It's been 5 years today since I last talked to my mom.
5 years.
1825 days.
I won't bother with the hours, its too many.
Tomorrow marks the 5 year anniversary of my mom passing away. And I promise, this will probably be the last one of these that I do. There is something about this milestone, if that is even the right word, that has a sense of weight to it. Like, I have made it this far, the rest should be easy, right? That maybe I don't need to continue to re-visit this every year. Not sure, but it feels that way today.
But 5 years ago today, on a Friday as well, I was headed down to my parents house for the weekend, as I had done for every weekend before for roughly the last 2, 4, 6 -who knows, months. I packed for just the weekend. We were all home. My brother was back on emergency leave from overseas. And we were living in this weird reality where words like palliative care, active-dying and hospice were the norm. And after having a few drinks with my sister -- odd, I know -- I sat in my parents living room, where my mother's bed had taken over, and I held her hand and I told her good-bye. That it was ok to let go and stop fighting. She didn't talk back - she hadn't really said anything for about a week at that point. But she was there. And the next morning when I came downstairs, she wasn't.
I know that I am not the first person to have that type of conversation with someone. Nor will I be the last. I also know that we are not the only family that has been ravaged by cancer. The truth is, we were ravaged by our loss. Its easy to direct all your anger and sadness at cancer. It's the gut-sucking, faith-rattling monster in the corner. But really, anyone who has lost someone feels anger, sadness, hurt, all of it, at some (many) point. I just get to point a finger at something in particular. And for all those who survive cancer (or any potentially fatal disease), and in the words of the gorgeous soul that lived down the street and that I used to babysit, tell cancer to "fuck off" - revel in. Take the victory lap. Have a huge party, indulge a little. You should. In every way possible.
Because what this post is about, although you probably can't tell up to this point, is life. And living it.
See in those ensuing 1825 days since that moment, I have continued to move forward with my life. So has my family. Easy - no, not always. Days like today still hurt. Or when you are with someone and they talk about what a great time they had with their mom just hanging out, and you just smile and nod, because well, that's all you can do. Or when you just need a level set that your kids biting other kids/beating the crap out of each other/still needing a pacifier at 3 is ok and you will get through it. But you keep going.
And I think that, no - I know, that my mom would be proud of the living that I have done since then. I got married, had a few kids, bought a house, we opened a business, and I have continued to work my tail off at my own career as well. My order might be a little off, but don't judge. Let's not fool ourselves though - its not like we would have just sat around polishing our halo's and talking about how great we are. My mom and I disagreed on a lot. And I know that we would have butted heads more than once in the mommy-ring. But at the end of the day, we would have been ok. Plus, I out-weighed her and would have won on that merit alone. I also believe that her vision of my home would have been more Longaberger and Teddy Bears than the design astethic that I have. She would have gotten over it. I think.
My challenge now is to keep moving forward. To make the next 1825 days (and beyond) as full of joy, laughter and meaning as I can. To impart on my kids how important your family is - whether they are there at that moment or not. To be the best, wife, mom, sister, friend, co-worker, pick one of the roughly 3 dozen labels I wear at any time, that I can be. That is what this journey is about. That is what my mom taught me. That is what she said to me in many conversations. That is what her legacy is all about. That is the beauty of that last coversation, I got to have it. Even if she didn't say a lot. She didn't need to.
She had already said plenty.
Friday, September 07, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Crap-tastic Post of the Month
I am sure that the utter shock to each of you that there is something NEW posted here is sorta more than you can handle. And for the record, there were 3 posts that I have started that are out there in half-finished draft form. Not that you will ever read them, as I am not sure where I was going with any of them after re-reading them.
There are many things that I could probably talk/vent about today. The political climate - filled with people who are straight up, "legitimate" bat-shit crazy. Not going to go there. Work - continues to be crazy busy and moving at like, Mach-150 on a pretty regular basis. Pizza - we still have lots and lots of it in our house. And really, I can't complain about pizza. Pizza is going to make me millions of dollars. At least that is the Plan. Might be Plan, A, B or C -- depends on the day. Could go with my weight - in the ever, literal, expanding and contracting of my waistline, we are currently on an upward trend. And not in a good way.
No, after months and months of silence, minus some micro-blogging on Facebook. And yes, I just said, micro-blogging. Who the eff am I? Anyway, what has finally compelled me to take fingers to keyboards is shit.
I mean that in the literal sense of the word. Never in my life did I imagine there would come a time when my entire world would revolve around shit. And believe me, I thought at many times on the road that is parenting that I was there. But no, I really wasn't.
Allow me to explain.
We are potty training.
And I get it. No one really wants to know the intricacies of potty training. The details, the fact that your kid did "a big-boy number 2" is just information that should stay in the sacred 4 walls of the bathroom.
And here is why, we all KNOW what potty training is about. We don't need a reminder. But I am going to go there as it has become all consuming in my world.
ALL.
CONSUMING.
Example: hanging out with your kid and watching him start doing the crap-baby dance. You know the one -- grabbing at the rear, pulling at the pants, doubled over because "my tummy hurts". You ask, probably about 85 times in a 3 minute period if they need to go to the bathroom, and without fail - they answer no. Fast forward 5 minutes and you find your kid crouched behind the potted plant in the front room filling his drawers.
Or, you get kid to bed ( in a pull-up) and go to do a few things outside. You are talking to the neighbor when you hear your kid yelling, Mom, Mom, Mom, repeatedly. Well, we are all familiar with the stall tactics that your average 3 year old employs to get out of bedtime. So on with the yard clean up you go. Until about 5 minutes pass and as clear as a bell, and roughly loud enough to carry into the next suburb, you hear -- MOM, I made a big poop.
You think, pull-up, all good. Nope, walk into the room where there is a small cat sized crap on the carpet and your kid buck naked from the waist down, saying "see, I pooped."
Or the other time at night when he comes down from bed, again, naked from the waist down, butt covered in crap, and enlightens you to his latest BM. Head upstairs, where he has dumped the pull-up, with complete man-crap into the toilet, because, well - that's where the poop goes. Pull the pull-up, which at this point weighs roughly 86 lbs as it has absorbed most of the water in the toilet, and he flushes. Where the toilet proceeds to almost overflow and you have to attempt to describe what a plunger looks like to a 3 year old with no pants on.
And today, the average, run of the mill trip to Target. After asking about 13 dozen times before we left, we get there and I get a "Mom, I need to go to the potty". So rush to the bathroom. Which of course, the family bathroom was full, so crammed me, the 3 year old and the 2 year old into a single stall. And after negotiating the toilet so we didn't get pee on everything (he is practicing his aim, you know). The 2 year old decides that SHE needs to go potty. Which for the record, entails her sitting on the pot, breaking a little wind and saying "I go potty!"
Please understand, I get this is a good thing. Getting both kids out of diapers/pull-ups is sorta high on my "wouldn't that be awesome" list. So I don't mean to sound discouraging to her, its just a lot in a 4x2 metal bathroom stall. So regroup, search for the cart to ensure that nothing is missing, fight over who gets to sit in the front of the cart and move on. For about 3.3 minutes until Finn starts bending over and grabbing at his butt. Zoom BACK to the bathroom and yes, victory. Now, I am not too attuned to the daily regular schedule of my kids bathroom habits, but I felt at that point that we were good for the day.
Oh, how very wrong I was.
That is what I flitted across my mind as I was staring eye level at a toddler butt with another one hanging off my back saying " I pooped too..." and then following that with me saying the words you never imagined yourself saying to another human being.... "bend over the toilet so I can clean your butt"
And the hits just keep coming.
So, add the fact that I still have to clean up after the cat, I have 3 living beings that I am literally responsible for their shit.
I know in my heart all of this will end and that this is a means to an end, but when I thought in the early baby months that blow-outs over my lap where the worst that the Crap Fairy could send me, I was clearly fooling myself.
Dear reader, if there are any of you left, that is my reality these days. Trying to get out of the constant bathroom duty that is a 2 & 3 year old attempting to get out of diapers.
There are many things that I could probably talk/vent about today. The political climate - filled with people who are straight up, "legitimate" bat-shit crazy. Not going to go there. Work - continues to be crazy busy and moving at like, Mach-150 on a pretty regular basis. Pizza - we still have lots and lots of it in our house. And really, I can't complain about pizza. Pizza is going to make me millions of dollars. At least that is the Plan. Might be Plan, A, B or C -- depends on the day. Could go with my weight - in the ever, literal, expanding and contracting of my waistline, we are currently on an upward trend. And not in a good way.
No, after months and months of silence, minus some micro-blogging on Facebook. And yes, I just said, micro-blogging. Who the eff am I? Anyway, what has finally compelled me to take fingers to keyboards is shit.
I mean that in the literal sense of the word. Never in my life did I imagine there would come a time when my entire world would revolve around shit. And believe me, I thought at many times on the road that is parenting that I was there. But no, I really wasn't.
Allow me to explain.
We are potty training.
And I get it. No one really wants to know the intricacies of potty training. The details, the fact that your kid did "a big-boy number 2" is just information that should stay in the sacred 4 walls of the bathroom.
And here is why, we all KNOW what potty training is about. We don't need a reminder. But I am going to go there as it has become all consuming in my world.
ALL.
CONSUMING.
Example: hanging out with your kid and watching him start doing the crap-baby dance. You know the one -- grabbing at the rear, pulling at the pants, doubled over because "my tummy hurts". You ask, probably about 85 times in a 3 minute period if they need to go to the bathroom, and without fail - they answer no. Fast forward 5 minutes and you find your kid crouched behind the potted plant in the front room filling his drawers.
Or, you get kid to bed ( in a pull-up) and go to do a few things outside. You are talking to the neighbor when you hear your kid yelling, Mom, Mom, Mom, repeatedly. Well, we are all familiar with the stall tactics that your average 3 year old employs to get out of bedtime. So on with the yard clean up you go. Until about 5 minutes pass and as clear as a bell, and roughly loud enough to carry into the next suburb, you hear -- MOM, I made a big poop.
You think, pull-up, all good. Nope, walk into the room where there is a small cat sized crap on the carpet and your kid buck naked from the waist down, saying "see, I pooped."
Or the other time at night when he comes down from bed, again, naked from the waist down, butt covered in crap, and enlightens you to his latest BM. Head upstairs, where he has dumped the pull-up, with complete man-crap into the toilet, because, well - that's where the poop goes. Pull the pull-up, which at this point weighs roughly 86 lbs as it has absorbed most of the water in the toilet, and he flushes. Where the toilet proceeds to almost overflow and you have to attempt to describe what a plunger looks like to a 3 year old with no pants on.
And today, the average, run of the mill trip to Target. After asking about 13 dozen times before we left, we get there and I get a "Mom, I need to go to the potty". So rush to the bathroom. Which of course, the family bathroom was full, so crammed me, the 3 year old and the 2 year old into a single stall. And after negotiating the toilet so we didn't get pee on everything (he is practicing his aim, you know). The 2 year old decides that SHE needs to go potty. Which for the record, entails her sitting on the pot, breaking a little wind and saying "I go potty!"
Please understand, I get this is a good thing. Getting both kids out of diapers/pull-ups is sorta high on my "wouldn't that be awesome" list. So I don't mean to sound discouraging to her, its just a lot in a 4x2 metal bathroom stall. So regroup, search for the cart to ensure that nothing is missing, fight over who gets to sit in the front of the cart and move on. For about 3.3 minutes until Finn starts bending over and grabbing at his butt. Zoom BACK to the bathroom and yes, victory. Now, I am not too attuned to the daily regular schedule of my kids bathroom habits, but I felt at that point that we were good for the day.
Oh, how very wrong I was.
That is what I flitted across my mind as I was staring eye level at a toddler butt with another one hanging off my back saying " I pooped too..." and then following that with me saying the words you never imagined yourself saying to another human being.... "bend over the toilet so I can clean your butt"
And the hits just keep coming.
So, add the fact that I still have to clean up after the cat, I have 3 living beings that I am literally responsible for their shit.
I know in my heart all of this will end and that this is a means to an end, but when I thought in the early baby months that blow-outs over my lap where the worst that the Crap Fairy could send me, I was clearly fooling myself.
Dear reader, if there are any of you left, that is my reality these days. Trying to get out of the constant bathroom duty that is a 2 & 3 year old attempting to get out of diapers.
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