I've missed a day here and there, but I've been posting most days. For that, I thank NaBloPoMo, as the ritual of near-daily writing has helped me to rediscover my groove and start rethinking life events and how they become posts.
Maddie, Riley, and I had such a nice evening tonight, dinner with friends of mine from college and their two kids who bookend the twins in age. Maddie took a total shine to my friends' daughter, who is six and thus a revered Big Girl. She was totally sweet and patient with Maddie, which was lovely. My friends' house is warm and welcoming and totally kid-centric, which put M&R at immediate ease and thus allowed me to get some real talking in around the playing. When we got home, M&R wanted to do stories and milk in my bed, "like we used to do all night in Boston." Where all = every, then yes, exactly.
*********************
Things are moving forward with the condo sale. I'm not going to believe that it's real until I have the check in my hand, but from the looks of things, it's a matter of about three weeks before I'm no longer a homeowner. I can't wait. I've already spent my increased cash flow about 1,001 different ways, most of them worthy and some of them frivolous, but no matter how the money gets spent, it's going to be lovely to have the freedom to not stress out over every dime and not dip into savings every month to cover expenses on two households.
I don't like to shop and I'm generally pretty frugal, but I also don't like to be constantly stressed out about money. Who does? It's awful. This Thanksgiving, I'll certainly be feeling grateful that I'm free from that worry, a weight that is crushing so many people these days.
19 November 2009
16 November 2009
Kind of Freaking Out
My mom has had a cough for about a month now. Nothing serious, but not connected to any illness. Just a dry cough, relatively infrequent, not getting better, not getting worse. It doesn't prevent her from doing anything she likes to do in life. It's just kind of annoying.
My stepdad has been asking her to go to the doctor and have it checked out. We're not really doctor-goers, my mom and I. She was married to a doc and I'm the child of one, and in general the family members of doctors don't go see their physician unless they are bleeding out or have a compound fracture, and even then they skip their family doctor and just go to the ER. But last night, when my stepdad mentioned to me how long my mom has been coughing and how he wishes she'd go to the doctor, something clicked for me. "Mom," I said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR. Sometimes people who have a random cough like this have lung cancer, and I need you to prove to me that you're not one of those people."
She e-mailed me today to say that she had an appointment for next week, which makes me happy. Not a moment too soon, I say. And I was calm, and hopeful that it will be nothing, a wasted visit, an unnecessary copay, and then we can all rest easy for Thanksgiving and the arrival of my stepbrother's new baby and my mom's birthday and all the rest of the holiday fun that lies ahead.
Then I read this.
And now I'm kinda freaking out on a lot of levels. I've read Melissa's blog for a while now, so I'm freaking out for her, hoping that it's nothing but feeling an awful twinge of the familiar. And I'm freaking out for my mom, because wow, well that cough could actually be something. And I'm freaking out for me because since John's death, I've been acutely aware of the fact that my parents are ageing, and that I don't know how I could live without any of them. They are all healthy and vibrant and unbearably important to me. They aren't allowed to get old, and they are most certainly not allowed to get sick. And no one else close to me, certainly not the person closest to me after my husband and my children, is allowed to have cancer.
It cannot be so, not for Melissa, not for my mom. Mom, prove to me next week that it's not so. And thank you for going to the doctor.
My stepdad has been asking her to go to the doctor and have it checked out. We're not really doctor-goers, my mom and I. She was married to a doc and I'm the child of one, and in general the family members of doctors don't go see their physician unless they are bleeding out or have a compound fracture, and even then they skip their family doctor and just go to the ER. But last night, when my stepdad mentioned to me how long my mom has been coughing and how he wishes she'd go to the doctor, something clicked for me. "Mom," I said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR. Sometimes people who have a random cough like this have lung cancer, and I need you to prove to me that you're not one of those people."
She e-mailed me today to say that she had an appointment for next week, which makes me happy. Not a moment too soon, I say. And I was calm, and hopeful that it will be nothing, a wasted visit, an unnecessary copay, and then we can all rest easy for Thanksgiving and the arrival of my stepbrother's new baby and my mom's birthday and all the rest of the holiday fun that lies ahead.
Then I read this.
And now I'm kinda freaking out on a lot of levels. I've read Melissa's blog for a while now, so I'm freaking out for her, hoping that it's nothing but feeling an awful twinge of the familiar. And I'm freaking out for my mom, because wow, well that cough could actually be something. And I'm freaking out for me because since John's death, I've been acutely aware of the fact that my parents are ageing, and that I don't know how I could live without any of them. They are all healthy and vibrant and unbearably important to me. They aren't allowed to get old, and they are most certainly not allowed to get sick. And no one else close to me, certainly not the person closest to me after my husband and my children, is allowed to have cancer.
It cannot be so, not for Melissa, not for my mom. Mom, prove to me next week that it's not so. And thank you for going to the doctor.
15 November 2009
Dreaming
Another widow blogger posted the other day about how she has dreamed about her husband every night for two weeks running. The dreams have brought her peace and restful sleep, although they have also brought her a raw sense of loss upon waking.
I commented on her post that I have not dreamed about John since his death. In fact, I don't think I've ever dreamed about John period. I tend not to dream of people I know well; instead, my dreams center around acquaintances who intrigue me, people I'd like to know better. More than once I've woken up from a dream and realized that I have a crush on someone. Many people who are grieving say that seeing lost loved ones healthy and vibrant in their dreams brings them a sense of calm and happiness. I've envied that, but only in an abstract way since I never expected to see John in the wanderings of my sleeping mind.
As you can now guess, that all changed last night. I had a vivid dream about John, and he was healthy and vibrant, but, oddly, we were attending his funeral together. We were graveside, next to each other, a crowd of people there with us. It was as though we were rehearsing for the service, but everyone was dressed for the real thing, and there was an officiant there. The officiant was an old friend of mine, someone I've reconnected with here in Portland (Hi, Liz! Do you even read my blog?), and she's not a clergy member. The box with John's ashes was in the ground and we were throwing dirt on it, and Liz was giving some kind of speech/sermon/I don't know what, and at the end she said, "Amen," then turned to John and said, "Is 'Amen' okay, or do you prefer a different closing?" He instructed her to use a word I'd never heard before and can't remember; when she looked puzzled, he told her that it meant "my one true love."
Very odd, all of it.
I can't say that dreaming about John made me feel any one way or another. Seeing him in a dream was for me like seeing him in a picture. I find it harder and harder to conjure the real emotion around what it felt like to have him around. I know that I miss him. Of that there is no question. But the specifics of his presence are lost on me. My life is so different now than it was when he was alive that I can't just slot him back in, and in a way, that makes his absence less acute. I can only imagine what it would be like to have him here, but I have no hard evidence to back it up.
I commented on her post that I have not dreamed about John since his death. In fact, I don't think I've ever dreamed about John period. I tend not to dream of people I know well; instead, my dreams center around acquaintances who intrigue me, people I'd like to know better. More than once I've woken up from a dream and realized that I have a crush on someone. Many people who are grieving say that seeing lost loved ones healthy and vibrant in their dreams brings them a sense of calm and happiness. I've envied that, but only in an abstract way since I never expected to see John in the wanderings of my sleeping mind.
As you can now guess, that all changed last night. I had a vivid dream about John, and he was healthy and vibrant, but, oddly, we were attending his funeral together. We were graveside, next to each other, a crowd of people there with us. It was as though we were rehearsing for the service, but everyone was dressed for the real thing, and there was an officiant there. The officiant was an old friend of mine, someone I've reconnected with here in Portland (Hi, Liz! Do you even read my blog?), and she's not a clergy member. The box with John's ashes was in the ground and we were throwing dirt on it, and Liz was giving some kind of speech/sermon/I don't know what, and at the end she said, "Amen," then turned to John and said, "Is 'Amen' okay, or do you prefer a different closing?" He instructed her to use a word I'd never heard before and can't remember; when she looked puzzled, he told her that it meant "my one true love."
Very odd, all of it.
I can't say that dreaming about John made me feel any one way or another. Seeing him in a dream was for me like seeing him in a picture. I find it harder and harder to conjure the real emotion around what it felt like to have him around. I know that I miss him. Of that there is no question. But the specifics of his presence are lost on me. My life is so different now than it was when he was alive that I can't just slot him back in, and in a way, that makes his absence less acute. I can only imagine what it would be like to have him here, but I have no hard evidence to back it up.
14 November 2009
The Highs Are High, The Lows Are Low
Highs
Lows
UPDATE: Just broke one of the dinner plates from my wedding china while doing the dishes! Add that to the lows. Boo. Off to bed now.
- Dinner with friends, continued joy with reconnecting, gratitude at friendships that withstand time and distance
- Sleeping in, lazing around, enjoying a quiet morning to myself before Maddie and Riley came home from Moo and Otro Ba's
Lows
- Annoying, frustrating, disappointing, potentially insurmountable news about the condo buyer's demands post-inspection; looks like the sale will go through, but not before I feel nickel and dimed, dried out, used, spit on, and kicked
- The whining. Oh, the whining! Even when they are saying something nice, they whine! I pretend not to understand whining, and then they sob and cry, and I ignore them and it goes on for an hour and our morning is ruined (Riley), repeat for a ruined afternoon (Maddie)
- THE WHINING IS KILLING ME
- Still feeling less than 100% healthy
- The fact that Oregon does not sell my go-to cold medicine because so many losers were using it to make meth. I might have to take a trip over the border to Washington to stock up.
UPDATE: Just broke one of the dinner plates from my wedding china while doing the dishes! Add that to the lows. Boo. Off to bed now.
Reason #27,838 That Living Near Family Is Great
When you are a sick, dizzy, feverish mess, your parents will keep your kids overnight so that you can go to bed at 6:30 p.m. and sleep until 7:30 a.m.
CURED.
CURED.
12 November 2009
Bleargh
Kids were better today, but I came home sick from work. Of course, did I relax and rest when I got home? No! I ran around with Maddie and Riley! Still, it was nice to be home and not giving my computer at work an addled, blank stare.
Unrelated to illness, although perhaps no less dull, is that I've been doing Weight Watchers again for a week and a half now. I'm not going to meetings or even doing the online version, so by "doing Weight Watchers" I simply mean that I'm diligently counting points and writing down everything that goes into my mouth. The good news? It's totally working. I lost two pounds my first week, and I've been eating more healthfully than I have in months, perhaps years. This program really works for me, and once I get through the first week of "Holy shit, you're kidding me, right? That's a serving of rice?" I get back in the groove and feel better, lose the weight, etc.
But tonight I totally had a fall-off-the-wagon moment. I've been dealing with sick kids and sick me off and on for almost a week now, and it's starting to get to me. So when my best friend told me that the salted brown butter crispy treats over at smitten kitchen were as good—no, better—than I even thought they sounded, I could not resist. I love Rice Krispy treats to begin with, and what Deb over at the SK says is true: just the simple step of five extra minutes to brown the butter along with the addition of some salt is the difference between nostalgic yum and true magic. Make them. Or don't, if, perhaps, you don't want to eat an entire stick of butter, six cups of Rice Krispies, and 10 oz. of marshmallows all by yourself.
Kids are in bed, I'm headed that way myself. We're all on the mend, I think. What better medicine than butter and sugar, right?
Unrelated to illness, although perhaps no less dull, is that I've been doing Weight Watchers again for a week and a half now. I'm not going to meetings or even doing the online version, so by "doing Weight Watchers" I simply mean that I'm diligently counting points and writing down everything that goes into my mouth. The good news? It's totally working. I lost two pounds my first week, and I've been eating more healthfully than I have in months, perhaps years. This program really works for me, and once I get through the first week of "Holy shit, you're kidding me, right? That's a serving of rice?" I get back in the groove and feel better, lose the weight, etc.
But tonight I totally had a fall-off-the-wagon moment. I've been dealing with sick kids and sick me off and on for almost a week now, and it's starting to get to me. So when my best friend told me that the salted brown butter crispy treats over at smitten kitchen were as good—no, better—than I even thought they sounded, I could not resist. I love Rice Krispy treats to begin with, and what Deb over at the SK says is true: just the simple step of five extra minutes to brown the butter along with the addition of some salt is the difference between nostalgic yum and true magic. Make them. Or don't, if, perhaps, you don't want to eat an entire stick of butter, six cups of Rice Krispies, and 10 oz. of marshmallows all by yourself.
Kids are in bed, I'm headed that way myself. We're all on the mend, I think. What better medicine than butter and sugar, right?
11 November 2009
Us and the rest of the world
Yeah, still sick. More sick. Seems like everyone is these days. Riley is pretty much fine, just dealing with a lingering cough and stuffy nose. Maddie is a mess: feverish even when medicated, runny nose and eyes, listless and with no appetite. I'm hanging on by a thread; I think I'm mostly just really tired.
Sick mode at our house involves lots of TV, books, and juice. The TV and the juice are pretty special treats, the books a part of the standard repertoire that don't require more energy than any one of us has. Sick mode also features eat-on-demand: if it sounds good to you and we have it in the house, you can eat it. Structured mealtimes are pretty much a no-go, and I try to offer a lot of fresh fruit, dry cereal, and other simple yet relatively nutritious things. Neither Maddie nor Riley is going to waste away over the course of a week's illness, so I figure anything that might help them feel better is worth serving.
I'm not planning to take anyone to the doctor for now. I don't want to get exposed to 1,001 things we don't have while the immune systems are down, and, for now, ibuprofen and Benedryl seem to be helping out enough for us all to get some rest.
Time to snuggle with the kids and watch Dora. Too bad they're too young for 30 Rock.
Sick mode at our house involves lots of TV, books, and juice. The TV and the juice are pretty special treats, the books a part of the standard repertoire that don't require more energy than any one of us has. Sick mode also features eat-on-demand: if it sounds good to you and we have it in the house, you can eat it. Structured mealtimes are pretty much a no-go, and I try to offer a lot of fresh fruit, dry cereal, and other simple yet relatively nutritious things. Neither Maddie nor Riley is going to waste away over the course of a week's illness, so I figure anything that might help them feel better is worth serving.
I'm not planning to take anyone to the doctor for now. I don't want to get exposed to 1,001 things we don't have while the immune systems are down, and, for now, ibuprofen and Benedryl seem to be helping out enough for us all to get some rest.
Time to snuggle with the kids and watch Dora. Too bad they're too young for 30 Rock.
10 November 2009
sniffle, snuffle, cough
Maddie and Riley are sick. I'm amazed they have remained healthy until now, given that they are immersed daily into the petri dish of preschool, and a new preschool at that. I think Maddie and Riley might actually be the only kids at their school who have yet to miss a day due to illness this year. As it would happen, tomorrow is a school holiday, so they might continue their streak, if only on a technicality.
They are luckily not seriously ill (knock on wood). Riley's cough and bit of a fever over the weekend are now just a lingering cough and congestion with no more heat. Maddie seems to be a few days behind and was feverish when I got home from work today. Between being under the weather and not having napped well, both kids were really tired, so we had a very mellow evening of a picnic dinner in the living room, two Doras (Two! I'm so crazy!), stories, and bed. They've been in bed for about five minutes and I think they're both asleep, which is unusal for them; they usually chat for a good half hour before dozing off.
Like most (all?) parents, I feel so awful for Maddie and Riley when they are ill. They are at least now old enough for me to comisserate verbally and explain that they will feel better "soon," whatever that means to the toddler's tenuous grasp of time. But I confess that I, like most (again, all?) parents, there is something so rewarding and sweet about caring for sick little ones. It brings out all the nurturing mama reserves, and it taps a wellspring of patience I otherwise don't know I have. I love the snuggling, the crawling into the lap, stroking the hair and curling up under a blanket. Maddie and Riley are extremely active kids, and while it's hard to see them slowed down by illness, it's nice to suddenly have two kids who just want to sit with Mama and be close.
I hope this is short-lived. I hope I don't get it! Sweet dreams to all.
They are luckily not seriously ill (knock on wood). Riley's cough and bit of a fever over the weekend are now just a lingering cough and congestion with no more heat. Maddie seems to be a few days behind and was feverish when I got home from work today. Between being under the weather and not having napped well, both kids were really tired, so we had a very mellow evening of a picnic dinner in the living room, two Doras (Two! I'm so crazy!), stories, and bed. They've been in bed for about five minutes and I think they're both asleep, which is unusal for them; they usually chat for a good half hour before dozing off.
Like most (all?) parents, I feel so awful for Maddie and Riley when they are ill. They are at least now old enough for me to comisserate verbally and explain that they will feel better "soon," whatever that means to the toddler's tenuous grasp of time. But I confess that I, like most (again, all?) parents, there is something so rewarding and sweet about caring for sick little ones. It brings out all the nurturing mama reserves, and it taps a wellspring of patience I otherwise don't know I have. I love the snuggling, the crawling into the lap, stroking the hair and curling up under a blanket. Maddie and Riley are extremely active kids, and while it's hard to see them slowed down by illness, it's nice to suddenly have two kids who just want to sit with Mama and be close.
I hope this is short-lived. I hope I don't get it! Sweet dreams to all.
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