Perfectly Messy

What's perfect about my messy house is the story the mess tells of what an amazing life we live.  The mess tells the story of what a fun day Lotta and Ben had.  The Legos on the floor left from Ben's latest invention.  All the items strewn across the bathroom floor from Lotta's explores while I was showering. The pans left on the stove (fortunately they are clean) tell the story of how we had a delicious dinner last night, we went to bed satisfied.  The bright pink baby doll stroller in the yard tells of how Lotta drags it everyday up and down the block, hoping that her friend, Baby Louie from across the street will notice her and come out to play.  The papers piled on the counter are a reminder of all the amazing activities we are involved in--from Ben's school to Make-A-Wish to a superb gift from my brother, Kip, from the Middle East (thanks btw!)  The incredibly messy room, previously our office space, soon to become our art studio, tells the story of all the funtastic times we have had over the past two years. It remains messy and saves me the heart wrenching task of unearthing Ellie finds--school papers, the one and only painting she was forced to do at school, her hats, who knows what else.  This messy room has patiently held all of these secrets for me, waiting for me to be ready to transform the space.  Maybe I could start looking at a messy house as a sign that this was a day well spent, rather than as a sign that I have failed. 

Looking for the Perfect

 

[caption id="attachment_4685" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="Ben and Lotta snuggle at the end of the slide. Perfection."][/caption]

In a recent article by Martha Beck (a life coach who often writes in Oprah Magazine), she described how she was running a training of coaches.  The conclusion of the training was to be an adventure involving horses.  Right as they arrived at the horse stables, the sky dumped a torrent of rain.  Martha asked each participant what was perfect about the situation.

I have been practicing looking for the perfect in each situation (when I am not too crazy to recall this wonderful tidbit).  Whenever I find myself becoming disappointed, frustrated, angry, if I am able, I stop and ponder what is perfect.  It totally forces me to re-focus my attention, to look for what I like rather than what I don't.  For example, this morning, Lotta and I were meeting our favorite PICU nurse, Katie and her baby, Cash at the zoo.  Somehow we just could not find one another.  I found myself begining to panic a little bit, knowing that our window at the zoo with 2 little people who will need naps soon was small.  Then, I just decided to relax and enjoy the weather (it is a perfect day today).   When we kept missing eachother, I even texted her a photo of Lotta and I to show her what we looked like.  I thought afterwards how fantastic it was to not go into full panic mode, to just relax and see whatever animals we happened to see.  Even though we did not get to visit with Katie and Cash as long as we had anticipated, we had a lovely visit the time we did have together.  Hope this doesn't sound trite or overused ("when life hands you lemons make lemonade!!")  Just wanted to share how helpful this has been in the hopes that it might be helpful to some of you too.

 

Thoughts on Mother's Day....(the 13th btw)

[caption id="attachment_4672" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="First attempt at annual Mother's Day family photo..."][/caption]

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."  Elizabeth Stone

Sometimes I feel jealous of the younger me.  Not for the reasons you might think--youthful beauty, innocence, coolness (Thom would wonder, "Were you ever really cool?).  The other day I was sitting in the green room looking at the photos on the wall.  One of them was taken a few days after Ellie passed.  I am wearing a pink hat given to us by a hospice nurse that says, "jilled", snuggling up to Lotta.  As I looked at the photo it amazed me that I even took a photo so soon after Ellie passed.  Then I had that old yearning.  In that photo it had been mere DAYS since I had seen, felt, touched, smelled Ellie, whereas now it has been almost a year and a half.  How I yearned to be that younger me, the one who had so recently been in Ellie's physical presence.

[caption id="attachment_4674" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Angel watching."][/caption]

Recently, I drove past the funeral home that cremated Ellie, as I often do.  As I passed it I suddenly was struck, it felt as if I was literally punched in the stomach with the feeling I had the day the funeral home took Ellie's body.  The moment they carried her body down the stairs, I wanted to race at them, demanding that they NOT take my daughter.  At the same time, I absolutely knew how irrational the whole thought process was.  That desperate feeling engulfed me, making for quite dangerous driving conditions, as you can well imagine. Time continues to move at an odd pace.  At times it seems so long long ago when Ellie was with us and then it flips suddenly seeming so recent.

This last week, Lotta caught a cold.  Saturday was the worst of it, she was lethargic and couldn't keep anything down and started breathing in a wheezy way.  Growing up experiencing asthma I have an extremely low tolerance for hearing my children struggling to breathe.  Lotta progressively got worse throughout the day.  By 3am, as she lay shaking the bed in her attempts to pull in oxygen, I decided it was time to go to the ER.  What a wange (weird strange) time to go to the ER.  First of all because it is 3am, which to my way of living, is not a typical hour I am driving around town.  Second, it was wange to go to Ellie's hospital.  Somehow I felt as if I might encounter Ellie there.  I mean really all the experience's we had there, they should just rename the whole place.  Sheesh.  One of the first things our ER nurse said to Lotta as he put on her respiratory monitor was, "You're not in trouble".  Which, as you may or may not know, was one of Ellie's favorite things to reassure others.  Thirdly, Lotta is the exact age Ellie was when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  Everything but everything was so incredibly frightening to sweet Lotta (and sweet Ellie or "Swellie" as she would probably say).  Even putting the ID bracelet on, listening to her breathe, looking in her ears, were extremely upsetting.  All of it was terrifying.  It also amazed me how, particularly in the ER, where everything is URGENT, I can be talked into things like rectal thermometers, chest x-rays, which in the light of day seem CRAZY. As we were going through it, I had a moment of worry that this was going to scar Lotta emotionally.  Then, as we were leaving, Lotta was walking around, making friends with one of the nurses (just like her sister would have!)  Not a trace of what had happened left on her, except for of course that she was now breathing easier.  They are so resilient at this age.  AND I am greatful that we somehow survived Ellie's hospital experiences and that Lotta and Ben are getting to experience something different.

Sink or Swim

[caption id="attachment_4654" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben plunges into the water at the front of the Memphis Zoo. Lotta, of course, follows."][/caption]

Thom has been helping out with swimming in Ben's class gym class every Wednesday.  This last Wednesday, as we were walking home from the bus stop, Ben excitedly described how Thom held him in the water while he was floating on his back.  Then, Thom would let go and allow Ben to float on his own for a moment.  At the end of the story, Ben exclaimed enthusiastically, "I only drowned twice!"

Magical Paducah

[caption id="attachment_4638" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben having his morning cup of joe in the car."][/caption]

Our plan was to drive halfway from Pranee to Madison on Easter Sunday.  It is about an 11 hour drive, so breaking up the trip seemed the most humane thing to do, particularly for 19-month-old Lotta.  Because Pranee is way way way out in the country the first part of our trip is lots of windy, hilly, picturesque roads.  Beautiful and scenic, yes, but they certainly don't get you anywhere fast.  For sure.  We decided to stop for dinner in Paducah, KY around 5pm.  We had not booked a room at a hotel because Thom suggested we wait to see how far we could go.  Not my usual way of doing things, but I agreed because I know on long car trips, with small children, things can change suddenly.

Before stopping for dinner, Ben proclaimed that he wanted pancakes OR hot dogs for dinner.  The diner I'd researched to eat at was closed so we decided

[caption id="attachment_4643" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Lotta played with the phone for awhile..."][/caption]

on a Bob Evan's instead.  Ben ordered and consumed a plate of silver dollar pancakes.  He was pretty psyched there were 5 on his plate.  I was feeling mighty tired and a bit weary, wondering how we were going to drive another 2 hours, get checked in, swim, and still get the kids to bed at a decent time (Ben no longer sleeps in, so when he goes to bed late, he merely loses sleep which oftentimes leads to losing his sense of humor.  Nobody wants that!)  As we piled  back into the car after our meal, Thom turned the ignition and all the red lights went off and the car started beeping.  Oh boy, not a good sign.  He turned the car off and tried again, just to make sure that was really really what the car wanted to say.  Yep.

Right next door to the Bob Evan's just happened to be a Drury Inn.  The kids and I went over to investigate while Thom poked around the car.  When I asked about a room, the friendly front desk person said they were just

[caption id="attachment_4642" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Lotta requests no more photos. Please. Enough."][/caption]

finishing up a food buffet that was included with the room.  Since Lotta had not eaten much at Bob next door, thought this would work out well for her.  Turned out it worked out even better for Ben because on the food buffet were, hot dogs, "just like they serve at school!" (That's a good thing in Ben's mind.)  They even had Lotta's favorite food right now--popcorn.  Afterwards we went swimming (yes on a very full stomach) in an indoor pool with only one other family present.   When we were all cleaned up and ready for bed, I flipped through the stations and found the documentary, Being Elmo (a documentary about Kevin Clash the man who does Elmo on Sesame Street), which I have wanted to see since I first heard about it maybe a year ago, being televised.    Inspirational!

Meanwhile, Thom had researched car dealerships and auto shops to discover where to take the car in the morning.  Much to his amazement, there was a Toyota dealership/repair shop a half block away from the hotel.

In the morning while the kids and I ate and ate and ate at the breakfast buffet (Ben uses these buffets to try a sampling of everything), Thom drove the car to the dealership and walked back to join us.  In a little over an hour, the car was fixed (it was a pine needle stuck in the air filter) and by 10am we were back on the road.

I was concerned about Lotta's ability to stay in the car for the 7 hours left of our trip.  However, any time Lotta started to get upset, I would turn around and say, "Lotta a TRUCK!!"  or "a COW!!"  or whatever we might be in the process of passing.  She, not wanting to be left out of the excitement would respond with, "WOW!"  We made frequent stops to make it all bearable for everyone.  I had a hankering for pizza for dinner and as we pulled off the exit in Rockford, we drove straight into the parking lot of a conference center.  The first restuarant we came across was a bar type place which was nearly empty.  While my brother, Kip, takes this as a sign that the restaurant is no good, I take it as a possible "find" that no one else knows about.  Our pizzas were fantastic and the kids were able to walk around the restaurant and even the hotel without disturbing anyone.  Just the perfect ending to the perfect trip.

 

Relishing

Last year, I read Carol Burnett's latest book, This Time Together: Laughter and Reflection (2011).  At the beginning of the book she talks about how she and her Grandma (who raised her) enjoyed going to the movies when she was growing up.  Even when they could barely scrounge up money for other items, they always found a way to go to the movies.  When she was maybe 7, she went to see a movie with Jimmy Stewart.  As soon as he came on the screen, she held her breath.  She was mesmerized by him.  Could not take her eyes off of him.  When they left the theatre, she told her Nana that she and Jimmy were friends, it just hadn't happened yet.  Later, she and Jimmy did become good friends.

To have that kind of knowing, that kind of vision.  That is where I am aim to be.  When you are totally and completely lined up with your dream for your life.  Nothing could be better.  Ben is so good at this.  Right now, Ben is superbly exuberant about two topics --Legos and pets.  As you may or may not know, Ben received a Beta (a really colorful fish) for his birthday.  Now he wants to get a bird.  For a few days this week he was super excited about some of the Lego sets in his Lego magazine.  After school, he pored over the catalogue, discussing what he would do with each set.  From these discussions he has found new ways to play with the magnificent sets he already has.  What I love about his desires is how pure they are.  He doesn't think, "Oh I love this set, and I can't have it because it costs too much..."  He is not caught in the how it will happen, just the knowing that it will.  When we do the gratitude journal, he will say, "I am greatful for my new Lego set."  He has absolutely no doubt in his mind that his Lego set or pet or whatever he is excited about is on its way.  He relishes the excitement and anticipation of the fun that is on the way, rather than bemoaning that it is not here yet.  For him, the journey is almost, not quite, but almost, more fun than the end result.

 

It's All About Interpretation

[caption id="attachment_4633" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="By the big waterfall with my fantabulous nieces, Bella and Sophia."][/caption]

While on our trip in Tennessee, my lovely, talented, brilliant niece, Bella, guided me up the side of the waterfall.  We walked through a gorgeous creek, surrounded by trees, winding its way around to not one, but two heart- shaped pools.  (And to make things interesting we made sure to touch as few bugs as we could along the way.)  As we walked, I looked down and spotted a white heart-shaped leaf.  I picked it up, feeling as if it was a message from Ellie.  Bella said it reminded her of angel's wings.

While we were exploring, Susan. being Super Sister and all, began to wonder if we were ok.  Susan inquired of Dariush how long we had been exploring.  Four-year-old Dariush patiently explained that he has in fact not learned to tell time at this point in his education, something he plans on learning soon-ish, however it seemed to him as if we had been gone a "long minute".  Susan decided to ascend the fall and

[caption id="attachment_4632" align="alignright" width="225" caption="On top of the waterfall. I made it!!"][/caption]

make sure a rescue was not needed.

When they found us, Dariush suddenly told Susan he needed to go.  Like RIGHT THEN doing a pee-pee dance gotta go.  Susan recomended he utilize nature as his bathroom.  Before we could do anything else, Dariush, said, "But it feels strange."  Susan said, "Oh, well, I thought you would actually pull your pants down to go."  I just imagine when Susan said he could go, Dariush suddenly thought, for some inexplicable reason, he had a diaper on, so away he went.  Boy was he surprised when that was not the case.  It also made me think of how often we think we are saying one thing and the person we are communicating with is hearing something completely different.

When I returned to the Big Red Barn (where we eat and sleep and bathe and hang at Pranee), I produced the white heart/angel winged shaped leaf to show everyone.  I laid it on the table.  Lotta picked it up and crumpled it and threw it on the floor, as if to say, "What's this trash doing on the table?"  Funny.  Again, felt like what I was explaining and what Lotta was hearing were 2 entirely different things.