Today’s the day

We’re about to get started loading the truck.  I won’t have the internet until the cable co gets service hooked up at the new place.  Check back in a week or so and I’ll resume posting.  Thank you all for your kind thoughts and well wishes.

Megan, Signing off.

Moving tomorrow

I haven’t had a lot of time to write this week and it’s bugging me. Here are some thoughts I wrote on post it notes Tuesday night, while I was wishing I had a laptop.  Context:  This was at the house we want while the home inspection was going on.  I had taken the kids to the playground for a long time, but it started to rain, so we walked back to the house.  I didn’t have a car and Bert was at work, so we had to wait so we could do the walk through with the inspector.  Here are the notes, which I don’t have time to edit or turn into sentences at the moment*, and apparently I wrote it in the present tense:

Sitting here, waiting to find out.  Baby is nursing, Beren is close.  He’ll fall asleep eventually.  The house is so quiet with no appliances, fans, or computers.  Heavy rain.  This is peaceful.  We watch the rain together.  Cemetery across the street is visible through large living room window.  Cemetery is probably old - very thin headstones, green on top with moss.  Some newer looking ones, flags with metal stars, vets.  The road cuts through and the hill is held back by cement retaining wall.  Bunnies, birds, under the trees out of the rain.  Beren is so still and he snuggles close.  We sit on the floor and watch water slowly soak down that retaining wall. It runs down in lazy waves, making the wall different colors.  It looks like a dull aurora borealis.  It takes a long time.  There are cracks in wall that turn white, like they’ve been patched with something.  The rain stops, both kids sleep.  The wall starts to dry from the top down.  The color of dryness creeps, leaving a spiky graph.  The graph varies wildly and could be my highs and lows for the year.  Such joy and such sorrow so close together.  Never have I had such family conflict.  I can’t even make myself care enough to feel anger right now.  We’re so close to being free.  I just have to sit here and wait a little longer to find out what kind of free we will be.  Our own house, possibly making a mistake.  Or another’s house, intruding on someone else in our path to freedom.  I wouldn’t do it to her, but we are desperate and she loves us.

As far as I know, Bert and I are in no danger of getting divorced.  But, sitting here, I want to vow that I will do everything I can to make sure our marriage does not end.  I don’t mean sticking together for no reason if we become miserable, but rather giving our love enough attention that we never become dissatisfied with each other.  Lots of good reasons to nurture a relationship, but today my only motive for my vow is so my kids never have another woman in their lives.  No one will be these kids’ mother but me.  No one will be their father but Bert.  I couldn’t stand some step mother reading to them or singing them to sleep.  Some woman undermining all my teachings.

But that’s not my reason either.  It is a damn nasty thing to do to a child to put someone over them who has no responsibility to them.  To insert someone into their life who looks and acts like a parent, but who is really just keeping up the pretense of an artificial relationship for the sake of the real parent.  Even if step and child were special to one another, there are no strings that bind once real parent is out of the picture.  There is just a memory of how you used to act together and how there is no real reason it will stay the same.  So I will work as hard as I can so my kids will never be left in a position of dependency on a step parent.  If it is this bad as an adult, I can’t imagine what it would do to the little kids.

So now I continue to sit here and wait.  The hour is almost here.  The wall is dry.  The kids sleep.  And soon we will find out if we’ll be on our own, or temporarily back in the clutch of dependency, but this time in the hands of a responsible person.

———————————————————-

The inspection was unfavorable, to put it mildly.  The seller will not negotiate.  We’re walking away from this one and we will keep trying through the disappointment.  The right thing will come along.  For now we are just happy to be getting out of a bad situation.  Even if we are not entering into our ideal scenario, it will still be okay and we’ll find a way to work things out.  If you know my step mother, I ask that you do not tell her where we are going for now.  I need time and space before I can patch that mess up.

*or censor.  A lot of what I have said lately has been taken in the worst way possible and I want to be clear that I’m not trying to be offensive to anyone here.  There are lots of step parents that are excellent and do treat their step children as their own.  I consider step parents and adoptive parents to be completely different things.  Steps are in it for the marriage, not the kids.  Adoptive parents have made a commitment to the children and are the real parents, as far as I’m concerned.

Weekly Beren 17

Dear Beren,

A lightning bug got in the bath with you.  Although you held it under water sometimes, you were so careful with it.  It lived and you brought it out of the bath and into the living room with you.  There it got away.  I was impressed with how gentle you were with it.  You were so interested in everything about it.

You crawled through the mulberries that had fallen to the ground and got giant purple bruise-like stains on your knees and legs!  The color did not all come off in the bath.  You look like an abuse victim now!

Saturday you climbed onto the sofa next to your sister and asked me to take a picture. I think you secretly like her.

Just 3 days ago Magdalena was crying and you wanted to help.  You ran to sit in the rocking chair and pulled the Boppy nursing pillow around yourself.  Then you indicated you wanted her to be on the pillow.  I laid her down and she stopped crying because she knows what the Boppy means.  You pulled up your shirt and softly told her, “Nipples, nipples.”  She was confused, realized something wasn’t right, and started crying again.  I had to pick her up, but I thanked you for helping. You are just the sweetest little boy ever.

This morning you hit me to wake me up. I asked you why you did that.  You thought about several answers and rejected them (I could recognize the process on your face) and finally you came up with a hopeful grin and said, “A joke?”  Nice try.

We listened to a ton of Beatles songs while packing.  Your favorite to sing along with is Come Together.  Those are tough lyrics for a little boy, what with phrases like “juju eyeballs” and “mojo filter,” so you mostly made up your own words and occasionally raised your voice in a joyful toddler high note.

You really know how to just be happy, Beren.

Love, Mommy

Moving update

Sorry the posting has been light lately.  Please stick with me. I anticipate a small lapse in internet access with the move.  The big day is Friday.  I don’t know where we are going yet, but we aren’t staying here!

I’ve been caring for the kids, packing, packing, and more packing, and also contemplating a career in writing smut.  As AJ has pointed out to me, smart people like to read about sex too and they deserve something well written.

We are overrun with boxes of our stuff.  Where did all this stuff come from and why is it in our apartment?  It amazes me that at some point we spent money on almost every single thing here (the exceptions would be my dad’s things that he left when he moved out and the free hand-me-down furniture and gifts, but someone had to buy those too).  Not only did we spend money, we had to drive our happy butts to the store, burning gas and putting miles on our car, and then spend precious time, which could have been used for sleeping, deciding to spend money on this stuff.  Why didn’t we save our money for non-heavy objects, like inflatable furniture?  If we hadn’t bought all this junk, there would be less to pack and we’d have some money.  I should remember this for the future.

Out There

Today I was driving along the Turnpike.  The trees were thick on both sides of the road, like I was moving right through a forest.  Most of our area is green, but this was really verdant.  The leaves were so plentiful and there were already blankets of kudzu over some areas.  It looked dark under the canopy and I couldn’t see very far into the woods.  I thought about how wild it was and I remembered some nature pictures Jo sent me of Kanapaha, which is a huge garden and lake in Florida.  I realized that I have had Beren off the beaten trail only a few times in his life.  Really, how often do we go more than even a few feet off the pavement?  How many times have we gone somewhere we didn’t drive to?  Last summer Beren and I walked to the river a lot, but we can still see the road the whole time.  It’s amazing to think how much undeveloped land is left around here.  The wild is right there, just past our comfort zones.  I’ve come to think of this part of the state as being so developed, since everywhere I typically go has buildings, cars, and, you know, toilets.  But really there’s so much there to take advantage of.  We’ve had Beren to the place we camp on the Allegheny River once.  He was less than a year old and he rode in a backpack baby carrier as we hiked.  We took him on the canoes last Labor Day, which you can read about here.  Pennsic takes place in a campground, but it’s still very close to civilization.  Beren’s also been to my uncle’s farm in Maryland, which has a lot of undisturbed land.  But that’s about it.  Once things settle and we’re all a little more physically capable, I resolve to get the kids Out There more.  How else are they supposed to develop a sense of adventure and a love of exploration?  I want them to see the places you can’t get to by car and not to experience life from the couch.  I’ve also renewed my interest in doing a week long hiking trip, which is a fire my sister sparked in my mind over a year ago.  We’ll get to it some day, Lynn!

Weekly Beren 16

Dear Beren,

There is a walker with a seat and wheels at our aunt’s house.  When we went over on Saturday night, you had Chris and Barb push you around in it for a long time.

You spent the night at Mum Mum’s house.  In the morning, you brought Orb Cat in to sit with you and Mum Mum.  Orb Cat is a spherical resin lawn ornament with cat features that is kind of creepy until you get used to it.  Then it’s cute.  Aunt Lynn and I saw it and just had to buy it for Mum Mum years and years ago. While the three of you were sitting together, Mum Mum asked you what you wanted for breakfast.  You said, “Pancakes.”  Then you thought you’d better ask Orb Cat what he wanted.  You asked him, “Pancakes?  Or chocolate?”  You ended up with pancakes.

We went for a walk and you had a lot of fun discovering that pine cones float like little boats for a little while when you throw them in near lake-sized mud puddles.

You say “Magdalena” like “Lalalena.”  I was pleased that you asked to hold her in your lap on Saturday without me prompting you.  Usually I just put her there and you both look at me like it is awkward for you.

I am amazed at your attention to detail.  You have Lightning McQueen, which is a toy car from the movie Cars.  The tiniest dot of red paint came off him.  This concerned you deeply and you found the spot and brought it to me.  I can’t believe you even saw it - it was the tiniest speck.

Yesterday you kissed your baby sister on the cheek while you thought I wasn’t looking.

You love it when we blow bubbles.  For some reason, you always want to pop them with your mouth.  Good thing it says “Non-toxic!”

You use your potty several times a day.  Not for the purpose of waste elimination, but as a step stool, so you can look out the fire escape door in your relentless pursuit of motor vehicle watching.

I love to watch you play with the guitar.  I wonder if you’ll just teach yourself eventually, using all the wrong finger positions, just like when self-taught Mommy types.  I think it’s great how you are confident that Daddy can play any song on the guitar.  He gives it a shot and you are thrilled, even if it doesn’t sound much like the requested song.

You are having a lot of anxiety about the upcoming move and (I imgaine) from all the stress Mommy is radiating.  I’m sorry, Beren.  I think things are going to get easier very soon.

Love, Mommy

Magdalena news

At 5:18 AM on Monday, Bert and I had just gotten into bed.  I told him that exactly 4 weeks ago, I had been holding Magdalena and told her she was one hour old.  We listened to her snorts, squeals, and sputters and agreed that it was really nice to hear newborn baby noises again.  Then we wondered if she was actually going to stay asleep.

Last Saturday I put a little dress on her.  She kept pulling the hem up to put it in her mouth.  She looked so pleased to be sucking on this dress.

She is producing a lot of smiles these days.  Sometimes she’ll bury her face in my shirt as soon as the smile kicks in.  I think that might have more to do with her neck muscles not being strong enough yet than shyness.  It has happened a couple times that I’ve been holding her while she looks around. Then I’ll say something and she’ll look at me.  Apparently she is surprised to see me because she gets a big grin like she just realized I was there.

I have heard her make several neutral noises, where she is intentionally vocalizing, but not crying.  I believe these will some day evolve into much anticipated cooing and happy noises.

I still have not had a moment to get started on her baby book or my birth story.

Housing update

We are signing the sales agreement for the house tonight!  The home inspection and pest inspection will take place on the 30th!  We’re making progress!

I really hope everything looks good and we decide to buy the house.  Something would have to be really wrong with it for us not to take it.  I am so anxious to move.  My step mother just told me yesterday that she’s signing our current home up for a “tour of houses,” which means realtors would be parading through here.  Ugh!

Father’s Day

When I think about him, my chest feels tight.  I can feel all of these emotions churning and coming to a slow boil under the surface, putting pressure on me, like my body isn’t big enough to hold all this.  Then the tears come out.  It seems like they should be spraying, since there is so much pressure inside and the eyes are such tiny outlets.  Real tears only come streaming out of my right eye.  On the left side, the saline just makes a pool over the surface of my eye.  I am sure I’ve had this defect all my life, since I had surgery on my left tear duct shortly after birth, but I never really cried hard enough or long enough to discover its limitations before.

The last time I talked to him was January 12th, 2009 at 5:30 PM for 7 minutes and 9 seconds, about 13 hours before his death.  The time before that was the same day at 1:05 PM for 10 minutes and 40 seconds.  What did I say during those conversations?  Not enough.  I learned of his condition, listened to what the doctors had told him, and felt like he was in the right place - on his way to Shadyside Hospital where they would do some tests in the morning.  Beren talked to him for a minute during the first conversation and told him that trains go on tracks.  I told him I loved him both times and almost the last thing he said to me was that he was going to do what he needed to in order to get better.  “I love you” and “goodbye” were the last things I ever heard him say.  So maybe we did say enough during our last 18 minutes of cell phone contact.  Even if I did know it was the last time I would talk to him, what could I have said besides “I love you”?  “I wish it didn’t have to end” or “I will miss you” would have been appropriate, but he knew those things already.

Dad floating on his back in the Allegheny River with Beren on his chest. Labor Day weekend, 2008, 4 months before his death.

This has been a tough day.  I had hoped Father’s Day wouldn’t bother me so much.  We always did something for Dad on this day, but deep down I always considered it to be a greeting card holiday.  Worse than a greeting card holiday, I thought it was a day like Veterans Day, where we take one woefully inadequate day to honor a group of people so we don’t have to feel bad about treating them poorly the rest of the year.  Now that I have kids, I have a much clearer picture of how much gratitude we owe our parents.

Little things have been setting me off today.  I took my children for a walk into town and we passed the florist.  Jo and her family sent me flowers from that store the day after Dad died.  I remember the logo on the delivery van as it pulled in to give me my arrangement.  The man who runs the store came himself and he was trying to convey that he was sorry for my loss, but we ended up just being two sad-looking people standing in the cold January air, unable to express anything.  The flowers said something though.  They were beautiful. It was nice to know I was loved and that my pain, a whole family’s pain, was recognized with empathy.

Flowers just for me, not for the viewing, or the funeral, but just for me and my husband and son to look at and know we were remembered.

I shed tears because of some other flowers today too.  While I nursed my baby, nourishing her tiny new life, I looked at the roses from the funeral that I dried.  Funeral flowers are sacred.  They are a delicate reminder of how beautiful and fragile life is. They are a sending of our wishes for the dead.  Dad and Magdalena missed each other by only 4 months and 12 days.  I wish they had had a chance to meet.

Love preserved.

I am glad that today I have been feeling only a pure sorrow concerning Dad’s death.  Today there hasn’t been anger, no dwelling on the complications.  Just some fond memories and such a sense of loss.

Christmas 2008, 3 weeks left.

I’ve made a lot of Father’s Day blueberry pies over the years.  Dad usually had a bottle of Captain Morgan’s around.  I’ve always flavored the pie with the spiced amber liquid.  We don’t have any rum this year.  We don’t have any Dad this year.  I used lemon juice and cinnamon in the pie.  Just like all the other things we’ve changed to adapt to life without him, it will have to be good enough.

Dad on his last Father's Day, 2008

This one's for you, Dad.

An update

Here’s what’s up with us:

My depression is fading in and out.  I have even skipped the crying some days.  I’m hoping that it will be mostly gone in another week or so.

I am determined to do something about buying the house this week.  I just cannot stay here much longer, or else I am sure some sort of breakdown is in order.  Yesterday Bert was hugging me and I told him to tell me that we will make progress.  He said, “We will make progress on the house this week.”  That sounded good.  I asked him to say it again.

We’re having a little family dinner for Bert for Father’s Day tonight after he gets off work.  His blueberry pie is baking right now.  This is his first Father’s Day with both a son and a daughter.

My kids are just great.  I love having two of them, but it is just overwhelming sometimes.  I have not yet figured out how to drive both of them to the store by myself.  If we walk, I can just put Magdalena in the Snugli carrier (looks like a backpack that you wear on your chest and put the baby in) and Beren can walk holding my hand.  Of course we are limited to buying only what I can carry home in one hand that way.  When we go in the car, getting that infant car seat carrier out and keeping a toddler safe is just a little much.  Maybe when I get better at inserting the baby in the wearable Snugli carrier I can just bring it along and put her in it before I get Beren out of his car seat.

The other morning (like 3 AM) Magdalena got spit up on my night shirt, so I just went back to bed without a shirt, rather than digging around in the drawers for a clean one and waking her up again.  Eventually she found her way into bed with me.  Babies like to snuggle next to their parents’ skin.  She is just so nice to hold close.  When she wiggles around by my belly, it feels so much like when she was moving inside, except from the opposite direction.  Beren came to bed later in the morning and he laid with his back against mine.  Even older babies like to be next to their parents.  I could feel the little knobs of his spine pressed against me.  I remembered that one of the first things the technician said when I got an ultrasound of gestating Beren was that he had a perfectly formed spine.  It’s funny how you cling to and remember any little bits of information they can give you about your baby while you are waiting to meet him.  Even if it is some weird comment like, “Woah!  Nice spine!”

I have been depending on other family members (especially Bert and Mom) to help me with Beren while I tend Magdalena on outings.  Toddler chase is a full time job and so is caring for a newborn.  But, lots of moms manage it.  I hope that my body will be back up to par soon and I’ll be able to do more.  I’m handling the two of them pretty well at home alone.  Of course these are familiar, safe surroundings and there are plenty of toys to entertain Beren, so it’s a little easier here.

Magdalena has had her first smiles.  You can see them coming because she smiles with her whole body.  It starts in her eyes, where she gets this playful squint.  Then her limbs will do some excited movements.  Then her mouth drifts open, her cheeks pull up a little, and there it is!  They don’t last long, but her smiles are really pretty and very gratifying.

I wonder what Magdalena dreams about.  I bet it’s just concepts at this point: warmth, comfort, the sensation of diaper rash. Her mouth makes nursing motions in her sleep and I like to think she’s dreaming of nursing.  Beren still does that sometimes during times of stress and I hope he’s dreaming of some good, comforting memories.

I had Magdalena to the pediatrician for her 3 week well baby checkup.  She’s gaining weight and she is healthy. I haven’t kept track of how long/often we nurse, or of how many wet/soiled diapers she’s having each day.  I have an idea, but I’m not writing it down like I did for so long with Beren.  I remember that things didn’t really fall into place with our routine until I quit doing that.  So this time it all feels a litte more natural and it’s going smoothly.  I could tell the doctor was trying to reassure me that she was getting enough milk and gaining enough weight, but I knew that already.  Oh how I wish I could have had this kind of confidence when Beren was born!

Besides the depression, I think my recovery is going more smoothly too.  I’m healing and in much less pain.  My joints are going back together. I think it is taking me less time mentally to get over this too.  After Beren was born, I was ready to not have a body for a while.  There were so many appointments and exams, and the delivery and hospital stay, and all the pain, and the knowledge of the stitches, and wondering if I’d ever get better, and the whole process of breastfeeding, and even what an ordeal it was just to go to the bathroom, and all the tiredness from sleep deprivation.  I was focusing on my body a lot.  If I could have existed in an energy state and let my body hibernate somewhere, I would have.  Even after things seemed to be healing, I still felt like my body had seen so much traffic that it took a long time to even think about things like seriously losing the baby weight or ever having sex again (which isn’t a good idea for at least 6 weeks anyway).  This time I feel more casual about all of it.  I know I’ll get better eventually and I just have to hang in there until it happens.  My thoughts about my body seem to be like they usually are, rather than feeling trapped in a broken form.  Again, I wish I had this kind of confidence the first time around!