchen? Anyway, it seems appropriate while in the throes of project: organization.
2014 has already brought some big developments around here. Ava is potty trained. An accomplishment that was completed in all of 3 days! It feels good for both of us to get rid of all that bulk, and I've already got my mind working on what can take over the spot where the changing table and diaper bin have taken up real estate for the last 5 or so years. And because I clearly have the maternal need still brewing inside me, we are entertaining the idea of adding a new dog to our family. Both kids have been asking for a puppy. Rick has wanted one since Ruger died. I am warming up to it now that I don't have to change diapers. We shall see how it all unfolds. A year of possibilities. Happy 2014!
Monday, January 13, 2014
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Gobble gobble
A happy Thanksgiving to all that are directly and indirectly a part of my life. Each year I am increasingly thankful for what we have and for those that offer such amazing support and love. And now a story about the turkeys that tried to ruin Thanksgiving...
We live in an area that wild turkey roam. We joke each year about making one a part of our feast. These groups can be as large as 25 hens with their toms and juniors in full strut twice daily making their way across our yard. It's quite a scene. Sometimes they get startled or thrown off track and flown into a panic, clumsily flapping into the nearest tree, rooftop, or fence. At 9:30 am, as I was just about to pop our 23 pound turkey into the oven, the power went out. For over an hour, we had the turkey on standby in the BBQ, crossing our fingers that our alternative cooking solution wouldn't last the entire process. Just after 10:30, I breathed a sigh of relief that our power returned. At 2:00, as family and friends started to arrive, one of our friends noted a huge gaggle of turkeys making their way up the road. "They got spooked and a few flew right into the power lines!" He exclaimed. Rick responds with, "we'll they aren't the smartest creatures." Fast forward to today when on the phone with my girlfriend that lives a few miles away, also hosting Thanksgiving that day. "Did your power go out?" I inquired. "Yes. And boy do I have a funny story about that..." She proceeds to tell me that as her husband was returning from getting their turkey, he witnessed a separate flock fly into some power lines, sparks flying. A few seconds later, no power. So he calls the electric company and proceeds to tell him he knows the location on the power failure and why, explaining that it's is really not a prank call. So I wonder, are those creatures really as dumb as we think? Maybe they had a plan on this day.
By the way, our turkey actually came out quite perfect, despite the initial change of course! Thankfully.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Transitional three
I am sitting outside of Ava's new class, trying to focus on something other than the sound of her intermittent crying bridged by whimpering. She started a new program, basically structured as a preschool with focus on speech and occupational therapy. This program doesn't allow parents to participate, which makes for a very unhappy girl. She tries to hold it together, likes the idea of going to school, but as we enter the double doors, she immediately starts to fall apart. I try to hold it together, say all the right things, but once she goes into class and the door shuts, I am exhausted. If she is like I was (she is) this could go on for awhile. We both want her old school structure back, but life is one transition to the next and that is that.
We are transitioning to 3. Even though it was Ava's birthday 2 weeks ago, she still tells you she is two and a half. I still feel like she is two and a half. I wonder if I will ever adjust to the fact that she really was born in October. Couldn't we pretend she wasn't a micro premie, that she was born in January? Couldn't we save October for sorrow and loss? I suppose one day, one year it will start to feel right. Will it?
We had our traditional balloon remembrance on the girls birthday. We added one more this year because my grandpa Jack passed away that very day.
What is also becoming a tradition is that Ava tends to get a severe cold around her birthday, and plans were again put in a holding pattern for her birthday celebration. Too many coincidences to not take notice. But we had a nice small celebration for Ava, more her style anyway. She's not a big fan of being around a lot of people, loud music, a lot of distractions. And that's OK, because it just doesn't seem fitting anyway.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance
I thought I would share a few inspirational quotes that I often refer back to again and again:
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Can you believe that 1:4 women suffer a miscarriage, stillbirth or infant loss? Today is October 15, a day to remember those that have lost hopes never to be fulfilled and dreams never to come true. I am taking part in a memorial tonight, where I plan on sharing some of my perspective, and to light a candle for our angels.
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made
it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the
storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm,
you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all
about.”
― Haruki MurakamiCan you believe that 1:4 women suffer a miscarriage, stillbirth or infant loss? Today is October 15, a day to remember those that have lost hopes never to be fulfilled and dreams never to come true. I am taking part in a memorial tonight, where I plan on sharing some of my perspective, and to light a candle for our angels.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
The men in my life
The other day I watched in fear as Rick let first Ava and then Sophia drive in his tractor with him. He let each one have a turn pushing buttons, raise and lower the attachments, back up and turn in circles. He drove with one down from the trailer and the other back onto the trailer. The mom in me cringed at all that could go wrong, but the little girl in me was so proud that their father was doing some cool things that will undoubtedly be imprinted in their minds forever. There are many of these moments I have been able to watch from a distance, biting my tongue or sneaking around the corner out of sight so that the girls will have these special memories of when they did something cool with daddy.
Rick and I have traded stories in the past of when he worked side by side with his dad every day, when he got up before dawn to go hunting or early mass and then breakfast with his dad. My memories were not with my father though, they were with my grandpa Jack. There are fathers and there are father figures, and while I was lucky to have my father in my life growing up, there are many things I have yet to make amends with. My father passed away almost 15 years ago, and we had a difficult relationship. My grandpa Jack, on the other hand, was easy to be around. I was happy just being in his presence when I was little. He took the time to teach me how to play Backgammon, he would let me take the wheel on his old Ford truck, and play on his CB in his RV on camping trips. He taught me how to drive a boat, the process of making honey, and where to find the best biscuits and gravy. He loaned me money to buy my first car, and rescued me when I got lost driving to his house on my own for the first time.(I am seriously hazardous when it come to directions.) While my grandma was working, we would walk to visit his neighbors, get butter brickle ice cream, tinker in his wood shop, and make dinner. He was a flirt with the ladies, a dirty old man, and he tells the tallest tales you have ever heard. He was happiest touring around with his family and friends in his boat or RV. He loved going on fishing trips with the boys, camping by the water, and making huge breakfasts with fried eggs and bacon, and lots of butter on his toast. He's a strong headed, stubborn German. He was a man's man and it is ironic that with all his testosterone they would have 3 daughters. We joke about the Jack curse that all his grandchildren gave birth to girls, no great-grandsons (yet) because of his machismo.
My grandpa is ready to end this chapter of his life and be with my grandma in heaven. I don't think she's ready to put up with him yet, because he's still with us withering away in a waste of a body. It's heartbreaking and frustrating to watch such a big burly man end up this way. But that is life and sometimes life just sucks, it doesn't make sense, and you just need to be thankful for the things you do have. I guess this is probably in bad taste to write something of a eulogy before my grandpa has died, but I want him to know how many imprints he has made on my life. How there are too many stories to tell. How when I made a bad decision, it was him I was afraid to disappoint. That my husband reminds me a lot of him, and that's not just a coincidence. I have been mourning the loss of my grandpa Jack from the moment I found out his health was failing him. I wish we lived as close as we did when I was growing up, but distance doesn't allow me to visit him as much as I would like to. He just celebrated his last birthday the other day. I really hope his wish comes true soon, because as hard as it will be to feel his absence, this is no life for him.
Rick and I have traded stories in the past of when he worked side by side with his dad every day, when he got up before dawn to go hunting or early mass and then breakfast with his dad. My memories were not with my father though, they were with my grandpa Jack. There are fathers and there are father figures, and while I was lucky to have my father in my life growing up, there are many things I have yet to make amends with. My father passed away almost 15 years ago, and we had a difficult relationship. My grandpa Jack, on the other hand, was easy to be around. I was happy just being in his presence when I was little. He took the time to teach me how to play Backgammon, he would let me take the wheel on his old Ford truck, and play on his CB in his RV on camping trips. He taught me how to drive a boat, the process of making honey, and where to find the best biscuits and gravy. He loaned me money to buy my first car, and rescued me when I got lost driving to his house on my own for the first time.(I am seriously hazardous when it come to directions.) While my grandma was working, we would walk to visit his neighbors, get butter brickle ice cream, tinker in his wood shop, and make dinner. He was a flirt with the ladies, a dirty old man, and he tells the tallest tales you have ever heard. He was happiest touring around with his family and friends in his boat or RV. He loved going on fishing trips with the boys, camping by the water, and making huge breakfasts with fried eggs and bacon, and lots of butter on his toast. He's a strong headed, stubborn German. He was a man's man and it is ironic that with all his testosterone they would have 3 daughters. We joke about the Jack curse that all his grandchildren gave birth to girls, no great-grandsons (yet) because of his machismo.
My grandpa is ready to end this chapter of his life and be with my grandma in heaven. I don't think she's ready to put up with him yet, because he's still with us withering away in a waste of a body. It's heartbreaking and frustrating to watch such a big burly man end up this way. But that is life and sometimes life just sucks, it doesn't make sense, and you just need to be thankful for the things you do have. I guess this is probably in bad taste to write something of a eulogy before my grandpa has died, but I want him to know how many imprints he has made on my life. How there are too many stories to tell. How when I made a bad decision, it was him I was afraid to disappoint. That my husband reminds me a lot of him, and that's not just a coincidence. I have been mourning the loss of my grandpa Jack from the moment I found out his health was failing him. I wish we lived as close as we did when I was growing up, but distance doesn't allow me to visit him as much as I would like to. He just celebrated his last birthday the other day. I really hope his wish comes true soon, because as hard as it will be to feel his absence, this is no life for him.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Funny things the girls are saying...
Remember the "Sophia says..." posts? Well there's a little competition for the spot now that Ava is coming up with her own funny things. Big relief there, for sure. And now on to the entertainment...
Sophia overheard someone (I won't reveal that someone) saying that so-and-so was a bullshitter. I immediately nudged that someone and told that person to watch their mouth in front of the girls. I can only imagine what the "school" would say if little Miss Sophia brings that phrase out during session. Sophia's reaction? "Ha!! That's funny! What a Bowl of Sugar!" And I laughed just as much in relief as in how brilliant that saying will be from now on. I can't wait to call someone a Bowl of Sugar.
It's not a secret that we watch a fair amount of TV in this family. I admit to having it on as background noise on many occasions. If you've seen the Old McDonald spelling contest commercial, you'll get what I'm talking about here. He can't spell a word without putting "eieio" at the end of his words, and walks off the stage saying "Dag numbit!" Ava thinks that's hysterical and now has adopted the phrase "Awww nuggets!" when she gets something wrong.
Sophia got reprimanded at school the other day for saying "Oh my gosh." See what I mean if she went there saying bull shitter? So we came up with a list of things she could say in place of that phrase. Ava piped in with "Oh coconuts" as her contribution. SpongeBob quotes were heavy hitters on the list with "Oh barnacles" and "Oh tarter sauce" being the most popular.
Sophia overheard someone (I won't reveal that someone) saying that so-and-so was a bullshitter. I immediately nudged that someone and told that person to watch their mouth in front of the girls. I can only imagine what the "school" would say if little Miss Sophia brings that phrase out during session. Sophia's reaction? "Ha!! That's funny! What a Bowl of Sugar!" And I laughed just as much in relief as in how brilliant that saying will be from now on. I can't wait to call someone a Bowl of Sugar.
It's not a secret that we watch a fair amount of TV in this family. I admit to having it on as background noise on many occasions. If you've seen the Old McDonald spelling contest commercial, you'll get what I'm talking about here. He can't spell a word without putting "eieio" at the end of his words, and walks off the stage saying "Dag numbit!" Ava thinks that's hysterical and now has adopted the phrase "Awww nuggets!" when she gets something wrong.
Sophia got reprimanded at school the other day for saying "Oh my gosh." See what I mean if she went there saying bull shitter? So we came up with a list of things she could say in place of that phrase. Ava piped in with "Oh coconuts" as her contribution. SpongeBob quotes were heavy hitters on the list with "Oh barnacles" and "Oh tarter sauce" being the most popular.
 |
| the little comedians |
Monday, September 23, 2013
My love/hate relationship with autumn
The other night I could smell fall coming in. The cool crisp air with a hint of smoke and wet earth was welcoming and painful. I have always loved this time of year. This is usually the time we have the mildest weather and the warmest days. I love Halloween and Thanksgiving. I look forward to layering long sleeves on top of tank tops, trading in my flip flops for boots. So it's ironic that most of my miscarriages and the loss of Julia would also happen during this season. I've come to accept that I am going to be more pensive during this time of year. I have also increased my realization in the importance of counting my blessings and being thankful for what we do have.
Ava had her annual NICU reunion party at the hospital this last weekend. It was the first year that she was aware of the reason for the party. Sophia started the conversation the night before, and Ava wanted to know what she looked like when she was born. Rick asked me to get some pictures to show her. Seemed like a simple enough request, but the weight of it all hit me hard. Which pictures do I show her? Why hadn't I made her a book like I had when Sophia was born? Why, almost three years later, can't I figure out the right things to do or say? Sophia followed me into our bedroom where I still have Ava and Julia's birth pictures in a memory box on top of my dresser. I quickly plucked out a few for them to look at, while trying to suppress the other feelings brewing up over Julia. We looked at Ava's pictures as a family, Rick explaining all the tubes and lines and wires that encircled Ava in the pictures. We tried to explain why Ava had to stay so long, and how tiny she was when she was born. We tried to explain the difference in her birth and Sophia's birth. And at that point I realized that this process was going to always be evolving. The story will be crafted according to how old the kids are and what they can process. One day I will have those answers I am looking for and it will just come to me instead of struggling for the words.
Ava had her annual NICU reunion party at the hospital this last weekend. It was the first year that she was aware of the reason for the party. Sophia started the conversation the night before, and Ava wanted to know what she looked like when she was born. Rick asked me to get some pictures to show her. Seemed like a simple enough request, but the weight of it all hit me hard. Which pictures do I show her? Why hadn't I made her a book like I had when Sophia was born? Why, almost three years later, can't I figure out the right things to do or say? Sophia followed me into our bedroom where I still have Ava and Julia's birth pictures in a memory box on top of my dresser. I quickly plucked out a few for them to look at, while trying to suppress the other feelings brewing up over Julia. We looked at Ava's pictures as a family, Rick explaining all the tubes and lines and wires that encircled Ava in the pictures. We tried to explain why Ava had to stay so long, and how tiny she was when she was born. We tried to explain the difference in her birth and Sophia's birth. And at that point I realized that this process was going to always be evolving. The story will be crafted according to how old the kids are and what they can process. One day I will have those answers I am looking for and it will just come to me instead of struggling for the words.
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