So. Been dreading this one. But I guess it's time.
Let me begin by telling you a little something about my blogging. Some people have scolded me for sharing too damn much personal information on this blog. They can't understand why I would tell (in some cases) complete strangers some of the intimate details of my life and some of my innermost thoughts. Why in the world would I ever want to do that?
My answer is- Because I can't talk about it.
I have never really been a sharer. Well, let me correct that- I am not a sober sharer. When I have had a few pops in me, I have been known to talk a bit more than is sometimes wise. But sometimes not. Sometimes that bit of alcohol will loosen my tongue and that bit of worry that has been riding shotgun in my head comes spilling out. Sometimes I regret it. Lots of times, I don't.
But, when I am sober, I don't really share too much. Sure, I can shoot the shit with the best of them. But the real stuff, the big stuff, the LIFE stuff- that stays inside. It's not healthy. It makes me worry, and hurt and ache.
So now, I write it. I can share it. I can write it all down and pretend that no one will see it but me. But at least it's out. It's sometimes an infection that I have sliced into and allowed to drain. Gross, I know. But a necessary evil, to allow me to continue to live and work and love in the way that I do. To allow me to sometimes make my baby steps towards living the way that I want to.
A happy side effect is that sometimes I reach someone. Someone will tell me that what I wrote touched them. That they are thinking or feeling the same things. And then, I have suddenly become closer to them. We are the same, even just a little bit. We have beat back the dark of my loneliness a tiny bit. And that is a really good thing.
So, with that lead in- this post will be personal. If that's not your bag, just go on and do some laundry or the dishes or watch some TV. If you are insanely interested in the inner workings of my life, then feel free to read on. :)
You may remember an earlier post- round about this time last year (I think. I am too lazy to look it up, but might try to link to it later.) We had been advised that Sebastian had a heart murmur. A couple of crazy echo cardiograms later, we find out that the murmur is due to a prolapsed mitral valve. Not great, but not life threatening. All is well. I guess.
Then we found out that it was more. There was a hole. His heart is broken. So was mine. But we were still OK.
Since then, we have found out more.
Sebastian and I went for a followup echo cardiogram in December. The last one that was completed at McMaster was done when Sebastian was sedated. The pediatric cardiologist really wanted to try and get an accurate read of Sebastian's heart. He wanted to do an echo of him- not sedated, but resting and calm. An impossible mission I thought. I laid out some of the things that I thought we would need to make it happen. He had to be distracted (a TV in the room would work). He had to have his head slightly elevated (he hates to lay flat for doctors and freaks out when they try to make him.) He would need breaks about every 10 minutes. I would need to be in the room with him. If we could do all that, I was pretty sure I could get the doctor what he needed.
McMaster, being McMaster, made it happen. The echo went super smooth (apart from me smashing out the back window of my van in the parking garage just before the appointment. His heart rate might have been resting, but my blood pressure was through the roof.)
After the echo, I met with the cardiologist. He told me what I absolutely did not want to hear. Sebastian's hole was significant. It was causing enlargements in 2 of the chambers.
He needs heart surgery.
I have read about people that hear bad news and their world suddenly channels down to a single sound. They can't focus. Everything becomes blurry and unreal and quiet. I have read it. Now I have experienced it.
I know I was nodding. I was looking the doctor in the eye. We talked about the options, about the risks, and the hows and the wheres and the whys. I remembered most of it, incredibly.
But mostly, my mind was sobbing and wailing. I was banging my fists on the walls in my head, and screaming that it wasn't fucking fair. He's been through enough. I've been through enough. This isn't fair. Shut up, you stupid asshole. Stop saying those words. You are a liar and you need to shut up.
Slowly, my mental temper tantrum slowed. A calmer, more grown up voice took over. Listen. Stop and listen.
So I did.
What the doctor told me was that we basically had 2 options. If the walls of his heart were strong enough and thick enough, the hole could be patched by a shunt. It could be inserted into his heart via a catheter that would travel up from the big vein in his leg. It is, in heart surgery terms, fairly minor, and could theoretically be day surgery, barring any complications. The 2nd option was open heart surgery. They would go in and physically repair the hole. Again, in heart surgery terms, it was considered a small surgery.
Yeah, small surgery- my ass.
The decision was not mine to make. Sebastian's case had to be brought before a team of surgeons from Sick Kids in Toronto, where they would do the actual surgery. They would review the case, and the results of all of his echos and EKGs and everything. They would be the ones to make the decision that would fix his broken heart.
I wasn't going to find out until the end of January. And only if they could get his case heard in the next review. So it was a whole lot of "wait and see".
After a few more questions and alot of support from the ladies and gentlemen at McMaster, Sebastian and I left to come home. Remember what I had done in the parking lot earlier? Right- no back window. Winter time. Hour long drive back home. So much fun. Sheesh.
Sebastian and I left the parking garage. We drove down the road a bit, and I eventually pulled into a parking lot. I had texted Geoff to let him know about the window, and to ask him to call the insurance company and to get an appointment with the window people. He had been texting me back like crazy, but I couldn't answer in the hospital. I finally had a chance to call him back.
I called and he gave me the updates on the window. All was good, I just had to get home. Then he asked about the results. I am sad to say that I didn't hold it together. I didn't cry in front of the doctor. Everything that I had held in there, came out now. It wasn't fair to Geoff- never mind the fact that he probably only understood about 1 out of every 3 or 4 words- but it was bound to happen.
Sebastian telling me not to cry from his spot in the back seat brought me back. I tried to relax and to think of other things. I have held it together ever since.
It was hard to have the conversations with my parents and with Geoff's family. When I could, I told them via email. I didn't want to break again. I was worried I wouldn't be able to stop, once I started. I stuck to the facts. That's the safe stuff.
I told the immediate people that I work with. They have to cover for me, when I am not there. Again- just the facts.
And that was it. Didn't tell anyone else. Didn't want to talk about it, think about it or deal with it.
At the end of January, we got the call we had been waiting for. Sick Kids had determined that Sebastian could go the route of the catheter and shunt. Thank God. As much as I didn't talk about it, I lived with daily (and nightly) visions of my son's narrow and thin chest, being cracked open. I thought about a man that I have never met very literally holding my son's heart in his hands. I thought about the blood that keeps him alive pumping past fingers that are trying to help. God help me, I thought about him dying.
The fact that it wasn't going to happen that way was a huge relief. Huge. For a while, anyway.
About a month ago, we got the date. April 2nd. I started making plans. The practical stuff, that needs to be taken care of- who will watch Sawyer, the dog and the cats. Letting his school know that he will be out for a while. Booking the time off work. Getting Geoff out of the store to help. Where will he sleep, what will he wear, etc, etc, etc.
So. Now. It's 6 days away. And I am so scared.
I told my friends yesterday. They were lovely, as always. I expected nothing less. :)
I keep thinking about it. I very purposefully have NOT googled it. I don't want to see the surgery. I don't want to read worse case scenarios. My imagination is working on overtime as it is. I don't need the reality of what it will look like to make it that much more vivid.
There are things that I want to do before hand. Some are good- time with Sebastian, a special dinner. Maybe a movie. Some are not. I won't even talk about them here, but I think they are necessary.
One of the biggest ones was writing this down. Documenting it. For you, my friends and family and followers. For me. For him. I need to remember where I was. For better or for worse, I need to know. I need to remember. Someday, this will all be past. There will be a new crisis. And this might be the strength that I need to get through that one.
So, there we are. That's what I have been living with for the past 4 months. I would ask you for every good thought and feeling that you can spare- throw it my way. I will take it, I'm not too proud.
And for those of you that think I share too much...I warned you. Should have stopped reading 5 minutes ago. It's your own damn fault.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new heart".
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Thankful
Right now, I am thankful.
It is 12:09 as I start to write this on Saturday morning. I will go to sleep soon. I am tired in my mind, but not my body. Today wasn't a movement day. So much the worse.
It is cold. Outside, it's March and it's cold. I feel the cold coming off the fur of the dog.
So, I am thankful. Why?
- I have a little girl asleep in her bed tonight. She is so in love with her brother, she is sleeping in his pj shirt.
- I have a not so little boy asleep in his bed. He pushed his little sister down today. When I yelled and told him it was not right for him to put his hands on her like that, he wore his sad face. When I sent him to bed early, he agreed and went without an arguement. He was devestated that he had hurt her.
- My little girl asked to wash my hair for me tonight. She did a great job mothering me.
- My boy used his quiet sleepy voice to tell me about his day. He told me about his trip to the Sugar Bush. He glowed when he talked about the hay ride with the horses.
- My little girl heals me. I have a scratch on my leg. She didn't want to kiss it better, because it looked "gross". When I kissed her kitten scratch on her hand, she changed her mind. She kissed my leg and kissed my face.
- My boy didn't want to wear snow pants today. In his words, he already had pants on- don't need new pants. Love that. He couldn't climb into his seat in the van because his pants were "too big".
- My girl spent the day with a spot of chocolate on her nose.
- My boy has kleenex dust in his hair, lips and on his nose.
- My girl changed her socks 4 times today...the last pair was a Christmas pair with Santa's face all over it.
- My boy's pants were falling down most of the day. He would give me his half laugh every time I would tell him to cover his butt.
I need nothing but them to make me thankful. There is more, in my life to be thankful for. But they make it easy. Even when it's not. Even when it's impossible.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new adventures every day."
It is 12:09 as I start to write this on Saturday morning. I will go to sleep soon. I am tired in my mind, but not my body. Today wasn't a movement day. So much the worse.
It is cold. Outside, it's March and it's cold. I feel the cold coming off the fur of the dog.
So, I am thankful. Why?
- I have a little girl asleep in her bed tonight. She is so in love with her brother, she is sleeping in his pj shirt.
- I have a not so little boy asleep in his bed. He pushed his little sister down today. When I yelled and told him it was not right for him to put his hands on her like that, he wore his sad face. When I sent him to bed early, he agreed and went without an arguement. He was devestated that he had hurt her.
- My little girl asked to wash my hair for me tonight. She did a great job mothering me.
- My boy used his quiet sleepy voice to tell me about his day. He told me about his trip to the Sugar Bush. He glowed when he talked about the hay ride with the horses.
- My little girl heals me. I have a scratch on my leg. She didn't want to kiss it better, because it looked "gross". When I kissed her kitten scratch on her hand, she changed her mind. She kissed my leg and kissed my face.
- My boy didn't want to wear snow pants today. In his words, he already had pants on- don't need new pants. Love that. He couldn't climb into his seat in the van because his pants were "too big".
- My girl spent the day with a spot of chocolate on her nose.
- My boy has kleenex dust in his hair, lips and on his nose.
- My girl changed her socks 4 times today...the last pair was a Christmas pair with Santa's face all over it.
- My boy's pants were falling down most of the day. He would give me his half laugh every time I would tell him to cover his butt.
I need nothing but them to make me thankful. There is more, in my life to be thankful for. But they make it easy. Even when it's not. Even when it's impossible.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new adventures every day."
Monday, March 4, 2013
Horses
Today was supposed to be Sebastian's first horseback riding lesson.
Through his school, the Little Brick Schoolhouse, he and the other kids were going out to a riding stable once a month to work with the horses and to ride. He started in August, when they had just a one-time outing. It was $25 and I thought "what the hell?" I had wanted to put him in therapy riding for a long time, but with his anxieties and fears, I didn't know if I would ever get him near a horse, let alone on it. But for $25, I was willing to try.
That first trip, it took 45 minutes, but they finally got him on for 5 minutes. And best part was- he liked it. He wasn't traumitized at all. He had fun and wanted to go back again.
After a couple of months, he was doing about 15 or 20 minutes at a time, being led in the ring. He was also helping with the saddling and brushing down afterwards.
For Christmas, because Sebastian is so incredibly difficult to buy for, I had advised the family to try and get him experiences, rather than things. And my first suggestion was riding lessons. They wholeheartedly agreed, and that's what my mom, Geoff's mom and Geoff's sister did.
I wasn't too keen on trying to do lessons in the heart of winter, so I held off on calling for a couple of months after Christmas. When I finally got a hold of the guy, he suggested today as a good day to start.
Yesterday, we picked up a helmet for him (he has to have one, since he is under 18) and have been prepping him all week. My mom and dad got him from school, then came to pick up Sawyer and I and off we went.
Unfortunately, it was too cold to ride today, according to the experts, but they didn't have my contact information in order to call me and cancel. So we made the trip with no prize at the end. However, the one boy, Jake, a co-op student that works there, was super sweet and introduced us to lots of the horses, including a 2 month old baby horse. Her/His name is Heart, because she has a white heart shaped mark on her forehead. My dad got to pet him/her, which I guess is pretty rare, since she is still a little wary of strangers. I got to meet a big fella, who decided that he and I were going to be good friends. He pushed that big ole head of his right through the fence and into my stomach. I had no choice but to hug and pet him. Love him already. Even my mom, who isn't a big fan of horses since my brother was kicked by one as a little boy at a carnival, put aside her nervousness and stroked a few noses. Sawyer was extremely scared of them in the beginning, but by the time we left, she had patted Thunder's nose and was running between the white horse that would nod yes and the pony that was working in the riding ring. She was pretty much yelling at the top of her lungs and had no grasp of manners, which is a good indicator that she was crazy excited.
It was good to be in a barn , surrounded by nice people that wanted to be helpful, both to us and the animals. It was nice to smell the smells, and walk with my kids to pet and greet all of them. I can't wait to go back.
On the ride home, I was talking to Sawyer. I told her that I thought there wasn't much on Earth that was softer than a horse's nose. That smooth, velvet part was pretty much the best thing in the world to pet. She looked and me and said:
"I wish you had fur. I would pet you, you would be nice to pet".
And so ends our time at the farm, for today.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "next time, we go ridin'!"
Through his school, the Little Brick Schoolhouse, he and the other kids were going out to a riding stable once a month to work with the horses and to ride. He started in August, when they had just a one-time outing. It was $25 and I thought "what the hell?" I had wanted to put him in therapy riding for a long time, but with his anxieties and fears, I didn't know if I would ever get him near a horse, let alone on it. But for $25, I was willing to try.
That first trip, it took 45 minutes, but they finally got him on for 5 minutes. And best part was- he liked it. He wasn't traumitized at all. He had fun and wanted to go back again.
After a couple of months, he was doing about 15 or 20 minutes at a time, being led in the ring. He was also helping with the saddling and brushing down afterwards.
For Christmas, because Sebastian is so incredibly difficult to buy for, I had advised the family to try and get him experiences, rather than things. And my first suggestion was riding lessons. They wholeheartedly agreed, and that's what my mom, Geoff's mom and Geoff's sister did.
I wasn't too keen on trying to do lessons in the heart of winter, so I held off on calling for a couple of months after Christmas. When I finally got a hold of the guy, he suggested today as a good day to start.
Yesterday, we picked up a helmet for him (he has to have one, since he is under 18) and have been prepping him all week. My mom and dad got him from school, then came to pick up Sawyer and I and off we went.
Unfortunately, it was too cold to ride today, according to the experts, but they didn't have my contact information in order to call me and cancel. So we made the trip with no prize at the end. However, the one boy, Jake, a co-op student that works there, was super sweet and introduced us to lots of the horses, including a 2 month old baby horse. Her/His name is Heart, because she has a white heart shaped mark on her forehead. My dad got to pet him/her, which I guess is pretty rare, since she is still a little wary of strangers. I got to meet a big fella, who decided that he and I were going to be good friends. He pushed that big ole head of his right through the fence and into my stomach. I had no choice but to hug and pet him. Love him already. Even my mom, who isn't a big fan of horses since my brother was kicked by one as a little boy at a carnival, put aside her nervousness and stroked a few noses. Sawyer was extremely scared of them in the beginning, but by the time we left, she had patted Thunder's nose and was running between the white horse that would nod yes and the pony that was working in the riding ring. She was pretty much yelling at the top of her lungs and had no grasp of manners, which is a good indicator that she was crazy excited.
It was good to be in a barn , surrounded by nice people that wanted to be helpful, both to us and the animals. It was nice to smell the smells, and walk with my kids to pet and greet all of them. I can't wait to go back.
On the ride home, I was talking to Sawyer. I told her that I thought there wasn't much on Earth that was softer than a horse's nose. That smooth, velvet part was pretty much the best thing in the world to pet. She looked and me and said:
"I wish you had fur. I would pet you, you would be nice to pet".
And so ends our time at the farm, for today.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "next time, we go ridin'!"
Friday, March 1, 2013
Today
So, after the drama of yesterday and just the overall general hecticness of the week and my pending busyness of next week and such, I was really hoping for a good, quiet day today.
I got it. Kinda.
First of all, everyone went to school. That right there is a win. With the cold and flu season being what it has been this winter, this is nothing to take for granted. Pretty much at least one day a week for the last month or so, someone has been home- either for a cold, or flu, or a snow day, or an early release, or a PA day, or whatever! I enjoy my time from 9am until 315pm when there is no one but me and the dog and the cats roaming the house.
Second, my furnace worked. We had to put in a new furnace this year (and yes, I caved and got a central A/C too. Two houses and 15 years of marriage and this is the first central a/c we have had. I have pretty much guaranteed us the coldest summer on record. Sorry 'bout that.) Today was chilly and I turned up the thermostat a couple of degrees (from 69 to 71). It was cold enough in here, before we got the new furnace at the beginning of December, that I have a true appreciation for that simple noise of a newly turned on furnace. Bliss.
Third, I was mystery reader for Sawyer's school and it was a true surprise for her. I had to give them 5 hints on who I was. They are supposed to read the hints through the day and try to guess who it is. Unfortunately, the teachers forgot I was coming. Thank goodness I showed up about 10 minutes early. That let them write out the hints, run through them with the class and get them all settled down and ready to listen. I was supposed to go in, and say something. They all have their heads down and eyes closed and are supposed to guess who I am from my voice (of course, only Sawyer would know.) But the monkey was peeking as I walked in, so she knew right away. That's ok, she said she had guessed it from the hints anyway, which was, after all the point.
I brought 2 stories- "The Paperbag Princess" and "If you give a moose a muffin". They had recently read The Paperbag Princess, so I read the Muffin book. I did a good job, if I do say so myself! The kids got to ask me questions before and after. My, they do love their questions..
"What's your favourite colour?"
"What's your favourite food?"
"What's your phone number?"
"What colour is your house?" (when I said brown and white and black, he told me those were boring colours. I agreed.)
"What is your favourite drink?"
"What is your favourite animal?"
"How old are you?" (I did tell them I had a big birthday coming up. I asked Sawyer to tell them how old I was going to be and she said 14. I said I would take it. The rest of the guesses ranged from 18 to 100. Forty seemed anticlimactic after that, although I was genuinely touched by the teacher's surprise, since she guessed 30. Yeah me.)
The class introduced me to Pete the Cat and I got to hold the book, while we listened to the CD. Then we did Tribbles. I picked Sawyer to go first and she was Orange (very happy) because I was there. She passed it to me, and I was orange too. Everyone else got to go. It was pretty funny. I would definitely do it again.
Fourthly, I found "All Creatures Great and Small" on Netflix. I am really excited about that. When my Grandma died, I found her old beat up copy of the book. My mom told me it was one of her favourite. I had never read it, but I ended up loving it too. The cover has fallen off and it is beat to shit. I keep thinking that I would like to get a new copy, but I would like a special one- like a special or early edition or something. One of those bucket list type things, I guess. Anyway, I am excited to have found the show, and can't wait to start watching it.
Lastly, I got my first edition of my new subscription in. I have flipped through it, but I can't wait to read it cover to cover. It is creating a longing in me. Chickens and gardens and homeschooling, oh my. I keep telling myself to have patience. All things in due time.
Oh, I forgot. The kids are having a sleep over in Sebastian's bed. So far so good. Last time, it only lasted 20 minutes. This time, it's been almost an hour. I hope they have fun.
So, good day. Still drama, still stress. Still all the silly things that interfere. But over and above all of that stuff, good stuff.
Orange Tribble, for sure.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "newest superstar of Mrs. Wilshire's JK class".
I got it. Kinda.
First of all, everyone went to school. That right there is a win. With the cold and flu season being what it has been this winter, this is nothing to take for granted. Pretty much at least one day a week for the last month or so, someone has been home- either for a cold, or flu, or a snow day, or an early release, or a PA day, or whatever! I enjoy my time from 9am until 315pm when there is no one but me and the dog and the cats roaming the house.
Second, my furnace worked. We had to put in a new furnace this year (and yes, I caved and got a central A/C too. Two houses and 15 years of marriage and this is the first central a/c we have had. I have pretty much guaranteed us the coldest summer on record. Sorry 'bout that.) Today was chilly and I turned up the thermostat a couple of degrees (from 69 to 71). It was cold enough in here, before we got the new furnace at the beginning of December, that I have a true appreciation for that simple noise of a newly turned on furnace. Bliss.
Third, I was mystery reader for Sawyer's school and it was a true surprise for her. I had to give them 5 hints on who I was. They are supposed to read the hints through the day and try to guess who it is. Unfortunately, the teachers forgot I was coming. Thank goodness I showed up about 10 minutes early. That let them write out the hints, run through them with the class and get them all settled down and ready to listen. I was supposed to go in, and say something. They all have their heads down and eyes closed and are supposed to guess who I am from my voice (of course, only Sawyer would know.) But the monkey was peeking as I walked in, so she knew right away. That's ok, she said she had guessed it from the hints anyway, which was, after all the point.
 |
| My hints. |
"What's your favourite colour?"
"What's your favourite food?"
"What's your phone number?"
"What colour is your house?" (when I said brown and white and black, he told me those were boring colours. I agreed.)
"What is your favourite drink?"
"What is your favourite animal?"
"How old are you?" (I did tell them I had a big birthday coming up. I asked Sawyer to tell them how old I was going to be and she said 14. I said I would take it. The rest of the guesses ranged from 18 to 100. Forty seemed anticlimactic after that, although I was genuinely touched by the teacher's surprise, since she guessed 30. Yeah me.)
The class introduced me to Pete the Cat and I got to hold the book, while we listened to the CD. Then we did Tribbles. I picked Sawyer to go first and she was Orange (very happy) because I was there. She passed it to me, and I was orange too. Everyone else got to go. It was pretty funny. I would definitely do it again.
Fourthly, I found "All Creatures Great and Small" on Netflix. I am really excited about that. When my Grandma died, I found her old beat up copy of the book. My mom told me it was one of her favourite. I had never read it, but I ended up loving it too. The cover has fallen off and it is beat to shit. I keep thinking that I would like to get a new copy, but I would like a special one- like a special or early edition or something. One of those bucket list type things, I guess. Anyway, I am excited to have found the show, and can't wait to start watching it.
Lastly, I got my first edition of my new subscription in. I have flipped through it, but I can't wait to read it cover to cover. It is creating a longing in me. Chickens and gardens and homeschooling, oh my. I keep telling myself to have patience. All things in due time.
Orange Tribble, for sure.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "newest superstar of Mrs. Wilshire's JK class".
Thursday, February 28, 2013
To be amazing
Today, I was thinking about what I wanted to post tonight. I was going to post a write up about how I wanted to be amazing. Not just be amazing, but be soooo amazing that other people are thrown into a complete state of awe about my amazing-osity, and just have to remark about it. I want to be so amazing that I hear about it all the time, and I am a little bit embarrassed when people feel the need to gush over me.
That's how amazing I want to be.
Ok, I admit, I am feeling a little low. A bit under appreciated, and taken for granted. I do my best for people that really don't believe in much feedback or reinforcement. Wait, that's not fair, and it is not true. Sebastian says thank you all the time. He touches my face and brushes my hair. He tells me I am beautiful and funny. He asks me every single day "How are you feeling today, Mommy?" and "How was your sleeps last night?" But he can also be incredibly selfish and demanding and short-sighted. He is obsessive and completly focused on his own wants and needs. It is part of the disorder, and one we work on. He is also an 11 year old boy, by it's very nature a selfish beast.
Sawyer can also be loving and sweet and complimentary. When I was talking to myself about my wrinkles around my eyes the other day, she took my face in her hands and kissed my crows feet. She told me that I have magic eyes. Who can't love that?? But she too can try to run the house like a little dictator and can sometimes need to be reminded of her p's and q's. She always wants to help and to be involved, but can run low on patience alot of the time. And Geoff...well, he's just never here. When he is, he's asleep. No help there.
So, I was having myself a nice little pity party tonight. As I went about my nightly routine, dinner and homework and games and cleaning...I kept thinking about all of the lavish praise that I would love to have heaped on my head. I had a nice little fantasy going, where friend and family and even random strangers felt this uncontrollable need to pull me aside and say "Anita, I just have to tell you...I have no idea how you do what you do...I am in awe because....." The stream of imaginary compliments was endless.
I had even gone so far as to plan a blog about it. I was going to compliment myself. I was going to give myself the recognition that I (selfishly) thought at the time that I deserved. I was going to point out all those little things, the day to day things, the never ending, completely selfless, heartbreakingly enduring things that have just become a part of my daily routine. Those things that, seriously, no one but me thinks about. I was already writing it in my head.
Then it fell apart.
It started innocently enough. Sawyer is going to speech therapy (just started yesterday) and we have a bit of homework. There are some sheets, with games and puzzles and other fun things, that will help her with her end-of-word S sound. She asked if we could play, so we did.
We had gone through 3 homework sheets already, and she wanted to start on the 4th. I was starting to watch the clock, knowing we were running close on time, for baths before bed. Sebastian has snuck TV tonight when I was working overtime, so I wanted to try and cut him off, before he reached hour 4 (yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Every day's a new battle.) I told her this was enough and we were done. She got "that look". The lowered head, the glare under her bangs. Arms crossed and an ever increasing volume to her "hrrmphs!!" to let me know how displeased she is. I started to pack up the papers and little bits and she went off.
"NO!" Screams it. I stop picking up, look at her with my own mom look, shake my head. Start cleaning up again.
"NOOOO!!!" Really loud now. Seriously, she went from 0 to 100 mph, in about 5 seconds.
I know this. She doesn't do it often and most times, it's because she's tired. I also know that once she gets going, there is little that I can do to derail Supertrain Sawyer, except let her run herself down.
I tell her at this point that I don't like the way that she is talking to me. If she can't be polite and talk kindly to me, then we are truly done and that she can go to her room until she is ready to be a nice girl again. This goes nowhere, and after one more extremely loud NO yelled in my face, I scoop her up and carry her to her room. Trust me, there is no anger on my part in this. I don't like it, but I also understand what she is going through. Anger and disappointment are very hard things to control. Once they are unleashed, you can't reign them back in. She is still learning that control. I don't fault her for raging. In fact, I wish I could do it more often.
But I digress.
I take her to her room, plunk her on the bed and ask her to please stay there for a few minutes. She is crying now and screaming. I walk to the door, and shut it tight. I hear her follow me to the now shut door. The kicking starts a couple of seconds later.
After about 5 good blows to the door, I head back in. She is fuming. I try and talk to her, to get her to think through the cause and effect of what happened. We were playing. Mommy stopped the game. Mommy made Sawyer go to her room. What happened that made that happen? I can see her thinking, but no way, no how is she giving up the goods. She hauls her foot back to kick the door again. Instead, she boots the cat that was twining it's way between her feet.
Right away, her face goes white. The switch from anger to fear is immediate. She darts a look at me and immediately hangs her head, embarrassed and afraid of my reaction. I do raise my voice because I want this to imprint on her, to be a lesson she remembers.
I talk to her about bullies, and how bullies lash out to hurt other people when they are angry. She knows about bullies from school talks and from conversations with me. She doesn't like them. They are the ulitmate bad guys to her right now. I tell her that I know it was an accident, but when you get that angry, it becomes much too easy to hurt someone else, either with your hands or feet or even your words.
But she isn't ready to listen. She is embarrassed, but the anger is still there, and it's starting to muffle my message. I decide to leave her to herself again, to think. I shut the door.
I gather Sebastian up and get him moving on his evening clean ups. I tidy the kitchen and living room. I am just heading back upstairs with laundry, when I hear her voice through her door. She is talking to herself, loudly and determinedly.
I squat by her door to listen.
"I don't like Mommy. I always don't like her. She is mean. She is soooo mean. And rude. Mean and rude. I don't like Mommy at all today or always".
At first I smile a little. The drama queen is in full swing. I sit on the floor to see if anything else comes up in the conversation with herself. The dog, who still loves me, lays his head in my lap. The cats come close and snuggle. We all listen to her rant and rave and rage behind her closed door.
The message stays the same. But it continues. Sometimes she cries with the force of her words and the feelings behind it. One time, she says she only likes Daddy. I think that was the point that I realized that I had stopped smiling and started crying.
Oh, she broke my heart.
It is silly to say it. She's 4. I know that she really doesn't mean the words. But then, again, she does. She does mean them. At that exact moment, with the feeling and emotion that is wrapped in her little body, she means every single bit of it. I know she will love me tomorrow. I know that she loves me now. But she also thinks that I am the worst thing in her life right now. It was a hard pill to swallow.
So now, I have a choice. What do I do? Do I kick in the door and tell her that I am none too fond of her either? No, no way.
Do I ignore it, and pretend I didn't hear it? Chalk it up to a 4 year old temper tantrum and leave it be?
Do I turn this into a lecture and a lesson? Reinforce that "words can hurt" message that I just delivered?
What to do?
I decided to just talk to her. And just before I knocked on that door, I realized how truly un-amazing I was. How greedy and selfish and self-absorbed. And I was ashamed.
I knocked and she answered. All I said was "Sawyer, I could hear what you were saying." And she shut the door. Slowly. No slam.
I stayed there, and waited. After a minute, she opened the door again. Just looked at me. And I looked at her. She tried to smile and look away and play with the cats. I didn't say anything. Just waited.
Eventually she took a step out. I asked her how she thought I was feeling right then. Was I mad? Was I happy?
"Sad". So soft. Just a whisper really.
"Do you know why?"
"Because I said mean things."
"No, Sawyer. It's because I think that my little girl doesn't like me, and it breaks my heart." I can barely get it out, through the tears.
Before I finish the sentence, she throws herself across the hall and wraps her whole body around me. She and I both cry, together, I can feel her shake. This is real, raw.
Finally, I pull back and she kisses my cheek. She doesn't say sorry. She asks if I want to watch TV with her. I said no, that I was tired. She comes back and hugs me hard again, and stays that way for a long time. Finally, I pat her, and say it's time to get ready for bed. She does so, without arguement.
Did I handle that right? I have no idea. All I can say is that it was honest. Hopefully that's good enough.
So, I'm not amazing. I'm barely getting by. Right now, I am happy with "good enough".
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "no parades and parties here. Just another regular day."
That's how amazing I want to be.
Ok, I admit, I am feeling a little low. A bit under appreciated, and taken for granted. I do my best for people that really don't believe in much feedback or reinforcement. Wait, that's not fair, and it is not true. Sebastian says thank you all the time. He touches my face and brushes my hair. He tells me I am beautiful and funny. He asks me every single day "How are you feeling today, Mommy?" and "How was your sleeps last night?" But he can also be incredibly selfish and demanding and short-sighted. He is obsessive and completly focused on his own wants and needs. It is part of the disorder, and one we work on. He is also an 11 year old boy, by it's very nature a selfish beast.
Sawyer can also be loving and sweet and complimentary. When I was talking to myself about my wrinkles around my eyes the other day, she took my face in her hands and kissed my crows feet. She told me that I have magic eyes. Who can't love that?? But she too can try to run the house like a little dictator and can sometimes need to be reminded of her p's and q's. She always wants to help and to be involved, but can run low on patience alot of the time. And Geoff...well, he's just never here. When he is, he's asleep. No help there.
So, I was having myself a nice little pity party tonight. As I went about my nightly routine, dinner and homework and games and cleaning...I kept thinking about all of the lavish praise that I would love to have heaped on my head. I had a nice little fantasy going, where friend and family and even random strangers felt this uncontrollable need to pull me aside and say "Anita, I just have to tell you...I have no idea how you do what you do...I am in awe because....." The stream of imaginary compliments was endless.
I had even gone so far as to plan a blog about it. I was going to compliment myself. I was going to give myself the recognition that I (selfishly) thought at the time that I deserved. I was going to point out all those little things, the day to day things, the never ending, completely selfless, heartbreakingly enduring things that have just become a part of my daily routine. Those things that, seriously, no one but me thinks about. I was already writing it in my head.
Then it fell apart.
It started innocently enough. Sawyer is going to speech therapy (just started yesterday) and we have a bit of homework. There are some sheets, with games and puzzles and other fun things, that will help her with her end-of-word S sound. She asked if we could play, so we did.
We had gone through 3 homework sheets already, and she wanted to start on the 4th. I was starting to watch the clock, knowing we were running close on time, for baths before bed. Sebastian has snuck TV tonight when I was working overtime, so I wanted to try and cut him off, before he reached hour 4 (yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Every day's a new battle.) I told her this was enough and we were done. She got "that look". The lowered head, the glare under her bangs. Arms crossed and an ever increasing volume to her "hrrmphs!!" to let me know how displeased she is. I started to pack up the papers and little bits and she went off.
"NO!" Screams it. I stop picking up, look at her with my own mom look, shake my head. Start cleaning up again.
"NOOOO!!!" Really loud now. Seriously, she went from 0 to 100 mph, in about 5 seconds.
I know this. She doesn't do it often and most times, it's because she's tired. I also know that once she gets going, there is little that I can do to derail Supertrain Sawyer, except let her run herself down.
I tell her at this point that I don't like the way that she is talking to me. If she can't be polite and talk kindly to me, then we are truly done and that she can go to her room until she is ready to be a nice girl again. This goes nowhere, and after one more extremely loud NO yelled in my face, I scoop her up and carry her to her room. Trust me, there is no anger on my part in this. I don't like it, but I also understand what she is going through. Anger and disappointment are very hard things to control. Once they are unleashed, you can't reign them back in. She is still learning that control. I don't fault her for raging. In fact, I wish I could do it more often.
But I digress.
I take her to her room, plunk her on the bed and ask her to please stay there for a few minutes. She is crying now and screaming. I walk to the door, and shut it tight. I hear her follow me to the now shut door. The kicking starts a couple of seconds later.
After about 5 good blows to the door, I head back in. She is fuming. I try and talk to her, to get her to think through the cause and effect of what happened. We were playing. Mommy stopped the game. Mommy made Sawyer go to her room. What happened that made that happen? I can see her thinking, but no way, no how is she giving up the goods. She hauls her foot back to kick the door again. Instead, she boots the cat that was twining it's way between her feet.
Right away, her face goes white. The switch from anger to fear is immediate. She darts a look at me and immediately hangs her head, embarrassed and afraid of my reaction. I do raise my voice because I want this to imprint on her, to be a lesson she remembers.
I talk to her about bullies, and how bullies lash out to hurt other people when they are angry. She knows about bullies from school talks and from conversations with me. She doesn't like them. They are the ulitmate bad guys to her right now. I tell her that I know it was an accident, but when you get that angry, it becomes much too easy to hurt someone else, either with your hands or feet or even your words.
But she isn't ready to listen. She is embarrassed, but the anger is still there, and it's starting to muffle my message. I decide to leave her to herself again, to think. I shut the door.
I gather Sebastian up and get him moving on his evening clean ups. I tidy the kitchen and living room. I am just heading back upstairs with laundry, when I hear her voice through her door. She is talking to herself, loudly and determinedly.
I squat by her door to listen.
"I don't like Mommy. I always don't like her. She is mean. She is soooo mean. And rude. Mean and rude. I don't like Mommy at all today or always".
At first I smile a little. The drama queen is in full swing. I sit on the floor to see if anything else comes up in the conversation with herself. The dog, who still loves me, lays his head in my lap. The cats come close and snuggle. We all listen to her rant and rave and rage behind her closed door.
The message stays the same. But it continues. Sometimes she cries with the force of her words and the feelings behind it. One time, she says she only likes Daddy. I think that was the point that I realized that I had stopped smiling and started crying.
Oh, she broke my heart.
It is silly to say it. She's 4. I know that she really doesn't mean the words. But then, again, she does. She does mean them. At that exact moment, with the feeling and emotion that is wrapped in her little body, she means every single bit of it. I know she will love me tomorrow. I know that she loves me now. But she also thinks that I am the worst thing in her life right now. It was a hard pill to swallow.
So now, I have a choice. What do I do? Do I kick in the door and tell her that I am none too fond of her either? No, no way.
Do I ignore it, and pretend I didn't hear it? Chalk it up to a 4 year old temper tantrum and leave it be?
Do I turn this into a lecture and a lesson? Reinforce that "words can hurt" message that I just delivered?
What to do?
I decided to just talk to her. And just before I knocked on that door, I realized how truly un-amazing I was. How greedy and selfish and self-absorbed. And I was ashamed.
I knocked and she answered. All I said was "Sawyer, I could hear what you were saying." And she shut the door. Slowly. No slam.
I stayed there, and waited. After a minute, she opened the door again. Just looked at me. And I looked at her. She tried to smile and look away and play with the cats. I didn't say anything. Just waited.
Eventually she took a step out. I asked her how she thought I was feeling right then. Was I mad? Was I happy?
"Sad". So soft. Just a whisper really.
"Do you know why?"
"Because I said mean things."
"No, Sawyer. It's because I think that my little girl doesn't like me, and it breaks my heart." I can barely get it out, through the tears.
Before I finish the sentence, she throws herself across the hall and wraps her whole body around me. She and I both cry, together, I can feel her shake. This is real, raw.
Finally, I pull back and she kisses my cheek. She doesn't say sorry. She asks if I want to watch TV with her. I said no, that I was tired. She comes back and hugs me hard again, and stays that way for a long time. Finally, I pat her, and say it's time to get ready for bed. She does so, without arguement.
Did I handle that right? I have no idea. All I can say is that it was honest. Hopefully that's good enough.
So, I'm not amazing. I'm barely getting by. Right now, I am happy with "good enough".
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "no parades and parties here. Just another regular day."
Monday, February 25, 2013
I believe
I think I have talked before about my obsession with Netflix. Love it. Watch it all the time.
I get involved with certain shows and will watch and watch. I have gone through Freaks and Geeks, Undeclared, Special Victims Unit, Everybody Loves Raymond and have sampled even more. My latest interest in is Destination Truth.
It's a show about different myths/paranormal legends being investigated. The main guy, Josh Gates, is cute and funny. The investigations are interesting and completely up my alley.
They have captured on film some strange things. Although they always go in completely skeptical, there have been times when when they have not been able to explain what is going on.
Seriously. I am watching the show right now. A creepy doll just opened it's eye, on an island of haunted dolls. I am freaking out. Horrible.
Anyway..not so much about the hauntings but the creatures. That's why I wanted to do this blog. This show gives me hope.
I think I have talked about before the fact that I love to believe in things. Fairies, elves, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster. I want to believe that they are real, as real as you or I. I am a believer. I don't tell a lot of people that. Not that I am hiding it, but it's really not something that comes up in every day conversation.
"Hey, how you doin'?"
"Great! You?"
"Pretty good. Did you know that I believe in Bigfoot?"
Yeah, really doesn't come up much.
And when people do find out, lots of them look at me like I am an idiot. Seriously, I think people assume I am all of a sudden stupider.
A small tangent here. In my experience (remember- MY experience- this isn't true of everyone) non-believers in...anything...tend to be overly rigid, sanctimonious assholes. Not always, but sometimes. And I don't mean just ghost non-believers. People that don't believe in ghosts or God or whatever- they seem to judge much more harshly than those that do. I guess you just have to have a bit more of an open mind to be a believer, so maybe you are just more open to others, as well as experiences. They will ask you to prove to them that God or ghosts or fairies exist, that they won't believe without concrete evidence. Meanwhile, they can't definitively prove that they don't.
And thus, my segue into my faith being restored by a TV show. On this show, they travel the world looking for myths and legends and monsters. In one, when in South America, they are talking about the Amazon. A scientist is talking about how the Amazon is the size of the continental Unites States (including Alaska) and only 1-2% of it has been extensively explored and cataloged. The scientist stated, when asked if it was possible for there to be creatures out there that haven't been discovered yet, that it would be the height of irresponsibility on the part of science to assume that we, as humans, have seen and found all that there is to find. I concur. Wholeheartedly.
In another episode, when searching in Vietnam, they spoke with a woman scientist that was there researching tigers. She had been there for almost 20 years, living in the bush, working and learning. In 20 years, she had only viewed tigers (the main reason she was there, remember!!) only 4 times in the wild. 4 times!!!! A larger creature, the Asian Elephant, she had seen twice.
So, for all of you that say "if Bigfoot exists, we would be seeing it all the time (remember, there are 100s of sightings every year- you naysayers just ignore them as kooks), that you would be finding bodies (they don't find the bodies of bears in the woods, that have died of natural causes. Most carcasses left are killed by humans and even then, would be picked clean by scavengers in a matter of hours, or days at most)- Eff you. Totally.
I am a believer. Nothing you can say will ever change my mind. You can think I am stupid, or silly, or crazy. I think the belief makes my life richer and deeper and full of more mystery and happiness and magic, than those of you that think you know everything. I feel a little sorry for you.
Yep, I'm a jerk that way. :)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "non-believers, get out of the way!"
I get involved with certain shows and will watch and watch. I have gone through Freaks and Geeks, Undeclared, Special Victims Unit, Everybody Loves Raymond and have sampled even more. My latest interest in is Destination Truth.
It's a show about different myths/paranormal legends being investigated. The main guy, Josh Gates, is cute and funny. The investigations are interesting and completely up my alley.
They have captured on film some strange things. Although they always go in completely skeptical, there have been times when when they have not been able to explain what is going on.
 |
| Orbs in a haunted fort in Key West |
Seriously. I am watching the show right now. A creepy doll just opened it's eye, on an island of haunted dolls. I am freaking out. Horrible.
Anyway..not so much about the hauntings but the creatures. That's why I wanted to do this blog. This show gives me hope.
I think I have talked about before the fact that I love to believe in things. Fairies, elves, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster. I want to believe that they are real, as real as you or I. I am a believer. I don't tell a lot of people that. Not that I am hiding it, but it's really not something that comes up in every day conversation.
"Hey, how you doin'?"
"Great! You?"
"Pretty good. Did you know that I believe in Bigfoot?"
Yeah, really doesn't come up much.
And when people do find out, lots of them look at me like I am an idiot. Seriously, I think people assume I am all of a sudden stupider.
 | |||
| me and Dawn ghost hunting with the EMF | More orbs |
And thus, my segue into my faith being restored by a TV show. On this show, they travel the world looking for myths and legends and monsters. In one, when in South America, they are talking about the Amazon. A scientist is talking about how the Amazon is the size of the continental Unites States (including Alaska) and only 1-2% of it has been extensively explored and cataloged. The scientist stated, when asked if it was possible for there to be creatures out there that haven't been discovered yet, that it would be the height of irresponsibility on the part of science to assume that we, as humans, have seen and found all that there is to find. I concur. Wholeheartedly.
 |
| Dawn and I, so excited about getting EMF |
So, for all of you that say "if Bigfoot exists, we would be seeing it all the time (remember, there are 100s of sightings every year- you naysayers just ignore them as kooks), that you would be finding bodies (they don't find the bodies of bears in the woods, that have died of natural causes. Most carcasses left are killed by humans and even then, would be picked clean by scavengers in a matter of hours, or days at most)- Eff you. Totally.
I am a believer. Nothing you can say will ever change my mind. You can think I am stupid, or silly, or crazy. I think the belief makes my life richer and deeper and full of more mystery and happiness and magic, than those of you that think you know everything. I feel a little sorry for you.
Yep, I'm a jerk that way. :)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "non-believers, get out of the way!"
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Wrecked
I have loved Bruce Springsteen since I was a kid. One of the very first albums I ever owned, along side Karma Chameleon by Culture Club and Purple Rain by Prince, was Born in the USA. I would play that album constantly on my parent's giant floor model record player, dancing in the basement.
I have trouble deciding on my favourite song of his. There are so many. I love different ones at different times. Of course the popular ones are great- they are popular for a reason- Born to Run, Glory Days, Thunder Road...all amazing. The older stuff is great- the Born to Run album and Darkness on the Edge of Town have some amazing tracks. The River, Badlands, Jungleland, 10th Avenue Freezeout, Rosalita (which I dance to with my Rosie. I tell her it is her song.) And they tell amazing stories.
And I think that's what I love about Bruce and his songwriting. His songs are stories. He is blue collar, and intelligent and wordy and dark. His songs are almost impossible to sing along with, because of the words and the phrases and texture of them. I remember reading an interview with Stephen King, from back in the late 80's. He had been asked who he would like to see play the different parts in The Stand, if it were ever to be made into a movie (and of course it was). He said that had always envisioned Bruce Springsteen playing Stu, that even though he is from New Jersey, he has that classic everyman, southern, good old boy quality that would represent the true nature he had tried to write into Stu. I was upset when Gary Sinise was the one that eventually did. :(So, anyway...I digress. Summer of Bruce. Back on track.
Last year, Bruce released a new album- Wrecking Ball. Dawn and I got the album early, so that we would be at least a bit familiar with the songs by the time we saw the first show in April. We loved it.The tone of a lot of the songs is very much like his old stuff. Both of us were instantly drawn to some of the songs- Jack of all trades, Death to our Hometown, We are alive- all of them have the ability to send a chill up my spine and had me dancing and screaming and singing and yes, even crying in my seat at every single show. But the biggest and the baddest of the songs was the title track, Wrecking Ball.
If you have never been to a Bruce Springsteen show, you need to go. I can't explain it to you fully. It is 3 1/2 to 4 hours of Bruce and the band. No opener. No pyro. Sometimes he turns the house lights up and just lets you scream your guts out along with him. He could bring the crowd up to heights of hysteria, and glory, that would have you dancing in the aisle, high-fiving strangers and jumping with all your might. He can bring the crowd back down, so that you dance and sway with 20,000 other like minded fools, eyes closed, heart broken. And when it's you in the middle of this, worshipping at the house of Bruce (sorry for the blasphemy, but it well and truly feels like a religious experience. At least to me, it did), when you give yourself over to it, it is as freeing an experience as I have ever had. It may not be this way for everyone (in fact, I am quite sure that it isn't, that it is just me) but for me, I will go back again and again. As long as I am able.
For Dawn, it was poignantly emotional. With her dad's passing, Bruce and his songs have become a personal connection to Kit. I feel it to, but obviously not as deeply. It was rare for her not to be emotional when certain songs came on. It was a difficult journey for her, but one worth travelling. We went different reasons, but we always went together.
Since Dawn and I had this amazing exerperience together 3 times over the year, we decided we needed to commemorate it. And how do we honour something like this? Why, we do it permanently in ink in our skin. That's how. :) Yeah us.Dawn and I puzzled and puzzed until our puzzlers were sore. How best to do this? Early on, we agreed that we wanted to have his signature and lyrics. It was then on to the task of picking which lyrics. I originally had suggested a favourite of mine from Thunder Road..
"Have a little faith,
There's magic in the night."
While we both loved it, since he didn't play Thunder Road at any of our shows, it was hard to memoralize the Summer of Bruce with a song that we never actually heard live.
The choice, really, had been made for us. It had to be Wrecking Ball. We knew the part of the song- the part that had you singing at the top of your lungs, dancing with your eyes closed, believing, believing, believing with every ounce of your heart and soul.
And hard times come
And hard times go
Yeah, just to come again
Bring on your wrecking ball
What does it mean? To me, it does nothing more or less than summarize my life. My hard times come and go, over and over and over. But guess what? I got this. I can do this. Bring on your fucking wrecking ball. Do your worst. :) Hells yeah.
I picked an amazing font, that pays homage to the Darkness at the Edge of Town album cover.
We did it today. Like the rest of the summer of Bruce, we did it together. It was great, and it's beautiful. I will post a picture as soon as I am able. It's on my back and I can't take one myself.
Thanks, Dawn. Any time, any where. The next Bruce show- I'm there, right there with ya.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for new tattoo.
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