Life on the other side meant something else

When I started this blog the title referred to me learning about life postpartum as a mom...today it means something totally different.

Today. Today it means something totally different. Today, it is the opposite of all the joyful reasons I began this blog.  Today, it refers to me, a mom who lost my mom.
 
Every time I talk or write about "it," I find myself not able to say the word...I always say something like "when we lost mom" or "she passed" but the reality is...the reality is that I made it just that far before I balled my eyes out.  The reality is that I just tried and I couldn't write it.

So, let me try this another way.  This post is about my grief, it's about how tired I am of being sad, it's about how the thought of how tired I am of being sad just makes me cry more (like now).  I am just hoping that trying to dump out everything in my brain might just make room for healing.

On August 12th at 7:30PM I got a text that Mom was on her way to the hospital via Ambulance.  She never left.

That night, somehow, in hindsight I think she "knew."  It was the first time I think she was scared...she couldn't breathe and I now know that she begged dad not to let her die.  I can only begin to imagine how scared he was, too. I didn't go home until midnight, there were no answers as to what was wrong, but they'd stabilized her and decided to admit her.  I left only because she told me to, "you have work tomorrow, and the babies (that's what she called the kids) need you at home." So, I listened to my mom and I went home.  I can't remember the ride home, but I remember crawling in the bed that night worrying about my mom.  I somehow knew that despite all other trips to the hospital, this one was different and I needed to find a way to be back the next day and as much as possible until she came home. 

You cannot imagine the thoughts that go through your head when you begin to think you are going to loose a parent.  I wanted to ask her questions...but I didn't want her to think I thought she was going to - there it is, that word I can't say.  I thought of a million things to say and nothing to say...I though about even more things I wanted to discuss but I couldn't find words to say them that sounded right. I finally blurted out how sorry I was if I was a shit to raise. I told her I loved her more than I have in a while and with more sincerity...the sincerity I should have been using all along.

Losing Time

I remember watching "Everyone Loves Raymond" (back when a new episode was aired weekly) and thinking how weird the episode was that centered around Frank "sniffing" the kids' heads and saying something to the effect of "I'm sucking in the youth."  Weird, it was weird....right? 

Nope. It wasn't weird, I just didn't understand.

Maisie is now 2 and Logan will be 4 next week...4!  When did I get here?  I have a 4 year old.  We are talking about kindergarten and private v/s public school.  I thought there would be more time before this happened. 

More Time.  That is quite a notion if you really think about it. I just need more time to finish my homework. If I'd just had more time to study. I wish I'd had more time to play/hang out/chat.  There need to be more hours in the day.  I've uttered these phrases and others like them a million times and every time I've said them it's related to work...school work, house work, working on a friendships and work work.  Rarely have I ever said them and really meant them.

What is a more realistic thought/statement/notion is that I'm losing time.  I'm losing valuable growing moments with my kids while I'm worrying about catching up on laundry or

The Ugly Truth

PrePost Disclaimer: I've had about 2.5 hours of sleep in the last 32 hours and I don't get to sleep again for another 8+ hours, so don't judge my spelling and grammar in this post, please.

I'm about to dump some real truth on you, so if you're not ready for hard core veracity, leave now.

I love my kids, I do, I swear I love them more than anything else in my life, ever...but right now, I don't like one of them very much, at all. 

My full contact sport of a life has gone from the things we have to do and the accidental bumps/bruises that result (on both kids and us) to living in a constant state of being hit, kicked, pushed, scratched and one attempt at biting. 

More truth -  it is hard as hell to keep your cool.  I mean really, really, grind your teeth, hold your breath, clench your fists and count to like a million, HARD to keep your cool.  And I'm here to tell you that lately, I've lost my 'S' a couple of times...which leads to immediate post-yelling guilt and self deprecating crying.  How could I yell at a little person, you ask?  Well, clearly you don't have one.  They are like brilliant little ninjas...they figure out exactly which of your buttons to push at what time and know exactly how long you can tolerate it and then, they push some more.

I am vehement disbeliever in the term "terrible two's."  They do not exist...(I reserve the right to rescind this statement in about a year) What does exist is something of almost Biblical Proportion.  I have tried to find some quippy little rhyming term or alliteration to use for the 4th year of my child's life (Age 3), but nothing lives up to the actual experience. 

I never ever want to wish time away, especially not when my kids are so little.  But really, if I just had a cage to put him in...I jest, well, mostly.

I'd love to babble on further about how this impacts spousal relationships, but frankly, I've used up all the cognitive energy I have for today...and tomorrow.

But before I totally bring this stream of thought to a close I want to note that whether you love it, hate it or have never heard of it, I have to say I'm kind of glad to have the "power of facebook" at my fingertips.  Through the last few weeks of hell, I've posted asking for advice and support and I've really been pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of support I've received.  Glad to know that A)I'm not alone, B) there is lots of alcohol waiting for me in various parts of the state & country and C) I have some really really great friends...and that's not just because they'll make sure the beer's on ice when I arrive.

Parenting is harder than Pro Football

In football, during the playoffs, teams get "Bye weeks."  In parenting, during the screamfest tournament, I get only a bye day...I think that is today.

Last night, more of the same.  We thought we'd give everyone a change of scenery and go out to dinner...BIG MISTAKE.  Maisie didn't want to eat and thus proceeded in one swift motion to create a 15+ foot splatter zone around her and our table.  The wait staff at La Hacienda seemed abundantly thrilled with this.  THEN, Logan began to melt down and not tell us what was wrong.  After 5 minutes of telling him that there were other people here who "didn't want to hear his mouth," (channeling my inner Bob May, I think) he finally caved and told me that his issue was that he wanted to be in a seat like Maisie.  So we sat, in a booth, with two kids crammed in high chairs at the end of the table...[enter pomp and circumstance that starts the circus H E R E]

This meant that we got to spend dinner saying, things like, "don't push her chair or you'll flip it over." "keep your feet off the table," "she can't get any closer/farther away because you're both in high chairs."  This culminated in my asking the waiter if he wanted either/both children.  Up until this point, he didn't speak great English (think of Rob using sign language for "Cheese Deep" and "small cerveza"), but that translated well enough that he picked up Maisie, in highchair, and walked away.  In parenting, there is a nanosecond where anything and everything makes you panic...he took just a hair longer than that nanosecond and I almost went after the dude.  But, he brought her right back (with a slightly less than panic look *note to self - start talking to Maisie now about stranger danger*), walked away and came back with a ring pop.  Yes folks, ONE ring pop...and 2 kids.  For the second time during dinner, I almost killed the waiter.  $1.50 later at check out we thwarted the single ring pop issue with Logan's first piece of gum (the giant ball of gum), a ring pop and 2 york patties. 

We will not be going out to eat with the kids again any time soon.

So, my "Bye day."  This morning, Logan was an angel...really an angel, almost better than his normal good self.  He got up happy, ate breakfast without incident, allowed me to dress him without a fight, went potty willingly... and then the Pièce de résistance, he said, "Mommy, I love you."  It was then I realized that today we both get a bye.  With any luck, it will last all weekend.  In all likelihood, it will last for 24-36 hours with only a few hiccups.  Either way, I'll take it. 

Pro Football players train, practice, play an entire Preseason and a Season of full contact football before they enter the playoffs and receive their "bye week."  Parents get 9 months to joyfully plan for the next 18 years, at best they trained as teenagers while baby sitting or watching a younger sibling.  Parenting is a full contact sport, if you don't believe me, just try to trim the fingernails/toenails of a toddler, or attempt to politely suck boogers out of their nose with one of those bulb things...it's full contact people, take my word for it. So, today I will gladly take a bye and use it to find perspective.

I am glad that parenting is my sport, I would choose it any day over pro football.  The rewards are far greater and much longer lasting... Everything about parenting is better than pro football...well, except for the pay.

The Sport of ScreamCrying & who are you people?

If scream-crying was a sport, then I'd say we've had a monumental "game" at our house...nay a tournament lately. If you don't know what scream-crying is, then I suggest putting on the music you hated the most in high school, on repeat, as loud as your Bose system will go, for as long as you can stand it...that will irritate a fraction of the nerve that scream-crying attacks. 

I don't know if it's age, lack of sleep, hormones (mine or theirs) or what, but for the past 3 days E V E R Y T H I N G sets my kids off.  This morning I put the toothpaste on Logan's toothbrush and 30 minutes later, after Rob held him for 10 minutes, it was like a switch.  The "Game" was over- he fell silent and ate breakfast.   In what I will refer to as "tournament games," (you know, those that really count) over the past few days it only takes one kid starting the scream cry and with in minutes the other one chimes in.  I've tried my best, WE've tried our best to do what the pediatrician recommends and ignore the behavior but we can't.  I've tried time out, for me and the kids and nothing works. 

H E L P

You know the phrase, Life's a journey, well Parenting is more like a Marine Corps mud run except everything is dirty and you don't know why, the obstacles are harder because you don't understand them and the people who are "winning" are literally half your size.  I suggest you plan your attack one step at a time...

Step one - WINE and lots of it.  That's really as far as I've gotten into the "step" process, so really if you know step two and beyond, please share.

In a totally separate and random stream of thought...

I like to tell stories; real ones, not fiction.  I'd never be good at writing a book because everyone I know would sue me for telling on them...really, I'm not a great writer, I just know a bunch of kooks who do fun/funny stuff and give me "material."

With that said, I've gotten several notes about how much folks are enjoying my blog.  "That is great," I say, "Please continue to follow me."  I have 4 followers.   I don't care if I have 1 or 700, but what I do wonder is how in the world I have 4 followers and yet 70+ people have read several of my blog posts.  Who are you people and why am I so interesting?  Follow me for Pete sake, I want to know who you are! 

 

The Plan & The Ketchup.

I am so far behind with I want to write that I've decided I need a plan of attack.  Rather than irregular lengthy posts, I am striving for regular more concise updates on life.  I know, lofty expectations, but if I don't plan it - it won't happen.

So, in the spirit of the "ketchup," (ketchup because last year was messy and ketchup is messier than catch up) here is 2012 the overview:

January 2012 - I was so right! (I love saying that) Maisie arrived and she is just the spunky, vivacious, Giant Personality we expected, but I couldn't possibly have asked for anything different. Logan adjusted well and quickly to having Maisie in the house. 

February 2012 - Mom had what we thought was a heart attack and turned out to be an extreme case of Anxiety...AKA a blessing in disguise.  While in the hospital the Dr's found that she had lung cancer.  Logically, this shouldn't have been a surprise as we all know she's smoked since she was a teen, but realistically it scared the shit out of everyone.

March brought Logan's second Birthday and a round of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease for Logan, Maisie and myself.  That was less than enjoyable.  I returned to work from Maternity leave and though it was easier than the first time, it was still super hard to leave Miss M! 

April, May and June are a Crazy blur...Rob traveled A LOT! I had a huge work "Thing" going on that caused a great deal of stress (but ended VERY well).  Mom started radiation, Maisie started eating, Chrissy was in the throws of wedding planning and I had to pick out a bridesmaid's dress while also working on losing baby weight-not the combo I wanted, but hey, ya do what ya can and let the chips fall where they may.

Summer brought a fresh new outlook on work, the completion of Mom's radiation, Chrissy's Wedding Dress, more travel for Rob.   We never took the boat out and only took a few days for vacation.  All in all, more than half of 2012 blew by and mostly I just tried to keep up.

In October, Chrissy was married and is now Mrs Matt Long.  In November, I became an aunt to the sweetest little peanut...Ryan and Casey's son, Declan.  Logan declares regularly that Declan is his buddy and he gets to teach him big boy stuff.  Maisie adores him, and I think she thinks he's her live baby doll. 

Holidays were another crazy mess as well ALL, and I do mean all, got the noro virus.  complete with all the puke, etc you can imagine.  12 of us in all...Chrissy even spent Christmas in the bed at home while we kept her involved via facetime.  Barely recovered from that and had Maisie's first birthday followed almost immediately by Logan's 3rd. 

So, in a messy nutshell with complete lack of descriptive detail, that was my "ketchup."  Now, cross your fingers and wiggle your nose and throw some good luck my way and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to keep up with this thing a little more.

She's here...and I'm still alive.

10 weeks and 1 day after her arrival, I can grab a moment to catch up on thoughts.

She is amazing! Maisie is sooo much different than Logan! Who knew that eat/sleep/poop/start over could be so different.  He would eat and sleep, she eats and if we are lucky, she sleeps.  He slept through the night at 6.5 weeks...she sleeps most of the night, but wakes up about 4AM and I have to put her next to me to get her to sleep until a reasonable 5-6AM.  He would poop, she has these ridiculously epic bowel movements that require loud and long preparation on her part.  Different as night and day!

I was so worried about loving her, but I do love her! I love her just as much as I love Logan...