ET’s Gone Home

This week, we lost one of the most outgoing, happy, loving, gracious people I have ever met. Tonight, I gave his wife a long hug and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

And I am.

I’m sorry that cancer stole the love of her life way too soon.

I’m sorry that she will know this pain so young.

I’m sorry that this family will have to find a way to live without this man they loved so much.

… and there is so much more.

I’m sorry that we didn’t spend more time together.

I’m sorry that we didn’t do more to help you fight.

I’m sorry that we weren’t there as much as we should have been.

I’m sorry for so many things.

Mostly, I’m so sorry that he’s gone.

I know he’s with God. I know that as sure as I’m here typing while tears rush down my face. He’s  no longer in pain – no longer suffering.

ET has gone home. I consider myself blessed to have known him. I consider myself doubly-blessed to have called him a friend.

I'll be hoppin' along now ...

Family

I’ve got a thing for family. That sounds kind of odd now that I’ve gone and typed it … but it’s true. I like almost everything about family. The history, the drama, the kookiness, the togetherness, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

For the past year or so, I’ve been looking into our family’s past. I think it’s important for us to know how and where we’ve come from and we are getting to the point where many of our “primary sources” are starting to be of an age where they no longer remember things as they once did. If we don’t do it now, there will be many things lost forever.

So, I’ve been painstakingly trying to harness the collective memory. It’s been both frustrating and exciting!

I started with a group of folks I knew well – or thought I did. The stories behind the photos – the life stories – are captivating and quirky and real. And, they make me love these folks even more than I already did.

Recently, we attended a family reunion and I was able to meet a whole branch of the family tree for the very first time. Having these folks in one place led me to a treasure trove … of both family and memories!

Aren’t these folks stunning in their best attire? This marriage led to Husband being here on this earth – without it, he doesn’t exist. It’s stunning when you think about it from that perspective. Stunning and humbling.

As we met folks that day, looked at old pictures, and chatted about all sorts of things, I was struck by the continuity of it all.

Generation to generation – some things different, many things the same. And it’s part of everything we are now and everything we will be.

I'll be hoppin' along now ...

Spontaneous Hugs

With the kids gone, I often sit for a few minutes and “hear” their voices echoing through the house. They are such lively little buggers that they leave their energy behind – just long enough to get us through to their return!

This weekend, as I sat with my eyes closed, I remembered and encounter I had with Little Man.I guess before I start, it would be helpful to give you a bit of background. Hmmm…

1. Little Man loves his fish … although he can’t really remember their names from one day to the next.
2. The average life span of a fish in my care is not long – particularly if they are goldfish.
3. After I killed several goldfish, we bought fish of heartier stock – with the help of the lovely people at PetSmart.
4. I have not killed these yet. (I don’t suppose that’s a necessary detail, I’m just proud of myself.)
5. Little Man is convinced that his fish need a house and a plant. Our fish tank isn’t big enough for both.
6. The fishbowl is my job around here. All mine!

Just before Grammy came, I cleaned out the fishbowl. It was getting kind of nasty and I had some time so I just did my thing. I didn’t think to much about it at all, actually. I cleaned the bowl, replaced the stones and the filter, and swapped out the plant that had been in the take with the house that we’d used before. No fish died in the process and the kids weren’t even aware that I was cleaning the tank. No biggie.

So, finished with the bowl, I went on to other things. I was in the office working on something and all of a sudden Little Man runs in with a HUGE smile on his face. HUGE! [I initially wondered what he'd gotten into. Candy seemed to be a logical guess.]

“THANKS, MOM!”, was followed by a hug the size of his grin.

Startled, I asked, “Little Man, you are very welcome. But, I’m not sure what I did.”

He said, “You put the castle in the fish tank.”

I had no idea. No idea at all that this castle meant that much to him. Wanna know something else? I had no idea how much I loved this type of spontaneous hug.

Have you ever had the experience of not missing something because you’d never had it before, but then really missing it once you found out what you were missing?

Yeh, me too. I miss him. I miss them.

Spontaneous hugs all around!

I'll be hoppin' along now ...

A Father is Born

I’ve been looking at this blank page for more than a few minutes trying to decide just which words to use. Trying to craft just the right message to covey just how cool it is to watch the birth of a father. I’m struggling. I want to get this right.

When Husband and I decided to get married, there was never any doubt that we would have children. Although we met and got married “later in life”, it was just a given that we would have a family. We were youthful – if not young – and idealistic. Life was good! [Life is still good, by the way. Very good!]

About seven years ago, Husband and I found out we were expecting for the first time. It was mid-June and just after our wedding reception.

[There's a running joke that we got pregnant between our wedding and reception. We did, actually ... the dates were like 3 months apart.]

We no sooner found out – and had time to get excited – than I miscarried. Six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

Not long after that we learned that we were expecting the second time. This time, we were cautious. We ran tests, prayed, and waited. At about 5 weeks, we knew that I would miscarry. The tests said so.  It was Thanksgiving. We gave thanks and prayed that the tests were wrong. They weren’t. I miscarried at six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

I believe that faith and parenthood/fatherhood are necessary companions. We had faith. We had pain and grief and all that goes with miscarriage. We were scared, but we had faith.

The doctors assured me that it was likely that there was nothing wrong – that miscarriages are quite common. We took solace in that and decided to just be faithful and see what would happen.

Several months went by before we found ourselves expecting for the third time. This time we were just plain scared. We were also “activists”. We asked questions, learned a whole lot of medical terms, ran tests, and were cautiously optimistic. Then we started watching the calendar for the dreaded six weeks – two days. The numbers on the tests weren’t right, but the hCG numbers were going up so … we prayed and prepared.

Six weeks – two days. No miscarriage. Six weeks – three days. Six weeks – four days. No miscarriage.

I will never forget the appointment – the day when my OB said, “Looks like you are going to have to raise this one.” Never.

Just about 9 months (and several anxious moments of our own making) later, we were blessed with Little Man. In that moment, in that messy, scary, exciting, crazy moment a father was born as well. It was instant – a sort of rush of all of the emotion that comes with the journey to the moment. He had no idea what do to, but he was hooked.

Husband grew up the youngest of three kids. He never babysat and, until he met me, he’d not spent a lot of time with children at all. Now, he had a little one depending on him all of the time. I’m sure that it scared him to death. But, we never saw it.

Little Man had Husband uncovering feelings that he never knew existed. He was our little bundle of shock and awe. Husband loved him more and more every day and, today, they have a bond so strong that I can’t imagine a power strong enough to tear it apart. I am in awe of their relationship.

Roughly four years later, we decided that Little Man needed a sibling brother. We weren’t going to have another child – you can ask anyone. We were content. And, then, all of a sudden, we weren’t. And, then? Nah, we’re good. But, then? We really should. It was insane.

We really couldn’t decide. And then we did. We decided that we were read to do this crazy dance all over again.

The first month, I just knew I wasn’t pregnant. I just knew it. I didn’t feel pregnant. But, I checked anyway and uh, yeh … WRONG! So, we quickly got a grip and counted on the calendar. Our first healthy milestone was that six week – two day mark.

The doctors tested me out the wazoo – almost 40 with a history of miscarriage earns you a lot of needles in early pregnancy! I was on a business trip and bugged the sin out of the nurses at my doctor’s office. But, there they were – perfectly textbook hCG numbers and, then a strong heartbeat. We were going to have another baby. Little Man was going to have a brother.

Yeh, except that God had some other plans. Little Man apparently needed a sister. Who knew? And, as it turns out? Daddy needed a baby girl.

When we found out BK was not a boy there was some denial going on. Husband refused to buy in to what the nurses and ultrasound pictures were saying. She was a boy. What would we do with a girl? He already had the boy thing down.

But, sure enough, little BK showed up a tad ahead of schedule and full of healthy (if tiny) spunk! At 5 pounds 12 ounces, she was SO tiny and feminine – the complete opposite of her big brother.

And, Daddy? Well, if I am to be honest, I’d tell you that he was just scared. He stayed back this time … loving, but a little standoffish. He loved, supported, took care of … but didn’t really bond initially.

She was so small and so pink … and Little Man needed him … and she was so small and fragile.

Then, one morning in the first part of her second month, I looked over at the rocking chair and saw a father being born once again. In the quiet morning light with eau d’formula floating heavily in the air, I watched my husband fall completely in love with his daughter. I literally watched him fall. It was a precious moment that I will treasure forever.

BK is in love with her Daddy – as it should be. She thinks he hangs the moon – and the feeling is mutual. They have created a wonderful relationship that gives me such confidence in her future. I am in awe of their relationship.

My kids and their Dad are an awesome force. They love each other and hold nothing back. It’s pure and raw and real. They share bonds that will get them through the rough times. I am thankful for this to a point beyond expression. I wrote this post to honor the journey. The bond. The man.

Happy Father’s Day, Husband … and to all fathers everywhere!

We are beyond blessed to have you in our lives.

I'll be hoppin' along now ...

Lessons in Humanity

I had to take a couple of days off after NaBloPoMo. Blogging every day took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. Having said that, I think I’d do it again. Just not in December!

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed my patience frittering away. Hmmm … maybe frittering isn’t the best description. It’s more like evaporating. I’m fine one minute and the next, I’m just done. There are, of course, predictable triggers. Whining is a slam dunk and there are some others – but that discussion would rabbit trail this rabbit trail!

I’ve spent a bit more time than I would like beating myself up in the last few weeks. Tonight, as I was worrying about the long-term effects of this current phenomenon on my kids, I was reminded of my classroom days.

Back then, before I had kids myself, I believed that it was important for my students to understand that everyone is human – even their teacher. Especially their teacher. So, within appropriate boundaries, they saw me in all kinds of modes and moods. They saw me solve problems both in good, productive ways and in ways that were not the best. It all became part of who we were as a group and what we did as a group – my behavior was as big a part of things as theirs was. We learned a lot about humanness. Together.

I still believe that I was right and that this sharing (or maybe lack of pretending on my part) was a positive thing. It’s just one of the more difficult things for me to translate into day-to-day mommyhood.

So, fast-forward to my current funk. I’m notorious for beating myself up when I screw up (or perceive that I’ve screwed up). When it comes to losing patience with the kids, I tend to get in mental trouble when I let my mind drift to thoughts of what Little Man and BK will remember about their childhood. It’s an overwhelmingly intimidating thing to think about (so, frankly, I try not to most days).

What I want most is for them to look back fondly and think of Husband and I as supportive and loving.  I want them to remember the hugs and the giggles. I want them to recognize that the discipline and toughness were all part of the learning process – all about us wanting them to be the best humans that they can be. I’m terrified that they will remember us a grouchy, overbearing, and discouraging.

And then it hit me. Being human includes some fairly nasty stuff – anger, grouchiness, whining, stress, and all of the other delightful emotions and reactions that crop up from time-to-time. Part of being the best human you can be is knowing what to do when you aren’t at your best. Part of being the best you can be is knowing how to react when folks around you aren’t at their best. The lessons haven’t changed. The relationships have.

I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll stop beating myself up every time I get snippy with the kids (or with Husband). It’s something I do (and is probably a decent way to keep me in check).  But all of it, absolutely all of it, is very much a part of being human. And, we are all human – even mommies.

Goodbye, for Now

Last night, we went to the memorial service for Heidi. It was a beautiful service … she would have approved. At one point, the congregation was invited to share stories or say a few words. It started slowly … always does.

As I sat there and listened, I felt compelled to share. I can’t really explain why … and I really didn’t have a particular point to make. I stood up and before I knew it, was in front of the microphone.

I recounted, in a pretty scattered way, the night I spent with Heidi and Mary in the hospital the night Mary was born. It was incredibly impromptu. Here’s what I should have said.

I’m Jen. My husband and I are friends of Heidi’s from the old neighborhood. The group’s been together a long time. I married in … just like Dave. Heidi would always tease about that.

What I don’t think I ever recognized until this week (perhaps until listening to those who have spoken before me) was that Heidi and I were, in a lot of ways, two peas in a pod. See if you recognize any of these:

• full of opinions
• vocal
• in pursuit of family/happiness/security
• protective
• direct
• pragmatic
• career-minded
• spiritual
• silly, sometimes
• in control – but not

These similarities, as you can imagine, sparked some very interesting conversations. They also kept us from having others. They sometimes pulled us apart and sometimes kept us together.

Looking back, what I now see clearly is that no matter how busy things got or crazy things became, Heidi would lobby hard to be sure that we honored the traditions of friendship … of family … even when it would certainly have been easier to just let it go. Christmas Dinners … Easter Brunches … Birthday Get-togethers … Afternoon Teas … her favorites. I believe she thought that if we let it go once, it would be gone forever.

I got to spend the night in the hospital with Heidi the night after Mary was born. She didn’t want to ask me, but she was tired, a bit frustrated (ah, that new mother feeling), and sore. As she was struggling with asking for help, I finally said, “Heidi, you just say the word and I’ll stay.” She nodded. I stayed.

That night, we talked about all sorts of things. Diaper coupons, formula, diaper cream, congestion … the lovely topics that come up when you first become a mother. We also talked about important things. Things like being blessed with a husband who loved and supported his children … who not only wanted to, but deeply needed to. And, while Heidi slept, Mary and I whispered secrets about what would be.

I don’t know what will be for Mary, her dad, and her little sister. Mary and I didn’t really know then … just dreams and wishes. Only one person knows and He lets things play themselves out.
But, I’ll bet He has a very special plan for this family … and for all of those who knew Heidi and who are struggling with understanding. I Con Only Imagine…

Rough Day

I spent a good bit of the day today wanting to yell, “Shut Up!”

I’m not sure why. Husband watched Little Man and gave me quite a bit of space this weekend to work … so it shouldn’t have been for lack of down time. There was certainly nothing more Husband could have done. He was more than supportive. Still, it was there. So now, at quarter ’til 11, I’m feeling horrible … like a worthless wife and mother.

I can pinpoint the moment it hit. Green Bay was losing, Husband was not happy and discussing strategy, we had friends over who were chatting, I was watching Little Man and he was fussy because he hadn’t had a nap. I just wanted to be somewhere else.

One day, I’ll figure out how to explain all of this stuff. About how most times I feel like I’m totally inferior to Husband when it comes to dealing with everyday stuff … sometimes including caring for Little Man. About how absolutely crippling that can be. About how I feel like I will never measure up … how defeating that is.

See, the thing is, I don’t think Husband will understand. I take that back … he will understand. I’m not sure he will comprehend why I don’t just fix it. I’m not sure I understand why I seem unable to.

It’s pretty simple for him. He believes that you make a list and tackle it one-by-one … simple as that. He believes that you work until you’re done and then you play. I don’t function the way he does. I can, for a while, but not for long. I start with purpose and resolve … I work for improvement and then it simply melts and I beat myself up a bit.

Secretly, I believe he thinks I’m the marital equivalent to Randy Moss … selfish and not a team player. Tonight … I’m not sure I would disagree.

If it was just Husband … or my mother … it would be different. It’s not. I want Little Man to respect both his mom and his dad. I want him to have a functional family. I want him to accept everyone for who they are … including himself. He’s only going to do that by example. I’ve got some work to do.

Hmmmm … thought this would make me feel better. It didn’t.

The Weekend

I have an amazing husband. I really do. He’s keeps this family together and juggles a massive task list. I almost never measure up.

Now, don’t read that as a pity-me, self-deprecating, tell-me-I’m-just fine statement. It’s not. It’s just the truth. My strengths don’t inhabit the world of the everyday. They are cerebral and for all practical purposes not well suited for dealing with everyday details.

My mother’s voice is in my head right now, so let me get this out while I’m here. I was taught how to do all of the things I’m supposed to do as a functioning adult. I know how to do laundry, shop for groceries, cook dinner, make a bed, vacuum the floor, dust, … you get the idea. In fact, when I do these things, I can do them very well.

But none of that is really the point tonight. You see my husband and my son have been out of town for 3 days. For 3 days, I’ve had the freedom to do what I want on my schedule. I’ve stayed up late, watched movies, ordered pizza … the usual … and I’ve missed them terribly.

The one thing I’ve not done is the one thing that my husband will probably not be able to get past. I’ve not finished a contract job that has been hanging over my head for months. It’s ridiculous really … not to have finished it. Stupid.

But, in the time that was to be spent on that task, I’ve re-discovered how to enjoy life a bit. I’ve finished all of the Christmas shopping (and genuinely enjoyed shopping for others) and wrapped all of the presents. I’ve done the laundry and dishes. I’ve vacuumed the house (twice). I’ve uploaded about 9000 pictures to our family web site. I’ve hung out with Odie and Izzy instead of always fussing at them.

The trouble is … there’s so much left to do. I’ve not scrapbooked. I’ve not changed the sheets on the bed. …. I’ve not finished the task.

How do I explain it to him – to a man who believes that you need to get your work done before you play?! I don’t think I can. I feel about 10 years younger today, but I can feel the guilt and the shame creeping up on me. It’ll catch up. It always does.

So, I sit here with about 18 hours before their return. Wishing that I would have spent the time differently … yet, not really. Wishing I could just, for once, have worked the list in order of priority.

For him.

If you asked, I bet that he would cross all of the items off his wish-list for Christmas if I could have just done this one thing. But, that didn’t dawn on me until just as I was writing it. So what do I do now?

Get back to work.