clickmom

funeral day

After grandma's funeral I headed right back to utopia. The funeral was a nice funeral. My rabbi from stepford did the ceremony, and that was extra nice for me. It was easier listening to someone I know talk about grandma, who had learned about grandma after chatting with lil sis and me, so all the grandma memories were tailored to everything about grandma that was relevant to me (and lil sis).

If you are wondering, and I would be too, scumcle and the ice queen were there. She shed a tear during the ceremony and I figure it one of three things that got to her. Either she was crying because the pain of her pinky toe sticking sideways out of her strappy orthopedic sandals was too much to bear or she had just realized that she could have been playing tennis instead attending the funeral or it was the realization that she would never again be able to steal anymore jewelry from grandma. Scumcle was basically quiet. He didn't say a word (like "I should pay for that") when the funeral director told him that I had written checks to the funeral home, the cemetery and the rabbi. He did mumble something about mashed potatoes when the rabbi said grandma was a good cook, but the kicker came after the ceremony when the rabbi, in an attempt to comfort me, said what a good job I had done taking care of grandma and how I had gotten her the best care possible, and scumcle hopped right over saying "No, actually, that it isn't true, you see mom was in so much pain...." and I just turned and walked away.

Lil sis and I drove back together. When I got back to utopia I walked into the house, dropped into my bed, slept on and off for 2 hours, only waking briefly to see what kind of steel (yes, steel!) jewelry they were hawking on one of the shopping channels. I might need some of that.

I had a girls night out planned with some utopian friends for tonight. They gave me the chance to back out, but I said I needed to go. We went out to dinner and a movie. We saw momma mia which was a movie the husband would have never seen, and now I know why. I will say that Pierce Brosnan should be forbidden from ever singing again, that Meryl Streep can really sing and I, being recently unmothered and all, probably should not have seen a movie whose theme was that a mother is all you really need. It was cheesy and silly and I will most likely be downloading abba songs of my youth in the morning.

Now I am reluctant to go to sleep, just like I was right after mom died. I don't know what it is, but going to sleep .... I just don't want to do it! Nights suck for me these days.

grandma

STUFF GRANDMA TAUGHT ME

Turn ordinary outings into adventures.
Be kind to animals. Feed them when you can.
Play with babies.
Walk as far as you can as often as you can.
Be honest.
I am special.

Grandma
1912-2008

closet post

I wrote and rewrote that damned mom's closet post 3 1/2 times and I could never figure out exactly what it was about the closet that was so... significant and revealing to me. I couldn't get my words around what it was that I was trying to convey.

Here is the readers digest version of the closet novella:

1. The jam packed over sized walk in closet was always kind of a frightening mystery to me.

2. The wastefulness of all those clothes, shoes, and purses offended my frugal sensibility.

3. That was about all I felt about mom's closet until I spent three days in the closet cleaning it out. (Yes, there was that much stuff)

4. This closet and all the time, effort and money that mom spent shopping and selecting and trying things on, all that conscious brain power and drive just to get the exact shade of green shoes, is mom's, kind of lame if you ask me, legacy to us.

5. Again, after a brief 68 years on this planet my mom left a perfectly organized by color, print, season, designer, and size closet of barely worn clothes, shoes and purses. This was all she wrote. That closet was it. That closet and taking care of dad were the only things mom ever did.

6. At mom's funeral I silently thought that if one more person told me what a great dresser mom was I was going to bash their head in.

7. As badly as dad wanted that closet cleaned out, he was beaming with pride over that closet. Dad thought that every single item in that closet was precious. Because mom picked it out.

8. Mom spent her entire life shopping and spending tons of money because it was the way she made dad happy. Dad wanted mom to buy new pretty clothes every day of her life because he enjoyed seeing his "beautiful blondie" all dressed up. Again for me: Dad wanted mom to throw his hard earned money away on too many clothes (enough for a whole troop of homemakers) because he adored her so and thought she was the most beautiful woman ever while Mom was doing it all because she was devoted to making dad happy.

9. I still don't really get it. But I am trying to wrap my mind around the meaning of the closet as opposed to the excessiveness of it. What it means, what that closet really represented was (I think) the unparalleled mutual admiration and passion mom and dad had for each other, swaddled in a twisted consumerist package, but still..... they had quite the extraordinary love story going on there.

I wuv my boyz

I am too much of a techno-dunce to actually embed this video, so you'll have click over to see it. Wait, I think I did it! I heard this event happening behind closed doors and contemplated sneaking upstairs to spy out a video for myself but I didn't have to! Luckily for me Matt was already making one. Sorry about that. And you should know that it is not Matt's real voice. He is doing a plankton imitation here.

turkey poo

I took dad and the kids to lil sis' house today. The boys love to play with their cousins and also play in lil sis' pool. The kids were frolicking in the pool while depressed me and tired lil sis were trying to have adult type conversation. The boys kept saying something about poop in the pool and to be honest we brushed them off a few times, because we were all like puh-LEASE just give us a minute to talk!! And really, it's lil sis' pool so it wasn't like strangers were stopping by to leave deposits, you know? And then we stopped ignoring the boys and went over to see what they were talking about. Lil sis was dressed n street clothes and she took some goggles to kneel at the side of the pool and stick her head under water. I had my suit on so I grabbed goggles and dove right in. I was about to pick up what I thought might be a rock when I had second thoughts. So I got lil sis' pool net and I scooped up the not a rock and you will not believe what the kids were swimming with. They were swimming with this.

Gross.

Do you think I have to get the kids tested for avian flu?

Grandma needs so much painkiller right now that she is mostly asleep all the time. She is not really eating, so her time is coming soon. I am heading down to see her again on Thursday. Lil sis is coming too. Part of me hopes grandma goes right away and part of me hopes she hangs on until I am home so I can spend more time with her even if she is asleep when I am there. I already miss her, since she hasn't been the vivacious and exciting grandma I adore for so long, but never seeing her again is going to be .... forever and that's worse.

I'm really torn between being here and spending time with dad and being home and saying goodbye to grandma. I don't know what to do anymore. Maybe next week I can bring the whole family home for a few days and then just come back up here for the weekend. I don't think dad wants to go home to Stepford with me because the last time he was there was last fall when mom was still alive and mom and dad still had a tiny thread of hope to hold on to.

Hard, this is so hard. All I want to do is the right thing. I am still living in fear that after all is said and done I will have regrets, and I can't bear the thought of living with regrets. I do recognize that I could be making this more difficult than it has to be, in a way. Can this ever be not difficult?

Tonight there was an orange moon. I have no idea what that means, and please recall that I left my real camera at home, so I didn't even bother attempting a photo, but here is one from the town carnival over the full moon that I took with my crappy point and shoot.

And speaking of the town carnival, I think the full moon made the local kids turn into zombies. Check out Evan's swing mates from the swing ride. Good thing we got away fast after that ride. Really, click on the picture and just look at those ghouls girls.

And since nothing is ever easy, my porch swing that showed up maybe three weeks ago is already getting moldy. Check out what just might push me completely over the edge. And while you are at it, see if you can notice that the mold is on the inside of the woven material too.

eagle

This morning Josh came into my bed and I hugged him. Except it was more like I was trying to get a hug from him because I put my head on his chest and that made me feel guilty that I was doing more of a taking hug than a giving hug on my 7 year old. Then I lifted my head and I looked at his face and I paused to admire his lips and I thought about how warm and genuine his smile is and I told him "I love your smile." And he smiled at me. And I took my finger and I traced his lips trying to permanently etch the fuzziness of his still baby upper lip and the softness of his not as yet weathered skin in my memory. But what I was feeling and what I was doing did not connect. I might as well have been on the other side of a one way mirror because even though I was thinking about and gently touching the wonderfulness that is my youngest baby I barely felt a thing. I felt dead inside and I knew at the second that when I thought I might be getting depressed last night I was right. This is me depressed. I am numb.

And I am weary. So weary. I am too weary to hear the children squabble and I am too weary to attend to any of their complaints. Fixing a meal seems like an extraordinary feat and most of all making chit chat with strangers, well, that just isn't going to happen.

That's why I slipped away from the annual lake picnic today to hang with a friend who doesn't ever go to the picnic. And when the husband who was mysteriously late bringing the kids in from tubing on the boat to the picnic called to say he was stranded I happily hopped into the friend's boat to go and help rescue my family. It was a no brainer, it meant more time away from the picnic and less stranger chit chat. On our way to the opposite end of the lake for the rescue I looked up and saw the eagle flying over us. At first I wasn't sure it was the eagle but then she circled around and I could see her white head stark against her black shoulders. It was her. I was so happy. I tried to tell myself that seeing the eagle for the first time this summer on the day that was my lowest day was a good sign. A sign that means that things are going to get better.

I've been depressed before and I am good at concealing it. Most people would never suspect a thing. Is that good? I don't know, it is what it is, it is how I do it. I stay busy, look as normal as possible and eventually the depression just lifts. It's always a great moment when my chemistry rights itself again. Colors seem brighter, sounds clearer and smells crisper. It's like Dorothy falling asleep in gray Kansas and waking up into the technicolor land of Oz. For now I surrender to the lows, knowing that if I just ride the ride the highs are somewhere around the bend.

stink

Last night, between pathetic crying jags, I slapped some Kinoki pads on my feet before I went to bed. I half way thought they might explode somewhere in the middle of the night due to my personal heavy heavy metal load, but much to my happy surprise they made it through. The pads clam to absorb a person's metabolic waste, impurities, and heavy metals, so you can imagine that I was imagining some kind of pad revolt once the pads became overwhelmed on my heavy metal laden feet. But instead of the sizzling pads in the middle if the night scene that I feared, the pads felt warm on application and were only mildly annoying during the night. As soon as I rolled over this morning I tore them off and marveled in the gray green pad stain that was supposed to represent my own personal toxic blend discharging out of the bottom of my feet. In a moment of childish curiosity and braveness I snuck a sniff so incase you are wondering, my personal special blend of toxic smells like processed meat. Josh and I think it might be the scent of teriyaki beef jerky. I want the husband to slap a pad on his feet tonight because I feel quite certain he will wake up with carmel colored pads that smell like diet coke. But I don't think he is going to play along.

Today we had lunch with a family we met recently. I will call them (because it wouldn't be fair to use their real name when I am not using mine) as The Paperlords. While driving around yesterday Evan asked "Do you think the enemy of the Paperlords are named The Treehuggers?" Even the Paperlords got a kick out of that one. Anyway, the Paperlords invited us over today and I felt so bad that I could barely talk to them. And after lunch they wanted to go out in their boat but I begged out of it and instead crashed for 2 hours. I am quite certain that I am having a little depression here.

The trap I fall into when feeling depressed is telling myself "Of course I am depressed! Look what I have been through!" and then I don't get help or even talk about the depression much.

aftermath

I have about 3 functioning brain synapses right now. One is sorrow, one is despair and the other one is depressed. The wonderful hospice people are still trying to figure out which incredibly addictive pain killer cocktail grandma needs to manage her pain, as of this morning they were upping doses and moving into some more hard core stuff. Morphine isn't enough. I went to see grandma and she was still rocking with the pain. She could barely open her eyes and focus and it was killing me. I couldn't keep it together and ended releasing torrents of silent tears. Just when I thought it couldn't break my heart anymore grandma whispered out "Don't worry. I'm okay. I'm okay." I was flattened that she was, through this incredible pain, concerned about me. I love her. And seeing her suffer was the worst. I am torn right through It didn't seem possible that I had to choose between having to head back to utopia where dad was all alone and staying home to hold grandma's hand. I had to come back here, dad was alone and at least grandma had the staff.

The hospice aide told me that something about grandma brought her to tears. She said she didn't normally get so emotional, but with grandma she often found herself crying. Then the nursing home aide came in to try to coax grandma into taking her medicines and she actually knew grandma from the OFH. She said that she cried when grandma was in pain, and how that was not what a nurse was supposed to do, but that she couldn't help it because she remembered grandma from before. And I was overwhelmed that these ladies were so caring and the three of us stood there all teary eyed and I knew that I had chosen a good place for grandma to be.

And then it wasn't long before I had to go.

Pretty much I wept the entire car ride back up.

Since I was the one driving that wasn't the best move.

Just as I drove past the half way mark I realized that I had left my real camera at home. I was livid with myself. All summer long I have been psyching myself up to do some work even though I do not feel inspired,, my creativity is no where to be found, and I told myself that this week I was going to finally get serious and do some shooting. I was so angry about forgetting the camera that I punched myself And when that didn't hurt enough I did it again and then I actually slapped myself across the face. And probably I could have gone on with more but I suddenly realized that Matt, who was the only kid not watching a video in the car, was watching me and getting frightened. So I went back to simply crying and he gently told me that he didn't think it was about the camera. And he was right.

My face stung for almost an hour afterwards.

guilty

So, after an excrutiating long morning of nursing home meetings, hospice workers (still swimming in adoration for them by the way), and finally a trip to the funeral home to make pre-arrangements, I found myself strewn across Boops's couch staring blankly at a yawner of a Dr. Phil episode. It worked for me. I was brain dead.

Our kids are playing downstairs. Another boy, Evan's age, is over too.

Towards the end of the show, Boops turns to me and says in a dreamy kind of unimpressed tone, "I am concerned about that other boy being scarred down there." We discuss how first born children can be so innocent and unsuspecting when playing with the more savvy younger siblings.

Then Boops's kid marches into the room and says "Click! Can you make Evan stop!?!?!" "Stop what?" the moms, suddenly sitting up straight and now quite alert, answer in unison. "Well, he did this thing with a scarf ... he's wearing it and he calls it his man-thong."

make mine pleasant

Sometimes Josh unintentionally speaks with this accent that he didn't get from me. It's some kind of cross between Macaulay Culkin and Thurston Howell III. Wherever Josh picked that accent up I do not know. What I do know is that every time I hear the accent I want to hand Josh a big box of crook foiling gadgets and tie an ascot around his neck. I am going to have train him to sing out "Coming Lovey!" every time I screech "JOSH! DINNER!" It would make my life so much more pleasant.

Speaking of pleasant, I am totally in phone love with the hospice social worker and nurse/case worker assigned to grandma. If these fine women are the same in their real life as they are in their professional life then I am planning on seeking out some hospice employed lady friends, because HELLO! I think I may have met the finest people ever. Obviously, we are in agreement about grandma's treatment (lack of amputation) and that helps, but the ladies are willing to spend time on the phone with scumcle to see if they can bring him around to the sane side. Saints, right? I'm sitting here wishing for that problem solving bus to appear and these ladies are trying to coordinate a meeting for all involved to help him understand.

Those ladies are incredible.

And tonight, when I lay my head on the pillow I am going to stop for a moment and thank the powers that be for bringing such amazing women into my life. Today, I owe them my sanity.