Change

Change is scary.  It’s scary, and it’s hard, and it’s exciting and mysterious.  I’m feeling all of these things at the moment, and it’s exhausting.

Rowan and I are moving.  It’s not far, but it’s still change, rendering it scary by default.  We are going to be caring for my 91-year-old grandmother with Alzheimer’s.  She can no longer live alone, and she has a three bedroom house, so it only makes sense. 

I’ll get my own bedroom, the one I’ve been longing for, and Rowan will get his own room with a big bed, and we’ll get our own bathroom to boot.  Grandma will get companionship, security, and three square meals a day.  It’s a win-win.

It’s also a HUGE commitment on my part.  Sure, I’m already committed to raising Rowan, what’s another being to care for?  Honestly, it’s not the physical work that frightens me.  Watching my beloved Grandmother lose her sense of self, her sense of reality, and her sense of me is what worries me the most.  I don’t want to watch her die.

What a way to show her how much I love her though.  What an amazing opportunity to express absolute devotion and appreciation.  I have the chance to care for the matriarch of this family.  To give back to the woman who raised my dad, loves her grandchildren and great-grandchildren unconditionally, and gives without limit to anyone in need-that’s an experience I can’t pass up.

Tomorrow we will start to gradually clean out her office and guest room and start to move our things in.  We will ease into a routine, allowing all of us to feel each other out, figure out what works, and eliminate the things that don’t.  I don’t know exactly when we’ll start sleeping there, but I imagine by next weekend we’ll be close to living there full-time.

In addition to moving, another change is taking place: Rowan is starting school!  On Monday’s and Tuesday’s, he and I will be going to his friend Ezra’s house, where I will be homeschooling both of them.  They are a day apart in age, terribly funny together, and have a combined IQ that’s probably three times what mine is.  Rowan is jumping out of his skin with excitement, while I’m just thrilled to be able to teach again.  Ezra is the youngest of four boys, and ready for some one-on-one (sort of…).  It’s another win-win!

I know this move is something I’m meant to do.  It’s going to make for long and tiresome days.  I will cry and wonder how I can manage.   There will be issues that I won’t know how to deal with, and times I come close to giving up.  I will have to learn to ask for help, and then learn how to accept it. 

I imagine I learn a lot in the coming months.

February 23rd, 2011

This has got to be one of my favorite snippets from our daily life here.  I know, it’s another video, and I haven’t posted any real content in a while.  There is a lot happening here, and some big decisions to be made, and when I can let you know about them, I will. 

Anyway, here is the funny little man who I get to live with.  🙂

Strike

This Moment

{This Moment}-A Friday ritual.  A single photo-no words-capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor, and remember.  If you are inspired to do the same, leave a link of your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

An actual update

-A family member died

-We had to put a beloved pet down

-Found out my dad has skin cancer

-My grandmother is starting to show signs of Alzheimer’s

There, that’s the hard stuff out of the way, and I can move on to other stuff. 

Rowan is two and a half now, and showing signs of “only child syndrome.”  He’s not into sharing, or cooperating, or being agreeable, or the word, “yes”.  He is into questioning EVERY LITTLE THING.  A typical conversation with him goes something like this:

“Where is Bapa?”

“At work.”

“Which town?”

“Lewisburg.”

“Which Lewisburg?”

“The one in West Virginia.”

“Which West Virginia?”

“The one in the United States.”

“Which United States?”

“The one in North America.”

“Which North America?”

And well, it just goes on until with hit the universe, and both of our minds explode with the inability to comprehend anything beyond that.  This exact conversation must take place at least once an hour, or Rowan will simply cease to operate.  I wish I was kidding.

I’m still doing the same old stuff-cleaning, molding and cultivating a young child (no pressure there, right?), helping out with the homeschoolers, and just generally loving life.  Sure I struggle from time to time with certain things, but God has chosen to bless me so many times over, that I feel like a real jerk when I feel sorry for myself because I have to share a room with my son.  How petty am I, right?  How many people can actually say that ALL of their needs are met?  I need to just swallow my pride, and cowgirl up. (I can say that now because I live in the country, right?)  Bottom line, I have learned to be content with where I am, and I feel good about that.  Dare I even say that I like it here?  Nah, I don’t think I’m ready to admit that yet.

Valentine’s Day was fun and fairly relaxing.  Rowan and I made cupcakes with heart sprinkles, my sister and I spent some time together, and we had a great dinner with family from out of town.  Everyone got chocolates and a little surprise.  Rowan got a new Air Bud movie, and he was so excited that he got up REALLY early this morning to watch it.  I find it oddly amusing and ironic that I got underwear.  FROM MY MOTHER. 

Spring is showing it’s pretty face around here.  It’s supposed to hit 70 this week!  This means that I can start buying seeds and plants, and start planning my little organic garden!  It also means that all Rowan wants to do is be outside, chasing soccer balls, riding bikes, vandalising the neighbor’s driveways with chalk, and getting as muddy as possible.  I’m pretty sure he’s trying to see how much laundry he can generate in one day.  The record so far is four complete outfits.  I have high expectations though, and am positive he will reach six by the time summer arrives.

Today Rowan, my cousin, and I are going spelunking.  It’s kind of the thing to do around here when you have guests.  I think it’s because it’s the only thing to do around here.  That’s not true.  We also have cow tipping.

Spinach Ravioli

I feel like all I post about on FB anymore is food.  What I’ve cooked, what I’ve eaten, and what I’m going to cook and eat.  Nobody cares about that on FB, so I thought I’d write about it here.  🙂

Yesterday we made raviolis-FROM SCRATCH!  Now that is a labor intensive meal.  It takes a lot of time, a lot of muscle, and a lot of love.  I realize that it was my first time, so I probably took a little longer than necessary, but it took over two hours, start to finish.  That’s a long time to serve five people one meal.  More than worth it though, as it was TO DIE FOR! (Not really, it just sounds better than, IT’S TOTALLY WORTH THE SORE FOREARMS AND LOWER BACK I GOT FROM ROLLING DOUGH OUT SO THIN YOU COULD SEE THROUGH IT!  NOT TO MENTION THE HEARTBURN I GOT FROM EATING THE RAW ONIONS IN THE SALAD WE MADE AS A SIDE DISH.  OH, AND THE STAIN FROM THE GLASS OF RED WINE I SPLASHED ONTO MY SLEEVE WHEN I WAS POURING IT.)

So anyway, it was super fun, and Rowan helped out as much as possible.  When he wasn’t helping, he was quietly playing, and recruiting my aunt to play with him too.  They built towers, explored the house, played trains, and watched as I worked my butt off.  It was great.

If anyone wants the recipe, I can post it, but right now, you’re just going to get pictures of the process.

Spinach! Chopped and cooked.

 

The filling: parm cheese, spinach, eggs, garlic, parsley, olive oil, and a touch of red curry.

 

Rowan loved to kneed the dough. Really simple recipe for a great-tasting and super stretchy dough.

The filling spred onto one quarter of the dough.

 

Sealing the raviolis with the special rolling pin. I REALLY want one of those things. Thankfully I have an aunt that will let me cook with her whenever I want to. 🙂

Rowan loved it, and asked for seconds. When we got home, he was excited to tell everyone about our day. When asked what he ate, he said, "Wettuce!" All that work and remembers the lettuce...

I brought enough home for another meal, and it’s in the freezer, taking up space.  Tomorrow I will purchase a more than five dollar bottle of wine, bake a loaf of bread, and serve a feast when my extended family comes for my grandmother’s 91st birthday this weekend. 

I’m so freaking domesticated.

Oh!  And to top things off, my aunt gave me a great Tapas cookbook.  Only problem is that her dog got sprayed my a skunk, and even after four baths in de-skunking shampoo, the smell had permeated the house, including the cookbook.  So while reading through the book last night, all I could smell, and consequently think about was skunk.  I wonder if I’ll ever be able to cook tapas without gagging now….

Wordless Wednesday

Great

I know I’ve written about my Grandma Jean, and how much she means to me before, but I’m going to do it again.

She lives with us, so Rowan gets access to his Great Grandma daily.  They are the best of friends and the worst of enemies.  They love each other like siblings, and they fight like siblings.  My Grandma is almost 91, and she’s reverting back to her childhood in a lot of ways.  Emotionally they are pretty much on the same level.  Great, as Rowan calls her, likes to tease Rowan.  And he likes to react.  I often have to go into Great’s room and break up a fight, sort out an argument, or untie my son from my Grandmother’s walker.  I kid you not.  What Great lacks in physical strength to ward off a two year old, she more than makes up for in mad knot tying skills. 

He keeps going back though, and I know they have some special connection that he’ll never have with another person.  He adores her, her stash of candy, her boxes of little knick-knacks, and her computer that is solely for playing Scrabble.  Rowan sits on Great’s lap, and they make up words, and spell things that he shouldn’t know, and that she doesn’t remember that he shouldn’t know. 

This morning I was walking Gram through her regular morning routine, that she never remembers how to do.  I got her to the bathroom, made her breakfast, got her into her chair and went to let the dog out.  I left Rowan with Great so I could chase after the dog, who ran across the street. 

I don’t know what chain of events led to scene that I returned to, and I don’t want to know.  I was laughing too hard to even think about taking a picture, but I’ll do my best to describe what I saw.

Great was sitting on the floor in her nightgown, no teeth, no hearing aids, no glasses, and no bra.  (You should know that my Grandmother is rather well endowed up top.  She likes to say that she knows she’s old because her chest is in her drawers.  Yeah, not that funny coming from your grandmother….)  My son, on the other hand, was desperately trying to get a hearing aid to stay in his left ear, he had a set of teeth in his right hand, a pair of old lady glasses balanced on his tiny nose, and a bra that he could literally curl up and sleep in, draped over his shoulders.

I’m an outsider in their little club, so I didn’t even bother inquiring about the goings ons between those two.  I just trust that Rowan will grow up with a respect and love for the elderly, and a sense of humor that will get him out of (and let’s face it, into) a lot of sticky situations. 

I dread the day Rowan saunters into Great’s room, declares his presence, and isn’t met with a toothless old lady welcoming him onto her lap.  Until that day, I will allow all the crazy antics those two want to partake in.  I may roll my eyes, sigh with exasperation at my two “children”, but not for one second will I not feel incredibly grateful for her presence in both our lives.