Tonight a sweet widow is clinging to her life, in the ICU due to a diagnosis of septic shock. I feel such a strange mix of emotions about this dear woman.
She is a very good friend of my mom's. When Adam died, she sent me notes. She had been widowed not too many years before me. She knew how I felt. Only a widow can get this kind of grief, understand the longing for the love of that spouse that is lacking, and long for his presence. She knew. She knew what it felt like to simply want to be swept up and be gone. Not suicidal. But just gone, reunited with an eternal mate. We both knew.
The first Christmas after Adam died, she came to my parents' house and dropped off bucket after bucket of toys. Cool boy toys. Toys that her grandsons no longer used. She wanted my boys to be ok. And she wanted me to be ok.
Tonight I want her to be ok. To her family, I'm sure this is too soon for her to go "home." To her friends, she needs to be around longer, to be the light that she shines, to continue to share her musical talents, to be the woman of laughter and fun that she is, the spiritual giant.
It is a strange feeling to pray for her and want her to be better, yet have a deeper understanding of how she longed to be with her sweetheart too. This knowledge makes my prayers difficult.
I simply pray that the Lord's will WILL be. That His love will soften the hearts of the many who she has touched. And most importantly that her children will be strengthened. For everyone needs a mom. And a dad. And I'm sure they don't want to be without both so soon.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Friday, October 25, 2013
Fall Harvest
Tonight I went on an outing. I went to attend a singles activity with church friends. A bonfire and hayride, to be exact. What I wasn't expecting was some amazing imagery along the way tonight.
We went to a farm almost an hour away from my home. I forget that while I'm in the city, the rural areas of Nebraska really aren't that far away. I saw the most breathtaking sunset on my drive down there. I had some quiet time to think and to ponder. As I drove south on Highway 50, I noticed some things. First, the corn. As it is dead and being cleared for the season, most cornfields are in the process of being clear cut--harvested. As I gazed at one particular field, I noticed that these tan-colored corn stalks were all permanently wind blow toward the east. They had been acted upon by nature's flow, the way the wind blows--and from west to east as all storms come in this part of Nebraska. Considering a stalk of corn starts out from seedlings in the spring, to an 8 ft stalk that is only a couple of inches thick in diameter, corn is something with which I'm always fascinated. I mean, if you understood how the wind blows and how these giant stalks still stand tall. Yet the tops end up having a definite direction with which they've been blown. Like they've been acted upon and have no other choice but to be moved a bit.
I kept on driving. I saw a sign for the Sarpy County impound lot. To this day, I'm not completely positive that this is where Adam's car went after the crash. But I'm pretty sure it did while insurance and things were settled and the criminal investigation was completed. As I passed this sign, I wondered if this is where it went. And then I saw the name of the road. Fairview.
I don't whine or murmur or whatever term one wants to use for my complaints. I mean, I DO...but I don't complain like I once did. Things feel different now. But I found the name of this street fascinating. I drove on rolling hills. Some of my most favorite places on the planet where there are farms and beautiful farm homes that dot the horizon, corn, grain bins, and combines. I love this drive. If one stays in the city and never stops to take a drive and realize what else exists, the view that one sees is not fair. It can be downright ugly. But atop these hills, perspective changes. It isn't only fair. It is right and it is just. It is exactly what I feel about my life. This is where I'm supposed to be right now, doing exactly what I'm doing, in the right space in time, with Adam right where he is. It is a fair view.
Then I saw a sign for the town of Manley. While not spelled "Manly," I just thought this was funny.
It was cold out. And windy (of course). We went for a long hayride. Away from the city lights, it reminded me of the many times, with and without Adam, that I have gazed into the sky and been amazed by the stars and their beauty. When one is in the darkest of dark outside with nothing to cling to, it is interesting how bright the stars feel. We sometimes need to feel even the smallest of spiritual rebirth when things are the darkest we can imagine.
On the ride home, I noticed something I'd never seen before. I have only seen a combine harvester during the daytime at work, cutting down the tall corn stalks. It never occured to me that they could work at night, in the dark, with just the small headlights on the combine. That somehow, those lights would be enough. I never thought it was possible to work at night in a field.
I never thought I could do any of what I"m doing right now. I never thought I could mow a yard and tend to the outside of a home. But I am. I never thought I could raise children on my own. But I am. I never thought I could be a full-time, working, solo mom. But I am. I never thought I could survive long-term without living close to family. But I am. It is all possible. Maybe not ideal. Maybe not something that I want to do. Maybe not something that I do cheerfully or gratefully. But it is possible.
Heavenly Father doesn't make us choose. We get to do something about our corn stalks after they've been blown one direction. He gives us a way to see the good in the world, and helps us realize that we don't always get a spot light to tell us what to do or how our life will proceed. But he gives us little bits of light to make it through. Lastly, he gives us a light in order to work through the night, to get through life with the most important things we need--he helps us get through all the stuff, all the changed plans, hopes, and dreams in order to continue through each day, reaping the harvest that we need so desperately to place before us. The harvest is upon us.
We went to a farm almost an hour away from my home. I forget that while I'm in the city, the rural areas of Nebraska really aren't that far away. I saw the most breathtaking sunset on my drive down there. I had some quiet time to think and to ponder. As I drove south on Highway 50, I noticed some things. First, the corn. As it is dead and being cleared for the season, most cornfields are in the process of being clear cut--harvested. As I gazed at one particular field, I noticed that these tan-colored corn stalks were all permanently wind blow toward the east. They had been acted upon by nature's flow, the way the wind blows--and from west to east as all storms come in this part of Nebraska. Considering a stalk of corn starts out from seedlings in the spring, to an 8 ft stalk that is only a couple of inches thick in diameter, corn is something with which I'm always fascinated. I mean, if you understood how the wind blows and how these giant stalks still stand tall. Yet the tops end up having a definite direction with which they've been blown. Like they've been acted upon and have no other choice but to be moved a bit.
I kept on driving. I saw a sign for the Sarpy County impound lot. To this day, I'm not completely positive that this is where Adam's car went after the crash. But I'm pretty sure it did while insurance and things were settled and the criminal investigation was completed. As I passed this sign, I wondered if this is where it went. And then I saw the name of the road. Fairview.
I don't whine or murmur or whatever term one wants to use for my complaints. I mean, I DO...but I don't complain like I once did. Things feel different now. But I found the name of this street fascinating. I drove on rolling hills. Some of my most favorite places on the planet where there are farms and beautiful farm homes that dot the horizon, corn, grain bins, and combines. I love this drive. If one stays in the city and never stops to take a drive and realize what else exists, the view that one sees is not fair. It can be downright ugly. But atop these hills, perspective changes. It isn't only fair. It is right and it is just. It is exactly what I feel about my life. This is where I'm supposed to be right now, doing exactly what I'm doing, in the right space in time, with Adam right where he is. It is a fair view.
Then I saw a sign for the town of Manley. While not spelled "Manly," I just thought this was funny.
It was cold out. And windy (of course). We went for a long hayride. Away from the city lights, it reminded me of the many times, with and without Adam, that I have gazed into the sky and been amazed by the stars and their beauty. When one is in the darkest of dark outside with nothing to cling to, it is interesting how bright the stars feel. We sometimes need to feel even the smallest of spiritual rebirth when things are the darkest we can imagine.
On the ride home, I noticed something I'd never seen before. I have only seen a combine harvester during the daytime at work, cutting down the tall corn stalks. It never occured to me that they could work at night, in the dark, with just the small headlights on the combine. That somehow, those lights would be enough. I never thought it was possible to work at night in a field.
I never thought I could do any of what I"m doing right now. I never thought I could mow a yard and tend to the outside of a home. But I am. I never thought I could raise children on my own. But I am. I never thought I could be a full-time, working, solo mom. But I am. I never thought I could survive long-term without living close to family. But I am. It is all possible. Maybe not ideal. Maybe not something that I want to do. Maybe not something that I do cheerfully or gratefully. But it is possible.
Heavenly Father doesn't make us choose. We get to do something about our corn stalks after they've been blown one direction. He gives us a way to see the good in the world, and helps us realize that we don't always get a spot light to tell us what to do or how our life will proceed. But he gives us little bits of light to make it through. Lastly, he gives us a light in order to work through the night, to get through life with the most important things we need--he helps us get through all the stuff, all the changed plans, hopes, and dreams in order to continue through each day, reaping the harvest that we need so desperately to place before us. The harvest is upon us.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Some Time in the Basement
I've needed a time out for a bit. Sometimes sharing info with the masses is simply too much, so I've needed a break. It has been a good time for me to ponder on a lot of things and receive some of my own personal insights. It's great that we have a Heavenly Father that allows and provides this two-way communication. It's important.
Tonight I decided to go look in the basement for some warmer clothes for the boys. I've been protesting the upcoming cooler weather and been trying to enjoy the fall. I realized that our days of shorts-wearing are coming to a close. Bummer.
In my basement, I got a little distracted. On top of the 3T tub (where I needed to look) was Adam's computer case. The one that was in the crash, in the trunk of the car. I decided right then and there that I'd go through that thing. Right down to every scrap of paper. I found some very interesting things in this bag. It felt good to go through all of it. I found a couple of things that I've been looking for [half-heartedly] for the past 3 years that I can finally give back to the radiology department. I haven't felt up to searching this bag too thoroughly.
After I had shredded papers and thrown away unnecessary items, I decided to go through one more thing that I had been avoiding. His backpack. And it literally took my breath away when I opened it. In it were items from our Disneyland trip with Adam's best friend Mark and my family during the month before Adam died. And a bunch of other random stuff. I can't figure out if this stuff was left over from our California trip or if it was from work. But the main thing that took my breath away was that I found some of his clothes. And they smell like him. Still.
On Saturday, I took 2 of the boys to Ted E. Bear Hollow. This place has turned out to be an amazing experience for my boys--and for me. One of the facilitators of the adult group that day mentioned how smells are one of the biggest triggers of grief. She mentioned how that is why many people break down in grocery stores, since much of lives are interconnected to food and gatherings. She's right. Smells are sometimes why I stop in my tracks and have to take a moment. It's a strange thing that something like a smell can bring us so vividly back to a place in time. Certainly this can be good and bad. It just IS.
So when I found these clothes, all I could do was sit in that basement and cry and hold them close. The two little boys noticed (because I really can't do anything without someone watching me...) the basement light on and came, wanting to help me in my task. I shooed them back upstairs telling them that I needed some Mommy time.
It has been three years. Three. While I see the progress I've made, I still long for Adam. I still place a pillow or a blanket next to me at night when I sleep, where he would be. I still expect him to kiss me goodnight. I still love his flavor chapstick on my lips. I still long to hear his laugh and his jokes. I still miss him coming home from work at night. I still wish he'd do the yard work.
I don't think I act out of fear with much of what I do anymore. Sometimes I act of out apathy more than fear (--not good. I know.). I'm still working on faith--as it will be a lifelong pursuit.
I'm still impatient with others. Things people say still tick me off at times or sometimes feel like a jab when I'm sure such intent is not there. I'm not near as sensitive as I was that first year and a half. Thankfully.
I want to have more hope and faith. I want to be more Christ-like and love all people with the love that I should. I want to be able to serve others more. I get so frustrated that I can't serve enough. There is so much joy to be found in service.
I'm trying to enjoy the present. But I've come to understand that "enjoy" is not quite what I had once envisioned. While I love my children, raising three young boys as a solo parent is not really about fun and games. It is about discipline and teaching them that the Lord has a plan for them. The burden is heavy for one person to carry and I feel the weight of it. There is so much that Adam would be a better teacher. I know it. So I'm trying my best--it's all I can do.
I'm learning that simple living is most important for us. I've come to realize that I'm glad that Adam died while we were living a simple life with little means, rather than the alternative. It helps me know how to focus on the best and most important principles of life. Simple is better for me. The Lord knew that.
But most importantly, I'm learning to understand Adam's purpose right now, and how I fit into our eternal family. I know that in everything, the Lord watches over me and loves me with unconditional love. I know that I have a good deal to learn here and that Adam is by my side learning too--for his learning is not complete. When I can look at life in this way, it gives me hope and helps me realize that everything that we go through, every sorrow and every bit of suffering is not wasted. The Lord gives us opportunities to learn and to choose our paths--or specifically, what we want to do with our paths. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior who understand this principle better than me, and who patiently wait for me to allow them to teach me.
Tonight I decided to go look in the basement for some warmer clothes for the boys. I've been protesting the upcoming cooler weather and been trying to enjoy the fall. I realized that our days of shorts-wearing are coming to a close. Bummer.
In my basement, I got a little distracted. On top of the 3T tub (where I needed to look) was Adam's computer case. The one that was in the crash, in the trunk of the car. I decided right then and there that I'd go through that thing. Right down to every scrap of paper. I found some very interesting things in this bag. It felt good to go through all of it. I found a couple of things that I've been looking for [half-heartedly] for the past 3 years that I can finally give back to the radiology department. I haven't felt up to searching this bag too thoroughly.
After I had shredded papers and thrown away unnecessary items, I decided to go through one more thing that I had been avoiding. His backpack. And it literally took my breath away when I opened it. In it were items from our Disneyland trip with Adam's best friend Mark and my family during the month before Adam died. And a bunch of other random stuff. I can't figure out if this stuff was left over from our California trip or if it was from work. But the main thing that took my breath away was that I found some of his clothes. And they smell like him. Still.
On Saturday, I took 2 of the boys to Ted E. Bear Hollow. This place has turned out to be an amazing experience for my boys--and for me. One of the facilitators of the adult group that day mentioned how smells are one of the biggest triggers of grief. She mentioned how that is why many people break down in grocery stores, since much of lives are interconnected to food and gatherings. She's right. Smells are sometimes why I stop in my tracks and have to take a moment. It's a strange thing that something like a smell can bring us so vividly back to a place in time. Certainly this can be good and bad. It just IS.
So when I found these clothes, all I could do was sit in that basement and cry and hold them close. The two little boys noticed (because I really can't do anything without someone watching me...) the basement light on and came, wanting to help me in my task. I shooed them back upstairs telling them that I needed some Mommy time.
It has been three years. Three. While I see the progress I've made, I still long for Adam. I still place a pillow or a blanket next to me at night when I sleep, where he would be. I still expect him to kiss me goodnight. I still love his flavor chapstick on my lips. I still long to hear his laugh and his jokes. I still miss him coming home from work at night. I still wish he'd do the yard work.
I don't think I act out of fear with much of what I do anymore. Sometimes I act of out apathy more than fear (--not good. I know.). I'm still working on faith--as it will be a lifelong pursuit.
I'm still impatient with others. Things people say still tick me off at times or sometimes feel like a jab when I'm sure such intent is not there. I'm not near as sensitive as I was that first year and a half. Thankfully.
I want to have more hope and faith. I want to be more Christ-like and love all people with the love that I should. I want to be able to serve others more. I get so frustrated that I can't serve enough. There is so much joy to be found in service.
I'm trying to enjoy the present. But I've come to understand that "enjoy" is not quite what I had once envisioned. While I love my children, raising three young boys as a solo parent is not really about fun and games. It is about discipline and teaching them that the Lord has a plan for them. The burden is heavy for one person to carry and I feel the weight of it. There is so much that Adam would be a better teacher. I know it. So I'm trying my best--it's all I can do.
I'm learning that simple living is most important for us. I've come to realize that I'm glad that Adam died while we were living a simple life with little means, rather than the alternative. It helps me know how to focus on the best and most important principles of life. Simple is better for me. The Lord knew that.
But most importantly, I'm learning to understand Adam's purpose right now, and how I fit into our eternal family. I know that in everything, the Lord watches over me and loves me with unconditional love. I know that I have a good deal to learn here and that Adam is by my side learning too--for his learning is not complete. When I can look at life in this way, it gives me hope and helps me realize that everything that we go through, every sorrow and every bit of suffering is not wasted. The Lord gives us opportunities to learn and to choose our paths--or specifically, what we want to do with our paths. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior who understand this principle better than me, and who patiently wait for me to allow them to teach me.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
The Box
I finally did it. Tonight was round 2 of moving and packing. In so doing, some wonderful men--friends to both Adam and me--came to help load our gear. As certain things were packed, I felt bad having them move so much of Adam's stuff that I simply can't part with, but they moved it all without comment or complaint...even though I'm sure they were thinking, "She sure has A LOT of STUFF." I know I do. I'm a stuff person. I guess I'm just sentimental.
While moving lots of things from my basement, one of the men must've tried to move "the box" because right after people were walking out to their cars at the completion of their work on my move tonight, I gasped aloud and muttered. There was the box, out of the basement, out of its rightful space from down there for nearly 3 years. UGH. I knew I would have to go through it and just do it--FINALLY. But that stupid box has gotten to me every single time I have tried to go through it.
I told my mom about the box coming out from the basement. My mom helped nudge me along and we sat down in the garage and I worked on it. Bit by bit I looked through the books that Adam had had in his trunk. They were all old, rare medical books. Neat books with the sewn binding of old. They were a dentist's who went to Creighton who clearly had donated these books to the medical library. I should've written down his name but I didn't. Inside there was an old piece of binder paper that had what appeared to be this old dentist's notes. Beautifully written cursive throughout, it was fun to read (or try to read) his writing. Adam and I always wanted a library in our home one day, and more specifically, he wanted to have a collection of neat old medical books. I remember him telling me that the medical library was throwing these away and that was his intent with these books. They were a mangled mess though as I looked through them tonight. Binding ripped and not to be salvaged.
I got through the papers in the sturdy plastic zip lock bags. They were evidence bags from the police, just the way they presented Adam's things to me at the police station in La Vista. The papers were random things that were in his glovebox. Old ward directory with directions to an old babysitter's house with my scribbled writing. A map from our family Missouri camping trip to Branson and the Ozarks. A Michigan map from driving to MI for Christmas one year. A CD ROM with a computer game. A Wiggles DVD that we always used to joke and sing one particular song from. As I was sorting these papers and these things, that's when it got me. I would carefully take out each item and put it on the plastic zip lock. One of the items left behind a bunch of dried blood remains, as most of these things contained blood splatter and glass. I broke down and cried as my mom just sat quietly, knowing full well that I needed to do this. Then I came to Justin's shoes. In their own ziplock, I didn't need to take them out. They will always haunt me. They'll always make me wonder if the impact was so great that his shoes came off of his feet. Picturing my baby walking on Harrison barefooted. Those shoes will always be a reminder of what little 8 year old Justin saw. Maybe they'll always force from me a different sense of compassion for him, for he was witness to something that no human should have to see. Especially a child.
I bawled and continued with my task. I found a big ziplock full of pens. Adam had a million pens in the door of his car, he liked the pens he was given from various vendors. One of the vendors that was out in full force for a time happened to be Viagra. Adam came home with some of the funniest things from that company. I think the laws have changed in how drug companies can market to doctors and medical personnel, and he obtained these items long before that law took effect. As I was cleaning today, I found a Viagra keychain that was mixed in with Adam's electronic cords and wires. I started to laugh and tossed it to my mom who was working near me in the basement. She said, "What IS it?" Knowing that I already had other favorite Viagra imprinted things around my house, she asked if this was the penis pen that I had told her about. No. That pen will always live in infamy. It was quite nifty and I'm sad it broke. Adam said that thing would be worth money one day since the law changed, no longer to have Viagra imprinted on such things. I wish I still had it. Anyway, so she discovered that in this keychain was a compartment to store a couple of diamond-shaped Viagra tablets. So funny. And it had a little blue light on the end of it.
Why do I say this? Well, because as I was bawling and going over the nasty gruesome of this box, I spotted two different Viagra pens in the pen-grouped ziplock. One was made to have a 50 mg amount stamp on it and another was in pieces. This made us crack up. I laughed and laughed. Oh Adam and his pens.
What a conflict of emotions. It is par for the course of moving out of this house. It has been more exhausting than I can put in to words and I realize how grateful I am to have my mom as my mother. No one else could do what she is doing (and has done) to help my little family. And I'm grateful for my amazing dad who is holding down the fort while she is away. In addition, I'm grateful for a good ward family who teaches me of Christ-like service and friendship. My mom commented during this trip how I have my ward family who really is like my family. She also mentioned how sad I would be if any of them moved away, which I would. But I am grateful to have the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life and in the life on my family. His gospel is organized, simple, and wonderfully eternally life changing. It brings me joy through my tears, peace when I need comfort, and hope for my future. Through Him all will be made right and true.
While moving lots of things from my basement, one of the men must've tried to move "the box" because right after people were walking out to their cars at the completion of their work on my move tonight, I gasped aloud and muttered. There was the box, out of the basement, out of its rightful space from down there for nearly 3 years. UGH. I knew I would have to go through it and just do it--FINALLY. But that stupid box has gotten to me every single time I have tried to go through it.
I told my mom about the box coming out from the basement. My mom helped nudge me along and we sat down in the garage and I worked on it. Bit by bit I looked through the books that Adam had had in his trunk. They were all old, rare medical books. Neat books with the sewn binding of old. They were a dentist's who went to Creighton who clearly had donated these books to the medical library. I should've written down his name but I didn't. Inside there was an old piece of binder paper that had what appeared to be this old dentist's notes. Beautifully written cursive throughout, it was fun to read (or try to read) his writing. Adam and I always wanted a library in our home one day, and more specifically, he wanted to have a collection of neat old medical books. I remember him telling me that the medical library was throwing these away and that was his intent with these books. They were a mangled mess though as I looked through them tonight. Binding ripped and not to be salvaged.
I got through the papers in the sturdy plastic zip lock bags. They were evidence bags from the police, just the way they presented Adam's things to me at the police station in La Vista. The papers were random things that were in his glovebox. Old ward directory with directions to an old babysitter's house with my scribbled writing. A map from our family Missouri camping trip to Branson and the Ozarks. A Michigan map from driving to MI for Christmas one year. A CD ROM with a computer game. A Wiggles DVD that we always used to joke and sing one particular song from. As I was sorting these papers and these things, that's when it got me. I would carefully take out each item and put it on the plastic zip lock. One of the items left behind a bunch of dried blood remains, as most of these things contained blood splatter and glass. I broke down and cried as my mom just sat quietly, knowing full well that I needed to do this. Then I came to Justin's shoes. In their own ziplock, I didn't need to take them out. They will always haunt me. They'll always make me wonder if the impact was so great that his shoes came off of his feet. Picturing my baby walking on Harrison barefooted. Those shoes will always be a reminder of what little 8 year old Justin saw. Maybe they'll always force from me a different sense of compassion for him, for he was witness to something that no human should have to see. Especially a child.
I bawled and continued with my task. I found a big ziplock full of pens. Adam had a million pens in the door of his car, he liked the pens he was given from various vendors. One of the vendors that was out in full force for a time happened to be Viagra. Adam came home with some of the funniest things from that company. I think the laws have changed in how drug companies can market to doctors and medical personnel, and he obtained these items long before that law took effect. As I was cleaning today, I found a Viagra keychain that was mixed in with Adam's electronic cords and wires. I started to laugh and tossed it to my mom who was working near me in the basement. She said, "What IS it?" Knowing that I already had other favorite Viagra imprinted things around my house, she asked if this was the penis pen that I had told her about. No. That pen will always live in infamy. It was quite nifty and I'm sad it broke. Adam said that thing would be worth money one day since the law changed, no longer to have Viagra imprinted on such things. I wish I still had it. Anyway, so she discovered that in this keychain was a compartment to store a couple of diamond-shaped Viagra tablets. So funny. And it had a little blue light on the end of it.
Why do I say this? Well, because as I was bawling and going over the nasty gruesome of this box, I spotted two different Viagra pens in the pen-grouped ziplock. One was made to have a 50 mg amount stamp on it and another was in pieces. This made us crack up. I laughed and laughed. Oh Adam and his pens.
What a conflict of emotions. It is par for the course of moving out of this house. It has been more exhausting than I can put in to words and I realize how grateful I am to have my mom as my mother. No one else could do what she is doing (and has done) to help my little family. And I'm grateful for my amazing dad who is holding down the fort while she is away. In addition, I'm grateful for a good ward family who teaches me of Christ-like service and friendship. My mom commented during this trip how I have my ward family who really is like my family. She also mentioned how sad I would be if any of them moved away, which I would. But I am grateful to have the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life and in the life on my family. His gospel is organized, simple, and wonderfully eternally life changing. It brings me joy through my tears, peace when I need comfort, and hope for my future. Through Him all will be made right and true.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Moving
I have picked out a casket for my husband. Planned his funeral. Dealt with media attention. Stared my husband's killer in the eyes. I have stared into the empty grave that will one day house my body. I have stared into that same grave that now houses my eternal companion's body. I have nursed injured babies back to health. I have gone back to work. I have gotten up every single day for the past 33 months and tended to children and all that life has had in store, even though I've wanted to stay in bed all day, if even for one whole day. It has never happened. There has been no time for such a thing.
None of that could've prepared me for this next phase. This is by far the most emotionally taxing, heart wrenchingly draining.
I sort of mistakenly thought the most difficult days were over.
Wrong. They'll continue to creep up throughout my lifetime.
It's all just "stuff." Why does stuff make things so difficult? We can't take stuff with us when we die. But maybe that is why I cling to it so much--it is all I have that is still tangibly Adam. This house. The memories in it are him. Every square inch of this house. The way we studied it before we bought it. The way he looked when sitting on the stairs and tying his shoes. The way he smelled when he came in and put his dirty laundry in the laundry room after mowing the lawn. The hundreds of hours of time for us. Just us.
It's all emotionally draining.
It seemed like really bad timing that I had a sick child this week and had to take off 4 days of work. But I realized I sort of needed mental health days along with him being sick. I guess it was good timing for our family in that regard.
Still I cling to so much that is tied to this house. This was ours. Not anyone else's memories, but just the memories of our little family. That feels good. That was what I wanted in life. It is one of the things that I didn't realize I had until it was gone--it is no longer complete.
I went and sat in the basement and stared at everything for a very long time today. Stuff on shelves, I knew that it was the beginning to some major organizing and dejunking. It is quite overwhelming. Adam was supposed to help me pack and prepare this house for moving 2 years ago. I suppose this was the one "last" thing that he was supposed to help me with and so it opens so many raw wounds.
There are moments when I feel so completely paralyzed. I play the "what if" game in my mind and it brings me back to square one with my emotions and my grief. It hurts. I want to run away and deny that I have to do this. I flip flop all over again. I second guess myself.
No.
I will not do that. I KNOW this was the right time to sell this house. I KNOW that it is going to the right person and family. It all adds up nicely and I don't for one second feel that selling it was wrong.
It's just a well of nervousness for the future. Will the move work. Will we like our new house/neighbors/school/city. Will it feel like home.
I don't like the unknown and I've pretty much jumped into it with both feet. I will have to put on the strong mom face and act like it'll be "just fine" so the boys feel secure while my insides are conflicted.
Adam. I wish you were here. I feel your presence leaving us. I hate that. It scares me. But it confirms to me that it is time for me to figure out the next stage of life and to let you go a bit more. I feel the struggle and I feel your struggle with letting us be for a time. Somehow we will work it out. I don't like it one bit. But I think my heart needs to heal and it is time for it to grow. You are always with me, but it time to stop walking in your shadow and learn what I need to know next. We love you. We pray for you. Just as we are busy, we know you are too. Help us feel at peace with the decisions we've made. There are still many ahead.
None of that could've prepared me for this next phase. This is by far the most emotionally taxing, heart wrenchingly draining.
I sort of mistakenly thought the most difficult days were over.
Wrong. They'll continue to creep up throughout my lifetime.
It's all just "stuff." Why does stuff make things so difficult? We can't take stuff with us when we die. But maybe that is why I cling to it so much--it is all I have that is still tangibly Adam. This house. The memories in it are him. Every square inch of this house. The way we studied it before we bought it. The way he looked when sitting on the stairs and tying his shoes. The way he smelled when he came in and put his dirty laundry in the laundry room after mowing the lawn. The hundreds of hours of time for us. Just us.
It's all emotionally draining.
It seemed like really bad timing that I had a sick child this week and had to take off 4 days of work. But I realized I sort of needed mental health days along with him being sick. I guess it was good timing for our family in that regard.
Still I cling to so much that is tied to this house. This was ours. Not anyone else's memories, but just the memories of our little family. That feels good. That was what I wanted in life. It is one of the things that I didn't realize I had until it was gone--it is no longer complete.
I went and sat in the basement and stared at everything for a very long time today. Stuff on shelves, I knew that it was the beginning to some major organizing and dejunking. It is quite overwhelming. Adam was supposed to help me pack and prepare this house for moving 2 years ago. I suppose this was the one "last" thing that he was supposed to help me with and so it opens so many raw wounds.
There are moments when I feel so completely paralyzed. I play the "what if" game in my mind and it brings me back to square one with my emotions and my grief. It hurts. I want to run away and deny that I have to do this. I flip flop all over again. I second guess myself.
No.
I will not do that. I KNOW this was the right time to sell this house. I KNOW that it is going to the right person and family. It all adds up nicely and I don't for one second feel that selling it was wrong.
It's just a well of nervousness for the future. Will the move work. Will we like our new house/neighbors/school/city. Will it feel like home.
I don't like the unknown and I've pretty much jumped into it with both feet. I will have to put on the strong mom face and act like it'll be "just fine" so the boys feel secure while my insides are conflicted.
Adam. I wish you were here. I feel your presence leaving us. I hate that. It scares me. But it confirms to me that it is time for me to figure out the next stage of life and to let you go a bit more. I feel the struggle and I feel your struggle with letting us be for a time. Somehow we will work it out. I don't like it one bit. But I think my heart needs to heal and it is time for it to grow. You are always with me, but it time to stop walking in your shadow and learn what I need to know next. We love you. We pray for you. Just as we are busy, we know you are too. Help us feel at peace with the decisions we've made. There are still many ahead.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Enough
These thoughts have been stewing for a while.
What exactly is "enough?"
I say the phrase a lot, "I've had ENOUGH." Every time I say it, I TOTALLY mean it.
There's this story that my family tells. You know, it's one of those catch phrases that families sometimes have? This one is rooted in a family night lesson that my mom taught us when we were kids. There was this nice story of this man who was making a cake. He hurried through baking it and decided not to put eggs and some of the other ingredients in, just because he wanted it to be finished quickly. Of course, his finished cake turned out nasty. Inedible. Gross. Half-baked. This is why we use the term "half-baked" in my family. "Quit doing things half-baked." My mom used this on us kids, and I use it on my kids.
So I get that we can't go through life half-baked or doing things halfway.
But what exactly is ENOUGH.
What is enough scripture study? What is enough patience? What is enough learning? What is enough space for my children? What is enough stress? What is enough service? What is enough happiness? What is enough growth? I really don't know.
There is a constant tug of war in our lives of using our time on the best activities, instead of the good or better. What I haven't figured out is what exactly is the best. The best things change constantly as our family evolves.
I have learned that life really is about the little things--whatever those little things are. Each of our lives need different little things, with the major anchors the same.
Under that microscope of widowhood, I often feel guilty. I feel guilty because there are those out there who "deserve" more or "better" out of life--more than what I have. I feel guilty for the blessings I have and I feel this sense that I can't possibly express my gratitude fully. I don't know if I will ever get over this. I beat myself up about it for no real reason. It's an illogical guilt, but guilt nonetheless.
That said, I have learned that for my sanity and that of my children, one of the "little things" we need is enough living space--so we can all breathe a bit easier. I KNOW this. And I'm working on a solution for that problem.
I guess it is the other little things that I'm trying to figure out. What is "enough" for me?
When it gets right down to it, I realize that for me to feel like a human--a living breathing productive human--I need to be a mother AND a wife. Need. Yep. I don't care what judgement I get for sounding dependent on a man. I need it. I need to love someone and I need love in return. I need both. When the rest of the worries and trials of the day are over, I need to be in the arms of a man. I can't be this unisex robot shell of a person forever. It is just that simple. Every night when the kids finally go to bed, it isn't a state of depression I feel. It is this feeling that something is missing. It goes beyond missing Adam's presence. It is the presence of a companion. I've had enough of life without one. It stinks. I feel guilty for wishing that I didn't already know what exactly I'm missing, because then I wouldn't long for what this companionship means.
It is silly, really. I know what I have to do to get there. I just don't know how to split my time so there's enough of me to make time for that to happen. It will require a lot of work. More work than I have ever devoted, I'm positive.
I hear stories of widows who know right away that they need to actively seek out a husband--and a father for their children--and go on a quest to find such a man. I haven't felt the push to do that previously, but I'm starting to see that making more sense. Which is weird, given my realization that I'm not quite done with Omaha. I feel the need to be here still, that I have more work to do here.
I think Heavenly Father is starting to understand that I really am pulled as many ways as one can possibly be pulled. While nothing will ever feel "enough," I know that somehow He knows my heart. I was pondering tonight on the scripture where Christ says, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." We are commanded to be perfect, but like all commandments that we are given, we are given a way--the Savior--by which we may become perfect. In essence, we are given that "enough."
I want to have the faith that my honest "enough" will BE enough. I need to FEEL it.
Maybe I want too much. Maybe it is unreasonable. I waver back and forth on whether it is actually possible to do all the things that I feel are necessary in my life and the lives of the boys. We only have 24 hours in a day, and 1/3 of that time is spent at work and 1/3 of that time is spent sleeping. Or in unproductive sleep, as my case may be.
I still dream of Adam. A lot. Weird real-life dreams. They're partially comforting and partially disturbing. Equally disturbing are the people that recur in my dreams. I can honestly say that I've had enough of that. I am ready for peaceful dreams. Hopeful insight. Perspective.
Somehow I think if I can honestly say I'm not doing things half-baked, then my enough will be ok. I just have to believe.
On the topic of Believing. This was my favorite conference talk. I have watched it several times. So much to learn. So much that my heart needs to absorb.
What exactly is "enough?"
I say the phrase a lot, "I've had ENOUGH." Every time I say it, I TOTALLY mean it.
There's this story that my family tells. You know, it's one of those catch phrases that families sometimes have? This one is rooted in a family night lesson that my mom taught us when we were kids. There was this nice story of this man who was making a cake. He hurried through baking it and decided not to put eggs and some of the other ingredients in, just because he wanted it to be finished quickly. Of course, his finished cake turned out nasty. Inedible. Gross. Half-baked. This is why we use the term "half-baked" in my family. "Quit doing things half-baked." My mom used this on us kids, and I use it on my kids.
So I get that we can't go through life half-baked or doing things halfway.
But what exactly is ENOUGH.
What is enough scripture study? What is enough patience? What is enough learning? What is enough space for my children? What is enough stress? What is enough service? What is enough happiness? What is enough growth? I really don't know.
There is a constant tug of war in our lives of using our time on the best activities, instead of the good or better. What I haven't figured out is what exactly is the best. The best things change constantly as our family evolves.
I have learned that life really is about the little things--whatever those little things are. Each of our lives need different little things, with the major anchors the same.
Under that microscope of widowhood, I often feel guilty. I feel guilty because there are those out there who "deserve" more or "better" out of life--more than what I have. I feel guilty for the blessings I have and I feel this sense that I can't possibly express my gratitude fully. I don't know if I will ever get over this. I beat myself up about it for no real reason. It's an illogical guilt, but guilt nonetheless.
That said, I have learned that for my sanity and that of my children, one of the "little things" we need is enough living space--so we can all breathe a bit easier. I KNOW this. And I'm working on a solution for that problem.
I guess it is the other little things that I'm trying to figure out. What is "enough" for me?
When it gets right down to it, I realize that for me to feel like a human--a living breathing productive human--I need to be a mother AND a wife. Need. Yep. I don't care what judgement I get for sounding dependent on a man. I need it. I need to love someone and I need love in return. I need both. When the rest of the worries and trials of the day are over, I need to be in the arms of a man. I can't be this unisex robot shell of a person forever. It is just that simple. Every night when the kids finally go to bed, it isn't a state of depression I feel. It is this feeling that something is missing. It goes beyond missing Adam's presence. It is the presence of a companion. I've had enough of life without one. It stinks. I feel guilty for wishing that I didn't already know what exactly I'm missing, because then I wouldn't long for what this companionship means.
It is silly, really. I know what I have to do to get there. I just don't know how to split my time so there's enough of me to make time for that to happen. It will require a lot of work. More work than I have ever devoted, I'm positive.
I hear stories of widows who know right away that they need to actively seek out a husband--and a father for their children--and go on a quest to find such a man. I haven't felt the push to do that previously, but I'm starting to see that making more sense. Which is weird, given my realization that I'm not quite done with Omaha. I feel the need to be here still, that I have more work to do here.
I think Heavenly Father is starting to understand that I really am pulled as many ways as one can possibly be pulled. While nothing will ever feel "enough," I know that somehow He knows my heart. I was pondering tonight on the scripture where Christ says, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." We are commanded to be perfect, but like all commandments that we are given, we are given a way--the Savior--by which we may become perfect. In essence, we are given that "enough."
I want to have the faith that my honest "enough" will BE enough. I need to FEEL it.
Maybe I want too much. Maybe it is unreasonable. I waver back and forth on whether it is actually possible to do all the things that I feel are necessary in my life and the lives of the boys. We only have 24 hours in a day, and 1/3 of that time is spent at work and 1/3 of that time is spent sleeping. Or in unproductive sleep, as my case may be.
I still dream of Adam. A lot. Weird real-life dreams. They're partially comforting and partially disturbing. Equally disturbing are the people that recur in my dreams. I can honestly say that I've had enough of that. I am ready for peaceful dreams. Hopeful insight. Perspective.
Somehow I think if I can honestly say I'm not doing things half-baked, then my enough will be ok. I just have to believe.
On the topic of Believing. This was my favorite conference talk. I have watched it several times. So much to learn. So much that my heart needs to absorb.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Coconuts and Easter
When I attended my most recent LDS young widows and widowers conference a few weeks ago, someone there asked me how I can continue doing my nightly "daddy stories" with the boys--or more specifically, how do I come up with different "new" stories. While there are some stories that are repeated fairly often (camping trips and Disneyland trips are some of those that the boys ask me for rather frequently...), I guess it is my strange brain that stores a lot of long term memories that comes up with new stories that are a bit dusty. For that, I'm grateful.
Tonight, as part of our Easter festivities, I decided to make a bunny cake with the boys. They thought this was pretty fabulous. We got out some coconut for the ears of the bunny, and as we started talking about what an actual coconut is like, I remembered an experience with Adam. Of course.
When Adam started applying for residency programs, knowing that he would be doing a lot of traveling, he was smart and got a special points credit card that basically gave us a lot of hook ups. We paid bills with this card and would just pay it off monthly simply to rack up points. When we bought our house, we went through the card's company that hooked us up with a realtor here. In the end, we "earned" ourselves a free stay at a Hilton resort by using this card. We decided on a trip to Barbados.
Being settled by the British, in Barbados they drive on the left side of the road and the driver's seat is on the right side of cars. We (ok, Adam) rented a car anyway (what a rush!) and drove ALL OVER that island. We read books about all the the hidden places and best beaches. We went everywhere. It really was a trip of a lifetime. And since I was 8 or so weeks pregnant was Carson, I suppose he got to travel with us!
One day, we got up early and drove to this one beach that was supposed to be the best kept secret. It was gorgeous. I have pictures that don't do the place justice. I've never seen anything like it elsewhere. The most white beach and the most aqua water ever. Giant tall palm trees. It was this little cove, like a little hideout. But. A few minutes after we arrived, there was a "local" that showed up. All of a sudden he started digging, sort of like a dog would do, throwing back sand between his legs behind him. We were very puzzled, watching this, trying to figure out what he was digging for. Then all of a sudden, out came a giant conch shell out of the ground. He had hidden it there and was selling it at a stand that he had started up the hill where we had parked our car (we bought a mini-sized one to take home before our trip was done). Then he started gathering coconuts. As we lay under these giant palm trees, we saw a coconut drop within probably 25 feet from us from the top of one of these trees. It startled us and we joked the rest of the day how that would've been a weird way to die--by a coconut.
I always look at coconut differently now.
Barbados was one of my favorite times with Adam. I'm grateful we took the time to nurture our relationship and gave it the time to strengthen and grow. In some strange way that I can't really verbalize, I feel our relationship growing stronger since his passing. Sort of an absolute strength that means much more eternally to me.
On this Easter day, I reflect on the gratitude that I have for my Savior Jesus Christ. I thought I understood the atonement and His resurrection before Adam died. But now I feel this absolute dependence on the Savior and understanding that surpasses what I knew then. Having my eternal companion on the other side creates this dependence on the Savior that somehow completes my understanding of the WHY for our need for the Savior. He is about repentance. But He is about families. It is God's way and design that we are to be an eternal unit. It is His ultimate love that allows us this blessing and it is why we are designed to be in family units. We are not complete without the binding that links us fully to God. Today I am grateful for the resurrection of the Savior and the reminder that I need to keep trying, to try anew each day to do and be better. It is probably a good thing that I'm never fully satisfied with my life--the need to make constant progress is important. However, stopping to acknowledge the random coconuts and things that we have no control over is important in this progression in life.
Tonight, as part of our Easter festivities, I decided to make a bunny cake with the boys. They thought this was pretty fabulous. We got out some coconut for the ears of the bunny, and as we started talking about what an actual coconut is like, I remembered an experience with Adam. Of course.
When Adam started applying for residency programs, knowing that he would be doing a lot of traveling, he was smart and got a special points credit card that basically gave us a lot of hook ups. We paid bills with this card and would just pay it off monthly simply to rack up points. When we bought our house, we went through the card's company that hooked us up with a realtor here. In the end, we "earned" ourselves a free stay at a Hilton resort by using this card. We decided on a trip to Barbados.
Being settled by the British, in Barbados they drive on the left side of the road and the driver's seat is on the right side of cars. We (ok, Adam) rented a car anyway (what a rush!) and drove ALL OVER that island. We read books about all the the hidden places and best beaches. We went everywhere. It really was a trip of a lifetime. And since I was 8 or so weeks pregnant was Carson, I suppose he got to travel with us!
One day, we got up early and drove to this one beach that was supposed to be the best kept secret. It was gorgeous. I have pictures that don't do the place justice. I've never seen anything like it elsewhere. The most white beach and the most aqua water ever. Giant tall palm trees. It was this little cove, like a little hideout. But. A few minutes after we arrived, there was a "local" that showed up. All of a sudden he started digging, sort of like a dog would do, throwing back sand between his legs behind him. We were very puzzled, watching this, trying to figure out what he was digging for. Then all of a sudden, out came a giant conch shell out of the ground. He had hidden it there and was selling it at a stand that he had started up the hill where we had parked our car (we bought a mini-sized one to take home before our trip was done). Then he started gathering coconuts. As we lay under these giant palm trees, we saw a coconut drop within probably 25 feet from us from the top of one of these trees. It startled us and we joked the rest of the day how that would've been a weird way to die--by a coconut.
I always look at coconut differently now.
Barbados was one of my favorite times with Adam. I'm grateful we took the time to nurture our relationship and gave it the time to strengthen and grow. In some strange way that I can't really verbalize, I feel our relationship growing stronger since his passing. Sort of an absolute strength that means much more eternally to me.
On this Easter day, I reflect on the gratitude that I have for my Savior Jesus Christ. I thought I understood the atonement and His resurrection before Adam died. But now I feel this absolute dependence on the Savior and understanding that surpasses what I knew then. Having my eternal companion on the other side creates this dependence on the Savior that somehow completes my understanding of the WHY for our need for the Savior. He is about repentance. But He is about families. It is God's way and design that we are to be an eternal unit. It is His ultimate love that allows us this blessing and it is why we are designed to be in family units. We are not complete without the binding that links us fully to God. Today I am grateful for the resurrection of the Savior and the reminder that I need to keep trying, to try anew each day to do and be better. It is probably a good thing that I'm never fully satisfied with my life--the need to make constant progress is important. However, stopping to acknowledge the random coconuts and things that we have no control over is important in this progression in life.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Like Diamonds in the Sky
And just like that, things "feel" right. I have to bask in this moment a little longer tonight. I need to write, lest I forget it. How quickly, SO quickly I forget. I hate that.
I have stressed about today for a very long time. I emailed the realtor who helped us when we bought this house. Or rather, I wrote him a very long email right before heading out the door last week, right before work. I hit "send" and the email deleted--it wouldn't go through and I couldn't recover my email. I was so sad and mad, and I headed off to work. The next day (when we had a snow day) I called this realtor and left him a message. I wasn't sure if he'd remember me from when we bought our house. Adam had just received word that he "matched" here in Omaha for his internal medicine year and subsequent radiology residency. I had just gotten my first job after nursing school and was working nights at the hospital. And we had little Justin. He was three. Wow, how life can change--completely--in 6 years.
I wasn't sure if Charlie would've known what happened to Adam. I wasn't sure if he watched the news. I mean, I don't have near as much time to pay attention to local happenings now that I'm working--so I am well aware that many have never heard of "us"--why would he?! It's logical.
When I left the message on his phone, I didn't say anything about the lack of Adam, my widowhood, etc. I only tried to jog his memory and mention that he sold us this home in this neighborhood years ago.
So the realtor called back. And it was the first thing he mentioned and he said how sorry he was. He said he was tearing up. He knew.
I had him over tonight to walk through our house. I don't think I've been this nervous about our house. Ever. I have three little monkeys who have been un-doing every bit of work I have been trying to attempt. But I worked steadily through the snow days and weekend and (except for my garage, which will be tackled this weekend) somehow with the Lord's help, I got this house ready. I staged it. I pared it down to the bare bones. I cleaned the basement and all the rooms. I thought I was going to jump off a cliff last night, as I was losing hope that it was possible, but I did it.
No. We did it. I have no doubt that I had help from the other side.
I met with this realtor and I knew over the course of our hour-long discussion that he was the right choice. I am grateful for the peace I feel. Finally some peace. I was starting to wonder if it would ever come.
As I was sitting down reading the boys their story and then telling them their daddy story tonight, we ended up with a discussion that touched my heart. I was telling them about what daddy wanted for them to be happy--to have the space to grow and run and be the best little boys that they can be, to learn all that they can, to love the Lord, and to serve others as Christ would. Spencer stopped during this discussion and told me that my friend told him that there are streets made of gold in heaven. This made me smile. I asked the boys what is more important than all the gold in the world, more important to me than golden streets in heaven. They thought about this for a moment, and then I told Spencer that our family and the ability to be together forever, sealed together forever, is more important to me than all the gold in heaven. The boys liked this and then Carson piped up "Diamonds?" I told him that yes, more important than diamonds. But then I realized that in a way we are very much like diamonds. This brought one more thought to my mind.
I heard an analogy Sunday that has been brought to mind mind several times since I heard it. It clearly was what I needed to hear at church. A woman at church brought up the idea of pressure--the amount of pressure and patience and time that is required to make diamonds. SO. Much. Pressure. I am learning that so much in our lives is just that--the refining fire that creates diamonds. We probably won't recognize the process and completely understand the change that is occurring, but I pray that the end result will be diamonds. For us individually, as eternal companions, as companions on earth, and as families. Somehow we will be diamonds someday. I just have to endure the pressures and stop periodically to glance at the progress that we are making.
I have stressed about today for a very long time. I emailed the realtor who helped us when we bought this house. Or rather, I wrote him a very long email right before heading out the door last week, right before work. I hit "send" and the email deleted--it wouldn't go through and I couldn't recover my email. I was so sad and mad, and I headed off to work. The next day (when we had a snow day) I called this realtor and left him a message. I wasn't sure if he'd remember me from when we bought our house. Adam had just received word that he "matched" here in Omaha for his internal medicine year and subsequent radiology residency. I had just gotten my first job after nursing school and was working nights at the hospital. And we had little Justin. He was three. Wow, how life can change--completely--in 6 years.
I wasn't sure if Charlie would've known what happened to Adam. I wasn't sure if he watched the news. I mean, I don't have near as much time to pay attention to local happenings now that I'm working--so I am well aware that many have never heard of "us"--why would he?! It's logical.
When I left the message on his phone, I didn't say anything about the lack of Adam, my widowhood, etc. I only tried to jog his memory and mention that he sold us this home in this neighborhood years ago.
So the realtor called back. And it was the first thing he mentioned and he said how sorry he was. He said he was tearing up. He knew.
I had him over tonight to walk through our house. I don't think I've been this nervous about our house. Ever. I have three little monkeys who have been un-doing every bit of work I have been trying to attempt. But I worked steadily through the snow days and weekend and (except for my garage, which will be tackled this weekend) somehow with the Lord's help, I got this house ready. I staged it. I pared it down to the bare bones. I cleaned the basement and all the rooms. I thought I was going to jump off a cliff last night, as I was losing hope that it was possible, but I did it.
No. We did it. I have no doubt that I had help from the other side.
I met with this realtor and I knew over the course of our hour-long discussion that he was the right choice. I am grateful for the peace I feel. Finally some peace. I was starting to wonder if it would ever come.
As I was sitting down reading the boys their story and then telling them their daddy story tonight, we ended up with a discussion that touched my heart. I was telling them about what daddy wanted for them to be happy--to have the space to grow and run and be the best little boys that they can be, to learn all that they can, to love the Lord, and to serve others as Christ would. Spencer stopped during this discussion and told me that my friend told him that there are streets made of gold in heaven. This made me smile. I asked the boys what is more important than all the gold in the world, more important to me than golden streets in heaven. They thought about this for a moment, and then I told Spencer that our family and the ability to be together forever, sealed together forever, is more important to me than all the gold in heaven. The boys liked this and then Carson piped up "Diamonds?" I told him that yes, more important than diamonds. But then I realized that in a way we are very much like diamonds. This brought one more thought to my mind.
I heard an analogy Sunday that has been brought to mind mind several times since I heard it. It clearly was what I needed to hear at church. A woman at church brought up the idea of pressure--the amount of pressure and patience and time that is required to make diamonds. SO. Much. Pressure. I am learning that so much in our lives is just that--the refining fire that creates diamonds. We probably won't recognize the process and completely understand the change that is occurring, but I pray that the end result will be diamonds. For us individually, as eternal companions, as companions on earth, and as families. Somehow we will be diamonds someday. I just have to endure the pressures and stop periodically to glance at the progress that we are making.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Just a Wednesday
I find some days are simply ridiculous to try to find joy. I know--more than any point in my life--that Satan is working as hard as he possibly can to tear me down right now because in so many ways I am at rock bottom. Even though I can acknowledge it, it doesn't lessen the burden I feel right now.
It doesn't help that Carson NEVER wants me to pick him up when I send him to childcare with my friends, whether it be when I'm at work, or just completing business where he needs a sitter. I think that hit me way too hard today. It was the final straw in my day, that he would cry and throw a tantrum about not wanting to go home with me. Enough. I'm so tired of mothering and breaking up fights.
Justin's 5th grade teacher happened to catch all three boys wrestling in the 10 minutes we were in her room for parent/teacher conferences yesterday. It was great. The second parent/teacher conference with Spencer's teacher was worse as the kids tore her room apart in 2 minutes flat. Nightmare.
I want to quit work, but know that would be a very foolish decision. I don't have the luxury of trying to pinch pennies while a husband provides for our family. I have to work, my kids (and I) have to have health insurance, and I need other insurance and planning for a future...my own, and my boys' future. I hate that I have to be responsible.
That said, I know what I need to do. I'm praying it all comes together quickly and "easily." Easy is a dumb thing to pray for...since life is NOT easy for anyone. But I just need something to go right. My brain really can't stand much more stress.
In between gathering paperwork for this next step in my life, I had to take a break tonight. I knew that I'd already almost finished photocopying all the papers necessary, but I just couldn't bear to do it any longer. I think this same mentality is the case for every bit of cleaning and organizing in my house. I just can't sit and focus. Too much pressure, and too much aloneness goes through my head. I watched part of Happy Gilmore, had to laugh at the part where Adam Sandler (Ha. It just occurred to me. No wonder Adam liked him....They share a first name. Figures.) whacks a golf ball through a window, hits a guy in the head, and then hits a woman in an upstairs window in the head with a ball and she falls out the window. I needed that laugh. It felt great. Then I finished my paperwork task. Yay. Hopefully I can turn it all in tomorrow. Whew.
Now I'm on to my next task. Spencer asked exactly a month ago when I was going to blow up balloons for Valentine's Day so we could have our balloon popping party. He was very worried that since I'm now working that there would be no way for him to come home from school with balloons scattered everywhere. So I will alter our tradition slightly. But balloons there will be. All three are *FINALLY* asleep. I'm off to blow up a hundred or so red, pink, and white balloons. Cross your fingers that I don't pass out in the process!
It doesn't help that Carson NEVER wants me to pick him up when I send him to childcare with my friends, whether it be when I'm at work, or just completing business where he needs a sitter. I think that hit me way too hard today. It was the final straw in my day, that he would cry and throw a tantrum about not wanting to go home with me. Enough. I'm so tired of mothering and breaking up fights.
Justin's 5th grade teacher happened to catch all three boys wrestling in the 10 minutes we were in her room for parent/teacher conferences yesterday. It was great. The second parent/teacher conference with Spencer's teacher was worse as the kids tore her room apart in 2 minutes flat. Nightmare.
I want to quit work, but know that would be a very foolish decision. I don't have the luxury of trying to pinch pennies while a husband provides for our family. I have to work, my kids (and I) have to have health insurance, and I need other insurance and planning for a future...my own, and my boys' future. I hate that I have to be responsible.
That said, I know what I need to do. I'm praying it all comes together quickly and "easily." Easy is a dumb thing to pray for...since life is NOT easy for anyone. But I just need something to go right. My brain really can't stand much more stress.
In between gathering paperwork for this next step in my life, I had to take a break tonight. I knew that I'd already almost finished photocopying all the papers necessary, but I just couldn't bear to do it any longer. I think this same mentality is the case for every bit of cleaning and organizing in my house. I just can't sit and focus. Too much pressure, and too much aloneness goes through my head. I watched part of Happy Gilmore, had to laugh at the part where Adam Sandler (Ha. It just occurred to me. No wonder Adam liked him....They share a first name. Figures.) whacks a golf ball through a window, hits a guy in the head, and then hits a woman in an upstairs window in the head with a ball and she falls out the window. I needed that laugh. It felt great. Then I finished my paperwork task. Yay. Hopefully I can turn it all in tomorrow. Whew.
Now I'm on to my next task. Spencer asked exactly a month ago when I was going to blow up balloons for Valentine's Day so we could have our balloon popping party. He was very worried that since I'm now working that there would be no way for him to come home from school with balloons scattered everywhere. So I will alter our tradition slightly. But balloons there will be. All three are *FINALLY* asleep. I'm off to blow up a hundred or so red, pink, and white balloons. Cross your fingers that I don't pass out in the process!
Monday, February 11, 2013
The Difference
"The difference between who you are and who you want to be is what you DO. And what you have to do to get where you want to be may not be pretty or may not come easy."
I saw this quote tonight and decided it rings true. Every day my mom hears me comment on my life. And whine. And everyday I have a new solution--usually a non-solution. And everytime (lately) she has been saying, "Well, I'm glad you have things all figured out. I'm glad you've made some decisions." And everyday I laugh at her sincerity...and sarcasm. ARGH.
What I WANT (this week):
1. To stay home with Carson until he goes to kindergarten, but not worry about how to get health insurance. (Won't happen)
2. To somehow handle getting my house ready to sell and getting the perfect house that will work for our family (In the works. Might happen. I have a very teeny bit of faith in this happening).
3. To have an easy life. (WON'T happen. That needs to be underlined because I need to stop dreaming for such impossible nonsense.)
4. To be successful at a DNP/NP program (Could happen. Maybe. If I stop my intense self-doubt).
5. To lose weight. To run. (Not sure I have what it takes to make this happen. Namely, the supportive husband that gave me a reason to try. It sounds ridiculously dependent, but I felt so much more purposeful as a human being with him by my side. Sigh.).
Basically, I don't have faith that what I want can actually happen. Maybe it can't. I'm working on training my brain, but I feel a bit like I'm creating more self-doubt as time goes on. Not sure how to fix that. That's where I am today.
I saw this quote tonight and decided it rings true. Every day my mom hears me comment on my life. And whine. And everyday I have a new solution--usually a non-solution. And everytime (lately) she has been saying, "Well, I'm glad you have things all figured out. I'm glad you've made some decisions." And everyday I laugh at her sincerity...and sarcasm. ARGH.
What I WANT (this week):
1. To stay home with Carson until he goes to kindergarten, but not worry about how to get health insurance. (Won't happen)
2. To somehow handle getting my house ready to sell and getting the perfect house that will work for our family (In the works. Might happen. I have a very teeny bit of faith in this happening).
3. To have an easy life. (WON'T happen. That needs to be underlined because I need to stop dreaming for such impossible nonsense.)
4. To be successful at a DNP/NP program (Could happen. Maybe. If I stop my intense self-doubt).
5. To lose weight. To run. (Not sure I have what it takes to make this happen. Namely, the supportive husband that gave me a reason to try. It sounds ridiculously dependent, but I felt so much more purposeful as a human being with him by my side. Sigh.).
Basically, I don't have faith that what I want can actually happen. Maybe it can't. I'm working on training my brain, but I feel a bit like I'm creating more self-doubt as time goes on. Not sure how to fix that. That's where I am today.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
A Wednesday
Whoa. I can tell it's going to be a tough day already. Carson was up overnight for an extended period of time. Ugh. I hit the snooze button today and then took my shower. None of the kids jumped out of bed and ran in my bathroom interrupting my shower as is usual. They are tired. So am I.
Spencer did run in, however, after I had wrapped myself in a towel and said that he was getting in the shower. I asked Spencer what he was doing while I took my shower (since he is a very light sleeper and always wakes up when he hears the water turn on) and he said, "Oh, just relaxing in my bed." I thought it was cute, until what he said next came out of his mouth. "I was thinking about all the things that I can't do with Daddy." I told him to list them. He said, "I can't go to the ice cream store with Daddy." I told him that I could take him instead. "I can't wrestle with Daddy." I told him that Heavenly Father gave him two brothers to wrestle with and other people like Collin (our teenage home teacher) to wrestle and play with. I did this for everything he listed. Ugh. I know it's hard for him. It's hard for me. It just shows that it doesn't matter if your dad died when you were 2 or 82. Losing a dad is tough.
Spencer did run in, however, after I had wrapped myself in a towel and said that he was getting in the shower. I asked Spencer what he was doing while I took my shower (since he is a very light sleeper and always wakes up when he hears the water turn on) and he said, "Oh, just relaxing in my bed." I thought it was cute, until what he said next came out of his mouth. "I was thinking about all the things that I can't do with Daddy." I told him to list them. He said, "I can't go to the ice cream store with Daddy." I told him that I could take him instead. "I can't wrestle with Daddy." I told him that Heavenly Father gave him two brothers to wrestle with and other people like Collin (our teenage home teacher) to wrestle and play with. I did this for everything he listed. Ugh. I know it's hard for him. It's hard for me. It just shows that it doesn't matter if your dad died when you were 2 or 82. Losing a dad is tough.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A Real Answer
I feel like when real, obvious answers to prayers are received, it is important that those answers are written down. It is way too easy to question or forget when real impressions are received.
I think I simply haven't wanted the answer that I received to one of my problems, one of my major stumbling blocks.
I woke up two days with the answer clear as day. "Stop that!" was the exact phrase. Now the hard part is actually following through. When we rely on certain things as a safe place to escape the realities and difficulties of the world, yet we know we are not helping ourselves progress...it is simply tough to follow through with the counsel of "stop that." Argh. But I know it is right. So now to figure out how. Next step in the process. Seriously, life is way too complicated. But I guess I should be grateful to receive an answer to my many prayers. So I will.
I think I simply haven't wanted the answer that I received to one of my problems, one of my major stumbling blocks.
I woke up two days with the answer clear as day. "Stop that!" was the exact phrase. Now the hard part is actually following through. When we rely on certain things as a safe place to escape the realities and difficulties of the world, yet we know we are not helping ourselves progress...it is simply tough to follow through with the counsel of "stop that." Argh. But I know it is right. So now to figure out how. Next step in the process. Seriously, life is way too complicated. But I guess I should be grateful to receive an answer to my many prayers. So I will.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
ANGER
In my quest to further dissect my grief and attempt to move forward, I was reading some online how-tos (aimed at grief therapists) for grief counseling. Isn't it nice that every bit of info on the planet is at our fingertips in a matter of seconds. It scares me a bit sometimes.
I started through the usual list of steps of grief (I still get really annoyed at those...as though they are accurate. One cannot summarize it ALL in those few grief categories. BLAH!) to see what part of those I want to focus on this week. Anger is what came up. I really haven't been angry at Jason for a very long time. Not that I'm happy with him, mind you, but I've had other anger issues to deal with that plague my mind.
I don't like that I'm so mad at Adam, but I am. I have to be honest. He left me with so much junk to deal with. I often wonder if roles were reversed, if he would have near the amount of junk to do as I do if I had been the one who died. I don't think he would. Partially because of gender roles and partially because...well, he simply left me with a pile of crap to figure out. And since I'm in the middle of potty training his 3rd child, I mean that quite literally as well as figuratively.
"You may feel hurt or frustrated with the situation, because you cannot change it," said one website.
Yep. That is totally what summarizes my anger issues. I CAN'T change it. And I don't want to accept it. So I'm simply stuck until I can choose to accept it. There is a giant pile of unfinished business between me and Adam. I don't know that I will ever feel ok with some of the issues he left me to deal with. It's a fact. So I guess I am still angry.
In life we are taught coping mechanisms--ways to deal with things. Through the past 2 1/2 years, I have done different things to cope with my anger. Some good, some not. I've weight lifted, done kick boxing, step aerobics, water aerobics. I've yelled and screamed. Lately the only thing that I've been able to do with any sort of frequency is yelling and banging on the walls of my shower when I need a good hot showered screaming and crying fit. I hate that I'm generally yelling at Adam, but at the same time....I'm DANG mad at him. So mad.
One of my friends bought me a pink punching bag for my birthday. It was one of the highlights of my birthday because it made me laugh AND made me feel better. I need more laughter. I need a funny man in my life to refer to when I need a good laugh.
I think the overriding anger above all stems from feeling so let down by him. Like he didn't keep his end of our promises to each other. I know that somehow it will all work out eventually, but for now it doesn't make sense and I don't see any potential for happiness now. NOW. I want to be happy NOW. No, I don't need to be a bazillionare like we would've been now. Instead I just want to live a happy life. I want to have someone to love...and be loved in return. It is the love that only a husband and wife know. And I guess I feel a little desperate and panicky--I am well aware that it may never happen again. It is reality.
AND SO....I'm MAD. FURIOUS. ANGRY. SPITTING FIRE BALLS. And I need a thesaurus to further explain my fury. I'm so mad that I don't have the words. I'm going to see what progress I can make this week on anger.
I started through the usual list of steps of grief (I still get really annoyed at those...as though they are accurate. One cannot summarize it ALL in those few grief categories. BLAH!) to see what part of those I want to focus on this week. Anger is what came up. I really haven't been angry at Jason for a very long time. Not that I'm happy with him, mind you, but I've had other anger issues to deal with that plague my mind.
I don't like that I'm so mad at Adam, but I am. I have to be honest. He left me with so much junk to deal with. I often wonder if roles were reversed, if he would have near the amount of junk to do as I do if I had been the one who died. I don't think he would. Partially because of gender roles and partially because...well, he simply left me with a pile of crap to figure out. And since I'm in the middle of potty training his 3rd child, I mean that quite literally as well as figuratively.
"You may feel hurt or frustrated with the situation, because you cannot change it," said one website.
Yep. That is totally what summarizes my anger issues. I CAN'T change it. And I don't want to accept it. So I'm simply stuck until I can choose to accept it. There is a giant pile of unfinished business between me and Adam. I don't know that I will ever feel ok with some of the issues he left me to deal with. It's a fact. So I guess I am still angry.
In life we are taught coping mechanisms--ways to deal with things. Through the past 2 1/2 years, I have done different things to cope with my anger. Some good, some not. I've weight lifted, done kick boxing, step aerobics, water aerobics. I've yelled and screamed. Lately the only thing that I've been able to do with any sort of frequency is yelling and banging on the walls of my shower when I need a good hot showered screaming and crying fit. I hate that I'm generally yelling at Adam, but at the same time....I'm DANG mad at him. So mad.
One of my friends bought me a pink punching bag for my birthday. It was one of the highlights of my birthday because it made me laugh AND made me feel better. I need more laughter. I need a funny man in my life to refer to when I need a good laugh.
I think the overriding anger above all stems from feeling so let down by him. Like he didn't keep his end of our promises to each other. I know that somehow it will all work out eventually, but for now it doesn't make sense and I don't see any potential for happiness now. NOW. I want to be happy NOW. No, I don't need to be a bazillionare like we would've been now. Instead I just want to live a happy life. I want to have someone to love...and be loved in return. It is the love that only a husband and wife know. And I guess I feel a little desperate and panicky--I am well aware that it may never happen again. It is reality.
AND SO....I'm MAD. FURIOUS. ANGRY. SPITTING FIRE BALLS. And I need a thesaurus to further explain my fury. I'm so mad that I don't have the words. I'm going to see what progress I can make this week on anger.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Twisted
In my twisted sense of humor, tonight I've been thinking about the odd, crazy comments I have experienced over widowhood. The two that top the past month or so include someone at work saying something about my being happily married (which begged the comment from me about how I WAS happily married before being widowed 2 1/2 years ago), and then the other was from someone at church, who doesn't really know me, asking where my husband was and why he couldn't watch my kids (as I was playing the organ prelude music with two of my kids hanging on me). That one was bad because I was so stunned that I had to ask her to repeat the question while I tried to comprehend the question again. I then very bluntly told her that my husband was dead. And tears ensued--from me. It is interesting how life experience just simply comes up in conversation. I now wonder how many times I have offended other people from stupid commentary of my own. Probably daily, because I'm just that dense. It teaches me how I have soooo much patience and tolerance to learn. So much.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Between The Raindrops
Watching how others grieve has been interesting from the perspective of a widow. As a cancer nurse for 4 1/2 years I watched many people grieve--or at least prepare to fully grieve. I realize now that watching a loved one as they are preparing for death is a very different thing than actually grieving when a death occurs. They are two very separate sets of emotions, even if they are tied together.
I have watched many widow friends grieve. We all have opinions about grief, but I think the general consensus is that we all do what we have to do--just because we have to cope in whatever way necessary. We don't always agree on how to grieve. It is dumb that we judge so much.
One of my widow friends lately has talked about grief in the past tense--as though she considers herself "cured" or "done" grieving to a degree. I'll admit that this bugs me some because I almost feel a sense of judgement in her tone, as thought she thinks that it is necessary to abandon her "old" life so that she can move forward. I guess it bothers me because I feel like the new me will always be intertwined with the old me. I don't think I have to let go of all my past in order to be hopeful for my future. I think where my definition of "letting go" is different than hers is that I believe that I need to somehow not utterly long for the old me, the old life, that "what was" and "what would've been." THAT is what I have to come to terms with or to let be in the past. I still don't really know how to do that. I've considered therapy. But I have determined that no therapist can help me let go of those things. That is for me to decide I suppose. And I believe the reasons I don't want to let go of those woulda-couldas is that they help me be happy sometimes, when nothing else seems to do the trick.
Tonight I was watching tv after I put the kids to bed. A show was on and a newly married couple held hands. In that brief screen shot I was taken back to a million different settings, a million different times I held Adam's hands in mine. I could feel them. I could feel the scar on his thumb, his wedding ring as it rubbed my fingers while it was on his finger, in my hand. And for one very brief moment it took my breath away and gave me peace.
And then it broke my heart. I long for him in ways that only my heart can define, for there are no words.
And yet, then I simply longed for that kind of love again. It was a strange mix of emotions. It helped me know that somehow it is possible to have love in my life again, even if the logic still doesn't make sense that someone can love two people at the same time. I see that it is possible. And I don't want to let go of him forever. I want both.
I've worn Adam's ring on and off lately. I probably really shouldn't. It is so giant for even my thumb. But there's just something about the feel and the sound and the temperature of that ring that brings me to happy times.
The "get real" side of me thinks that maybe it is simply because I've been struggling with so much that I literally have to bring my brain to a different space in time to feel peace. That is the reality. I long for the peace I felt with him, but because I feel more complete, knowing what I do now, I long for a more complete peace in my life. I long for the comforts that our relationship held, but someone else to learn from and grow with. Because I really need to grow. My heart needs growth.
And then I get fearful. That it'll never happen. Or that I'm not doing the right things to make sure I'm putting myself on the right path to find the right person in this "second of firsts."
I want to have faith and hope. I do. Some days just feel so incredibly thankless, with no one to cuddle up and to share our mutual woes and mutual joys. And laughter. I may miss that most of all right now.
How long must I do this? I hear someone else's words echo similarly when I say and think this thought daily. All I can do is pray that I can continue on, that I have the faith to do so, and that I can trust Heavenly Father's plan for me. I know He has one. I just wonder what else He plans to stick on my path if this is where the past 32 years has routed me.
I have loved hearing this song lately. I broke out the video tonight. I think it is something about the two white horses in this video that hold more symbolism to me...along with symbolism in the words to this song.
I have watched many widow friends grieve. We all have opinions about grief, but I think the general consensus is that we all do what we have to do--just because we have to cope in whatever way necessary. We don't always agree on how to grieve. It is dumb that we judge so much.
One of my widow friends lately has talked about grief in the past tense--as though she considers herself "cured" or "done" grieving to a degree. I'll admit that this bugs me some because I almost feel a sense of judgement in her tone, as thought she thinks that it is necessary to abandon her "old" life so that she can move forward. I guess it bothers me because I feel like the new me will always be intertwined with the old me. I don't think I have to let go of all my past in order to be hopeful for my future. I think where my definition of "letting go" is different than hers is that I believe that I need to somehow not utterly long for the old me, the old life, that "what was" and "what would've been." THAT is what I have to come to terms with or to let be in the past. I still don't really know how to do that. I've considered therapy. But I have determined that no therapist can help me let go of those things. That is for me to decide I suppose. And I believe the reasons I don't want to let go of those woulda-couldas is that they help me be happy sometimes, when nothing else seems to do the trick.
Tonight I was watching tv after I put the kids to bed. A show was on and a newly married couple held hands. In that brief screen shot I was taken back to a million different settings, a million different times I held Adam's hands in mine. I could feel them. I could feel the scar on his thumb, his wedding ring as it rubbed my fingers while it was on his finger, in my hand. And for one very brief moment it took my breath away and gave me peace.
And then it broke my heart. I long for him in ways that only my heart can define, for there are no words.
And yet, then I simply longed for that kind of love again. It was a strange mix of emotions. It helped me know that somehow it is possible to have love in my life again, even if the logic still doesn't make sense that someone can love two people at the same time. I see that it is possible. And I don't want to let go of him forever. I want both.
I've worn Adam's ring on and off lately. I probably really shouldn't. It is so giant for even my thumb. But there's just something about the feel and the sound and the temperature of that ring that brings me to happy times.
The "get real" side of me thinks that maybe it is simply because I've been struggling with so much that I literally have to bring my brain to a different space in time to feel peace. That is the reality. I long for the peace I felt with him, but because I feel more complete, knowing what I do now, I long for a more complete peace in my life. I long for the comforts that our relationship held, but someone else to learn from and grow with. Because I really need to grow. My heart needs growth.
And then I get fearful. That it'll never happen. Or that I'm not doing the right things to make sure I'm putting myself on the right path to find the right person in this "second of firsts."
I want to have faith and hope. I do. Some days just feel so incredibly thankless, with no one to cuddle up and to share our mutual woes and mutual joys. And laughter. I may miss that most of all right now.
How long must I do this? I hear someone else's words echo similarly when I say and think this thought daily. All I can do is pray that I can continue on, that I have the faith to do so, and that I can trust Heavenly Father's plan for me. I know He has one. I just wonder what else He plans to stick on my path if this is where the past 32 years has routed me.
I have loved hearing this song lately. I broke out the video tonight. I think it is something about the two white horses in this video that hold more symbolism to me...along with symbolism in the words to this song.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Fail, Chick-fil-a. Major Fail.
So I debate posting this here because it's really quite gross (You've been warned!). But I suppose I'm hoping someday (not today, and not tomorrow...but someday) I will look back and laugh on this crazy night I had.
I think some of the things I do are motivated by guilt. I know that I haven't done a whole lot of substantive things with the kids over this Christmas break. We didn't do the service I would have liked, bought gifts for others like I wanted, or baked goodies for others. I was told by a loved one that it is ok, that hopefully people understand that taking care of my three kids on my own is more than a full time job and that others will cut me some slack. Still. I feel bad. So I tried to do a few fun things with the kids. We drove around and looked at Christmas lights. I let them play in the snow one of the days. I took them (all three) to the movies for the first time ever by myself. I took them to the zoo and watched an IMAX movie and wandered some of the zoo. We did some other activities and played games at home. But really not a whole lot. It is what I needed. My brain has been fried and I needed a break at home just like them.
I needed that prefaced for my rationale in tonight's activities. I decided that we would go out to Chick-fil-a and eat inside the restaurant since they have a play place. Not many places here do anymore (they ripped down the two McDonalds near us that had play places during the past couple years). So we go to Chick-fil-a. I knew that things started out wrong when they were out of 1) French fries and 2) Chick-fil-a sauce. Those are two duh-must-haves. So that was a bummer. Then we discovered that they weren't keeping up cleaning the tables. So I had to break out a baby wipe. Strike two. After the kids ate, I sent them off to the play place where Justin discovered that he is too big to play on the play equipment (imagine that...). I told him it was fine. That unless they kick him out, I didn't care and he could play. So of course my three maniac boys were LOUD in there. Too loud. The playplace is this tiny enclosed little room. I think we ticked off some of the parents in there. I will admit it, my kids were out of control. And I don't think the other parents appreciated Justin stepping over their tiny tots on the equipment. So it was time to go. I told Justin to get his coat and shoes on. He did (thank goodness for one child who is generally obedient). I called to Spencer and helped Carson get his shoes and coat on. Spencer refused to come down. RE.FUSED. I didn't want to go ballistic on him in front of others. I said "See ya, I'm leaving." And I walked out of the place with the other 2 kids. I thought he'd follow. NOPE. So I put the others in the car and locked them in. I mean, I'm not an octopus. Being the single mom to little kids like I am, there are times when there's nothing I can do due to lack of extra hands. I went back in the store to get Spencer. He knew he was in BIG trouble. But he didn't come down. He didn't answer when I called him. I told him if I had to climb up in the tubes to get him he was really going to be in trouble. He didn't respond. So I did. Up I went. I climbed all over it and couldn't find him. I had a panic for a moment. I knew he hadn't left the store. But I couldn't find him. I climbed back down and out of the thing. Then another set of parents noticed that Spencer was hiding in a section that I hadn't climbed in. Back up I went. I told him to come out. Just as I was about to near his section, EWWW happened. My hand was immersed in a pile of red vomit. EWEEWEWWWWWWWWW!!!! So I scream. I just don't DO vomit. It doesn't matter that I am a cancer nurse at heart. Never have I been fond of the stuff and I never will be! So I realized that the only way to Spencer was to get through this tube of yuck. I yell to the parents sitting down there. One sends her husband to tell someone. He comes back. Real helpful. ARGH! I STILL have vomit on my hands. I'm ushering kids away from the place. I ask (AGAIN) one of the parents to bring some napkins to me. Meanwhile, Spencer is not coming out and saying that he is "stuck" in the little car part of the tube. I sort of thought he was making it up, but tried believed him. So meanwhile I'm telling kids to get out of the tubes, that someone needs to clean this thing out. Some boy doesn't listen to me that it is disgusting and won't leave. So he's getting all upset. So his idiot mother climbs up the thing as though I'm being a mean mother and not letting her kid pass. I tell her that there's vomit and he needs to get down so then her kid starts crying and she's wanting her kid to climb around the vomit. Seriously? GET OFF OF THE EQUIPMENT! YUCK! Some people!!! Finally the napkins come so I can wipe off my hands and find out if Spencer is actually stuck. Oh yeah, and I'm praying that a cop doesn't see my other monkey children jumping around in my van....if they're staying put in the van and not running around the parking lot. I climb through the yuck and see Spencer. He is pretending to be stuck. I swear, I could've lost it right then and there. I'm positive there were fumes escaping from my ears because my brain was on fire at that point. I couldn't even in good conscience put Spencer's coat on him after I dragged him down the equipment and out of the little enclosed playplace space and into the bathroom to wash our hands. I didn't want his coat covered in nast either and even after washing out hands, I couldn't put our coats on. Ewwww. We walked out to the car, me in short sleeves, in the 20 degree weather. And then I got in the car and (after purelling the heck out of my and the kids' hands...) broke down into ugly cries. They didn't seem to phase Spencer. As usual. It is all one big game to him. He keeps upping the ante just to see what reaction he'll get out of me. He won tonight. And Chick-fil-a won $20 from our dinner tonight that they TOTALLY DIDN'T DESERVE OR EARN.
The kids were given strict instructions to go in our laundry room/bathroom that is off our garage entrance to our house and follow the sign on the wall--"Drop Your Drawers Here." This sign has had many meanings to me through the years, but never, ever before did I desire such instructions be followed to such a T. Those kids were scrubbed with so much soap before they were allowed anywhere else in the house. Ewwww. I really don't do throw up.
I'm reminded why we only do drive thrus. *Sigh* I was just trying to be a fun mom. The universe had other plans for me tonight.
I think some of the things I do are motivated by guilt. I know that I haven't done a whole lot of substantive things with the kids over this Christmas break. We didn't do the service I would have liked, bought gifts for others like I wanted, or baked goodies for others. I was told by a loved one that it is ok, that hopefully people understand that taking care of my three kids on my own is more than a full time job and that others will cut me some slack. Still. I feel bad. So I tried to do a few fun things with the kids. We drove around and looked at Christmas lights. I let them play in the snow one of the days. I took them (all three) to the movies for the first time ever by myself. I took them to the zoo and watched an IMAX movie and wandered some of the zoo. We did some other activities and played games at home. But really not a whole lot. It is what I needed. My brain has been fried and I needed a break at home just like them.
I needed that prefaced for my rationale in tonight's activities. I decided that we would go out to Chick-fil-a and eat inside the restaurant since they have a play place. Not many places here do anymore (they ripped down the two McDonalds near us that had play places during the past couple years). So we go to Chick-fil-a. I knew that things started out wrong when they were out of 1) French fries and 2) Chick-fil-a sauce. Those are two duh-must-haves. So that was a bummer. Then we discovered that they weren't keeping up cleaning the tables. So I had to break out a baby wipe. Strike two. After the kids ate, I sent them off to the play place where Justin discovered that he is too big to play on the play equipment (imagine that...). I told him it was fine. That unless they kick him out, I didn't care and he could play. So of course my three maniac boys were LOUD in there. Too loud. The playplace is this tiny enclosed little room. I think we ticked off some of the parents in there. I will admit it, my kids were out of control. And I don't think the other parents appreciated Justin stepping over their tiny tots on the equipment. So it was time to go. I told Justin to get his coat and shoes on. He did (thank goodness for one child who is generally obedient). I called to Spencer and helped Carson get his shoes and coat on. Spencer refused to come down. RE.FUSED. I didn't want to go ballistic on him in front of others. I said "See ya, I'm leaving." And I walked out of the place with the other 2 kids. I thought he'd follow. NOPE. So I put the others in the car and locked them in. I mean, I'm not an octopus. Being the single mom to little kids like I am, there are times when there's nothing I can do due to lack of extra hands. I went back in the store to get Spencer. He knew he was in BIG trouble. But he didn't come down. He didn't answer when I called him. I told him if I had to climb up in the tubes to get him he was really going to be in trouble. He didn't respond. So I did. Up I went. I climbed all over it and couldn't find him. I had a panic for a moment. I knew he hadn't left the store. But I couldn't find him. I climbed back down and out of the thing. Then another set of parents noticed that Spencer was hiding in a section that I hadn't climbed in. Back up I went. I told him to come out. Just as I was about to near his section, EWWW happened. My hand was immersed in a pile of red vomit. EWEEWEWWWWWWWWW!!!! So I scream. I just don't DO vomit. It doesn't matter that I am a cancer nurse at heart. Never have I been fond of the stuff and I never will be! So I realized that the only way to Spencer was to get through this tube of yuck. I yell to the parents sitting down there. One sends her husband to tell someone. He comes back. Real helpful. ARGH! I STILL have vomit on my hands. I'm ushering kids away from the place. I ask (AGAIN) one of the parents to bring some napkins to me. Meanwhile, Spencer is not coming out and saying that he is "stuck" in the little car part of the tube. I sort of thought he was making it up, but tried believed him. So meanwhile I'm telling kids to get out of the tubes, that someone needs to clean this thing out. Some boy doesn't listen to me that it is disgusting and won't leave. So he's getting all upset. So his idiot mother climbs up the thing as though I'm being a mean mother and not letting her kid pass. I tell her that there's vomit and he needs to get down so then her kid starts crying and she's wanting her kid to climb around the vomit. Seriously? GET OFF OF THE EQUIPMENT! YUCK! Some people!!! Finally the napkins come so I can wipe off my hands and find out if Spencer is actually stuck. Oh yeah, and I'm praying that a cop doesn't see my other monkey children jumping around in my van....if they're staying put in the van and not running around the parking lot. I climb through the yuck and see Spencer. He is pretending to be stuck. I swear, I could've lost it right then and there. I'm positive there were fumes escaping from my ears because my brain was on fire at that point. I couldn't even in good conscience put Spencer's coat on him after I dragged him down the equipment and out of the little enclosed playplace space and into the bathroom to wash our hands. I didn't want his coat covered in nast either and even after washing out hands, I couldn't put our coats on. Ewwww. We walked out to the car, me in short sleeves, in the 20 degree weather. And then I got in the car and (after purelling the heck out of my and the kids' hands...) broke down into ugly cries. They didn't seem to phase Spencer. As usual. It is all one big game to him. He keeps upping the ante just to see what reaction he'll get out of me. He won tonight. And Chick-fil-a won $20 from our dinner tonight that they TOTALLY DIDN'T DESERVE OR EARN.
The kids were given strict instructions to go in our laundry room/bathroom that is off our garage entrance to our house and follow the sign on the wall--"Drop Your Drawers Here." This sign has had many meanings to me through the years, but never, ever before did I desire such instructions be followed to such a T. Those kids were scrubbed with so much soap before they were allowed anywhere else in the house. Ewwww. I really don't do throw up.
I'm reminded why we only do drive thrus. *Sigh* I was just trying to be a fun mom. The universe had other plans for me tonight.
2013
I was thinking on my goals for 2013. I want to make some goals that are attainable, goals that won't overwhelm me. This is tough because I always can list a million things that I'd really like to do--and I am sincere about all of them. But since simple is better right now in my life, here goes:
Physical: Fit in exercise at home before work.
Join Weight Watchers. It is finally time to dig deep. I'm ready.
Mental: Decide whether to go back and do the DNP program.
Emotional: It is time to start dating to determine what I really want this time around. Start breaking down the misconceptions and walls that I have about dating.
Spiritual: Daily personal scripture reading, in addition to family reading.
Physical: Fit in exercise at home before work.
Join Weight Watchers. It is finally time to dig deep. I'm ready.
Mental: Decide whether to go back and do the DNP program.
Emotional: It is time to start dating to determine what I really want this time around. Start breaking down the misconceptions and walls that I have about dating.
Spiritual: Daily personal scripture reading, in addition to family reading.
