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I recently received an emial from a childhood friend mentioning that she had started a blog. It was at that point it occurred to me that I too have one. And, I thought perhaps I should go write in it. Okay, really? I thought, OH HELL NO! IIIIIIII have a blog. I WILL NOT BE USURPED!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously. If you were married to my husband you would understand my fierce competative nature. Not that this is about winning (really, Kir…its not!! Glad your here! Glad to have you aboard. Remember when we wrote that book? And got in trouble for saying “shit” in it?). Anyway, its going to take me a while to get back my two faithful readers. I understand that. I’ll do the work. I’m not a slacker.
SO here it is in a nutshell, death, jobless, spiritually spent. O God? Where are you? O job? Where hast thou gonest?? O woe. Alack, alas, and all that completely selfish CRAP!!
And, by the time I had gotten over that heap, that thing happened, where too much has happened. You know? And, you look at the page totally helpless like? Yeah. So I gave up, cuz I’m a big fat giver upperer.
Then, I read a book which in a round about kind of way lead to my Spiritual Awakening (it was a LONG round about way, I won’t bore you.) and thusly my need to put on the paper what is in the head. And, also my best friend Christen had a lot to do with this because, God bless her if she isn’t my sound board!
Long story short (too late): Hi God!! Hi part time job which I am very thankful for because it allows me to be at home with my little man after school, plus my boss is FRIGGIN HILARIOUS, and a little crazy but I like it, I love it, I want some more of it! Hi…well, still hi Death, but you are no longer sucking me dry!
Like Christen says, We all are crazy and the sooner we all figure that out, the better we’ll be.
My mother passed away on Monday January 28, 2007 at 4:30am. Its been a very busy week, inside my heart, inside my head, and physically all around me.
I wish everyone could have seen the way my mom died. I wish everyone could have seen the way my mom lived, because then, the way she died would not have surprised you at all.
It was very clear that God was with her.
On the Saturday before she passed she was very lucid, and she was able to say all the things that she needed to say, and that we needed to hear.
First I think I need to back up and tell you about my family.
My mother married my dad when I was about three. He has three kids from his previous marriage. It is important to know that we are all Very Close. This includes my father’s ex-wife. She and my mom became best friends.
My parents and my grandparents built a house together when I was a freshman in high school. My mom’s only brother lives in this house, too. Its like a duplex with a shared foyer, laundry room and basement. We are all Very Close.
So, the Saturday before my mom died we were all there. My dad, his ex-wife, my two older sisters, my two younger sisters, my little brother, my niece, my grandparents and my uncle. My mom had lots to say to all of us. We needed that. She told us kids that she was proud of all of our accomplishments. She told my dad’s ex-wife that even though it was unconventional, she thought they had done a pretty good job of raising all of us kids.
In my heart, it is definitely nice to know that I have a Back Up Mother. Not many people can say that. Diane has known me ever since my dad has known me. I was so worried that no one would really know me after my mom passed away. It was just me and my mom for three years before any body else came around. She knew all the things about me that I didn’t. But, I guess, in the long run? What’s three years? My Gramma and Papa knew me then, too. And they are still here.
My mom said this wasn’t the way she thought it was going to be. She said that she thought it would be different, but this was good. It was really peaceful.
By Sunday she was pretty exhausted, and I will save you the details, but she couldn’t stay under the pain killers. She was really restless, and not very coherent. I was begging God to take her because I could no longer see the point.
I stayed the night at my parent’s house on Sunday. I will always be thankful that I made that decision. When she went, my two sisters and I were right there. And, my brother and my niece. And my grandparents and my uncle. It sounds funny to say, but when she finally went…I haven’t felt that kind of peace in two years.
My two older sisters were able to get there within the hour with their mother. It was so nice to have them all around.
We had her funeral yesterday and over 500 people came. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. My sister Miki gave the eulogy and it was so very Good. My brother Kurtis also got up and spoke and it was really grown up of him.
And I was so proud of myself that I didn’t cry until we got to the cemetary. But, I got it together pretty quickly there, too.
My poor dad. I took a mental picture of him at the cemetary. He told us he needed a minute so we all went back to our cars. And, there he stood, holding onto Diane. And then she went back to her car. And, there he stood. Alone. He put two roses in her grave, and I’m sure he said something like, “I’m gonna miss you Booboo.” And then he started walking back toward us, stopped, and turned around one last time.
I was thankful for my brother in law Nick yesterday. When he got out of the car and helped my dad finish walking the rest of the way to his car.
I’m going to really miss my mom.
There are so many times when you think that your parents didn’t teach you anything. Or how you wish they had been better parents. But, in the end, it really doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen because everything you are was because of the way that they were. Good or bad, you learned how to be you because of them.
I think I turned out pretty good. So I guess I must have had a pretty good teacher.
I’m not sure if I’ve always been compulsive, or if its one of those things that you get later in life like arthritis or hot flashes. But let me tell you!
Since we Santa got Holden that DS for Christmas, all we’ve been doing (and by “we” I mean BH and I) is playing that stupid Brain Age game. Competitively. With a fierceness. Have you played this “game”? You should. It helps you figure out that you really are not as smart as a fifth grader. It gives you a series of tests and lets you know what your actual brain’s age is. The first time I did it, my brain was in its seventies. Way to go. Now, I fluctuate between 32 and 46. One time it was twenty six and I was bonkers with excitement. And, then my husband had to go and get twenty three to show me up because he sucks, and is obviously a sore loser.
But, back to my compulsiveness…This game also comes equipped with Sudoku. A little numbers game that, at first, I thought was a) scary (because of all the numbers), and b)scary (because of all the numbers). So I never tried it. Until Brain Age. Now? I’m playing it all day long. Remember, dear friends…I’m living the life of liesure with my being laid off and all… I’m completely addicted.
And then there’s the spider solitaire. Really. See, but its not like I just pick up the game and play a little sudoku. Or I get on the computer and try a bit of solitaire. No. I have to play til I win. And, for those of you who are not adept at Sudoku (those of you who are Normal, like me) it takes a fricken while to solve those damn puzzles.
And, the Spider Solitaire thing. I have to say that usually, usually, I win. But lately, I’ve been on a very depressing losing streak, and so I’m just at it for like an hour (exaggeration) because I Need To Win.
So there. Maybe its not that my personality is compulsive, its just that I like to win. No. Need. I need to win.
And, it weren’t always that way. I was so non-competitive when I was growing up. I will tell you who has done this to me, and that is my husband: Big Hands, himself.
I need to win stuff so that he doesn’t. Like the day I whipped his ass at cribbage and Battleship (the Greatest Day of My Life). I was so happy I could have done a little dance. But I didn’t because I didn’t want him to think I’m the same Sore Winner I know him to be.
But, no. I really think its a sickness that goes deeper than a competitive spirit.
I have a huge great big thick book of New York Times Crosswords. If I can’t finish one, I will move onto another until its finished. Also, I can’t do just one load of laundry. Its all or nothing. I can’t just throw out a leftover without giving the fridge an entire once over. I can’t put down a book until its finished. Stacks of “stuff”? Oh, do they bother me. BH likes to keep every magazine that he’s ever gotten on the coffee table. I read mine, and recycle. Read, recycle. It bothers me so! Though, it also makes me thankful that I can live with it. Because I don’t want to end up washing my hands three times before and after I pee. (Though I can certainly see it going there.)
I think growing up in a household full of chaos will do that to you. Make you neat and organized and fixated on tidiness. Whether it be a finished crossword or an empty coffee table, its all the same.
My mother always used to say that your bedroom is a window to your soul. That has always been one of those sayings (like Dr. Phil’s “you teach people how to treat you”) that has really stuck in my head. Though it always makes me laugh somewhere inside because my mom was never the best housekeeper in the world. So how in the world that advice ever stuck is beyond me.
I’m obsessed with making it appear that everything is How It Should Be. Just like those crosswords. See that 988 of them that are not finished? Oh, you silly! There are four that are completely done! See how clean my house is? Well, that is because everything is thrown in the closet!
At least I know I’m this way. And so does Sudoku. So, there will always be that…
I think I’m having a major identity crisis. I’m a wigwam, I’m a teepee. I will sit here in front of this screen for an hour and not think of one thing I actually want to commit to writing.
There are four thousand things running around in my head, of course. But, I can’t pin one of them down long enough to get at least four hundred words out of it.
See, I like to be the Funny Girl. Or at least the Mildly Humorous Gal. But, just not a lot is making me laugh these days. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Lots of stuff is making me laugh these days…My dad and my husband were on a roll yesterday, and we all laughed a lot at them. They were being truly funny, and it made me really happy to see my dad laughing. And, it made me really proud of my husband for making that happen. Because lately? All my dad does is cry. And, that is Not Funny.
I guess I really just thought that God was going to take this cancer away. I mean, I KNEW that that wasn’t going to happen, but I kind of did. Because she appeared to be doing Very Well. And, she was chatty, and bitchy, and funny, and moving around. But, now she’s not any of those things. Now? She is things like: swollen, and fally, and sitty, and Quiet. And sleepy. These things are also Not Funny. Or Fun.
I mostly find myself thinking about all the stuff that’s really going to suck when she’s gone. She will never see Rachael’s new baby. She will never see Holden graduate from high school. Christmas will never be the same without her. Christmas is going to suck. I hate that. Who is going to clean up after my dad? How am I going to feel? How is Holden going to feel? How is my husband going to make me feel better? How am I going to help Rachael make Chloe feel better? Am I going to be able to help any one feel better? Are people going to want to touch me? Will I hit those people? What are my Grandparents going to do? I think my dad, quite literally, might die of a broken heart.
And, I just sit here and think of those things until I just can’t think anymore and then I do some Sudoku on Holden’s DS. And I do that until I can’t do that anymore and then I do some crossword puzzles. I just sit around and do stupid stuff. And, that is not good for me.
I don’t feel quite like myself. The truth is I don’t quite feel like anything. I feel empty and vacant. I feel a Suzy shaped hole in my heart.
Then I try to give myself these little pep talks like Shake it off, Jen. You’ll be alright. Everything will work itself out like it always does. You’ll all lean on each other and you’ll all make it through this okay. The thing is: I don’t believe me. Because if there’s one thing my family sucks at, its leaning.
I’m borrowing from tomorrow. I’m perfectly aware of that. This whole ordeal has been that way. Surreal. Like its happening, but not really. And, certainly not to me or to my mom. Its like a dream that I’m waking up from right now, only to find out that it really wasn’t a dream after all, and like I’ve wasted all this time pretending it wasn’t happening and now I need to get a grip. But, my fingers keep slipping.
And, GOD, I hate hate hate being this person.
And on top of all this shit, there’s a primary to vote in tomorrow. The hits. They just keep comin’.
Our monitor took a good long piss on us last week. Now I am looking at one of those gargantuan monitors. It hurts my head.
My car is making a funny noise. Now I am driving it very trepidatiously around town.
I may get a job offer today, and I wonder if it will be worth my while.
My freezer is filled with Christmas cookies. I am one baking Hot Mama.
Since deciding to watch nothing but QVC from now on, my mother has procured for me the following goodies:
1. Silicone bake ware. Do you bake on silicone? You should. Nothing sticks to those sumbitches.
2. Two sets of tupperwarish storage bowls.
3. A set of stone bake ware. These are the marvelous things.
4. Some bowls that are made of silicone that are bendy. I’m not entirely sure what to do with those, but the picture shows that you can pour liquids out of them with ease. I guess I will be pouring.
5. All new stainless steel measuring spoons like the pros use. And, also, measuring spoons. The spoons even come with “smidge”, “dash”, and “pinch”. I will tell you that a pinch is a lot more than you thought it was. I am looking forward to becoming a Measuring Pro.
6. Porcelain Angel plug ins that smell like vanilla.
7. A ceramic/iron casserole dish that is a lovely shade of blue-greenish.
My mother will be 50 on Friday. I am making her an ice-cream cake. I can do this, now that I have all of the above provisions.
Yes. You MAY call me Ina.
I was shopping in the Walmarts today and I drooled on myself. I’m not really sure how in the hell that one happened, but it did. One minute I’m bending over to pick up some Cheezits, and the next, I’m slurping spittle back into my mouth. What’d you expect me to do? Spit on the Walmarts floor? I spit on YOU!!
I bought my Gramma one of those new Tickle Me Elmo gadgets for Christmas. It will tickle ME watching her tickle HIM! Trust me. This gift will be killer.
I also bought my mom a locket. She has bought her daughters lockets and will put her picture in them and we will get them when she’s gone. This is morbid. It makes my skin crawl, I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t really know what to buy her for Christmas. So I decided to get her a locket and put a picture that I really love of the two of us in it. I will then bury it with her. And, I also told this story to the jewelry counter girl at the Walmarts. Had she not made me stand there so long waiting for her to acknowledge me while she tried on a myriad of watches, I wouldn’t have bothered telling the story. But, she pissed me off, and I wanted to make her pay. Nothing like a little dose of death to do the trick.
The locket is silver with a pink rosy thing on it and its engraved with “forever in my heart”. I think this, also, will be a stellar gift. I’m on a roll.
And, with nothing really to segue into this: My dog really likes to dominate. If you are sitting on the couch, she will come and put her paws on either shoulder and just stand there with her chest in your face. I can’t figure out if she just wants her belly rubbed, or if she wants to play-fight. Either makes her happy.
I’ve found, recently, that she really likes it when you pretend to bite her while she is pretend biting you. So, I do it. Sure, I come out with a mouth full of dog hairs, but she’s having the effing time of her life. She play-bites my arm, I play-bite hers. Oh, and you also have to growl. But, she really doesn’t like a real sounding growl. If I really growl like her, she looks around to see what in the hell that was. She likes a fake sounding growl. So, I do it.
I’m obviously spending way to much time with Dharma.
But, really? Who could blame me?
I just finished helping my mom file for social security benefits.
Golly! I can’t wait til its MY turn to file. Hopefully by then they will have made the process even MORE rhetorical.
I’ve just finished filing for unemployment. This is no easy feat. They ask you questions that don’t really make any sense. Open ended questions that you could really have like 42 answers to. They asked what my gross income was for the last “period” of employment for my previous employer. I’ve worked for this company for almost 10 years. Do they really want my gross income for the last 10 years? I HOPE they wanted the last YEAR, because thats what I gave ’em. My mom said thats what they want, so here’s hoping.
I was just actually speaking to my previous employer on the phone. She asked if I was enjoying myself. I said yes. She asked me not to hold anything back. We laughed. I said this gives me a lot of opportunity to do a lot of different things. But, its not exactly conducive to getting my creative juices flowing. I have tons of ideas in my head, but haven’t actually put anything to paper.
I have to finish my youngest brothers scrapbook because my mom can’t do it. I have to finish it for his graduation in June. Its almost done, so I don’t see any real problem in getting it finished. Also, my mom gave me all of her scrapbooking goodies so that’s a bonus. I guess. I told BH the other day that I always hated that my mom has so much Stuff, but part of me always wanted some of that stuff, and now that its mine, I feel awful.
My mother wants me to have all her crafting supplies. They are minion, my Friends. You have no idea. And, I’m not particularly “crafty” though I am “artsy” so I can make it work. But getting all this stuff (which I will immediately pare down to a manageable size) doesn’t feel as good as if I had gotten it for Christmas or my birthday or something. I’m getting it, because a) she doesn’t have the strength in her right arm to do anything, and b) because she won’t be around to use it. If I gave it a lot of thought, it would depress me, so I just don’t really think about it a lot.
Thats not to say that I’m not thinking about it at all. But, I’m thinking about it internally! Oh yeah! Thats how Mama Deals With Things. I keep it all inside. You know. Until it starts oozing out of my skin in the form of eczema which is AWESOME. And, its also on my palms which is equally AWESOME. And, also there was a migraine the other night. I haven’t had one of those since I got pregnant (that was the best part of getting knocked up and subsequently ginormously huge and fat and disgusting…my lifelong affliction with the migraine just poof went away).
So yeah. There’s that.
You want ME in a crisis. I am levelheaded and task oriented. I shine in a crisis. Keeping it all together, and most importantly IN, just give me something to look forward to. And, that, my little Ducks, is Therapy. Can’t wait.
Really though. The secret to my coping mechanism is simple as this: It is well with my soul. (sorry for the crappy site. It really IS the best I could do. Hymns are just not “cool”!!)
Okay. So there’s only one extra. But Holden is becoming increasingly irritated with her. She is my four year old neice, Maya. She is four. Four, okay? You nasty little eight year old. If I hear, “Oh. My. GOSH. UGH.” one more time, I swear I am going to stick my entire foot down my own throat. Why would I do that? I dunno. Sounds more painless than hearing my eight year old get all frustrated with Maya. Who, as I have mentioned, is four.
I went to my mom’s today. I went there to pack up all of her “work clothes” that she wants to donate to a battered women’s shelter. The thing I have to tell you about my mom is that she is a Buyer. Like nothing else on earth will satiate her unless she is buying Stuff. Before, it was clothes. Now, it is crap from QVC. For us. Yay.
But, back to the packing…My other neice, who is nine, lives with my my folks, and her bedroom is in my mom’s “clothes room”. This room used to be filled with racks and racks of work clothes until Chloe moved in. We weedled them down a bit and put the remaining clothes in the WALK IN CLOSET in this room. Along with EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD.
So, I packed up the clothes and then I set to cleaning this room out for Chloe. Heaven help me, I started working on this room at 9am, and finally finished at 5pm. No lunch break. “Laid Off” my ass.
I swear to God, I threw away no less than 10 tote bags that Mom was keeping Just In Case. The things I threw away…If I told you, you’d be disgusted. I am disgusted. I am not a Keeper. I am a Throw Awayer. And, I cannot deal with Gluttony. I just can’t.
Nonetheless: the room is clean. 8 hours worth of clean.
I’d much rather do it now, than later, too. We still need to go clean out her office. I am not looking forward to this. That will be like 20 YEARS of crap to clean.
Do not get me wrong, here…I know I sound so crass. But, I will never remember my mom by the Stuff that she had, or the inordinate amounts of Stuff that she gave me. Getting rid of so much of the things that my mom identified herself with was very hard. I had a breakdown in the middle of the closet. But, Stuff does not a person make. I try very hard to let her know that every time I see or talk to her. I will remember her so many other things. Gluttonous nature aside.
In other news, Holden is learing My Favorite Things in music class. I cannot tell you how much this pleases me. We have been singing it all night long. My son has the voice of a thousand angels, I tell you.
tap, tap. Hey, Internets, Its me Jennifer. You still out there?
GAAAAAAAAAAD. The cable guy just left my house. I had to hold myself back from making mad passionate love to him for giving my connection to the Outer Limits back to me. Funny thing? I went to high school with the cable fixer guy. Thanks, Matt. YOU are a peach.
I don’t know where to start. Its been so long, so I’ll start now, and go backward.
FIRST GROUPING OF THOUGHTS
The conversation I had with my husband last night went something like this:
Me: Did you read that Herman Hesse book Demian?
BH: Yeah. I used to be really into Hesse (except he pronounces it right…) Didnt you ever read Sidhartha?
Me: No.
BH: REALLY????
(and then he really just goes on and on about how that book is a classic, and I tell him that I didnt read a lot of the classics until I was much older, and really, I dont like the classics all that much. I even really almost HATE Dickens with all his blathering and dreariness. With this he agrees with me wholeheartedly…but STILL! How could I, an avid reader, NOT have read these books??!! Oh the agony. Oh the humanity! And, while I have all this time, I really should go to the library and read every book ever written which he considers “great”.)
Me: Yeah. I dont really like Borrowing books. Not really my style.
BH: WHAT? OMG. HOW DID I EVEN MARRY YOU? I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU HATE THE LIBRARY.
Me: Huh? I dont “hate” the library. I just…what if I LIKE the book? What if I LOVE it? I cant keep it! Id have to go buy it and then never re-read it, and there it would sit on the bookshelf unloved! Plus, I dont really like the time constraints.
BH: THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! UNACCEPTABLE!! DEATH TO ALL TYRANTS!!!
Me: Books are like a photo album to me. The books that I keep, I can remember all parts of them, and have left a good chunk of my soul in each one. I can remember how I felt after finishing every one of those books on my bookshelf. I like that about reading. Like when I read Johnny Got His Gun for the first time…I read it in one day while I was laying in YOUR bed waiting for you to get home from class/work. I bawled. Its a keepsake.
BH: YOU ARE WEIRD! CALL A SHRINK!!!
Me: Bah.
Okay, so some of the words in this presentation have been changed to protect the innocent (i.e. me), but really. He did get all worked up because I’ve never read 1984. And, okay. I DO want to read it, I just havent yet. Cripe, buddy! Has he ever read the complete works of Shakespeare? Or just one work? Or ee cummings? Or Leaves of Grass? Yeah, no. So shove it.
SECOND GROUPING OF THOUGHTS
I AM reading Demian by Hermann Hesse right now (because I finished Killing Yourself to Live by my one and only, Chuck Klosterman. Really Chuck. Lets you and I get together…I mean, Im done with the drugs and all, but we could really be friends). And, already, Ive found a few sentences that spoke to me. They are as follows:
“I do not consider myself less ignorant than most people. I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question the stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.”
And this immediately made me think of my own Christianity. Which is kind of funny if youve read the book, but will be completely UNfunny, if you have no background info. But its not ha-ha funny, more of a a-ha type funny.
Essentially, the above quote IS me. This is the reason why I am such a believer. And, I dont just mean God, either. I mean everything. I do still seek, but there is just so much to know, I find that if I let my soul do the walking, I learn so much more. And, thusly, can accept so much more, because my heart is open. Wide open. Thank God, too. Because I honestly do not know if I could get through all this hell with my mom if I didnt have faith.
I remember having so much more to say about that, but, I think Im done there; lest I get too verbose.
THIRD GROUPING OF THOUGHTS, MOSTLY ALL ABOUT DISNEY.
What a blast we had! Everyone always asked how my mom did. She was FINE. We wheeled her around everywhere. She road Splash Mountain, and we got in a lot of the rides a hell of a lot sooner as we, as a whole…thanks to mom, were “handicapped”. HOWEVER, my father should have had a wheelchair!
My mom and dad had to drive since her Doctors wouldn’t allow my mother to fly. Somewhere in Kentucky, Daddio took a spill. It was slippery, see. And, Dad was wearing his Crocs. Let me interrupt myself here by saying, My dad is a bit eccentric. You dont see many 60 year old men wearing Crocs. You also dont see very many 60 year old men wearing knee lenghth leather tie up moccasins either, but this does not stop my dad. See, he is part Indian (the feather kind), and he likes to “hunt silently like his People”. Thus, the mocs. And as for the Crocs? I just dont know…But anyhoodle, he fell and hurt his hip. He limped around all four Disney parks. God bless him. And, would NOT get a chair. Because (here we go again) he was sitting in my mothers chair once when she was inside a store, and “a damn vet saluted me. I was so embarrased, I dont need a damn chair with people saluting me.” Why did the damn vet salute him, you ask? How could the damn vet possibly have known that my dad was a damn vet, too? Why that is because he wears a hat with VIETNAM VETERAN on the front with every imaginable pin commemorating every MIA, POW, Purple Heart whathaveyou. Der, dad. I think youve kind of earned the right to be saluted every once in a while.
Disney really is a magical place, though. Even Big Hands had a great time. I believe the word to use is “happy”. It really gave me hope that his inner child is not as buried as I had thought he was.
Holden had fun, the cousins had fun, the Nana and the Papa had fun, the Greats had fun, the uncles and aunts had fun.
Rained every damn day, but what are ya gonna do?
THE LAST GROUPINGS OF THOUGHTS SOME OF WHICH WILL DEPRESS YOU
Ive been home for a week now. During the day. Home! The laundry is almost done which was my project for the day. The floors are shiny, the dust is dusted, the bathrooms have been sprayed. I love this staying home thing. Its the most awesomeness ever.
I am going to my moms about twice a week (or that is the plan anyway). She is getting rid of things, which is depressing if you think about it, so I choose not to. Hospice came in and we got all signed up for that. She is well, though. She is good. She is still free to roam about at her leisure. She just wont roam for very long. Or…maybe she will. Who knows. We are all just trying to do what we can. Be by her side. Take her wherever she wants to go. Talk about death for longer periods of time than we would like…whatever makes her happy.
Im just a seeker, here, trying to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.
I'll take two of those, in Pink, please 
