Friday, October 30, 2009
And she said,
"You make it sound really fun to have kids. Can't wait."
I backpedaled, hard and fast.
Because you see, having my son has been and continues to be the absolute best part of my life so far. Marriage is great too, but there is something so incredibly interesting about raising a child. His accomplishments make me feel like they are my accomplishments--I get so excited about them. I'm not talking about the people who live vicariously through their children by forcing them to do sports and stuff. I'm just talking about the triumphant feeling when your 18 month old poops and pees in the toilet.
Not only am I excited for him, I'm excited for me.
Because that means I'm getting closer to being done with the diapers.
Sometimes I look at other moms and wonder if I haven't adapted well enough, because some of them seem to make life all about the kids. I'm so not that person. I find that after a few days of no breaks from my kid that things get a little intolerable, and you just get the feeling that you are sucked dry.
I need sleep. I need to shower without a kid waiting in the pack'n'play in the hallway. I need a restaurant meal that does not involve me paying $13 for an entree and spending the meal picking up food off the carpet (and really? Carpet in a restaurant? Not great interior design work there) and taking so long managing my kid that my food gets cold.
A maid and a dog-walker would be nice too.
I am blessed with a wonderful husband who takes care of Holden a lot on evenings when I have homework or for a Saturday afternoon (his ulterior motive is watching football). But that doesn't fill up the empty tank. Even when I'm taking a "break" from my son, I'm feeling guilty that I'm not with my dad. Or my "break" is spent at the hospital with my dad. Or doing homework. Or getting groceries.
I'm stretched about as thin as you can get without falling apart.
I'm starting to miss my old self. The self that wasn't quite this exhausted or this sad. The self who didn't burst into tears in the cereal aisle of Wal-Mart. I'm missing the self who used to talk about things other than housecleaning, medical terminology, and grief. She existed before all this, I know she did. On my drive home today I was imagining her well rested with a new pedicure, new highlights, and wearing a cute little outfit and very high heels sipping a martini with a friend at the Starlite lounge.
I haven't asked my husband, but I'm sure he'd like to see that woman again soon too.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
"Ham hock soup?" He inquires.
"No, I don't like pork." I reply. Five seconds pass,
"Ham steak? Pork chops?" He asks earnestly.
"Nope, still don't like pork." I smile.
"How about bacon? Sausage? Pork roast?"
"No honey, I'll just find something on my own. Make whatever you want."
This is the conversation we have had every day for the past week and a half. You have to hand it to him, he is persistent. And the man likes his pork.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I’ve been having a little bit of trouble lately. I start writing a word or two and then sit as the cursor flashes, waiting for something more to come out. I have to admit I have also been screening calls, it’s gotten so bad that the only calls I answer now are from my dear husband, my stepmom, or my brother. It’s nothing personal; I just have nothing to say. I don’t want to hear stories about how your cat did something funny today or about you. The thing about grief is that it is pretty consuming and becomes all about me. Which is a shame because everyone involved wants to help the other people but doesn’t generally have the emotional resources left after doing their own grieving to help the others.
Yesterday was a good day with dad, yesterday he spoke to me. I was crying, saying,
“You always had all the answers, you’re my dad.”
He looked up at me and said clearly,
“I don’t have all the answers.”
I’ve known it for years in my head, since I was much younger and there were questions my parents couldn’t answer anymore. But in my heart he is still the person I go to for all the answers. How to change the oil, how to tape drywall, how to get my kid to sleep through the night, how to lay bathroom tile—the person I call to help with my taxes and to babysit. He has always been that person.
It annoyed my husband when we first got married, but I became more creative about asking Dad’s advice. I didn’t do it in front of my dear husband. There were/are just things we haven’t done and don’t know at our (young?) age.
I have always been a main beneficiary of Dad's wisdom, and his memory is akin to a steel trap. You want to know how to fly-fish? He can tell you. Would you like to learn how to be a great wrestler? He can teach you. You want to know how to start a fire like a boy scout? He will show you. Do you want to know the names of every battle of the war of 1812? He can tell you that too.
I was listening to a sermon on the radio the other day about people and prayer. The host was talking about how many people think God is their errand boy. If I ask Him to do this, then He will do it. Need to lose weight? God will help with that. Want to get rich? God will help with that too. Want someone to keep on living? Oh, God will answer that prayer.
I get a little confused when people say they will pray for my dad. I’m not really sure what that prayer sounds like. If someone is terminally ill, are they praying that he gets better? That he is comfortable? Every time someone tells me they’re praying for him, I want to say: You should be praying for the family. He is going to be in a good place when this is all over and we are going to be in pain.
But maybe that’s just the grief talking.
Friday, October 16, 2009
We had a short date night tonight and ended up at the Macaroni Grill...we usually don't go to chain restaurants on dates but I don't get out much so as long as I'm going out to eat I don't care. We had the best waiter ever, and his name was Simon. He was so good it prompted us to ask for the manager and compliment the service. He was efficient, friendly, I always had a full glass and he never, never interrupted our conversation but somehow managed to ask if we liked everything. It was sort of like having a house elf a la Harry Potter (only not annoying). Like he wasn't even there but managed to get everything we needed. In addition, the food was piping hot and we watched the bread come out of the oven and to our table within 30 seconds. It was like the nirvana of restaurant service. It wasn't even painful to pay the bill because it was so good. And I know you're wondering...I had the seasoned halibut topped with tomato basil relish and served with pine nut pesto Parmesan risotto.
Jealous? You should be.
My dad is in hospice care at the hospital. There are just too many factors for his body to overcome at this point. I am overcome with grief at the thought of losing him, but I've known the day has been coming and was hoping it wasn't coming so soon. But it is. So forgive me if blog entries are sporadic and/or disjointed. We could use lots of prayers if you are so inclined.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
This is what my child looks like when his mother lets him eat two chocolate chip cookies (and milk of course) at 9:30 in the morning. In hindsight, maybe chocolate chip cookies aren't such a good idea before church.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
She handed me a list of stressful events and had me circle the ones that had happened to me since January 2009. The directions said to circle all that had happened in the last two years, but I think she wanted to narrow the scope of this particular exercise so limited it to the last 9 months.
“Well, my first thought is that life could be worse.”
I continued, “I know that’s not the answer you were looking for, but my first instinct is to say that it could be much, much worse based upon this list of bad things. I know you were looking for me to say that my life has been really stressful though.”
She nodded. Then asked, “How could it be worse?”
“Well, at least my spouse didn’t die and/or I didn’t get divorced."
Thursday, October 1, 2009
It happens to be the scariest movie of all time.
The movie scared the crap out of me when I was a kid except I had never seen the end of it until last year because I guess I’m like Phoebe Buffay and don’t watch the end of scary movies. I am determined to finish Rosemary’s Baby sometime this month though. It’s a classic.