Bodie's shown no improvement. Dad's gone to say good-bye, but before he left, he finally declared that being a cold-hearted bastard is not all it's cracked up to be. We were all a little teary, and no one is happy about this.
Dad, I'm sorry. Bodie was a good dog, and Blake & I loved her. I hope your next pup lasts almost as long and does your heart as good as Heidi did.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
puppy love
Oh yes, and one more thing: my dad's dog is overnighting it at the vet. We are hoping she is alive come morning with much more vim and vigor than THIS morning. She started acting funny on Thursday, and by Friday was largely incontinent and stiff in her hind legs. After a late afternoon vet visit, she was diagnosed with a bladder infection and given the appropriate meds. Saturday showed no real improvement, but she was still eating. This morning, Dad announced after church that he thought she might die today. She was unable to get up, was refusing food or water, and that's pretty much a death sentence for a dog. Once they lose their appetite, a dog will go fairly quickly.
My father is somewhat proud of his reputation as a cold-hearted bastard. Any time my cat was ill (Calvin, whom I got in 9th grade and whom I adopted out just prior to my wedding), Dad would tell me, "I have a twenty-five cent cure for that."
Well, this reputation was severely tarnished when he had to put his dog, Heidi, down. She was 16 or 17, was the BEST bird dog he'd ever had, and her quality of life had deteriorated to a degree that he finally had to agree that death was more merciful...but none of that "twenty-five cent cure" garbage. After she slipped peacefully away, he buried her on their property and raised a glass of whiskey to her. There may even have been some tears, but you didn't hear that from me.
Bodie, the current dog, is a sweetie, and Blake loves her. He also loves to torment her, but I guess that's a little boy's job. She's very patient and seems to like the attention. Dad's announcement this morning had us all kind of conflicted. We're a pretty practical family when it comes to pets. They die. You don't spend $1000 dollars to fix a sick dog. You replace a dog when it's that ill, especially since Dad's dogs are working dogs more than family pets. But...but...we love Bodie, and while an X-ray or CT scan is excessive by the family's definition, we couldn't just give up on her. Dad took her in, they thought it may have been antifreeze poisoning, and did the requisite bloodwork while hooking her up to an IV. Bloodwork came back fine, so it looks like it may just be a really really really bad bladder infection.
We're hoping the rest and IV in an overnight at the vet does the trick. We even prayed about it. Dad's still very pragmatic when it comes to animals (must be where I get it), but we're truly concerned about Bodie and want it to end well. The best part in this whole bit? My mother, who is more verbal than most about "that stupid dog" and her habit of peeing when anyone new gets too excited about her (the dog, not my mother)...she is the one who called the vet in the first place since Dad was at work. Mom and I anxiously awaited any news from the vet on the bloodwork, and every phone call had us on pins and needles.
I guess you can say we're just hypocritical cold-hearted bastards.
My father is somewhat proud of his reputation as a cold-hearted bastard. Any time my cat was ill (Calvin, whom I got in 9th grade and whom I adopted out just prior to my wedding), Dad would tell me, "I have a twenty-five cent cure for that."
Well, this reputation was severely tarnished when he had to put his dog, Heidi, down. She was 16 or 17, was the BEST bird dog he'd ever had, and her quality of life had deteriorated to a degree that he finally had to agree that death was more merciful...but none of that "twenty-five cent cure" garbage. After she slipped peacefully away, he buried her on their property and raised a glass of whiskey to her. There may even have been some tears, but you didn't hear that from me.
Bodie, the current dog, is a sweetie, and Blake loves her. He also loves to torment her, but I guess that's a little boy's job. She's very patient and seems to like the attention. Dad's announcement this morning had us all kind of conflicted. We're a pretty practical family when it comes to pets. They die. You don't spend $1000 dollars to fix a sick dog. You replace a dog when it's that ill, especially since Dad's dogs are working dogs more than family pets. But...but...we love Bodie, and while an X-ray or CT scan is excessive by the family's definition, we couldn't just give up on her. Dad took her in, they thought it may have been antifreeze poisoning, and did the requisite bloodwork while hooking her up to an IV. Bloodwork came back fine, so it looks like it may just be a really really really bad bladder infection.
We're hoping the rest and IV in an overnight at the vet does the trick. We even prayed about it. Dad's still very pragmatic when it comes to animals (must be where I get it), but we're truly concerned about Bodie and want it to end well. The best part in this whole bit? My mother, who is more verbal than most about "that stupid dog" and her habit of peeing when anyone new gets too excited about her (the dog, not my mother)...she is the one who called the vet in the first place since Dad was at work. Mom and I anxiously awaited any news from the vet on the bloodwork, and every phone call had us on pins and needles.
I guess you can say we're just hypocritical cold-hearted bastards.
long time gone
Today, Blake woke up and bypassed me to go straight into Grammie & Papaw's room, waking them up. He proceeded to stand on Grammie's side of the bed and tell her, with very stale breath: "Um, I just...I just...I just need to go home now."
I walked in during a repeat performance (he tends to really make sure you heard him, if not the first time, then for sure by the fifth time...I don't know where gets that....no really - I don't), and his tone was so sweetly apologetic, as though Grammie and Papaw thought that he was rushing off after two full weeks with them. It also made my heart pine for home...we have not over-stayed our welcome (is that possible with my parents?), but both Blake and I are ready to be back in our own beds.
The reason we are in Billings so long is that I have plans here on New Year's Eve, and I thought I wouldn't want to come for Christmas, head home, then come back for a day and a half. That's a lot of driving, and I didn't want the hassle. Well, staying here a full week (for me - Blake's now been here two) has stretched me just far enough to be tired and homesick. Also, after having pawned him off that first week, I don't want to just flit out every day to do my own thing, leaving Blake with my poor mother. She can only be SO amazing, and I don't want her to feel taken advantage of...so I haven't been the social butterfly I would normally try to be while here. Also, some key players I would want to see are conveniently OUT OF TOWN.
Anyway, we are ready to load up and move on out. I want to make sure my home is intact (no burst pipes), nothing has died (nor a Christmas tree fallen over and caught fire), and no one has broken in and helped themselves to ALL THE FREAKIN' TOYS! I think the value of all the toys and/or toddler paraphernalia exceeds that of, say, my car. I could sell it all and upgrade to a REAL Hummer, not that little fake thing Blake vrooms around. I wonder if he would think it was supremely cool, or if he would resent me for replacing his fun with my own. I wonder if I would even care, since I would be so callous as to buy a Hummer in the first place and would clearly have had to sell my soul along with the toys.
I walked in during a repeat performance (he tends to really make sure you heard him, if not the first time, then for sure by the fifth time...I don't know where gets that....no really - I don't), and his tone was so sweetly apologetic, as though Grammie and Papaw thought that he was rushing off after two full weeks with them. It also made my heart pine for home...we have not over-stayed our welcome (is that possible with my parents?), but both Blake and I are ready to be back in our own beds.
The reason we are in Billings so long is that I have plans here on New Year's Eve, and I thought I wouldn't want to come for Christmas, head home, then come back for a day and a half. That's a lot of driving, and I didn't want the hassle. Well, staying here a full week (for me - Blake's now been here two) has stretched me just far enough to be tired and homesick. Also, after having pawned him off that first week, I don't want to just flit out every day to do my own thing, leaving Blake with my poor mother. She can only be SO amazing, and I don't want her to feel taken advantage of...so I haven't been the social butterfly I would normally try to be while here. Also, some key players I would want to see are conveniently OUT OF TOWN.
Anyway, we are ready to load up and move on out. I want to make sure my home is intact (no burst pipes), nothing has died (nor a Christmas tree fallen over and caught fire), and no one has broken in and helped themselves to ALL THE FREAKIN' TOYS! I think the value of all the toys and/or toddler paraphernalia exceeds that of, say, my car. I could sell it all and upgrade to a REAL Hummer, not that little fake thing Blake vrooms around. I wonder if he would think it was supremely cool, or if he would resent me for replacing his fun with my own. I wonder if I would even care, since I would be so callous as to buy a Hummer in the first place and would clearly have had to sell my soul along with the toys.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
merry Christmas!
Blake made out like a bandit, if there was any wondering out there. Next year, I may have to put a dollar amount as a cap on what people can spend on him, and anything above and beyond will go into his car fund. He will be able to buy a Lexus by the time he is eight.
We are having great fun and high emotion here in Billings. Seems like today was a culmination in lack of sleep, over-stimulation, and erratic schedules. It can only get better, I hope. The other night, as I put Blake down, I told him that the ONLY reason he could come get me was if he pooped (he tends to just stew in it, and when I storm in ticked that he's not sleeping yet, I'm met with a waft of foulness that would make your eyes water).
The kid pooped FOUR TIMES. Four! In an effort to stall going to bed! He would kneel on the floor and put both hands on the wall, then squeeze out another dookie just as soon as I would leave the room. I know this because I walked in on him doing it. Finally, fearful the next one would be a diaper full of blood, I told him to STOP POOPING. Poor kid doesn't know what to think.
He's been copying Papaw, saying, "That's what I'm talking about!" at both appropriate and wildly random times. He also loves to play with Mason, but has learned the hard way that Smith is too delicate for Blake's rough & tumble. In fact, I have decided that God played a funny, and I got the child that should be Wesley Womack's. Blake is pretty much just the way I remember Wes. He wasn't hostile or intentionally hurtful, usually. Mostly, he was completely unaware that his actions were not fun for me or my sisters or our cousins. He'd get so carried away by how much fun HE was having that our tears or cries of dismay rarely slowed him down.
Blake will take Mason in the super-coupe and run him up and down the hall, caroming off the walls, then leave him at the end of the hall and turn the light off. We'll hear Mase down there just laughing, then see Blake running out. We're having to remind him regularly NOT TO LEAVE THE BABY ALONE. Mason's socks will be black by the end of the night, a result of being swept up and down concrete floors at high speeds.
We're having a little cabin fever, and I hope to get Blake and leave the house for a big chunk of time tomorrow, both for a break for us, and to give my mom just a bit of rest. Between the candy he's able to find and consume and the hot chocolate he's beeing drinking in steady supply, my son is thisclose to a sugar coma. The lead up to a sugar coma? Sugar highs. He's now on a diet of bread and water, with some cheese if he's good.
I must vacate the office now, as it's one of the few spots that the twins can sleep. We're looking forward to getting home and being back on track again...one of these days!
We are having great fun and high emotion here in Billings. Seems like today was a culmination in lack of sleep, over-stimulation, and erratic schedules. It can only get better, I hope. The other night, as I put Blake down, I told him that the ONLY reason he could come get me was if he pooped (he tends to just stew in it, and when I storm in ticked that he's not sleeping yet, I'm met with a waft of foulness that would make your eyes water).
The kid pooped FOUR TIMES. Four! In an effort to stall going to bed! He would kneel on the floor and put both hands on the wall, then squeeze out another dookie just as soon as I would leave the room. I know this because I walked in on him doing it. Finally, fearful the next one would be a diaper full of blood, I told him to STOP POOPING. Poor kid doesn't know what to think.
He's been copying Papaw, saying, "That's what I'm talking about!" at both appropriate and wildly random times. He also loves to play with Mason, but has learned the hard way that Smith is too delicate for Blake's rough & tumble. In fact, I have decided that God played a funny, and I got the child that should be Wesley Womack's. Blake is pretty much just the way I remember Wes. He wasn't hostile or intentionally hurtful, usually. Mostly, he was completely unaware that his actions were not fun for me or my sisters or our cousins. He'd get so carried away by how much fun HE was having that our tears or cries of dismay rarely slowed him down.
Blake will take Mason in the super-coupe and run him up and down the hall, caroming off the walls, then leave him at the end of the hall and turn the light off. We'll hear Mase down there just laughing, then see Blake running out. We're having to remind him regularly NOT TO LEAVE THE BABY ALONE. Mason's socks will be black by the end of the night, a result of being swept up and down concrete floors at high speeds.
We're having a little cabin fever, and I hope to get Blake and leave the house for a big chunk of time tomorrow, both for a break for us, and to give my mom just a bit of rest. Between the candy he's able to find and consume and the hot chocolate he's beeing drinking in steady supply, my son is thisclose to a sugar coma. The lead up to a sugar coma? Sugar highs. He's now on a diet of bread and water, with some cheese if he's good.
I must vacate the office now, as it's one of the few spots that the twins can sleep. We're looking forward to getting home and being back on track again...one of these days!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
sleepy day
I woke up too late this morning to attend church, which was too bad. Mom thinks I would have liked it. The last three years I've attended the Faith Chapel Christmas Eve service, it's been more show than much else (in my opinion). I've already gotten in a little trouble for having such a low opinion of the service, but watching other people sing and/or perform skits doesn't put me in a worshipful frame of mind. It really feels like more of a Christmas extravaganza than church service, what with all the solos and performances. While I understand why (many people who would not otherwise darken the church door are in attendance, and making them sing songs with which they are not familiar may not be their idea of a good time), it's left a bad taste in my mouth before...and though I'm excellent at it, judging others, especially my church, isn't wise for me.
I guess they included the attendees more this year and sang half a dozen carols...which really would have appealed to me. Unfortunately, I take longer than twenty minutes to be presentable for church. Also, I've gotten so accustomed to the intimacy of a small (some would say "tiny") congregation in Bozeman that bigger churches feel cavernous. While I'll always consider Faith Chapel my church, I have different preferences in how I'd like to worship. I think that's ok. One of the things that FC does FAR AND AWAY better than any other church I've seen is their kids' ministry. I will always miss that, I think.
Anyway, the reason I couldn't drag my sorry butt out of bed in time was because I had a little Blakie in bed with me last night. Space necessitates that the twins sleep in the office, Reese & Matt get one bedroom, and little Blake and I (plus Lane, when she arrives) get the other bedroom. I didn't think it would be too bad - after all, I had really missed the little buddy this last week, and sleeping close to him seemed sweet. At one point (1:30? 3:00? 4:30?), I was flat on my back on the very far side of the bed, trying to avoid getting mangled in the washing machine agitator that kept chewing up the other side. Hand to God, my child tosses about every thirty minutes. Well, during my brief stint on my back, Blake very abruptly flipped his body around until his head was resting on my stomach, body perfectly perpendicular to mine. I petted his head for the brief half hour of peace, then moved out of the way as limbs went flying.
I woke up feeling hung over and gross. No bruises that I can see yet, but you bet your sweet ass that kid is sleeping on the floor tonight. Momma needs her beauty (and charm and sweetness) sleep!
I guess they included the attendees more this year and sang half a dozen carols...which really would have appealed to me. Unfortunately, I take longer than twenty minutes to be presentable for church. Also, I've gotten so accustomed to the intimacy of a small (some would say "tiny") congregation in Bozeman that bigger churches feel cavernous. While I'll always consider Faith Chapel my church, I have different preferences in how I'd like to worship. I think that's ok. One of the things that FC does FAR AND AWAY better than any other church I've seen is their kids' ministry. I will always miss that, I think.
Anyway, the reason I couldn't drag my sorry butt out of bed in time was because I had a little Blakie in bed with me last night. Space necessitates that the twins sleep in the office, Reese & Matt get one bedroom, and little Blake and I (plus Lane, when she arrives) get the other bedroom. I didn't think it would be too bad - after all, I had really missed the little buddy this last week, and sleeping close to him seemed sweet. At one point (1:30? 3:00? 4:30?), I was flat on my back on the very far side of the bed, trying to avoid getting mangled in the washing machine agitator that kept chewing up the other side. Hand to God, my child tosses about every thirty minutes. Well, during my brief stint on my back, Blake very abruptly flipped his body around until his head was resting on my stomach, body perfectly perpendicular to mine. I petted his head for the brief half hour of peace, then moved out of the way as limbs went flying.
I woke up feeling hung over and gross. No bruises that I can see yet, but you bet your sweet ass that kid is sleeping on the floor tonight. Momma needs her beauty (and charm and sweetness) sleep!
Saturday, December 22, 2007
happy anniversary
Today, I'm borrowing a page from one of my favorite bloggers (dooce) and writing a letter that everyone but its intended can read. Today would have been Blake's and my fifth anniversary.
****
Dear Blake,
Happy anniversary! I'm sad that you are not here to celebrate this day with me, but I will always remember it as one of the happiest of my life. The day that you agreed to love and cleave to me until death parted us - I knew I was so lucky to have you, and I wanted the world to know my joy. I think our wedding was the first true look your family had of me, and I bet it surprised them. Up to that point, I had been very intimidated and unsure of myself around them, and looking back, I didn't like that side of me AT ALL. I can hardly wonder at their semi-enthusiasm. Thankfully, it didn't carry over to our wedding day, and they saw the me that you loved so dearly. I laughed, I cried - you did too - and the room was convinced of our delight in one another.
At the end of the ceremony, you hopped off the stage, and I dropped into your arms. I loved that you were so strong and capable, and I really loved that you didn't drop me...or break a sweat.
We are also approaching the third anniversary of your death, which I do not like to dwell upon. In these three years, our boy has grown into the most beautiful, charming, and lovable child this world has known. While it grieves me enormously that we do not get to enjoy him together, I know that you are SO PROUD of him. You're probably annoying the citizenry of heaven with whatever the wallet photo equivalent is. He looks so much like you, so much like me, and I catch glimpses of most everyone else we're directly related to in there. I think he's starting to understand that our family is different, and I'm doing my best to keep you close. He knows you in pictures, and I tell him when he likes something just like you did (snow!). I feel so inadequate, doing this without you, and I want so badly to honor you and make certain he knows you...but it's difficult to introduce a child to a man absent. My prayer is that stories would come to mind and spill from my lips much more now that his comprehension is growing.
Blake, I miss you so much. Your absence is a huge hole in our family, and I find myself thinking of you all the time. I am afraid of forgetting any little thing about you, what you said or did. We got such a short amount of time together that it's easy to feel like I didn't get to fully know you...but I knew you. Deeply. Intimately. I love you because of and in spite of all that information. I wish that you were with us, that I could hold your hand, sleep with you, and be frustrated by you. I miss calling you "baby," as you called me "sweetie." Such ridiculous nicknames, but hearing "Hey sweetie, it's me." when I picked up the phone was always dear.
I still drink too much Dr. Pepper, and I finally got a cell phone. Without your motivation, I'm rarely outside for anything much longer than walking to the car from the store. As I type, little Blake is on my lap, pretending to type on a pretend keyboard, moving his body and head like he's dancing to the rhythm of my fingers on the keys. He's such a fun kiddo. You would like him.
We're doing well. There are times that I feel like an amputee, except that it's a part of my soul, not my body, that is missing. Those times will probably grow less intense, less painful, but I don't expect them to end. We were knit together, body and soul. Your absence changes that, but it does not erase the fact of it. I will figure out how to love you and another (one of these days, God willing), and figure out how to have more in-laws than is fair. Somehow, God will walk me through this...and I will continue to love and miss you until I see you again.
Love,
Addie
****
Dear Blake,
Happy anniversary! I'm sad that you are not here to celebrate this day with me, but I will always remember it as one of the happiest of my life. The day that you agreed to love and cleave to me until death parted us - I knew I was so lucky to have you, and I wanted the world to know my joy. I think our wedding was the first true look your family had of me, and I bet it surprised them. Up to that point, I had been very intimidated and unsure of myself around them, and looking back, I didn't like that side of me AT ALL. I can hardly wonder at their semi-enthusiasm. Thankfully, it didn't carry over to our wedding day, and they saw the me that you loved so dearly. I laughed, I cried - you did too - and the room was convinced of our delight in one another.
At the end of the ceremony, you hopped off the stage, and I dropped into your arms. I loved that you were so strong and capable, and I really loved that you didn't drop me...or break a sweat.
We are also approaching the third anniversary of your death, which I do not like to dwell upon. In these three years, our boy has grown into the most beautiful, charming, and lovable child this world has known. While it grieves me enormously that we do not get to enjoy him together, I know that you are SO PROUD of him. You're probably annoying the citizenry of heaven with whatever the wallet photo equivalent is. He looks so much like you, so much like me, and I catch glimpses of most everyone else we're directly related to in there. I think he's starting to understand that our family is different, and I'm doing my best to keep you close. He knows you in pictures, and I tell him when he likes something just like you did (snow!). I feel so inadequate, doing this without you, and I want so badly to honor you and make certain he knows you...but it's difficult to introduce a child to a man absent. My prayer is that stories would come to mind and spill from my lips much more now that his comprehension is growing.
Blake, I miss you so much. Your absence is a huge hole in our family, and I find myself thinking of you all the time. I am afraid of forgetting any little thing about you, what you said or did. We got such a short amount of time together that it's easy to feel like I didn't get to fully know you...but I knew you. Deeply. Intimately. I love you because of and in spite of all that information. I wish that you were with us, that I could hold your hand, sleep with you, and be frustrated by you. I miss calling you "baby," as you called me "sweetie." Such ridiculous nicknames, but hearing "Hey sweetie, it's me." when I picked up the phone was always dear.
I still drink too much Dr. Pepper, and I finally got a cell phone. Without your motivation, I'm rarely outside for anything much longer than walking to the car from the store. As I type, little Blake is on my lap, pretending to type on a pretend keyboard, moving his body and head like he's dancing to the rhythm of my fingers on the keys. He's such a fun kiddo. You would like him.
We're doing well. There are times that I feel like an amputee, except that it's a part of my soul, not my body, that is missing. Those times will probably grow less intense, less painful, but I don't expect them to end. We were knit together, body and soul. Your absence changes that, but it does not erase the fact of it. I will figure out how to love you and another (one of these days, God willing), and figure out how to have more in-laws than is fair. Somehow, God will walk me through this...and I will continue to love and miss you until I see you again.
Love,
Addie
Friday, December 21, 2007
mental
I am not currently wrestling with mental illness, though I am VERY close to folks who are. This is a wonderful essay on what it's like to love someone who wrestles with it constantly. It's quite long, but very good.
So, after the wet and heavy snow last night, I'm not eager to get on the highway. The roads in town are frighteningly slick, and I'm waiting until tomorrow morning to load up and get out of Dodge. That means I have one more alone night before getting to Billings to scoop up my son and get filled up on all the Blake kisses. I've nearly run out!
Thankfully, the pain I've experienced with being alone has lessened quite a bit, or at least comes in smaller, shorter waves. Something about "getting it out" is working...that, or my reluctance to pray is working. Prayer really wracked me emotionally, and while it could be good, it was also exhausting. I've been keeping my prayer time MUCH shorter as a result.
This Christmas, I know several people who are not able to simply enjoy the season, for one reason or another. It's as though they still see the twinkling lights and hear cheerful voices, but it's through a grey fog. My prayer for those people - my people - those waiting on answers slow in coming, those alone and hurting - my prayer is for the grace and peace of God to envelope them like a mother holding her child. That they would lean into Him as he wipes away their tears and reassures them of His abiding love.
Zephaniah 3:17
The Lord your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you;
He will quiet you with His love;
He will rejoice over you with singing.
So, after the wet and heavy snow last night, I'm not eager to get on the highway. The roads in town are frighteningly slick, and I'm waiting until tomorrow morning to load up and get out of Dodge. That means I have one more alone night before getting to Billings to scoop up my son and get filled up on all the Blake kisses. I've nearly run out!
Thankfully, the pain I've experienced with being alone has lessened quite a bit, or at least comes in smaller, shorter waves. Something about "getting it out" is working...that, or my reluctance to pray is working. Prayer really wracked me emotionally, and while it could be good, it was also exhausting. I've been keeping my prayer time MUCH shorter as a result.
This Christmas, I know several people who are not able to simply enjoy the season, for one reason or another. It's as though they still see the twinkling lights and hear cheerful voices, but it's through a grey fog. My prayer for those people - my people - those waiting on answers slow in coming, those alone and hurting - my prayer is for the grace and peace of God to envelope them like a mother holding her child. That they would lean into Him as he wipes away their tears and reassures them of His abiding love.
Zephaniah 3:17
The Lord your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you;
He will quiet you with His love;
He will rejoice over you with singing.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
thank you...
...for love and emails...comments and phone calls...lunch and dinner...invitations and tears
I feel compelled to tell you that I am not down (or angry) all the time. Like most anything, I have good and bad moments. The bad moments are just all aggressive and up in my face, saying things like "What's your problem, beeyatch?" The good moments are milder, easier to overlook.
This is hard, and though I am lonely, thank you so much for ensuring that I am not alone.
I feel compelled to tell you that I am not down (or angry) all the time. Like most anything, I have good and bad moments. The bad moments are just all aggressive and up in my face, saying things like "What's your problem, beeyatch?" The good moments are milder, easier to overlook.
This is hard, and though I am lonely, thank you so much for ensuring that I am not alone.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
mixed bag
So, it's been made painfully clear to me that I have never been this alone since Blake died. During the month between his death and little Blake's birth, I had days to myself, but living with my parents and sister, and the other sister just up the road, I was rarely alone and never for very long. This time, almost three years since, I am very, very alone.
Sure, I've filled my days with friends, fun, work, etc., and I've had friends over and gone out...but it's essentially all by myself, never with a little buddy in tow. Bedtime is purely when I want it to be, and, again, I'm all by myself and don't need to keep it quiet outside a sleeping child's door.
It is gut wrenching. This season, I've felt more isolated and yearningly lonely than ever before, and I'm truly tasting it for the first time...deeply bitter stuff. To cope (and to not muck up others' holiday spirits), I cover with anger during the day - anger of the sarcastic, make-them-laugh-so-I-don't-cry kind, then sob like a baby at night. I wake up puffy, tired, and irritable. Merry effing Christmas.
My dear discipler let me see that I simply need to be honest, not sinning in my anger or hurt, but letting those I love and who love me support me in this very difficult time. I need to be loved right now. I need to be prayed for and with, and I need to cry. I need all these things, and I hate being needy. I hate feeling like Debbie Downer, especially to my friends, so have been putting on a show.
Show's over. I'm hurting, and though I ask for wisdom and deliverance, God's timing is not mine. I'm sorry to those whom I've effectively lied to about how I'm doing this Christmas. Please forgive me. Forgive my crass/crude/filthy mouth, and the bitterness that I let seep in. Please help me through this.
Sure, I've filled my days with friends, fun, work, etc., and I've had friends over and gone out...but it's essentially all by myself, never with a little buddy in tow. Bedtime is purely when I want it to be, and, again, I'm all by myself and don't need to keep it quiet outside a sleeping child's door.
It is gut wrenching. This season, I've felt more isolated and yearningly lonely than ever before, and I'm truly tasting it for the first time...deeply bitter stuff. To cope (and to not muck up others' holiday spirits), I cover with anger during the day - anger of the sarcastic, make-them-laugh-so-I-don't-cry kind, then sob like a baby at night. I wake up puffy, tired, and irritable. Merry effing Christmas.
My dear discipler let me see that I simply need to be honest, not sinning in my anger or hurt, but letting those I love and who love me support me in this very difficult time. I need to be loved right now. I need to be prayed for and with, and I need to cry. I need all these things, and I hate being needy. I hate feeling like Debbie Downer, especially to my friends, so have been putting on a show.
Show's over. I'm hurting, and though I ask for wisdom and deliverance, God's timing is not mine. I'm sorry to those whom I've effectively lied to about how I'm doing this Christmas. Please forgive me. Forgive my crass/crude/filthy mouth, and the bitterness that I let seep in. Please help me through this.
Monday, December 17, 2007
freedom
First day without Blake: It went well. I woke up a tiny bit later than normal and worked a bit, then had coffee with a friend. I then stood in line in hell...otherwise known as the post office, and got my gifts off to far flung family, postage effectively doubling the original cost of the gifts. Next year: gift cards! Or air!
I had lunch with my dear friend Naomi, whom I've seen little of since the arrival of her son, Kale. Her husband, Peter, and Blake miss each other something fierce, but it is nothing to the withdrawal I've experienced from one of my kindred spirits. We got to chat neither uninterrupted nor distracted, and it was sweet, sweet time.
I then went on to completely blow my Christmas plans. I thought I was done shopping for my kiddo, but I found a book on how to become a pirate! And a new Sandra Boynton! And a Sandra Boynton CD! Oh, and I almost forgot stocking stuffers...and something for my parents! My goodness - SLEDS! What a great year to teach him how to fling himself down a hill attached to something slippery! I was all cracked out on the Christmas high, and then I got to the grocery store to find Reese! And Mason! And Smith!
Poor Reese - she is stopped every ten feet or so by well-meaning strangers commenting on twins. "Are they twins?" No, I just picked one off the street and put him in my handy double stroller. "How do you do it?" Well, the vodka takes a little bit to kick in, but after that I can handle things. "Aren't they cute?" Yes, yes they are.
She is gracious and kind to each and every one, but afterwards, I offered to watch them weekly so she could go to the grocery store in peace. I'll do it when Blake's in daycare, so she'll have a solid hour and a half BY HERSELF. She all but tripped over herself to take me up on it, so I'll have guaranteed nephew time each week from here on out. I'm so excited!
Now, I have to wrap up loose ends for work, finish gift wrapping (and accounting for them all - I may have overdone it in my zeal to make sure I got a little something for everyone), and hopefully hang out with friends tonight. Tomorrow: work, then meeting with my discipler, then down time before game night with a few old friends from Morrison-Maierle! Wahoo!
Oh yeah, and I really do miss Blake, but I got a good long gab with him on the phone today, so I'm ok.
I had lunch with my dear friend Naomi, whom I've seen little of since the arrival of her son, Kale. Her husband, Peter, and Blake miss each other something fierce, but it is nothing to the withdrawal I've experienced from one of my kindred spirits. We got to chat neither uninterrupted nor distracted, and it was sweet, sweet time.
I then went on to completely blow my Christmas plans. I thought I was done shopping for my kiddo, but I found a book on how to become a pirate! And a new Sandra Boynton! And a Sandra Boynton CD! Oh, and I almost forgot stocking stuffers...and something for my parents! My goodness - SLEDS! What a great year to teach him how to fling himself down a hill attached to something slippery! I was all cracked out on the Christmas high, and then I got to the grocery store to find Reese! And Mason! And Smith!
Poor Reese - she is stopped every ten feet or so by well-meaning strangers commenting on twins. "Are they twins?" No, I just picked one off the street and put him in my handy double stroller. "How do you do it?" Well, the vodka takes a little bit to kick in, but after that I can handle things. "Aren't they cute?" Yes, yes they are.
She is gracious and kind to each and every one, but afterwards, I offered to watch them weekly so she could go to the grocery store in peace. I'll do it when Blake's in daycare, so she'll have a solid hour and a half BY HERSELF. She all but tripped over herself to take me up on it, so I'll have guaranteed nephew time each week from here on out. I'm so excited!
Now, I have to wrap up loose ends for work, finish gift wrapping (and accounting for them all - I may have overdone it in my zeal to make sure I got a little something for everyone), and hopefully hang out with friends tonight. Tomorrow: work, then meeting with my discipler, then down time before game night with a few old friends from Morrison-Maierle! Wahoo!
Oh yeah, and I really do miss Blake, but I got a good long gab with him on the phone today, so I'm ok.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
the eagle has landed
He is safe in my mother's arms, refusing to talk to me on the phone (because it would involve leaving Papaw), and apparently slept the whole way to Billings.
I can breathe again.
I can breathe again.
bittersweet
I packed my son off to Billings about an hour ago. It is much harder than I thought it would be. I am not a worrier, but this trip is very different. First of all, I usually leave him. Second, my departures are often in the wee hours, so we've said good-bye at the same time we said good-night. Third, leaving him with Grammie & Papaw is different than sending him with cousin Aubyn for a two hour drive on Montana roads in December.
I am still not a worrier, but I have a stomach and head ache from vigorously thinking about anything other than terrible things. It's one thing to have horrible ideas jump into my head when my son is cheerful and next to me. It's quite another to have them appear while knowing he's trucking down the road at 75 mph...without me.
I'm very conflicted about all this! The opportunity to do things without the limitations of nap and bed times, or attitude problems (other than my own), is a wonderful one. However, I miss him already and can only imagine all the phone calls that will be made between Bozeman and Billings these next few days. In fact, maybe I'll call Aubyn right now, just for peace of mind.
I am still not a worrier, but I have a stomach and head ache from vigorously thinking about anything other than terrible things. It's one thing to have horrible ideas jump into my head when my son is cheerful and next to me. It's quite another to have them appear while knowing he's trucking down the road at 75 mph...without me.
I'm very conflicted about all this! The opportunity to do things without the limitations of nap and bed times, or attitude problems (other than my own), is a wonderful one. However, I miss him already and can only imagine all the phone calls that will be made between Bozeman and Billings these next few days. In fact, maybe I'll call Aubyn right now, just for peace of mind.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
presents
I've decided to use this forum to tell you all:
Feel free to give my son whatever your little heart desires. Know, however, that as things come in, other things will go out (this rule applies to me too), based on MY WHIM. And, of course, Blake's preferences. For example, motorcycles rule the roost right now. Legos? Not so much.
With limited space (have you SEEN my condo?) and a penchant for holding onto things, it's become clear that I cannot cram ten pounds of stuff into a five pound house.
At least, not anymore. I'm a wee bit claustrophobic and the walls are closing in on me. I'm terrified of being one of those ladies who has a two-foot path through the piles and piles of old Real Simple magazines because YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU MIGHT NEED THEM.
I'm signing up for eBay tomorrow, so if you've had your eye on any of my stuff...let's just say this could be a very merry Christmas.
Feel free to give my son whatever your little heart desires. Know, however, that as things come in, other things will go out (this rule applies to me too), based on MY WHIM. And, of course, Blake's preferences. For example, motorcycles rule the roost right now. Legos? Not so much.
With limited space (have you SEEN my condo?) and a penchant for holding onto things, it's become clear that I cannot cram ten pounds of stuff into a five pound house.
At least, not anymore. I'm a wee bit claustrophobic and the walls are closing in on me. I'm terrified of being one of those ladies who has a two-foot path through the piles and piles of old Real Simple magazines because YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU MIGHT NEED THEM.
I'm signing up for eBay tomorrow, so if you've had your eye on any of my stuff...let's just say this could be a very merry Christmas.
good influence
Just as I walk into the living room, Aubyn says, "That's a truck - can you say 'truck you?'"
I immediately distracted and redirected, then lashed Aubyn soundly with my sparkly belt.
I immediately distracted and redirected, then lashed Aubyn soundly with my sparkly belt.
vegas baby!
I am back from a long absence, partly due to my time in Vegas, partly due to the furious catch-up I had to engage in once I got back. Whew! It's been a whirlwind of a week.
Vegas was fantastic. We started off on Saturday at the Hoover Dam, which is amazing. We stayed at the Flamingo, and I wasn't too overwhelmed by the sheer immenseness of the place, but for the fact that we had to walk a quarter to a half a mile to get from the door to our room. Yikes! There was a LOT of walking, which wasn't terrible, but I should have brought sneakers.
Also, bling bling bling! No, not Vegas bling - this was cowgirl bling. Some of it went far beyond the bounds of taste (moose paddle chandelier coated in rhinestones for $20,000?), and some was just fun flash (sparkly belts, jackets, etc.). I learned the term "buckle bunny," which I think is like the cowboy version of a groupie. There was a comedian from MT there, and he made the following funny:
I would date one.
Anyway, it was fun to spend so much time with the Yost family, who are enviably close to one another. I also ran into one of big Blake's cousins completely unexpectedly. At least he's a cowboy - I think he was flabbergasted to see ME of all people in LAS VEGAS. Again, terms previously thought mutually exclusive!
We were at the bar where they handed out the daily buckles for best times/scores, and I was being hit on by a doorknob who I'd just danced with. He was, uh, rhythm challenged, and kind of clueless...and just then Carey walks up! I think the excitement with which I greeted him took him by surprise, but he agreed to dance the next song. Once on the floor, he asked if he was sabotaging me or rescuing me, and assured him it was the latter.
Turns out that Helenmarie (Blake's grandmother) taught Carey to dance...and she did one hell of a job! I love Blake dearly, but he could barely two-step, and that's when I was leading, so dancing was something I quietly let slide, even though I LOVE IT (to be clear: country or ballroom dancing is what I love, not awkward white girl dancing). Well, Carey worked that dance floor like it was going out of style, and but for my slippery boots and tendency to lead, it was fantastic! Carey, if you are reading this, that was one of the high points of my weekend. Seriously.
I came back to find that, while my boss had covered for me exceedingly well with online support, answering a Spaniard and a German in their native tongues, he had forgotten to keep up with voicemail. I spent one whole day just listening to them, many multiple calls from the same person, wondering why we were ignoring them. Oops! Everything is handled again, and I'm looking ahead to a week without Blake. My cousin (guest blogger below) is taking him back to Billings with her for his week with Grammie and Papaw. While I know he'll be fine, I miss him already - what was I thinking? Two extended periods away from him in a row? Last year, this would have been no big deal because I needed a break and he was TWO. Well, I've had a break or two, and he's so much more engaging and delightful these days...I don't want to miss any of it.
Today, we went to see Santa (I'm telling him that Santa is not real, but that some kids believe in him, and Christmas is really about the birth of Christ...he totally gets it. Or not. Who cares?), and Blake told him he wanted a train. We got a picture taken (it's bad), and then Blake got to pick out his ornament for this year. We have an ark for his first, a motorcycle for his second, and this year is Spiderman. It was a great day for the little guy.
I've taken my nativity set and hidden most of it for Christmas. Instead, Joseph and Mary are taking an extended journey around the house. The game every morning is opening his advent calendar and finding where Mary & Joseph are on their way to Bethlehem. On Christmas morning, I'll put everything else out and read the story of Jesus. Three days later, enter the wise men.
We've had fun with Aubyn. She babysat last night while I played reindeer games with friends. Apparently, she constructed a tent in his room, then taped ears to two of my headbands. They were bears, but as soon as they'd get into the 'den,' Blake would tell her "Take you hat off!" I had a good time with my friends, but I left kind of blue. Everyone is paired up, and I'm still quite alone. The bitter side of me wants to smoke a cigarette and declare "Merry freakin' Christmas!" The side clinging to grace still wants to cry into my pillow. Please pray for me. I don't want Blake's death to ruin this entire season, thought I know it will color it for the rest of my life. I don't want to be alone anymore either, and a momentary flirtation in Vegas made me see just how very starved for romantic attention I am. Pray protection for my heart.
In the inevitable dullness of a home without my exuberant boy, I'm sure I'll be better at posting. Or not. I might be out every night after 8:00, JUST BECAUSE I CAN. We'll see, but I'm looking forward to it!
I told you so. Yuck.
Vegas was fantastic. We started off on Saturday at the Hoover Dam, which is amazing. We stayed at the Flamingo, and I wasn't too overwhelmed by the sheer immenseness of the place, but for the fact that we had to walk a quarter to a half a mile to get from the door to our room. Yikes! There was a LOT of walking, which wasn't terrible, but I should have brought sneakers.
Also, bling bling bling! No, not Vegas bling - this was cowgirl bling. Some of it went far beyond the bounds of taste (moose paddle chandelier coated in rhinestones for $20,000?), and some was just fun flash (sparkly belts, jackets, etc.). I learned the term "buckle bunny," which I think is like the cowboy version of a groupie. There was a comedian from MT there, and he made the following funny:
In Vegas, you see a girl dressed, you know, a certain way, and you think, 'Is she a hooker?' Maybe. 'Is she a stripper?' It's possible. But the most likely scenario is she's just a regular girl from North Dakota who's never dressed like that before in her life.The rodeo itself was spectacular - it moved very quickly, with only fifteen guys in each event, and was a great show. We saw Lee Underwood sing "God Bless the USA" to a crowd 18,000 strong, all waving mini flags, and though I am not an overt patriot, I confess I got a bit misty. The next night was Cowboy Troy, the rapping black country singer (I know, I thought those terms were mutually exclusive too). I left with a new appreciation of the difficulty of what those cowboys do, and a new appreciation of how deranged you have to be to get on the back of a bucking bronc (saddled or not) or a bull. The calf ropers were unbelievably fast - they would rope the calf and be halfway down the rope before the calf had hit the ground. Then, they'd wave their hands over the legs a few times, stand up, and the calf would be tied up! It was magic. Apparently, announcers regularly tell girls that calf ropers might be cute, but no father in his right mind would let a daughter date one. Their hands are JUST. TOO. FAST.
I would date one.
Anyway, it was fun to spend so much time with the Yost family, who are enviably close to one another. I also ran into one of big Blake's cousins completely unexpectedly. At least he's a cowboy - I think he was flabbergasted to see ME of all people in LAS VEGAS. Again, terms previously thought mutually exclusive!
We were at the bar where they handed out the daily buckles for best times/scores, and I was being hit on by a doorknob who I'd just danced with. He was, uh, rhythm challenged, and kind of clueless...and just then Carey walks up! I think the excitement with which I greeted him took him by surprise, but he agreed to dance the next song. Once on the floor, he asked if he was sabotaging me or rescuing me, and assured him it was the latter.
Turns out that Helenmarie (Blake's grandmother) taught Carey to dance...and she did one hell of a job! I love Blake dearly, but he could barely two-step, and that's when I was leading, so dancing was something I quietly let slide, even though I LOVE IT (to be clear: country or ballroom dancing is what I love, not awkward white girl dancing). Well, Carey worked that dance floor like it was going out of style, and but for my slippery boots and tendency to lead, it was fantastic! Carey, if you are reading this, that was one of the high points of my weekend. Seriously.
I came back to find that, while my boss had covered for me exceedingly well with online support, answering a Spaniard and a German in their native tongues, he had forgotten to keep up with voicemail. I spent one whole day just listening to them, many multiple calls from the same person, wondering why we were ignoring them. Oops! Everything is handled again, and I'm looking ahead to a week without Blake. My cousin (guest blogger below) is taking him back to Billings with her for his week with Grammie and Papaw. While I know he'll be fine, I miss him already - what was I thinking? Two extended periods away from him in a row? Last year, this would have been no big deal because I needed a break and he was TWO. Well, I've had a break or two, and he's so much more engaging and delightful these days...I don't want to miss any of it.
Today, we went to see Santa (I'm telling him that Santa is not real, but that some kids believe in him, and Christmas is really about the birth of Christ...he totally gets it. Or not. Who cares?), and Blake told him he wanted a train. We got a picture taken (it's bad), and then Blake got to pick out his ornament for this year. We have an ark for his first, a motorcycle for his second, and this year is Spiderman. It was a great day for the little guy.
I've taken my nativity set and hidden most of it for Christmas. Instead, Joseph and Mary are taking an extended journey around the house. The game every morning is opening his advent calendar and finding where Mary & Joseph are on their way to Bethlehem. On Christmas morning, I'll put everything else out and read the story of Jesus. Three days later, enter the wise men.
We've had fun with Aubyn. She babysat last night while I played reindeer games with friends. Apparently, she constructed a tent in his room, then taped ears to two of my headbands. They were bears, but as soon as they'd get into the 'den,' Blake would tell her "Take you hat off!" I had a good time with my friends, but I left kind of blue. Everyone is paired up, and I'm still quite alone. The bitter side of me wants to smoke a cigarette and declare "Merry freakin' Christmas!" The side clinging to grace still wants to cry into my pillow. Please pray for me. I don't want Blake's death to ruin this entire season, thought I know it will color it for the rest of my life. I don't want to be alone anymore either, and a momentary flirtation in Vegas made me see just how very starved for romantic attention I am. Pray protection for my heart.
In the inevitable dullness of a home without my exuberant boy, I'm sure I'll be better at posting. Or not. I might be out every night after 8:00, JUST BECAUSE I CAN. We'll see, but I'm looking forward to it!
I told you so. Yuck.guest blogger
I will post later today, I promise - there's lots I need to catch up on! However, for the moment, may I introduce Aubyn, my cousin, and guest blogger. Take it away, friend!
--
Howdy, I am Addie's guest blogger and guest for the weekend. I don't think she will require future guests to write on her blog, because no one but the extroverts would come over. he he. I appreciate normal-bloggers for making it look so easy. It is not.
One of my favorite things about reading other people's blogs is the comments people leave, especially about something controversial. Here is a topic for the meeting of the minds: Expecting non-Christians to act like Christians. Is it worse during the holidays? Have you heard someone say, "Christmas is just so commercial, and it's not about Jesus anymore."? I argue that non-christians have Santa and Christians have Jesus. You put the Jesus in it, and you are kidding yourself for thinking the mall would do it.
So now I will just sit back and let the comments roll in. I am hoping maybe people have some tricks on how to stay loving and non-judgmental - tips on how to stop expecting the godless to celebrate the Savior.
--
Howdy, I am Addie's guest blogger and guest for the weekend. I don't think she will require future guests to write on her blog, because no one but the extroverts would come over. he he. I appreciate normal-bloggers for making it look so easy. It is not.
One of my favorite things about reading other people's blogs is the comments people leave, especially about something controversial. Here is a topic for the meeting of the minds: Expecting non-Christians to act like Christians. Is it worse during the holidays? Have you heard someone say, "Christmas is just so commercial, and it's not about Jesus anymore."? I argue that non-christians have Santa and Christians have Jesus. You put the Jesus in it, and you are kidding yourself for thinking the mall would do it.
So now I will just sit back and let the comments roll in. I am hoping maybe people have some tricks on how to stay loving and non-judgmental - tips on how to stop expecting the godless to celebrate the Savior.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
photo update
Gimme that nose!
"Like this Momma?"
Our Thanksgiving handiwork - a very serious snow midget.
My own snow midget's snow angel.
"Now you, Momma!"
Little bird, waiting for his turn.
Action shot of Mason (not nearly as mobile as when Blake was motoring him around) and Blake (always in motion).
Loving his "race cars!" jams. I will post a video of his preening soon.I don't have any pictures of our weekend with Margie & Erin yet, but as soon as Erin passes them along, I'll post them. As you may imagine, there are some SUPER cute ones.
weekend
We packed up Margie and Erin yesterday, after having them stay with us since Friday. What a great weekend! They got to enjoy way more of Blake than if they'd stayed at a hotel, and (thankfully) he was truly enjoyable all weekend. I asked much of him in regards to his attitude and schedule, and he rose to the occasion delightfully. If it were possible for him to have them more firmly wrapped around his finger, then he did so. He was mopey when they left, and has been telling me since yesterday morning that we need to go to Calgary, except that it sounds more like, "we nee go to Coggoly." I think he's under the impression that it's like going to auntie Reese's, and has no idea that it's an eight+ hour drive.
I've now got a Christmas tree up and decorated, and it's a dear little Charlie Brown guy. It's about six and a half feet tall and three feet around, so it looks like a bottle brush, but it's perfect for my space. Blake's transfixed by it, and I will try to post some pictures of him with it soon. He loves the lights and knows which switch turns them on and off, saying, "Oh, it's so pretty!" He's also enamored of the motorcycles provided by Grammie G, and has to take one everywhere: daycare, grocery store, church. I allow him this because it's distracted him from his need to wear his new Cars pajamas to all those places (these were provided by Grammie Monica). Thank you, Grammie G!
I leave for Las Vegas on Saturday, and I'm nowhere near ready. Tonight, I will paint my toenails, because it's a start. This whole spontaneous trip thing kind of freaks me out, but it's so exciting! I'm going to sign up for notifiers for cheap tickets to Calgary, Alexandria, and Minot (all to get closer to big Blake's family), as well as Maui, because what the hell? If the price is right...
Now, I'm going to geek up and fold laundry while watching reality tv...then drink tea and do my puzzle. Blake used to tease me about loving puzzles - something about "old lady" - but I never cared. I rock at puzzles, and it always feels good to do something you do really damn well...which may be why I also drink a lot of wine. My new fave is a port by Moscato d'Asti Nivole (about $13 at World Market) because it's so good, and a bottle lasts a while because it's sweet and too expensive to indulge too often. Yum!
I've now got a Christmas tree up and decorated, and it's a dear little Charlie Brown guy. It's about six and a half feet tall and three feet around, so it looks like a bottle brush, but it's perfect for my space. Blake's transfixed by it, and I will try to post some pictures of him with it soon. He loves the lights and knows which switch turns them on and off, saying, "Oh, it's so pretty!" He's also enamored of the motorcycles provided by Grammie G, and has to take one everywhere: daycare, grocery store, church. I allow him this because it's distracted him from his need to wear his new Cars pajamas to all those places (these were provided by Grammie Monica). Thank you, Grammie G!
I leave for Las Vegas on Saturday, and I'm nowhere near ready. Tonight, I will paint my toenails, because it's a start. This whole spontaneous trip thing kind of freaks me out, but it's so exciting! I'm going to sign up for notifiers for cheap tickets to Calgary, Alexandria, and Minot (all to get closer to big Blake's family), as well as Maui, because what the hell? If the price is right...
Now, I'm going to geek up and fold laundry while watching reality tv...then drink tea and do my puzzle. Blake used to tease me about loving puzzles - something about "old lady" - but I never cared. I rock at puzzles, and it always feels good to do something you do really damn well...which may be why I also drink a lot of wine. My new fave is a port by Moscato d'Asti Nivole (about $13 at World Market) because it's so good, and a bottle lasts a while because it's sweet and too expensive to indulge too often. Yum!
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