Jessica's Blog

My mom (step-mom) sent me this and I was really moved by it. Now, before y'all get comment snarky or politi-freaky on me.. I want to be clear.  I have great respect for candidates running.  I am not putting this up as a "nya nya nya boo-boo" or an invite to rip into my thoughts with ill will.  Let's agree to disagree and discuss, for that is how we learn from one another and rise above this sh&*-hole we're in now.

As I don't think many will disagree about the sh*%hole statement.

My fav line:

"we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story" It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballots; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.

Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.

Yes we can heal this nation.

Yes we can repair this world.

Yes we can.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics...they will only grow louder and more dissonant ........... We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Now the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea --

Yes. We. Can.

My friend Amanda wondered aloud years ago what our breast pumps said to us.  The mechanical sound pulses and hums and some women hear words in that noise.  A milking chant.  More milk, more milk.  pump... pump.....  Pumpingin is both a help as well as a major pain the ass to do.  I mean, who enjoys sitting with cones over ones nipples being sucked dry?... not at all unlike the milking machines you see cows hooked up to at the county fair?

My pump simply says quaack *ick* quaack *ick* quaaack *ick*.....

We have a good relationship, my pump and I.  A far better one than I had before.  This new pump does that fancy thing of stuttering at first to get the milk to drop sooner, thus shortening pumping time.  It gets the job done.

quaaack *ick* quaaack *ick* quaaack *ick*

There's a game I'm playing right now with my pumping schedule.  In this interim time of Little lady getting into the groove of hanging with Katy, I am getting used to pumping on a schedule.  The game is making sure I'm pumping enough to keep up the supply.  Two days this week and one day last week I forgot to pump, or didn't have the time to pump while I was away from Little lady and my supply immediately reflected it.  The supply went from 8-10 ounces at a session down to 5 or 6.  Thankfully Little lady is a voracious eater when we are together to up the supply again, but this balance is purely something I need to commit to.  God knows she will refuse formula, so I feel a need to keep it up really well for at least another three months. 

Also, when I don't pump, her first feeding when we reunite is pretty intense.  By then, I'm engorged but she's not crazy hungry, so she gets a lot more than she needs and ends up spitting up quite a bit for an hour or so.

quaaack *ick* quaaack *ick*

When I don't pump, I get uncomfortable.  It's kind of like really having to go pee but having no restroom in sight.  There's a white noise in my mind that grows as my breasts fill up and get no relief.

quaaaak *ick* quaaaack *ick*

Then I pump and while it doesn't feel good at all... I feel sooo much better, and I can think again.

quaaack *ick* quaaaack *ick*

There's definitely a reason why those cows return to the barn at night to get hooked up while eating their dinners

quaaack *ick* quaaaack *ick*

Ok.  Done.  On to my next thing!

I *finally* took Honey Girl to her first ballet lesson.

I had Little Lady and Big Boy with me.  I had coached myself into how to keep the sibs NOT taking ballet busy while Honey Girl got her lesson in.  But you know what happened?  Big Boy asked if he could do it too.  He was taken by the big room, the mirrors, and the bars.  I  asked the teacher and she welcomed him with open arms to give it a shot in bare feet and street clothes.

He was amazing.

He Loved it.

Honey Girl had a blast and a half... of course she was doing her own thing much of the time, but the teacher enjoyed her too.

So now I have two dancers in my home.  Who knows how long it will last, but it's quite cool.

Big Boy really impressed me.  To say he was a "natural" seems silly, but wow.  Who knew?  At the bar, he just went into this zen-like state and was so strong and graceful, my jaw dropped.  It was like he grew three inches and all his muscles were rippling.

I of course reported this to the family with much glee.  We're all "very excited".  My mom has already gone out to buy him his black ballet shoes.. and Honey Girl her pink and pink and pink shoes, tights and leo.... and tutu.  Big Boy goes in sweats and a t-shirt.  Lucky boy.

I am getting the benefit of Ballet now.  I'm hoping it helps Honey Girl find her center, her feet, and a sense of discipline.  For Big Boy... wow... he will gain an even greater sense of where his body is in space and become even more agile.  All this can only add to any other athletic endeavor they decides to take on.

I continue to learn to check all of my issues at the door when my kids express a new interest.  I take a deep breath, make the phone calls, walk them in the door... and they amaze me every freakin' time!  I have yet to say no to an interest... although I gotta say.. cheerleading will definitely hit a wall.... ;-)

Little Lady's care provider decided to use cloth diapers at her house to cut down on the huge amount of garbage at the end of the day.  Understandable.  Four babes makes for oodles o' diapers.  For the sake of consistency, I just switched us over to cloth as well.  I gotta say, it's been just peachy.

We had done cloth with Big Boy for a while,. but gave up as he had a way of soaking through any kind of diaper configuration we could muster.  Now I wish I would have been more of a consumer and just switched to jumbo absorbency diapers and gotten some inserts... but anyway... lesson learned.

the good:

Our garbage cans don't knock us over with stench anymore whenever we take them out or in.  We honestly have cut our garbage waste by nearly half it seems.  That will lead us to getting a smaller can, and therefore lower garbage bill.

They deliver them.  One less thing for me to remember... although I do have to set the dirties out.  It's like a different kind of garbage day.  But I don't have to go to the store, or hope to keep stocked up.

There's the whole feeling cool about using cloth thing.  I don't drive a prius,  I don't have solar panels on my house... heck, I also know laundering diapers pollute the heck out of water.. but hey.. gimme a little credit, ok??  The landfill (a la baby blues this week) won't be calling us to cry out "Uncle".

A babe rolling and waddling across the room in a big diaper and cover is just too cute.

They work great.

the not so great:

I learned the hard way the other night to not check a diaper by sticking a finger into the side.  Yeah.... major gack attack... who knew she managed to do THAT on a short car ride.  It was raining, we were allll getting out of the car for Honey Girl's open house.  Older sibs stayed in car while I did a  full change out (diaper and diaper cover change).. and used lots of wipes and sanitizer on myself.

I joke about it, but it's something to consider:  The L.A. face and the Oakland booty.  Cloth diapers are just bulkier.  Period.  So while she may be a 12 month size, she wears 18 month size with pants rolled up a bit.  No slim fit pants will look slimming over her booty bump.  But who doesn't like a big booty on a babe?  No, they don't have any effect on her getting around.  You do fold them, after all.

What I don't mind but other's might hate:

Packing it with you.  You dirty it, you carry it.  I have developed a whole new love for the already adored urban tumbleweed (used shopping bags).  I have them everywhere and use them many times over and over.

Making a diaper an overnight diaper requires adding terry cloth inserts.  We launder our own inserts as they are not part of our diaper service.  So I have another reason to stay on top of the laundry.  Double diapering is really very bulky and looks uncomfortable.  Due to soiled inserts, Little Lady's hamper is plastic and has a lid.

I think we may need to get another couple diaper covers.. same laundry issue.  I don't like carrying bare bottomed baby from top floor to garage to dig in laundry for a clean cover.

While I've gotten used to it and can wrangle much of what any of my kids dishes out, cloth diapering a squiggly babe may be a bit more challenging to some.  Especially when she decides she really would like to hang onto her ankles and curl up for a bit so you can't get to her diaper sides to fasten them.. but this is the same with disposables.

I dropped her snappy clip on the rug and when I went and grabbed it, the other end had hooked onto the carpet, so when I not-so-mindfully yanked it up, it spliced right through my finger and I got a cut.  Not a big deal... and we do have a berber carpet.

So we're happy with it for now, and I am thrilled to hear they do training pant service too.  So all those icky underpants that occur as part of the learning process can be just tossed into the hamper and THEY launder them.  Imagine all the hissy fits I could have avoided.  Again.  Lesson Learned.

muchas gracias Tiny Tots.

I was at costco today picking up supplies and picked up something else too; a vegetable lasagne on whole grain pasta.  Brimming over with broccoli, spinach, peppers.

I'm so sorry, Hubby... I mean,... I know in your mind this isn't even close to lasagne!

That, and last night Big Boy and I concocted dinner by a simple naming of ingredients and throwing them into the mix.  It was delicious and we named it "Big Boy Macaroni".  It was turkey sausage, onions, olive oil, collard greens, black eyed peas, broth and kamut macaroni.  Again... not something most folks would even begin to stretch to call macaroni.. but everyone looooved it. 

nice to know leftovers will get eaten this week.

I feel like utter shit this evening.  Really, truly I do.  I was just a few steps away from making a, "Please talk me down form this cliff." phone call this afternoon.  I was just so done.  So very done.

Why?

I have three small kids and I am beat.  Whopped. Tired. Stick a fork in me.

Why?

the colds.  The never ending coughs and ear infections... the DOG has one now!  So I got zilch sleep all weekend and am running on below empty.  Little Lady is fine now.  Big Boy started coughing when I got him home.  Needy, grumpy, gimme gimme sick kiddos.  Cover your cough..please use a tissue.. please don't cough in my face..... kiddos.

When I am so tired, it really is hard to be a great mom.  It is hard to form a full sentence, much less make it a friendly, empowering, encouraging, positive discipline message.  So I go nearly monosyllabic and grunt and growl.  Then I feel like a total bitch.  I beat myself with the ugly stick for grunting, growling and barking at a five year old or three year old.

But.... why can't Honey Girl just.... chill?????
But... why can't Big Boy just do a task without day dreaming or getting distracted by Honey Girl who can't just.... chill??
WHy can't either of them just do something without needing it to be said fifteen times with a song, dance, and personally written embossed invite? 

Thankfully.... so far... Little Lady is blameless and along for the ride.  Seems as soon as she's to the breast and blissfully going into a milk induced heavenly snooze... her sibs lose their minds, start fighting or doing something so I have to pluck her off and move.  Usually with a not so friendly, soothing, or kind voice. 

Meditation is helping loads, but at the same time, I think it's just allowing me to state more clearly and concisely exactly what is pissing me off without my blood pressure going up.... which frankly has got to be a bit more scary.

time for bed!

I took Little Lady in to see the pediatrician today.  Nothing big.  Just to check on her lungs, cuz last night during our steaming session, she had some wheezing.  Since she's such a little one, I wanted to do my due diligence on the RSV side of things.  Yes, Big Boy had RSV at 6 months, and all I can say is: nothing scares you more than when your baby can't breath.  Little Lady is all clear.  We just have another few days of coughs and boogers, thankfully.

I was unloading Honey Girl and Little Lady from the minivan for a bit.  This takes a bit, as Honey Girl seems to lose her shoes every leg of a trip, and can't find them, can't put them back on etc etc etc.  I was counting my blessings that Big BOy had afters schools sports today as was otherwise busy, so I only needed to wrangle the girls.

As we were recovering from our car exiting ordeal and gathering hands to cross the parking lot, we heard someone calling to us, "Bye Bye!"  "Bye Baby, Bye-Bye!"  I looked around, and a few cars away was an older gentleman in a wheelchair.  He was with a small group; clearly an adult daycare group of people.  His legs were straight and somewhat pigeon-toed in the chair, with shoes that didn't look like they'd ever touched pavement.  He was wearing thick glasses.  He head was tilted to one side.  One of his arms was up high waving while the other was curled by his side.  My limited education told me he had some palsy and other neurological issue.  He had an aide nearby helping someone else into the car.  Clearly, he was waiting his turn.

"Bye-Bye!" he waved and smiled.

Honey Girl gave him her biggest smile and waved back, jumping up and down, "Bye Bye!  BByyyyeeee!! Hee hee heee Bye!" then looks at me, "Momma?  Why's he saying bye and not hello?"

"Maybe he's leaving."  I said thoughtfully with a smile.

Little Lady did a full-body smile, chortle-laugh and coo.  She flirt smiled and shoved her fist into her mouth

The man nearly jumped him his chair and laughed too, "Bye bye, Babies!  God Bless YoooOUUuuu!"

I smiled and waved.

Of course I realized I needed to bring an extra diaper with us to the peds, so we crossed back to the car and did this same bye-bye routine with the man again.  This time his helper wasn't busy with her other charge and looked up so see who he had been yelling at.  She seemed as tickled by the exchange as me, "Oh, he loves to see babies and little ones."  I smiled, "Clearly it's a mutual admiration society."  She thanked me, and I thought that strange until I figured some may have been put off by his demeanor or different-ness.

I dunno, it was such a small thing in my hectic day.  But he made an otherwise possibly dreadful task a lot of fun.  The girls and I were very taken by him.  Honey Girl continued chuckling on our way to the peds office in the medical complex, "He was just like Gramma Margi!  She has a wheelchair too." 

"Not anymore... she's out of her wheelchair now."

I loved that Honey Girl didn't seem to notice anything else different about the man.  I loved that Little Lady did her best to wave too.  It was just a simple little touching moment.

Today we had a hectic morning.  Last night (yes, all hectic mornings start by things that don't get done the day before...) we found some incomplete work in Big Boy's backpack with a note from his teacher. *GROAN*  So Big Boy was at the breakfast table doing some seat work while eating his peanut butter boppers.. or puffins, whatever.  He doesn't like to write sentences.  So with much compassion and as much patience as we could muster while juggling the morning routine, Hubby and I coached him through this process.  Mostly because in knowing our son, we know that if he didn't do it immediately it would grow and grow in his mind and he would just refuse to ever do it because it's too late, too hard etc.  I did find out a nice new engineering-mind Big Boy quirk.  He got derailed at one point because there was no way the whole sentence would fit on one line.  Once I encouraged him to finish the sentence on the next line down... his whole demeanor changed.  I wrote a note to his teacher in response to the one we received.  Yup.. gotta keep those lines open!  That whole parent-educator-repsect-and-support thing.

Honey Girl's response to this added morning stress and mother being otherwise engaged issue was to need someone to talk to.  To need feedback on lots of things, and if said feedback was not available, she would take to chanting.  "I'm ready to go now.  I'm ready to go now.  I'm ready to go now.  Hey!  Mommy!  I'm ready to go now..... mooooommmmmmyyyyy I'm reaaaaady tooo goooooOOOOOoooo nooooowwwwwww."  This of course was syncopated with sniffs and coughs because she's catching a cold Hubby came down with yesterday.  *explicative*  I would thank her for being so prepared and request that she remain as patient as possible so Big Boy could finish his work, Mommy could finish her breakfast, daddy could get back from walking the dog, and Mommy could put Little Lady's things together.  So Honey Girl would return to sulking, puttering, and hanging off my belt loops and saying "I love you, Momma."

I love you too, Honey Girl.  Very much.

I was holding Little Lady and attempting to eat cereal and chug coffee (after one-hand writing note and clipping it to homework folder) without her grabbing the spoon from my mouth and dousing me with soy milk or smacking my mug and pouring hot coffee on me.  Not so much that I would mind the spills, I'm kind of immune to that, but I was not in my usual "mom uniform" today.  Today I was actually wearing pants and a sweater.  So I thought I would make bold attempts at cleanliness, just. for. today.  Ha ha ha.  From time to time Little Lady would vocally protest my attempts to foil her grabbing exercise, then turn to bite me on the shoulder with her five teeth.  You have my attention, Little One.. please oh please unclench your jaw.  ah, yes.  That's much better.  ooof!

Buck the dog(once returned from being drained by Hubby) was keeping a good eye on the biter biscuits in Little Lady's saucer and looking at me over and over with the question mark face, "Can I eat them NOW?!?!  She' s clearly not into them."  No no, Buck.  Little Lady squeals the like at him as well... form the safety of my arms.

We all got packed into our cars and attended Big Boy's Kindergarden assembly.  He was an owl in an adapted storytelling of "The Mitten" by Jan Brett.  Honey Girl sat with the first graders and watched with great intent.  Hubby manned the videocam.  I danced Little Lady around the back and smiled and waved back at Big Boy *tsk tsk*.  He totally forgot his line.  Hid behind his mask.  His teacher had to yell his line to him.  The show moved on.  The class did an encore performance, just for the parents, not the whole school.  The second time through, Big Boy walked across the stage and seemed to want to keep on walking...of the other side.  A classic, "I am not a trained monkey!" statement.  But he did stop.  He remembered his line, and said it loud and clear.  We're proud of you Big Boy.  You made a great owl.  Honey Girl loved it too.  She only got upset when it was over and was chanting, " I want to see it again.  I want to see it again.  Mommy??? Are they going to do it again?"  Little Lady fell quiet from her humming and vocalizing in the carrier during the performance, simply because the implicit wish for silence was gone.  Gotta love it!

I gracefully avoid getting sucked into playground politics of who has the spring birthdays and why not have a combined party for them and then we don't need to buy gifts and that's how that class does it.... ug ug.... buh-bye.... so good to see you!  I smile and wave and off we go!  I've earned the badge "non compliant mother of kid who forgot his lines."

On to take Little Lady to the FCC.  Can't take Honey Girl to school right now because we would interrupt group time and that is a major no-no.  At the FCC  Honey Girl takes a pacifier from another baby and coaches Little Lady to take it and suck on it.  "like 'dis wit-oh way-dee!  Wike 'dis!"  After saying our goodbyes, after talking *yet again* about mouth germs and flu season and babies... I take Honey Girl to school and get her settled in play; after helping her blow her nose and coaching her again about coughing into her sleeve if she needs to cough.

As I drove away from the school my to-do list startling running through my brain.  The rush rush rush.  The do do do.  The sh--stuff that just never gets done.  The house that will never get clean.  The notes that may never get written.  The dishes that are eternal. the Laundry that is eternal.  The ME projects that remain quater-complete.  The e-mails that never get replied to.  The cloth diapers I forgot to set out on the curb.  Calling Grandma about research I just heard about arthritis.  I breath.  I slow down.  When I get home.  I'll do a quick check of e-mail.  Meditate.  THEN I'll attack my to-dos with a much healthier outlook/ energy/ blood pressure.  I try to stop the evil voice inside my head that wonders, "why the hell aren't you getting anything DONE?!?!?"  Gee, I wonder why...

I check my e-mail.
My girlfriend Hillary sent me a great gift.
I cried for a good few minutes.
I feel so much better.
Thank you HIllary, it really does put it all in perspective.  Yes, you may be sleep deprived with beautiful 'lil newborn babe and wonderful 2 year old son.  But it made me misty too.

By the by..... I am certain the word "Mom" can be replaced by "Dad" as well.  At least in my house it can, right Hubby?

Before I was a Mom...
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom...
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on. Chewed on. Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom...
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots. I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom...
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom...
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom...
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Honey Girl wants to do ballet because her newest BFF wants to do ballet.

Mommy (me) would really prefer sticking to my gym, gymnastics, soccer, swimming.... but no.  Honey Girl is adamant that she wants to do BALLET.  Again because her newest and bestest BFF is doing BALLET.

So Mommy (me) tried the rec center ballet route.  Nope.  All filled up because they do a spring recital.  Oh, gee.  So sorry, Honey Girl.. I'll look into other options.

I pull up a place (after procrastinating for a week or so)that would work for us geographically.  I check their schedule.  Then I made the mistake of hitting the "photos" part of their website.

The classes all lined up in costume.
The costumes.
The little bitty girls in tu-tus and in poses.  Notice I'm biting my lip to not say posses.
All that signifies sameness, prettiness, conformity, and mean-girls of my youth.  My protective mommy-heart thuds in my chest.

I am again being given an oppotunity to come face to face with all that is girlie-girl.  Barbies and Princesses have begun to invade my home... (thanks to my sis) like the first scout ants before the hordes.  And now... dance uniforms and tap or ballet shoes?!?!? Tu-tus!?!?!

Oh universe.... help me through this one too.  This doesn't have to end in Honey Girl being in the San Jose Thanksgiving Day Parade doing a tap dance over and over and over to the latest teeny-bopper tune, right?  Or spending a weekend performing in a recital three or four times?  She's not going to come home, look at her cute little preschool belly and ask "DO I look fat?"

Am I going to have to sit in the waiting room of the studio and be sociable with moms who LOOOOOVE this stuff and want to know "where are you vacationing this year?"

So I coo and smile when she wants to do sports.  I would even love a "creative movement" class.  But all this dancing princesses ballet junk *sigh*.

Moms of girlie girls (who were NOT girlie girls themselves! TYVM) please send me guidance on this one.

here's a funny: will she wonder out loud about why her dance shoes look nothing like mommy's dance shoes? ;-)

Tonya sent this to me and sent me into tears of laughter.  Took me watching it a couple times to even "get" the actual message he was hoping to convey.  Kind of like when you see a good commercial and have no clue what the product is?

enjoy, my friends:

I've lost about 40 pounds.  All through my adult life I've been a size 12 and I now am cumfy cozy in a size 6.  People are now coming out of the woodwork and asking the question, "How did you do it?!?!??!"

err..... proper diet.  Yup.  That whole new add campaign by Weight Wachers is dang skippy.  Diets do not work.  Lifestyle changes, support, and maintenance.  No, I've not been hungry, but I've learned a heck of a lot about nutrition and how to eat now that I'm not my twenties anymore. ;-)  Heck, I shouldn't have been eating like I was eating in my twenties!

Proper exercise.  I walk.  I hike when the trails aren't mud. I do weights a bit (at home with little dumb bells). I did not run.  It just didn't feel right and once you've shot your knees once, it's not like ya want to do that again anytime soon.  Then, when I lost the first 15 pounds, I spoiled myself with one on one pilates sessions with a trainer.  Then the weight just flew off.  I thanked Liz today for her help in completely transforming me.  She brushed it of (as she's bound to do) with a simple, "Hey... YOU did all the work!".  But really.... getting a chick like me back to "hot" after three cesareans?  It was no small order.  The workouts just get harder and more varied.  Awesome abs on Jess??  Long lanky and buff Jess??  I get my fix, I get exhausted, I recover, I go back for more.

SO it was no magic scheme.  It was not overnight.  I'm feeling great, was never hungry, and Little Lady has PLENTY of milk.  I've not had any health issues or thyroid issues.  I'm a much healthier person.  So are my poor family with the dinners I cook.  The internal work is and continues to be pretty intense.  Beyond the "how I see food" and "How I manage stress" stuff.  Deeper and deeper stuff about this being for me and loving it.  I am comfortable with this lifestyle.

I didn't think I would lose this much.  I didn't think it would go this well or feel this good.  And yes... a new set of stilettos has been part of the regime as well. :-) bright red hot ones.

I decided to write about this now because I am comfortable in this newly remodeled body I've ben working so hard to get.  I smile when people say "You have kids???" , " You have THREE kids?!?!" or better yet,  "You have an 8 month old baby!?!?"  It took me a while to get here. 

So yeah, Amanda... I'll probably hop into that pole class soon. ;-)  After all, the Santa baby routine was wildy popular.

We spent some good time with Grandma Toni down in the dessert after Christmas.  We stayed through New Year's bid our fond adieu New Year's Day.

I have developed a whole new set of Desert morning rituals since Grandpa died.  My first morning there, I walk to his spot at the Memorial Park to check on the flowers I put there.  The winds can knock them down, but this last batch has held tough for about a year now.  If they fade, I'll get new ones again.  I talk to him a bit.  I still miss him.  I no longer cook bacon... not to my taste.  I no longer share the paper and get involved in long political discussions because Grandma doesn't get the paper anymore.  I no longer get good tar-like black coffee because the coffee maker is long gone and replaced with a pods one.  But I still find myself referring to the house as "the folks' place", then I correct myself to "Grandma's place".

Honey Girl has developed a new name for Grandma.  It's been G-Gma for Great Grandma.  Once Honey Girl understood that G-Gma stood for Great Grandma, she got a little turned around and was looking for her "Best Grandma".  I thought that was too precious.  So Grandma Toni is now interchangeably "G-Gma Toni" or "Best Grandma".

What's so wonderful are all the growing changes we've had to go through that have made us stronger since Grandpa was taken from us.  I can't help but ruminate a bit on the "then we used to" to the "and now we" stuff.  Nothings the same, but it's all beautiful, wonderful, and full of love.

While we are down there now, I cook the dinners.. or procure them elsewhere and return with them.  Grandma doesn't ask me to do it.  She loves it and says she sure as hell doesn't have it in her to do it.  So the food has taken a decidedly NorCal turn from our old Soul Food roots, but we still cook up the good grub and I can love doing it all as Hubby and Grandma are having so much fun playing with the kids.  I can work in there unhindered.  My memories of hearing Grandma singing in the kitchen and Grandpa returning from all over the desert floor with cuts of meat and veggies from the best produce stand are still fresh in my mind, but what we have now is also very special, and the new generation's soul food.  Who knew I would grow up to hold that spot?!?

This trip down I really got a good look at the new life in my Grandma.  You know what?  She's doin' AL-RIGHT!  My heart is at such ease, I can't tell you.  I didn't realize how much I worried until I was shown how good things are going for her.  A weight is lifted.  As friends came to visit her and meet us, I was moved to thank them for being so wonderful to my Grandma.  I made some bread for the neighbors that stayed with her after her knee replacement.  I asked after the woman who helps her keep house, the dear friend of her Buddhist group, how things are going with her chanting group that comes and discusses philosophy every Tuesday when they do their gonyo together.  I even ask about her online friends who visit form across the country.  Grandma took us to her club!  Yes, she joined a country club up the street where she goes to dine a couple times a week. Through that club she goes to the gym, sees a nutritionist, does workouts, and *drumroll* has returned to singing!  One of her friends (who got her to sing again)  had us all over New Year's Eve day and we had a wonderful time.  This friend is from Montreal and yup.. is one of those French Canadians, so she had a great time speaking French with me and the kids.  We wolfed down tortierre and tomales while watching the golfers attempt the 17th hole off her patio.  These are all friends that have been around for ages, and I've known since I was 12, but now that Grandpa's gone, and their husbands are gone... they are out and about tearing up the town.  It is beautiful to see the love and support and laughter they all share.

"Don't you worry about your grandmother, my dear.. I've got my eyes on her all the time" Lise said to me in French while in the kitchen.  Still, I made sure to give her my contact information to reach me if ever she had a concern.

Grandma had a performance while we were with her as well.  We all went, gussied up and all.  The kids loved it!  I loved it and taped it.  She was great and announced to the CROWD at Milly's of Santa Fe in Indian Wells that I had never seen her perform with a band my whole life because she had quit all that business for a long time, but now she's back.. "so let's do this thing!"    And there she was, my Grandma, up there with a six piece band of drums, winds, and piano.  As an aside, Hal Linden was on clarinet.  I was all starstruck to see Grandma up there having such great chemistry with Barney Miller. gafaw.  I just dated myself, I know.... but c'mon!  Barney Miller!  It was right up there with MASH in my house growing up.  Yes, we posted the video on the web, maybe I'll embed it next entry.

I also had a talk with Grandma about where she wants to go, what she wants to do, and all the "what ifs" I need to know to be her advocate down the road when things don't go so swimmingly.  It was a good talk, and we'll have more of those, no doubt, because that woman does change her mind!  I've always been inspired by my Grandma, and she never ceases to amaze me.

In the end, I am amazed and joyful over how well we all are doing.  I know Grandpa's had his hand in it.  I know he's happy for us all as well.

We keep breathing our own air.

I am enjoying my first moment alone in my house in about a month.  My kids have been dropped at school.  Yeah, I have a bajillion things to do and will do them once I.finish.my.freakin.coffee.so.don't.ask.

The phone rings.  Unknown name, unknown number.  I anser thinking it may be a chance for me to rechedule once again my job interviews i had to put on hole due to family issues at the end of December.

Nope. 

It's the California Fire Fighters Association.  Do I want to get my gold level for donation $100 this year or simply silver for $75?  They want to send me the decals and such and thanks ahead of time for your generous support.

Me:  *sigh*  You know.... last year we did give to you.  We also gave to a few other of the organizations that have bought our information from you... to save the Sheriff's children, the Firefighter's widows, the Police's glass eyes.  The Sheriff's training.  The Firefighters widows.  There must have been twenty different organizations that called us all last year.  None of the tax deductible.  All of them "good" causes no doubt.  But you know what?  At the end of the year when we tallied it out.. we gave more to your organizations than we did to our children's clothing and shoes. [yes, a gross eggageration.. but I hadn't even had my coffee!] Now tell me.... is your organization tax deductible?

tele-non-marketer:  Er... no ma'am, it's not.  Sorry to hear that...

Me:  Well, then I'm going to have to catch you on the flip side because I have not discussed with my husband how we intend to handle the numerous calls that will be coming in of this nature this year.  We support you in spirit.  We greatly appreciate our civil servants.  I am an involved volunteer on many fronts.  But honestly, we got fried supporting you financially in the past year.  You have a Happy New Year.

tele-non-marketer:  God Bless You ma'am and you have a nice day.

You can laugh about this is you want to, but honestly.... Who are these people?  How can I research these organizations?  And why oh please tell me WHY are they allowed to call me in the middle of meals and over and over and hassle me for money when no one else is allowed to anymore?

My mom is staying with us for now.  I am glad she is here.  Yes I may growl at her when I hear her cast thumping across the floor (she's not supposed to let it touch the ground, but ech, well...), but I much prefer her here than at her own home. 

She is one tough chick.  She's never broken a bone before.  She is handling being limited beautifully.  Were it me I'd be going nuts... but then again.. I'm sure the vicodin is helping her a bit with that.

We leave the walker at the base of the stairs.  She does backward dip-push-ups while pushing with her good leg to go up the stairs and gently bump-bump-bumps to come down the stairs.  We got a wheelchair, and I took her for a walk today (it was a really beautiful day out) and she really enjoyed being out.  She's napping twice a day and devouring books.

She also is wanting to go home soon.  This afternoon she was saying she'd really be fine in her apartment.  I cringed.  I agreed we'd make a trip up there this weekend for general housekeeping.  Then I gently suggested she imagine a trip to the grocery store, how to get the groceries back up to her apartment, the process of making herself a meal, taking a shower,  doing her laundry (to the laundry room and back up)... all without any assistance.... and she nodded and sighed.

Having a broken leg really sucks.  She's dong a darned good job keeping her spirits up.  I imagine all the grandbaby loving has got something to do with it.

I had to laugh when she meekly cooed from her bed in the office this evening,  "I really want some junk food..."  I mean, imagine all the things that when independent one wouldn't need to admit feeling a need for, right?  I'm killing her with all this whole grain, no sugar, good fat, lean meat stuff.  There was a pint of Ben and Jerry's we unearthed.

She's mending well, and that she got antsy briefly today is great.  She groaned as she rescheduled a haircut she won't get in the city on Friday... her bangs are killing her... and we wondered aloud just what is the next step when the cast is removed?  Will she be allowed to walk on it with stairs, and groceries and laundry and mail and her briefcase?  Will she have it in her to be happily independent?

Writing all of this is weird because, well.... my mom's not OLD!  I mean sure she's officially in her 60's, and she has grey hair, and can be persnickety, and is a grandma, and loves nothing more than going through books, and groans when she gets up, hates driving at night, needs her naps... but she's not old!  Really she's not... right?

and no, it's not adding to much to my overflowing plate to have her here.  I just joke that now I have four kids instead of three... but Thank goodness I can leave one of them at home alone for hours at a time if I need to! ;-)