Watch out! (Probably not a "good" watch out)

This grief is an unwanted beast

Weighing me down

Pinning me to the ground.

Like Alice falling into wonderland

I am in Neverland

Never again.

A million times a day

I re-remember

I cannot tell her the word of the day she would love (fofaraw)

Or see a yellar (yellow car)

Or play office in silence as we content-dly focus on our own tasks.

Or suggest something she most definitely does not want to do and have her tell me in disgust, "FINE!" (Even this I miss)

Elmo makes me cry not laugh.

The clocks in the bookshop stopped on their own accord the day she died.

Her room is timeless.

The wall of love photos are de-taching themselves.

Those eyes of love no longer adore them.

The little lights refuse to shine.

The yearning is ceaseless.

Like contractions without the birth.

Perhaps I am birthing a new me, a new world, one without my sweet girl.

I know not how to navigate this wange (weird strange) new world.

I see the mothers who now remember to say "I love you" or give an extra hug, as I am a reminder of the vulnerability we all share.

Still, I would rather have Ellie back than be this lesson.  Selfish I know.

This colorless world I inhabit makes no sense.

 

Resorting

[caption id="attachment_3885" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="On the balcony of our hotel."][/caption]

Scary Dark Water Tunnels

This past weekend my mom took us to a resort  with the main goal of having FUN.  We were at the Water Park and I decided to ride one of the water slides.  The last time we were at a Water Park I rode the water slide and had a fantastic time.  Well as I neared the top of the water slide, I saw that no one was waiting in line for the yellow slide.   Wow, I thought it was my lucky day and prepared to go down.  I quickly realized why no one was on that particular water slide.  It was small and dark and scary inside.  I immediately thought, "This is SO not fun.  I want outta here!!"  Then, I recalled Camille Cosby sharing how when their son died she realized that some of the grief was something she just had to go through.  I realized that sometimes, not always but sometimes, you just have to go through that dark scary tunnel to get to the big splash at the end.

You are Safe

Ben and I were floating down the lazy river together.  Rather, Ben was floating down the river and I was pushing him.  Ben decided that he wanted me to get my own raft and ride beside him.  As I struggled to get into my raft, Ben continued to float away from me.  Suddenly heard Ben scream out loudly.  I looked over and Ben was sputtering and wet and definately off his raft.  I raced over.  He was crying, telling me how he had gone upside down under his raft.  As I was trying to assist him, the river kept racing, throwing children into us.  As I righted him and we continued on the river, I explained that the depth of the river was never taller than he is.  What a metaphor.  How many times in life do we panic, thinking there is no help, we can't touch bottom.  If only in those moments we could remember to calmly plant our feet on the ground.

Better than Chocolate Cake

After movie viewing with my mom, she asks what message or lesson we learned.  As we left the resort this weekend, I asked everyone in the car what they had gained message-wise.  Ben immediately said that he thought moms should not leave their children unattended in their boats.  I thought oh boy, my approval rating didn't rise in that one.  About a month ago, he came home with a drawing of a heart he had created in art class with all the things he loved best.  There was, of course, a T-Rex, Lotta, chocolate cake, even the baby lion at the zoo made the list.  Not wanting to motivate him with guilt, but curious, nonetheless, I inquired what I could do to improve my rating.  He said that making him chocolate cake every single day would  do it.

Boy is it human today!

[caption id="attachment_3874" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Two of my sunshines."][/caption]

You are my sunshine

I used to sing to Ellie in the hospital, particularly after her first surgery, as she lay in the PICU at 20 months.  It gave me something to do, a way to comfort her when I was unable to pick her up (because moving her around was painful for her and she had a large amount of tubing that made it quite complicated.)  One of the songs I would sing to her was "You are My Sunshine."

Last Friday was Family Fun Night at Ben and Ellie's school.  I decided to walk through the rain with my umbrella (it has a duck shaped hole in it, isn't that wange?)  with Lotta strapped onto my front.  As we approached the school, I saw a gaggle of kids crossing the street with 2 grown-ups.  One little girl walked more slowly.  She had on her rain slicker, her umbrella, her rain boots.  She was singing, "You are My Sunshine".  On the one hand, it was raining, making this an appropriate tune.  Instead, I enjoyed thinking that Ellie was whispering in her ear, "Sing this song!"

Human

Last week (or perhaps the week before--who knows?), as Ben and I were walking home from the bus stop, he said, "Oh am glad it's not as human as it was this morning!"  I realized immediately he meant humid.

Favorite planet

Ben was explaining how he was learning about the planets at school.  He told me if I knew his favorite planet.  I took a few guesses, starting with the controversial Pluto.  He then announced that the sun was his favorite, because it could, in fact destroy all the other planets.  Hmm.

Mr. Smarty Pants

Recently, I read that new studies suggest telling kids they are smart causes them to not attempt challenging tasks for fear of losing that smart label.  At one point, I started to tell Ben that he was smart, and stopped myself, explaining to Ben the latest research.  Now its our joke, every time I slip up and start to comment that what Ben is

[caption id="attachment_3875" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben all spiffed up."][/caption]

For the ladies..

Mother's Day Ben took a shower, styled his hair, put on deodorant.  He clothed himself in a collared shirt with tie.  He told us he did all this "for the ladies"

Lance Armstrong

At Zumba on Thursday night, one of my classmates (zumba mates?) gave me a yellow Livestrong bracelet.  Ben saw it on me and HAD to wear it to school.  I explained that Lance Armstrong is an incredibly amazing man.  He survived when the doctors said he had no hope.  Ben responded that he wished we'd had a bracelet when Ellie were alive so that she could have worn one and lived.  Me too.

I Will Survive

Today marks 5 months.  5 months of no beautimiles.  5 months of no silly jokes or made up words.  5 months of all the clocks not working in the bookshop.  As my heart breaks wide open, once again, I know somehow that I will survive.  (And not only because that songs says so.)  I come from strong stuff.  My paternal ancestors survived the Trail of Tears.  My maternal grandfather survived being kept a prisoner of war in Northern Africa during World War II.  He was so thirsty he wanted to cut off his own arm to have access to liquid.  My mom survived malaria 3 times.  And compared to all that, my little thing seems trivial.  While I know I will survive, it does not tame this insatiable longing.  Nor fill the empty space.

The Magic Continues

[caption id="attachment_3821" align="alignleft" width="200" caption="Perhaps the only photo of all 5 of us (kindergaren registration). "][/caption]

What is that in the bath water?

Much to Lotta's dismay, I decided to give Lotta a bath while in Memphis.  As I was stepping into the bath, I noticed something purple floating around.  You guessed it, there was a piece of purple crayon paper.  I mean finding a crayon paper remaint at our house is to be expected.  But in Memphis?  I mean it made no logical sense.  Ellie had not been there in a year and a half AND their house is thoroughly cleaned on a weekly basis.  I felt like it was a little joke from Ellie.

More number games

Whenever Dr. Daddy would call the hospital, he would be required to give Ellie's date of birth (1/26).  So when Susan told us that from Memphis, we would take Exit 126, we both smiled.

But wait there is more..

Then Susan told us that their place is off of Highway 13 and I thought, why am I not surprised by that?  (January 13 is the day Ellie passed).

The Printer A knowledgeable computer person in Malawi set up a new printer for my mom and Moffat.  When the printer was turned on for the first time, it spit out a copy of one of my blogs (from February entitled, "Class Poems".)

The Mail Carrier I was curious as to whether or not our mail carrier knew that Ellie had passed.  I mean he delivers our mail, he sees that we receive mail from the hospital, Make-A-Wish, Hospice Care, etc.  When I asked him, it was as if I had socked him in the stomach he was so shaken up.  He has 4 children and through our conversation we discovered that his eldest daughter was born on the exact same day as Ellie.  Now when he sees me he avoids my gaze, I understand that right now I make him feel vulnerable.  I also know that if I try to amend things with him, let him know that I get it, it could actually make things worse.  I have found that people around me feel highly uncomfortable when I turn to comforting them.  So I have to resist the urge as much as I possibly can.

Brittany's Tale Shortly after Ellie passed, Brittany shared this story with me.  She said she had gone for a massage with a woman who is both a masseuse and a medium.  The medium/masseuse told Brittany that she was getting a message from a little girl, Brittany, of course, immediately thought of Ellie.  The little girl's message was that even if Brittany did not always feel like it, the work she is doing IS important.  Brittany went on to pay.  The medium/masseuse came back and told Brittany that the little girl was extremely persistent and wanted her to write it down for Brittany so that she would not forget.  Sounds like Ellie doesn't it?

Unsung Heroes

[caption id="attachment_3839" align="alignleft" width="239" caption="Thom, the unsung poop hero. Serious business."][/caption]

Every Wednesday, Thom has been swimming with Ben's kindergarten class.  Last week, as he was getting dressed, a boy came racing into the locker room trying to get to the toilet.  Unfortunately, he was a bit late and a LOT messy.  Thom helped him get cleaned up (it was a #2 accident, if I wasn't clear on that point).  He said it was so strange that he did all of that for this little guy, who didn't even know him (he was from another kindergarten class) and that no one knew what he had done.  It made me think of all that moms do every single day that no one knows about.  It made me want to shine some light on these unsung heroes (and on Thom too!).

[caption id="attachment_3841" align="alignright" width="239" caption="Celebrating Easter in style."][/caption]

My mom is a crowning, sparkling jewel.  She has a kindness and gentleness that I strive to emulate in my own mothering.  She taught me that even if you are 50, or maybe especially if you are, you can realize your lifelong dream.  When she would sit with Ellie, they would laugh and talk and talk.  My mom never grew tired of Ellie's stories.  She would listen as intently the 6th retelling as she did on the first.  Pure love.  She loves to laugh.  She is THE most fun person to watch television with.  Because when she watches a program, she fully commits to watching.  She laughs, cries, talks to the characters.  When Betsy C was with us right after Ellie passed, she commented that she never knew watching television could be so much fun.   We both share an inordinate love of socks and their glamorizing impact on any ensemble.  I am so glappy that not only is she my mom, she is one of my best friends.

[caption id="attachment_3840" align="alignleft" width="239" caption="Susan snuggles Lotta after the burial."][/caption]

My sister is my back-up mom.  She is my emergency contact (literally).  Because even though she lives in Memphis, a mere 10 hour drive from Madison, I know that if there were an actual emergency here she would get 'er done.  As an example, there was one day a few months ago, I was concerned about one of my brothers.  I texted Susan from the bus stop.  She immediately texted my brother and phoned the other brother.  By the time I arrived home from the busstop (approximately 5 minutes) she had answered my question.  She is a super woman.  She embraces her life and her family.  When she traveled to Madison solo with her children in the fall, they all had such a synergy, a flow that made everything easier.  How fortunate am I to have a sister who doubles as my mother figure whenever my own mother is out of the country? And is also one of my bestest greatest friends.

Even though Betsy C. is not officially a mother, she is a

[caption id="attachment_3838" align="alignright" width="239" caption="Betsy stands by Ben as he shares the day Ellie died."][/caption]

mother in the bigger sense of the word.  When Ellie was going through the process of dying, Betsy came into the room and told her, "You are doing a good job."  I was so struck by that.  Because while it was excruciating for me to watch Ellie, unable to talk, lying in bed, she was in fact doing a good job of leaving her body.  She was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing in that moment.  And it took someone with a large enough vision, like Betsy, to see that.  So many times in my life when my thoughts could have gone in a less than ideal direction, it was Betsy who pointed out something or asked a certain question and pulled me down a different path.  A path that was ultimately more fulfilling more wonderful.

And there are so many others who light my way, inspiring me as a mom.  Jenny Behm was my neighbor and close friend when we lived outside of Chicago.  You can tell when she talks with her children that her guiding principle is kindness, she just oozes love.  She is another gentle soul.

My mother-in-law, Nancy, so creative and talented.  She has brought so much color into my home.  Requests from me for tasks that at first confounded her she always thanked me (instead of cursing me) for the challenge in the end.  She raises the best sons!!!

[caption id="attachment_3843" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Amy and Sara visit in the fall."][/caption]

My sister-in-law, Sara, who taught me how you can travel cross country in a mini-van and arrive with your sense of humor in tact.  She is a great southern lady and full of grace.  My sister-in-law, Amy, who taught me that even if you are a mother you can still READ, this may sound like a lame lesson, but it has in fact been REALLY important to my survival in the past few years.  Both of them together taught me how fast they could clean up a meal while visiting us last fall.  Sara called it "mom energy".

My great friend, Amy Riley who taught me how to be a mom AND live a great life.  She is such a superb example of balancing the 2.

[caption id="attachment_3848" align="alignright" width="239" caption="The heart shaped memorial garden."][/caption]

My Aunt Linda, another person who has jumped in and smothered me with mother love.  Before Ellie passed she wrote me an e-mail proclaiming she would do ANYTHING  I needed, including jump on an airplane to give me a hug.  I totally believed her and it gave me immense comfort knowing she was with me.  If that wasn't enough, she created a gorgeously beautiful (Ellie would've combined those somehow) memorial garden with all of Ellie's favorite colors.  She and Betsy C. worked tirelessly on it for hours in the hot sun.  It was an awesome display of female power.

Cynthia who knows how to listen so well and get the underlying message of what her 5-year-old says.

Lainie who inspired me by traveling across the country with her 3 and 5 year old in tow.  Who whenever I'd ask if she could take Ben while Ellie was in the hospital would say, "What's another one?"

linZ and her ability to make motherhood AND lawschool look easy.  Wow (that is mom upside down)!

My Aunt Suzanne who gives the best, most original, most thoughtful gifts.

Esther who taught me selflessness (again and again).  At one point she convinced her children and her sister to collect ALL of their crayons to deliver them to Ellie when we were having a crayon shortage at the hospital.  She also worked long and hard to create arm warmers out of Ellie's socks for the after party.  Thanking ME for inspiring her to utilize her sewing machine again.  And of course her willingness to be called "Jennifer" or Estifer" by Ben.

My wicked stepmother (as she calls herself) for creatively rising up to the challenge of wacky hats and cozy sweaters and socks.

Jennifer W who finds the gift in being laid off, every single day she gets to be home with her newborn.

Karly who somehow finds a way to balance a ferocious love for her daughter and a laid back attitude.

Finally, Jennifer McKeag, and her superb, wry sense of humor.  She has sent me numerous e-mails throughout the past few years.  Following is part of an e-mail in response to one of my recent blogs.

[caption id="attachment_3847" align="alignleft" width="200" caption="Lotta joy!!"][/caption]

"Another good lesson from your blog is one I learned from Betsy C. when Rachel was a new born baby.  I was telling her that I wanted to be perfect and selfless and better than my own self and she asked me if that was the kind of person I expected Rachel to be.  She pointed out that one of my big jobs was to be a role model for Rachel.  I tried on the idea that I should be the kind of mother that I hoped Rachel would be one day.  Did I want Rachel to push herself to be perfect and selfless and better than her own self or did I want Rachel to embrace her whole personality - flaws included - and to try her hardest without expecting herself to be someone she was not?  Hum.  Maybe.  Some days more than other days.  Some days less.  But, something to look at.

Rachel and Kate have really different moms.  Rachel was a surprise and I was 25 years old and I was so overwhelmed by motherhood.  Kate came to us in a totally different way and I was 32 years old and had so much more clarity.  I wonder what stories they'll remember when they are grown women sitting together talking about their childhoods.  I imagine they will each think the other grew up in a home totally different from their own.

Ellie, Ben, and Lotta will also each have had such different experiences.  I bet that will let them learn a lot from one another."

In appreciation to all the moms in my life today.  Thank you.

Eeyorish

[caption id="attachment_3815" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Little hat girl--that is Ellie."][/caption]

For the past 2 weeks, since our magical, marvelous trip to Pranee, I have been feeling the let down.  Once again becoming friends with the silence.  As Ellie would say, Eeyorish.  Meaning sad and gloomy, like our friend from Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore. 

When I caught a cold/flu this week, it was almost a relief just to be able to lie in bed and read and rest for a couple of days with Lotta without it being perceived as depression.  When I feel sickly, I always feel badly about all the times Ellie did not feel well.  And even worse  about the times I pushed Ellie to do things outside of her room, not knowing when she actually felt well enough to leave.     

As I was walking to the busstop today, I was feeling melancholy.  The wistfulness had returned.  That constant niggling feeling, the craving to see, feel, touch Ellie that leaves me feeling weary and worn had taken me over.  I was quietly crying as I was walking.  Suddenly I felt a drop of moisture on the OUTSIDE of my sunglasses.  (You gotta have sunglasses on if you

[caption id="attachment_3816" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Happy hats."][/caption]

dare to sob on the way to the busstop, even if it is somewhat cloudy out.  I mean come ON.)  At first, I thought somehow my tears had transferred to the wrong side.  Then I realized it was raining.  I felt 3 drops, that was it.  It felt as if it were only raining on ME.  Like a little black raincloud over our friend Eeyore.  Made me smile through the rainshower, both internal and

external.