Family Reunion

This weekend is our family reunion.  Four days of family, food, shenanigans and laughter.   All of my father's living siblings (they are down to 7 out of 10 now...) will be here either themselves or through proxy and most of their cousins too!  We will have mass on Sunday in memory of the family members who have died.  There are "families" within our family that are missing someone for the first time and we will surround them with love and compassion as they walk their road. 


I have four siblings and for the first time since the summer Robert and I were married, we are all at the beach together.  Here is the thing, earlier in the week, I felt an ache--we are all here except Robert.  It took me time to identify the ache. It wasn't a sobbing mess of missing him--that happens so rarely now, I can't remember the last time. 


Last night, Munchkin was in bed watching a movie and my brother shared with him that he was watching one of his daddy's favorite movies, and I realized I am not the only one who remembers. 
We are all feeling it.  But at the same time, the hole in the fabric of our family that was created, is now a part of the family.  It no longer reduces us to tears.  I no longer stare into the dark of night wishing the pain away.  It is just a part of me and a part of all of us. 




The life we live now is NOTHING like the life Robert and I had with Munchkin. 


Munchkin and I have figured out our two person family and it is our normal. I have been "only parenting" so long, I don't remember what it was like to have that extra set of hands. I don't remember what is it like to have someone else to do things--we are just normal now. Part of that normal is enjoying our family and family reunion. 

Looking for the Beauty

We are having a record breaking winter in terms of snow fall. 

I LOVE SNOW.  Seriously, I used to gripe and complain and tell Robert every year how much I missed snow.  I love the looking at a snow globe out the window. 

Now that I work at home, I don't have to worry about driving in it, or more specifically, I don't have to worry about who was driving next to me or around me. 

When I look at my facebook feed, it is full of moaning and groaning about mother nature, winter, snow and ice. 

I get it.   People are tired and want to fast forward to spring. 

Here I am still enjoying the snow.   I have taken a different approach.  I have been taking this opportunity to admire the beauty of snow. 

In the past I had seen pictures of single snowflakes and I always admired the beauty of them.

This year I have started taking the opportunity of all of the snow to start snapping pictures of snowflakes. 

I am taking the time to capture the beauty of my circumstance.  I can't change the seasons, so I am working to find the beauty exactly where I am.  I am not complaining or wishing away the snow and cold.  I am deliberately taking the time to stop and look around.  

I am by no means a "good" photographer, however, I am pretty happy with the way the pictures that have turned out.    As I was sorting through my pictures this morning,  I was reflecting on this.  

Perhaps the secret to being content in any situation is to find the beauty around you.   Children are good at this.  My Munchkin is an expert at it.  I have him to thank for helping me to find beauty around me.  I am more observant because of him.

My challenge to you is to stop for just a minute and find the beauty around you.  I promise that it will not be wasted.  

Caterpillar

Yesterday morning walking to school, we encountered a big fat fuzzy caterpillar in the crosswalk.  He was yellow and he was moving pretty darn fast for a caterpillar!

Munchkin immediately saw him and wanted to save him.   There were no cars, so I told him he could pick him up.   He gingerly bent down and tried to coax him into his hand.   It didn't work.

A car came and we exited the crosswalk.   Munchkin yelled to the car not to run over his caterpillar.   I am not sure that there are words to describe his animation and conviction that he used.  Suffice it to say, that had I let him, he would have covered that caterpillar with his body to protect him.  We tried again with a stick, and again, that caterpillar had other plans.

Another car approached and we again exited the crosswalk, this time it was a teacher and she said we could cross, I replied, go ahead we are rescuing a  caterpillar.   She chuckled. 

This time we went with a leaf,  the caterpillar crawled into the leaf in his hand.  He very carefully walked with that leaf and caterpillar cradled in his hands.  He was so cute and so determined to make sure that caterpillar didn't get hurt or scared.  He took it to a tree next to the playground and whispered to the caterpillar.  We went on to put down his backpack and play. 

When I picked him up, he asked me if I made sure that the caterpillar stayed out of the street.  I assured him that I did not see him in the crosswalk. 

This morning, he asked me if the caterpillar would remember his message.  I assured him that he would.  Curious, I asked him, "what did you tell the caterpillar?"

He replied, "I told him when he turns into a beautiful butterfly, to please fly to heaven and tell daddy that I love him"

I am awestruck by my son daily.   I am currently sitting here and being grateful for having such a special and loving child.  He has such an understanding of things that no child should have to experience.   At the same time, I am awed by his grace and compassion.

Past, Present and Future....

This past weekend, one of Munchkin's scouting outings was at Robert's Alma Mater.  It coincided with 15 years to the day of when we got engaged and celebrated our engagement with a mass at the Abbey across from campus.  We were actually engaged the day before, but you know being the busybody that I am, I had gotten us Bears tickets as a surprise for him and he had planned our engagement.  In light of the Bears game, he had to push our engagement celebrations over a few days.  I was perfect.  

Fifteen years ago, I was looking forward to a wonderful long marriage together.  Today, I am an only parent.  It was a day filled of memories.  Filled of ghosts of the past on that campus. 

I made a decision.   Munchkin and I were there to do scouts.  He was there to have fun with his friends and really I didn't think it would have been fair of me to share my ghosts with him.  So I didn't.  I did post on Facebook so that my grown up friends knew what I was thinking, but I hid my sorrow from my little boy in his Tiger Cub uniform.  He was busy being a boy with his friends and he deserves to have his time unburdened by my memories.  Right, wrong or indifferent, I try very hard to have balance in our lives.   Instead of dragging us through the past and opening old wounds, I try to keep us grounded in the present.  When Munchkin asks questions, I answer them honestly and truthfully.   He goes through phases where he asks lots of questions and then times when he doesn't ask any.  I try and follow his lead-I figure he will ask what he wants to know and as long as I answer him, he will keep asking. 

As I was helping clean up, the skies opened to a spectacular display of rays of light shining down from heaven.  I know Robert was with me.  I know he lives on in my heart, and the visual was just a simple affirmation for me.   Let me tell you, the pictures below, don't do it justice.  It was as if the rays were reaching down and touching the stadium. 

It is decidedly odd to have my life come full circle.  A place I shared with Robert that brought us great joy, is now a place I shared with Munchkin.   It is such a dichotomy-to have a place of joy with each of them, that they don't get to share together.   I am having a hard time describing what that feels like, which is weird because it pretty much encompasses my life.   I shared joy with Robert, I now share joy with Munchkin yet, I am the only commonality between the two of them.   Robert doesn't get to help raise his son whom he wished and wished to have for so many years.  

At any rate, I take a deep breath and just try to enjoy it for what it is-the daily goings on of my life. 

Looking for Steady Ground

In a marriage, you have two people. Like a table there are four legs on the ground.  If one leg gets a little wobbly or looses its footing temporarily, there are three other legs to shoulder the load and an extra set of hands to help rearrange that 4 legged table into a three legged table.   That extra set of hands helps make sure that nothing important gets left by the wayside and that the load is balanced so that the table can keep on functioning like a table should.  

I miss my four legged table with an extra set of hands....a two legged table is more like an unsteady stack of Lincoln logs....take away one of the little bitty stacking pieces on one side-even for a minute and it is wobbly and threatens to topple.  Even if it doesn't topple, the load is unbalanced, messy and precariously perched.   You know, when everything goes nuts all at once, and you are standing there like, whoa, wait just a minute here, I am just one person being pulled in a million directions!

Dare I say that I am used to the unbalanced feeling of being stretched too thin? What I really miss is that other grown up in the house.  The one who would help me do everything and would tell me that everything will be ok.   Even something as simple as getting the dishes done or running to the grocery store could be handled with a divide and conquer approach which ultimately made us stronger.  Grocery store, check, laundry, check, dinner, check, clean house, check, homework, check, work done, check....and on and on.   When one of us was overloaded in some area, the other picked up the slack.   No, there is no one to pick up slack and some stuff falls aside.  

Even though my little Lincoln log tower is trusty and proven, I don't have all the answers.  I am constantly second guessing whether I am good enough, whether I am making the right choices.  I worry about being an only parent.  I worry about the stuff that gets left to the wayside.  

I know wishing to have a four legged table back is useless, so I will just have to find a way to work with what I do have....perhaps I can turn my Lincoln log tower into a cool bridge??? 

A Letter to Teachers

At this time of year there are tons of letters to parents floating around the internet, asking us to be involved with our kids and back up  the teachers.  DUH.   We do these things.   I know many families don't or simply can't, but there are plenty of families that do.  

Do today I would like to share a letter to the teachers:

Dear Teacher,
I know that you don't know us and you have thirty families to deal with this year, but I wanted to just take a few minutes of your time. 

I appreciate all that you do as a teacher, I know that being in teaching for many years is not easy and it is a service of the heart.  I commend you for that.  I believe that God pick teachers and that teaching is a calling.  

I thought you would like to know a little about us.   My munchkin is 6 but in some ways he is much older.   My wish for him is to have fun learning.   I know that is a tall task for you with 30 kids that have likely 30 different levels of abilities, but really please remember that.

I promise you that I will help to keep him responsible for following all of the rules and using his manners. I promise that we will do our reading, and when he comes to school talking about the books we have read at home, please listen. I want him to be happy at school and not to be bored.   I know it takes a lot of your energy to keep everyone engaged.  

See he is my baby, my one and only, forever.   I take extra care of him and I hope you will too! 
Oh, and when you ask them to draw pictures of their family, please don't be shocked.  He sometimes will draw a smiling sideways head in the sky.  Sometimes he doesn't and that is ok too, but when he does, that is his dad.  He died in a car accident several years ago and thanks to books, Munchkin thinks heaven is in the clouds.   He may also draw a gaggle of people.  That is our family.  Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and grandparents.   We are very blessed to have so many so close to us.  

When you ask him what his wish is for at New Years, please don't be shocked when he says a new daddy.   I am fine if he wishes for that.  I tell him that if God decides that he is supposed to have a new daddy then he will.   He knows his daddy can't come back from heaven even if he wished for it.  He knows death is permanent.   See that is why I say he is older in so many ways. 

Please remember, that I am not your enemy, I don't do things to make your classroom difficult.  I know that it is only by working together as a team that my Munchkin will be able to excel in all of his abilities.

Lastly, I wish that you have a fantastic year with all of your new kids and that they teach you as much as you teach them!

Sincerely,
Munchkin's Mommy

Hello to a new year

Robert was a teacher, so in our marriage, I got to do "first day" many times.  It was a ton of pomp and circumstance and hoopla to get the kids excited, but there was also a ton of prayer.

Robert used to pray for his students and for God to use him to teach them.   He did this silently and without fail.  It was just a part of him.   Now I KNOW how much his students meant to him and how much he meant to them.  He was a beloved and favored teacher. 

I know how much he longed to send our child off to school, so for me, the fact that Munchkin started first grade today, simply marks another milestone that we didn't get to share.

Munchkin was full of anticipation last night--dare I say almost apprehension?  He was not really looking forward to a new year.  We had a healthy breakfast of oatmeal and apple slices.   He helped pack his lunch and snack and then confided that he hopes he gets to do fun stuff this year.  I told him I KNOW he will get to do fun stuff and off to school we went. 

He could not be more independent if he tried.  He put his backpack in line and ran off to play with some of his friends.  He spent the playground time upside down and I only managed to get one quick photo of the two of us...the rest of them, well he is upside down on the monkey bars.  I figure that when he is thirty I can tell the story of him refusing the obligatory stand in front of the door photo in favor of a few more minutes of fun....and the fact that he mommy let him have the fun and snapped pictures of that.  

So I pray.  I pray that his teacher is a perfect match for us.  That she falls in love with him as only a teacher can.  That she nurtures his curiosity and his love of reading.  That she challenges him.  
I pray all of these things, but I mostly pray for him to have fun and stay safe--He is after all only 6 and 6 year olds are supposed to have fun. 

Volunteering

A week or so ago I was doing a training to be able to be a Cub Scout leader.  After the training, there was a form you have to fill out your current volunteer experience with children.

Wow, I could think of nothing that I currently do.  NOTHING.  NADA.
 

After Robert died, I was so wrapped up in us that I dropped EVERYTHING.  I needed all my energy to survive.   I needed what little stamina I had for my child.  I needed to work to financially support us, I needed to give him a routine and stability and I needed to heal myself.   I did these things.  I took time for me...often times it was because my mother or sister was lovingly nudging me to do so, but I did it nonetheless. 

Between teething, midnight feedings, working full time, stressing about daycare and preschool, I used up every bit of the energy and stamina that I had.  Every last drop.  That meant that I didn't volunteer for ANYTHING.  No car club, no church groups, no nothing.  Ok not entirely true, I do volunteer for a GFWC club with my mom and sister but that is it. 

I spent three or four days feeling pretty crummy about this lack of volunteerism.  I mean I haven't done anything to help other people.  Wow.   After reflecting, I decided not to feel badly.  I mean, at the time, the tragedy was so life shattering I literally needed every bit of strength to get out of bed.   I swear I walked around with constant tears.  I was in shock, I was in a fog.  I could not function.   Those were very, very dark times.   I didn't have any energy to give.  

I realized something.  My Munchkin was like 18 months old.   I didn't have anything that I needed to volunteer for.   No scouting, no PTA, no doing stuff for sports.   I did what I needed to do.   Now that he is older I AM volunteering. I have made the choice to show up and be there with my child.   I am grateful that I have a choice. 

Now, I have stepped in very, very slowly.  I help out at Taekwondo when they need parent volunteers.  I have joined scouting with him, mainly because it is fun, and mostly because I want to do it with him and I have agreed to do a few things with PTA.  Mostly one time activities.  But I am doing it.  I am doing what five years ago was not possible, and often times inconceivable. 

I still pray that I have the stamina to do these few things and to other parents reading this, it may not seem like much,  in fact it isn't much, but it is all I have to give and that is what is important.  That I am choosing to give my time to serve my family and to spend time with my child.   And that HAS to be ENOUGH. 

Taking a Pass

As Munchkin's only parent, there is not much I get to take a pass at.   I'm the one who makes him eat his veggies, puts him in time out, stays up with him when he is sick, does homework with him.   I'm the one who talks to him when his feelings get hurt or when things don't go his way.   I am his only protector.  

Th entirety of the life of a single parent is too much for most people to fathom.  Being the only grown up in a house is beyond exhausting.   But I live it every day.   I rarely, very rarely take a pass at anything.   There have been occasions where my sister or mom has pushed me out the door while they babysat with clear instruction to go have fun.   That is about the extent of it.   

I do have a line in the sand.  When he had a spider bite and needed wound packing, I held him, mom did it.   We all cried.... 

When he pulled the skin glue off the gash in his forehead....I couldn't bear to mess with the cut....we went back to the pediatrician and he did it.   I took a pass on those, not because they are gross but because I can't bear to see Munchkin hurt, and having me cause any of the hurt is inconceivable. 

He has had some warts on the bottom of his foot.  I have been treating them with the OTC crap for weeks to no avail.   Today we had a dr appointment for his asthma and I called and asked if we could kill two birds with one stone (copay).   The dr did his thing, froze and removed them.   Then I showed him where he had one by the nail that had fallen off but still looked funny.   He said that I just needed to pull the last piece out.   I laughed and responded, "go ahead".  Literally those were the words that came out of my mouth.   Sometimes I'm so flippant I shock myself.   But, that's my line.   In pulling that last little bit out, it was going to hurt munchkin and I was not about to do that.   The doctor looked at me, chuckled and did it. He remembered our last conversation about this.   

 I am Munchkin's mom.   It is just us.  I have a line.   I have pulled out splinters, applied bactine and peroxide to scrapes, I have even pulled out ticks and stingers.   I will do what I have to do, but given the choice, I will let the doctor hurt him for a second and I will hug him and let him squeeze my hand.   

So today I had the rare occasion to take a pass and I did.   

The Grumpy Lady...

Walking through the mall and Munchkin needs to go potty.  Here is the thing...he is big enough to be independent, however not big enough to go into the mens room by himself.  Not even close.

Last week, a woman actually had the GALL to tell me that my six year old was too old to be using a women's restroom.  Let's me clear.  He was washing his hands.  He had to go...he was not running around peeking under stalls or doing anything that should garner any looks or comments.   He is a little boy who can BARLEY reach the faucet and generally can't reach the paper towels. 

I was flabbergasted.  I stood there for just a moment silent and then I said "I am so sorry that you feel that way.  Have a good day!"  I smiled at her.   She looked shocked and then shot me another dirty look. 

For a split second I was feeling bad.   I felt like I was the one in the wrong.  Then I went and posted the encounter on Facebook and within minutes I was inundated by people commenting that she was way out of line! Whew.  I was relieved.

See as this was happening, I choose to "kill her with kindness" because I didn't want Munchkin to feel like he was in the wrong or out of line in any way.  I did not want to let this strange lady have ANY ounce of control over our day or our life.  When Nate asked me why she was so grouchy, I replied that sometimes people can just be mean when they are having a bad day.  He looked at me funny and told me that it wasn't nice of her to be mean and maybe she should make a better choice.  

Yes my dear, she did need to make a better choice, because our choice is just fine for us!

These Days

The other night, we were playing outside.  Munchkin was running around the yard.  I was admiring the grass that I had cut a few days ago.  The air was cool and the sun was setting.   Two of our friends were walking by and stopped to chat.

I am feeling so blessed that we live in such an awesome neighborhood, where everyone knows each other and people play together in the evenings.  Where friends stop to talk and literally are just a phone call away.  Where kids play outside and ride bikes and chase lighting bugs and whine to stay up just a little later.

I am grateful that for the moment we are living an idyllic life.  One that I had hoped and wished and planned for.  Evenings in the yard, coffee on the patio in the morning.  Looking at the bunnies hop through the yard and hoping that the fox isn't hot on their tails.  I am in awe of all of the wonderful things that have happened in our life.  I never dreamed that we would ever have a house again.  Yet, here we are!

Six years ago I was hoping to share these days with Robert and our child someday. Five years ago, I couldn't see past the brokenness to imagine these days would ever happen or feel good without Robert here.   Today, even though Robert isn't here, I have a sense of contentment with the life that we have.  It doesn't make it ok that Robert is dead, but I can tell you on most days, I have found the fortitude to be grateful for what is in front of me today.  I am grateful because I know how quickly and permanently things change.  I give thanks constantly for our blessings and I pray every day to continue to be blessed. While I certainly think I have had my share of tragedy, this bliss is not guaranteed to continue and I know that.  I have worked very hard to stay in the present moment and to practice gratitude and it seems to be working.  It seems to be getting better for us. 

We are very, very blessed these days.  

Fishing and Life

For at least several months my Munchkin has wanted to learn to fish.  A total little boy thing right?  A rite of childhood passage.  I can tell you that I am very well equipped for this one.  My parents made sure that the girls knew how to do guy stuff and the boys knew how to do girl stuff.  I am lucky in that regard and I know it. 

My dad used to take us all fishing in Lake Michigan.  Usually from shore, but sometimes from the pier.   I can still remember it.   So, even though in my mind, this was clearly a time when Robert would have taught him something and I would have gotten to hang back, sleep in and enjoy some coffee--I was able to say ok without having to ask someone else to do it. 

We headed off to the beach this past weekend and when I hit town, mom requested that I stop and pick up a few things.  Honestly, it is a small price to pay-too little, one could argue for the privilege of sharing the beach with Munchkin and spending time with my parents.

When I pulled into Meijer and Nate asked if we could fish, I said yes.  I selected a pole for him and some extra bobbers.   When dad taught us how to fish, we learned to cast like an expert before we even earned a hook.  As a parent, I think that is a FANTASTIC idea so I decided we would do the same thing.   I checked with the desk and asked the rules for fishing licenses.  I was told if I wasn't fishing it would probably be ok to not get one, however, knowing my luck, a dumb 40 pound Coho would bite his spoon lure just as the Game Warden drove by, so I decided to buy one anyway :)

Munchkin could not contain his excitement!  When we pulled into the beach house, he promptly ran upstairs to show Nana and Papa his new fishing pole.   I explained that we fish early in the morning and he was ok with that.  I had him help me string his pole and attach his sinker and bobber.   There was not a happier boy on the face of the earth! 

The next morning, he rose early and was ready to go.   We walked down to the beach.  I sent a few casts off to remember how to do and explained it to him.   Within a few short tries he had the casting part down pat.  Now, the whole, watch where you swing your pole, now that leaves much to be desired before I will let him have a hook!  Cause, really neither of us need to be hooked!

I stood there on the shore and just watched him.  I basked in his joy and I kept my mouth shut.   While my heart was full of memories of his father, I did not share them with him.  They are not his memories, they are mine. 

While I do enjoy sharing and answering questions, that was not for today.   Today was all about watching my child enjoy learning something new and learning that practice improves what you are working on and watching him be elated that he can cast the line further than I.  It was watching his smile and hearing his laughter and teaching him how to hold the pole, and what to do with the line.  It was about being thankful that these are things that I know. 

If he asks me, I will answer him, but I will wait for him to ask.   If he asks me if Daddy liked to fish,  I will tell him,  Robert was an AVID fisherman.  He loved to fish any chance that he got.  He would go at the drop of a hat and would plan long fishing vacations with his brothers. Before he died, he invited my brothers to go on a deep sea fishing trip with him that was to take place just a few weeks after the car accident.  I have two tackle boxes that are old and crusty now, likely full of rotten fish guts and only good for holding memories.  Sweet ones, but memories nonetheless. If he asks me I will tell him, and if he doesn't I have my sweet memories of watching Robert fish, and hearing his fish tales and looking at the mounted fish on our living room wall.   (The one that sits in the garage, in a box too tangible a reminder to enter the house)

But for now, for today, it is all about sharing a childhood memory with my son and being grateful that it is something that I can do!

What a world...

The other evening, I took Munchkin to see Despicable Me 2.  We love going to the movies together even if I do have a small heart attack every time I go to pay!!!

He is old enough now where I let him pick our seats, and he usually picks the top row center.  Not a bad seat. 

As the previews played, there was a new preview, one that wasn't there ten days ago when we saw Monsters University. 

I don't remember the exact wording, but it had to do with locating your exits and how to leave in an emergency.   WOW.  My heart stopped.  I knew where it came from.  All of us grownups know about the shooting at the movie theater in Colorado.  The shooting at the Sandy Hook.  We know about the random terrible crap and evil that permeates our world today.   I am not quite sure WHY I was so shocked.   This is not news and really a reminder to look for your emergency exits is a good idea-but for some odd reason it made me feel sick.  

Perhaps it was because I know that all too soon, it won't be cool to go to the movies with your mom, he will want to go with his friends. That means, that I will have to let go of his hand and trust him to make good choices long before I am ready to do so.  I am quite comforted by the illusion that I can protect him, even if I know deep down that it is ONLY and illusion.

Perhaps it is because I know that life is precarious and precious and changes in a flash.  While sometimes those changes are positive, they are not always so.  Sometimes those changes are catastrophic and push us into unchartered territory where we can no longer keep our head above water with our some serious support.  I. KNOW. THIS.  I should not be shocked that other people with cool heads have decided that it is a good idea to get people to look at exit signs.  It is a good idea.

So I took a deep breath and reminded myself that bad things don't always happen, that there are good things in the world and maybe just maybe I can help my son hold onto the solace of the good things.  I can't erase the tragedy that we have endured, but I can bolster us with the good around us.   I can demonstrate to him that we laugh, we play, we act silly, we love and we enjoy life.  We do all of that IN SPITE of the evil and tragedy that abounds in this world because that is how I survive.  

Half

We had defined sides of the bed for sleeping.  I was always on the left side of the bed, he was always on the right.  It just was. 

It has been over five years since the day he died, however I still find myself on the left side of the bed.  I now have a smaller bed that has been in three different places in three different bedrooms and the result is still the same...I stay perched on my side, and his stays empty. 

Even though I know...it isn't HIS side, never was, he never slept in this bed, he never slept on these sheets, he never used these pillows or blankets.  Heck--he has never even stepped foot into my house.  I know this.   My brain knows it, I am pretty sure that my heart knows it.

At night, there is an icy chill that emanates from his side of MY bed.  It creeps over to me and just reminds me that I am alone.  That I don't have anyone to share my bed.  That Robert is gone, and not just gone, but he. is. dead.  He is never coming back and I will NEVER again spend a night nestled safe in his arms with my head on his chest.  Really this feeling of icy loneliness is getting very old. 

I have done everything that I can think to do.  I decorated my bedroom.  I selected a beach theme and enlisted my mom who is awesome at decorating to help me pull it together.  I have a beautiful painting, new sheets and comforter.  A really cool lamp and other accessories.  I selected my bedroom so that the light comes in and spills over the bed in the morning.  It is bright and warm and cozy.  But it hasn't helped.    The ice still fills the room in the dead of night. 

So I take a deep breath and I suck it up and I lay down and I go to sleep.   In the morning I awake and it is the same thing over again.   I am alone and there is no one in my bed besides me....well unless Munchkin is sick and has wandered into mommy's bed in the middle of the night, then I am usually awakened at a pre-dawn hour by a squirmy octopus in my bed.

Don't you know, kids grow extra limbs and flail them endlessly when they are in your bed, in their own beds--they sleep perfectly still and awake in the same position that you kissed them goodnight. 
So I kiss Munchkin good morning and look around and I say a prayer of thanks for all of the things that I do have and I hope that one day, this particular feeling fades to a distant memory. 

Hometown Dairy Queen

We live in a suburb of Chicago.  It is a relatively small town, where most everyone knows everyone else.   Except for the ten years we lived in Texas, I have been here my whole life.   My parents have been in the same house for 31 years.   Many families have been here that long or longer.

One of the rites of passage of summer is going to Dairy Queen or "DQ" as we refer to it.   For as long as I can remember it has been a gathering spot.  When I first moved back, I had run into so many old friends there picking up a cone or dilly bar.   It is one of the perks of being in a small town.  Families gather and share ice cream.  Sports teams go there after games and practices.  It is an institution in the community.  I grew up meeting friends there for DQ.

Tonight, we had dinner then went to mom and dad's so that Munchkin could play with Nana's new puppy--which is an entirely different post.

When we got in the car, he asked to go to DQ.  I acquiesced   Well, while I am used to running into my friends there, I was totally unprepared for my social butterfly to start running into his buddies!  But there they were no less than 4 boys he knows either from school or TaeKwonDo.  

While I visited with the other parents, he visited with his friends.  All was right in the world.  Well, until one of the little boys asked me if Munchkin's daddy really died.  I thought the mother was going to collapse.  I said that yes he did, and the little boy did not believe me.

Now, I have gotten used to the idiocy of grownups in asking dumb questions, but the realization that my son would have one of his friends doubt something that he says.  That hurt.  It made my heart hurt for him.   I know that he doesn't completely grasp things yet, but he will.   One day, he will realize exactly what it means that someone he calls a friend would think that he would make up a story about his dad being dead.

While I know that it  is no reflection on us whatsoever, and I know that this other little boy is likely lucky enough to have no reference point of death in his life, so hearing that someone else lost something as central to his life as a father has to seem incredulous to him, I am not sure that my son will have that same level of understanding when he starts to "get" it.

The mother was profusely apologetic.  At this point my Munchkin was conversing with one of his TaeKwonDo buddies.  She apologized again and her son asked me if he really did die.  The mom and I exchanged a look, I bent down and told him that yes, Munchkin's daddy did die and that sometimes that happens.

The mother thanked me for being so kind and apologized again.  I told her that it was OK  and that her son probably has never known anyone who died so it is a foreign concept to her.  She told me that was true and then again commended me for my composure and kindness.   Really, I was just showing her child the compassion that I would like others to show to mine.

Health Forms and a sucker punch

Sometimes out of nowhere, things can still just reach up and slap you.

I had to fill out health forms for both of us for Munchkin to attend day camp.  On his form, I had to fill in his father's name.   I did and then I put deceased.  It is how I fill it out.  I can't bring myself to leave that form blank.  It feels wrong and it hurts.  My hand hovers over the page and the tears filled my eyes.   I took a deep breath and a wrote the word.  "DECEASED" in my neat half printed/half cursive handwriting. 

My breath catches in my chest every time I have to do that.  Munchkin has three different camps which means I likely have to do this two more times.  It isn't the form that hurts so much, but it is the reminder that Robert is dead.  That Munchkin doesn't have a living dad and that I am doing this all on my own.   It is the knowledge that there will be a question from someone in charge, that is generally accompanied by the "pity face"

You know the one that looks at you like you are a wilting flower that needs to be saved. Or maybe it is just me that feels this way? I don't know. 

The Spotlight

Have you ever been in a room full of people and you look around and realize that you don't belong?  That for some strange reason, you are in a room full of strangers who have nothing in common with you?  It is a very isolating feeling.  

That is exactly what happened earlier this week.   Munchkin is old enough for Cub Scouts.  He is over the moon excited for this.  He has been looking forward to it since his older cousin started a year ago.  

This week was his first pack meeting.  It was crowded and loud and he made friends and had a ton of fun! He was laughing and playing and following directions.  I could not have had a happier boy on my hands.  

I on the other hand, I sat in my seat and looked around at all of the families.  I felt like there was a HUGE SPOTLIGHT on me.  Like I stood out as a sore thumb. 

Over there-yep, she is the one without a husband.  Look at her here all alone.  

I know that it is only in my brain and no one certainly did anything to make me feel this way, it is just how I feel when we go into a situation that is surrounded by families.  For some reason, I thought being in a pack with my brother and uncle would make it less so-perhaps it will over time, but it did not help this week.  I came home and I cried.  The bitter painful tears of a broken heart.  I cried for me and I cried for Robert.   See, he didn't get to do scouting.   His dad did it with his older brothers but he was never afforded the opportunity.  He never actually camped ever.  I am from a scouting family.  We are all scouts and all camp and do things and volunteer.  It is how we were raised.   Robert was so looking forward to doing scouting with his son and us as a family.  Perhaps that is really why it is so painful for me to do alone.  This was one of those preconceived family things that I am now doing by myself.  NOT FAIR! 

I also know that it isn't fair for me to hole us up indoors alone, so we go out and do things.  We join scouts, we do family activities at school.  We show up and we do.  I know that our family is not unique.  I get that.  I know there are plenty of widowed moms and dads in the world.  Just wish there was one or two kindred spirits in our circles.  Then I feel horrible for wishing that, because I would not want ANYONE to go through this heartache and pain.  I actually wish that this didn't happen in the world.  You know, you get married, you have your family, your live happily ever after and no one dies, and no one has pain and heartache and grief.  Unfortunately, the world is not full of puppies and rainbows and vanilla scented unicorn farts! It is messy and hard and painful, but it is worth it.   

This weekend is the family camp out.  We are packed and ready to go.   My brother will be staying with his son, his wife will be at home with their daughter.   From what I understand, most families will be "half" families.   This knowledge doesn't help me feel less lonely.  For some reason it makes it more so.   

Eye of the Storm

Have you ever lived through a hurricane?  When they talk about the "calm before the storm" or the "eye of the storm" it is a real thing and it is eerie.

We went through several while we lived in Houston.  The eye is a surreal experience.  You have been pounded and pounded by wind and rain and then it stops.   Just as suddenly, it stops.   It is quiet and calm, and on more than one occasion, the sunshine came out for a bit and the animals started to peek out.   

Then BAM! Out of nowhere it starts again, the wind the rain, the hail.  It is relentless.  

When you come out the other side, when the storm finally passes, you hope that is the end.  You look and you see the sun, you see the debris, you see the damage.  You see your neighbors.   Everyone is helping.  You chat, you wonder if there will be any "trailing".   You know, other storms that follow the hurricane. 

Grief is kind of like that.  At first it beats you up.  The wind howls, the tears fall, you rock yourself to try and find some solace.  It takes a lot of time but believe it or not, you actually get used to the storm and you start to slowly go about your daily duties.  You get dressed, you do the dishes, you do housework.   After such a long time of being under siege, you are used to functioning at that same capacity.   You wipe your tears, you sleep when you are too exhausted to cry.  If you are lucky you have a great support system to cheer you on. 

One day you wake up, and you smile.  A nearly imperceptible smile, but a smile nonetheless.  You are in the eye of the storm.  You go about your life, you put one food in front of the other you notice the sun on your face, you feel a gentle breeze.  You survey the changes in you and the changes around you. 

You hope and you pray that it is a big eye.   That the storm give you enough of a break to actually clean up and repair a little bit.  You look at the storm behind you and you are grateful that you survived.  You don't take your time in the eye for granted.  Oh no, you know that the other side of the storm looms.  You have no idea when it will hit, but you know in your soul that it will. 

You feel it come, the winds whip at your face and the tears start to fall.   Perhaps it was because you smelled something or touched something that reminded you of life before the storm.  But know this, when you are in the second side of the storm, you stand a little taller, you don't hunker down quite as long.  You have done this once.

The knowledge that you have already survived the worst gives you the strength to stand up and move.  It doesn't stop the tears and the pain, but it does give you the fortitude to push through.   After all, nothing that the second side of the storm throws at you will be as shocking or as crazy as when the storm first came to uproot your life.   You know you can do this because you can.

 It doesn't mean that you go  running and chasing hurricanes-it simply means that when they come to rest at your door, you know that you can survive what they bring. 

Families

So this quarter, munchkin has been studying families in school.  They take care in class to recognize that families are different.   I appreciate that-however, I am wondering why on earth they are spending so much time on this topic?

This process has been hard for me...I have taken care to not label us as "different".  I have taken great care to keep us as "normal" as possible.  I answer his questions when he asks them...which up until now, has been sporadic at best. 

Lately, it has been a near daily topic. 

Mommy, I want daddy back.
Munchkin, people can't come back from Heaven
Mommy, but everyone else has a daddy in class, can you go get me a new daddy?
Munchkin, it doesn't work that way. 
Mommy, can you just go back and marry daddy again?
Munchkin, I can't marry daddy again as much as I would like to, he is in Heaven and no matter how much we love and miss him he can't come back.
Mommy, it isn't fair that daddy is an angel.
Munchkin, you are right, it isn't fair, but it will be ok.

uhhh...not sure which is more unsettling as an adult.   The fact that his little heart and brain want Robert back from the dead, or that he thinks a "new daddy"  would make it better.   While my brain knows that he is simply trying to fit us "in" to the mold of his classmates, it doesn't really help. 

What strikes me is that I have to have this conversation with a FIVE YEAR OLD!  When I was five, I recall playing in our play room with my brother, making cookies with my mom and playing in the yard with dad.   I remember preschool and kindergarten--well I mostly remember the cardboard bricks.   I don't remember having any deep conversations with my parents.  We had people in our family die, but not in our immediate family.   I remember being carefree.  

What cuts to the core of my heart, is that my son has an understanding of loss.  He has experienced pain that many people go decades without even considering.  Even if he doen't express it as pain per se, he is learning as he grows how unique we are.

Maybe in my attempt to make him feel like we are normal I have done him a disservice.  Perhaps I am pretending to be normal, to be whole.  Maybe what I should do is embrace our "un-normal" situation.   Really, it is not normal to watch your spouse die in front of you.   It is not a choice that I would expect anyone to make. 

For him it isn't normal for a parent to be widowed.   He has some classmates that have divorced parents--but the kids still have TWO parents on EARTH.  They get to hang out with their dads even if they live with their moms.  He is the only kid in his class that has an angel for a parent and while I realize that it makes us special, for now, in this unit when studying with his peers, it makes him different.  Somehow, it is my job to make different ok.