Today was an odd, ephemeral and lovely day for the most part, consisting of an enjoyable afternoon out first on the bike, then to lunch and grocery shopping with my parents and my children. I can usually only hope to steal my mother away for daily errands in between the events in her busy schedule (said "busyness" sometimes consisting of just being around the house for my dad - it's very sweet, they like hanging out with each other and almost no one else). And of the four members of my FOO I'm the only one who likes going out to eat (not strictly true: my brother likes eating out but is so tight-fisted with cash he simultaneously judges others or feels guilty himself upon indulging), so it's rare I have enthusiastic partners in this endeavor.

I may sound like I'm poking fun of my family but the truth is I enjoy spending time with them near as much as my own wee foursome. One of the chief good trappings of this day was that my father came along with us. He has been feeling better, despite new tumor growths in his lungs and bones. His good spirits seem largely due to the fact he's had more than two months off chemo (his choice). It's sad to see him off chemo because chemo keeps him alive (albeit tortured and sick). It's almost, in its way, even sadder to see his hair thicken and his skintone liven and his skinny 6' 3" frame gain a few pounds. He starts to look startlingly good. I look at him and think to myself, imagine how healthy and hale he would be now without cancer treatment these last eight years. This is almost the worst kind of thought to think because it takes me back to What Could Have Been, a place I for the most part abandoned and don't often glance at.

I feel oddly exhausted to recount a strange episode from this morning that almost ruined my day: we were visited by a gentleman from DSHS on an issue of child welfare - in fact my child, Nels. On Saturday afternoon my son had ventured out (in the nintey-plus degree heat making him restless, I suppose) two blocks afield and was asking neighbors for food and drink. A neighbor brought him back straight away (after feeding him bottled water and Pop Tart) and spoke to Ralph, who apologized for the trouble and thanked the neighbor for bringing our son home. My husband was pissed - cranky from the heat, angry at Nels for wandering off, irritated at me for - I'm not sure what. Because I know Nels and know there's little we can do except to talk to him about what he shouldn't do and why. But anyone suggesting we "make" him forgo venturing off on his own on some too-grown, precocious endeavor (harmless or otherwise)? Bitch, you don't know my son!

So imagine my mild surprise, then shock, then bemusement, offense, and small dark cloud of rage forming between my eyes when a stranger showed up and wanted to look at the state of my housekeeping, the food in my fridge, and the nurturing conditions and mental stimulus afforded my children (all of which were running smoothly, of course). Here's the weird thing: of course I support these programs and am glad to see what I saw operating in Grays Harbor County this morning. And in theory I tell myself I wouldn't judge nor place myself above the parent who would benefit from these services. But I found out today it's another thing entirely to have them at my own doorstep.

The gentleman interrupted the kids and I as we were studying world atlases and preparing dough for chocolate croissants (the food tying into the geography lessons: croissants from France, as pointed out on the map, and chocolate from - usually - South America). The social worker - who was completely professional, matter-of-fact, and friendly, none of which made the incident less unpleasant - told me the call was from someone (maybe the neighbors who'd returned Nels, maybe not - who knows?) who had reported this was a "drug-addled" neighborhood (WTF?). The sole purpose of his visit seemed to be - besides "checking us out", which had included a call to law enforcement - informing us of services we could take advantage of. In fact at no point did I hear an admonishment or feel chastised in any way; rather, I'd seen a window into institutional procedure based around helping people help themselves. This was an odd relief and in accordance with what I would want from social work at large. Still, I couldn't help wonder: what if my fridge had been empty? What if my house was a pit, or I had a sick kid, or what if Nels runs off again?

Before the social worker left I sat my son on my lap and explained briefly that it's a lot of trouble (for me), drama (for me), and paperwork (for Mr. DSHS) brought down on us for a four-year old to venture off like that, even once. I don't think we made it too heavy-handed.

I know Nels couldn't have known that for me the incident sparked this terrifying, irrational, yet nevertheless thoroughly soul-sickening feeling of the loss of one's child, a fear that lives in the bottom third of my heart no matter waking or sleeping and pumps a noxious cold blood-substitute whenever circumstances hint toward anything of the kind.

Labels: FOO, Mama's crazy, neighbors, Nels, nerves, random, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

No, I'm not much better physically, but the codeine helps at night. Everything else is going well. This weekend was spent on the beach, in the yard, working on the garden, making sweet love, watching family movies, baking bread and yes, even sewing! (a polka-dot shirt from vintage fabric for yours truly).

Ralph put a webcam up on our garden:



Now available to view in real-time: Nels watering garden, cats lying under the broccoli.

Labels: garden, illness, sewing, weekend

Last night at 4 AM found me huddled in two blankets on the cot of a very cold exam room, awaiting a consultation regarding a chest x-ray. I have been enduring what feels and describes itself as bronchitis for about two weeks. During the day I'm mostly fine, with a cough and fatigue setting in (I hate fatigue because at heart I am a busy little beaver!) but the nights have just been worse and worse. Imagine coughing, coughing, coughing and feeling like your lungs were filling every time you lay down. It's kind of cute one night but it's wreaked havoc on me lately.

Well, I came away from the whole hospital trip with a diagnosis I've never heard of, a couple drugs I was confused about, and some heavy-duty cough syrup - at least I knew what to do with that. And I don't have pneumonia, which was starting to be my worry. Lungs look good. I'm still tired from a few consecutive nights of poor sleep. I have a dread of tonight and the rest I may or may not get - lying in bed with everyone asleep, me awake and alone. I swear that's what sucks most of all.

Labels: illness, the bod

We made it to the carnival tonight.

At first I was nervous Nels wouldn't really enjoy the rides. What do I worry for? He was just as relaxed and smiling as he is about 99.8% of the time. Going down the Fun House spiral slide for the second time, he goofed around, miscalculated, and tumbled over on his head. Ralph and I practically raced to pick him up and administer comfort. Our children are getting older, more independent, less clingy. They don't breastfeed or cry out for us to hold them near as often as they used to.

I already feel a small hole working its way outward in my chest: the vacancy of the loss of being so essentially needed so much of the day.

Labels: friends, Nels, Ralph, Sophie

I've been sick (bronchitis), but that's no excuse for not writing. Today is Sophie's last day of school - sort of. It's more like a half day composed of field games. If I was feeling better I'd be there, enjoying the bittersweetness of the event and working one of the activities. Yesterday minorly prophetically I said my goodbyes and brought flowers to my daughter's teachers on their last real full day of school. I didn't say goodbye to the children because they were all trickling out to recess. I've been now and then crying small batches of sweet, sad tears about it - how much I'd miss time in that classroom. It was convenient being ill I didn't have to face up to it yet one more time on the today.

Yesterday evening after dropping off some donations for the preschool garage sale Ralph told us the carnival was at the mall. You know - one of those traveling events with ridiculously priced poisonous food, all sorts of fun rides put together by junkies, and a ticket system that works out to an average of $4 each ride. I had misgivings about just "driving by" the carnival without having the children expressly informed in sober, repetitive detail that tomorrow we'd be going to the carnival: tonight was merely a look-see. However instead of voicing my concerns to my husband I brushed them aside and instead indulged myself in attempting to discuss my day's ideas and feelings with my adult male partner - something I crave and get so little of when our children are in tow.

I pull around the carnival lot and yes, it is mighty and huge. The kids grow excited. We tell them we're "just checking it out". They ask if we can participate tonight, now. We say no, Daddy didn't bring his wallet, and anyway we're going tomorrow. Their anxiety becomes palpable, their pleas increasingly frantic. I try the firm but casually friendly "no". It doesn't go over as friendly or casual. They have wound themselves up: I couldn't have predicted the intensity of their reaction. They throw their heads back and howl. Instantly their faces are streaked, sunburned, disbelieving, tortured. I can hear the tears flying in huge arcs out of their squeezed-shut eyes and raining on the car upholstery.

Ralph and I are laughing in front - hiding our laughter, because we don't want to be cruel. It's just - you can't imagine how much fuss they are making! And for the two of them to both set up wails of protest makes the noise and drama of the event truly impressive (usually it's one or the other: Nels more unflappable, Sophie much more likely to set up a "fussdown" as she calls it). It turns out - as Ralph tells me later - the drive-by was just about the worse idea we've had (he had, I was merely an accessory). Of course I know the kids are going to be fine but I simultaneously am remembering how horrid these sorts of feelings were as a child. Powerless, the glittering brass ring vanishing before my eyes, the adults able to grant me my one desperate wish refusing out of sadism or caprice. Unfair, tragic, horrible.

On the drive home Sophie spits out dire statements ("I'll never get to go to a carnival again! It will never be OK!") while Nels alternates between firm and emphatic commands ("Mom, Dad - take us to the carnival now, please!") to declarations of punitive action ("OK - no treats for Mama or Daddy - no maclairs for you!"*) and then back again. I feel clumsy, bad as a parent. Best to let those moments just slip through as quickly as possible.

At 11:45 this morning my children and husband return from the school event; Nels sporting rather unusual glittery pink and striped makeup. "I'm a princess and a tiger," he tells me.

* By "maclairs" being my son's pronunciation for our favorite breakfast pastries, eclairs.

Ralph and the kids return from

Labels: Nels, school, Sophie, sorrows

marriedtothesea.com
I don't mean this one exactly, I just mean the work in its entirety.

Labels: hilarity, random potty-mouth

This morning a girlfriend told me it wasn't until just now that the weather here started getting to her. "Last night I was listening to the storm and thinking, 'I shouldn't be hearing this!'"

I feel the same. I'm ready for sun or at least - I'd settle for warmth with an absence of rain. First of all, the fact I bike most everywheres means that rain really sucks. I don't have to just rainproof myself but my children and my groceries and my paperwork or whatever else I'm transporting. And then I have to go inside buildings soaking wet in vain hopes to hang eight layers of clothing up to dry before I go again.

Let's put it this way: If I was to look at the weather, I'd give it this face:

Labels: i'm a hater, weather

Today we didn't do much outside the house, at first. I caught up on many emails. At 2 PM we went to the official opening of the HQX Community Garden:


I love taking my kids to the garden site. Did you know that the very existence of train tracks means kids can entertain themselves - for hours at a time?


My mom has been painting garden plot signs for anyone who asks. She does something custom according to what the "customer" wants and what she feels like doing. It adds a lot to the congenial atmosphere of the place.

We had coffee and cookies and people fussed over my bike. It is re-invigorating shopper's lust within me to trick it out further (DLG and Wide-Loaders, anyone?). Yes Laura, I realize I need to get pictures of the damn bike. And my car, come to think of it.

Afterwards I biked to the Silver Pony, an antique store in Hoquiam, with the intention of doing an interview and feature in my next zine. This is a really great shop, and I browse there often and buy there every now and then.

Labels: garden, HQX, SNF

Last spring - I know this may sound foolish even as I write it - I was involved in an online quarrel with an acquaintance I'd met through a social networking group and met twice in person. The spat resulted from a miscommunication and this individual - who as it turned out, was a deeply troubled woman or at least going through a very difficult time - had decided I was a cruel, incredibly rude "Alpha mom" who'd deliberately snubbed her. I watched in horror as she trashed my name and character in a venomous assault to what felt like the whole world - which really was only a group of people online, some of which knew me personally and most who knew me through my screen name (which as always is my real name). I knew this person was far too angry to listen to reason or even stop dragging my name through the mud to talk to me personally (which I tried) so I more or less felt forced to accept the abuse (or stop reading it, which I did).

That afternoon I'd had to take my daughter to get a couple vaccinations for her entry to kindergarten in the fall. I was so distressed over what was going on in the internet-ether that I remember I was not able to focus on my children. To the outside world I know I looked calm and that I tracked what was happening but inside I was sickeningly split in two - a part of my mind dedicated to the automatic functioning of caring, capable mother - and the much larger part of my mind writhing in an overwhelming noise of being hurt so unfairly.

My thin-skinned nature is a fairly recent (a couple years' worth) demotion of my character and deserves to be the subject of another entry. But that moment sitting on the doctor's bench with my child in my lap I knew something was dreadfully wrong if I could let a near-stranger disrupt my peace so entirely - take me away from where I wanted to be, which was with my kids.

I left the online group about a month later. I'd loved the group and had participated enthusiastically but there was too much of this sort of thing going on amongst the members. I also decided I had to be stronger than how I'd been until now, for my children at the very least, but yes for myself as well.

Did my children notice I wasn't there that afternoon? I'm sure they did not. Would in growing older they begin to perceive a mother who was so permeable, who suffered so readily when anyone hurt her, that she would leave her own mind in order to gnaw away on her pain? Absolutely they would.

In my recent family crisis I got to show my quality. I had improved. I have invested in my own strength and my hope is my children will invest in theirs.

Labels: gratitude, sorrows

My husband returned home this afternoon and has decided to stay. He tells me he won't leave again. It would mean the most to me out of anything, ever, if he doesn't ever go again.

I rarely use this journal to address people directly, but the most sincere gratitude is in order to every single person who emailed or called or IM'd or even those who read (or will read) and said, "Yikes!" and felt the slightest bit of sympathy, worry, or empathy. Even an email that says something along the lines of, "I don't know what to say, but I read what you wrote" is more appreciated than the email's author might realize. I owe God and the universe the most sincere thank you for all of you; and trust that I am delivering these thanks over the next few days.

For the few individuals who were upset reading the nitty gritty of my last day or so, I can only say I'm sorry for this. I would hate for my journal here to be the source of suffering or upset but the fact is, I know it was for some. I hope you realize by sharing I am trying to honor my readers with my life, warts and all, as much as I can do so with integrity towards myself and my family.

The children and I had a butterfly date with friends. Photos to follow; hopefully. The weather cleared and even warmed a bit. My friend Jasmine bought me the most fun little succulent plant; she bought herself an even more awesome one which needs a name. I also got some sort of purple-leaved beauty for indoor / outdoor life with us. $2.70 for a little slice of living, breathing beauty.

Labels: friends

I fell asleep with difficulty a little before 1 AM. This morning just after 4 my son, in bed next to me, wakes up from a nightmare: "Mama, don't leave!" He cries and I hold him and tell him I'm here. "I had a dream about that, that happened" he sobs, but soon settles in my arms and is back to sleep.

When Sophie was just walking - about ten months old, she was an early walker - I used to cut grapes in half for her like any other parent does but this morning I was remembering I used to also cut raisins in half. I can see her balancing over to our coffee table to eat them, giving her goofy baby smile with the four new teeth that made it extra important to carefully manage the food she might put in her mouth. My world in those moments revolved around getting the exact perfect thing to her, a tender ritual but one also infused with the deepest sense of responsibility - a constant sense of responsibility. I would give anything for my children and I have given so much, and it is given freely. Yet right now I can't give them what they want and need which is their father and more importantly, the knowledge that their father won't leave them. It's not that I think he will; it's that I'm so rattled it's hard to draw a bead on being a good mom and saying the right things. All I can do is not allow myself to fall apart, for at least another few minutes or however long I can manage.

I want to say it would be personally abhorrent for me to write here in criticism of my husband. I am not putting him down or taking a shot at him in any way but trying to convey how absolutely dreadful this is for me, right now. I am trying to be truthful about what is happening in my life - as I've always tried to be truthful in this journal.

Once I'm up just after 4 it seems my body has recovered enough that my mind starts working again. This means that for now at least sleep is impossible to recover. Ralph once told me that if you're up with insomnia, it's no use trying to fall asleep if you can't - best to get up to work for a bit and try to settle later. So I do. I get up and do a load of laundry, wash more dishes, and get bread started for the day. At 5 my daughter wakes up to go to the bathroom. She cuddles with me a bit and asks to come to bed. "I want Daddy," she says. She tucks herself in bed with her head next to me, about eighteen inches away on the computer. And she's out again.

Today we are looking forward to going out to a nursery to release butterflies. It's a really silly event - only a fleeting moment, I imagine, in the moments while the butterfly stretches it's wings and before it takes off to do its business. Outside the dawn sky reveals the typical grey wet-sheet rumpled look but I see a glimmer of sunshine underneath, meaning we may not end up huddling under awnings and trees for our outing today.

Labels: family life

Well, according to Ralph a few minutes ago he's left me. He packed a bunch of stuff in our van and left. He said he was going to get rental storage and that it "wasn't working out." I'll bet you, dear reader, are surprised / impressed / disgusted I would write this! Did this come out of nowhere for us? Well, yes and no. He's threatened / told me before that it wasn't working out for him. I thought we were doing a lot better. I still love him very much. P.S. by writing this you can all know that I'm a failure, or you can decide it at least, and no offense but you know nothing about the two of us and aren't going to get a bunch of dishy details now or ever.

I told him I didn't want him to go, that I wanted him to come back to the home and that I wanted us to meet with our counselor as soon as we could. I don't believe we have to split. I don't want to.

Regardless to say well - no one reading this can understand how I feel right now. It's the smallest comfort ever but I'd feel slightly better right now knowing that out in the universe people at least understand I'm suffering, even if there's no way I'd really divulge much more detail, even if there's no way whatsoever they could help. I am feeling so absolutely bottom of the barrel I could really just use being "witnessed" - it would help a lot.

Labels: sorrows

Nels slept in today and woke up under a blanket in between my parents on the living room couch while we enjoyed a morning coffee date. My son's temperament was sweet made all the more hapless since he has his last day of preschool today and was sporting a black eye, cutting a rather pathetic figure.

Chores today: cleaning rat cage, dishes, making beds, cleaning bathroom, starting two loaves of sourdough for tomorrow's Stone Soup cooking at Suse's kindergarten. At lunchtime on a whim I felt hungry for sushi. Easily accomplished: I made up the rice and while it was cooling blanched carrot matchsticks, cut cucumber, battered and lightly fried tofu, and toasted and crushed macadamian nuts. Of course this all makes several rolls so I assembled a bento each for my friend Shannon and my mother.

At 3 PM while Nels was at school I picked Sophie up early so we could go to a Smithsonian traveling exhibit hosted at our own Polson Museum. The volunteer was thrilled to see museum attendance double - well, more than double as when we entered the museum went from 0 visitors to 2. It was a great exhibit and a lot of fun to attend with my daughter. She listened politely to the volunteer, asked questions, read the exhibits, and seemed to enjoy most of all racing around the model train set.

Labels: food, friends, geekery, Sophie

If you were going to go out, say, for a long night out where you go to dinner, and a movie, and get to listen to music in the car and have an uninterrupted conversation or two with a friend, I suppose there are worse things you could come home to than your son's huge, giant, enormously swollen black eye obtained from roughhousing with his father - this injury inflicted on the exact eye that had just barely recovered from a rather nasty stye. I mean really, it could be a lot worse.

In other news today I picked up seed potatoes (Russian Banana fingerlings!) and two thai pepper plants while Nels lost a pair of shoes - all at the iconic and fabulous Satsop Nursery, which looks like rundown scary buildings and then you go inside and it's a lovely jungle of beautifully-maintained plants.

Tonight with friend Amy on our date I ordered Irish Coffee and Bangers & Mash at the Galway Bay pub in Ocean Shores. And I really did not regret that decision in the slightest. Yes, that's right, sausages actually covered in gravy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Labels: film, food, friends, Nels, Ralph

Today I had one of those delightful days - a full schedule, just a skosh shy of being too full. Nels and I were off at 9:55 this morning - hauling two rakes, a hoe, a shovel, three small digging tools and two watering cans on the bike - for our end-of-year picnic and inaugural garden installation for Nels' preschool. From there we journied to my favorite diner where it was packed and I ended up doing dishes for about an hour and a half. Then to Sophie's school for my Monday slot of classroom helper. Nels attended and worked all these events; I forget sometimes how well-behaved my children can be. (Relatively; at my last shift at Sophie's school Nels urinated on the playground in full view of say, five thousand people).

Tomorrow: babysitting in the morning, movie night with the girls in the evening, a secret shipment of strawberries, cream, and pound cake to Sophie's teachers and who knows - maybe even a minute or two sewing!

Labels: bike, garden, HQX, school, X

Today while Ralph and I were making up labels on a little home-brewed project of mine (see below) I spied our kitty Harris outside with a bird in his mouth. This is the second one in three days. The bird from Friday was quite dead, and perhaps not even by his hand (or paw, such as it is). This one was still alive. Ralph ran outside and retrieved the cat and went inside the house to look for the phone number of a rehabilitation group. I picked up the bird. The children ran outside and crowded around me. Our neighbor's daughter called over the fence, asking for updates which my kids gave. I couldn't hear them because I was rather distressed.

The bird went through agonies in my hand, arching back it's head and opening it's beak as if gasping. It's gasps began to have sound. Then it died in my palm. I laid it down and it changed very profoundly from something fighting to live into something dead. Something left it's body so obviously as if it was an entirely different thing altogether. I cried. I don't care if you think that's silly. You weren't there.

Sophie cried a little out of shock and then went inside to tell Ralph. She came back outside and the children took turns holding the bird and talking about what happened. They weren't upset. Ralph dug a hole in the yard and we placed the bird, a few worms, and a flower inside the hole.

Life went on. For us.


My mother asked me to make something nice up for a few friends.

Labels: death, Harris, Nels, Sophie