Score

I totally kick butt at being a mom.  I also kick butt at thrift store shopping. 

Exhibit A:  I bought Rowan this pickup  truck at a thrift store for, wait for it……wait for it…….

 

THREE DOLLARS!!!!

I KNOW, RIGHT??!?!!!!

 Rowan was literally rendered speechless.  For the first half hour anyway.   Since then, he’s chattered happily about how his truck is a Ford diesel, and it’s made in “Merica!”  He’s hauled in groceries from the car, given both the real and stuffed dog multiple rides, crawled in and out of every window, on the roof, and tried to stuff his mother inside. 

"Fill 'er up, Mac!"

 

I think he likes it.  🙂

Reality

And just like that, the honeymoon is over.

I had to explain to my grandmother that her husband is dead.  He died over ten years ago, and today she asked when he was getting home from work.  I sat her down, told her he was in heaven, and she was crushed.  She seemed to understand though, and after sorting out who I was, where her sons were, and what she had on her meatloaf at lunch, she was able to carry on with her afternoon. 

I, on the other hand, have not been able to shake the feeling of utter sadness.  Not only did I have to re-experience the grief I have felt over his death, I am finally beginning to understand what my life is going to be.  I know I’m going to have to do this again.  I’m going to have to tell my grandmother that her husband of more than 50 years has long since passed, and she’s going to have to grieve again and again.  It’s heartbreaking.  And it’s exhausting.  And I don’t want to do it.  But I will, because I know it’s what I’m supposed to do, what I’m called to do, and what’s in my heart to do.

It’s sad knowing that my 2.5 year old that has never met the man, understands that Mommy’s Bapa is in heaven, but the woman who spent a lifetime with him can’t get a handle on his whereabouts. 

Every time I think about my grandma these days, the chorus from a song, by I can’t remember who, pops into my head:

Mom’s a little girl again

Talking to herself

Laughing with her friend

Some folks say she’s at the end

But me, I think it’s preschool for heaven

So while my precious grandmother continues to deteriorate, loosing her sense of self, and loosing her sense of control, I will sit in my room, sneaking bites from the hollow chocolate easter bunny I have hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk, and pray.  Right now, it’s all I know to do.

Once Upon a Time…

Rowan’s demeanor has been off the wall today-I blame the rain.  Anyway, I tried to get him to focus on one activity for several consecutive minutes, and the only thing he seemed interested in was telling stories while dangling his body upside down off his bed.

I, far less imaginative than he, didn’t come up with anything worth repeating, but Rowan’s story was just  grand.

“Rowan and Ezra played outside.  We picked up sticks.  We built a fort out of dirt.  We played with Sadie the dog.  She barked like, “WOOF!  WOOF!”  It was funny.  Ezra and Rowan laughed.  Then we played upstairs.  I played Ezra’s guitar.  Jonas played too.  Ezra played the high guitar.  He played the ginger ale song.  It made my thirsty.  Mrs. Amy gave me a chocolate kiss.  I said, “Goodbye!  143!”

The End

Pillows, nudity, and inside jokes.

I didn’t realize what an uproar not updating this blog as much as I used to would cause.  Obviously I’m not writing in here just to tick off my fan base.  Both of them. 

My sister just thrust a computer into my lap, promised to play with Rowan for a few minutes, and told me to write.  Putting me on the spot, and telling me it’s time to spew forth words full of wisdom and elegance is NOT the way to get me to perform.  I have a small case of performance anxiety.  And by small I mean a huge, whopping one.

I asked Rowan what I should write about and after much deliberation he suggested the riveting topic of pillows.  Now, I love a good pillow as much as the next guy, but as it turns out, I’m just not as enlightened on the subject as I thought. 

Kristi gently pointed out that I have yet to share the story of the time Grandma walked in on me getting dressed.  I haven’t talked about how I was standing there stark naked, and she kept talking about going out with her boyfriend, and that they were having cabbage soup for lunch, all the while I’m standing there, shivering, afraid to move, thinking that if I did, Grandma might notice that her granddaughter didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.  As amusing as that anecdote may be, I think I’ll just skip that one, and pretend it never happened.

It’s funny, as much as I have going on right now, I just don’t feel there is much to write about.  Not that anyone would care to read about, that is.  My life is just one large “you had to be there” kind of joke.  I went from a very pleasant, albeit, bland existence, to a colorful reality, that requires full participation every minute of every day. 

 I was momentarily caught off guard by how quickly everything changed.  Rowan took it the hardest though.  Moving is hard for anyone, let alone a VERY routine-oriented two year old.  Sure, it was a short-distance move, and he can visit Nana and Bapa and his old house whenever wants, but it’s not unlike a divorce.  Half of his stuff is still at his old house, in his old room.  His primary care givers are living in two separate houses, and his routine has been disrupted.  He’s starting to get the hang of things though, and every day he’s a little less clingy, and a little less whiney.  His resilience and adaptability are admirable.

Now that I have fulfilled my responsibilities as a blog owner, I am going to spend a few hours chasing Rowan and a soccer ball up and down the yard, soak up the brilliant sunshine, and be thankful for a life that I am so blessed and happy to live.

Yeah, I said it. 

I am happy.

Macho

Alas, this blog is no longer one of my priorities.  What with life and all, there is no time for such frivolities!

I wish I was kidding.  Having two people to be solely responsible for takes up a heck of a lot of time.  Who knew?

At least I’m enjoying myself.  It’s hectic, go-go-go, and clarity takes a back seat to confusion.  Always there is laughter though.  Always. 

Here’s why:

Macho

We’re Alive!

My access to the internet is pretty limited right now, but I have a few moments of peace, alone time, and the gall to sit in my car with my laptop, and steal my neighbor’s wi-fi.  I know, I’m corrupt.

Last Sunday Rowan and I officially spent our first night in the new house.  He kept me awake all night by sleeping all night.  In his own bed.  IN HIS OWN ROOM!  I couldn’t help but check on him every few hours, and every little squeak and creak I heard was him falling out of bed, crying for me, my grandma having a heart attack, her slipping and falling, or someone breaking in to steal my family.  Of course none of these things happened….Rowan happily crawled into bed with me early the next morning, and my Grandmother emerged from her room, happy, but totally clueless that we had even slept there the previous night.  

The second night was better, but the third night brought a bad reaction to Gram’s new Alzheimer’s medication.  There was puking.  Much, much puking.  It started during the night, and kept on coming up the next day.  We immediately stopped that med, and she’s started a new one, that other than making her moody, and a little weak, she has responded well to.  (She’s remembered my name three days in a row!)

Rowan has been a champ.  On Monday he started “school.”  It was red day, so he threw on his red sweats, packed his backpack, and started his school career.

 

He did his Mama proud.

We are physically and emotionally adjusting to these new circumstances, but my little family is strong, and close.  I have all the faith in the world this is going to be an adventure we’ll all remember. 

The best part of this is that Bapa is only a driveway away. 😀