And So It Begins...

I'm sitting here fighting tears.  My heart is in my throat.  I feel like there's not enough air in the room.  I can't get a deep enough breath.  I just want to start sobbing.  You know, just get it out.  But my make-up will run and I'm at work.  I should be working, not weeping over something as predictable and silly as this.

I just realized I've got practically no time left.  No, nothing as dramatic as my health or anyone else's.  Nothing dramatic at all.  It's just my little girl ... my baby ... grew up.  Somehow in one fell and extremely sudden swoop she's happy away from me - all day!  Yesterday was her first day at camp - at the Arts Camp that Laura runs - and she loved it.  No, she didn't just love it - she LOVED it.  She loved it so much she put herself early to bed last night and got herself up early this morning to be sure she got there on time.  She voiced her concern, as we got ourselves dressed and ready, that I wouldn't have a full day's worth of work to do today and might come pick her up early.   

With this, I know she can handle school in the fall.  We are on a (long) waiting list for our first pick, which is a 3 hour Kindergarten, so I called up our second choice - a full day deal.  They were fine with me registering her for the fall.  "When do classes begin?" I asked.  "August 29th."  and with that, my stomach twisted and the tears began winning the battle.

How many times have I complained that I can't just go on a run?  Or read the newspaper?  Or watch a movie before midnight?  Or had the time to go window shopping?  How many times have I lamented the lack of "me time?"  Soon, I'll have more "me time" than "me" will know what to do with.  Granted, while she's at school, I will most likely be working and ... with things topsy turvey at work too, who knows if that'll be from home or in-person ... but STILL.  I've got 6 Thursdays left with her this summer (my weekday off).  SIX!!!  (No, no, no, don't you cry Katie...)  Well, there are actually eight left but she's in camp for two more weeks in August and I know she won't let me renegotiate that deal.  So, six.

I have two mini vacations I want to take with her and now I have to figure out how to jam them in to the few weeks I have left before 'real life' takes over.  The money that I don't have seems less important now... the time and attention seems to be weighing over the budgetary restrictions.

I suppose one could think I'm being melodramatic but there's no way I'll give anyone that.  Of course this isn't my first time at this.  I'm no rookie here.  I can tell you with authority that while life can move at a snail's pace for me, it careens by on a SR-71 Blackbird for the kids.  Tim and Cheyanne grew up in - oh, I don't know - two or three months?

And while I can also tell you there's not an age I didn't love and there hasn't been a moment in time when I'd have traded their current age with one prior (no, Chey, not even at 9)... the growing up of this particular child is really hard to take.  There's no chance for another.  This is it.  The finale.  I don't get my miracle again ten years from now.  When she grows up and leaves the nest, it will be empty.  It will be very, very empty.

On Tim's graduation night, my 38th birthday coincidentally, I couldn't sleep.  I ended up sobbing on the couch at some ridiculous o'clock like two or such.  It was Cheyanne that came down to console me that night.  It was a moment so similar to this one.  "It's about to be over."  I sobbed to my (now) eldest daughter.  "I know you haven't even graduated yet, but it goes so freaking fast and it's going to be over in no time.  What am I supposed to do with myself then?"  I asked her sort of hypothetically.  She assured me that no one was going anywhere, that I'd still be mom, that we'd still be a family, that no family was as closely knit as ours.  "Don't worry Mom" she said.  "It's going to be fine."

I know she was right.  Even though God smiled on my pathetic face and gave me Dia, in no way have my precious first two moved on away from me.  They are still very much in my daily life.  Everything is OK just as Chey predicted.

Still.  Even though I have a few minutes before I have to figure out what I'm supposed to do with myself once Dia is grown, the fact of the matter is I don't want to do anything else.  I really like being a mom.  I like playing Polly Pockets with pirates and dinosaurs (all at once).  I like reading stories and cuddling on the couch watching movies I don't even necessarily like.  I love watching her, still awkward and tentative, taking a step further every day in swim class.  I love the funny way she runs and how she makes me make up the most insane stories (on the way to camp today she hit me with "tell me a story about an egg (with a chick inside), a salmon and a bacon fish").  I love every part of this part of life and I don't look forward to it's end.

Dr Seuss (I think) said "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."  I'll try doc, but I'm not promising anything.

It's Not Broken

Some of you know that Dia has issues with her blood sugar levels.  It's pretty serious some days but there are other days, when we've got the whole diet figured out to a science for a week or so, where I can get lulled into a sense of denial and convince myself she's cured. When her body proves to me otherwise and I have the horrible and often painful wake-up call that she has not, actually, miraculously outgrown this, I always have a sense of grief about it.  I wish so much for her that she could just be like other kids.

But because my God is particularly humbling, He has provided me with friends who can't ever lull themselves into such a state of pure unadulterated denial even temporarily.  Their children's conditions are not ever going to give them that luxury.   On the days when I'm feeling sad for Dia (or for me) I'm often provided the reality check that we don't actually have a very big challenge to face after all.

Sabra is one of these parents and she has a wonderful blog that I've mentioned before and that you really should follow if you aren't already. In a late April entry, she shared something Emma, her daughter, said about autism awareness "...yearn to understand that everyone with this reality is exactly who they are supposed to be."

I have Louise Hay's book on healing. Dia likes me to look up whatever hurts her and then she determines if the reason is what Louise Hay suggests (so, for instance, if her tummy is bothering her it might be due to fear of the new) and if Dia agrees that's what is going on, she takes a deep breath and says the meditation that goes along (again, for instance, "Life agrees with me. The universe holds my best interest at heart.").

Not long ago she had a bunch of aches and pains and we were going through the book, per her request. She had also gone high that day (sugars), so I took it upon myself to read her that one. Do you know what she said?

"I don't want to change that. My sugar problems are part of who I am. That doesn't need to be fixed because it's not broken, it's just different."

I didn't follow why she actually wanted this condition of hers and so I asked her if maybe it was because she liked having to have sugar sometimes.  (She gets candy or sweets periodically throughout the day when her sugars drop low.)

"No" she answered "not really.  But if that got fixed I wouldn't be me."

Huh. Who knew?

So I figure maybe these 'special' kids are - as Sabra so gorgeously described it - fearfully and wonderfully created by God just as He designed. Maybe we are even a little arrogant in thinking that they would rather be like the other kids as opposed to merely having the other kids accept them as they are.  And truth be told?  I don't think that's unique to them - I think every one of us would like to be accepted exactly as we are too.

KEC

The Hardest Word, Redux

I've said I do poorly with "goodbye."  You've already heard that one from me here.  Furthermore, I'm supposed to be producing an upbeat, happy blog where people can go to get away from the bad news of the day.  So, I'm not going to spend much time editing this one and I'm going to warn you upfront that I feel very self-serving posting this. 

With that said...

This weekend I said goodbye to one of my favorite people in the whole world, Sabra.  She's not gone forever from my life, but she's now 2000 miles away.  Gone are the days when I could just ring her up and meet her out for a margarita (and feel awful about the headache she'd inevitably suffer the next day).  Gone are the days where she'd watch Dia and then I'd hang out for way too long afterwards.  Gone are the days when she was sure to attend all of our crazy parties and make them that much happier with her presence.  I can still call her and get my fix of that wonderfully contagious laugh, but I can't pretend that I won't miss her every single day.

And the weekend before, my big buddy, Logan - that awful, stinky and senile dog of mine - passed away.  I suppose if there were solace to be found it was that I was right there with him.  If that dog were ever graceful, it was in the way he left this world. 

The night before he passed away all was normal - he came inside and had some dinner and wanted back out afterward.  It was a nice night and he was happy on his blanket on the patio.  He woke me up at midnight to top off his water bowl as always.  The only significant difference was that he didn't wake me up again at 4:00 a.m.  At 6:00 a.m. I woke on my own, realized what time it was and went to check on him.  He was fine.  About an hour later, though, I checked on him again and he seemed incapable of getting up.  I tried to give him water, but he wouldn't drink.  My neighbor, Rhonda, came out to bring him some treats as she always does in the morning and I explained he was having a hard time.  We both sat with him for quite awhile talking quietly and giving him pats.  Eventually his breathing became labored so I sat on the front porch petting him and feeding him ice chips.  At one point Dia woke up and I brought her downstairs to sit with him too.  She helped me with the ice chips and stroked his head.  His breathing slowed and then stopped and he just quietly passed from this world.  We bent and gave him a kiss, but my big buddy was no more.

I'm not going to review all my losses over all the years, but I do know that the cumulative loss of friends and family plays a lot in how much these subsequent losses sting.  I suppose it's not so shocking to me these days so there's a dignity I can manage now as opposed to when I was more of a rookie at it, but with each loss there's some nostalgia for everyone I've lost before. 

................  Ah, but before I get too swamped down in my pity mire, let me shine a light on the flip side of all of this.  Sabra's going away picnic brought people together that I love.  In saying goodbye to the Murphy's I said a renewed hello to other friends.  Another going away party a few weeks prior introduced me to hilariously funny and kind people who I hope will soon call me "friend" too.  And, at the close of this weekend, I sat down to a Thanksgiving II dinner with my silly family plus two new friends and had the best time just eating, chatting and enjoying each other. 
   
Someday the Murphys will visit and we'll all sit around laughing, clowning and commiserating with each other just like old times; and someday a dog will come into our lives that needs our love and care and fits into our strange family.  Until those times come, I'll retire my sadness and celebrate the moments we have now.  After all, life is good.

Dear God

Hello, God.  It’s me, Katie.  Your humble servant.  

 … What?  Oh, yeah, OK – um, about that.   I will try to watch my language more.  Yes, yes, that’s true. Two of my three children have uttered “JeZUS Cuh-rist” in frustration before the age of 5.  Guilty.  Sorry about that.

… What?  Oh, right…  but that was a long time ago, God.  Surely we’d let bygones be bygones by now, wouldn’t we?  …. What?  Oh, yes there is that bit in the Lord’s Prayer about “forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Yes, that DOES sound like a conditional thing now that you mention it.  

… What?  Oh, well, yes, I suppose that could be considered unforgiving of me but …. 

Yes, Sir.  I will try harder.

But can we get back to why I came here today?  I was just going to say that I don’t ask for much, God, and I was wondering if … 

... What?  Oh, well, yes, I DID ask for that.  Yes, that was a big one.  She is wonderful and makes me very happy.  Thank you so very much.  Have I not thanked you for her lately?   Oh, whew, good to know I did THAT right.

... What?  Oh, sorry, you are right that was kind of sarcastic.  You think I’m too sarcastic?  Well, I don’t know that … 

... What?  Yes, yes, that’s true.  Dia has learned how to use the word “NOT!” after her satiric remarks, but that’s not so bad, really  - is it?  …. Oh, yes I suppose that's true.  I will try harder on that one too.

But, really, I was just going to say that I really AM ever so grateful for this life of mine.  I know I’ve mentioned this before but I really love what you’ve done with the place.  It’s quite amazing, this earth we live on.  I have to give you a BIG virtual hug on letting me move away from Indiana.  It’s pretty awful, God, you might want to put someone on that.

…What?  Oh, right, I’ll let you do your job.  Yes Sir, I do think you probably know what you are doing.  I was just saying … 

... What?  Yes, I suppose that COULD be considered judgmental on my part, but I … 

... What?  Yes, Sir, I suppose we should save the judging for you.  I will try harder, Sir.

OK, but as I was saying – I really do appreciate your work.  And I have to say "thank you" a thousand times over for my family, especially the kids, God.  They have been more to me than I could have ever dreamed.  Also, thank you for my friends, my job, my home, my health and – well, I’m pretty sure you are a great mind-reader so you probably know everything already – but you have set me up pretty well in this life.  I’m genuinely appreciative.  I know how bad things can be and I don’t deal with anything much, really, in the scheme of things.  That never goes unnoticed and I want you to know that I owe you big for it.

… What?  Yes, you can quote me on that.  

But I was wondering…  is it wrong to ask for more when you have so much?  

… What?  Oh, of course, I understand the answer might be “no.”   OK, with that in mind, here’s what I’m thinking – could you create and/or send me a man with the following:  Looks like Vin Diesel or Stephen Colbert … 

... What?  Yes, Sir, I do understand those two have no common features.   Yes, Sir, I suppose I have been told I was weird before.

ANYway – yes, so he should look like Vin Diesel or Stephen Colbert, he should have the humor of Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert or either of the two guys from The Upside Down Show; he should love my family and particularly my kids; he should have no obsessive tendencies; also he should have his own money but without being a workaholic; he should be between 44 and 49 years old and in perfect health but without extreme exercise regiments or food rules; yes – and on that – he must eat like a real person – you know, butter and real cheese and heavy cream when it calls for it; um… what else???  

 … What?  Yes, I DO know we are already on the verge of the “No” answer but I’m on a roll.   

What was it I used to say?  I want a man who, when he sees I had a bad day, picks me up into his arms and strokes my hair telling me all will be just fine while he carefully moves onto the tile so that the blood from the gunshot wound he’s nursing doesn’t stain the carpet.  You know, like at the end of Bruce Willis movies.  

 … What?  No, God, I suppose that isn’t very realistic.  

 … What?  Yes, I have considered that my expectations might be a little high.  

 … What?  Yes, Sir, I did thank you for my job, why?  Oh, right.  Yes, Sir.  I won’t give up my day job.  Thank you for that advice.  I'll get back to work now.

Amen

Rescue Me

Help!  I’m being held hostage! 

My captives are a 5 year old human, a decrepit urine-soaked dog, a scowling cat with a tendency toward ill-timed hairballs and two parakeets with particularly finicky stomachs requiring brutally expensive seed.  Together they require me to tend to their every need and whim all while earning income enough to keep them all fed, housed and comforted to their hearts' content. 

I’m pretty sure the small child is the ringleader.  She defends the animals with ridiculous vengeance and controls all the electronic equipment, particularly the television remote.  I believe this is a part of an elaborate brainwashing scheme.  For five years I’ve been exposed only to preschool shows, Disney movies and late night television.

She is also versed in sleep deprivation torture.  I believe she has somehow transferred her night waking to the dog.  Five short months ago she finally began sleeping through the night allowing me the same privilege, only to now have my sleep interrupted at least twice each night in order to tend to the senile canine.

Do not call the cops.  I repeat: NO COPS!!  They are in cahoots with my captives and further they run up exorbitant bills and leave me with the tab. 

Please send reinforcements.  Cash is accepted. Large bills are welcome.  Please do not send gift certificates without first negotiating a furlough and a babysitter.  Also useful would be a nanny along the lines of Mary Poppins, a kilo of patchouli incense and a zookeeper (preferably one that is male, single, tall, handsome and unbearably witty and if he happens to resemble Vin Diesel with a British accent, all the better). 

– must dash… The ringleader seems to be growing bored with Nick Jr. and I fear for my safety if I’m caught.

 Oh No!  no!  aaahhh - she's taking the computer over!  dddddddddddddddww444xdsrrgi8uklok

 (I'm sure that's code that only the dog can decipher...)