Dusting the shelf June 25, 2009

I hate to dust. It’s never been one of the wifely duties I have cared to do or like to do. I am perfectly fine if the dust bunnies roll past me in the house.

We had our son cremated  when he passed away .Exactly 11 months and 16 days ago. When we went to pick up his ashes it was a beautiful, sunny , warm day. I remember staring out of the car window wishing it was raining. I thought, somehow ,it would make me feel better if God was crying that day too.

We went in empty handed. The lady handed us our son. We thanked her. ( That’s what your SUPPOSED to do when someone hands you your sons’ ashes, right?) When we walked out all we had was a container no bigger than a baby bottle. We didn’t buy an urn at the funeral home. None of them seemed adequate or perfect enough to hold our son. I kept it together until I reached the car.  As I sat down and placed my son in my lap I completely fell apart. Sobbed all the way home.  I can only imagine what people on the highway must have thought.

And so he came home in this “Made in Taiwan” crappy plastic, white box. I guess I just figured they would be decent enough to put him in something…..better. Anything would have been better than this shitty  plastic box . How could this…tiny…plastic container hold our son? How could  this tiny little container hold our hearts? Our dreams? Our hopes? How could one little box possibly hold what our arms and hearts longed and ached for. The drive home was long…felt like forever. I craddled that little box. Held onto my sons ashes  and rocked  as if I were simply rocking him to sleep for the night.

My husband and I walked in the door. There was just sadness. And this awful,” What do we do now?” feeling. What DO  you do with your babies ashes? Do you put them on the kitchen counter with the bills and the hamburger buns? Do you set them down as if he were a bag from Target? Do you put them in your room where he will be all alone?  All I knew was that I wanted him out of that crappy…piece of shit plastic box.  And so I said to my    husband,” I want him out of this box!! I don’t care what we put him in but he cannot be in THIS..THING.!!” I was absolutely frantic. I stood in the hallway sobbing. And then! I knew exactly where I wanted him. As I walked towards our bedroom my husband came out holding it. The small, cherry wood box that had held both of our wedding rings on that beautiful beach in  Maui. My heart swelled for my husband! Just when I thought he had no idea how I felt or what I needed? He came out holding that precious little box. It was the perfect place for him. And so…my husband and I delicately lifted our sons ashes out of the “Made in Taiwan” box and placed him in our cherry wood  wedding ring box.

 

For the first few weeks I carried our sons cherry wood box around with me. I never left him in a room alone. If I vacumed he went with me. If I was folding laundry he went with me. I know it sounds ridiculous but I just…couldn’t leave him alone. I hated to leave the house because I didn’t want him to be alone. I slept with his cherry wood box tucked safely on my pillow. All I could think was….I’m his mom! I can’t leave him all alone!

And then eventually I had to leave the house. People were asking questions. They were probably starting to think that my husband had me locked in a closet or basement somewhere.

And so my husband made a shelf  and placed it on my side of the bed. Ethan’s  shelf. It still feels so unreal…so wrong. I will be going about the dusting that I SO hate to do. First the livingroom..The diningroom …and then our room. Every. Single.Time.  I find myself thinking ….I am not supposed  to be DUSTING my son!!  He is not supposed to be on this shelf in this tiny cherry wood box. It’s just not right. Somebody pinch me and tell me this was all just a dream.

This is a joke, right? June 24, 2009

You came into our lives like a wave….crashing in on us and completely consuming our hearts and our souls. We were scared and slightly less than prepared. What kind of mom could I possibly be to a third son? How could I possibly love a third child as completely and deeply as the first two? Would I still remember how to rock a screaming baby to sleep? Would I remember how to  change a diaper?  What if I dropped him? Worse yet, what if he took one look at me and thought,” This is a joke, right?”

But here you are two years later..I never dropped you ( that whole, rolling off the bed thing? Yeah! That was ALL you!) You have actually had more than just one diaper change over the past 24 months. And yes, I do think that squirting the Caprisun is WAY more fun than actually drinking it! I can’t believe how fast two years has gone by. Happy 2nd birthday baby! Thank you for hanging in there with us!

Love,

Mom and Dad

Do you ever? June 23, 2009

Do you ever have THOSE days where you just don’t want to smile?

Do you ever have THOSE days where you force the smile because you know it’s what everyone else needs you to do?

Do you ever just want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream? Scream so loud that God HAS to hear your pain? Has to deal with your anger! Has to hear that you fucking hate his plan?

Do you ever just want to tell everyone around you ,”NO !!!!!I AM NOT OKAY!!! Stop asking me like you are a waiter at a restaurant and I am a customer who just told you that my eggs were cooked wrong!”  You can sit and stare at me all you want people but I promise it is not going to speed up my grieving process!!

My husband met this “Great Guy” a couple of weeks ago. And when he is telling me how “Great ” this guy he met is,he instantly starts to tell me how they also lost a child. I am immediately angry with him. Angry that he feels the need to bond with this family. Angry that this guy is “Great” and I should instantly bond with his wife because she also lost a child.  As if me simply haivng lost a son makes me a wonderful person? They don’t know anytihng about me. It’s like me losing a son has become a business card of sorts. “Great Guy” tells his wife about how I am “Great”. “Great Guy” calls my husband and tells my husband  how he told HIS  wife how “Great ” I  am. And then my husband tells me how “great guy” called to tell HIM how HE told HIS wife how “great” I am! What is it with people? Why is it that anyone who has lost a child …suddenly everyone wants them to be friends with so and so who “also lost a child”? It’s like the shitty blind date game your parents play after you’ve been divorced and they think you have to have a man to help you raise your kids. You poor thing…you need a man! You can’t go home alone at night. You need a man!  (Because the last one did so freaking much for you , right?)

And so my husband tries to play match maker with “great guy” and his wife who lost a child. As if somehow the one year mark is going to hurt less because he has set me up on this  fucking……”playdate”, right?

I’m angry right now. I am hurting and I just wish , for once, that I could be allowed to hurt and be angry without everyone trying to FIX me! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! Let me hurt! Let me miss my son. Stop trying to fix me!

I’m not okay. I am trying SO hard to be okay. I really am! I am going through all the motions. I am filing out health insurance questionairres. I am talking about babies and “when I get pregnant” stories.It makes the in-laws smile. It makes the husband happy. But damn it! I am so fucking angry! I shouldn’t have to be filling out applications. I shouldn’t have to be “trying” to get pregnant. I should have my completed family.

I am tired of the “you have three healthy kids to be grateful for”……I KNOW! And because I have them I know what I lost !!!! Newsflash people…it doesn’t hurt LESS simply because I have three more. This isn’t a game of buy two get one free. It doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to hurt because I have children! SO.STOP.TRYING.TO.MAKE.THE.SON.I.LOST.SEEM.REPLACEABLE.!!!!!

Do you ever ….just want to scream?

Just sayin’…….. June 20, 2009

So? My EX  has been with Ms.Unhappy now for a little over two years. When it started out she was loving and kind with Crazy#1 and Crazy#2. She was fun to be around and there were times I was jealous and wished that I could be the fun one instead of the disciplinarian all the time.

Now, before I begin my venting let me say that from the very first day I  met Ms.Unhappy,  I have been respectful. Kind. Warm and welcoming . She was a HUGE step up from the last girlfriend my EX had….or so it seemed. As many times as she has been rude and disrespectful I have said nothing. I have said nothing out of respect for my EX. To keep the peace between he and I. To be the better person in this.  And because I cannot ask or expect my sons to be respectful if I am not in return. So, rather than stoop to her level I am going to vent here today. (I apologize to my one fan !)

Fast forward to present day.  It’s like her shelf date expired and she has turned bad….VERY bad! She talks to Crazy#1 and Crazy #2 like they are less than her. As if them simply existing is a personal insult to her. Now Ms.Unhappy doesn’t work. From what I gather Mommy and Daddy pay for whatever she wants. Which..whatever. Good for you…i guess.  She does, however, take art classes that are SUPER stressful!( Or so my EX likes to blame her attitude and behavior on) So? I can hardly expect her to treat my sons with any kind of decency under such enormous stress as that. Or to even treat them like actual human beings…right? 

 Crazy#1 and Crazy#2 come home after three days there last week and informed me that Ms.Unhappy has made a schedule for them. Complete with daily workbooks…bedtime by 10 …up by 7…breakfast at this time….lunch…chores….Enough said, you get the picture, right? I am not against schedules. I am not against chores or bedtimes. But this is summer vacation. They don’t have to be at school in the morning. They don’t have homework. It’s not like Ms. Unhappy has to DO anything but have fun with them. She doesn’t have to get up at 6:00…pack lunches. Get them all off to school….pick up….homework…sports…dinner…showers..laundry……No! My husband and I do all the work and they get to be the Disneyland parents. How much easier could that be? (Now….before I get any further….let me say right here…I have NO….NONE…NADA….issue with a person’s weight…UNLESS….you are the 275lb., 26 year old making my sons feel like second class citizens!! Not like I’m some fabulous size 4 or anything either. So PLEASE….no hate mail. OKAY??) Ms. Unhappy is a control freak. Not the good kind of control freak who cleans and organizes and hosts PTA parties, boyscout meetings and  pleasure parties  partylite parties all on the same night but rather the “It’s my world and you simply exist in it” control freak. The” You will ALL do what I want. When I want . So I don’t actually have to do anything. That kind of control freak.  Amongst the strict schedule she has created ,Crazy #1 and Crazy #2 are upset with how rude she is to them AND their dad.  

And just in case you read yesterday’s blog ( I think I may have one FOLLOWER)  yes! This is the same Ms.Unhappy  whose presence we were cursed blessed with while camping this past weekend. So? I have made a list of a few  tips and rules for Ms.Unhappy…..

1.) While Crazy #1 or Crazy #2 are  on the phone talking to ME ….MIGHT be a good time for you to  shut your pie-hole as you’re REALLY not as quiet and soft spoken as you have yourself convinced you are.

2.) When you find out FOR SURE  that Crazy#1   IS in fact on the phone with ME, you might THEN want to  shut your pie-hole.

3.) When you come into MY home…try to muster a smile and a hello before plopping your huge ass in MY chair at MY kitchen table. Turning  your back to me , ignoring me and being a total wench? Not cool Ms.Unhappy. Not cool at all. 

4.) When you  go camping? Is is usually a nice thing to…oh, I don’t know. Get off your ass for at least a minute during the weekend  and offer to help out with  something…..ANYTHING!

5.) Forcing Crazy #1 and Crazy #2 to eat things that their dad as well as myself have clearly told you they hate and as their PARENTS have made the choice not to make a big deal of……NOT VERY BRIGHT!  Could POSSIBLY explain why every meal with them is turning into a shoot out at the OK corral. Hate to state the obvious Ms.Unhappy but you are really in for a long summer.

6.) Constantly lecturing Crazy#1 and Crazy #2 on diet and nutrition when you are pushing  at least 275lbs. yourself, never do anything close to resembling exercise and brag about how you  “can easily tear through a 6 pack of Pepsi a day”! Hmm…perhaps not the route I would have taken with them!

8.) Emasculating my sons dad in front of everyone on a constant and regular basis? I can assure you my sons don’t appreciate it OR find it funny! Nor does anyone else for that matter!

9.) Monitoring Crazy #1 ‘s phone calls and text messages to and from me…. HIS MOM…not your business or your place considering I bought the phone and also pay for his service!!

10.) Perhaps you should try walking your own yappy rat dogs…I think the fresh air and exercise would do wonders for your less than pleasant attitude.

11.) When in my presence, you might want to pretend to be a kind and  decent person rather than to just reaffirm the reasons my sons can’t stand you! I can keep telling my sons to be respectful towards you but I can promise you that, like me, even THEY have their breaking point!

12.) Stop sending me parenting emails as if you have the slightest clue on what being a mom is all about. First of all you have to be SELFLESS not SELFISH… you may want to rethink the whole idea of my EX  having his vasectomy reversed after that newsflash!

13.) Don’t make comments about your and my EX’s  sex life in front of me.Behind me. Around me. Or anywhere I can hear you…it’s just gross and childish.

14.) When I call Crazy#1 and Crazy#2 because I miss them don’t say things like,” It’s ONLY been three days! How can she miss you already?”….it just makes you sound and look stupid to them!

15.) Stop complaining ( to the boys) about the four shirts you have HAD to buy them  over the past two years. You DO realize that when you have your own kids you will actually have to buy them pants , socks, shoes and maybe even a jacket???      Just checking.

16.) Know that when you are calling me every name in the book  on a pretty regular basis ( in front of my sons) that it will  get back to me .Every. Single .Time. You only have the boys on average ..six nights a month. I recommend you keep your comments to yourself for those few days. That will leave you AT LEAST a good 22-26 days of the month to talk crap about me!

17.) Blaming your period for  your shitty moods and your behavior towards EVERYONE?? Really?  Pop some Pamprin and get on with life!

Just sayin’….

The rum never ran out June 18, 2009

   This past weekend we went camping. Truth  be told it was a less than perfect camping trip. There was one particular person who was just a total and complete brat the entire weekend.   Didn’t like this…didn’t like that. Was visably upset about one thing or another most of the weekend.  The kind of unhappy that makes everyone else uncomfortable and on edge.

Don’t get me wrong. The camping trip was a bit doomed even without Ms. Unhappy . It rained on and off for most of the day on Saturday. It was cold and damp. Our plans to spend the day on the boat were interupted. Tents got flooded. Sleeping bags got soaked. Plans were changing constantly based on what the weather was that hour.

And still? Despite the nasty weather. Despite a certain someone’s less than cheerful attitude? We managed to have our fun.The kids still had fun. They got to run in the rain and the mud. They built forts.We took lots of nature walks. Who knew collecting sticks could be so much fun? At one point we got a short break in the rain and Crazy#1 and his good friend were able to take off in the kayaks for an on- the- lake adventure. 

Despite the rain our campfire never went out. The BBQ kept working and spit out some of the most amaizng tri-tip I have ever tasted.  We all huddled under our EZ up and managed to stay dry during the heaviest downpours. My husband and I took every sleeping bag we own which came to about 10. And somehow at the end of the night he and I ended up in our truck with one sleeping bag. And you know what? It was okay. It all worked out in the end. I realized ,after this weekend, that our family can get through anything. We can find the beauty and the laughter no matter what life throws our way. We’ve lost alot this past year. A son. A great grandmother. A great grandfather. A job. 

More importantly is WHAT we haven’t lost. We haven’t lost our ability to smile. To love. To be kind to each other and those around us. To pick ourselves up and keep on going.

 I  don’t think we will be going camping with Ms.Unhappy ever again. Life is just way to short to be wasted on certain people’s attitudes.  Life is an every changing adventure that you cannot control. But as far as this weekend ? I’m happy to say…….

 The rum never ran out!!

Does it ever stop? June 15, 2009

I sit here, exactly 11 months and 1 day, after losing my son Ethan. I wonder if the weight of his loss will ever lessen. Will I ever look at his pictures and not cry. Will I ever look at his tiny little fingers  in the pictures and not want to fall to the ground sobbing?

And another thing comes to me. Everyone thinks I am fine. I don’t “look” like I am hurting anymore. I don’t “appear” to be grieving anymore. I have been under this microscope for 11 months and 1 day. Careful on what I say and how I present my grief to those around me.  Concious of their discomfort with my pain and my grief.  Aware that their silence is their discomfort with my grief. Aware that my smiles are there to  help them  with their discomfort.

What is the “correct” amount of time to grieve?

Yesterday was the 11 month mark. I hurt all day. I could feel myself wanting to break all day. And yet? I didn’t. Maybe because I felt I couldn’t. Because everyone else’s life has continued to go on and I feel, somedays, that I am standing still. That I am still lying on that table holding my breath. Waiting for the ultrasound technician to say something happy or friendly. And all there is is silence. Waiting for her to say everything is okay. But it isn’t. It wasn’t.

I want him back. I want to hold him in my arms …not in a small cherry wood box but in my arms. Laughing and giggling. He would be crawling now. He would be trying to keep up with his older brothers. He would be leaving his smudgy finger prints all over the kitchen door. He would be throwing his food on the floor and demanding that his brother return HIS toy.

But there is only silence and emptiness where he should be. And in my head and my heart there is only pain.

Does it ever stop?