I had this dream....

Childhood memories swirl around me, birthday parties, summer camping
Family holidays spent with good hearts, we weren't rich, but we weren't lacking
No one was left wanting, or so it seemed to me
But sometimes wounds hide too deep for anyone to see

Detail isn't important, truth be told, I didn't want to remember,
I spent minutes, days, and years perfecting my recipe to forget
Cold with fear, denial, disbelief and without hope
I realized that as a human, I could not cope
I could pretend, though, and as long as I did, maybe no one would get hurt
And they would never know, couldn't ever know
That they were touching dirt

I made so many choices knowing before I chose that I'd choose wrong
But I didn't care, I couldn't care, It was too damn hard to stand up strong
But those things came back to haunt me, and against a wall, I embraced the pain
I turned myself around, and swore I'd never go back again

Now detail isn't important, truth be told, I really can't remember
I spend minutes, days, and years willing myself to never forget
Warmed with courage, acceptance and belief, I found some hope,
I realize I am human, and I'm working very hard to cope,
I can't pretend, though, because as long as I do it's only me whose getting hurt
And I always know, can't ever not know,
That the world outside avoids me, afraid that they might touch the dirt

I find myself wondering as I take life minute by minute, day by day
Will this taint, the feeling of uncleanliness ever really go away?
I see the looks on faces and I feel those whispered words
People think they're talking quietly, but I assure you that I heard

You say the details aren't important, truth be told, you always remember
You've spent minutes, days and years making sure no one forgets
Is it your fears, denial and disbelief that try to steal my meager hope?
Please remember I am human, and still struggling to cope
I'm not asking you to pretend, though, because it was you that I hurt
Because of all I know, and all you know,
I will just ask for some forgiveness, help me wash away the dirt

It's a rare person who really sees me, underneath my dirt and grime
Who treats me like I have value, and that I'm worth their time
It's a beautiful, heady feeling to be met with no expectations
I'm grateful I can share some time without any explanations

She says details aren't important , truth be told she doesn't mind
She's spent minutes, days and years looking for what she could not find
She has enough courage, acceptance and belief to help maintain my hope
She knows that I am human, and I have the tools to cope
There is no more pretending, but there's always the risk for hurt
But I will know, and she will know
I am worth more than the dirt

This blog post is mainly for me, since I am the only one who comes here, anyhow. I wrote this poem after waking up from a dream I was having. I wish I could remember the melody that was supposed to go with it, but I don't. I don't have enough of a musical gift to write actual tunes, anyhow. I wrote it from a male perspective, because in my dream, it was a young man who was struggling with the issue that he was ostracized from society, and even friends and family due to the poor choices he had made. I wasn't him in the dream, I was more of an observer. He met a girl in this dream, just as I was waking up. A beautiful girl, who was not hesitant to touch him at all. On further reflection now, though, I am kind of wondering if this wasn't supposed to end differently. Maybe he died, and she was an angel? They were both in white, the whole typical, schmaltzy ending with the breeze blowing the hair and the loose white clothing. Hmm. Now I might have to write a depressing alternate ending to this. 

bring on 2015, already

I'm not completely in the Bah, Humbug mode. No one with a 3 year old should be allowed to fully enter that zone.
I am ready to be done with this year, though. More than ready.
2014 will always be the year my Dad died. And my Grandmother. Those events do overshadow everything that happened in this year.
That doesn't mean that fun wasn't had, things weren't accomplished, and we didn't enjoy our lives.
I think it means that we actually enjoyed those things more.
Eventually. And only sometimes, probably
There are times when my involvement was "phoned in", because I was just too sad, or too numb, or too unsure of how I was "supposed" to be. I don't usually care about things like that. But when you're emotionally bankrupt, you find yourself caring and wondering about the stupidest, littlest things. Because those are easier to care about than the big, ugly dark things.
The numbness is slowly fading, as I dig myself out of this year, and we approach what it the "fresh start" that we are promised with each new year. I am ready to put 2014 to bed.
I think.

Lola

When I'm on call for Hospice, I frequently need to leave the house various times to attend to our patients needs. For whatever reason, MB has identified all the people that need my help as "Lola". Every phone call, every visit has been to help Lola.
     I've been on a medical LOA for a few months, now, working on getting my RA under control. But Lola has not been forgotten. Danny frequently talks about her. I think she's evolved into his imaginary friend. But there's always something wrong with her. Today he tells me she's broken her arm,  and has been put in an ambulance, to go to the "hopsidal". He even called her "Lola, Lola! Where are you?"). He spoke to her on his imaginary phone, told her to get well soon, then ran off to find his Lamborghini.
Poor, poor Lola.
I hope someday MB reports to me that you're all better....

musical evolution

Music has always been a major aspect of my life. I think we all know that, I've done so many posts about it...
I know I am getting to old cranky person status, because for at least 10 years, I've pretty much hated the majority of what is considered the latest music "top 40" stuff. (do they even still do that? Don't even get me started on the whole Casey Kasem fiasco, poor man, I hope he's resting in peace, wherever he is).
Anyhow. Music. VERY FEW of the recent contributions get any attention from me. MM feels the same way. Lord help us when MB starts choosing for himself....
     Instead of the latest stuff, we find ourselves evolving into certain types and genre's. Our latest foray has been into
wait for it
Blues guitar.
     Blame Eric Clapton (whom, for the record, I've always liked). We've watched all the Crossroad's festival concerts, (I really have an overwhelming desire to meet Clapton and ask him why the heck Sheryl Crow was put in the lineup)  and picked out our favorites (for him, Gary Clarke Jr, for me Susan Tedeschi/Derek Trucks band) and have shopped them on iTunes. Between them, and Captain Bogg and Salty for the Boy, our car rides are interesting.
     Its funny to me, this evolution. Ive always liked the music style, but never really thought to seek out more. I think some of it is the current easy accessability to any kind of music you really want. It used to involve going to a store and having to manually purchase things to hear them. Now, I can see it, think of it, or remember it, and have it in less than 5 minutes. That hurts my brain a little, to this day. I've always had a wide variety of music, Metal, rock, classical, country, Celtic, Now, I have blues....
I do still draw the line at Rap, and Screamo. I really didn't ever appreciate Grunge, either. And techno. And Disco. (shudder).
     As far as MB goes, well. We work hard to give him a good musical foundation. He loves to sing, he's not a huge fan of dancing, and will play with any musical instrument he can get his hands on. I hope he evolves into good musical taste. If he doesn't, well, they make really good earphones, now...

what to do, what to do

I realize my blog is barely limping along, and I am probably the only one reading at this point, but so much of the good of the last 8 years of my life is located here, so I am not going to just throw that away. Maybe someday I will print it, put it in a 3 ring binder, and move on. Until then, its just going to take up its sliver of space in the interwebs.
my what to do conundrum comes from finding myself with actual TIME.
MB is three years old, and, much to my delight, (and MM's, too), very bright and curious. Because we have no other kids, (nor will we, besides MG, who does not reside with us), we are at the point where MB needs, and deserves, to be spending time around his own age group, learning, playing, and growing. So, he now goes to a preschool, all day, 2 days a week. Today being the first day. He has been going to this preschool, but just a few afternoons, before I went to work. So, he's not unfamiliar with the kids, teachers, or concept. Its just now an all day event.
The irony of this, is that I am now home, full time. My RA has just got me so spun right now. The stress of every thing just did me in. The meds aren't working as well as we'd hoped, and my rheumatologist made the decision that I will be off any kind of work for AT LEAST four months,  but in all probability, permanently. So here I am, free as a bird..a handicapped bird, but none the less. For 2 full days a week, I am off on my own. Which, hasn't happened since I was pregnant. (and technically, he was even with me then...). I had no trouble filling my time before MB. And as I look around our house, I see, easily, a million things I COULD do. probably SHOULD do. And WILL do, just in my own time. I also have a responsibility to myself to rediscover what down time really feels like again. To go out on a walk with my camera, or fall asleep in the hammock. Or go somewhere that isn't my chair, and read a book. I know to do these things, but my brain. I've kind of forgotten HOW to do them. But, I am sure I will figure it out.. its like riding a bike, right?

Lightbulb

Having a toddler is crazy. Pure craziness. Every day is a different day, and despite what all these parenting experts recommend, the day IS run by the child. Not that MB is making big decisions, but if he's cranky, or tired or argumentative, it sure does alter my plans. I'd rather not be running errands with a cranky kid, thanks.
     The last few weeks, though, have really blown my mind. He is learning so fast that I can't keep up, practically. He's truly a sponge. Speaking in understandable sentences, telling us what he wants, expressing emotions (sad, mad), jumping off things, picking on the dog. Suddenly, he's a kid. Not a baby, moving out of the "toddler" age, into full blown, energetic, regular kid. It's really amazing to watch. It's like his little inner light bulb came on, and each day it gets brighter and brighter.
     By evening he is exhausted from all he's taking in. He gets irritable and bratty, then, thankfully, goes to sleep. The next day, we do it all again, and he learns even more. And lets not even talk about how fast he's outgrown his pants.

The other side

So, now I'm on the other side. My Dad, my longtime hero, died peacefully and comfortably on March 31.
     My days have kind of passed in a blur. MB and I spent the last few weeks staying with my Mom, being noise in the house for her. Distracting her when we could, supporting her when we couldn't, and just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find our balance after losing an important level of our foundation.
     I'm home, now, re establishing a comfortable life pattern for MB, doing the things I know I should be doing. Finding laughter and enjoyment in life. But Dad is never far from my mind or my heart.
He would not expect, nor want anyone to wallow in grief. To stagnate. He'd kick our butts for even thinking that was an option. I do my best to focus on what he would consider the most important; my young son. And my family, but, really? Especially my son. My Dad was a champion of children, and providing comfort, love and stability for them. Without sounding like a corny song, they are the future.
     Onward, then, I go. I cry when I need to, laugh when I can, and love, always. I'm off work for another few weeks, and I need that time to get myself  more steady, to find yet another, new normal.

New meaning to the word agony

My Dad is dying. It's his time, he has cancer for the third time, and we lost the war. As I type, he's going through the process of leaving us. He has only hours to days left. He's pain free, and clean and comfortable, which is so important to us all. But this waiting! Knowing what's happening, and that we are powerless to stop it, and that, now, I don't want to stop it!! He needs to be completely free of his pain and frailties. Even working as a hospice nurse does not, did not give me a full understanding of how this feels. Being on this side is exhausting.  I don't like it. It's going to make me a very different nurse, I think.
     After the weekend, if he's still with us, we will bring him home, and care for him there. I will bring MB and we will live with my parents, until he's gone.
Oh, how I'll miss him.

Zzzzzzz

Oh, man, was I not prepared....
     The milestones of MB's young life have been flying by, and in a blink of my eye, he's a walking, talking, curious child. He has opinions that he very clearly expresses, and no longer relies of Mom and Dad for every little thing.
     Recently, MG flew our little nest for the frozen tundra known as Minnesota. After much wailing, and teeth gnashing, the room she left was cleaned out, painted, and carpeted. Then came the advent of the big boy bed..
Oh the joy. The excitement. The pirate madness of it all.
Except the one thing....
Sleep.
He doesn't want to sleep in the damn thing.
He wants to sleep with us.
He is up and down as much as he was when he was an infant. We dutifully get up, put him back, give kisses, and sit by him until he falls back asleep. IF he falls back to sleep.
This is, apparantly, a common problem with toddlers. I was really not aware of this. Had I known, I might have not been I. Such a hurry for a big boy bed.....
But it has to happen sometime, right?
Now if you will excuse me, I need more coffee....

In which I discover a new pet peeve

We enjoy going to eat out in restaurants. Probably too much, but there you go.
MB has been learning how to act in public, and, he's pretty dang good, for a 2.5 year old. We only go to family friendly places, he does NOT run freely, he says please and thank you. He knows what a napkin is, and uses silverware appropriately. He does talk, laugh, and, yes, occasionally squeal, whine , cry or shout. But he is a kid, I'm not expecting perfection.
What makes it 10 times harder for us to teach him good restaurant behavior, however, are the people around us that want to egg him on and play with him.
      He is adorable. I totally get that. He smiles, and flirts, he sings on occasion. I'm glad they think so. But hey! He needs to settle down, and eat!! Wave hello or whatever, but don't sit there and make faces at him, talk at him, wave, and otherwise rile him up THE ENTIRE TIME. Give it a rest! Eat your meal, too!! I'm trying to teach him to be respectful of  other people, and their space, but it's mighty hard when the other people keep demonstrating otherwise...
     I don't wanna be a grouch. But I do want to eat in relative peace....