I'm sitting at the kitchen table and I'm crying again. I think I have dried snot on my jeans from crying earlier today. My shirt is dusted with flour from helping Ralph cook dinner, my children are in the bath, my life is "perfect", and I'm so worn out because somehow life is also so very, very hard for me lately.

I did OK for part of the evening but actually, at about 3 PM part of me thought about drinking all my heavy-duty cough syrup (still got that cough - yay!) and slipping into a coma. Life was just too much suck, and the thing is, it was all my own fault. Let's be clear, the cough syrup fantasy was definitely coming from the not-really-going-to-do-it place (after all, I do need smaller doses of it on a nightly basis), but it was also a pretty deep, stagnant mire of suffering and despair. A few years ago I had a friend relate a similar episode in her life after watching the film Love Actually (P.S., blarf!), so I know if she's reading this she relates.

Instead of drinking cough syrup, I did another first. Depression eating. No, really, first time. I mean I've mis-eaten out of boredom or social anxiety (grabbing at pretzels when I'm at a party and don't yet know anyone), but never literally ate something as a deliberate and hopeless effort to make myself feel psychologically better. I found an appropriate instrument to do so: my husband's recently acquired stash of Cherry Garcia ice cream. Turns out that is one good fucking ice cream. While dishing up I got the most ludicrous phone scam call ever ("...calling from a business in nearby Ocean... Shores," the young man nervously mispronounces in a thick, unrecognizable accent), and in my trademark way I was deliberately polite and courteous throughout the call which itself is an excellent exercise. Putting down the phone and I really did feel better, freed up. By then it was four PM and I'd muscled through the housework (devastating amounts of laundry today) and my kids were somehow behaving and I sat down with the bowl of ice cream and a great re-read of a book. And I staved off existential despair at least until Ralph got home.

Labels: food, sorrows

It's almost as if I've achieved a well-orchestrated balancing act and despite my veteran status it doesn't take much to knock me off kilter. Yesterday a specialist in Seattle changed the assessment of my father's lifespan from "months to years" to "weeks to months". Hearing this today, sitting in the living room with him as he lies on the couch suffering, the worst thing is that sometimes it seems he's dead already, that the cancer or Death is larger and bigger than the moment we have. I feel double-robbed, robbed now, robbed in the future and soon.

Moments like this are the worst because they take away the most powerful truth we can live in, the moment, something we can agree on regardless of spiritual beliefs or lack thereof - something I tell myself daily and am starting to tell others:

Breathe, you are alive.

Labels: cancer, sorrows, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

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

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

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

I'd been saying easy come, easy go with my gardening efforts but I won't lie: it was a bit of a disappointment to view - on the morning before the last frost date for the area - the crispy terrain in my backyard covered with ice. My broccoli starts reproachfully eyed me with their mouths open in frozen death screams. Well who knows, maybe something will have survived.

Another rather silly thing is that I'm actually one of the charter members of the Community Garden this year, and I can't really grow a thing. I'm going to be helping the grade school kids with their own garden plot. So that's even more excellent: planting tender flower shoots, say, only to find them next week brown and sad and dead. "Hey kids, failure is a natural part of life so let's learn about it!"

I'm really hoping I get some help from a Master Gardener.

Labels: garden, sorrows, weather

Today I felt defeated by the end of the day. Really, I'd had successes and I'd had good times but somehow around 4:30 I deflated with a big, listless pfffffthbh.

Maybe it was that I'd left my bike guy with the go-ahead to drill holes and install a piece of wood to part of my new bike work. I dunno, that took the starch out of me a bit; but it had to be done.


The Bike Shop has some excellent systems for running smoothly. Here's the thing, it's so incredibly cluttered and crazy yet Terry will never lose even your tiniest set screw (although it might take him a minute to find it).


Sophie makes do in the Lariat while we wait for our keys to be re-delivered to us. It has been so very, very cold - alternating between sunny, sleet, rain and wind.

Highlights of the day:

Cleaning up my sewing room (yay!) but even more meaningful, once again moving my tomato starts to an even sunnier spot and making a hallowed little place for them (tonight my mom asked if I'd named each one). I think growing green things might keep me cheerful this spring.

Driving next to Nels and listening to our latest download (Alicia Keys' "As I Am") while he puts his arms around me and sings to me.

Getting a coupon for free bread at the Franz outlet - what a creepy yet almost wondrous place that is! Nels got a "Cookie Credit Card", an ingenious marketing ploy to inspire children to pester overworked parents to stop in for mass-produced refined grains.

Making dinner, despite being so tired I didn't want to.

Having dinner with the kids; simple fare (homemade pizza dough with layered cheese; roasted brussel sprouts, sauteed tomatoes and squash) but so nice to see their joy in eating and pouring their own beverages from their little pitcher of water.

My husband trying to take care of me. He doesn't always know how much I appreciate this.

Labels: bike, food, gratitude, Mama's crazy, Nels, Ralph, Sophie, sorrows, weather

I miss Port Townsend. I miss our old life. I like our new life. I miss our old life. That's all for now.

Labels: random, sorrows

Thanksgiving is come and gone. There was a lot of food. There were visits from family and friends. Yesterday I worked for ten hours straight and didn't even take a bathroom break. It was surreal. It was a nice day.

This morning we woke up with Nels in the bed (in between Ralph and I - how did that happen again?), and a curious kitty visiting each member of the family one by one with his snow paws until we all gradually had our eyes open and we all had our arms around one another. What's nice is we get two more mornings like this in the weekend, mornings without Ralph having to rush off to work and me having to get the kids to school.

It seems there were a few people out for walks today as the weather was brilliant and clear. Our foursome walked a little under three miles and it was such a nice time talking with the family - well, especially Ralph who's looking so especially handsome these days for some unknown reason - and viewing Skanky the Seal in the Hoquiam River. I finished Sophie's two skirts but lost energy before I could start sewing the dresses.

My parents arrived back home today after their Thanksgiving at the family's Mason Lake cabin. It was so nice to see them again tonight although being around them fills me with inner sadness I dare not show them. My father is having trouble swallowing because (we think) of the tumor growing just behind his stomach. He kept putting his hands to his face because his new medicine irritates the lining of his throat and mouth. I think it's like having one's entire mouth be a canker sore. The steroids are making him sleep poorly. He talked about waking up at 3 AM and being wide awake. I hated the thought of him being alone and wish I was in the house to sit with him. Despite all his suffering he was gentle and sweet tonight, chasing my children and hugging them. We talked about a recent ridiculous letter to the editor and laughed and laughed.

My mom was also bad off. We talked about some of the things bothering her for a while and she was, uncharacteristically, not able to feel better by the time I left. It isn't just my father and his illness, but also some of her experiences with her own father and two of her siblings this weekend. I think my mom's world is slowly crumbling in more than one way. I obviously know a lot more about her situation but there is no point to writing more about it here. These days I'm out and about I really will experience what people call "a chill around my heart". When this coldness creeps into me it stays with me for hours at a time, even if I look like a loving mother or caring wife or a happy friend - I still feel it there.

My children are a saving grace. They give me focus, direction, and ground me in reality. Life goes on and my children are evidence. They are irrepressible, at turns incredibly wise and ridiculously irreverent, made of sturdier stuff than the rest of us. Give them a nap, tell them a story, feed them, wash their hands or play a game of 20 Questions and they are as good as new, able to handle a hike or bad news or a visit to the hospital or help with chores. They give us lessons in survival and unconditional love. I'm not sure what I'd do without them. I'm glad I have them.

Labels: family life, Grazdma, holidays, illness, sorrows, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

This week we had a sort of bittersweet milestone. My dad is officially done with cpt-11, the horrific chemo that has held his metastatic cancer at bay all these years. He's done because it is losing efficacy. So our celebration is mixed; he won't be sick for a while and he will be enjoying his days more. It means the most effective medicine they had for him is no longer working.

Tonight I made him a lemon meringue pie (his favorite) and we had a family dinner. He read to my kids; we talked and laughed and Nels and Grandma did their typical battle of wills which I find delightful. My dad drank some wine and seemed happy and of course looked too skinny.

I feel too tired and sad to write much about my father and his illness. Normally I'd try to dig down deep and let you know how I feel, but I don't want to.

Today was a big day; I was out the door by 8:30 when my mom, my aunt Patti, and her girlhood friend Nancy picked us up for breakfast. From there we were dropped off at the salon for haircuts; then walked to the Y where Nels and I watched Sophie in her swimming lessons. We walked another half mile to the Farmer's Market; then two buses home. Long, long naps for the kids as I baked, made dinner, and blogged my latest sewing accomplishment.

And oh Jesus. I can't stop, even though I know it's fucked up.

Labels: bus, family life, FOO, random, sorrows, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

I'm kind of extra exhausted today. I'm physically tired because I've been biking and bussing everywhere with the children (who continue to love this lifestyle). I'm lonely but I accept this is reality for now. I've made a few choices recently (jettisoning a person / conflict or two) and although I am better off, these choices were painful. I haven't found close friends to consistently spend time with (that's bad!), but neither have I sacrificed my personal integrity to join a group I don't feel right about (that's good!). I also just know it's hard to move, hard to leave a life behind. I'm not trying to push myself feeling any better than I do, which is not so good.

My creative well is being drained slowly and for a while I was watching helplessly; but I'm coming to a decision about my sewing. Currently, I'm not sewing enough to feel happy about my sewing, to succeed in my Etsy contest efforts, and to create clothes for my family in my 6-month commitment. It is not working for me to try to sew at home and this is mostly because my children often do not nap and I am not getting the one to three hours of solid, silent, me-time. In the evening I am far too tired, mostly from the additional physical exercise we're getting. I am not going to bemoan this or be overly frustrated, but I need to find a solution. Perhaps when my parents get home from their vacation I will take my mom up on the "sewing studio" offer. I have finally let go of thinking I could sew daily, and although I'm sad, it's more realistic.

Today my Nels did in fact nap; while he did, my daughter watched and helped as I made a chocolate cake from scratch and homemade pizza (from easy and tasty recipes on allrecipes.com for dough & sauce). I have been enjoying learning to cook new things: also buying cheaper groceries than I'd been used to in PT. Because of this I am now, finally, making yeast breads my bitch! You heard me.

I'm grateful to my husband. He has shown nothing but enthusiasm for our biking routines, for my cooking, for my requests at housework and my desire for more recreation as a foursome (tonight: family swim). And today two books arrived from Amazon: Ralph had surprise-ordered me a sewing book and a cookbook, both that I've wanted for some time.

So due to my efforts being applied in the culinary sphere I now have, foolishly, 85% of a giant chocolate cake on my counter. Anyone?

Labels: bike, bus, food, gratitude, Ralph, sorrows

1. Yesterday we found out my cat Fancy had been killed. R.I.P. my beloved, sweetest kitty.

2. The last 22 hours have been me at a surprise 30th birthday party / going away party / slumber party with my FOO and my most dear friends. I am still kinda shell-shocked (including, see #1). I need time to myself with the kids - to clean up (us and the house), rest, relax, nap, and pull myself together.

Individual thank yous will follow, but for now: thank you to all my friends and family who really, really surprised me with a wonderful thirtieth birthday party. It was a lovely experience.

Labels: birthday, FOO, friends, party animal, sorrows