Every Time

I kept Isa home from school today.

At 6:00am just after my alarm went off I got a txt from her school telling me that threats had been made against students at the school but "not to worry. Yeah, no. At first I was worried that I was just freaking out for no reason.  That I was being "that" parent.  But you know what? I didn't care.

I remember so vividly, being in high school, attending my classes like normal, and finding out that across the country a massacre was taking place at a high school just like mine. Columbine High School.  For hours we learned of the terrors that were/had happened.  It seemed to take forever.  There was no social media, kids didn't have cell phones, there were no school procedures for this. For hours we didn't know what was going on. Just that people were dead and dying.  Kids my age. Just like me. We could see bodies, blood, people crying and running literally for their lives. I'm sure everyone my age remembers that day. It hits hard.

It changed everything. We all saw the world differently. With a layer of suspicion and fear. I remember there were a couple boys in my grade. Boys who wore trench coats. People started whispering about them. Were they going to come to school and shoot us? They were excluded and treated like freaks. Ironically, that treatment is the excuse those other boys used for their massacre. We were all afraid. Grasping for some kind of logic and Some way that it could be prevented.

As the years go on, violence at school becomes more and more common. Several of Isa's friends played it off like it was no big deal. Like that could never happen here. They joked, teased and dismissed. Well, I've got news for you. NO ONE thinks it will actually happen to them or someone they know. But it does. So many families have lost children, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles... people. People were lost. Lives changed forever. IT DOES HAPPEN.

Regardless of the fact that no violence took place at her school today, I'm grateful that Isa's school takes any threat against a student or the school as a whole seriously. I'm even more grateful that they opted to send out that txt and email. I'm sure there are many families who would have loved the chance to get a warning. To have the chance to keep their loved ones home and away from danger. I'm so so grateful I had a choice, and I'd make the same one every time.

40%

A couple of days ago I shared this blog post on Facebook. So many people responded with love validation and support :). Interestingly though, a whopping 40% of the interactions I had about this post did EXACTLY what I was talking about.  It was then that I realized, "They don't even know they're doing it!"

I'm not going to name names because that isn't important. Most people don't realize their comments of encouragement or advice can be hurtful, because they feel that it comes from a good place.  They think, "But we are close enough that this can't apply to me" or "I know exactly how to make them feel better". They don't realize that it can leave the listener feeling like their sadness isn't valid or that they should change their feelings in order to make the people around them less uncomfortable.

Why are we so uncomfortable with sadness? Why are we so quick to try and make it go away? Sad things happen.  Sometimes many sad things happen. And in those moments, we don't want encouragement or a personal anecdote about that person one time and how it all worked out. (Personal stories about your own experiences are OK, just leave out the part about how it got better, or how it will all be fine. It just glosses over the sadness).  What we want to know is that being sad is OK, that it's normal, and that we can stay there for as long as WE need to. When advice it wanted, we will ask for it. Just wait.

That's hard for most people. It's almost instinctive to try and make the sadness stop--to give them advice to get them out of their current situation and move on.  What does that even mean, move on?  To where? What if it sucks there too? In my mind it conjures up a person who has done their best to forget about why they were sad, only to be reminded from time to time and get completely derailed. Who does that help?

We all know the situation will end but that doesn't make it hurt less now.  For some of us the situation causing the pain will last our life time (I hope. Yep, I worry about that too).   I know it's hard to watch someone go through a painful and/or sad situation, but you need to let them do just that. Go through it.  Love them, validate them, cry with them. It's "Mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort," not "Try to cheer up those that mourn and give perspective to those that stand in need of comfort."

It's All Not Going To Be "OK"

I like to keep it real around here.  None of this motivational crap.  Why? Because, that is not my life.

That is not the life of many parents who have children with special needs.  I may have moments where I see the successes of hard work, but those moments are often over shadowed with, well, the work. Yes, Emmeline can walk. But only after HOURS and HOURS of PT. Hours and hours of hearing her cry during sessions, walking halls, stretching muscles and walkers. Hours of me crying... and that's just for walking.  We have fought and clawed our way to get Emmeline where she is today and we fight and claw to get her where she is going.

It's dirty, hard work.  The weight of it settles in your chest like a brick.   If you aren't dealing with an acute situation or the fall out afterward, you are planning your next therapy or doctor appointment, surgery or IEP meeting etc. Then there is the constant nag of what's to come.  The worry and fear of "what if" or "will she".  Of trying not to focus on it too hard or you suddenly find it hard to breath.

It's real and it's every day.

I made it 9 years and 1 day.

The camels back had not just broken, but exploded. Filling out the depression and anxiety survey was harder than I thought.  It felt like each box I ticked was a tick mark of my failure. All the ways I wasn't tough enough.  All the ways I could have done better. The doctor listened and created a treatment plan. I left with a scrip for D and A meds and was asked to come back in 2 weeks.

I hate the meds.  I cry all the time.  If the meds are supposed to make me feel normal, does that mean a normal person would cry all the time if they lived my life?... Part of me wishes they don't work, because if they work then I'll need them. I don't like to 'need' things. The need just creates the fear of it eventually not being there and then what will I do?  I need it.

I remember one day asking Josh, "Do you think it's my anxiety that makes me thing every time I stop the car someone is going to run up and try to break in?" His response?  "Well, it's not, not your anxiety."

I mean, do they really expect 2 pills to help with that mind? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe I'm just doing this to prove that I'm a hopeless case of sad and rage but since I get the job done that should be OK.

I live in constant fear of the unknown.  Fear that this will be the last time I put my daughter to bed. Fear that she will never be independent.  Fear that she may not be able to have children.  Fear that she wont be able to get married.  Fear that people will be mean to her. Fear that this bout of Pneumonia will be THE one. Fear that Isabella will one day have to take responsibility for my choices. It goes on and on...

Why do people think it's not OK to think you are playing a really shitty hand? And just let that sit. Why do they feel compelled to find the silver lining?  Sometimes it just sucks! I'm allowed to think that, given that I'm living it. You'll give me some pep talk and then go on your merry way.  It's all still there. It doesn't lighten the load. It's OK to be mad that it's not OK.

'Tis The Season

Early October is always hard for me.  It has become my scheduled extra worry time.  Today marks the morning of Emmeline's first of many surgeries.  It's hard to think back on what I thought my life would be like then and what it has turned into in reality.  When you're told your baby needs surgery, you assume it's just the one.  That they will fix whatever minor problem there is and you'll be able to get back to your "normal" life with a newborn. 

For us, this was just the beginning of a long, rough road.  Just 2 short days after this first surgery, we would be admitted to the hospital for 6 weeks after Emmeline stopped breathing. I would live 2 hours from home, half of the 6 weeks at the hospital and half at the Ronald McDonald House. Emmeline would endure 5 surgeries and countless test during that first hospital stay.  In the end they only sent us home because they had no idea what else to do for her and were afraid she would get sick if she stayed in the hospital during flu season. We settled in at home with a portable hospital room.  The only thing I couldn't do was start an IV.

That time was such a blur. I remember a lot of tears, anger and sadness.  Watching your child struggle to breathe, eat, and feeling just plain miserable was beyond heartbreaking.  She hated to be held by the time we got home because she basically only got picked up at the hospital for tests, so she associated begin touched with pain. Holding her while her little body flailed, trying to get away, was shattering. 

To date, Emmeline has had 14 surgeries and has probably been sedated close to 50 times.  It's been a rough road, for all of us.  She's the toughest person I know. I wonder if she even knows that? To her this is just her life. She's never known anything different.  I know though.  I know how much harder she has to try to do pretty much everything that just comes naturally to her peers. I still get angry about it.  Why her? Why does her life have to be so hard? She has the same dreams and desires about her adult life as any kid.  I hate that I know some of those things are impossible.

For some reason October triggers all these memories and fears about the future. As the leaves fall, so does my sanity. Thankfully,  Emmeline isn't having acute near death experiences on a regular basis anymore.  She can walk, talk, cuddle, draw, run, skip!, ride a bike and so many more things doctors told us she likely would never do. Like I said, she's the toughest person I know.  I just wish she hadn't been put in situation where she proved that at such a young age.

Not Today, But When?

We have worked really hard since she was born to give Emmeline her best shot at life.  At first that meant helping her eat and breath.  That turned into multiple surgeries, doctor appointments and more therapy than I can count.  We have probably spent weeks, if not months in driving time getting her to the best specialists we could find, and she has excelled.  She is doing phenomenal in school, therapy, Girl Scouts and even does part of our family runs with us.  It's more than any doctor thought possible.

But I worry.

She blends pretty well at school.  She doesn't really notice the differences yet in herself and her peers.  They help her feel included and demands aren't super high. They're 8. They wait for her in line, hold her hand to help her down the hill to the playground, run a little slower during tag so she can catch them, pick her to sit with them at lunch etc. In short, most of them are kind. 

But when will that change?  I live in constant fear of that day.  When Emmeline will be left out, and notice.  When kids will get tired of doing everything slower to include her. When will she notice they are doing everything slower and resent it?  She desperately wants to play soccer, but I can't handle seeing her realize she can't keep up, or finally getting the ball only to have it stolen while she plans the motor skill to actually kick it. My heart aches at the idea of having her be so excited to play only to be left in the dust. I thought "maybe we could find a Special Olympics soccer club or something". But she wants to do the rec league with her friends and she would know.  That's the thing.  She's physically limited but crazy observant and smart. You can't get anything over on that girl.  She would know.

I wish there was more I could do/have done to help her. The reality bomb is, that there are going to be things my daughter can't do.  That no matter what fancy therapy or lesson I get her, she just can't do it the way everyone else does.  But she doesn't know that yet, and waiting and watching for that realization is one of the most torturous things I have ever endured.

A Mother of a Day

Some Mother's Days are like this:

This girl knows me so well. 

Some Mother's Days are like this: 

After I refused to hold her juice filled plate while also driving the van. She wants Daddy.

My Mother's Day was both, several times.  Emmeline is not a respecter of holidays and neither is teenage hormone Isa. At tuck in Isa and I were talking about it and I had an epiphany. "I understand that Emmeline doesn't process emotions like a normal person.  The problem is, I do". 

That makes it hard sometimes.  Really, really hard.  My girls give me emotional whiplash like nobody's business, but they're my girls, and I've been their Mom for another year.

The Down and Dirty

It's kind of my thing.  I say what everyone else is thinking, and then some.  Most of the time it's the funny things. Not so much of late.
I'm just going to lay it out there for anyone else who might be in the same spot. Solidarity and all that. Lately I haven't found anything funny.  If I'm not in a fog then I'm sad or raging pretty hard.  I have been having recurring dreams where I lose it.  Like, screaming, black out, might have a stroke in my dreams losing of the it. After the first one I hoped I'd feel better once I burned off all that steam.  But, like not eating carbs, I was left unfulfilled and still cranky. And so the rage dreams continue. Please refrain from telling me to do yoga, or meditate or some crap. Did it, done it, tired it.  As Bowler Hate Guy says:  "Everyone will tell you to let it go and move on, but don't! Instead, let it fester and boil inside of you! Take these feelings and lock them away. Let them fuel your actions. Let hate be your ally, and you will be capable of wonderful, horrid things. Heed my words, Goob: don't let it go". Sounds like solid advice to me.

I wouldn't say I believe in Karma per se.  Mostly because I think I'm a pretty good person. But I have TERRIBLE luck.  Josh tried to brush it off when I would talk about it but I'm pretty sure that even he is a believer now.  Shit happens to me.  Some big, some little.  But if someone is going to trip, drop something, hit something lose something or not get picked when being picked it good or get picked when getting picked is bad etc, that someone is me. It wears on you.  Most of it's little stuff but when all that stuff builds you're left feeling like "What the hell!? I totally braked for that bunny earlier today! Where's the love?" It's like Chinese water torture of bad luck.  Sure it's just a drop of water but when that 1000th drop hits your head, you could kill someone with your bare hands.
It makes for one cranky Megan. One that rage dreams, and says the F-word more than the average working mother. But life must go on, so you lock it up tight and go about your business.  Until the next drop of water hits your head and then you develop an eye twitch.

No Joke, as I wrote this the display died on my computer.  Computer Services was at a loss as to why.  Um, because it's mine...because it's mine.

Why I Run

Everyone runs for a reason.

I chuckle/gag when I run past a girl with perfume, matching workout outfit and earrings with her hair all fixed or a guy soaked in cologne.  What the heck are you doing out here!?  Leave the people who are sucking in air for all they are worth in peace so we don't have to choke on your fumes.
I get annoyed when a guy riding past on his bike slows down and takes off his sunglasses to make it even more obvious that he is looking me up and down.  Or the older ladies who give me judgemental looks.  No, I'm not wearing these compression shorts for attention.  I don't want to be stared at.  I wear them to avoid chafing.   Isn't that sexy?
I'm not running to fit into some cute outfit, or impress someone. It's hard and I'll be honest, I don't care enough about either of those things to really stick with it. I figure that's why I don't see many of those gussied up girls/guys out for a second run later on.  They figured out there were easier ways to get what they were running for.


The thing I run for is a constantly moving target.  No matter how fast I run or how far, the target keeps moving.  I run to be strong.  Not just regular strong.  I run to be strong enough to do this:

(Isa was making faces in all the other ones so I figured she'd rather have the back of her head;))

Strong enough to pick her up when she can no longer carry herself.  That amount of strength is constantly going up as she grows.  Eventually I wont be able to do it. I've had to add more variety than just running to help my muscles keep up.  But while I can I will.  I want her to play outside, go to the beach, see the view from the top of a mountain, and a million things other kids can just go do without a second thought.  All these things are hard for her and even if she tries she will get tired quickly and need help to reach her goals. It's motivating and heartbreaking all at once. 

So creepy sunglasses guy and little old lady can suck it.  I have my reason.

Validation

I ran across this little gem today on Facebook. It tells the story of 13 year old girl and her phone.  It is, in one word, heartbreaking.  This girl is living the life I fear for Isa.  Not that she is a bad kid.  She is academic and involved in sports.  She has a loving family and has all of her life necessities readily available.  It's just that dang phone.  There is too much at her fingertips and the fingertips of people who's brains aren't developed enough to handle or be responsible with it.  Oh, that damage they do.

Isa went through a time where she was actively trying to convince us to get her a phone.  I read the news, yeah no.  We got her an iPad mini.  Everything she does on it backs up to my iPad (including messages). She can't download anything without my password.  She can also only use it while on wifi so it limits her time. Does that make me too controlling?  Maybe in 4 years it will but now, not so much.  I watch Law and Order SVU people! Kids aren't capable of understanding the ramifications of their actions. Being a teenager is hard enough without worrying if your selfie is good enough and if you are getting enough likes.  (You know what I love?  Blogger just underlined the word 'selfie'.  It doesn't recognize it as a real word.  Yay blogger!). 

When I was Isa's age I spent quite a bit of time in a large holly tree in our backyard.  I would pretend I lived there and would climb to the top to see all the undiscovered wilderness I imagined was around me.  When the neighbor kids were home we would play, softball, soccer, steal the flag or build a hotel in the woods behind their house. We were outside using our imaginations.  It was liberating.  I felt independent.

Even with just an iPad, Isa can be like a zombie.  Always looking at something.  I talk to her and 5 minutes later she looks up realizing she never responded.  She has to check her score on a game or see if so and so messaged her back yet.  It makes me sad.  Sometimes I get excited when she misbehaves and I have an excuse to take it away.  After a while she isn't mad about it and actually spends time with me. We have real talks, or make something together.  I miss her. 

It's hard at school though.  Everyone has a phone and I guarantee if they knew I could read the messages they probably wouldn't txt her anymore. I wonder how many of their parents if any check their phones?  This is the time your kids are changing the most.  They are figuring out who they are and if you don't help them someone else will.  Do I really want someone on her electronic device teaching her what she's worth? Highly unlikely. Their brains are growing and learning so fast. Help them fill it with imagination and goodness!  There is so much time for all that grown up stuff (which is totally overrated).  childhood is so, so short.  Make them play outside, run in the sprinkler, ride their bikes, climb trees, dig in the dirt!  Hold on to it, they can't go back.

Heavy

I have a dear friend who is in the hospital with her child.  It's hard to watch. The memories come back like a flood.  Being in the the hospital wears on you.  It's like as soon as that admit paperwork is processed you pick up this 50 pound bag of rocks and carry it with you everywhere.  It's exhausting and sometimes there seems to be no end in sight.  You might be there a day, week, months or even a year. The thing is, when you have a medically complicated child that bag never really goes away.  When you get to go home you just set it down for a bit, and as you slide it from your shoulders to the floor you know,  you will have to pick it back up again.  Maybe sooner rather than later, but you will have to carry it again. But next time it will be heavier because you will remember the last time.  The trauma builds.  When you come back it's like you never left. The fight is never over.

When Emmeline was a baby I didn't have any idea what was going to happen.  I didn't bond with her really.  That's not to say I didn't fight for and protect her.  I fought for her hard.  I didn't want to get too attached though.  I think deep down I thought she would die and I knew if I truly fell in love I wouldn't be able to handle it. Stupid I know.  I would have been a wreck either way but it was easier if in my mind I was merely her advocate and not her Mother.  She smelled like medical tape and antiseptic, not my baby. But someone had to fight for that tiny body and I did. Eventually I gave in to how much I loved her and made sure she knew it every second.  Just in case. She was there for so long and has been in and out of the hospital more times then I can count, wracking up 14 surgeries.  She's 7.

It's expected now and sadly feels normal.  When things happen with Emmeline and I tell people, they are concerned and worried.  When it doesn't land us in the hospital it seems like nothing.  Emmeline fell last week and cut her head.  Isa brought her into my office with blood flowing down her head and neck.  When I told people they were all concerned and shocked. They had nice, normal responses.  My response?  No big deal.  Clean, apply pressure and get her in to be glued.  Emmeline's response?  "Mommy I need to go to dance!  Just put a band aid on it!" Our reactions come with memories. 

For someone who has an average kid, going to get their head glued isn't a "normal" occurrence and probably freaks them out.

For someone who falls 50+ times a day, only cutting your head once seems pretty good. 

For someone who has stood by their child's bed as they are being bagged because they aren't able to breath on their own, a cut on the head is what I pray for.

I feel like every time we go to the hospital I add a rock to my bag.  It weighs more and more every time I have to pick it up.  But when it needs to be lifted I do.  Because if I can add the rock to my bag instead of Emmeline's I'd add two.

Up To Something

I got a txt and started frantically searching the Internet.  Hoping it was all a hoax.  No.  My number 1 was number 2 in the rule of 3s.  I started getting txts from friends but couldn't really answer.  My breakfast is still sitting on my desk next to me.  I keep flipping back and forth from wanting to eat everything and nothing.  Nothing is winning.  It's awkward at work. My office is a fish bowl so everyone can see me, but today it doesn't really matter. The people who know me know why I'm upset.
I first saw him in Robin Hood where I loved hating him. Then Sense and Sensibility where I loved loving him. After that, it was a done deal. I think that is where my love of the "older man" really bloomed.  His voice is intoxicating in the best way and he has a magical way of making you feel what he feels. Even as a manically depressed robot.
Part of me feels like today would be the best suited day to finally watch Harry Potter 7.2.  The other part of me is like "ARE YOU CRAZY!!! DON'T DO THAT!!! Having him die in reality and fantasy would be just too much.
He made me see that Snape was a good guy even when everyone else thought he was the worst.  He knew the motivation and even though it wasn't known to the reader then, you could see it. So complicated yet so simple and he made it look effortless. It was some of the best casting I have ever seen. He was exactly how I pictured it.

Josh got me these for Christmas and this was how I arraigned it first thing. It just felt right. Magical.

The hardest part for me about someone dying is that this is all you have to hold you over.  Nothing new. You can redo what you've done but don't get more.  And once that's it, it's hard. Especially when that someone is insanely talented and you know there was so much more in there...

This Wouldn't Happen If I Had A Penis!

My Mom emailed me an article.  It's amazing.  It said, in a much more articulate way, what I have been saying for years. Here is a link.  I highly recommend reading the whole thing but the gist is, society sucks.  OK maybe that wasn't their gist, but it's true.  This particular article is addressing the HUGE gender bias in LDS Church programs for girls VS boys. This short changes not only ALL the women in your life, but society as a whole.  Imagine what they could do if they were given all the options.  Not "girls can do anything boys can do" but "girls AND boys can do anything people can do".

Why are there lesson or statements being made all around us about how to be good men or women?  How about good people?! Why is my daughter being taught that patience is a "motherly attribute"? Do Fathers not need to practice patience too? Train them to be good PEOPLE.

This article is addressing a specific program and I do agree with their points.  But this issue sadly goes way beyond Activity Days.  It's everywhere.  In school, other church programs, homes etc.  Everywhere my daughters go they are being programmed.  Programmed to be women. To be pretty, wear the right clothes, keep an organized home, say the right thing, be smart (but not smarter than Timmy),  and don't question things. It's disgusting.

Whether it's 7th grade, turning 12, being in full public school or most likely a combo of all those things, Isa has changed.  I, like the author, have seen the light going out of my daughter's eye.  She is making academic choices for social reasons.  She reaches for her iPad before her homework.  She needs certain things with certain labels.  She wants to wear heels, makeup, push up bras and whiten her teeth.  She is picking herself apart physically and finding herself lacking. Lacking from what? Who told her that her main goal as a 12 year old is to look "better"? Meanwhile boys are showing up in sweatshirts and basketball shorts. They probably got up 10 minutes ago and my daughter spent more than that brushing her hair.  She is asking me for things to "improve" her appearance but not  her brain. She reads less and is looking for a screen more.  Last Christmas she asked for a bike.  This Christmas, iPad covers of her favorite TV show and name brand shoes. 6 months ago she told me her favorite celebrity was Neil Degrasse Tyson.  Now I'm afraid to ask.

Try as I might I can't seem to stop it.  I feel like I'm trying to hold back a tidal wave of preconceived ideas of what my daughter should be before they crush and change her into what a "girl" is.  It's impossible, she's already drowning. It's coming at her from every side. It's ingrained so deep in the world that she can't escape it.

 Right now she wants to be an Immunochemist which I think is crazy awesome.  I hate that she will have to work harder than her male counterparts though.  She'll be in a constant battle to prove that she is just as good as a boy and I just pray it doesn't wear her down. In school and work.  To make it even more fun she will also get paid less.  Because she's a girl. Her lack of penis was the only mark against her society needed to decide her fate.

WHY DO WE STILL HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS?!?!?!  Seriously.

I guess they are afraid she will "think with her lady parts". That would be a great T-shirt slogan for a feminist group.  " I think with my lady parts". Probably to clever for the masses though.

 

Sorry, you'll have to click the little "YouTube" in the corner to open the video.  It's worth it.

Forevermore

 I've always been lucky to have great men in my life.  My Uncle John was one of the more awesome. It's been almost a year since he passed away.  My heart still hurts from it.  All the time.  I think there are things that happen that make us sad, maybe really sad, but there are only a few that make that mark on your heart. That whatever portion of your heart that held that person permanently aches from their absence.

 I keep hoping that if I ignore it, next Tuesday wont come.  Just like how I wish I could not think about that moment when my Dad called to tell me.  But Tuesday is coming and I think about it constantly.  Knowing the pain and sorrow that's coming is hard.  I want to block it out but I feel like I'm really blocking out him.

My Uncle John was amazing.  He loved me.  I always knew he did.  He always had a hug and helping hand.  Even if sometimes the helping was really gross (thinking of the time he found Emmleine on the stairs with her g-tube at her feet along with everything that had been in her stomach. As her mother I can say it is NASTY.  Bet he didn't expect he'd run into that!).  The night he took all  us kids to an impromptu late night trip to Phaser Land was one of my fondest memories. Even if I did end up domino knocking down quite a few barriers because I was/am so clumsy. He was very giving and hard working and I admired that.  He made people smile.

Thinking about him makes me miss him more.  Knowing I wont have that hug and "Hi sweetheart!" as our next family get together is painful.  I want more.  So many more. But I'm glad I had the ones I did and I hold them close to my heart.  It's how I know he loved me. I hope I hugged back tight enough that he knew how much I loved him too. And always will.

Two wild and crazy guys!

As Mushy As This Girl Gets

In my freshman year of college I had my heart broken.  It was devastating and I thought there was no recovery in sight.  I was sure I would never move on and so I decided to plan out my life alone.  I still wanted kids so I assumed I would just use a sperm bank or something.  I was tough.  I could handle the logistics of child rearing and love the crap out of that kid.
Since Josh has moved I have been able to get a taste of this and you know what?  I can do it.  The logistics are the easy part. 95% of the time the girls get everywhere they need to go with a parent there if need be.  And yes, I love the crap out of them. I thought this was all I would need. I didn't see the most difficult part.
The hard part is the vacancy.  The absence of a partner.  Not in dealing with the kids (although that can be tough), but in dealing with myself.  The emptiness.
I don't rush  over to the couch to get the good seat, there isn't anyone else to get it.
When I turn to make an inappropriate joke, there isn't anyone to hear it.
There isn't anyone for me to slide my cold feet under to warm them up.
I don't put perfume on before bed, there isn't anyone to smell me.
When I feel exceptionally cute and realize there isn't anyone there to see.
The nights are the worst.  I wake up, multiple times a night, reaching out to lay my hand on the chest that isn't there.
Maybe if I'd never had it I wouldn't miss it.  But I did, and I do...

The Perfect Space

Those that know me well know that I frequently say the phrase "I hate the way emotions make me feel".  This is mostly due to the fact that when I feel an emotion I FEEL that emotion.  It is very very intense and I have trouble processing it.  In some cases like sadness, anxiety or fear it will cause physical pain that can overstimulate me to the point of a freak out/shutdown.  I even feel emotions I think other people should feel. I over relate. To most, this isn't news. They have seen this happen countless times.  

This reaction means that I usually try to avoid intense emotions all together and surprise, surprise, I'm a bit of a control freak.

Obviously I can't hold all the negative emotions at bay so sometimes, some leak out.  It isn't usually pretty. 

So, I came up with a way to let a little bit of emotion out in a "controlled" setting.  Music.  I can listen and feel whatever the singer is sharing for 3-5 minutes and then it ends.  Well, usually.   At my most self aware, I will use music to help make myself feel the emotion I know I'm holding back. So that I can feel it constructively and have a starting and stopping point. The songs I use for this must be carefully chosen.  Whatever I choose will be forever tainted with sadness.  Whenever I listen to it, tomorrow or years from now, I will feel the weight of that time.  The full emotion of whatever I let out during the song.  It will be associated with a specific memory and pain.

When I'm not so self aware I pick some cheesy upbeat music in hopes that I can make myself feel THAT way.  It works, for 3-5 minutes. When the song ends so does the illusion of happy.  Or sometimes I just listen to the sappy stuff so that music I love wont become tainted.  I can't hold the emotions back and I'm just out there, feeling it and and making correlations willy nilly.  You have to be careful with that stuff ;)  Josh hates my music now days.  He cringes when I turn it on. Knowing it will be something cheesy, with no depth, poorly written and poorly performed. It makes it fairly miserable for us to ride in a car together.  I don't want something good and he doesn't want something that makes him want to pull his ears off.  He's so picky.

But, I'm trying to be more of a grown up lately. Trying to teach your kid how to be more grown up will really help you see all the areas where you behave like a big baby. So today, I did it.  I turned on the Avett Brothers.  It's been 7 months.  Here's to hoping this doesn't kill them.

The Sweet Doctor

Shortly after the closure announcement a dear friend posted the last few seconds of 10's life.  The iconic phrase of " I don't want to go" was uttered and our hearts all broke. In that instant you know the emotional loss regeneration takes.  I used this line as a way of simply expressing my feelings about this place.  It ended up that I didn't have to go in the end, but Sweet Briar did. Sweet Briar died.  As much as we want to say it didn't, it did.  It brought that scene full circle for me.  Sweet Briar died but it didn't stay dead.  It regenerated. But, as any Doctor Who fan worth their salt knows, the new Doctor is different.  As is Sweet Briar.  It continues but isn't the same.  It has all the same memories, knows all the same people, has all the same places, but it has become something new.  No matter how hard it tries, the losses are still there.

Even though some students came back and some faculty and staff stayed, we are forever different.  It's still here but we feel the loss. Some lost students or friends.  Some are separated from their families. The whole place is filled with ghosts.  Everywhere I look I see an empty space. Where someone I know should be, but isn't.

I thought the hard part would be leaving.  Driving out of the gates knowing I wouldn't be back.  I was wrong.  The hard part was staying. Staying and watching the others go.  Feeling the emptiness.  Watching others try and fill their place. It feels like people are pretending they were never here at all.  It's lonely. 

Sometimes You Just Gotta Yell and Scream! (in your head)

Everyone is very interested.  They ask all the time. In many settings and situations.  The questions are usually something like these.

"Isn't it great that Sweet Briar is staying open?"

"I bet you're so relieved!"

"Are you guys staying?"

"It must be such a load off."

etc, etc...

I smile, nod, and thank them for their concern. I should be all of those things, but I'm not and I try to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Why?  Because in my head I'm throwing a temper tantrum. As they are walking away I go into a haze. In my head I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and stomping.  I'm throwing things and rubbing my face. I'm not smiling, I'm not relieved, and it's not a load off.  It's awful and complicated and hard.  The raw pain is still there.  We haven't been through something that will fade quickly.  It has been traumatic in a way I truly didn't expect and wasn't at all prepared for.  It has made our lives an emotional roller coaster from hell and it is far from over.

It would be great if the settlement resolved everything!  It didn't.  We are still living in a world of uncertainty and fear. The shock remains and we are jaded.  I know the new administration is doing their best.  We all are. We are just so tired. The fight was long and hard and it hurts. That's the best way I can explain it. I hurt.  Physically and emotionally, head to toe.

It's difficult to engage with people and when I do I'm exhausted. I often go for walks around campus and get really angry.  We had something amazing here and it will never be the same.  In that, the closers were successful. They killed it. It will never be the same.  Sweet Briar will be here, but never the way it was. I get so so angry.

We have met so many amazing people.  Some have had to move on.
It looks so simple to an outsider. The college is open so we all get our jobs back so it's like it never happened right?  Wrong.  People had to take jobs where they could get them. Josh included.  People who wanted to stay but have had to sign contracts during the uncertainty.  This settlement came in the 11 hour. Perfect for some but heartbreaking for others. The pain continues.  I like to think that one day it will go away.  I'm not so sure though. I guess that's how it is when you're in the thick of it?  You feel like it's unending.  You try, but just can't quite find the way out.

I'm hoping that the rebuild will help heal some wounds.  I'm afraid all it will do it make me miss those that aren't here.  The missing ones who's lives were also shattered.

As they inevitably move on, I try and find my happy place.  Crying wont do any good, but I cry anyway. I can't help it. But there is nothing we can do. It is what it is. It's done. And it didn't have to be.

Why It Matters Enough to Take Over My Facebook Feed

I've tried going over it in my head repeatedly.  Why has Sweet Briar's Closure announcement been so life shattering for me?  I'm a wreck.  I break down at work, home, in the car, at church, at the doctor, everywhere.  I'll do my best to focus on whatever task I have in front of me but still find myself just going through the motions until I fall apart.
I feel it deep down.  My heart hurts.  It hurts to breath and move.  The crying doesn't really help either.  I have a constant crying headache.

My kids a heartbroken.  Emmeline the most.  I didn't see that one coming.  She is usually the one that goes with the flow.  She is used to not having much control in her life.  Yesterday was the first time she was able to mention moving without getting upset.  Up until then,  several times a day she would cry about it.  "Nothing will ever be the same" she would say.  What do I say? She wants me to say it will be the same, but I can't.  It wont. Ever.

We all thought this would be where we could actually make a home.  Where the girls would grow up.  Where they could have the freedoms I had as a kid and more. It's more than we ever hoped for.  I thought "we have had a hard go of it the last 6 years.  We all worked hard and this is our reward." I breathed it in and let this place settle into the deep, dark bitter parts of my soul and shed light where it had been absent for years.  I jumped in with both feet and fell head over heels in love. Not only is it beautiful here, there is a sense of family.  Everyone waives at everyone.  They are happy to see you and you help each other out.  You feel like you are part of something that you have been searching for but didn't know it until you found it. My girls have opened up and progressed in amazing ways.  Isa and her friends down the street have the most amazing adventures in the woods and throughout campus.  They have planned their college careers here and all the things they would do together. Emmeline has become so much more comfortable and confident outside.  Due to her balance issues she has always been wary of being on uneven surfaces.  Not here.  She runs and plays.  Yes, she still falls occasionally, but she just gets up and goes. I constantly find myself stopping and being overwhelmed with happiness.  I would look around, amazed that it even existed. It is, in one word, Magical.

And then someone killed it.  But not right away.  Someone walked up and gave it 4 months to live.  And I get to watch it die.  Watch it slowly empty and all the lights go out.  Then leave it behind, alone.  Every day I feel sick.  Like I'm fumbling around trying to stay busy and ignore the impending doom.  Flip flopping between acceptance, denial, anger and sadness.  Mostly anger and sadness.

Someone drew a parallel to it being like a person walking up and saying "that person over there is bleeding to death, but there's nothing we can do, so just leave them there bleeding until they die." Doesn't seem quite right does it? It seems like you should try everything you could imagine until they actually die. Try until there is no more trying to be done. And so I post.  Anything and everything, so that people will know.  This place was here, it was real and it was amazing.

The Cat in the Hat

So I got an email from Emmeline's teacher saying that if we wanted to send our kids to school in a red t shirt or something for Dr. Suess's birthday we could.  Yeah, I think we can do better than that.
I figured I could whip something basic up from my felt stash and luckily I had just enough red. Here is what you need:
1 Black Shirt
2 (approx) sheets of felt in each red and white.
hot glue
1 headband
needle and thread

I cut an oval from the first sheet of white felt.  It took almost the whole sheet.

Then I did a (very) rough stitch around the edge.  I should note that I am planning on dismantling the shirt after the fact so if you want a permanent costume you would probably want to use a sewing machine.

I didn't have a whole sheet of red so if you use the whole sheet you would end up with a bigger bow.  I did and accordion fold and some pinching to get it how I wanted it and then used hot glue and put a few dots of glue to hold together the folds.

Then use a long strip, around 12 inches long.  About the length of a regular sheet of felt.  Then cut it to look like this.  Not the little notch in the top.  That is from a previous project.

Wrap the long piece around to cover the glue in the middle and make it look like a tied bow. Then hot glue it in the back to hold the long strip in place.

Then I sewed it (roughly) to the top of the shirt. 

On to the hat!  Use a large mouth glass to trace a circle.  Cut out two.

Sandwich the headband between the two circles and glue around the edge not leave a gap for the headband so you can adjust the hat once it's on your head.

For traditional Cat in the Hat you have a white brim and then 2 white and 3 red stripes.

Rough stitch them together alternating red and white.

Then sew it into a tube by sewing up the side.

Cut out a red circle and sew it to the top of your tube.  Then turn the whole thing right side out.

I then glued the tube to the white base. This can be tricky but it will work.  It would probably be easier if you stuffed your tube with a filler of some kind so it would be a bit more stiff.  Hindsight.

The Cat in the Hat.

A Mommy a Teacher and a Dentist

I am SUPER surprised that Emmeline added that last one to her list of things she wants to be when she grows up after this visit to the dentist.  She was in one word, Terrible. I have been taking my girls to the dentist since they were 2.  You would have thought that Emmeline had never even heard of one much less seen one.
We were there today because Emmeline had what dentist call "shark teeth".

This is basically when the permanent teeth come in behind the baby teeth and the baby teeth don't fall out thus creating two rows of teeth.

It was pretty obvious that Emmeline's baby teeth weren't coming out and that there was no room for the permanent teeth, so off to the dentist.  I figured they would just pull them.  I talked to Emmeline about it for days before hand in hopes that it would help her cooperate.  No such luck.  She barely let him look and after about 15 minutes of trying to coax her to open her mouth so he could numb her I finally had to institute the full body lock down. Some doctors have been pretty appalled in the past when I have used this technique but I think he was pretty relived.  We were hoping that we had been honest about the sting when she got numbed that she would believe us when we said the rest wouldn't hurt.  No such luck there either.  After another 20 minutes of trying to get her to open her mouth they decided to try gas.  They were out.  Not my day.  We tried lock down again and putting in a bite block so she couldn't close her mouth once we got it open but he couldn't get her mouth open.  At all.  The girls is strong. Realizing the end was near and they might say we should try again another time I grabbed the bite block, basically sat on her, pried her mouth open and wiggled the bite block until I got it most of the way in.  I don't think he thought I would be able to do it but once I got her mouth open he quickly helped me get her cheek out of the way so the bite block locked in place. Sheesh! I was totally sweating by this point.

Anyway, After some quick twisting and pulling, we got these suckers out! Look how long that root was?! Seriously creepy. This picture doesn't really do it justice.

Not quite as magical as I wanted her first lost  tooth to be but hey, nothing with her has been quite how I pictured it.

Here is her gap :)

I honestly didn't think she deserved a prize. I did!  But I think the dentist felt pretty guilty so he let her get 3 prizes!  She of course was more than happy to accept 3 prizes.  Stinker. At least I got a workout.