Lost in My Grief… Oh, Wait! That’s Bed, Bath and Beyond…

Posted on January 7, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Spoiler:   Sarcastic, passive-aggressive bitch is back… temporarily.

My mother died one week ago. Frankly, the way my household runs and ignores my state of grieving* smothers me in arguing and * compassion, it has felt more like weekS.  Emotions seem to wash over me like waves, as so many of you have mentioned in the many thoughtful notes, emails or Facebook messages I’ve received.  I feel sad, I feel numb, I feel overwhelmed, I feel cranky, I feel playful and dying to let loose and laugh, and then I feel weepy again. There is truly a maelstrom of emotions right now and I am just caught in the center of the swirl.

I was so grateful to see three of my kids go back to school this week and the other two go to work. I’m not that mom who’s sad about any of that right now.  I just regret that the two who are working have been erratic, so I haven’t actually had a single day to just get up and sit with my thoughts alone, all day. Yesterday, I woke up and just started crying… and then couldn’t stop… for a really long time. Once I did, I was just numb again.  I think it might just be that way for a while, so I’m trying not to judge myself or stop it when it comes… But, my grief seems to be defined by solitude in my house right now. Little Man expressed his sadness last night, and it was the first time all week that I felt united in this emotions… Today however, taking down the Christmas tree and wrapping each of my precious ornaments for next year, it hit me again: that I will never spend another Christmas with my mother, and I felt terribly lonely in that thought. I have barely accepted that my grandmother is gone on Christmas (it’s been 10+ years); this is going to ache for a good, long while.

Four days after she’d died, I needed to get out a little and I ventured out to return some items across town. Of course, it stands to reason that many people might find it odd that I’d feel better going somewhere like Costco, or Bed, Bath and Beyond; but, frankly I felt much better being lost in the anonymous clusters of people I knew I’d find there, than trying to socialize for real. (One sacred lunch out, in safe hands: food for the soul, sushi for the belly).  The few people I recognized at Costco, I was able to avoid by hiding behind the mile high piles of fleece jackets on sale, or by ducking into the milk section.  I had a brief moment of painful awareness when I made a beeline for the fresh flowers, just before going to the check out, as I always do. My mother loved fresh flowers, and I bought them for her virtually every time I went to Costco. I got half way across the room and it hit me, that I won’t be buying flowers for her anymore. Gulp. I felt a moment’s panic and tearfulness coming on, and then a woman offering a taste of clam chowder accosted ** pulled me back from the brink. I declined the chowder, and accepted her smile.

Then I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond, and folks, I found that there is a whole world to escape into, where everything is colorful, organized, soothing, with so many options for changing your whole life, that grieving felt, well, out of place entirely. Recorded infomercials show you how to clean your driveway, mop your floor (without any effort at all), get in shape without really trying, redecorate any room or surface: beds, shower curtains and every nook and cranny of your home… even the things you didn’t think needed re-doing. Yeah, I do need throw pillows! My bed would be so much more inviting (maybe I’d actually start sleeping again?), if there were co-ordinated throw pillows. I had no idea that feathers, sequins and ruffles actually go together! But BB&B showed me the truth. Stylin’ bedding to make everything seem better.

Cruisin’ the aisles, I found that I want all of my cereals in clear, air tight containers now… not just my rice and nuts. All the food that can go in those containers looks really good. I bet I could go back to Costco and get me some of that!  I listened as another TV announcer showed me how I could really get my stainless steel refrigerator to actually stay clean and shiny, versus the drive me insane, constantly smudgy, endless hand prints and drips,* less than shiny appearance it currently has. I know, this shouldn’t matter to me in the first place, but it drives me fucking crazy * really does bother me some days. I bought the shammies and they do seem to clean well. I had already surprised Denmark with the Soda Stream for Hanukkah, because that girl likes her fizzy water and it seemed a worthwhile investment, rather than try to keep Pelligrino in stock. However, at BB&B I found dozens of flavors I can add, so that I might drink soda now too… I am NOT a soda drinker. However, they had me with “Tonic,”…  as in Grapefruit Tonic cocktails, which seems like a really good idea lately… if I had the energy to make them for myself because no one else is making them for me.* But wait!  There’s magic too and maybe there’s something in Criss Angel’s box of tricks that makes them for me, and makes dinner too?  The way that man stares, I’m not quite sure whether I’m supposed to be aroused, scared or totally mystified… but there’s a big ass stack of his magic for sale.

I was totally lost for about an hour. Seriously and hopelessly lost in Bed, Bath and Beyond. I almost bought a $69 Beatles poster that had most of their top album covers, before I remembered that I’m not actually a huge Beatles fan. There I said it, for the record (of note, I haven’t quoted the record much lately). I like them, and likes some songs a lot, and like the history and all, but I do not put the Beatles on to listen to very often. So, buying a giant poster was a clear sign that I am not entirely of sound mind. I also began to realize that going to BB&B is an exercise in deprivation. I was starving by the time I left there from all the food presentations and preparation items, that feature really yummy looking food. Seriously!  There is a brownie pan that makes only edges. I’d seen this before, but this picture made me want brownies something bad! It also got me sarcastically wondering: What if if I prefer the insides? Can someone come up with a pan that only makes insides?  I think not, super brownie engineers. Air popcorn poppers!  I would eat that.  Yet, for all the items to serve food, there is nothing to actually eat at BB&B.

In addition to all the amazing crap** that is just there all the time, this week there is the clearance section. All that holiday wrap that I thought was stupid and wasteful (three packages per roll, no matter how enthusiastically you word it), now looked good, at a couple of bucks. Suddenly, candles with pine inlays and gold leaf seem so festive, when they looked so tacky** unnecessary two weeks ago.

You do not have to spend big money going to spas people. At BB&B they take you there! There are CDs that play soft waves and forest sounds; there are facial gizmos, pedicure items, anything you could possibly imagine (or not) doing to your body, is on display at BB&B. Ways to actually wash your feet without bending over. Hmm, call me dirty, but I don’t actually wash my feet (except in the real summer, when I’ve been barefoot in my garden). I figure they get cleaned while I stand there cleaning the rest of me, right?  BB&B actually gave me permission to stay lazy forever, orI wanted to climb into one or two of those spa box covers and just disappear in the happiness those box people are feeling. Frankly, you could practically live at BB&B. Except for the lighting, I would probably live in Costco over BB&B for the free food alone though. There is no food in BB&B, just lots of things that make you want food… or make you want to make food… or just taunt you about food. By the way, brownies do seem to be the main food attraction, according to the labels I fondled and drooled on read.  (You thought I was lying about the Lazy thing right?)

There were a few, brief moments of awareness, while I stumbled, dazed through the store (including a framed copy of Awareness), when I was acutely conscious that I was just running away from the loss, that had threatened to swallow me in the flowers at Costco. I know that people. I’m not running away from it all the time… hell, it’s only been a week actually and I’ve been trying really hard to be mindful of this transition and what it means. BUT, for a little while in BB&B, I wanted to escape into that garish** shiny, colorful world of order and need fulfillment.

<– Dueling covers: a little Universe black humor?

It all came to a crashing halt at, of all places, the cash registers. Right there at the register (where, by the way, they pile up a million little things you don’t need, just in case you missed all the big other items), was the magazine Real Simple, placed there by a higher being (the Universe Mikalee, the F’ing Universe!) shaking me by the collar and reminding me to: keep it simple, to take a breath, to not give into my bad habit of shopping when I feel this way (that’s another post, some other day)… in my defense, the older copy next to it was encouraging me to buy 50 items that are under $50 and with the huge sales, were probably under $5… but, I focused on the first magazine and I put a few items back. I kept the Tonic flavoring (cocktails are critical); I kept the throw pillows (they will make my bed look really nice, and I really do need to sleep: a pretty bed is a cozy bed); the stainless steel magic cloths, and I kept the carpet runner, that will stop my kids’ and my dog’s muddy, wet shoes (the dog doesn’t wear shoes, I’m not that kind of dog owner) from leaving prints all over my kitchen, every day. Not bad for a chick who was ready to change her entire life and: vacuum seal it, air lock it, bake it crispy, fizzle, whizzle and just melt into the BB$B world of consumer tailspinning, only minutes before. (I did NOT buy the sequin, feather or ruffled pillows…^^ but, here’s the proof that they do indeed exist… AND, I think this really insane ** stylish jewelry holder would be so pretty with those pillows. Look how they match.)

<– Shiny Happy People, work around shiny, happy things, apparently. This is what he really looked like, only in human form.**

“How were your holidays?” A super, uber, more-uber-than-I’ve-seen- a-very-long time, sales clerk asked me. “Did you find everything ok? Is there anything you need help finding?”  Ummm. Well. Do you have something to help me zip through this rough patch called loss? Got an aisle for Moms? I mean my mom? Will these pillows really help me sleep? Do you sell over the counter morphine?  “My holidays were ok, thank you. Have a great day,” I managed, with a smile.  “Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he chirped. Yes, he did use that many exclamation points. I am not a defiler of the sacred exclamation…!

<— The recovering Passive-Aggressive girl in me, really wanted to buy this gun and shoot a few people around my house right now. Marshmallows!

In closing, I feel I must acknowledge something and perhaps make some apologies. Clearly, I jumped the gun just a little when I wrote my post Extra! Extra! Passive-Aggressive Control Freak… a few weeks back (man, it’s hard to believe it was just a few weeks back!). You might have caught a few snarky/sarcastic comments** Passive-Aggressive* (yes, people, <–that is the key. Note the asterisks) typos or mis-worded things in this post. There may be a few controlling things I’ve done lately. One might argue that by going out to return things in a timely fashion, four days after your mother dies, is a little controlling even… let alone, some of the other things I’ve been feeling, thinking, and doing lately.  I admit, I may have taken a few steps backwards lately, in my recovery. I considered writing a full blown retraction of that post, but I’m cutting myself some slack. Maybe I haven’t completely fallen off the wagon. Maybe I’m just trying to regain a little ground here, and not feel like the ground is actually moving under my feet, that floor is falling, and the sky might be falling. So, yes, I do want things the way I want them right now. It does matter if things are put away and siblings don’t fight constantly ** (<–Oops)*

<– This is an actual photo, in my kitchen. Note that several of those boxes are the gigantic Costco boxes, that hold 4 boxes… Ritz party anyone?

I’m doing my best to stay afloat, to accept all the love and generosity that has been doled out from so many incredible friends and acquaintances. People who dropped in to see my mom, showing me the kindness and her the respect, both of us the love, while I was at Hospice; the meals and goodies, arriving daily still; the hand written cards and the multitude of cyber love and condolences; quiet messages from unexpected people, who just said: “I’m here if you need it;” beautiful flowers (I love them too) and THE edgiest/coolest/neato’est of gifts: a specially packed (in ice) container of hand made tamales that will be an amazing dinner some night soon… with, of course, grapefruit cocktails!   Who knew you could actually send tamales? (Not the hot tamale candies I speak so often of, but true, Mexican tamales)  I will never, and I mean NEVER run out of Ritz crackers. (Tonight, Little Man saw the last two crackers on the dining room table my “desk” and said, “do you mind if I take these Mom?”  Umm, Little Man, there are 7 billion more in the kitchen and garage!)  So many lovely gestures!  Just when I think I might drown, I am reminded daily, that love abounds amidst the loss.

In posting this snarly, sarcastic, border-line obnoxious post… I’m working my way back to the living.  Thank you one, and all, for that.

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).

Posted in Awareness, Blog, Christmas, Daily Observations, Death, Death of parent, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world, Parenting, Personal change, Sarcasm, Women's issues, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

2012: Brilliant. Versatile Blogger x 2.

Posted on January 5, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Well, if 2011 was tough, then 2012 it starting out surreally good. There is, of course the grieving… and trust me, that hits in tsunami like waves, over and over right now. But, in this wonderful world of blogging, that I only dove into six short months ago, things are going very, very well indeed. I am sincerely honored that Pamela Zimmer, of Stories of a Mom has also given me the Versatile Blogger Award, for the second time in three days. Vivian Kirkland gave it to me this week as well, and I can’t express enough, what an honor it is to be recognized by other bloggers.  It means a lot folks!

Given recent circumstances, I have not spent a lot of time reading Pam’s blog, but the past 3 posts that I did read were wonderful. I am long past worrying about babysitters or the issues that wear young parents down. I’m already worn and now working my way through the teens and well into the young adult stages of parenting. I’m dealing with kids that stay out all night, who leave their messes all over my previously clean kitchen and say “I’ll get it later mom,” both of us knowing that I will lose it completely if I have to look at that scrambled egg pan and plate all day… Mom will put it in the dishwasher. But, Bloggers like Pamela really put themselves out there so that young mothers can find a place to feel validation, and can feel a sense of tribe. Bravo for that!  I may have lots of reasons to think the internet has taken us away from many important values and rituals (I’ll get to that in a very near future post), but it’s great that there are so many wonderful bloggers out there that provide support for so many others.

I am honored to accept this award again. I am copying the same list I provided in the post just before this one, as I am still too numb and overwhelmed to do justice to the other bloggers who might deserve the recognition. As for the 7 things about me: not much has changed since yesterday… except,

1. I did not sleep well again last night

2. I woke up and cried a storm.

3. I can’t put down The Hunger Games’ 2nd book,  Catching Fire

I still recommend these other bloggers. Please see my previous post for more details.  Thank you again to Pamela Zimmer of Stories of a Mom, for this honor. Check out this post of hers; I think it’s wonderful.

Domestic Simplicity

Me 2.0

Chronicles of a Family Outing

Rita’s Reflections

Swonderland

Dig this Chick

Some Species Eat Their Young

Kathleen Mulroy’s Blog

Of note:  THIS is officially my shortest post… See, I can be brief.  Sort of.

And since this is all about building a network, making my blog more successful and finding new readers, I will now unabashedly, toot my own horn again:

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).


Posted in Blog, Humor, Life, Mothers, Musings, Teens, Women's issues, Wonderful Things, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Tales From The Motherland has been awarded the Versatile Blogger Award!

Posted on January 5, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Happy New Year and something to smile about:  My blog was awarded the Versatile Blogger Award!  I have Vivian Kirkland at Positive Parental Participation to thanks for that. Having checked out some of the other blogs that have won this, I can honestly say I’m humbled to be in such a wonderful group.  Recently, my blog has focused a lot on the later stages of parenting: parenting one’s parents, aging and loss. However, as the mother of three (22, 19, 15) and the “host-mom” to two wonderful exchange students (who I call Denmark, 16; and China 16, in my posts), I spend plenty of time working on strategies to stay sane and get a few laughs along the way. If you check out some of the updates from the “U.N. you’ll see that chaos often rules. My blog is simply about my world and how I see it all go down.

The award rules state: Share 7 things about myself and then pass this on to 15 other noteworthy blogs. I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t follow 15 other blogs, but here are some other blogs that I really enjoy and think you should check out, as well as 7 things I can say about myself (and keep my PG rating):

1.  My mother died of Huntington’s Disease at 4:25 A.M., December 31, 2011.  I’m still processing that and writing about that.  Check out my past 3 posts to read about that.

2. I just submitted my first novel, Tuned In,  to a small publishing house, on December 30th, just hours before my mother died. It was quite a 24 hours! My hopes are not high, but I’m really proud that I did it!

3. I’ve practiced yoga for 15 years, but have not practiced in about a month… NEED. MY. MAT.

4. I am very sarcastic, wry, spontaneous, and I swear too much. These attributes are both charming and terribly annoying, depending on who I’m around.

5. I eat a lot of sushi, cheez-its, hot tamales and ritz crackers, and I would go through serious withdrawl if I was forced to abandon Kool Coffee Creams or Häagen Dazs coffee ice-cream. However, I do healthy things too:  during a trip to India with my (then) 18 year old son, two years ago this April, I gave up caffein.

6. I think waxing anywhere south of my chin is too horrible to consider. I stand by this.

7.  I like to travel alone. This past summer, I ran away to Yellowstone, solo, for two weeks … and I figure it’s something worth doing again. (Some of those posts are damned funny folks, go back and read them… especially if you’ve only read my sadder ones of late.)

So here’s the hard part:  I feel badly, but I don’t actually have 15 blogger to recommend. I know there are so many amazing ones out there, but my life has been so crazy lately that I often find a post I like and then forget to go back. I don’t commit easily, so I don’t “subscribe” easily.  It’s me, not them, because there are lots of fine blogs I should be sharing this with, but I want to be honest here and I don’t want to just add links insincerely.  The ones I’m including here have made me laugh, smile or tear up.  They’ve touched my heart, or just given me food for thought. Please take the time to check them out and see why:

Domestic Simplicity– her photos are simply sublime, but what she has to say is as well.

Me 2.0– Mikalee doesn’t need my recommendation, but this chick makes me LOL… and I hate LOL.

Chronicles of a Family Outing– Poignant, powerful and truly beautiful writing.

Rita’s Reflections– Kindred spirit. Mothering a teen doesn’t get much funnier.

Swonderland– Wow! Amazing writing and a mom I wish I had known when my kids were that age.

Dig this Chick–   Everything she writes about is beautiful and while she does not need my plug, or know that I’m even out here… I love checking out her magical spot on the planet.

Some Species Eat Their Young– I love what this man has to say about his wife, children and life.

Kathleen Mulroy’s Blog– Diverse and interesting, always fun to check out.

Again, I’m sorry I’m not adding more. If you follow my blog and are asking: “Why didn’t she suggest me?”  I’m truly sorry. It’s been a very rough few weeks and it was hard to sit and think clearly here. You know how those Oscar winners always say: “I’m probably forgetting someone?”… well, this is probably as close to my Oscar moment as I’m gonna come and I just wasn’t prepared. I thank the Academy, my family, my mother, God (because everyone else does) and all of my wonderful readers, who make me smile, each time they hit Like!

Posted in Awareness, Blog, Death of parent, Foreign exchange students, Humor, Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

What Comes After? A “Stop, drop and Roll” approach to a New Year.

Posted on January 4, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

There is only one thing for me to write about right now, but I’m not really sure what I think about that. I’m not sure what I feel, yet.  Mainly, because I don’t actually know, what comes after. After years of watching my mother change and then deteriorate. After months of seeing things accelerate faster than we could adjust to or comprehend. After weeks of daily falls, many of which led to hospital visits, bruises, breaks and finally the broken elbow that led to the end.  After nearly three months of Hospice Care in which we knew what was coming, but could never seem to grasp when or how. After, after, after… so many things that I tried to prepare for, but inherently knew I couldn’t be ready for.  Stop, drop and roll. Prepare for a disaster and you hopefully will know what to do, when it comes. Not this time.

My mother died almost four days ago and it is still sinking in. The day she died was by far the most surreal day of my life. If you’ve been following, then you know (from What Doesn’t Kill You… and Peace) that I was sitting with my Mom, holding her hand and trying to ease the very profound fear she seemed to experience, in the thirty minutes leading up to her death. I know that I did, calm her, help her. But in the end, when the room went silent and I felt her finally leave me, I just went a little numb. Ok, maybe a lot numb. And, I’ve stayed like that for four days now… The sounds from that night, those last minutes, play back in my head at odd times. As I lay in my own silent bed at night, I hear that rattled, difficult breaths she took.  As I close my eyes to sleep, I picture how smooth and calm her face was a few hours before she died, and how young she looked again. I see the smile, the very slightest smile, that she made when I told her that I knew she loved me and that I was grateful for her love, and then (right then) watched her take her last breath. But mostly, I just feel outside myself and numb, as all these things, mix with the daily hum, and wash over me… hour by hour.

Friends and family have called. I have spoken to some and not to others. Not playing favorites, but unable to speak, depending on the moment. The gratitude I feel for all the kindness and love that dear friends have shown in these past weeks is overwhelming, an shakes me almost as much as the loss itself. The friends who came to my mother’s room, just to see her and say goodbye. Humbling. The friends who wrapped me in blankets of warm meals, hugs and sweet words.  They were my family, my shelter and I am so very thankful. But now, it is hard to face anyone with ease. It’s hard to think beyond where I am right now. Writing, feeds me and helps me process, but speaking strangles me.

I’ve ventured outside for only two things and both times I felt so exposed. Having come out of the strange cocoon that I was in for four days, I don’t feel like a butterfly. I feel raw and exposed. Part of me wants to say to each person who says: “So, did you have a nice holiday?” or “How are you?”… My mother died, she’s gone!  The part of me that wins stays quiet, smiles and says, “Ok, thanks.”  I know the grief is bubbling to the surface and I know this is normal. This is what happens and it will pass… I believe that, even if I don’t know what comes after that. For now, I am sitting Shiva… alone.  I don’t know how else to do it right now, but I’m listening to myself and doing what I think I need. Solitude. Surrounded by beautiful flowers people have sent, my Christmas tree that still sparkles (despite its dry, sinking branches), and the security of my house for the few hours it is silent. (Thank goodness school started today; thank goodness my husband returns to work; thank goodness for silence.)

The day I left Hospice, I went home, and I wrote the post Peace in my car, in the dark. I didn’t proofread it, or check it; I just hit send and then felt ready to go inside. It was the first “letting go.” I knew that once I left my dark car, and went inside my house, it would all be different.  It was. From the minute I came in, it all just amped up. I had to shower and go directly to a Bat Mitzvah, for a 13 yr old girl who I adore. She is such a sparkle in my life that I would not have missed her big day for almost anything.  My mother had asked us (my sister and I), repeatedly, not to leave her; and the night before she died, I told her:  “at 8:00 A.M. I need to leave you, Mom. to go to M’s Bat Mitzvah. I don’t want to leave you, but I’m at peace with this decision. IF you don’t want me to leave you, you will need to leave me first… before I go at 8.”  Those were my very words. My mom really liked the family whose Bat Mitzvah it was, and I will always believe, that despite her fears, she let go and left me, just in time for me to go and be with them. Call it dreamy, call it whatever; I believe it was a gift.

The Bat Mitzvah was amazing, beautiful, and yet so strange to be in a huge room full of people, when my mind kept going back to the fact that my mother had just died. “It’s been four hours… five… six,” my brain kept registering. Such a shock to hear the Rabbi say her name out loud for Yahrzeit , as having died that morning. The party, after,was a blur: of wonderful people; fun music; silly, delightful 13 yr old girls imitating Justin Bieber and dancing; meaningful conversations with people I care about… bold color, sound and movement. Ten hours, eleven, twelve.

After that I went home for about three hours and knew that if I stopped, I’d pass out. I had slept less than 6 hrs in four full days. I hadn’t even tried that in college, let alone at this age!  My husband had had surgery while I was gone (on him, not him working) and was not really able to provide any support, nor I for him. “In sickness and in health,” bah. I had been surviving mostly on Ritz crackers and Kool Coffee creams (decaf). I hadn’t left the building, except to get something from the car, once.  So, it would have made huge sense, to just get into bed and pass out.

Instead, I had decided to go to a Bikers and Babes New Year’s Eve party that other friends had been pushing for me to attend. I know: what the hell was I thinking?  Well, I was thinking this:  In a 24 hour period, I had “finished” and submitted my novel to a publishing company (the biggest goal I’ve had in many, many years– BRAVO!); I’d sat with my mother as she died; I’d attended and done a reading at a Bat Mitzvah (a very meaningful and important life event for a young girl I love); and now I wanted to just kick the shit out of 2011 and really send it packing. I dressed up like a biker chick, flannel shirt and bra showing (why the hell not, I figured by then) and went out to laugh, dance, wear glow sticks and see 2012 come in. While I did not drink (it might have killed me) and I was slurring my speech from exhaustion; it was so amazing to be with friends and so many crazy ass people, the same day I’d washed my mother’s body and said goodbye to her. How prophetic, I believe, that my Mom did not linger one day more. She died before 2012 could come, and in doing so, she allowed me to walk away from all that this very hard year has symbolized, and be open for a new one. She didn’t drag all of that pain into the New Year, nor did she herself enter one more year with all of that suffering. It was a beautiful thing. I am so grateful to her.

2011 was a wicked bitch of a year. Can’t sugar coat this one folks. It wasn’t all about my Mom, not by a long shot. There were lots of other demons I dealt with and sent packing. It was a lot of struggle with some sublime, life changing experiences as well. Writing my novel and seeing it to completion, brings me so much satisfaction and pride, whatever come of it. Truly. Being in Yellowstone, for two weeks alone, still sustains me and brings tears of sheer joy to my eyes, at moments that just jump up and slap me.  I will always remember those days of finding myself again and knowing that I would, in fact, make it. I am grateful for finding a wise, old friend in Siyo Yona, a wonderful man, who found me on a mountain top, and has stayed beside me since. I will never hear Eddie Vedder sing Society or No Ceiling and not be transported to a place of solitude, clarity and peace.  In my mother’s last few weeks, she too came to love those songs and we listened to them together many times. Music, my life long friend, who never fails me.

I’m going into this New Year with a perspective I’ve never had: total wonder. The world is wide open right now. I am letting go of so many years of holding on. I’m ready to be honest in all things important, wherever that takes me. I’m excited to write, write, and write some more… regardless of whether it gets me anywhere other than where it’s taken me so far. I’m ready to let old pain go and move on to whatever comes next. I feel entitled and free to really reach for what I want, what I need… not just what I think I should do.  There are so many amazing things that have presented themselves that I’m excited to finally explore. I’m so grateful to be free of my mother’s suffering and the suffering I felt in watching her, even as I dread really accepting that she is gone.

I go into a New Year with no regrets in how this all came to an end. The day after my mother died, I told my children this:     “There is one really important lesson I hope you all learn from me. There are ways in which your father and I differ, and this is one of them. I am not always practical, he is. I did not eat well this week; I didn’t sleep for days; I got virtually no exercise for the past many weeks… and I didn’t do this mindlessly. I didn’t do it without thought. But, central to who I am is my belief that there are precious moments in life that we can’t miss. You skip meals, you stay awake, you are present and real. The simple ones are the ones when a good friend, who you rarely see (this will come later in life) is in town for one night, and you stay up until 2, knowing that work will be really tough the next day. You do it to reconnect and share a moment with someone who has meaning in your life. That one is easy. Then there are the hard ones: when you sit with someone you love, when they are dying (or truly suffering) and you let go of your own discomfort.  You might miss some meals, or not get enough sleep, but you are there with them in their most vulnerable moment, and you try to show some grace, some compassion and love.  Perhaps you will do it for me, or someone else who you don’t know yet, but who you will love deeply. You are present and real. There is always time to eat, sleep and get exercise… later.”

I hope my children remember, as they go through life, that this is central to who their mother is and what she believes. Who I am, and who I want to be remembered as. 

For now, I’m stuck in this specific moment, and there are no real short cuts, I think.  Stop, Drop and Roll…  No matter how much or how little warning you have,  no matter how many times we think about the things in life that we need to face, and silently practice who you will face them, they can still just blow you away. All those years of fearing my mother’s death, that I would be an orphan: well here it is. It came in the dark stillness of a hospice room. It came to the sound of Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. It came despite the fact that it terrified me, even as I prayed for it. My mother left me, and now I will begin to live without her, and without all she has meant, for so very long. In the end, it didn’t matter if I visualized it hundreds of times; or if I imagined what I would feel, or do, or think. Stop, drop and roll only takes you so far;  for now, I still feel the burn.

Happy New Year folks, and thanks for sharing the journey… so far.

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).

Posted in Awareness, Beauty, Daily Observations, Death, Death of parent, Dying, Honest observations on many things, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world, Parenting, Personal change, Women's issues, Wonderful Things, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Peace.

Posted on December 31, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

At 4:00 A.M., exactly, the nurse came into my mother’s room, again. I had a barely slept, tossing and turning, listening to Mom. I was dozing when she came in. I was frustrated to be disturbed again. Mom had begun moaning and I was trying to let her struggle, let her rage and just be there. However, they suggested lorazapam to calm her and I said yes. Then, I asked the nurse to leave and not return. I went over to hold Mom’s hand and it had grown cold. Despite her difficult breathing and horrible previous 48 hrs, her hands and feet had stayed so very hot. Burning up. Suddenly they were cold. She was now breathing quickly, moaning and staring off.

I pulled my computer over and put on one of her favorite songs: My Heart Will Go On. She and my daughter watched Titanic many times together, and the song always held meaning. It came out just when my grandmother, Mom’s mother, died and we all felt it was so lovely. Of course, over time it was over played and made silly at times, but in Mom’s dark room, holding her hand, it was beautiful. I felt my daughter there too, in the memory. I played Can You Feel the Love Tonight. And I kept holding her hand. I told her I was there, that it was ok to leave me, over and over. I said some of the very things she’d hated before:  “It will all be ok,” “We love you,” “K and I are here,” “Mea and Doby (her beloved pugs) are waiting for you, they’re going to lick your face over and over,” “Grandma and Bubbie are there, to hold you,” and, her breath began to slow; she stopped moaning.

I pulled up a picture of my sister’s dog, Lottie, who Mom loved and held the picture where she could conceivably see it. She was staring off, but I held it up none the less. I told her that I love her, that my sister and brother love her, that we all love her, and that I know she loves me. She smiled. Her mouth clearly turned up and she smiled, faintly. Her breathing grew slower and slower and I kept one hand on her heart and the other holding her hand, debating when to go wake my sister. As I got up, I sensed that I was feeling her last breath, and I walked to the other room to get my sister. When we got back to the bed, she was gone. She was so very still, her eyes still open.

My sister and I got into bed with her, as we have for weeks and weeks and we held her. We cried and held each other, but we held our mother hardest. We laid with her until we were done crying. Then, we sat on the bench beside her bed for a while… talking and thinking, sharing our thoughts, until we were ready to open the door and tell the staff.

Once we did, they called the funeral home and then brought in a bowl of lavender water. I put some special lavender oil in the water, that I’d been rubbing on her for weeks, that she liked. And then, two of the staff and I bathed her body. I washed her whole, small body down and removed the Angel necklace that I’d put on her 48 hrs ago. It was given to me by my aunts, out of love… something we each have and put on whenever one of us in the circle is in need. My aunts have all worn their angels for us this week, but I wanted my Mom to wear mine. I took it off her and back around my own neck.

When they came to take her, they covered her in the quilt that she got when she arrived. At the door, they stopped and we surrounded her small body. My sister and I held hands, my sister crying, I held her tightly, and reached a hand to touch our mother’s chest one last time.  As I stood with one hand on my mother, and my other hand holding my sister’s, they rang a bell three times, slowly. We each touched Mom; I kissed her one last time and they took her away. I immediately wrote her name and a heart on a slip of paper, placed it in the Chris Moench prayer wheel, near the entrance and gave it a good spin.

I gathered my things and left Hospice House. It felt so strange to finally walk out. There in the parking lot, a thick layer of ice covered my entire car and it sparkled like a million diamonds. It was incredibly beautiful. When I turned my car on, Norah Jones’ Don’t Know Why was playing. The lyrics to that song were on the first page of my manuscript, in it’s original version. I believe in symbols, in signs, in mystery… the diamonds, the 4:00 wake up (the exact time they called two days earlier), the song, they mean something to me. I drove home, but I wanted to sit here in my car, just a little longer. I put on Peter Gabriel’s I Grieve, watching the beautiful Christmas lights on my house, and  “Missing what’s gone… life carries on…. Love carries on.” Thank you Peter for singing to me again, on this morning when my mother is finally at Peace.

Posted in Awareness, Beauty, Blog, Death, Death of parent, Dying, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 38 Comments

What Doesn’t Kill You… Just Beats the Shit Out of You.

Posted on December 30, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

<— The small Christmas tree that I brought to Mom’s room, covered in ornaments that I’ve had forever. Many of them, she bought for me when I had my first tree.

More than one person has said to me recently: “What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.”  Well perhaps, but it sure beats the shit out of you. Am I stronger? No doubt. I’ve changed in ways I never dreamed over these past couple of months. This past year, in fact, has left me an entirely different person on so many levels. Right now, I feel stronger than ever and broken down, all at once. My entire body feels battered, my eyes hurt from being open for so long… from crying, from dim lighting in a small room, that I’ve been sitting in for 42+ hours now, as I listen to my mother die.

It has been such a very long road to this place in time, but it’s funny how the expected can be so unexpected and difficult anyway. When the phone rang, at 4:00 A.M. two days ago, I certainly knew what it probably was. My hands shook as I dialed the Hospice House back. Stumbling from my room, I’d missed the call. The nurse picked up right away.  “Dawn, your mother’s respirations have dropped to 4-5. We believe she is slipping away.”  To be honest, I had no idea what that meant, the first part.  Those numbers meant nothing, but the message was clear otherwise.  I stumbled back to my bedroom to put clothes on and tell my husband what was happening.

Let me back up.  My mom has been at Hospice House for two and a half months now. When she was moved here in October, we thought her death was imminent. It was shocking to us all. She has suffered from the symptoms of Huntington’s Disease for twelve years now, slowly, horribly disappearing, in bits and pieces: Memory by memory, personality trait by personality trait, mannerism by mannerism.  She has slipped from me in small enough pieces that one day when she was suddenly so different from the mother I’d known and understood, danced and fought with: loved, I was lost.  I was angry and bitter that we had not been given that time in our lives when we could rectify the things we’d raged against when I was too young to understand some things, and the things I felt she needed to apologize for. I wanted to work those things through: face them head on and then work it all out to a healthy conclusion.

Suddenly, my mother wasn’t that person. Her mood swings, her anger, her crazy decisions, were all a big question mark. Was it Huntington’s or was it her? How could I hold her accountable for things she might have no control over? Then also, how could we reliably work through all those things I wanted resolved? As the months and then years slipped by, I had to let that neatly packaged dream go. And let me tell you, I resented it. I resented her: for being sick, for stealing my moment of standing up to her, I resented knowing that she would leave me with so much unresolved stuff.  Letting go of all that came first. That took a long time, a very long time. It was an internal struggle that took so much out of me, that some days I really questioned whether I’d survive it.  Then, I had to accept that my mother would continue to decline and I would continue to lose her, in bits and pieces, until this disease killed her.

<– The plant she tended and loved for years, with a photo of my grandparents, that sits near Mom’s bed.

And so here I sit, in her room, listening to her struggle to breath. Each shallow, short breath fills this room with the sound, though her chest barely moves. Her body has grown still and she’s just holding on to something that is beyond any of us, certainly beyond me. But what is most amazing, is that she is still there. The things that were such a part of my mother are still fighting to be acknowledged:  her tenacity, her strength, her independence and fire… all of that has continued to come forth, as she refuses liquids or the efforts of nurses to swab her mouth: clenching her jaw and scowling each time.  “Many of her movements are probably reflexes at this point,” a nurse tells us. I don’t believe her. I can see my mother, in her eyes. I tell her to blink, to let us know what she wants, so that we can do it her way. She proves me right, blinking to let us know that she doesn’t want my sister or I to leave her alone here. “Many mothers just can’t leave, with their children in the room,” the nurses tell us. But when we tell her we are going to leave, she clenches my hand. When my sister says: “Do you want us to stay with you Mom?” She blinks twice, strongly, undeniably.  When I say:  “How about if we promise to not climb into bed with you, at the same time anymore?” She wrinkles her forehead and gives us the wryest of smiles: my mother’s smile. When the wrong song comes on Pandora, she scowls again and we change the station.  She has continued to tell us what she wants, or what she doesn’t want, even as she is barely there. “Ok Mom, we’ll stay. We won’t leave you; but then you’ll have to leave us instead.”

After eight weeks of visiting every single day, I had not visited in two days because we’d had the flu in our house and while I hadn’t gotten it, I was wiped out. I’d been up the entire night before, with my sick husband. I’d taken him to the hospital that morning and stayed the entire day. I’d gone to bed at 1:20 A.M. trying to work on my novel, that had to be submitted to a publisher by December 30th, in the very long hope of seeing it published. I was exhausted and worn down when the call came only two and a half hours later.  When I hung up,  I was gripped with such a fear, that I sat on the stairs for a minute, and then panicked:  that that would be the minute that she died and I would have missed it. My mind raced as I drove off in the dark alone, speeding on my quiet street for the first time. I slipped through a red light, unwilling to let that few seconds be the ones I missed. Dashing in the door when I arrived, her breaths were so shallow, so strained. Her face was so sunken and pale. I called my sister (an hour+ away) sure that she would not make it in time.

Now, I have been in this room for 42 hours and counting… breath by breath.  I am paralyzed, afraid to leave. I stepped outside late today and realized I hadn’t felt fresh air in nearly two days. My body aches from sitting on a lousy bench, where I barely slept for less than three hours last night. Both my sister and I know that we’re not making sense anymore. We know that we’re loopy and emotional. “Are you taking care of yourself?” Everyone asks that. Of course not, that seems impossible right now. My daughter drops by to deliver antibiotics for my sinus infection, some clean jeans and underwear (I’ll wear this same black shirt for three days it seems), and sandwiches that she thoughtfully made for us. “Mom, you really need to take care of yourself.”  I know she’s right, but I tell her what I’ve always believed: “Honey, there are some things in life that are too important to be reasonable. There are once in a lifetime moments, when you do whatever you have to do. The easy ones are when a dear friend is in town for one night and you stay up way too late, and feel bad at work the next day. The hard ones are losing your mother, losing anyone you love.  I know that this moment will only come once, but there will be many more chances to sleep right, eat right and get some exercise, later. I love you for caring, but I hope you learn this from me, now.”

I’ve moved from the bench, to her bedside holding her hand, to lying beside her in her bed, or walking down to the “sanctuary” to have some quiet and privacy, to call friends and family, countless times now. I am so far beyond tired or  “off” from weird food (too many Ritz crackers, too little fluids) and this strange, strange place we are living right now, waiting for her to die.  I lay awake all night last night, listening to her breaths. In the long gaps, when she didn’t inhale, I counted silently and thought: That was it, the last one. And then, she inhales again and I start over. Counting dark sheep.

As I gaze into her eyes, sometimes she gazes back and I wish desperately to know what she is really thinking. I say my guesses out loud: “Don’t be scared; you’ll be ok; just let go Mom” and she frowns. I say: “I still can’t read your mind,” and she smiles, faintly now. In the past six hours, the facial movements have become much more limited. She raises an eyebrow subtly or flinches, blinks less clearly.  As I look at her eyes become milky, I believe that she is seeing things we can’t see. Maybe she is still reliving early memories (read Oh Holy Craziness… Night), but I feel as if she is glimpsing something beyond here. She makes subtle gestures as if responding to things I can’t see or understand. Has she already seen death? Is it scary or the infinite mystery so many have imagined? Is there light and goodness, or something else? “Mom, can you hear me? I’m here.” Blink.

I will spend another night here, counting her breaths, until they stop.  I’ve debated over and over whether to just go home, get some rest and join the living for a little while. But I just can’t. I step out to my car to get something and I feel her hand squeezing mine, I can see her eyes blink: “Stay, please stay.”  As both my sister and I have questioned what is right, what we should do, we’ve come to agree that Mom seems to be keeping us here. My sister and I have shared more honesty, and honestly, in the past 42 hours in this room, than we have in our life. My mother, no doubt hears that and is blinking. She gets that last word, silently, as my sister and I hold hands over her heart.

I continue to write, on my corner bench, pouring my thoughts into the revisions that my novel needed. It will either be better, or worse because I was so tired, so raw, but I finished it today and submitted the manuscript to a publishing house in Massachusetts that was open to unpublished, women writers, until December 31st.  It’s taken so much out of me in these past few months, balancing it all.  Would I do it again… that may take some time, some distance, to see a different perspective and know if it was all worth it.  Right now, I can’t be anywhere else, until the room becomes quiet, and I feel the void that I’ve been facing for so very long. I’m diving head first into that dark void, and I hope the answer later will be: “ Yes, it was worth every sore muscle, every tear and every long moment in this room.” I hate to close my eyes, hate to miss a moment, but I know I must sleep. I pray for silence when I wake, a terrible prayer but one I hope for none the less. Safe journey Mom; I am here.

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).

Posted in Awareness, Daily Observations, Death, Death of parent, Dying, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world, Parenting, Personal change, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Oh Holy Craziness…Night.

Posted on December 26, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

‘Tis the season… THE season of: cheer, chaos, frenzy, delight, amusement, let-downs, build-ups, joy, remembrances, longing, friends, family, lines and Chinese zaniness. Ok, perhaps not everyone has the last one, but it’s likely you’ve each experienced most of the others this Season. It’s not the winter season I refer to, of course, but “The Holiday Season.”  In our house, that means Hanukkah (which started last Tuesday) and Christmas, which is still in progress. Call it Chrismukkah, call us double dippers, but however you slice it, it’s double all of the above in our house.  Preparing for two big holidays, cooking for two big holidays, decorating for and buying presents for two big holidays, every year it has been one long reign of insanity.  Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights, comes at a different time each year, as the Jewish holidays are based on the lunar calendar.  It can come as early as late November and start as late as it did this year: December 20th.  I’ve got to give Christmas a bonus point for at least falling on the exact same day each year. There are no surprises there; I know when the storm will hit.  However, each year I have to remind myself to check on Hanukkah… see when it will spring on me.  This year Christmas fell smack in the middle of Hanukkah, and that folks has been quite a wild ride.

A very full two days, of a very long eight days is finally at a close and Christmas is coming to an end this year. The house is quiet and here I sit in that annual stupor that falls on me when all the weeks of preparation and thought are at an end, (or in this case the final last two days) and I feel like I’ve just been through a tornado.  A crazy happy tornado, but a spin none the less. We have all opened our Christmas presents, as we ate our annual almond torte for Christmas breakfast (prepared each year by dear friends and always highly anticipated). I have seen which of the gifts (that I agonized over) were a hit and which were “I can’t believe you thought I would like this” gifts. The honey ham dinner has been served; and we’ve visited Mom.  The guests are gone, and the house is quiet. Luckily for me, there is a melt down respite stage in all these festivities when I can slip off to this quiet corner and type my thoughts. Writing it down, putting it out in this blog, clears my head. Ahhh, sweet relief;  yet such a dilemma: I’m exhausted; go to bed, or write?  Writing wins out again.

Christmas Eve day I spent a few hours with my Mom. Tough. That was just plain old tough. She is very frail now, fed up with it all, refusing meds, sad and angry all at once. It’s hard to sit with her now. The Hospice nurses are so wonderful and the place so peaceful, but it is getting harder and harder to go each day.  Mom now drifts in and out:  she’s impossible to understand sometimes as she tries to tell us what she needs, and crystal clear and bitterly harsh when she scolds: “Oh D, just stop it!”  I was telling her about who had called to send her their best wishes and the few who had sent her cards for Christmas, and she suddenly said it: “Oh D, just stop it!”  It stopped me cold, chilled me through. She said it so totally clearly, and so bitterly. “What? Stop what Mom?” I asked… like a fourteen year old who had just been caught doing something. I was right back there, in trouble with my Mom and already trying to figure out how to get out of it.  “Stop telling me who cares about me. I haven’t heard from any of them in years. I’ve been sick for so long and haven’t heard a word, or gotten a card in all that time. I don’t want to hear it now.  Where were they when I was… alive?”  Ouch, but real. Bitter and real. It stung; it hurt to hear; I felt defensive; but I knew it was true.

I pass on others’ well wishes and I too feel torn at times. Why now? Why not the wishes when she could appreciate them and was feeling so alone all the time?  Yet, how do I turn them away? Do I edit them or leave them out all together?  Yesterday she finally told me: enough.  For weeks I have sat in that room with her and she has come in and out of phases of accepting this final stage of her life.  It has been days of warm memories, lucid moments as well as days when nothing she says makes sense… to me. It does to her and the older memories are so clear and real that she will speak in child’s voice and tell me about the time she and a friend found money on the sidewalk and hid it in Hartford, CT.  Where Mom? Where is that money!  (I have to laugh, I have to joke… or I’d cry). Then she told me about missing my father, something I have not heard her mention in thirty+ years. Now, she seems bitter and frustrated, with it all. She wants me there; she wants to be left alone. She is sick of the pills: pills for pain, pills for infection, pills to go to the bathroom, more pills for pain, pills for depression (hmm, guess it’s depressing to die of a terrible disease and they figure a pill can help with that?), pills for anxiety (insert anxiety in the previous observation), pills, pills, pills… ground in apple sauce (a teaspoon, because she doesn’t want food) or served with her Coke. Bitter pills to swallow.

This final stage is the hardest for me her. She resents any of us telling her that it’s ok to let go and leave us, but she equally resents that she’s still here. She is so small now and frail, yet when she said “Oh D, just stop it!” she was my mother again, telling me to knock it off. She was life size and alive.  Two weeks ago, she told me she regretted that she’d miss Christmas with us and couldn’t buy gifts. So, I brought in catalogues and she hand-picked a gift for several people she loves. She made me promise to pay with her money, so they would really be from her.  Then, she asked me to go buy Christmas cards for her: “Not the ones you would pick out, but the ones I would.” Pure Mom. She knows I hate picking out cards, but she always loved it.

She had her own justifications for what she wanted for each person and didn’t want my advice. When you are lying in a bed dying and others do everything for you, this was something she could and wanted to do all on her own.  So I ordered the gifts and I bought the cards. She was able to sign two, and a birthday card for my brother (Dec.27th). Her writing is frail and thin, but it’s on those pages, the last words she will likely ever write:  “your grammy,”  “your mom.”  I wrapped and handed out her gifts this morning, explaining to everyone all just how this had happened: that their grandmother and mother had done this herself.  Opening her gifts, watching each person’s faces as they saw her final message, her final gift to them: That was Christmas, right there. The real thing Charlie brown!  Beautiful, meaningful, tender and lovely.

<— Don’t adjust your dials. That hat is for real and that red is red!

There were also very funny moments Christmas Eve and Christmas day as we all shared our memories and Denmark and China shared their own missing traditions. China does not celebrate Christmas, so this was his first and a first Hanukkah for both of them. China likes Christmas. He likes Hanukkah. Clearly, he likes presents!  His parents sent Hubby and I red, silky jackets… but Chinese women are much smaller than me and this jacket will be worn open, because those buttons are never going to meet. China gave Little Man/US a really cool scarf from China and this wild (and there is no real word that describes this) hat… We all informed Little Man that it may not be the right thing to wear to his high school. In fact, maybe you can only wear this hat in China! China exclaimed to us: “My gifts to you are all made in China.”  We all looked at each other, laughed and I answered: “Most of the gifts under this tree were made in China!”

The other hilarious moment came when my sister presented me with her gift. Let’s just say that she’s been known to give me some “different” gifts. So, when I opened this box… well, I really didn’t know what to say. I tried for all the fake genuine faces I could manage, but there was just no getting around it:  I was stunned. Then, I realized that she was giggling. Giggling at me, not with me. That’s when I realized that the box was a ruse… a sweater was inside. The sweater is beautiful, but this box is a keeper!  —->

Christmas Eve, Principessa planned an amazing gift for me with her BFF and my other daughter… we’ll call her Gorgeous Scandinavian Girl (GSG) here, because she is. She and Principessa have been soul mates for years, and in the summer or when they were in high school, GSG is here all the time. She arrived promptly at 8:30 with her guitar. We had two other families here eating a huge prime rib dinner and we all went to the living room, where my daughter sang me THE most beautiful, stirring, meaningful song, as a room full of 17 people watched me tear up and weep. In my defense, two of the men in the room got teary as well. It was exquisite!  The song, Oh My Mama, is so meaningful and GSG played perfect guitar, and sang back ground. Principessa then sang the 23rd Psalm, in Hebrew, as we all sat around in awe. It was amazing. My girl can sing.

We were blessed this year, for the first time in (too) many years, with a little one. A gorgeous little girl who still believes in Santa and made us all laugh and smile all night long. I featured her in my post about the Farmer’s Market (A Fresh, Fresh Glow), because this lovely little girl is just a bolt of yummy sweetness in my life. Any time she is in the room, I can’t help but smile. Christmas Eve, she followed me around all night, helping me; making me smile; examining all the ornaments on my tree and sticking beside her best buddy Luke… who patiently wore the reindeer antlers that I gave her as a  gift. He reminded us of the faithful dog Max in The Grinch, sitting beside his own Cindy Lou Who. Way too cute.

So now we have two more nights of Hanukkah, including our annual Hanukkah party. I will cook huge numbers of latkes, and we will sing our last night of prayers as we light our menorah. We’ll exchange our final gifts and do one more huge batch of dishes.  New Year’s Eve will be extra meaningful this year as we attend a much loved friend’s Bat Mitzvah and then figure out how to celebrate quietly this year. I’m ready for some quiet. Then, The Holiday Season will come to a close for me. The boy scouts will come collect our beautiful tree, as they do each year just after New Years. The decorations will be put away until next year. The gifts that weren’t a hit will be returned and the others put away. Three of the five kids at home right now will return to school and I will get some of my solitude back.  It’s not that I’m counting down and wanting it all to end… but it’s not exactly like I’m not either.  (Our electric menorah… blazing all night–>)

Balancing it all this year, against the backdrop of losing my mother… Slowly, unbearably slowly, has been so much harder than I could have anticipated. None of this, frankly has been what I anticipated and as I count down the days, waiting and guessing, trying to keep our lives going on as normally as possible, I know that the shoe will fall and she will be gone. Then, there will be a huge vacuum where all of this anticipation and energy has gone, for months now.  This year, knowing that, I was that much more grateful for the funny moments, the sweet moments, the ones with meaning, but right now, I will be grateful for some very quiet moments to really take it all in and then… let it go.

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).

Posted in Beauty, Blog, Christmas, Daily Observations, Death of parent, Dying, Hanukkah, Holidays, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world, Parenting, Personal change, Sarcasm, Teens, The U.N., Wonderful Things, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The Middle… The U.N. Full Assembly

Posted on December 21, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

For new readers:  This year we took in two foreign exchange students, known here as China (16, boy) and Denmark (16, girl), making our home the U.N. for ten months.  Our youngest son, Little Man (15), represents the U.S.  Our middle son, Middle Man (19, soph. in college) attended high school in Canada and so represents Canada.  Our eldest daughter, Principessa (22, a Sr in college) spent 1.5 yrs in Israel, so represents her spiritual home, Israel, at the U.N.  As head of this multi-National group, and the writer of this blog, I am the Secretary General. I try my best to rule with a fair and steady hand and to find humor whenever possible. There’s plenty of it… but some days, well…

Things at the U.N. have chugged along at warp speed as all Nations have returned to the table for the holiday break.  Frankly, the term “break” is ridiculous. Obviously it is a trial of wills for parents all over and a break only for the kids who are out of school. Israel, Canada, U.S., China and Denmark are all home for the holidays and issues continue to be generated and resolved in ways that cause all kinds of outcomes.

Meals at the U.N. are a pain in the ass interesting: China dislikes cheese and likes everything as spicy as possible; he hates salad.  Denmark hates cheese (go figure!) but eats anything else.  U.S. hates all cheese but fake, processed slices; and is the most picky eater. No tomatoes or potatoes either: except fries and ketchup, or tomato sauce.  Huh? Canada is a vegetarian. Israel is gluten free, and keeps kosher.  It is a daily challenge for the Secretary General, who makes all* meals for the group.  *Israel makes all of her own food in order to make sure it remains kosher.  The Secretary General continue to maintain that one can live on Cheez-Its… especially when she can play word games with them as she eats them.

With so many Nations involved, faithful dog Luke just crosses his legs and hopes that someone will walk him, feed him or pour water in his dish. These things are complicated with more hands to help, contribute around. Sitting around. Sitting on their hands, apparently.

<— Sweet, sweet Luke. Ten years old and still putting up with this stuff!

While Israel has always enjoyed favored relations with the Secretary General, situations in the Middle East have been volatile at best, in the past year. Both sides continue to work toward resolutions, but despite best efforts, conflicts continue. The U.N hopes to see Peace in the region soon. Both sides are making efforts.

Predictable fronts have moved in from Canada. Warm flows follow cold spells, and despite its desire to be seen as neutral and easy, Canada remains an enigma, known more for its shifts than anything else.

Relations between China and the US have hit some rough patches of late. Denmark has made multiple attempts at conflict resolution, but has fallen upon saying: “Just stop it!” All conflicts are  ridiculous minor, but two super powers were bound to hit some stalemates.

Conflicts over how to gain world dominance have put relations at Risk at times. While Denmark’s tendency to laugh at US  folly, brought a complete stand-off at one point, China and Denmark agree that U.S. does not handle Risky matters well.  It’s been determined, that for now:  Nations are better able to deal with Monopolys than Risk further break downs in relations.

All Nations were present for the first night of Hanukkah: celebrated on the village green and then at the public library. This was followed by a dinner out at an Asian restaurant that all but Israel could agree on. Afterwards, candles were lit at home and the Secretary General gave each Nation a book, that suited their individual preferences. It was a festive evening all around and while some would not wear the glowing menorah necklaces that were handed out, general good cheer was shared around the globe.

Decorating the tree was a first for China, who immediately noticed the chili ornaments and placed them prominently on the tree. This has traditionally been Canada’s roll (his favorite ornaments), but Canada was of course gracious. No worries, eh.

Denmark felt compelled to point out frequently, that she was surprised that Americans don’t put real, lit candles on their Christmas trees. This brought a lot of response from U.S., Israel and Canada. Canada: “We generally avoid putting fire on a dead tree.”  Israel:  “Are there a lot of reports of home fires, from trees catching on fire over the holidays?” Denmark: “Well, there are some. Once my grandmother’s clothes caught fire…”  Canada: “Don’t mind Grandma’s flaming shirt;  the tree looked really pretty!”   Denmark has had some trouble defending this particular cultural tradition.

Denmark and Secretary General delivered nearly $8500 (market value, we’re told) worth of baby food that we got in a major scoop this week, at a Market going out of Business (See Countdown to Holiday Spirit…). All of the food went to a domestic violence women’s shelter and the Food Bank, in town. Denmark and Sec. Gen.  made fools of themselves doing a Happy Dance every chance they got.

China and U.S. are sharing a room while Canada is at the Assembly. Contrary to world news, China’s environmental policies are much cleaner than U.S. Outcome remains to be seen.

Hubby returned safe and bearded from Chile. Hmm, perhaps Chile is the newest nation?  Chile garnered chilly responses from the Secretary General for sharing too many thoughts on how things should be done… better. That’s Madame Secretary General to you, Chile.

U.N. support for Canada was unanimous regarding this car at the movie theater. Having expressed some anti-Canada sentiments in my Oh Canada post, I can see how someone might park this vehicle at say Costco. This seemed extreme to all Nations.  I only went so far as to sing some South Park tunes… This crosses a line. Way to make the U.S. look bad Mr. Supersize-gas guzzling-weapon bearing-making up for a small penis-not even parked properly in the parking spot- driver!

Debates continue on how to pronounce words/names (CH: Krara DK: KLarreh CH: Krlara, etc); holiday traditions are being challenged, compared and shared; Israel and Canada are by far messier than other nations (there, I said it); the Secretary General is close to the Edge (just worth repeating to share this link again); Hanukkah is well underway and Christmas just around the corner. We will have spiral ham and latkes on Christmas day…. and that just about sums up the lunacy at the U.N.

 

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but this is serious business).

Posted in Blog, Christmas, Daily Observations, Hanukkah, High School, Holidays, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Mothers, Musings, My world, Parenting, Sarcasm, Teens, The U.N., Women's issues | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Countdown to Holiday Spirit: Oh Baby, Call Me Ho, Ho, Ho!

Posted on December 17, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Spoiler alert:  Family members– Do not read this post until after Christmas. Or, do not read the last paragraph. I can’t stop you of course, but I for one still believe in Santa, and I think you’d rather be surprised. Just wait.

Yesterday, as I drove my 16-year-old exchange student, Denmark (as she’s known here), to run some errands, she said something that many of us do about this time of year:  “People always say that this is a happy time of year; that we should all be in the Christmas spirit; but it seems like everyone is totally stressed out, rushing around and just buying things like crazy… no one seems all that happy.” Wow. I was struck by how familiar that was, but how mournful it sounded coming from my usually über cheerful Danish daughter. “I think people just lose sight of so much this time each year, myself included. Some year I think we should all agree not to buy a single gift for each other, and only give to others who need them.” I replied. “However, I can’t deny that I would miss my presents!” I added. We laughed, but I felt a twinge of that same guilt I often feel when I think of all the good fortune our family enjoys.

<— Mom resting, after talking about Christmas memories.  I told her I would use this photo.

We had set out on our mission, to mostly do good. My Mom, who many of you know is in Hospice, had told me that she was sad that she couldn’t buy cards as she always has. I am not really a card person, they rarely say what I really want to say and I tend to get caught up on some silly turn of a phrase or wording that doesn’t exactly match my thoughts. My mother however has always loved giving cards. This past week has been especially hard for her. She has been raging against her death, she has been sad and withdrawn about the holidays. I visit her every single day, usually for about 4+ hours, but when I have to leave it’s awful. She feels lonely when I’m not there and often becomes angry and withdrawn as I prepare to leave. It’s been very difficult… and especially over the holidays. This will be the first year that she will not be with us, when she is just two miles away, because it’s just too challenging to bring her home.  Of course we’ll visit her on Christmas, but it won’t be the same when she isn’t there to open gift with us.

So, Goal one: I had challenged myself to go buy cards for her and really think about what she would pick out. Goal two came from a friend. My buddy Melissa K, had posted an amazing idea on her Facebook page about helping the homeless and less fortunate in our community. She bagged up simple supplies and treats and then handed them out randomly to folks on the street (the folks standing with signs at the end of exits and at stop lights) who needed them. I was so touched by the idea, I thought it would be a really cool thing to do with my kids this year. The entire U.N. will be in session by Monday night, and we could go out and hand them out the week of Christmas and Hanukkah (we are Double Dippers, to borrow a friend’s term). I bought 10 simple bags and stickers to decorate the bags. For each bag, Denmark and I bought mittens, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, granola bars, some chocolates, and gift cards to Starbucks. We plan to put some cookies in there too. I took her to the Dollar store in town, to make the most of our money and be able to get some extra things.

We also did plenty of shopping for our own family and friends, but the main goal was to take care of these two do good  missions.  By the time we left the last store, where we’d done mostly our own shopping, we were both fried and were dying to get home and just plop down on the sofa. However on the way, I got a text from Middle Man, who just arrived home the day before, letting me know we are out of cream cheese and could I please pick some up.  Ugh. As we exited the highway, I saw the big sign at The Market at Fairhaven, which has been in the process of closing for weeks. Each day the signs had become bigger and more dramatic:  “5 Days left!! up to 70% off”.  They had people on every conceivable corner in town, dancing with their signs. You know the ones:  They have earplugs in, are holding some big ass sign about a sale and doing a crazy dance? Every corner.  I had been vowing to drop in for weeks.  Yesterday however the sign said “1 Day Left!! up to 90% OFF”.  I was dying of curiosity. What could they possibly have left? Could we possibly score some cereal and detergent for 90% off and get the cream cheese too?

What a shocking sight.  The store was almost empty… a huge warehouse of empty. How strange it was to see a Market that I have enjoyed and used, so barren. Denmark and I walked each aisle anyway, determined to see what was there. We bought polenta in aisle three, just because it was in Italian and only $1.50.  We ran into another friend, K, in the next aisle, just as I said: “Looks like Paula Deen can’t be given away.”  On naked shelves, there was a lot of Paul Deen. My friend and I confided that we felt like vultures… picking the bones of a business we felt badly for.  The owners are good people and the circumstances of the closing were a bummer. It did feel odd. Toward the end of the store, I scored three boxes of Frosted Flakes. I never buy them, but Little Man loves them. They were under a dollar, how could I say no?

Then on the third to last aisle, we found something very strange. Shelves and shelves of baby food. K and I joked that if the diapers were bigger, we might be able to use them in a few years. We wondered aloud what would happen with so much baby food? Would they donate it? Would it be worth buying some and donating it. At the 70% mark down it was at, it would still be pretty pricey. We parted ways, at baby food and met up at the register. She had to pick up her son and I still didn’t have cream cheese. We were both tired, and I dreaded going to the other store I now had to hit. I asked the check out gal, “Gus,” what they would do with all that baby food, but she was evasive. “They will sell every bit of it.” She told us this with absolute certainty.”There is no way,” I argued. “There are tons of it there and you close in less than an hour.” She was certain. She told me that it would all be gone.

I was this close to leaving: __  <— That close.  Then a person of authority came out to make another loud, “Last chance” announcement and I went over to speak with him. “What do you plan to do with all the baby food that’s left?” I asked.  He looked puzzled. “Will you donate it?” No. They would not. There seemed to be some glitch, donation was not possible. “What if I want to buy it to donate, what kind of deal will you give me?”  “Well, if you come back in 45 minutes, we’ll probably have a fill your cart deal.”  I slumped. There was NO way I was leaving and coming back. I was exhausted. Denmark was exhausted; and we still had to buy cream cheese. “Come on,” I pleaded, “It’s for a good cause. Do I look like I have babies at home? Can’t you give me the deal right now?”  The fact that he agreed makes him a very nice man and confirms that I looked tired and old… and unable to have babies! Did he not consider that I might have grandchildren? I digress…

“We inventoried the baby food last night and there is nearly $800 worth left, with the discount” he informed us. “Sure, but in an hour it’s worth nothing. I want to donate it; I don’t want to come back because I’m exhausted and I still have to make dinner for four teenagers, cut me a break pleeeease.” I was this close: _  <– (shorter than previous) of throwing in the Mother in Hospice detail, to seal the deal. I wanted that baby food bad.  “Ok, put what you can in ONE cart and I’ll give it to you for $25. Don’t tell anyone else right now.” he relented. “That does not include the Pedialyte or formula. That stuff is worth a lot more!”  Now, let me tell you something: I am a die hard bargain shopper. I am crazy as a loon in general and if you challenge me to almost anything, I am going to beat you at your own game. Period. I do not pass on a dare. There’s a friend out there that still owes me a mud wrestle.

We closed up the seat on the cart to make more room in the actual grocery section of the cart; we stared at the three full shelves of baby food and we methodically began to pile it like a baby food Tetris challenge. Boxes of Rice cereal between jars and plastic cups of Peaches, Fresh Peas; we were determined to get every single item we could into that cart. An employee who didn’t know what was happening watched us with amusement. Then, he brought a second cart and asked what we were up to. We’d promised not to anyone about our deal, so we told him in giggles that we were donating it all, but couldn’t say anymore. He put his hands on our pile and said: “I want to touch this for Karma sake. Wow.” I can not possibly express here the excitement we both felt. I felt like we were on one of those game shows where you get ten minutes to fill a cart with the best things you can buy… only all we wanted was baby food… and as much as we could possibly get.

I actually started to feel a little guilty: they store was closing, not for reasons that anyone wanted. They were being kind to let me do this and here we were piling things precariously high, to get the most out of $25.  It would have been a deal with the first layer of food we piled in there… I then I also started to think about all that Pedialyte and Formula. Wouldn’t that be very helpful too? I looked at what was left on the shelves and resolved to get the rest. Well… all except the Gerber Meat Sticks. Excuse me while I rant here:  Ick! Yuck! Gross!  AND, aren’t hot dogs a major choking hazard anyway? Let alone packaged as little “sticks” that babies can hold and shove in their wind pipes? I’m sorry, but good cause or not, I could not bring myself to take the Meat Sticks, even free. We left about ten jars of Meat Sticks on the now empty shelf.

Denmark ran to get another cart and I went up to talk to the Big Man again about another deal. I told him that it was even closer to closing and that all that Pedialyte and Formula would help an awful lot of babies. Hungry Babies. Is there anything more guilt inducing? (Besides a dying mother? I clearly had a Royal Flush) They reminded me that the formula was “$16.99 before the discount, that there was at least $400 of inventory left, after the discount.” I offered them $100 for both carts and everyone looked happy. For the record, the first manager was willing to part with the second cart for $25 also, but I felt a little too much like screwing one guy to help another. However you slice it, we had thousands of dollars worth of baby food (real market value) for $100. The two-packs that we got hundreds of sell for $6.99 each usually. It would be very difficult to really tally the value, but discounted it all would have sold for approximately $1400, at the 70% off. I’d say this goes down as the biggest score ever of my illustrious discount buying career. Oh if only I could have photographed the faces of the other people in the check out line, as we walked out with our ginormous baby food carts.

The back of my son's Subaru, packed to the gills

The back of my son’s Subaru, packed to the gills

As we piled the final items in our carts, it occurred to me that there was no conceivable way of fitting it all in my car, which was already filled with shopping bags. I called Middle Man, just home from college, and asked if he could come over and help out. His Subaru was packed: trunk and backseat. I told him that it might be a real plus to girls, if he drove around with the stuff for a few days and told them he was taking it to Women’s Shelters… Ok, tasteless, but I was having so much fun with all this that I was truly giddy. Punch drunk. Dancing in the parking lot giddy. Denmark and I were just out of our minds with Hanukka-Santa good cheer.

In this year of particularly hard times, this all feels better than usual. My family is blessed with more than we need and a lot of good fortune. While this has been a particularly hard year emotionally, I dont worry about food; my home is always warm; and we enjoy many opportunities that others do not. I have always believed in Pay It Forward.  I got my Masters in Social Work for a reason. The fact that raising three wonderful kids stopped me from working did not top me from believing in the ideals that I always aspired to. I think so many of us want to do the best we can to help those who don’t have the same blessings. We do it in different ways, but the bottom line is that I ultimately believe in Community. I believe that it does in fact Take a Village. Yesterday, I felt so overwhelmed with joy, knowing that I wasn’t going home with piles of stuff that I bought just to fill the package quota under the tree, or to make each night of Hanukkah a big bang for my own kids. Let’s be real here: my kids will still have a wonderful holiday season. But, for the first time ever, I really believe that enough is enough. I don’t feel compelled to make it over the top. Quality vs quantity means something this year.

This will be my last Christmas with a mother. That fact, as hard as it is to type, colors everything I do and think right now. It has put so many things in perspective; so many things that I already knew and believed, but now I want to really follow through on. Being with her, sharing her daily fears and grief is truly humbling. There was a time (true story) when my mother could not afford to buy my brother, sister and I any gifts one Christmas. We had a small fake tree and no real gifts to speak of. I got an ugly crocheted beret, but seriously, that was it. We went to a bowling alley for burgers Christmas Eve. While I had many over the top Christmases later, and my grandmother spoiled us year after year, I have always remembered that one Christmas when we went without. I hope that this year, there are a few families that at least have baby food; a few kids who get their angel wishes filled; and that my Mom finally finds peace. I filled a few wishes for her too and I know that there will be some powerful moments in our home this holiday season.

For the past few years Christmas has been a hard time for me. The Christmas’ of my past come back to haunt me and I tend to feel a little blue. Over the years, the family I thought I had as a child, when we all spent every holiday together, vacations and endless good times, no longer exists. It is not because we live far apart, but because we are not the people I thought we were. Family rifts and foolish things came between us all and we have not really been there for each other. While I miss what I believed my family was, I have come to accept what really is and not what I wish for. My mother’s impending death has made that even clearer. For all the good she did in her life, she is dying alone with only my sister and I beside her and a few good wishes on Facebook. She’s been alone for the past several years as she slid downhill. No cards, no flowers, no real connection to much outside the room where she lays now.  It may be selfish, but part of what drives me this year is to fill the void with good. To reclaim Christmas for myself. I have celebrated Hanukkah with my children and made Christmas a shadow of what it once was. This is my effort to reclaim some magic. Perhaps each year now, we can move further from what we want and toward giving back, and celebrating the magic that Denmark said was missing. Oh my… I’m sure I sound a tad maudlin here, but I hope that despite the sadness that permeates so much right now in my life, this joy will carry me and those I love. This is what it should be about.

 <– Greetings brought to you by Scrabble Cheez-Its

So, today the goods are still sitting in the car. All of us are afraid to even open that trunk. I’ve made some calls and will try to figure out the best place for it all to go. We’ll put together our Gift bags for the homeless tonight and pass them out next week, when Principessa is home too.  Finally, each year, for as long as I can remember, I go to the mall and take a bunch of those angels down from the tree outside our local Target. They’re there in every mall: a tree full of paper angels with wish lists. For years, the kids and I picked angels the same age as they are, but now I look for younger kids or ones that seem to need clothes. We go shopping for our angels and then bring it all back to the Salvation Army desk and turn it all in. I am feeling like Santa today, go ahead call me a Ho: Ho, Ho Ho! I dare you.

What are you doing for the holidays?  What brings you joy and what are your traditions?  Give it some thought, go out there and do something kind. Pay it forward, and see how good you feel. Happy Holidays!

And now, the solicitation part:

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  If you are on the post, it is at the very bottom of that post. Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but a girl’s gotta make a point.)

Posted in Blog, Christma-Hanukkah Mission, Christmas mission, Daily Observations, Death of parent, Holidays, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Musings, My world, Uncategorized, Wonderful Things | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

The Middle… Have to Laugh or I’d Cry… Oh, Right! I’m Crying Too.

Posted on December 15, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

This will be brief, this will be brief… I swear: This will be that brief Middle post I aspire to.

<– Milk running down my cabinets

Slip sliding Away, that’s me (listen to the those words, or read them here).  I know a woman!  Life sucks buckets right now. Sucks. Buckets. There I said it. No grace here, no sunny outlook, and no weepy, deep commentary. It just sucks buckets of doo-doo.  And some of it sucks in such stupid, normal, little ways that I just have to laugh. Mind you, I am beginning to look like the kind of person that not only laughs to herself, but talks to herself as well. I did in fact catch myself this morning, having a sarcastic, terribly snarky conversation with myself (or my dog?) about spilt milk and tears. I wouldn’t have cried about the milk, if my stupid coffee maker hadn’t malfunctioned half way through making my latte… AND, when I opened the machine, the grounds were not in fact full. Hello? Machine, stop messing with me!  I have three teens doing that and I don’t need you adding to the fun.  That grounds bin is NOT full!  –>

<– Who knew, when I put on summer PJs last night, that I’d be making a fashion statement today?

This all came after one teen called to say that he’d confused the “block days” and had all the wrong books. Could I “Pleeeease bring (his) books to (him) right away?”  I’ve done WAY too much driving of teens this week. Denmark has had a concert, sleep over or something nearly every day and many are thirty minutes to an hour… hello? That can only mean sitting in the car waiting. In her defense she’s managed to get a few rides one way, but man… Stop Chorus, stop!  So,  I told Little Man, that I would jump right in the car, but would be in my pajamas, fuzzy slippers and he’d better be waiting in front of the school. This is the second time in one week that I have run to the school in my PJs.  I actually got out and pumped gas a few days ago in them. Thank G it’s still dark at 7:15 AM… but if you see someone who looks like me in those Walmart photo montages, you’ll know I’ve slipped all the way down.  (Hey, my feet were warm! Yes officer, I do go out like this… and your point?—>)

<– LOVE my new rug… perfect with the wall color. (See Off the Wheel).

Yesterday I broke a molar and had to have my first crown, which involved much more drilling and work than it would have, had I dealt with this when the tooth started hurting, um… years ago. When the dentist said “This is going to be a bit intense,” well, hello? Add it to the list my friend. At least there were drugs for this intense. The rest of the week has been pretty comparable to the dental work. But laugh I have. And get some things done too. I laid down our new carpet, that I love! I put lights on that 10.5′ tree, all on my own. I climbed on the roof and put lights there too. I edited 300 pages of the manuscript, back from the Editor. I drove those kids, I went to my husband’s office party to represent the husband who is still in Chile (safe, based on a 1 minute call yesterday) and I spent a lot of hours sitting with my mother… mostly tearful, well, because it was a hard week for both of us.

The status of things remains much the same, day to day… poopy with some laughter on the side. Please don’t ask me how I’m doing: I’m hanging on by a thread. Please don’t ask me if my Mom is doing any better or how she’s doing: She’s dying… it doesn’t get better. Please don’t judge me if my PJs don’t match and I don’t have matching earrings (twice this week). I appreciate all the love, support and goodwill, truly I do. But I can’t provide updates.  So, I may be talking to myself, the dog, the spilt milk and coffee maker, a bit. And I may be driving around town in my pajamas. And, I may be officially unable to gloat about good teeth anymore (ok, that one really gets me), but I’m laughing too… and that’s a good sign. AND, this is a short post. Tada!

(It’s short even if I don’t count the words below, which I hope you will READ. AND, this is my 75th post!!)

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  If you are on the post, it is at the very bottom of that post. Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but a girl’s gotta make a point.)

Posted in Honest observations on many things | 11 Comments