tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87038212024-03-13T10:23:10.106-05:00Jim's Beating The CancerThis blog is for Jim Marventano's family and friends to review his status and updates while he goes through treatment for Stage IV Colon Cancer. We can beat it together!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-27379502034339657742011-06-01T11:39:00.000-05:002011-06-01T11:39:35.383-05:00ThanksThanks for reading the blog, my friends. I'm going to keep it posted, but I'm done writing. I appreciate everyone's support and friendship. Thanks for seeing Jim, me, and the kids through one heck of a journey. Embarking on new challenges isn't always easy or fun - thank you for being our cheerleaders through thick and thin. <br />
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love,<br />
KateUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-51318219355189307132011-05-26T14:27:00.000-05:002011-05-26T14:27:41.357-05:00Really cancer? WTF.So, that's the gentle title for today's post. In the last post I mentioned that things have been a wee bit tough around here. So here's part of the story that goes with that. I've held on to this blog for a few weeks but now is the time to post it.<br />
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Really? R.E.A.L.L.Y.? What the hell, cancer? Because...wouldn't you think that we've paid our dues to cancer because we lost Jim? I'm gonna say <b><u><i>yes</i></u></b>. Apparently that wasn't enough. And there's no easy way to say it. We recently found out that my sister-in-law Becky has Hodgkin's lymphoma. FUCK. Are you kidding me? Becky is married to my brother Kevin, and they have a handsome, sweet, brilliant little 18 month old boy named Darby. <br />
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Fill in the blank here...<br />
Jim is to Kate as _____ is to Kevin.<br />
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We Fergusons tend to marry people that balance us out. People that are the missing component in our family. People that have good strong personalities and a solid head on their shoulders. Heaven knows we need it. Becky is everything to Kevin (and to the rest of our family, for that matter) that Jim was to me.<br />
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Kevin did a lot 'o livin before he met Becky. With Becky, Kevin managed to put himself through school while working full time, find a great job after he graduated, and together they have the cutest little boy to walk the streets of Kohler. (Anyone who wants to fight for that title will have to see me, his Aunt Kate.) Kevin and Becky moved to Kohler a few months ago. Ironically, they ended up moving in i.m.m.e.d.i.a.t.e.l.y. n.e.x.t. d.o.o.r. t.o. m.e. My parents bought the house next door, and then promptly contracted a case of buyer's remorse. So they offered to sell the house to Kevin and Becky if Kev could find a job. Well, Kev nailed the first job he interviewed for and started work on February 14. They opted to move to Kohler for the same reasons we all do - a better quality of life. They were in St. Paul before that, and with big city living also comes big city price tags. So here they are. Next door. I fretted that things would be awkward. And then you know what happened? Becky just flat out said to me "I don't want this to be an 'Everybody Loves Raymond' scenario." Yeeeeessssssss...Becky, you are my kind of girl.<br />
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So, here they are in Kohler. Over the last couple of years, Becky has lost significant amounts of weight. At first, we praised her for losing weight after Darby was born. Then I was annoyed as I watched her get thin and more than a wee bit jealous of her slim figure. Recently she's been fretting about the weight because it's been coming off despite her eating normally - bearing in mind that the Ferguson version of normal is 3x more than the average person. She'd been to the doctor twice in St. Paul, worried about the weight loss. Her thyroid and bloodwork tested fine. They told her her body was just leveling out after Darby's birth. <br />
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She recently decided that she was ready to try again and figure out this weight loss thing. It's been bothering her.<br />
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20 minutes into a meeting with our general doctor (a shout out to Dr. Michelle for actually listening to her), Dr. Michelle told Becky that she thought she might have some form of lymphoma and that she needed a scan and bloodwork done immediately. They are so new in town that Becky didn't even know how to get to the doctor's office, let alone hear news like that and then figure out where to go for the scan. She called my parents (who happened to be visiting) and my dad and I went to pick her up.<br />
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While at the scan, drinking the lovely contrast mixture, she looked at me and said "What are the odds that Jim moved to Kohler and got diagnosed with cancer, and now I move to Kohler and get diagnosed with cancer?" Ffffffff. I don't know. I said "The odds are pretty damn slim, Becky. Let's hope that works in our favor!"<i> It didn't.</i> The radiologist read the report immediately. We got on the phone with the doctor. Yes, everything appears to be consistent with lymphoma. <br />
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Becky has already had some lymph nodes removed and biopsied. And she's already met with Dr. Kumar at my beloved Vince Lombardi Cancer Clinic. And she's already got her port. <br />
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The good news: Becky's bloodwork all came back completely normal. Yippee! She got her first chemo treatment on Tuesday, and they fawned all over her at the Vince. Of course they did, because they're amazing like that. I still keep hoping that maybe it's all a big mistake and that she just needs to drink more water. Or something silly like that. The success rates for Hodgkin's lymphoma are astoundingly positive. The doctor repeated many times "Becky, I need to stress that this is VERY treatable." Good. Because for heaven's sakes, she's got an adorable little boy at home that needs her...and I'm not just referring to my brother. ;-) <br />
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Unfortunately, Becky's two major encounters with cancer have included her mother, who she lost to breast cancer when Becky was only eight years old. And Jim. (The doctor said that the lymphoma is not related to Becky's family history.) Becky and Jim had a unique relationship, as adjusting to the Ferguson lifestyle requires a support group all it's own. They were fond of each other, and both of them have a keen sense of wit - apparently that's a must-have for dealing with the Ferguson clan. <br />
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I laughed and said that it's pretty scary when you're dealing with the Ferguson clan for your support network. But if there's one thing Fergusons can do, it's rally. We're mixing the Ferguson affinity for the excessive with the notorious Ferguson temper. Lymphoma? Ha! You don't have a chance around here. Becky is a Ferguson. She may have been born a Garner and raised by Siranys...but she's a Ferguson. We're like the Hotel California. You can check out but you can never leave. Poor Jim...with a good strong last name like Marventano, we still considered him a Ferguson. (I'm sure he would have begged to differ, but you couldn't tell my brothers anything else.) We are fiercely protective of our own. And Becky's got her fighting gloves on. Bring it. <br />
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I'm saddened and angry. I'm downright pissed. I thought we were done with this. It's brought up emotions and memories I'd forgotten about. The smell of chemo. Feeling guilty when I left the house for a girl's night. The emotional rollercoaster that accompanies news like this. Even sitting out on the hospital lawn, crying into the phone, talking to Jim's sister after they gave us the news. Kevin and Becky have a long summer ahead, but I don't have a single shred of doubt that they will be victorious.<br />
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I love Becky for the woman and mom that she is; for her biting wit and frank words; for her empathy and caring. I also love her for loving my brother, and allowing him to be who he is, and helping bring him to his fullest potential. <br />
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Becky, if it's any comfort, you've got the crazy, hot tempered, protective, excessive Fergusons behind you. We love you with reckless abandon because you are our family. It will be okay. You will be okay. And when we get your "No Evidence of Disease" notice, it's going to be NUTS. You belong with us like peanut butter belongs with jelly. Or, in Ferguson terms...like a bratwurst and a cold beer on a hot summer day.<br />
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We love you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-58592394111127911702011-05-19T10:49:00.000-05:002011-05-19T10:49:50.546-05:00All That is GoodLately, it seems that so many things going on around me are unjust. It's not fair. No one deserves cancer, or job loss, or other myriad problems that the people closest to me are experiencing.<br />
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After a particularly tough last month or so, I've decided to blog about what's good and just in my life. I have always maintained that one of my roles in life is to just BE fun. And HAVE fun. And experience fun with great FRIENDS. (The little girls in Rachel's class all tease me because "FUN" is my word.) I know I should be more...academic. Or cerebral. Or serious. Or grounded. Or have more convictions. Or have a better work ethic. But you know...I'm willing to leave that to other people. Of course there are times and places for things; but I prefer to rest on a lighter note than most people. I am generally a very happy person.<br />
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So here are the things that I believe are good and right going on around me that I haven't paid attention to lately:<br />
1. My brother and sister-in-law moved in immediately next door to me. This is a golden opportunity for me to develop a better relationship with them, and with my nephew Darby. It's not like Kev and I weren't close, but he's always had his life and I've had mine...and we just dealt with our own lives. Here we are, in what is possibly the cutest town in the United States. We're living in a Norman Rockwell painting of backyard barbecues, tons of kids, beautiful tree-lined streets, and adorable little 1920's houses. My brother is teaching my son to play pinball on his xbox. My sister-in-law is younger and prettier and cooler than me - Rachel hangs around Becky like it's her job. Rachel and Jake can't get enough of playing with their cousin Darby. What a tremendous gift. My brother Tom is coming to visit this weekend for a quick trip. Tom is really the glue that holds the three of us together. He's insistent and persistent on calls and visits. Between the three of us we don't have a shred of sibling rivalry and I'm grateful for that.<br />
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2. Yesterday I went out to breakfast with my two future sister-in-laws, Susan and Cheryl. I was so proud to sit there with them. I have a very best friend in Susan, and I have a great potential friend in Cheryl. We didn't run out of things to talk about, that's for sure. Cheryl lives in Colorado - she's married to John and Susan's brother Doug. I don't get to see Cheryl that often. This is only my second time since John and I started dating. We all jokingly referred to my first meeting with Cheryl as "The Interview" because John *really* respects Cheryl and Doug's opinion. Like I wasn't sweating that! But yesterday was far more casual (for me at least) and I was absolutely delighted to spend the time with both of them. Marrying John means I'll be inheriting four more nieces and nephews. And I love being an aunt. <br />
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3. Speaking of friends, man - my group is the bomb. I have a gang of girls that run around together and we can get pretty rowdy when we're laughing and having fun. Sometimes we laugh so hard we've got tears streaming out of our eyes and I feel like I might wet my pants. We talk about issues - political and social, world and local. We talk about our kids. We talk about what's coming next in our lives. We talk about what didn't work as we thought it would, and about what did. I know I can call any one of those girls and at the drop of a hat, they'll be there. We've been through everything together - from cancer to childbirth to job loss to new opportunity. We've been through death, divorce, home remodels, and new love. We've suffered when someone is hurting and we've rejoiced when someone is happy. And you know what's funny? We've been through all that in the last 5 years or so. I cherish my group as much as my own family.<br />
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4. My kids, while tough to manage, are good and just. They are happy children, despite the fact that they lost their dad to cancer. They are very normal children. They have the most amazing manners. (At least in front of me they do.) They are also crude and going through a potty mouth phase, which I find disgusting and normal. They are healthy. They are healthy. They are healthy, And my God, I am thankful for that. Because I know full well that other parents are suffering far more than I ever have in my life. <br />
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5. I just got to take a trip to Savannah. Because I have a job, and John has a job. And because my in-laws came to watch the kids. Because I knew I could leave the kids with two people who love them very, very much. Janet and Jim got to be here for Grandparent's Day at school, and I know my kids were delighted to have them. Rachel and Jake get to go camping with their Aunt Judi and Uncle Mark and cousins Kirsten and Sean this summer, and that will be a real treat for them.<br />
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6. Don't laugh about my number six. We're celebrating the small things here. I'm going to give a shout out to Sprinkles cupcakes. And cupcakes in general. And the fact that I've learned to make cakepops. (Thanks to Amy Krueger for inspiring that one!) Because you know what? It's little things that make every day life special. And I think cupcakes are special. ...Other small things? I am getting pretty good at trap shooting. And I have a great friend, Liz Schumacher, who talked me into it. We shoot every Tuesday. Last Tuesday I brought Rachel and Jake, and Rachel told me that she wants to start shooting as soon as she's old enough. Well hot dang. That's one of the reasons I'm doing this. So they can eventually do something their father enjoyed. And I finished the Green Bay Half Marathon with my mom this last weekend. I'm not the fastest out there (and thankfully not the slowest either!) but I am out there. We are healthy and able to run 13.1 miles.<br />
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7. I have the best parents *ever*. Don't even try to tell me that your parents are better than mine. They aren't. And I thank God every day that they are healthy.<br />
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8. It's freezing STILL here in Wisconsin. But hey, I'm living in Wisconsin and I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful to be near family. I miss my old digs in Atlanta. God knows I miss Sara and Paul, Christine, and Amy and Erik. But Wisconsin is a blessing of beautiful summers, magnificent fall leaves, awesome cheese, rolling hills and amber waves of grain. And hops. And barley. And Miller Brewing Company.<br />
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9. What is just and good in my life is that I have found love again. Not just some dud I picked up on the street. This guy is the human version of kobe steak. He's brilliant and funny and good looking. He's charming and I love his laugh. He's fun and creative. He loves me and he loves my kids. And the kids love him. This week they are experimenting with calling him "Dad", which breaks my heart and then fills it. John makes me feel whole again. When I think about John, my heart swells and I am overcome with emotion. I consider John a direct gift from God. No kidding. In the end, my kids will have three families to love them. I will have found outrageously good love in my life - twice.<br />
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Yeah, things suck right now. It's been seriously tough times around here. But look at all the things I have that *are* fair. That *are* right. The fact that I am able to look around, enjoy the blooming tulips and daffodils, smell the clean Wisconsin air (sometimes tinged with the smell of the Kohler foundry or cow poop), run, jump, dance with my kids and my nieces and nephews, breathe, and eat cupcakes - these are all my blessings. The fact that I have friends and family with which to share love is far and away the greatest blessing of my life. That is the justice for which I've been yearning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-56677741291091383632011-04-22T14:36:00.000-05:002011-04-22T14:36:21.206-05:00Measuring SuccessLast night I heard a very interesting quote. It was "You're only as successful as the five people you're closest to, and that doesn't necessarily refer to money."<br />
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Huh.<br />
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I don't know about you, but I started really examining who I thought I was closest to. I have a huge array of friends and relatives. But who do I call when I'm really hysterical? Not many people.<br />
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I thought about success and what it really means to me. I decided many years ago that how much money Jim and I made wasn't a measure of success. I listened to a book on tape of <u>The Millionaire Next Door</u>, and we cut our lifestyle way back so that we could pay for things in cash and not carry any debt. I considered that a big life success.<br />
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Oh, but I do love material things. If you're my friend on Facebook, chances are you already know that I'm literally attempting to run the Chicago Marathon this year in 5 1/2 hrs or less. If I can do it, my reward is a Marc Jacobs purse that I've been lusting after for *years*, but haven't been able to justify the cost. Yes, that's what will drive me to finish a marathon. Not being healthy or even being thin. I want something material. I have a love/hate affair with all things designer. Not because I want other people to know what I have - who cares what anyone else thinks? But because oh my, the leather of a Marc Jacobs purse just feels...so good. Because Ted Baker's clothing is softer than anything I could get at Old Navy. And because my Target sunglasses ride up on my face when I smile...but my Chanel sunglasses don't. (And I wear my Target sunglasses and the Chanel sunglasses in equal measure.) The love part is that I love them. The hate part is that I can't afford them. So I have a very few things that I truly love, and buy everything else at Target, Land's End, or when feeling crazy, Banana Republic. Loving those things also makes me feel ashamed and materialistic. And it also drives up my envy gene when I see people who have things that I want. I have worked for several years on keeping that in check, sometimes it's a struggle. Lately it's not as much of a struggle, but man, I have to be vigilant about keeping it under control.<br />
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But, I digress. Success isn't measured in wealth or material things. Not in my mind anyway. When I evaluate the people I feel closest to in life, none of them are millionaires. But I consider all of them highly successful. In their relationships, in their families and homes, in love, in life. All of them have stumbled or gone through tough times. Instead of wallowing in it, they've all picked themselves up, regained perspective, and gone forth with courage. And done it with an air of optimism that is truly refreshing.<br />
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I wondered whether I would consider myself successful. When Jim was alive, I considered us highly successful. We had two fabulous jobs in Atlanta. We had two beautiful children. We moved to Kohler and bought a house that's cute as a button. I got to stay home with the kids, while he went to work so close to our house that he often came home for lunch. We loved and respected each other. We laughed and had fun together. We made plans, we had goals. We had tons of friends, including our siblings. I really thought we had it all. Sure, there were tough times. I am an in-your-face-get-it-out-on-the-table fighter. Jim was so passive aggressive that he could go days without speaking to me. Early on in Atlanta we dug ourselves a debt mountain...and then managed to completely pay it off. We disagreed on lots and lots of things. Our parenting philosophies were so different that sometimes I'd call my mom and cry about it. But who doesn't have things like that? Overall, I rated us as hugely successful. <br />
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When Jim died, I considered that my life failure. Man, we mounted one hell of a battle against cancer. And failed. I was left reeling. Without Jim, how would I moved forward?<br />
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I've spent the last three and a half years carefully constructing what I consider to be a successful life. I've become so rigid in my thinking that in my mind, there's only one way to do things. But this building project has been more akin to a house of cards than a concrete block foundation. Every time I've stumbled and fallen, I've seen the entire construct fall apart and I've had to start again. I've become bitter and brittle. I resent families that have their stuff together. I had all that. Why was it taken from me? Why do they get to have what I lost?<br />
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I am a nerd of gargantuan proportions. Thusly, one of my recent favorite movies is "Tron: Legacy". And you know what Kevin Flynn says? "The thing about perfection is that it's unknowable. It's impossible, but it's also right in front of us all the time." Aw shit. Really? I had to learn that from Kevin Flynn? <br />
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The five people I feel closest to seem to recognize that they aren't striving for perfection. They're striving for "getting it done", "kindness", "living a moral life" and "giving and receiving love". You know what's funny? I don't see a Marc Jacobs handbag in that list. I don't see where they feel that a setback makes them rip down the entire house of cards. It just takes them down a level. And then they rebuild from there. Maybe that's what makes a strong foundation. Recognizing that perfection isn't the goal.<br />
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People often tell me that I'm too hard on myself. Of course I am. I'm trying to set up a rigid structure that helps us get by. I'm doing it alone. I want so badly for the kids and me to have a "normal" life. I have to put out double the effort, literally, in order to achieve what other families can. Loneliness and bitterness drive a lot of my activities. Despite all that, we have very happy days here. We are living a normal life as I see it. (A Ferguson definition of "normal" probably doesn't meet the same definition everyone else uses.) We get by, one day at a time. And most days, we do better than get by. When I think about the five people I feel closest to, I try and model their success, and I feel happy knowing that in my own way, I am successful too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-43396053939906755392011-03-14T11:44:00.003-05:002011-03-14T12:48:43.467-05:00The Angry Phase*Watch out. This is an angry rant.<br /><br />You know I've been through several phases since Jim was diagnosed, ranging from feeling helpless to feeling like a party-animal to feeling like I have to explain to everyone at the grocery store why I'm an only parent. And don't even get me started on the phase that I don't particularly appreciate being called a single parent - I am an only parent. Any way, I go through lots of phases, and many of them seem to be tied to season changes.<br /><br />There's something about spring and summer that really throw me off my rocker. It's not even spring yet (good God, I know...we're still sitting under 2 feet of snow here), but the birds are chirping, we're getting more sunny days, and suddenly any mental footing I had seems to slip out from under me like a landslide. In the last few weeks, cancer has reared it's ugly head in more people than I care to mention. It's driven me into an angry phase.<br /><br />In the last several weeks I am reminded with a vengeance of what was taken from me. I am feeling angry about losing Jim. I am feeling sad for my kids. I am feeling sick for those families that are dealing with cancer - or the loss of someone who had cancer. I am feeling regret over some of our dealings with cancer - we did the best we could...but maybe I could have afforded Jim the luxury of eating pizza every damn day if he wanted it. I was just so focused on getting him healthy and well. I wish I'd talked to Jim about other stuff more often. I wish I'd known sooner that his swollen legs were a sign of congestive heart failure. I am glad we got to talk and say goodbye, but while he was going through treatment I was so fixated on our next steps and achieving the NED goal. And I felt bad whining to him about a hangnail or a stubbed toe when the guy was hooked to a chemo pump through a port in his chest. Jim thought it was funny and incredibly annoying that I was such as hypochondriac. Maybe whining that a hangnail was a sign that my arm would probably fall off would have been a dose of normal that Jim could have used. I don't regret 98% of his treatment or the way we dealt with things. But that 2% slays me. I'm glad we tried everything we could, but sometimes I think I was so driven to make him get better that I pushed everything else in life, including normal conversations, aside.<br /><br />So my current phase, fueled by anger and insecurity over cancer is that of being completely cynical and annoyed with the whole thing. "The whole thing" being life in general. Because really...what am I doing this all for? Having and raising kids seems incredibly selfish when I see even the most normal childhood struggles. (As I have mentioned before, despite the fact that I had a fabulous childhood and home life, I did NOT enjoy being a child.) If it seems selfish when they are struggling through things like math homework, how will I feel when something major happens to them? What if they don't have a good example of love in their lives because I've been single and they see me dropping guys over the fact that I don't like the way they tie their sneakers? (I haven't broken up with John, by the way...I'm just stating a worry here.) What if I'm getting married too soon and they think I view marriage as disposable or easy? What if they get colon cancer? Every time one of them goes to the bathroom I worry. Seriously. Am I feeding them enough fruits and veggies? Should I switch them to a vegetarian diet?...and so on. These are like rungs on the little hamster wheel I'm running on that is supposed to be my life.<br /><br />What am I exercising for? Jim was healthy. He was a runner. And yet, at 36 years old he was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. What the? So...let me get this straight. I'm supposed to run...for my health. And I'm supposed to stay healthy so that I can...what? I'm supposed to run a half marathon so I can...? Feel good about myself for an hour after it's done and carry my little medal around...and then what? I have to start training for something else. And something else after that.<br /><br />Sometimes my life seems so driven by tedium and drivel that it makes me want to scream. Ok. So I'm supposed to go find some work that's really satisfying. What the hell kind of work is satisfying? You know what's satisfying to me? *Taking a nap*. Or I'm supposed to do something really adventurous. And...leave my kids that I was selfish enough to have? "Sorry kids, mom has to climb Mount Everest - I'm sure you understand. It's for my own mental satisfaction. Because regular everyday life isn't enough for me. I need more. I'll only be gone for a month or two."<br /><br />Wait, why do I need to clean up the house again? So that I have a comfortable atmosphere? FOR WHAT? What a dumb thing. To put knick-knacks all over and think it looks nice. People would come over even if I didn't have oriental rugs and matching paint. (Well, they might not after this rant, but that's a different story!) I hate cleaning. It's a waste of my time. Same with cooking. Who cares if we have a healthy dinner every night? My kids don't seem any worse for the wear if I feed them canned soup and grilled cheese. It's completely lame that I'm expected to make something healthy every night. Know what we were eating for dinner the night Jim got diagnosed? Turkey chili. Because I was trying to cut down on our red meat consumption. Oh goody. I made us a healthy dinner. That one wouldn't fit past the golf-ball sized tumor in his colon. But I'll make sure that we're getting the damn four food groups because I'm supposed to. Why? Because it prevents cancer. Wellllll, not exactly. But it MIGHT prevent cancer. Or at least keep it at bay.<br /><br />I went through this all on the phone with John the other night and he got quiet. He's not accustomed to me being cynical and bitter. I think one of the reasons John loves me is because I find joy in even the smallest things - I am normally the picture of resilience. But lately, in this phase, there is no joy.<br /><br />Am I always supposed to be grateful and thankful for what I have? Don't get me wrong - the kids are so awesome. It's truly my honor to be their mom. I *am* grateful for them. I am lucky to have found John - to have found love a second time. But where are we going with this? HEY GOD! I COULD REALLY USE A COPY OF THE PLAN.<br /><br />Next week I'll feel different. (Please God let me feel different.) Next week I'll feel gung-ho like I can do it all and be happy doing it. I'll realize that what I have - my family, my life, my health - is a gift. This week marks the week it's been 3 1/2 years since Jim died. What an emotional journey. I feel like I'm 100 years old. Jim was robbed of all his gifts. We were robbed of the gift - the spirit - that was Jim. So this week I reserve the right to go through an angry phase.<br /><br />The sun is shining, it's a beautiful day out...who the f%ck cares.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-86371461808957867652011-02-28T20:47:00.002-05:002011-02-28T21:29:52.516-05:00Back to the Drawing BoardSo, guess what? I got a job. Actually, I got two jobs.<br /><br />Job #1 - Online marketing and website management for my previous boss, Kimberly. I've mentioned Kimberly in a post or two before. She's my life and work mentor. She's smarter than all y'all. And she can shoot pool and play darts with the best of 'em. And she's interesting. And she taught me A LOT about keeping my trap shut and my game face on. (Some of those lessons I clearly need to brush up on.) And she's very self-actualized, which I have tremendous respect for. I have respect for anyone that sets a goal and then actually accomplishes it. Kimberly doesn't just talk the talk. She walks the walk. Anyway, Kimberly owns a franchise of a business down in Jacksonville called Tutor Doctor. So I'm going to be doing some marketing, etc. for her. For those of you who didn't know me before I moved to a Norman Rockwell painting, I had a pretty successful career in IT. I did product management, technical writing and end-user documentation.<br /><br />Job #2 - I got myself a job as a nursing assistant. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yee</span> haw! My classes paid off and I got a job offer. Not only am I state certified to bathe and feed people (people that aren't my offspring - because heaven knows they don't have a test before we become parents) but I'm also qualified to earn .50 cents LESS an hour than I pay my babysitter! *sigh* I knew the pay would be low. I wanted to be inspired. And I AM inspired when I see how amazing those caregivers are. Man, nurses and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">CNAs</span> hustle. They work for that dollar. And I'll be darned if not nearly every single one of them throughout Jim's process wasn't completely amazing and giving and compassionate. (Except that male nurse at Northwestern. He was a jerk. I'm looking at YOU - in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Interventional</span> Radiology Department, buddy.) So, they're offering me <span style="font-style: italic;">fifty cents less an hour than I pay my babysitter to work on weekends</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Oy</span>. That's time away from my kids.<br /><br />When I started this process I dragged my feet and said that I couldn't POSSIBLY go back into IT. Because I was burned out. Because I'd had it up to my eyeballs with a lackluster development process and with people who couldn't take ownership for their work.<span style="font-size:78%;"> ...And maybe a little bit because I'm scared that my skills are WAY out of date. </span>And yet, when Kimberly called with this opportunity, I am brimming with ideas. With the need to see her business and how she talks to her customers and meet the kids who have had amazing results with her in-home tutoring business. Because if I made an investment in my kids' academic future, and I had to hand a check to one person, it would be Kimberly. (Or Judy Howell. But I digress.)<br /><br />I wanted to help people the way they helped us. I wanted to be inspired. I wanted to be that comfort when someone needed it. Or that smile when someone with cancer was having a crap day. When I interviewed for the job, the woman smirked at me and said "Um. You must have made a lot of money in Atlanta. You're not going to be making that here." And I knew I wouldn't. Everyone has to start somewhere. And when it's with no experience, somewhere is better than no where. But at this rate, I'm actually LOSING money and I don't get to stay home with my kids.<br /><br />AND I'm actually feeling excited about working with Kimberly on the Tutor Doctor stuff. Because I'd report to Kimberly, and no one else. If I screw up, it's all on me. No pointing fingers. No office squabbles or personality differences. I'm looking for a job that's interesting but I don't have to climb a corporate ladder. I don't want water-cooler chats. I don't want to hear <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">anyone's</span> opinions or ideas unless they come directly from the person that's hired me. Basically, I just want to do my job to the best of my ability.<br /><br />So that means eating the nursing assistant courses I took and chalking them up to good experience. At least for now. It means blowing the socks off Kimberly and Tutor Doctor. I'm disappointed. I'd imagined myself working as a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">CNA</span> part-time and going to school to get my RN. I imagined studying hard and really getting into the classes. But the reality is I'd imagined that from 8-5, Monday through Friday. Not on weekends and times when I'd have to pay someone more to stay with my kids than I'm making.<br /><br />It feels like I keep starting down a maze track, trying to get to the end, and hit another wall. This maze that is my life certainly doesn't match the picture they held up for me when they roped me into this whole "being an adult" thing. Granted, I LOVE being an adult. Hopefully I can mimic one of those trained rats that knows how to get to the food after a couple of tries. If someone wants to send me the playbook on how this is supposed to work out, that would really be helpful. Because it sort of seems like I'm drawing the maze *and* trying to figure out how to come out on the other side <span style="font-style: italic;">all at the same time</span>.<br /><br />Hey Jacksonville. If you haven't heard of Tutor Doctor or Kimberly, keep an eye out for them! You've got a bored widow in Wisconsin who's itching to market a business and a boss she believes in. And who just wants to find her way out of this maze to get some cheese...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-24241864818331735192011-01-31T09:56:00.002-05:002011-01-31T10:43:05.321-05:00Where do we go from here?I've had a jumble of feelings about Jim lately. I took the kids to Disney World at the beginning of January because Judi ran the Disney Marathon in memory of Jim. I trained to run it, but the week before I got so sick that I couldn't run. I cried about that. Felt guilty on the day of the race. Wrestled with my psyche wondering if I somehow got sick on purpose so I couldn't run. Guilt and tears consumed many a night earlier this month.<br /><br />Everyone else's life gets to move on ahead. They are making plans, doing new things, hanging out with the people they love. I somehow feel stagnant despite the fact that I am moving ahead too. I have a wonderful fiance who I love very much. I haven't been happy like this in YEARS. For those people that find sheer joy in doing nothing but doting on their kids...good for you. More power to you. But a little adult interaction is the life preserver I've been needing. As I've said before, a hug from your kids or your parents or your friends is not the same kind of feeling as a hug from someone who loves you.<br /><br />No action or emotion happens in my world without serious self doubt and a healthy dose of judgement from other people. Some express it out loud. Others don't. Either way, I suppose it happens because I open myself to it. After all, I document my emotion on my blog or on Facebook. I still find it stunning how many people choose to judge my choices. Because...really? You get to go out with your husband on a date any night you want. My friends all got to make goals for 2011 with their spouses. What's the appropriate amount of time I'm supposed to be home, alone and be a widow? Is 5 years enough? 10 years? How long are my kids supposed to go without a father figure in their lives? How long should my daughter take her grandfather to the Father-Daughter dance? How long should Jake be expected to make a separate "special" Father's Day project at school because his Dad died?<br /><br />Heaven knows John is a tolerant man. And that he's taking on a lot. After all, I appear not to have the same kind of baggage that someone who is divorced carries. But the reality is that it would be easier for John to compete with a sh*tty ex-husband that muddles picking up the kids. It would be easier to find a girlfriend that doesn't have kids. It would be easier to not have to learn to parent. It would be easier to buy his own house and not have to commute a long way to work. It would be easier to have a fiancee that doesn't cry over her late husband.<br /><br />John is trying to build a life with me on the shaky foundation I have left from my previous life. He's putting up with tears, meltdowns, frustrations. He's trying to blend into my family - not an easy feat - after Jim. We all know how my family felt about Jim. John's trying to make me happy and make the kids happy and be happy himself, despite what he's taking on.<br /><br />As John pointed out, I am in the trenches here. I am the one who is dealing with the every day crap that is the remnant of our life. I am a single parent. I am an ONLY parent. I am the ONLY one dealing with throw-up, homework, reading charts, shoveling snow, temper tantrums (mine and theirs), laundry, playdates, cooking, and the myriad other tasks that come with being a parent. I have had to cut a monstrously large amount of stuff out of our lives because I realized that I can't do it all. A few weeks ago the miracle of team parenting started happening for me. John took the kids outside and shoveled the walk while I cleaned up inside. Then he made lunch for all of us while I did laundry. Please understand: as an only parent, I would have been able to choose two of those activities and then work on two of them LATER. It's sad when one of the more exciting points of my weekend is dual tasking. But hey, that's how a NORMAL family works, and it's exciting to me to have that kind of...flexibility. It's exciting to me to thank someone for helping me. It's exciting to me to have someone who listens to me, who talks with me, who makes plans with me, and who loves me.<br /><br />Think I need to hear your judgment? Nope. Believe me, I'm already overworking it in my mind. If you've got thoughts, keep them to yourself. Jim and John will both be canonized for loving me. But John will be canonized for helping me put my life back together <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>loving me. You're the finest of men, John. I am so very blessed. Some people can't find love once. I've found it twice and I'm grateful for all that entails.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-80277665632080205822010-11-23T09:21:00.010-05:002010-11-23T11:55:04.703-05:002,340 WeeksIt's a new week around here. It's a new chapter.<br /><br />John asked me to marry him this weekend, and I said yes.<br /><br />Engagement as a 38 year old widow is much different than it was as a 21 year old girl. This time I have a built-in flower girl and ring bearer. (I actually have two of each, because John's niece and nephew are a big part of our lives, seeing as how they are also my best friend's children...)<br /><br />At 21 years old, I remember coming home to my parents' house and being stressed because we couldn't find a church with a center aisle. I remember being frustrated because I didn't like any of the available reception locations. I remember combing every detail of the actual wedding day - the flowers, the linens on the tables, the dress...everything. We were so into the actual day. Jim had picked a lovely round-cut diamond solitaire ring. It was so traditional and beautiful. Now I have that ring set aside for Rachel for when she's ready to marry.<br /><br />At 38 years old, I called my parents and told them. And then I wrote my in-laws and told them. And then I cried.<br /><br />Not because I'm not happy. I am. John is truly one of a kind. It is my great honor to be engaged to him.<br /><br />I cried for my in-laws, I cried for Jim. I cried for me and the kids and what will never be. I cried for John, knowing what he's facing. After all, he's marrying someone that will always love him, but will also love someone else. I believe that I have enough love in my life that I can give my whole self to John. But I also believe that there is a place inside me for Jim and what we had. When John asked me to marry him, he told me that he wanted to be a father to my kids. He's willing to take on another man's children and treat them as his own. That's a really big deal. And while my kids are totally awesome, they are also totally normal. There's going to be good days and bad, and I'm certain there are going to be days that John wonders what in the world he signed up for. I cried for my parents and my brothers, who all loved Jim as their own family.<br /><br />I cried for John's family, as they will have to adjust to me and two kids. That's a tall order. And I cried because John's mom passed away this summer shortly before we started dating. I knew his mom a little bit through his sister. I've been talking to his mom a lot since we started dating, and more often in the last few weeks. Trying to sort it all out. Letting her know that I love him and that I have good intentions. And I've been talking to Jim. I wondered if the two of them are together in heaven - nodding their heads in approval, or vehemently shaking their heads in a tremendous collective "NO!". So far I haven't been struck by lightening so I take that as a good sign.<br /><br />There's a lot more to think about when you're engaged at 38...and none of it has to do with the flowers or the ring or the actual wedding. It has to do with financial obligation, how we'll adjust in our jobs, whose name the kids and I take (or keep), where we will live and how we'll divide our time. It has to do with being responsible and showing the kids how to manage a marriage based on love. It has to do with melding two completely separate lives and how we mesh strong personalities. It has to do with respecting the people we love.<br /><br />It seems that John and I haven't been dating that long. Just over five months. I wasn't expecting him to ask me to marry him. I had actually had a bad "Jim week" the week before. Missing Jim. I had a nightmare about Jim that made me physically ill. I had a parenting mishap in which I really lost my cool, and John came to my house while I was still trying to recover. Truthfully I was sort of hanging around waiting for John to dump me. If this guy can still love me through the week I had last week, he's got a pretty darn strong constitution.<br /><br />But you know, Jim and I got engaged after only eight months. And for heaven's sakes, I was only 21 years old. Jim and I figured it out. We figured out pretty fast that marriage didn't have anything to do with the actual wedding. Here we are, nearly 20 years later, and I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing. At the beginning of the summer when John and I were just friends, he asked me what I was looking for in a guy. And I told him that, short of sounding like a crystal touting weirdo, I was looking for a feeling...not qualities. I was right on the mark with that statement. It's not whether a guy is tall or has money or has blond hair and blue eyes. It's that sense of adventure. It's the twinkle in his eye. It's the way I feel safe and giddy at the same time. It's how he helps figuratively put my world in order. It's how he accepts me for what and who I am, and I find that I have the ability to do the same with him.<br /><br />Starting once again on something new. It's so exciting and so rife with emotion. We get to go to Chicago soon and pick out my ring. And we get to plan a wedding...and you wouldn't believe the ideas that have been tossed around. And I get to think about a dress (? - yikes!) and flowers. At 21, I would have been totally into those things. (And those of you that know me know I love jewelry, so I'm not going to pretend that I'm not excited about the ring...) But at 38 what I think about most is John and the time I'll get to spend with him. I actually got giddy the other day, thinking about the fact that I'll get 20 years in with him before we're my parents' age. I'll get 30 years in with him before we're his dad's age. I think about looking at his eyes and how they look like his mom's. I think about seeing him laugh. I think about how he can get downright silly with me, which blows my socks off every time...because John could be characterized as many things, but I don't think "silly" is one of them. I think about him lying on the floor reading to the kids. Or him playing the guitar and all of us quiet, relaxed, and enjoying what he can create. I think about Rachel holding his hand and Jake having a good strong male influence in his life. I think about loving someone for the rest of my life. I think about what wedding vows actually mean, and that "In sickness and in health" is not something I will just gloss through when I finally say it again. I think about making his family proud - hopefully that he chose the right person, but also that they see how much I love him. I think about my family and hope that they will embrace him and love him for who he is. I think about resting my head on his shoulder and holding his hand. About how he smells and how warm his hugs are. About the nights we get to sit and talk and have a fire in the fireplace. And the nights I will desert him in favor of hanging with my girlfriends.<br /><br />He did the math. We have about 2,340 weeks together. Give or take a few. I told him he's not allowed to do a countdown because it will make me uptight. Even when we're 80 I want to feel like I still have 2,340 weeks left with him. (Literally I believe we have 2,398 and I got nervous about the two week difference.)<br /><br />John is a remarkable, smart, funny, romantic man. Any day I get to spend with him is a blessing. I am lucky to love him and to be loved by him. My brother Kevin pointed out to me that there's no point in going through this life if we can't be happy. And I believe we have opportunities to create our own happiness. When Jim died, it seemed I would never be happy again. And many of my days in the past three years have been flat out miserable. I will have more sad days, but I'm dedicated to being joyful and creating happiness in my life. I'm dedicated to loving John and committing to that kind of happiness - for me and John, but also for my kids.<br /><br />Thank you, John, for offering me the opportunity to make our own happiness together. For loving me and allowing me to love you. For committing to me for the next 2,340 weeks. I promise to love and appreciate you for the time we have.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-32712625804634432162010-10-19T11:08:00.003-05:002010-10-19T11:35:06.226-05:00SuzySo, today is a great day for this post. You know something weird? I've been contemplating this post for a while. Today is Suzy's birthday - it's the perfect day for it.<br /><br />One of my very best friends is Susan. I personally think that Susan has meticulous taste in friends, because...I'm one of her friends. And I like the crowd that Susan runs with here in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kohler</span> because...I'm part of that crowd. But also because I got to meet one of Susan's best friends who lives in Oregon. That's Suzy. It seems odd that I would write about Susan's friend Suzy, doesn't it? Susan used to live out in California, and Suzy is a friend from way back in the day. (Along with Marie, who I haven't had a chance to meet yet, but you'd better believe I'm going to push for it!)<br /><br />In any case, I met Suzy this spring when she came out to visit Susan. I liked Suzy immediately. This is one hell of a competent woman. She's sharp as a tack, but relaxed at the same time. Suzy's words are carefully chosen. She can talk to anyone. She's got the reflexes and drive of a Type A personality. ...But there's something different. She doesn't come off as Type A. There's nothing about Suzy that would make anyone feel rushed or jumpy. You know what it is? It seems like a lack of judgment on others. She's just...good. (For the record, I can see where she and Susan are good friends. Susan is that way as well.)<br /><br />When I got to meet Suzy, we had an interesting talk about Oregon. She nailed me from the minute she met me and told me (in a very gentle way) that she didn't think <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ashland</span> was exactly my speed. And she just flat out told me she didn't think I'd like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Medford</span>. She was right. At the end of my trip to Oregon, I spent an evening out with Suzy. She gave me a little tour of Portland and brought me to a fabulous wine bar that looked out over the city. My goodness we had fun.<br /><br />To tell you what a mark Suzy had on me, when I mentioned that I was dating furiously, etc. we had a nice talk about it. And then she said "You should start dating John! I love John!" This was AFTER <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">texting</span> with him the whole vacation and AFTER my brother teased me and I realized I might like John as more than a friend. I was so stunned that I stammered out "I...I don't know. I don't know what's going on with that. We're just friends. ...And I don't know what Susan would think of that." Suzy wasn't buying that. Bear in mind, please, that this is my second time ever seeing Suzy. And she said "Kate, I'm sure Susan (her friend, John's sister) is going to be mature enough to handle it."<span style="font-size:78%;"> </span>So Suzy had a distinct hand in putting John and I together as well. The first time I posted a picture of John on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Facebook</span>, my phone rang not 30 minutes later...an Oregon area code. I laughed until tears came out of my eyes and we had a great talk.<br /><br />Some people come into our lives for a lifetime, some for a season, a week, or a day. I am blessed to know Suzy through my good friend Susan. I am delighted that Susan has such awesome friends and that she's got a support network spread out across the country. Suzy has impacted my life in profound ways after meeting *twice*.<br /><br />You're good people, Suzy. I'm honored to know you. Have a very happy birthday today.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-29331510099146298342010-10-12T19:30:00.004-05:002010-10-12T20:31:22.196-05:00OopsiesFirst off, let me say that I believe my therapist is worth every dime, and then some. <br /><br />One of the things I've been working on with my therapist is establishing boundaries. I'm not very good at it. I just tell people whatever they want to know. I don't stand up for myself very often. I rarely tell people if I believe they are doing something wrong. If someone provokes me I often try and make the situation smoother by laughing it off. And to top it off, I have a very self-deprecating sense of humor. My therapist pointed out that we train people how we want to be treated. <br /><br />Lately a couple of people have really offended me with butting into my business and making nasty comments to me. I've laughed off or stayed silent at moments that *really* hurt. But in reality, I'm not setting a good example for my kids when I'm self-deprecating to a fault or when I don't stand up for myself. <br /><br />One of my friends lent me a book about boundaries. Right now, I'm working on maintaining physical boundaries because verbal and mental boundaries are more difficult for me to manage. It's funny because I believe I have a very strong personality, but when push comes to shove I tend to get nervous. I'm generally a peacekeeper. <br /><br />Yesterday I unleashed a little bit of my anger over my lack of boundaries on an unwitting candidate. She asked me how things are going, and as I have for the last three years, I said "Things are really good!" And she mistakenly said "I wish I had your life." <br /><br />Whoa. <br /><br />You wish you had my life? I got hot and said "No you don't." And I paused and said "I would give my right leg to have my husband back. You don't want my life." She got quiet and said "Well, I meant the fun part." Yeah. I know. I know it was an accident. She didn't mean to phrase it that way. <br /><br />And yet, I still feel the need to let people know that it's not all cupcakes and roses here. I still have a gaping hole in my life that will never be fully repaired. I still go to bed at night *alone*. I still have to call a sitter if I want to go get a gallon of milk. I still have to LEAVE my own house if I want a break - because heaven knows my kids aren't old enough to leave without me. I have lost friends over the last three years because I've just been too tired to consistently maintain the relationships and they've dumped me. I hate doing things like picking out pumpkins or a Christmas tree without my spouse. I do go on fun trips and I'm having some fun going out. But I'm going out to meet people because my husband DIED. OF CANCER. I'm having fun dating. But honestly, what I wouldn't give to just have Jim back. That someone who loves me through crazy, moving around the country, childbirth and...crazy. Seriously. It's all I can do to literally mind my own business. It takes all my energy to make it through the day. I look normal like the rest of you on the outside. But I'm so tired. All the time. From doing everything by myself. And if one more moron says to me "I know how you feel - my husband is out of town for the next two weeks." Or even better "Yeah, I know how you feel, my husband works late every night." I may be forced to kill them. Because WHAT THE HECK kind of comparison is that? <br /><br />It's not that I don't care what you're doing or have sympathy for you. It's that I don't care what you're doing because I'm using my energy to try and complete what I'm doing. I am simply trying to survive and give my kids happy, healthy, normal lives. <br /><br />I am dating John now and I am feeling blessed. And so happy. Happy like this for the first time in YEARS. Happy like I was before September 13, 2006. The day Jim was diagnosed. <br /><br />My time with John is glorious and fun and blessed. All THREE MONTHS of it. We're still in the "getting to know you" phase. My date nights with John are not the relaxed, much needed time away that a married couple has. These are actual dates. To try and ascertain if we're compatible or attracted to each other or even interested. That's exhausting. Not the comfort and devotion and pure feeling of relaxation that comes with someone you're committed to. I know he's special, but I also know that he has the ability to decide at any moment that I'm not as special to him, and he could end things. There are still embarrassing moments and things that I wonder if he's normal for tolerating. Like when I mispronounce a word or sing off-key. (I never once sing on-key so he'll have to accept that.) Like if he'll enjoy my kids. Finding someone at 37 with two kids is a totally different ballgame then finding someone at 22. <br /><br />So it was a bit of an "oopsies" that I unleashed my annoyance about boundaries on someone who honestly didn't mean anything wrong. But let me say this: I am working on establishing my boundaries. On not being so self-deprecating. On telling people when they offend me. Right now, I'm just going to avoid any situation that I find annoying or offensive in order to create a much-needed physical boundary as I prepare and draw my mental and verbal boundaries. I deserve that.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-20590970040205488402010-09-24T08:24:00.002-05:002010-09-24T08:46:37.231-05:00September 17Every year I try and make sure I do something meaningful on September 17. This year was no exception. My brother Tom asked if I wanted to meet him in London, England. He was going on business, so we ran around a few days before his meeting started. I thank Tom for such an offer - I wouldn't have thought to do something so special on my own and it was nice to be with Tom to celebrate Jim's life. <br /><br />We had such fun. I arrived there the morning of September 17, jet-lagged but thrilled to be there nonetheless. Stepping off the Tube and into Piccadilly Circus reminded me of the previous trips I'd taken with Jim. The fun and the sense of adventure we'd had. And I wondered what took me so long to get back to Europe. I truly love it. <br /><br />The first time Jim and I went to Europe, we decided to go to Rome after Christmas. I got cheap tickets and called Jim at the office one day. A bit hesitantly I said "Um. You know how we always say we're going to Europe but we never do?" ... [suspicious pause on the other end of the phone] ... "Yes?" ... "Well, I bought us some tickets to Rome. We're going to be there for New Years." ... [sigh] "Okay. That sounds fun!" <br /><br />Jim wasn't sure what he'd signed up for, but when he saw the Colosseum he was off his rocker with excitement. Something about the Colosseum really clicked in his mind (luckily we went to the Colosseum first!) and he realized that this was a really fabulous thing to do. We had a marvelous time in Rome. We chose one major tourist attraction to see per day. But otherwise we hung out in the cafes and little restaurants, ate great food, took walks, shopped, napped, and drank coffee. That was it. A simple trip that was beyond awesome. We saw all the major sights but we didn't try to cram so much in that it wasn't fun. <br /><br />This was my fourth time in London so Tom and I didn't try and see the sights. We walked, talked, shopped, and ate fabulous food. We spent hours at Portobello and Camden Markets, and an entire afternoon looking at books on Charing Cross Road. It was the kind of trip I loved to take with Jim, where we didn't have a schedule. We just did...whatever...and tried to soak it all in. <br /><br />I miss Jim every single day. Literally not a day goes by when I don't feel the ache, the hole in my heart that seems to never shrink. I see Jim reflected in my kids. In my home. I hear his words and think of his soft arms wrapped around me. I so miss him. I hope that I am honoring his memory and keeping him alive for my kids. I have better memories than they do, so I always hope that I appropriately convey to the kids the truly stellar man that their father was. <br /><br />I still miss you every day, Lambchop. I love you. Thanks for the adventures that we had together - they mean so much to me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-78882511985671914962010-09-07T20:27:00.006-05:002010-09-09T14:56:54.007-05:00UpdateA number of people have asked me to update the blog. The last blog I wrote was after an exceptionally frustrating date. It's been a crazy summer, full of events and revelations and even...a new boyfriend. :)<br /><br />So here's the scoop:<br /><br />That date from the "Argh" post was, simply put, the worst date of my entire 2 year career. Worse than the guy who went out with me for a few hours and then asked me to be his "friend with benefits". Worse than the racist. Worse than the guy who lied about being divorced. Worse than the guy with a gaggle of kids who wasn't even separated and asked me out at a bar - then had the gaul to flat out tell me he was still married. The best part about that night was the 2 hour phone call I had with a friend of mine while I waited in the parking lot in my locked car to verify that the coast was clear for me to go home. But, I digress. That's not what this blog is about. <br /><br />This blog is about this summer. The three major things I did this summer:<br />1. I took the kids and went with my folks and one of my brothers to Oregon to check out if I would like to move there. <br />2. The kids and I spent three leisurely weeks up north. <br />3. I dated A LOT. And I met someone special. And I fell in love. <br /><br />Ladies, no scrolling down to read about the love part. ;-) You have to read everything so you have it all in context!<br /><br />So:<br />1. Oregon. Beautiful. Scenic. Hot. Expensive. Hippies. (Sorry Suzy!) And as aforementioned boyfriend calls them "Trustafarians". Basically, rich kids that choose to be homeless because they've devoted their lives to following Phish, smoking [insert drug] and dragging a dirty dog around while begging for money. Hey, I like Phish too - but let's face it, I'm too old and high maintenance to be homeless! <br /><br />Oregon was not for me. More to the point, I didn't believe it was for my kids. I'm not ripping on Oregon. I loved it as a vacation spot. It was just a solid knock in the head that where I've been in the past and where I'm going in the future are two vastly different lifestyles. Ashland reminded me of my neighborhood in Atlanta. I loved that neighborhood. *When I didn't have kids.* Jim was never particularly fond of the hippies, but I always found it funny. This time, I was annoyed at the hippies and their lack of caring for their yards. If you want to hang a giant peace symbol made from Christmas lights, great. But hanging it on a $600,000 house seems a bit...off.<br /><br />Oregon made me appreciate Kohler. I've always had a bit of an "I'm too cool for school in Kohler" attitude. Jim loved the one-horse town feel of it. He loved the Stepford feel. He loved that all the yards are neatly trimmed and that they have a sense of community. He loved that he would be able to walk the kids to school and see many, many people we know on the way to school or out and about in the village. I used to scoff at Jim and tell him he needed to toughen up - that Kohler was a gross misrepresentation of the real world and that the people here are too sheltered. Um...I don't know. Maybe I've been living in Shangri-La for too long, but...I like it when I see people I know. I like it that I can walk my kids to school. (Although I don't because we're always running late!) I like it that everyone's yard is neatly trimmed. I L.O.V.E. it that the kids in Kohler can run around outside for hours on end and play without fear. And I love it that my kids and I are sheltered in the sweet bubble that is Kohler. <br /><br />SO, that's not to say that my dreams of moving are completely laid to rest; rather that I've tabled them for the time being. I'm happy with where I am and what I'm doing. I can't beat the location of my house, my neighbors, my neighbors kids, or my support system here. <br /><br />2. Three leisurely weeks up north were nothing short of fabulous. We ate cookies. We played on the beach. Took pontoon boat rides. Saw friends. Drank wine. Ate drippy soft-serve ice cream cones. My friend Sara came to visit. My three weeks were cut a teensy bit short by the untimely passing of a friend. Sara went home early so I could go to the service. My friend's entire family has helped me and my kids through Jim's passing. It made me reevaluate my path. It made me wonder what my next steps in life should be. It made me mourn for my friend, for his wife, for their kids. It made me sad for their dreams lost. And it made me revisit my own dreams lost. I cried, really hard, for a single night. Aforementioned boyfriend came to the service with me and witnessed my unbearable range of emotion. My nervous laugh that is loud and inappropriate. Tears rife with grief. Anger. <br /><br />After thinking it through, I decided that:<br />1. I will be to my girlfriend as a few have been to me - persistent. I needed that. I'm hoping she'll take me up on offers. If she really doesn't want to, I'm hoping she'll tell me to get lost. But I needed persistence to keep going, and some people really did that for me. <br />2. I have three things to focus on this year - my kids, my home, and the Disney marathon. I'm running (well, Judi is running, I'm limping/walking) with Judi in memory of Jim. She and Jim were going to run it together. Heaven knows I can't run it with her, but I can be there to celebrate with her at the end. Or...I can be there to celebrate with her three hours after she finishes! The kids and my home - my goal is to get it together for my kids. And have a home that I'm proud of. And that means cleaning up and getting organized. I'm hoping all this running and organizing will put me in a good place for parenting. <br />3. I will no longer be a chicken. I will tell people how I feel about them. I will put myself out there even more than I have before. And God knows I'm pretty much all out there emotionally. Over the last 3 years I've not been good about calling people, contacting friends, etc. It's something I used to work on that I'm no longer doing. I put many of my relationships on the back burner to focus on what was immediately in front of me. I feel ready to continue on. <br /><br />So the three weeks were...fun-filled, wonderful, and although tragedy struck my friends' lives, I hope it's made me a better person going forward. It certainly gave me pause to reevaluate my life. <br /><br />Here's an enormous thank-you to my parents, who watched the kids. Played with the kids. And gave me and the kids tons of love. <br /><br />3. Are you ready for number 3? I can think of at least one person that is partly covering her face as she reads this with one squinted eye. God love her, that person is one of my very best friends, Susan. <br /><br />This has been one hell of a fun summer. I've dated no less than 5 guys. All of them interesting. All of them fun in their own right. After Eric and I broke up, I wasn't ready for another relationship. So I dated around and made it very clear to each of the guys that I was just looking to get out of the house - I didn't want anything serious. <br /><br />But then...I started going out with Susan's brother, John. At first we were friends. Because he was single and I was single and we certainly had enough to commiserate about regarding the dating scene. I first met John at my kegger. He helped prep for the party and we had a nice talk about dating. It was John that I talked to for two hours after my awful date from the "Argh" post. <br /><br />I knew something may have been different in Oregon. John and I had already hung out a couple of times, and we were texting back and forth. That's not so unusual - I'm all about texting. It's easier. But my brother Tom teased me and pointed out that I would get all excited when John texted me. Tom actually did a little skit about me and my texts from John, and I started to wonder if there was something more to it than I realized. Then I noticed that I was basically hanging on my phone, waiting for him to text me. And that when he did, I felt a thrill run through me. OVER A TEXT. Aw. Shoot. <br /><br />Before I got back we agreed to go out two nights in a row. I was delighted. And when we did go out, he asked me to date him exclusively. We did a three week "trial" in which we were supposed to get everything out in the open. He knows I'm neurotic. He knows I'm a hypochondiac. He knows I have a horrific temper. He knows I'm moody and high maintenance. He knows I miss Jim every day, and that I plan to celebrate Jim for the rest of my life. I just put it all out there. Because honestly, that's the only way I know. I learned from Reid (the Yoda of honesty) - if I can't be 100% honest, then I'm hurting me and the other person in the relationship. 100% honesty might be painful for a moment, but misrepresentation and lies can be painful for a lot longer, if not a lifetime. In any case, I decided not to be a chicken with John. I put it all out there and let him know how I feel. <br /><br />How do I feel? In short, I love him. <br /><br />He makes me excited. He makes me calm. He makes me right. He makes me shut up and listen. Not because he commands it, but because I want to. (We all know that right there is a feat in itself.) He makes me laugh. And shake my head. He makes me think about the future. When I get one of his texts, I feel a thrill. When I see him, my heart pounds and I grin like a fool. When he leaves, I'm utterly depressed. I hang on his every word. A lot of them I have to look up in the dictionary, which I find embarrassing and humorous. <br /><br />He's not like Jim, except in one way. He is, as Jim was, a magnificent human being. I am honored to spend time with him. I know something is different about John the way I knew something was different about Jim. <br /><br />I can't say what will happen. I know John loves me. I don't know how much or if it has the staying power that Jim and I had. I am fearful, of course, that I am offering this out to John, Susan, and the world, and that it will fall flat. But I can't ever know if I don't try. If I don't put myself out there. If I don't learn. If it falls flat, I'm a resilient optimist. I'll try again - with no less abandon than I'm using now. Because that's who I am, take it or leave it. I hope to high heaven that he'll take it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-39915247587328955542010-06-03T21:46:00.002-05:002010-06-03T22:20:03.082-05:00ARGHRemember that blog I wrote that said that dating now was only slightly better than dating in college because at least now I can afford to drink beer out of bottles rather than plastic cups? Yeah, I was pretty much spot-on with that assessment. <br /><br />Whatever you think might look fun about dating, you're wrong. <br /><br />Dating at my age SUCKS. Now, maybe it sucks because I might have a teensy chip on my shoulder about the fact that I'm dating at 37 when I actually chose correctly and married the greatest guy ever at 22. I might be a little bitter about the fact that what's available to me - and worse yet - what's *attracted* to me scales the charts - sometimes in the 50+ age range. Really? A 56 year old man wrote me on Match.com the other day. 56. That's only 7 years younger than my DAD. <br /><br />You may ask yourself if I'm so bitter and annoyed about the whole dating thing why I continue to try it. Well, indulge me a moment to explain my philosophy. The way I see it, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. And I'm certainly not in a hurry to meet my prince (because let's be honest, we already know I've met him and he's passed away), but I'm dealing with a relatively shallow gene pool here. There aren't that many true choices. <br /><br />People keep telling me I'm not going to meet my guy on Match.com. Duh. I agree. But where would you suggest I meet him? In a bar? I'm certainly not going to meet him at the kids' school. Kohler is the most married village in the continental US. Possibly in the world. In nursing school? Well...let's consider the vast majority of the students in nursing school. I can promise you, the demographic doesn't scream of 37 year old men that are on the prowl for a widow with two kids. <br /><br />My philosophy isn't so much about the frog/prince thing, as it is about just getting out of the house. I might go on a horrible date, but I might meet someone else I like while waiting for my date. A cool single girl that could be a friend. My date could be a bomb but he might know someone that would be perfect for me. Or he could be a wonderful guy that is practically perfect in every way - but more like a friend. (Hello Mary Poppins and Reid B.) I could meet a guy like Eric. Wonderful, but the circumstances aren't right. When I leave the house and go on a great date or a horrifically bad date, I'm getting dressed up. Because heaven knows some days all I can muster is yesterday's mascara, a ponytail and the baggy jeans my mother hates. When I go out I'm expending energy on another adult. I'm going to learn something new about someone new. I'm weeding out what I don't want and what I do want. I'm gaining a new appreciation for my late husband. I even believe that in some ways, I'm expressing that I believe in love because I had it so good at one time. <br /><br />It's easy to tell me to sit back and relax and wait for the stork to deliver a guy that was as perfect as Jim. (It's particularly easy to say that from the snugness of a marriage.) But the reality is that I met Jim by taking a risk and going to the party that night I asked him out. And I took a risk by asking him out. I don't expect to find another Jim. I was literally a kid when I met Jim. I am a different person and I'm looking for different things now. But I do know that my personality is not the type to say "I give up. God will deliver magic at my door." I think God gives us opportunities to make things happen in our lives. I expect to take those opportunities and try and make a little chicken salad out of chicken shit. (A la the movie "Cousins".)<br /><br />I'm in another phase. Burning the candle at both ends. Dating. I have a busy summer planned for me and the kids. This is my "I plan to run away so I don't have to sit with my awful feelings" phase. And you know what? I sort of feel entitled to it. Dating is exhausting and it is hard work. But I think it's impossible to forge ahead in any area of our lives without a little elbow grease. You might argue that I could use that potential elbow grease to clean my house...but that doesn't satisfy the inherent need I have to get out of the house. To socialize with adults. And to dare to dream that I might once again have someone to love like I love Jim.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-50607041797624060012010-05-28T07:54:00.002-05:002010-05-28T07:59:17.957-05:0041Wow. I would have teased him and told him he's old. <br /><br />I miss him every day. My life isn't the same. Even the happiest of moments are marred by the fact that he's not here to share them. <br /><br />Lambchop, I love you and I miss you. The kids miss you. Your family misses you. My family misses you. Your friends miss you. <br /><br />I sincerely wish you could come home and celebrate with us.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-78838749335033297962010-05-26T06:58:00.003-05:002010-05-26T07:11:45.063-05:00CorrectionsTwo corrections from yesterday's blog. I know I don't often make corrections but I did think this warrented commentary:<br /><br />1. A shout out to Jen from Custer, SD, who actually donated all 100 of the brats we cooked up for the kegger. And for loving on Eric, who didn't know many people. Katie M., you also get props for that one! <br /><br />2. In the paragraph where I mentioned friends that helped, I wrote: thanks to Susan and Ken, Amy, Lisa and John. How I should have written that was: thanks to Susan and Ken, John K., Amy and Lisa. <br /><br />Since Jim died one of the biggest things I've worked on in fixing my own personality is not to judge. But please indulge me for a moment when I say that Lisa's ex-husband would not have helped set up. Or attended the party. He needs help. ;-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-26023075553346638062010-05-24T20:19:00.002-05:002010-05-24T20:57:41.864-05:00Beer RevelationsThis past weekend I had my kegger. Yep. A real keg party. Not quite as classless as college, but a real kegger nonetheless. I sent out paper invites with a picture of a keg on it. I had the yard all decorated, 100 brats, beer pong, quarters and flip cup. I had 2 kegs, 8 cases of beer, 2 gallons of kamikaze, and 75 jello shots. Not to mention the rest of the food and drink. It was nuts. 100 people came. And had fun!<br /><br />We also did a benefit walk and brat fry Saturday morning for Tara - the little girl who has cancer. (www.teamtara.net for donations!) It was seriously amazing. During the walk, Eric and I did a bit of the hike with my friend Amy. I questioned aloud how it was possible that I was having a kegger at 37 years old. And she gave me a wonderful compliment by saying that it was a party lots of people would like to have, but are just too scared. (I pointed out that there's a thin line between scared and stupid!) When I really thought about it, I decided that when Jim was alive, he was my on/off switch. If I wanted to have a really big party, Jim would have let me. He would have kept me calm (or at least tried). He would have helped me set up and he would have been a wonderful host. But more often than not, when I came up with a hairbrained scheme like having a kegger, Jim would let me run through the possible scenarios and then either shoot the idea down, or wait it out until I saw something shiny, went in another direction, and forgot about my idea. But Jim died, and now I'm dating Eric. And when I said to Eric "maybe I should have a kegger...", Eric said "GREAT IDEA!" And then I actually followed through. So...in short...I blame Eric. :)<br /><br />I was so nervous before the party that I basically let it ruin my day. I was sick to my stomach. Eric tried to calm me down. My friends Tom and Deitmar came and help me set up. Eric did a ton of work to help me get everything ready. Then more of my friends showed up to help me prepare and place food, set out cups, etc. I was so terrified that for the first half of the party I didn't speak to anyone for more than around three minutes. I was just too scared and I wanted to make sure I got to greet everyone. Halfway through the party I calmed down. I looked around. I realized that the party was a success. And then I relaxed and enjoyed the party. I spoke to people for ever so slightly more than three minutes. I drank some beer. And I had fun.<br /><br />It's fun to rehash the evening with everyone. It was good to cut loose and have fun, and see so many other people having fun. It's good to hear the stories and share my own. It was a once in a lifetime party that I truly had fun throwing. I was delighted to see so many friends. It meant a lot to me.<br /><br />Thanks to so many people who made my party work. Eric, first and foremost. Amy and Todd, for the beer. Liz and Tom and Deitmar and Cassandra for all the hard work - setting up, offering tables and chairs, and clean up. Susan and Ken, Amy, Lisa and John for setting up, making me laugh, and all the prep. Rob and Ann for the late night beer run. Thanks to all my friends who brought food. Thanks to those who showed up although they knew very few people. And thanks to those who came to party, drink beer, and have fun with me. You have no idea what it meant to me. It may have seemed like just a keg party, but it was an awesome night that I did "on my own" - my first big huge party without Jim. It was an accomplishment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-25616882865071807672010-05-03T22:12:00.002-05:002010-05-03T23:21:58.367-05:00Cancer is invasive in so many waysToday I went to the doctor to discuss some issues I've been dealing with for over a year. Honestly, by the time I got there today I was completely torqued up and absolutely convinced I had cancer. I was completely exhausted yesterday, but sleeping last night wasn't much of an option until I'd stayed up so late that I was positively ill.<br /><br />Jim died over two years ago, but to me, the cancer is still so invasive in my life. If I have an internal pang, gurgle or lump, I FREAK. Now, to be fair - I was a bit of a hypochondriac to begin with. I have recognized most of my illnesses over the last two years to be largely psychosomatic. I finally called the doctor last week when I realized that what I'm dealing with is in fact not psychosomatic. Never before Jim would cancer have entered into my mind.<br /><br />My friend Reid stayed up and chatted with me last night because I was freaking so badly. Reid has a great sense of humor - he can always get me to laugh. He told me not to listen to my brain - it's nuts. Which we all know to be true. This morning he tried to tell me that again and get me to laugh, but I was so uptight that I got angry and told him that my brain isn't nuts - it's experienced. Logic tells me that anything going on in my body is not related to cancer. But my brain takes that word and twists it.<br />Logic: You don't have cancer. That's a swollen lymph node.<br />Brain: <span style="font-style: italic;">WHY WOULD YOU HAVE A SWOLLEN LYMPH NODE IN YOUR ABDOMEN?!?!?!?</span><br /><br />Logic: That could mean anything. It's probably swollen from you poking at it.<br />Brain: <span style="font-style: italic;">Or, it could be just the tip of the iceberg. That's probably the only part you can feel of a tumor that has spread. You know they call colon cancer the silent killer. </span><br /><br />Logic: The odds are really against you having cancer of any sort. You don't have a family history and you're only 37.<br />Brain: <span style="font-style: italic;">Um, DUH, Jim didn't have a family history and he was only 37!</span><br /><br />Logic: You just got checked two months ago and they didn't find anything unusual.<br />Brain: <span style="font-style: italic;">You won't be able to handle chemo. Your kids will be without any parents. You can't do it. Come to think of it, you haven't gone to the bathroom in a couple of days. Is that a sign of a blockage?</span><br /><br />...Logic never wins these internal arguments. Ever. And these arguments go on all day long, every day I think I have a health scare.<br /><br />And I claim that I was crazy when I lived in <span style="font-style: italic;">Charlotte</span>? It's not Kohler that's making me crazy, it's cancer. Today the doctor put my mind at ease. She offered me an ultrasound, not because I need it medically but because she knew it might be the only thing that quiets my brain. She told me that if I'm losing sleep over it, I should call her and we'll do the ultrasound. ~ Trust me ~ I'm losing sleep over it. But I decided not to get the ultrasound for now. I might call and beg her for it next week. But today I decided that cancer is getting the best of me if I let it dictate my every thought and action. If I let cancer dictate when I should worry or when I get a medical test, I'm letting cancer continue to ruin my life. Cancer took away what was most important to me. At the time I was so angry and I screamed at cancer and told it that it would never beat us. I still don't want cancer to beat us. I don't think it will.<br /><br />I reclaim my brain from the thoughts that infect it, even if I have to do it moment to moment. Cancer - now hear this: you don't get to control my thoughts. I do. I won't have the ultrasound just because you try and scare me. I will listen to the professionals, try and take care of myself, and know that the odds are against you, cancer. It's only a matter of time before we'll all be inoculated against you. Until then, keep your invasive, noxious thoughts to yourself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-31009371330844823732010-04-26T13:11:00.002-05:002010-04-26T13:42:53.000-05:0040 Days of YogaIt's another beautiful day in Wisconsin. I thought I'd update the blog to let everyone know that I am, in fact, not sitting in the basement huddled in a corner nursing a bottle of ripple.<br /><br />The blog is very cathartic for me. Thank you to those of you who wrote or responded in some way. It means a lot to me. Once I got it all off my chest I started feeling better. Don't get me wrong - I am still very upset about the situation and I am hurting for that family. But I didn't want everyone to think that I'd completely come apart at the seams, either. :)<br /><br />I have been doing a yoga experiment. It was originally supposed to be a plan wherein I change my entire life through yoga, changing my eating habits, meditation, and journaling. So far I've managed to do some yoga, lots of meditation, a little journaling - but the changing my eating habits thing has gone right out the window. (Obviously eating right isn't my focus if I told you that I went through a box of Wheat Thins, string cheese, and a bottle of wine in a single day.)<br /><br />In any case, the meditation and journaling have led me to an interesting realization, which is that perhaps I am not living my ideal life here in Kohler. This life was ideal for me when Jim was here. But it isn't anymore. Kohler, in all it's adorableness, is rife with married couples. Which is wonderful, but it's not exactly a dating mecca. Although there is SO much to love about Wisconsin, the winters really aren't my thing. One of my meltdowns this winter included a school day when it seemed EVERYONE'S husband was out scraping snow off their cars. Jim would have been out there in a heartbeat. But, he's gone now. We worked really hard to set up the life we have here. This was our ideal. But now I'm on my own with two kids. Everywhere I look is another reminder of what I've lost.<br /><br />Eric and I recently took a trip out to San Francisco to visit my brother Tom. I love it out in California. The weather is always gorgeous. Admittedly, Tom leads a totally different life than me. He lives in North Beach. His apartment looks out on to Alcatraz. Literally, it's amazing. I wouldn't want to live in the city with two kids. I did that in Atlanta with Jim and Rachel, and I really didn't relish it. So I started looking for some place to move that has better weather, a reasonable cost of living, and that would be good for my kids. The real factor, though, is that I need to find a place that my parents will consider as well.<br /><br />I meditated on it quite a bit. Rachel is named after my Great-Aunt Rachel. She lives in southern Oregon. My mom is always raving about Auntie Rachel and her cousin Stephanie. I wondered why they like it there and I started doing my research. I contacted Stephanie and she and her husband Joe have given me all sorts of information. More importantly, when I called mom and dad and asked if they would ever consider a move to Oregon, they said "Sure!" I nearly fell over. After all, their retirement home is here.<br /><br />Even more amazing? I wrote my brother Kevin and his wife Becky to see if they would ever consider leaving the Twin Cities in favor of Oregon, and they said "Sure!"<br /><br />I made reservations in a cute little town to rent a house this summer. We're ALL going to check it out. I can't wait.<br /><br />I don't know that Oregon is the change I'm looking for. I could get out there and hate it. I've never been there before. I actually worried that I would be running away from my life here (see? sometimes I'm rational) and I spoke to the therapist about it. You know what she said? She said "Kate, it actually sounds like a very rational plan. In fact, if you like it, if I was you I'd consider moving before next summer." She said it sounds less like I'm running away from something and more like I'm running toward a new life. She said that as long as I stay here, there's a chance I will hold out hope that I could resume my old life. Yes, I get that. I hold that hope <span style="font-style: italic;">every single day</span>.<br /><br />I'm on Day 22 of the 40 Days experiment. I haven't lost a single pound. But I'm trying new things. I stumble and fall, then I get myself back up and try again. I'm meditating and going to class. If I shed a lifestyle that seems to be weighing me down, does that count as losing weight?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-51014840546493329632010-04-22T13:16:00.002-05:002010-04-22T14:20:45.711-05:00Self-Destruct ModeWord spread around Kohler like wildfire this week. A new case of cancer. A child. It's someone I know. <br /><br />The first day I found out, my heart sank and I cried. I called my mom and I tried to problem solve and think of things to help the family. Then I cried more. <br /><br />Yesterday I got progressively worse. I literally ate everything I had in the house. I wrote my friend an email that I hope was encouraging. It literally took me hours to compose because I was so out of my wits. (Plus, I had to stop a couple of times to stuff my face with Wheat Thins and string cheese.) I cried a lot.<br /><br />Eric visits me on Wednesdays. I tried to chase him off once and said I wasn't very good company and that he shouldn't come up from Milwaukee. <br /><br />Then I tried again and told him not to come because I was planning to open the wine. <br /><br />I gave in and opened the wine. By the time Eric got to my house, I was feeling more than good. We'd done a webcam call with the Marventanos wherein I'd made it clear that probably one glass of wine wasn't where I'd stopped. And I spoke with my friend Lisa on the phone and I'm sure I was a mess then too. <br /><br />Then I started to cry. I just cried and cried. I tried to chase Eric away, but he didn't leave. I just sat in his arms and cried. I cried because it's not fair. I cried because it's tough to explain chemo to an adult, let alone a child. I cried because I can only pretend to know how those parents are feeling. I cried for my own children. I cried for the utter lack of control in life. I cried for my dreams lost. For my children's confusion about why they don't have a father. I cried for my friend's future - I know the child will be healed. But I also know that if the child has a runny nose or a loose tooth or stubs a toe, they are going to *freak* mentally and worry that it's cancer. I cried for the rumors and the annoying pitying looks. (The mother has already set up a blog, which I think is smart, as I found it to be the most forthright way of disbanding the rumor mill.) I cried for the feeling of being completely overwhelmed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I cried because I know what the medical bills and the paperwork will look like. I cried because my daughter (who is in first grade) said "Are you crying because {Child Smith} is sick? I heard people talking about it on the playground today." How is it possible that the kids at school are discussing it? Or that cancer is even a part of their realities?<br /><br />Truthfully, I cried because I gave in and went for the wine.<br /><br />Eric tried to tell me time and time again that today is a new day. He's right. I get to start over each day and try again. It's amazing the damage that self-destruct mode does. I let it absolutely ruin an entire day. I couldn't rally enough to do my hair or put on makeup. I tried to be productive but burned out after 2 hours. Rachel didn't have her homework done for school. I made an awful dinner. I forgot about our webcam call with the Marventanos because I'd already started the wine by the time the designated hour rolled around. I hung on my kids all day, like a wet blanket, telling them I love them. (Which Jake will accept; Rachel can tend to get annoyed with that kind of clingyness...) The house was a disgusting mess by the time we went to bed. I didn't wash the dishes or pick up a single thing. I just shut out the lights and left it all. I didn't have the energy to put sheets on my bed. I just slept on the mattress pad. <br /><br />Things snowball. Sometimes it seems less like a snowball and more like an avalanche. <br /><br />Today is a beautiful new day in Wisconsin. It's a chance for me to begin again. I am going to try to switch out of self-destruct mode and begin again, with the hope that I can proceed positively in this life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-20156616653275591662010-03-14T18:22:00.004-05:002010-03-14T20:20:19.752-05:00...And the fog liftsLast week was by far my worst week of 2010. I'm expecting to have more. But I'm expecting to have less than I did in 2009. I'm expecting to have at least half of what I did in 2007-2008. <br /><br />My friend Emily sent me a note on Facebook and mentioned that I needed to let some things go. That I shouldn't expect to do everything in a straight line - that it's okay to dance, move, zig zag and weave through life. I do have some major control issues. Yes, sir. I certainly do. I do believe that some (if not most) of my depression stems from my control issues. I'm not getting anything done. It's hard to focus. So I half-a$% everything. It's frustrating. <br /><br />What she pointed out was that she's really great at some things. Pretty good at others. And then there are things she just totally sucks at. And she's okay with that. Oh, to be that...cool. When I left my therapist's office the week before last, my therapist hugged me and said "Kate...take it *easy* on yourself!". Well I wasn't really listening. I mean, I was. Because I like what my therapist says to me. But when Emily wrote and said that it's okay to totally suck at some things, I laughed. I could relate to that statement. <br /><br />I know it's okay to have cereal for dinner. I know it's okay to let some things go. But part of my depression last week stemmed from the realization that I haven't actually improved things at home - I've just outsourced more. I now have a cleaning woman and a yard service. Those are the two things I absolutely despise doing. Lots of other families in Kohler have someone clean their house for them. I'm not sure why it's a hangup for me, except to say that I was raised by the world's most perfect stay-at-home-mom that was a marathoner, mowed the lawn, cleaned the house and always had time to make real dinners, bake real cookies, and spend time with us kids. I can't keep up with everything. I'm not a dive-into-grief-by-being-ultra-organized kind of girl. I'm more of a dive-into-grief-by-being-crabby-and-sad kind of girl. Crabby and sad do not equate to a clean house and perfectly cooked meals for me. They equate to girlscout cookies and wine. <br /><br />Despite my mood last week, I did get some things done. And I started a few things I've been meaning to do and haven't for around two years. I managed to pull out of my mood by this weekend. Friday night I went out to a movie with my friends Liz and Tom, and Eric. It was fun. We went for a drink afterward and it was nice to get dressed up and go out. Saturday I did two things I haven't done in years. Eric came over and we made a dinner out of Cooking Light. I think the last time I did that, Jim and I made a pork tenderloin BBQ. (ie. Jim was still healthy and able to grill out...so at the very least it was probably 3 1/2 to 4 years ago.) The dinner Eric and I made was fabulous. Mustard pork chops, mashed sweet potatoes and steamed green beans. It was yum. And I made a Gooey Butter Cake. I can't honestly remember the last time I made a Gooey Butter Cake. It's my Aunt Kate's recipe, and it's seriously awesome. It's happiness and fat in a 13x9 pan. It's one of those things - I always felt like there was no point in making real desserts unless Jim was here. Cupcakes - no problem. But a real dessert? What for? <br /><br />Wednesday it will have been 2 1/2 years. Where in the world does the time go? It seems like yesterday since he died. It seems like it's been forever since he died. I definitely seem to live in Dog Years since he died. One week seems like a lifetime. It was an odd week. It was my closest week to how I felt since he died. I couldn't get a handle on anything. I wandered the house at night. I couldn't watch tv. Couldn't focus. My patience was short. I didn't sleep well - I tossed and turned and I had nightmares about cancer, among other things. I smiled and looked happy when I saw people in public but I was just dead on the inside. My jaw and teeth hurt from clamping my teeth at night. <br /><br />There's nothing I can do but wait this out. So far, things seem better. It was a good weekend. Tomorrow kicks off a new week. I love and loathe St. Patrick's Day now. It used to be my favorite holiday. I guess it still is. But I would much prefer it if it wasn't the 1/2 year marker of Jim's passing. 2 1/2 years. When he died I didn't honestly know if I could survive 2 1/2 days without him. I am surviving. I'm hanging on. There's a light at the end of every tunnel. I see the light. I know it will get better. Last week was dark, but this week I'm catching up with the light. I can do it. It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be what I can manage. And I'm trying to remember what Emily and my therapist said - it's okay to totally suck at some things.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-65333653238240817382010-03-09T21:10:00.003-05:002010-03-09T21:12:16.403-05:00Funeral BluesAt the risk of being cliche, I'm posting the W.H. Auden poem. It's so...fitting. I've been tempted to post it before but I always thought it was too negative. Well, that's where I am today. <br /><br />Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,<br />Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,<br />Silence the pianos and with muffled drum<br />Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.<br /><br />Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead<br />Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.<br />Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,<br />Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.<br /><br />He was my North, my South, my East and West,<br />My working week and my Sunday rest,<br />My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;<br />I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.<br /><br />The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,<br />Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,<br />Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;<br />For nothing now can ever come to any good.<br /><br />W.H. AudenUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-52125913791607292552010-03-04T18:26:00.003-05:002010-03-04T19:53:00.528-05:00The "me" I always wanted to beChildhood was not my bag. Don't get me wrong - I had a great childhood growing up. My parents are awesome. My home was a safe haven where I could be who ever I wanted. I was raised in a very comfortable home where I very rarely had to do without. If ever. My mom stayed home and I swear it, there were cookies and milk waiting for us every day when we got home. Despite much teasing from my brothers and me, my mom packed us a lunch every day that had all four food groups represented. I wasn't a "hot lunch" kind of girl. I wanted something from home. My mom literally made my lunch every day all the way through high school. My dad was the kind of dad that taught us to drive. He went to every one of our swim meets after being away on business all week. They'd sit all day in a sweltering hot pool area to watch me lose my one or two events. The hardest part of my childhood was the fact that we moved every two years or so with my dad's job - in the end I think that worked out in my favor because I'm able to make friends with a brick wall at this point. <br /><br />Anyway, my point is, I had a great home life. But I just never...liked being a kid. I never got comfortable. It never seemed right. Even when I was in high school I'd look around and think "Ugh. Another day in another place where I don't fit in." I talked to my friend Tom the other night and he asked if I was going to our class reunion. 20 years this year. Wow. Um, no. I won't be going. Tom asked me why people call me Kate now instead of Kathleen. All through high school my name was Kathleen. So I started explaining...<br /><br />No one (besides my family) really *got* me until I hit college. In grade school I was a dork. In high school they thought I was fake. Or bitchy. Or...I don't know. But I know they didn't like me. I hit college and ... magic. They got me. My roommate my freshman year told me my name was too long. So we changed it to Kate. Just like that - my life started. Somehow shedding the name Kathleen was like shedding my childhood and I was suddenly the person I was meant to be. Or, more to the point, I was the person I always was...but more people got it. It seemed right. Now I r.e.a.l.l.y. dislike being called Kathleen. (Except by my family - they're allowed.) <br /><br />I went to see the therapist yesterday and I tried to explain some of my relationship with Jim. She was able to very accurately pinpoint some things for me that I have not been able to articulate. So here's more on the story: I met Jim in college. So he never knew me as anything but Kate. And when I met Jim - more of the pieces of my life fell into place. It was almost like I was dyslexic on life before I met Jim. I was getting by, but not at optimum performance. He sort of...relaxed my brain and unscrambled life for me. It really was like that. Jim got me. He knew me. He knew me and put up with me. More than that. He knew me and loved me. Jim's love made everything right in my world. Everything made sense. There was a reason for everything. We made goals together. We talked about...everything. Jim was NOT the great communicator. So when I say that what I actually mean is that I talked about everything and Jim listened and contributed something significant when I paused my chattering for a second. Jim and I were a great team. I think I've mentioned before - he was my rock. He kept me tethered to the earth. And in turn, I think I dragged Jim into doing a lot of fun things that he probably wouldn't have done on his own. I was in charge of making friends. I was in charge of our social life, vacations, food and parties. Basically, I got to do all the fun stuff that Jim just didn't want to deal with. Jim was in charge of our house, yard care, and...all things stable or roots-like. All that stuff I didn't want to deal with. I could be my flaky self with Jim. I could be the fun one. I could be...me. And he loved me anyway. <br /><br />I was trying to explain all this to the therapist and I just started to cry. Nothing seems right in the world. There's no purpose. I know I'm supposed to keep going and doing for my kids. But just like in high school - none of this makes sense anymore. What am I just treading through life for? I'm not really living. I'm just surviving. I'm just making it day to day. Every morning I dread getting up. Another day when I function but really have no idea what's going on. You can't tell by looking at me that my world doesn't make sense, just like you can't tell by looking at someone that they have dyslexia. Every morning when I'm lying there in bed, dreading getting up, I try and give myself a pep talk... "Today I'm going to be the "me" I always wanted to be." I try and be responsible. To follow through on the tasks that I dread. To make the calls I'm supposed to make. To make my kids lunches and clean the house and do the laundry and study and volunteer at the school. To pay the bills, shovel the walk, take out the trash, change lightbulbs and cook balanced healthy meals. But a lot of days (read: every day) I get to about 4:00 pm and I just can't do another thing. I literally can't make myself go another inch. <br /><br />So I'm telling her this and I'm sobbing. And she takes a long pause and says "Kate, you're completely exhausted. You said yourself that you really stepped it up and you were the responsible one when Jim got sick. And you've been responsible since he died. You are experiencing something of an identity crisis. Now you can't be just you. You have to be Jim, too." When she said that I really got messy. Because THAT is why I'm so tired. That's why even if I take a vacation it's not enough. I still have to come back and be two people. If I take the vacation with my kids I don't even get to leave and be me. I have to be both of us the whole time. <br /><br />THIS IS NOT THE LIFE I PLANNED. Man, I was smart at 22. I chose someone who filled in everything I was missing. I imagine I did that for Jim. (At least I like to think I did!) We created a life that had a natural division of labor as we saw fit. Jim's side of the load was r-e-a-l-l-y heavy, but it was a fit for him. If I was the one who died, there's a strong possibility that he'd go to work every day. He'd feed the kids and get by. He'd manage the house and the grass would be cut. He'd be able to keep up with that stuff. But he wouldn't have the group of friends I have. He wouldn't be setting up little playdates for the kids. He would keep in contact with his best buddies from out of town, but making friends and having a social circle would not be his deal. That's not to say Jim wasn't fun. He most certainly was. He was the wittiest guy I knew and *everyone* loved him. But really putting himself out there was not Jim's forte. <br /><br />So I'm waking up every day. And I'm not being the "me" I always wanted to be. I'm being me and Jim. And lemme tell ya, trying to fill Jim's shoes totally sucks. Jim was larger than life. He was responsible. He was a rock. He was a force to be reckoned with. And I was always happy being...me. Flaky fun Kate. I imagine that Jim was willing to put up with my flakiness for the fun. He loved that I got so excited about silly stuff. More people get me now. I love that. I really do. It's wonderful to be an adult. I wouldn't trade a second of what has happened in my life. It's made me a better person. But I miss having Jim here to help me relax my brain and unscramble life. I miss having him to lean on. I miss dragging him to things that he wasn't sure he wanted to do. I miss him. And I miss being fun.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-64204562141854867212010-02-23T09:35:00.003-05:002010-02-23T10:16:34.004-05:00Word of GraceI'm back at church, you know. I dropped off at the beginning of last summer. I got sort of angry and bitter. I said I wasn't mad at God, but maybe I was. <br /><br />I wasn't raised in a religion. My folks believe in God, but they decided when I was a kid that as long as we know who God is and what he means that we would find God in our own way. (Mom and Dad, correct me if I'm wrong on that.) My Dad always says he finds he's closest to God in nature. To be sure, their home up in the northwoods is something of a sanctuary where I believe they both have found the peace, renewal, and spirit that is God. <br /><br />Jim was raised Presbyterian. He always said that he thought he got core values from the church. But far beyond that, he got a sense of community. His church was really awesome. We spent our marriage trying different churches - looking for something that resembled the church and the pastor that he had as a child. Because I wasn't raised in a religion, I didn't feel a pressing need to get into a church - I've always believed I had a great relationship with God and didn't need a church to feel it or to talk to God. <br /><br />When we hit Word of Grace, we knew we'd hit home. Pastor Kirby...spoke to me. The atmosphere...spoke to me. The coffee bar, the band, the Sunday school - all were things I could relate to. But you know what meant the most? The people. I think a good pastor fosters that. The people at Word of Grace are genuinely happy to see you. They are just so dang NICE! It's a sense of community. I love it. <br /><br />So I'd become disenchanted, and then Pastor Kirby took a job in Oklahoma and I was *really* annoyed. Um, hello? Does he think it's okay to just up and leave after 19 years at this church? Huh. Well okay, if you want to be closer to family, etc. - rather then stay here with me, then fine. ;)<br /><br />In November, people started asking me to come back. Try the new pastor. They said he was wonderful. *Snort* Right. Wonderful. As wonderful as Pastor Kirby? They said yes. My friends Barb and Mark are so very sincere. When Mark told me to give it another try - just one try, I listened. <br /><br />Here I am back at Word of Grace. My church home. The place I love. The new pastor? He's awesome. Pastor Glenn is someone I can relate to. He has young kids. He's energetic. He never once claims to be perfect. In fact I very much relate to his self-deprecating sense of humor. He's funny. He can get loud when he's excited. I love that. But most of all, I can feel his passion radiating off the stage. I can feel it wash over us and it makes me happy to be there once again. <br /><br />For the last month of so, guess who has been coming to church with me? Eric. He was raised Lutheran and I'm pretty sure he thinks we bite the heads off live chickens at Word of Grace when he's not looking. But he likes the music. He likes the pastor. He likes that his son comes out of Sunday school excited. <br /><br />Two weeks ago I was in church with Eric. We were next to my friends Susan and Ken. During the music, I looked over and Ken and Susan had their hands locked, and they were swinging them to the music. They were so happy. And all the disenchantment I felt with the church melted off - just like that. I realized that part of my disenchantment was that I just didn't like to sit there in church by myself. I like being there with Eric. I like getting into discussions about the church or religion with Eric and my friends. I look and Ken and Susan and know that that's the kind of relationship I want in my life again - just like Jim and I had. Just like I believe Eric and I are forming now. <br /><br />I talked to my friends Lisa and Amy about it, and Lisa pointed out that people need to worship in different ways. She said she would be okay with being totally alone at church - that she's there to learn and be in the presence of God. And I thought "Well I'm that way too!"...but really, I'm not that way any more. When I was younger I honestly didn't need a church or anyone else to have a relationship with God. And I still don't need that now - I think God and I are on pretty familiar terms. (He certainly has heard enough from me!) But what I do need is that sense of community. I need to hear from a pastor that I trust and respect. I need to be surrounded by people that are willing to lift me up and push me forward. I love sitting there with Eric - holding hands and listening to him sing. I love watching my friend Barb up on stage singing - her enthusiasm is infectious. I like sitting near Ken and Susan and getting the sense that everything is going to be okay for me too. I will find love again. I will be able to open up, accept friendship and love. I will be able to move forward. It's sort of like being at the gym - I feel better working out with other people. It makes me want to do more and push a little further than I would on my own. <br /><br />Thanks to my own little spiritual community - to the attendees at Word of Grace, to Pastor Glenn for building that sense of community, to Susan and Ken, Barb and Mark, Amy and Biz, Lisa, Candace, Vicki and Sandoval, Susan and Russ, Mike and Maureen...and to Eric. Thanks to the girls in my former Bible study, and so many other people I look forward to seeing on Sundays. You make me feel welcome. And I enjoy church again. <br /><br />Just like that. I realize I like to be there with someone I love. I like to be there with friends. I like to be there and listen to Pastor Glenn. I'm not mad anymore, God. I just needed a break.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-19806584896418535372010-02-15T21:47:00.002-05:002010-02-15T23:03:41.055-05:00Yeah, therapy is worth itIn the past I've associated therapy with...you know, crazy people. (Like I'm not crazy?!) Nonetheless, starting therapy wasn't easy for me. I went to a therapist shortly after Jim died that I liked, but I didn't feel that I was taking away from my sessions what I could. I decided to try again with a new therapist that someone recommended to me. <br /><br />I like this therapist. She's everything I'm not. Soft-spoken. Delicate. Thoughtful. Something about her makes me really quiet down. Take a moment. Listen. Think. <br /><br />When I saw her last week, I explained to her that I've really been struggling with Jim. I'm struggling getting by most days without him. I miss him so much it sickens me. I watch my kids missing him and that sickens me even more. I am angry and mournful. This is not the life I was planning on. <br /><br />I have been struggling with this, in part, because I've really been enjoying my time with Eric. If I'm having such fun with Eric, how can I still feel so sick and miserable without Jim? I never compare them. They are two totally different men. There's literally almost nothing similar about them, save for a unique ability to put up with me. When I hang out with Eric, I'm not sad about Jim. We have a great time laughing and talking, and he listens to my stories about Jim. There are a lot of stories about Jim, of course. <br /><br />So when I talked to the therapist about it last week, she suggested that I am perhaps waiting for some sort of a milestone or event before I can give up some of my misery. Know what the number one thing she pointed out was? If you call our home phone, Jim's voice is still on the voicemail. I just haven't been able to take it off yet. But her suggestion wasn't that it was a physical milestone or event - it's perhaps a mental milestone or event I'm waiting for. Okay. That makes sense to me. <br /><br />I thought about that a lot. I meditated on it. In the morning when I got up, I decided that perhaps it IS a mental block I'm trying to get past - but that quite possibly my mental hurdle is also caused by some of the physical hurdles I've allowed to continue on in the house. I think I mentioned that I moved Jim's tools a few months ago. That was tough. But you know, it's a change. Maybe what I need is a bit of a change. So I finally, after 2 years, packed up his boxers and tshirts. I saved a few, but not many. Somehow, Jim actually used more drawer space than me. After he died I cleared out his shirts, pants (I'm having the shirts and pants made into quilts for the kids), and socks, but hung on to some of his stuff. I just wasn't ready to get rid of things that were so distinctly...Jim. Up until this past week he's actually still had around 40% of the drawer space in our house! <br /><br />So I'm hoping that maybe making some physical changes will help me overcome some of the mental issues. That being said, I'm going to be taking Jim's voice off our voicemail soon. If you would like to hear Jim's voice, please call the house during the day over the next week or two. I'll change the message when I muster the gumption. Making changes is difficult. I miss him so much. With every step I wonder if I'm letting more of him go. But I also don't want to continue on in the same misery I'm feeling now.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703821.post-41232927732360407022010-01-18T13:45:00.003-05:002010-01-18T14:32:02.707-05:00Being an only parent means...Being an only parent means...<br /><br />- I have no break unless I hire someone, my mom and dad take the kids or my in-laws do. <br />- I deal with the sickness in the house, even if I'm sick. <br />- I am the disciplinarian all the time. I can't really afford to get lazy and look at someone and say "You handle that" or "your turn" because there isn't anyone else. <br />- If I want to get a gallon of milk, I need to load everyone in the car, or suffer the consequence of being the next Sheboygan mom on the news for leaving her kids at home or in the car while she goes and drinks or goes to a tanning bed. (Oh yes. Thank you Sheboygan for making us the home of really weird news!)<br />- Homework with Rachel has become a monumental battle. I have a rotten study ethic myself, so I'm really trying to work on it. And be positive. But goodness gracious, my patience is thin. <br />- I hate making them clean up. So it's either I stand over them and make them clean up (which I consider a waste of my time because I just end up yelling and everything is sloppily done), or do it myself, or let the playroom dissolve into a horrific mess. And PS, I'm a complete slob myself. Why should I make my bed when I know I'm just going to get in it that night?<br />- I seem to drown in the paperwork. I can't keep up with everything. And by the time nightfall hits it's all I can do to veg on the couch or do my studying for my class. <br />- If I need a break, I have to leave my house to have it. I don't often get an opportunity to be in my own home without having anyone else here. No one to say "honey, I'll take the kids to the movies while you take a nap". <br /><br />The bonuses of being an only parent-<br />- No one is going to fight me on my parenting choices. <br />- It's high stress but there are also big rewards. I guess that's true for any parent - regardless of whether or not they are single. <br /><br />I'm tired and whiny. I'm not feeling well, which is why I'm tired and whiny. You know, I love to say "I just need a day to get caught up". *SNORT*. Right. Like that would take care of it. If I had a day to get caught up, you know what I'd do? I'd take a NAP and enjoy the peace and quiet! And then the next day I'd whine and say I needed a day to get caught up. <br /><br />I sometimes need to look around and realize that I'm not placing a priority on the things I'm whining about. It's not going to get easier unless I wash the dishes right away. And put them away right away. Or do the laundry before it stacks up to the second floor of the house in the chute. And then fold the laundry and put it away right away. Those things weren't really important to me even when Jim was here. I'm a piles person. I make stacks of things that I mean to look at. "I'll look at that later" - and two weeks later, there it sits in a pristine pile, still waiting for me. <br /><br />So then, if I'm not placing a priority on those things, what am I prioritizing? Well. I'm trying to get structure in our days. Which means Rachel is starting homework shortly after she gets home from school. (It typically takes two hours with all the whining, fussing and stalling, although she probably only has about 45 minutes worth of work MAX daily.) I'm trying to cook healthy meals a couple of nights a week and eat leftovers. I'm trying to spend time reading with them and playing with them. I've pledged to get them outside more often and do things with them outside. Right now that mostly means taking them sledding! I've prioritized helping out at the school. I've prioritized exercise and school for me. My anatomy and physiology class is going to be demanding. And I've tried to prioritize fun time for me, too - fun time as an adult. Which means spending time with my friends, seeing Eric, and getting OUT of the house. <br /><br />I'll keep trying. It's never going to be perfect because unfortunately I am among the most flawed humans on earth. I'll pat myself on the back for perseverance and remind myself of what my priorities are. If I think I can't get it all done now, I should think about when I was trying to juggle being a caregiver for Jim and manage all this other stuff. I was a wreckage zone then and I had to lean so heavily on friends and family. Or the year after Jim died when my mom came down here literally every other week to help me. It's better today than it was yesterday. Tomorrow will be better than today. Next week I'll get my act together. And by the time school lets out I'll have the routine down pat - just in time for summer break! ;-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0