Or a giant snow storm coming on the day you are planning to reunite with your sister.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the snow, and I am totally enjoying this reentry back into a climate with winter, but after soooooooo much anxiety and anticipation and did I mention anxiety???, it kind of sucks to have a snow day cancel such huge plans. We are aiming to get together next weekend. Another week of angst.

Today Mother had a doctor’s appointment with the doc that will be her new primary care physician. (good appointment, great doctor) Bonus was that W and I got to drive in with her and meet friends for lunch. Do you realize how cool it is to just call someone up and say, “wanna do lunch??”

One of the things that was so hard about care-giving for GM was how much of a shut in it made me. There were a few years where I could safely leave her alone and recharge my extroverted batteries, but once we moved to Florida that era was certainly over. And eventually I became this weird hybrid of an forced introvert with longings of social activity. And then I kind of forgot how to be social. And it was common that after a rare dinner with friends I would spend the drive home convinced I had said something stupid or inappropriate or talked too much or not enough…

Today was just easy and nice and simple and I probably said many stupid things but I was ok.

Around this time last year we had to get GM into a nursing facility for around the clock care. I’m having one of those, “holy fuck! What a year!!!!” moments.

And I am just a bit weepy missing my Grandmother and that special and beautiful relationship that we were able to have. A year ago I had no idea what motherhood would feel like, but I had learned, through being GM’s advocate, how to fight. And I think about all of the battles I have had to fight for W and I know that I learned many of the coping skills because of GM.

Oh man I could so easily slide into the deep, deep sad right now and I am yanking myself back. You hear me, sad, I am YANKING back.

Let’s talk about the snow. We could be getting a lot. As in the weather people up here are going bananas and using phrases like, “We are NOT kidding around here!!” I went to the grocery store this afternoon and it was like speed round on Supermarket Sweep (oh man did I love that show)- people were zooming around and ramming into aisles and yelling at their shopping buddies ridiculous things like, ” Get ham!!!!!!! We need HAM!!!!”

My snow weekend necessities: dog food, cat food, toilet paper, formula, frozen pizza, bbq chips

And this guy:

(SCROLL DOWN FOR THE QUESTION)

Like I said, the holidays can be hard for us in many different ways. I am really only just now starting to feel some major sadness over GM not being here for my birthday and Christmas. Since before I was born my Grandmother would host these sometimes outrageously huge holiday meals on Christmas Eve. She would invite friends and family and strangers and everyone would feel loved and special and most of all stuffed with yummy food.

And then I had the audacity to be born on Christmas Eve.

You would think that holiday plans would shift so that I could have a special day, but I came to accept that my birthday, in the eyes of my Grandmother, only lasted a few hours. I was allowed to be doted and celebrated upon from the time I woke up to an early lunch hour. This was sometimes extended if GM could get someone to take me out of the house for lunch so that she could move forward with her massive list of things to do before the highlight of the day: dinner.

And of course I used this tiny window of a birthday to strictly enforce such rules as NO holiday paper on birthday gifts and no mentioning (within my earshot) of Christmas until after lunch. When I got older I started coming up with other stupid rules like no connected gifts. Meaning don’t give me a Wilson Phillips cd on my birthday and then wink and say I might have something cool to play it on the next day.

The last several birthdays have been shitty for me thanks to Alzheimer’s. But this year it is really hitting me how lost I am in how to celebrate. This is probably why when Marta extended an invitation to our family to join her family for Christmas Eve dinner I nearly gave myself whiplash by accepting so fast. Having a dinner to look forward to will be therapeutic on many levels. And part of me thinks that GM will get a kick out of me, once again, ceding the day. But somehow that just seems right. I don’t know any other way.

In the next couple of days I am going to be attempting some distracting blog posts to help anyone that needs it. Think of it as a daily meme with only one question. And if the question yields to a blog post of your very own then rock on. If you have a question you want posed to the internets feel free to e-mail me and I will try to keep the blah la la la la going.

FIRST QUESTION:

Do you like your hair?  Do other people like your hair? Discuss…

(And before I dive in and get all blogitty blog, does anyone know what movie I would attribute “frosty beverage” to? Hint- it is NOT a John Hughes film, but a lower eschelon wannabe.)

So a dear internet friend of mine recently wrote one of those posts that sticks to your ribs and then becomes something that you think about all day, every day. Most of what I want to say today feels like it wouldn’t have come to the surface if it wasn’t for this post. (it’s a flip side of infertility post, so if you are in a bad place save it and come back to it. In fact I should say that this will also be a from the flip side post but everything I write is these days…)

And oh as I sit here I am suffering with some total smack you upside the uterus cramps. The kind of cramps that make you forget to eat all day but then suddenly force you to do something brilliant like dip a french fry in a chocolate frosty. Why isn’t there a frosty/french fry pill for these very days??

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am stupid emotional today. Like all over the place and zinging around from my heart to my head and probably losing some coherency along the way. You are kind if you continue reading…

So Christmas is usually a fucking brutal holiday season for me. At least the countdown to it. It is always stressful and tense and involves scheduling and planning and people pleasing and trying to make my round family fit into a square hole. And when there was no baby to fill the baby shaped place in my soul it made me feel the worst kind of incomplete. I know I don’t have to explain that to most of you, but it is sort of like walking around with open flesh wounds and having no one notice that you are hurt.

This year, holy fucking shit, I have a baby. I have a baby that rides around in the back of the car as holiday songs pipe through the radio. And about 80% of the songs are of the “a child is born” theme. There is no cry quite like the, “Everyone was waiting for the baby Jesus and then he finally came and then the world was all awesome and I was waiting for my child and he finally came and now so much of much of my life is awesome. ” waaaaaaaaaaah.

[please note that I do not think my son is the 2nd coming. It would be cool, however, if he grew up to be a carpenter. Or, you know, the water to wine trick would be nice...]

The really crazy complicated thing is that God and I broke up a few years ago. It was mostly amicable. Very much a, “it’s me, not you” moment. I was once one of those very wrapped up in her faith people. And while I did not think that having faith meant that you win the mega bucks lotto, I guess I did kind of get offended that so much shit was crapping on me and my family. And while I can’t say for certain that it was God or Jesus or the Universe, I needed to blame and taking off my turquoise cross from around my neck for a few years was a place to start.

[it was also freaky to associate with a religion that seemed to want to disassociate itself from people that I love.]

Cut to many months ago. Specifically when GM was declining. Suddenly I NEEDED to come back to a sort of faith because I NEEDED to believe that when she died that she would be at peace and that she would be reunited with my Grandfather. And I started watching the John Edwards shows and feeling like I might want to drunk dial a deity at some point. I didn’t want to be faithless, but I had to get over the stupid notion that faith is some sort of checking account that you can withdraw as much as you put in. Praying and believing doesn’t get you anywhere you weren’t already headed towards, but for me, praying and believing makes the journey a bit less bleak.

[I'm writing all of this as the sun is setting and I just looked up and out the window to see a fucking water color sky happening.]

The other thing that goes through my mind is how much I want to flick the people behind the Johnson and Johnson ad campaign. Because I can’t tell you how annoying it is to have a tag line following you around every day. YES. Having a baby changes everything.

Except for the stuff it doesn’t change.

Like the trunk of complicated emotions that will follow you around everywhere after you have the baby. And in this trunk there will sit all of the emotions you had before you had a baby, all crusty and nasty emotions like moth infested blankets. And there will sit the emotions you still might have when you see pregnant women or hear of women that had more ideal pregnancies or births. And the real kicker is that this trunk is forever covered with some kind of invisibility cloak because once you have a baby your world is meant to be perfect and you can’t really point behind you to the trunk and say, “oh YEAH?? But I still feel broken.” Mostly because even if you are broken there is a woman out there that is more broken and will punch you in the face for trying to even equate “post infertility but with a baby pain” with “during infertility got no baby” pain.

Which is why this weekend was especially emotional because I finally met two women that have forever changed my life. And then I got to attend N & J’s baby shower and the next day I met an entire house-full of women that had me at hello. I am quite literally overwhelmed.

[here is where I would write 10 bajillion paragraphs about the amazing Paz, but she would kick my fat ass with her beautiful and fancy shoes if I went all gushy gal on her. I will just say, for now, that she is one of those women that you feel instantly safe with, instantly at ease, and I am so fucking blessed to know her.]

[here is where I would put my love song to Mel. I think many of us have a love song for her and mine would be written by Bette Midler, sung by Meatloaf, and backed up by a rocking choir in glitter gowns. Seeing the woman that spear headed a movement that helped create your son HOLDING your son is one of the most profound moments of my life. And that is putting it mildly.]

[here is where I gush about how amazing and AWESOME it was to watch such a great couple have fancy gifts and love heaped upon them as we all countdown to Fig's arrival. And here is where I don't even attempt to explain how weepy I got watching W play with other tried-hard-for children. You get it.]

[And then here is where I just quietly say that I think I am now a member of TOOTPU. I mean I didn't finish all of the hazing but I drank a Ruby Slipper and I think that counts for something. And holy fuck do not look at the photos of me here too closely because I broke the fat girl rule and was photographed sitting down and with a flash. ooof. Thighs of the century. I win!]

So now flash forward to today. Because I am clearly sitting here with nothing to say, heh.

Besides a baby there have been a handful of other things I have pined away for on this blog. Plaid boots being a big one. And then of course the quest to find the Ikea labyrinth rug. This was casually mentioned by my Mother to my friend J. And J is some kind of craig’s list whisperer because within 24 hours she had FOUND me the rug. In CANADA. And just over two weeks later look what showed up today (thanks to some great bargaining by Mother):

I mean how do I sit still when so much has been happening? I feel like my life has been turned on. Or at least the lightbulbs got changed.

Last night W woke up just after midnight. I sat at the end of the bed and looked out the window and saw two shooting stars. It felt magical and spiritual and like a wink. I hope they are watching. I really hope that is how things happen.

Still in a bit of a lack of quality sleep/repressed emotions/random anxiety haze. So today you get deconstructed blog soup. Or a box of chocolate. Chose your own metaphor/ adventure.

Bri’s awesome Aunt was recently diagnosed with breast cancer and had surgery yesterday. Aunt P has been a reader over here for a while and a good friend to my family. She is also a super, kick ass, and all kinds of brave woman. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers. Bri is collecting messages for her over at her site. If you have a moment please do leave her a healing message.

There is a Mama cardinal and a Papa cardinal looking to build a nest in one of the trees in the back yard. The have flown by the window over here all morning and each time I catch a glimpse of a crimson wing I think of GM. She loved cardinals. This is the longest I have ever not seen her, held her hand. And as much as I am trying to box up the grief and sadness for a time when there is, I don’t know, TIME, some of it trickles out. And last night, as I walked down the hall, I could still smell her white linen perfume.

One of Mother’s old work friends called this morning to chat. After relaying the lack of job news this friend asks, “How’s Grandmother?!!” Holy fucking shit. Like I couldn’t even talk. I heard myself explaining that she had died. But before I could filter through her condolences I just said,”please. I can’t talk about it.” I really can’t. I don’t feel like this is denial. But it might be a cousin of it.

After YEARS. (seriously) Years of begging. Dr. Molly has a blog. Yes you may do a cartwheel through blogland. She has been quietly blogging for 3 months and I am now allowed to pass on the url to ya’ll as she is ready to go from writing to writing within a community. She writes some pretty inspiring stuff- mostly about harnessing creativity and celebrating yourself. Please go wave at her, and if her space feels good, hang out. She is good people. One of the best.

[now I just need to get Mandy to blog more often, and Laura and Marta to START blogs]

In other awesome news, Jen has opened up an etsy shop. Woo! W got to try out some of her prototypes and it is some quality stuff. Jen is up and running and ready for business.

Yesterday Mother put a call in to the recruiters for the Denver job (don’t know the name of the business yet- but as soon as we do I will be reaching out to the Denver folks that e-mailed me. THANK YOU!). She also reached out to the headhunter that she worked with for years and years. He is, of course, out of town “for a few weeks”. Today will be more calls and if there is momentum on a call I will be coming back here naming locations.

I also want to say thank you to all of the advice and input you guys have given us about the job search. It is tough times out in the job hunting world and things are certainly not like they used to be. There is a lack of courtesy for starters (not with you, but with the companies hiring) and also a lack of scope.

Skip this next paragraph if the phrase, “baby poop” makes you twitch….last warning…

With the advent of solid foods we are now entering the world of solid poop. Or solid-ish. Solid adjacent. Regardless it fucking stinks and is way more of a DEAL to deal with than his previous number twos. But I have figured out that the handheld shower nozzle extends perfectly to reach the toilet and it helps depoop the cloth diapers a lot.

Done with poop talk.

But what is up with the sounds that W makes ALL DAY. EVERY DAY? Mother calls it his squeaky, creaky, haunted door sound. Can someone please buy the kid a vowel?

And one more day of awesome weather before eighty degrees finds us again…

What is random with you today?

And is it me or is flickr down??

Yesterday Mother, W, and I dropped off Millie’s clothes to the funeral home. Mother wanted to see the family plot before any significant activity so we drove up and over the hill to the cemetery. Sadly Mother discovered that all of the shrubs, bulbed flowers and beautifully maintained landscaping had been removed. It was a shock for her to see the family plot looking so disturbed and it was an even bigger shock to discover the hows and whys. I probably shouldn’t get too detailed, but will just say that it falls under the sub-heading of family stuff that can’t be blogged.

After calming down we drove around the town to look at all of the various changes and new things. So many wonderful things have happened here but it certainly has transformed the feeling of this place to something quite unrecognizable. It’s just weird to be here to be honest.

After riding through the University campus we made a quick stop by Dr. Molly’s house so that Mother and  I could get a hug and W’s Godmother could get some squeezing of W in. Then we drove over to the library so that I could show W all the work that his Great Grandfather had done.

The next stop was a good visit with family. W got to meet his Gran Ola and his Great Aunt E. He was not in Captain Adorable mode, but what can you do? The poor kid hasn’t had a “schedule” in over a month.

Today we will be attending church services with Dr. Molly and then we will attend the funeral of the husband of one of Millie’s closest friends. Then there will be dinner tonight with Mother’s brother and his family.

I got up 4am this morning so that I could run down to the grocery store to pick up the Sunday paper. And there Millie was. A photo I had taken of her a few years ago. An obituary that was beautifully written by Mother. An entire life summed up in two columns of black and white.

This is hard.

It took just over 12 hours to make the drive. Being a type of person that likes to feel in control I requested to drive the entire trip in exchange for Mother promising to entertain me by reading news or e-mails. We felt so much love hearing your thoughtful and kind comments as we made the trip.

For 75% of the trip W slept or chirped at trucks as they sped by. For 20% of the trip W screamed. And the remaining 5% will be known as the “windshield wiper incident” which does not directly involve W but was a pretty major exclamation point on the journey.

The first several hours were pretty quiet. We listened to classical chorale or opera music as that is where my son’s tastes are these days. Sigh. The kid no longer tolerates classic rock. No more Eagles or Bowie. Instead he is all about tenors and symphonies. At least it isn’t Raffi. I worked at a toy store the summer before my freshman year and had to listen to Baby Beluga on repeat for HOURS.

So as we cruised along, humming quietly to pie jesu or the like, I noticed that we were not alone on the drive. Every 10 seconds a vividly stunning yellow butterfly would sail by in front of the car. It must be that time of year, but it felt unique and special.

What was a difficult change for Mother, who is so used to making the drive to Alabama with no stops except maybe one quick dash for gas and a Dr. Pepper, is W’s and my need to stop every 2.5 hours. This is what stretched our trip out to yawning lengths, but no one has ever said that long drives with infants are as fun and easy as cake walks. Not that I know anyone that is an expert at cake walks…

I’ll skip forward to the windshield wiper incident as chronicling other parts of the drive would be tedious for all of us. Basically we had what you would call a classic, “holy fucking shit it is raining like crazy and our windshield wipers are useless and rotten and I CAN’T SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”. Interstate edition.

It was as horrible as you can imagine. But luckily we found (after several futile attempts) a gas station that had new wipers for sale. Then begins the part of the saga where neither Mother, nor I, nor the gas station clerk person, nor good Samaritan number 1 could figure out how to change out the wiper blades. Nearly an hour later we found good Samaritan number 2 and after some handy work with a flat head screw driver we were in business.

And of course Mother and I were nearly in tears the entire time. Because at that moment it felt like the day would never end, the drive would never end, and W would never stop screaming. And it was 11pm.

We finally reached our hotel and dragged ourselves to bed.

This morning W and I were up early (word up, central time zone) and went out into the world to stock up on important things like baby wipes (whoops. Guess who forgot to pack those? Me.) and cereal bars. I took W to the grocery store that I had gone to a million times with Millie- the one that was next to the elementary school that I attended for two years. The grocery store was mostly empty but every shopper we encountered was tiny and old but delighted by W. (W now believes that grocery store buggies are the coolest fucking things EVER)

I marvel at the changes that have happened to this city during the time that we have been away. Entire blocks that used to be adorable tiny houses now host beautiful and glamorous shopping mecas. W and I ran in one of the new places to grab some bagels and coffee to go and I had to laugh at the collection of people huddled inside on their laptops. This was exactly what I had pined for all the years that I lived here.

I did see, head down with his face in the paper, a guy I think I went on a date with once. (I think he thought it was a date and I just thought it was going to the movies) And I had this crazy commentary in my mind as I bounced W on my hip and waited for my coffee to be ready. What a sight I would be to people that I have not seen in 3+ years: several pant sizes fatter, way less concerned with my outward appearance, and, oh yes, I have a baby.

I am now hosting all kinds of stupid body hating thoughts and regret leaving the hotel wearing the pants that are always just a bit snug fresh from the dryer. And then of course feeling lame that my mind is filling up with such nonsense when this trip is so not about me or the size of my ass.

But part of coming back to honor Millie will include seeing people that I wasn’t sure I would ever see again.

This morning Mother and I are going to the funeral home to drop off the clothes that we selected for Millie to wear. And then we will drive around and visit places that were special to Millie. Due to logistical circumstances the service will be on Tuesday morning.

I feel like I am compartmentalizing my grief right now. Holding it in until? I have no idea. I just know that I am tense about things like the visitation and I want to be strong for Mother and I have anxiety about potential for family drama that I won’t blog about and seeing people that I haven’t seen in a while.  A wonderful part of this trip is that W will get to be squished and loved on by one of his Godmothers and several other important people in our lives that have been waiting to meet him.

Funeral will be Sunday afternoon at the earliest. Millie will be flying as we drive. And hearing that she will make one more flight made us smile.

Thank you for all of your sweet thoughts and prayers. It means so much to Mother and me.

Millie passed away tonight. Mother was with her and said it was quiet and graceful. She just took a breath and then didn’t take another. I did not think that I would be able to see her after she had gone, but I did and was relieved to see a hint of a smile on her sweet face.

We cleaned out her room and donated her clothes to the nursing home. Said our good byes to the nurses and staff.

In a few hours we will take care of last minute obligations (board the dog, do laundry, pack for a few days away, fill the car with gas) and then Friday we will make the long drive back to Alabama to reunite my Grandmother’s body with my Grandfather’s.

Thank you all for witnessing this part of my life: The Millie Chapters. It feels so odd to turn the page.

August 12, 1921- October 7, 2009

Today my Grandfather would have been 91.

We spent most of the day with GM at the nursing home. W and I are home now and Mother has driven back to spend the night in a chair next to GM’s bed.

It was a hard day for all.

First it was the peppermint ice cream and now it is another day below 90. Why it is practically winter down here! Seriously- it is fucking awesome outside right now. It’s kind of, sort of, almost, maybe pleasant. And if you stand in the shade of a palm tree it is cool. No joke. Check out my current temperature:

The weather started to turn after lunch yesterday. I had spent the morning at the nursing home trying to engage GM. She was in the day room and in an aggressive mood. It felt weird to be there without W, but until he is clear of white spots (& he IS getting better) I don’t want to bring him. It kind of blew the minds of several residents as they know me as the lady with the baby. I got a lot of, “who are you???” questions from the more vocal residents and I had to wonder if GM was thinking the same thing as she looked at me with a scowl.

Probably not. I imagine she was still worn out from her Monday which involved a pretty serious choking incident. Fucking congestive heart failure. Fucking pneumonia. Motherfucking Alzheimer’s! Where is the calm?

But I started this post with the weather…which allows me to tell you about W’s first encounter with a park and a swing that didn’t have fisher price labels on it. There is a pretty nice park in my neighborhood. It has a baseball diamond, a soccer field, two basketball courts, and playgrounds for big kids, little kids, and handicapped kids. Nice, right? Except when it is 100 degrees.

The swing wasn’t quite age appropriate for W just yet- I think they are more for toddlers, but he seemed game for a little fun so in he went. I kept my hand on him at all times but by gentle push number 8 he was drifting away with thoughts of sleep.