Firetrucks in the Ocean

I need to tell you that I literally have 2million things to do right now but more than any of that, and procrastination at its best, this needs to get out of my head onto the screen....

It's nothing really. It's just that my son, the Littlest, has a Firetruck bed in his room. His rooms' 'theme' is the ocean, with whales and octopus, fish, and sailboats. While this bothers me a fraction of an inch sometimes, mostly it does not. It struck me as funny today as I was trying to get him down for nap (yes! success!) the oddity of it all. And how we in this house accept as perfectly the norm some of the odd things. I suppose some might think it strange, and some (like my loving sister Minner) can't take it. That's because they have this rare anal gene :) where everything must be just so. I like things just so but in much bigger picture; like broad as the brush will let you get at times. Then others, it must be anally just so. Me=flex and bend and let go after fire rages through me and her=flex and bend a little before during and after fire rages through her. I say this with all the love in my heart you know. It's just how we are.

Around here there are firetrucks in the ocean. It's the motto we apparantly live by. Seat of our pants, firetrucks in the ocean, can't see the forrest for the trees blah blah blah. And on a side note, there might be a bit of dust on the tables, but man we have fun with our boys. We clean up nicely when we have to. ;) Firetrucks in the ocean; I like it.

Peace and Quiet

I need some.

the end.

boys boys boys

We have boys. And boy do we. They are rough and tumble and fast and furious. And they are smart and opinionated and what can you do? Parent. That's what we do. I guess there are books on parenting. And classes. And tips. And advice. I dunno. Follow my heart is what I do. And then sometimes I totally have to question my heart.

I tell you, I know it's a phase and this too shall pass but man, the Littlest gives us a run for our money. I would fall to a zillion pieces without that little boy, no doubt. He as you know is the glue that holds us all together and especially since the loss of Lucas, when he came along, what a gift.

I just grimace, then smile, then grimace again. Then hug.

It's all you can do. Well, there is one more thing you can do.......teach. And keep teaching
the.same.things.over.and.over.and.over.again. THAT is all you can do.

J

You Can't Stop

Who you are. Right? I mean, who you are is who you are. Right? I guess you can modify things about you but how you respond to things and how you work through things, what makes you happy, what makes you angry, those are all things that are intrinsically a part of you. Or am I BS'ing myself? Someone please tell me this. This is not a rhetorical question. I need input.

Seriously people, I am a fairly confident person who knows myself pretty well. Sounds silly to say but lots of people don't even know what they want in life, or what direction to go. I don't have this problem and I like that. It's part of what makes me happy with me. Like myself. I am still kind I think. And nice. And care what others think and feel. Can it be both?

BLAH! I am feeling very very blah. I'm not questioning myself per se', I am questioning what is fair to ask of oneself, or others, about their true core self.

It probably matters not. That is the irony of it all. It probably matters not.

Magnetic Water

The Oldest has a magnet buried inside his arm. It is attracted at all times, fully 100% of the time, to glasses that have liquid in them. No matter whether it's full of water, milk, tea, whathave you-it makes absolutely no difference. I've seen it happen people. It's innocent enough, he means no harm. His face tells the WHOLE story. "I CANNOT believe my arm just knocked that over!" Like the glass reached out and wobbled over to get in the way of his wildly moving arm. Uh yeah. Uh huh.

It's becoming slowly amusing after so many years. Really. It makes me laugh now. I no longer get angry. I actually laugh. What is happening to me people? I am surely LOSING.IT.

fur real.

I'm Not Loving You

When the Littlest is being disciplined, or being sassy, or simply stubborn and ornery I reach out that extra inch and say, "It's ok Littlest, I love you" in some way whatever is appropriate. You know what he's been saying back when he's really mad (which is a lot if he's getting in trouble)? He says this. I'm not loving you. From a two and a half year old. I'm not loving you. So I come back with, "Well that's too bad because I'm loving you." his reply? It's this, "well I'm not, I'm not loving you." But when he calms down I tell him how he can avoid getting in trouble the next time and he will say ok and then tell me "I'm loving you".

I'm telling you, parenting is not easy. It's dang hard. But it's so very worth it. I mean that boy sends me over ten rainbows to look for the patience I was never born with. He is completely entrenched with both feet in this phase of opposite. What I want him to do (big or small) he refuses. Then with the 'I'm not loving you' stuff. Then me back with the 'I'm loving you' no matter what he says. I told him today, "Littlest, you are not going to win. Mamma's gonna win." He did.not.like.that. His reply? "I'm winning!" Phew.

God grant me the wisdom......

Recent Happenings

Living life. Loving life. Quadruple L's. That's our motto lately.

Worth the Chance?

Do you have a lot of friends? How do you view friendship? I mean real, true, friendship. Not just a next door neighbor you chat with on occasion. Not just a PTA buddy you have come to know. Someone you really relate with, someone you can tell anything to...that kind of friendship. Do you think friendship involves heart? Big heart? Understanding, forgivness, letting that person into places of you that you let no others see? All of that? None of that? Are you cavalier with your friends and friendships? Do you normally befriend people who are just like you? Nothing like you? A little like you?

I don't know. I mean, I do know. But I don't. Becoming someone's friend, a true friend, someone I call a "friend" is HUGE to me. It's not something I am flip about at all, not in the very least. I don't have that many. I'm ok with that. More than ok. I like it that way. Sad for me-huh? Right. I know. So maybe sometimes I come off as snooty or stuck up. I'm not. In the least. But I suspect that from time to time, others might think it. Because I'm too busy walking by too fast and pretending I can't see you trying to make eye contact or be friendly. I'm too busy building my wall extra strong so you can't get through. Sad for me-huh? Right. I know. Somehow, it's engrained in me. Don't ask. It's a long story. If I call you my friend, it's forever in my mind. And as long as it took to happen, however long it took me to trust you or learn to allow you in to "me" (cause right now, it's all about me as I'm writing, just bear with me, please just humor me here) if I ever get the vibe that I was wrong to trust or I was wrong to let the person in, I'm done, I'm gone, I'm outta there. Sad for me-huh? Right. I know.

It's not that no one is allowed to make mistakes (good Lord, look at me, I'm full of them, on an almost constant basis) but it's more about me not getting hurt anymore. It's called a very very thick layer of protection. I've had enough, thankyouverymuch, I've had enough hurt for a long time from other things in my life, starting with I suppose, when my parents divorced and my Dad left---learning to deal with that as a little girl and adapting to change even that young. I'm not great at much, and adapting to change is still one I struggle with, I have overcome it, I do it, but I feel it for a moment before moving on. I'm a gracious person, but just one that knows when to cut and run. Even if it's only in my mind. I can cut and run and still be looking the person straight in the face. Sad for me-huh? Right. I know.

I have this friend. It is not easy. She is gold. I'm sure I make it very hard on her end too. I'm sure lots of times she has probably wanted to simply be done and walk away. I am figuring out it takes work. --And not to mention, we are in some ways very alike (both direct and yearn for control in most if not all situations), and in some ways very different. Hey, this is probably not an unusual thing for friends (or even husbands/wives) so what's the point? I am not really sure what the point is. I've been mullilng and tossing and turning every single point of our last conversations over and over and over in my mind and as usual she shows me things even when she is not aware. Reveals things about myself and who I am, and what is to come in my life. She probably doesn't even know it.

If you think after reading any of the above that I am a selfish and a sad person, one who is a hermitty poor soul who won't allow herself the gifts of humanity or friendship with ease, one who isn't living life to its full potential, well then you'll be proud to know that I'm not done here. I'm not done with her or our friendship, I do think it's worth the chance and the risk of getting hurt and I'm not giving up. I only hope she thinks the same. I guess only time will tell.

.....j

NBB; just for kids....

Have your kids heard of the Naked Brothers Band? The Oldest loves them. He listens to the CD and there are some silly songs but it's these two brothers singing and playing the music and it's all real to them, they aren't like Mickey Mouse Clubhouse silly they are songs written by boys, sung for boys and it's kind of silly. Like one song is "Bannana Smoothie" and the words go like this:

cut up the bannana put it in the blender and shake it all up, shake it all up

you got a bannana smoothie---bannana smooooootheeeyyyy

silliness. grows on you. he loves it. all that matters. they even have a show on nickolodeon. he isn't allowed to watch too terribly much on that channel but I've watched it with him, very very badly done if you ask me, like a play on a tv show and some of it is a tiny bit edgy but ok and very silly. very kiddish. cute to hear him and the Littlest sing the songs.

j

Happy Things

Things that make me happy-in no particular order:

1. music

2. sunny days

3. reading a book in the quiet

4. laughing uncontrollably

5. shopping with a friend with no time contstraints :)

6. my boys

7. a clean house

8. music

9. writing

10. NOT football

11. watching CNN

12. music

13. conquerring things I thought I never could

14. completing a project that has been lingering far too long

15. a quiet house

That's all. Some are simple things. Most are simple things. My boys should be on top of list but as I said it was in no paricular order. Phew. All done for the day. I'm truly procrastinating on several things that need to be done. So why don't I go finish one or two of them so I can be happy?

Great idea.

J

Ridge Racer

One thing the boys DO play calmly with each other is Ridge Racer. Well, actually, the Oldest plays and the Littlest watches. But they don't fight. They play nicely, talk to each other, no taunting, no arguing, no screaming.

Go figure.

Maybe they'll be race car drivers. Ya think? I.would.not.be.surprised.

Jenn

Wayne Brady

Saw his show with my honey last night. Took him as a surprise. He was playing (or doing his show) at a local Art Center; like a playhouse or modern day theater type thing. Let me say unequivicably (sp) that if.you.ever.get.the.chance. to see Wayne Brady, in Vegas or anywhere else for that matter, don't bat an eye. Totally worth it to go, money very well spent. I completely got my intestines realigned last night. He is a genius and so talented. He's hilarious, does incredible improv, that is the entire basis of his show. You aren't sure what you're in for when you go but he got a major standing ovation when the show was over and everyone wanted more. He has a great guy he tag teams with on the stage and they are very funny together.

So this might be the start of a tradition. I took my husband to the Ferguson Art Center last year to see David Copperfield, magician. This year, Wayne Brady. Who will it be next year? He told me I bring spice to our relationship. Now THAT's what I'm talking about people. Phew. Finally. He notices. ;)

J

Straightening It Out

I don't want you to think I'm totally stuck in my grief. I'm not. Just that certain things bring it more to the forefront. Then I write. It's like a knee jerk reaction. It's soothing.

It does look like a baby chick. And from heart break comes new life, new love, and more beginnings. In millions of ways. I see that, I get it, I do know it. It's metaphorical. Actually, lots of things in my life are metaphorical; mainly I look for that stuff now, ways to bring meaning to things that boggle my mind.

With the Littlest and has come all of those things above and more. And watching the Oldest grow, that too has sprung tons of new feelings that sometimes even intensely wash away the other stuff. When I write about Lucas, I am not saying I can't see my boys here. I see them and I love them more strongly than I could ever express. But when I'm writing about any grief I might be feeling at that moment in time, I'm channeling and venting. Please tell me someone, please tell me this is natural. If how I express my broken heart from having lost a son is irregular or repeititive I don't know how to change that. I don't know how to take it away or make it better. Or less so than it is.

I love them all. Every one of them. I just happen to really miss the one that is not here.

j

Like a Wisp of Air...

So. Lucas. I'm here now. I'm right smack dab in the middle of it. Sorry.



He was here and then ten months later, gone, like a wisp of air, just gone. I cannot even tell you, really the words will never be right, for how that has broken my heart into countless pieces. Maybe some of you have watched as little piece by little piece have been fitted back into place. Cracks all over the place and wet tear stains everywhere, my heart is filling in again.

I see so many others struggle in this life and some I have gotten to watch some slowly come to a better place and it's been cool to see. For me, I see my healing not continual when it's happening, but always later, only able to look backwards. I cry a lot alone still. Some things just bring the tears instantly and I have grown to hate my hot tears spilling down my face. I have also come to realize that I can't stop them. They are there, directly tied to my cracked but filling in heart and when my heart winces or shrinks back in fear because of a memory, they come tumbling out. Sometimes I have warning with my tightening throat and sometimes there is no warning at all. My memories of Lucas are insanely random. Something might spark a memory of me sitting by his bedside trying to get him to take his pacy as a sign of wanting to wake back up again and that memory is so painful. I hinged so much on trying to get him to do a simple thing like show me a sign of wanting life again, awake, alert life. The smallest movement in his mouth was astronomically huge to me. Looking back, it probably meant nothing. At the time it meant everything. The doctors could be cruel. Back then, I thought they were so cruel. Looking back, they were trying to prepare us for the reality that was to come. Our ten month old son was dying. Yes, all that brings tears. Will that ever stop? Not sure. But like a wisp of air he was here and gone and now his memory remains. The pictures on the walls are still here, fewer in number but still here. And now I look at them with vague recollection and at the same time intense, hard driven emotions about how everything happened. Get over it? Yes and no. There are still lots of strings to be tied up and straightened out....and I think the cracks in my heart will be there always but maybe they'll get smaller and smaller. I don't kid myself in thinking there won't be a hole left at the end of it all. There will. But at the end of it all, when that hole is still glaring me in the face, he'll be that much closer to me.

The air we breathe is the air we need. So even in a figurative way he was the air I needed. My life has become all wrapped up in living it differently; I have changed quite a bit and you know what? That is ok. It just is.

Jenn

Pacy-Less

Well. Just tonight, I cut the pacy down some more. It's not quite a nub but it was getting shorter and shorter. The Littlest doesn't seem to care about that part anymore, he obviously does not put it in his mouth, that's impossible. Ever since I cut it, (I'm sure you all remember this) he only holds it in his tiny little hands, like a comfort.

He just got jammified and he was asking me about Harold the Helicopter and I decided we had a couple minutes, we could try to find the Helicopter (part of the Thomas the Train group). Off we went, and I remember seeing his pacy in his fist as he ran down the hall. At least I think I remember that. That is the last I saw it. It seems to have gotten lost (really!) and we cannot find that thing anywhere. Good grief, I have torn apart the small toy basket in the play room, in the Oldest's room and looked high and low.

.....Finishing this from last night. The night was ok but lots of up and down. Lots of, "do you know where the pacy is?" and "I want my pacy". Phew. ---Found it in his toybox tonight after his bath. If that was a taste of truly losing it, I want no part of it. Why can't I just be done? I suppose because he's only two. I feel I've devastated him enough. It'll happen when it happens. When we are "pacy-less", then we'll be pacy-less.

The end.