02 May 2017
15 April 2017
Yesterday and Tomorrow
Yesterday was the anniversary of my mother's death. Maybe I'll sound callous saying this, but I didn't remember it. I rarely do. The only reason I remembered today was because I was doing a critique for someone who'd written a story about grieving, and part of her story was so much like mine that I suddenly noticed the date.
When my mother died, I was in grad school. It was break, and we were all meeting with our professors and planning our schedules for the summer. I had a lot to do. It's not like we were super close. I hadn't lived with her growing up, and things were complicated. And we all knew her death was coming. So really, I told myself, I should just be carrying on and getting stuff done. I had clients to see, a meeting with my professor, some case notes to type up. After all that, then there would be time to grieve or feel whatever I was supposed to feel.
I remember one of the other students really wanted to be in the practicum class I had been assigned to. She came to talk to me in the computer lab to see if I'd be willing to trade. We talked for several minutes, and I never once mentioned Mom's death. Later on, when she found out, she felt terrible for putting those details on me at such a time. But really, it wasn't her fault. She could not have known. I had given her no clue.
The facts and feelings finally came spilling out when I was meeting with my professor. We were discussing my progress in the program, and he was concerned about some of the things I hadn't gotten done yet. Like the good therapist that he was, he was kind but firm, and there was definitely some reprimanding to be done. I took it all in, silent and perhaps a bit withdrawn. A call in his office took him away for a moment, and while he was gone, I burst into tears. The poor man returned to the room to find me bawling, and at first he thought it was because of his comments. I quickly explained the real reason--funny that I felt the need to reassure and comfort him instead of receive comfort. It was strange that those few minutes alone, in the silence, were what finally brought on the breakdown.
I don't remember exactly what he said, but I suddenly realized that the way I was dealing with things wasn't quite right. I couldn't just pretend everything was the same. I needed to take a break. I needed to get back home to be with my siblings as we planned the funeral and dealt with her possessions. I needed to let people know.
I remember the weird awkwardness of calling all my clients to tell them I was cancelling appointments because of a "family emergency." Some of them asked if everything was okay, and I just told them yes. What else could I say? I was their therapist, not the other way around. So I still wasn't telling it all, but at least I wasn't pretending to myself anymore.
Even now it all seems surreal, this strange detachment, this desire to just keep moving.
And yet.
I fast forward now to the preparations for Mom's funeral. My older sisters and I gathered at the funeral home to put the finishing touches on Mom's body. It sounds morbid and weird--and at first it felt that way too--for us to work over her body, doing her hair, trying to get that ghastly orange makeup to not make her face look too fake. Who knew that a dead body's hairstyle was so hard to get right?
It sounds awful, but it wasn't. It was, for me, the most important step in my grief. I looked down at this body lying before us, and the overwhelming feeling came to me: This is not my mom. This is the house she used to live in. She isn't here anymore, and that's okay. She's just moved out of town. It wasn't so much about being detached finally as it was about realizing that it was okay.
Tomorrow is Easter. It's the day we celebrate the life, death, and resurrection of the one who made it possible for me to say that--she is gone, but I will see her again. There are things for us to sort out, apologies and forgiveness to be had, hugs to be given. Knowing my mom, there's probably some crocheting to do.
I am grateful to know that even when sadness comes--and it does--it doesn't have to last. He is risen, and we will too.
When my mother died, I was in grad school. It was break, and we were all meeting with our professors and planning our schedules for the summer. I had a lot to do. It's not like we were super close. I hadn't lived with her growing up, and things were complicated. And we all knew her death was coming. So really, I told myself, I should just be carrying on and getting stuff done. I had clients to see, a meeting with my professor, some case notes to type up. After all that, then there would be time to grieve or feel whatever I was supposed to feel.
I remember one of the other students really wanted to be in the practicum class I had been assigned to. She came to talk to me in the computer lab to see if I'd be willing to trade. We talked for several minutes, and I never once mentioned Mom's death. Later on, when she found out, she felt terrible for putting those details on me at such a time. But really, it wasn't her fault. She could not have known. I had given her no clue.
The facts and feelings finally came spilling out when I was meeting with my professor. We were discussing my progress in the program, and he was concerned about some of the things I hadn't gotten done yet. Like the good therapist that he was, he was kind but firm, and there was definitely some reprimanding to be done. I took it all in, silent and perhaps a bit withdrawn. A call in his office took him away for a moment, and while he was gone, I burst into tears. The poor man returned to the room to find me bawling, and at first he thought it was because of his comments. I quickly explained the real reason--funny that I felt the need to reassure and comfort him instead of receive comfort. It was strange that those few minutes alone, in the silence, were what finally brought on the breakdown.
I don't remember exactly what he said, but I suddenly realized that the way I was dealing with things wasn't quite right. I couldn't just pretend everything was the same. I needed to take a break. I needed to get back home to be with my siblings as we planned the funeral and dealt with her possessions. I needed to let people know.
I remember the weird awkwardness of calling all my clients to tell them I was cancelling appointments because of a "family emergency." Some of them asked if everything was okay, and I just told them yes. What else could I say? I was their therapist, not the other way around. So I still wasn't telling it all, but at least I wasn't pretending to myself anymore.
Even now it all seems surreal, this strange detachment, this desire to just keep moving.
And yet.
I fast forward now to the preparations for Mom's funeral. My older sisters and I gathered at the funeral home to put the finishing touches on Mom's body. It sounds morbid and weird--and at first it felt that way too--for us to work over her body, doing her hair, trying to get that ghastly orange makeup to not make her face look too fake. Who knew that a dead body's hairstyle was so hard to get right?
It sounds awful, but it wasn't. It was, for me, the most important step in my grief. I looked down at this body lying before us, and the overwhelming feeling came to me: This is not my mom. This is the house she used to live in. She isn't here anymore, and that's okay. She's just moved out of town. It wasn't so much about being detached finally as it was about realizing that it was okay.
Tomorrow is Easter. It's the day we celebrate the life, death, and resurrection of the one who made it possible for me to say that--she is gone, but I will see her again. There are things for us to sort out, apologies and forgiveness to be had, hugs to be given. Knowing my mom, there's probably some crocheting to do.
I am grateful to know that even when sadness comes--and it does--it doesn't have to last. He is risen, and we will too.
14 April 2017
Totally our kid
There are moments when you turn around and think, "Yep, that kid is definitely mine." This is one of those moments.
31 March 2017
Eating Glue, and so on
I managed to make it through 36 years of life without ever eating glue. Up until yesterday. Yesterday I was sitting at the table with my kids, cleaning up our lunch dishes at co-op. I moved a lid and felt something wet on my hand. It was a little white smear. They'd eaten go-gurts earlier, so I thought nothing of it and just licked it off.
Not yogurt.
The 6yo had a class project sitting next to our dishes, and the class project had huge globs of wet glue. Which is, of course, what I'd just eaten.
In case you're wondering, it was gross. Not the worst thing I've ever eaten (that would be horseradish), but I'd definitely never eat it on purpose. I had to eat an orange slice and a big bite of cake to try to get rid of the flavor, and even then it felt like it was sticking to my tongue. (Sticking. Har har.)
So, there's that item off my bucket list.
In other news, the 2yo is currently even more crazy about reading than his sisters. Yesterday morning he woke up around 5:30 wailing, "Read a book!" Which was pretty much how he'd fallen asleep the night before too.
Also, we were playing with wiki sticks earlier in the week, and I made the letters for the 6yo's name, so the 2yo wanted me to do it for him too. I did, and I spelled out his name while pointing at the letters. It was fun, and then he started jumbling them around and picking up each letter and saying it was his name. Good golly, 2yos are cute.
The next day while I was showering he toddled in (I have got to start locking that door!) holding a bunch of wiki sticks in his hands and saying, "Letters!" Also ridiculously cute. But you probably had to be there to understand.
On second thought, you shouldn't be there. Because I was showering and all.
Now for a teaser: Soon I hope to regale you with tales of our trip to Londontown and my giddy jumping-up-and-down excitement over getting to use a drop spindle. It was good times!
Also, maybe I'll get around to updates on my teen writing class and our epic anthology!
Not yogurt.
The 6yo had a class project sitting next to our dishes, and the class project had huge globs of wet glue. Which is, of course, what I'd just eaten.
In case you're wondering, it was gross. Not the worst thing I've ever eaten (that would be horseradish), but I'd definitely never eat it on purpose. I had to eat an orange slice and a big bite of cake to try to get rid of the flavor, and even then it felt like it was sticking to my tongue. (Sticking. Har har.)
So, there's that item off my bucket list.
In other news, the 2yo is currently even more crazy about reading than his sisters. Yesterday morning he woke up around 5:30 wailing, "Read a book!" Which was pretty much how he'd fallen asleep the night before too.
Also, we were playing with wiki sticks earlier in the week, and I made the letters for the 6yo's name, so the 2yo wanted me to do it for him too. I did, and I spelled out his name while pointing at the letters. It was fun, and then he started jumbling them around and picking up each letter and saying it was his name. Good golly, 2yos are cute.
The next day while I was showering he toddled in (I have got to start locking that door!) holding a bunch of wiki sticks in his hands and saying, "Letters!" Also ridiculously cute. But you probably had to be there to understand.
On second thought, you shouldn't be there. Because I was showering and all.
Now for a teaser: Soon I hope to regale you with tales of our trip to Londontown and my giddy jumping-up-and-down excitement over getting to use a drop spindle. It was good times!
Also, maybe I'll get around to updates on my teen writing class and our epic anthology!
08 March 2017
So far
Things I may or may not have done so far today:
*Eaten cheesecake in hiding. For breakfast.
*Let the baby chew on a shoe.
*Looked at the 9yo's outfit and thought, "Oh well. At least it's weather appropriate?"
So pretty much I'm winning.
*Eaten cheesecake in hiding. For breakfast.
*Let the baby chew on a shoe.
*Looked at the 9yo's outfit and thought, "Oh well. At least it's weather appropriate?"
So pretty much I'm winning.
05 March 2017
Jewelry!
It's been a jewelry kind of a day. Every once in a while I get a chance to work on it, and today was the day! I really just dabble, but I quite enjoy it.
Today was ...
... the beginning of a treble clef pendant and earrings. Not done yet, but mostly done.
... a random experimental ring that spells "love." I've never made rings before, and this one isn't good, bit it was fun to try!
... a pair of earrings made by Addra for me. She designed them and I put them on the hooks.
... a bird's nest pendant that I've been planning to do for a while.
Yay!
Today was ...
... the beginning of a treble clef pendant and earrings. Not done yet, but mostly done.
... a random experimental ring that spells "love." I've never made rings before, and this one isn't good, bit it was fun to try!
... a pair of earrings made by Addra for me. She designed them and I put them on the hooks.
... a bird's nest pendant that I've been planning to do for a while.
Yay!
27 February 2017
Before Moonlight There Was Mathcounts
So, by now you probably know all about the Oscars mishap where La La Land got told they won, but ... they didn't.
Well, I'm here to tell you I've been there and done that, in a way more geeky junior high sort of way.
It was the year 1995, and my teammates and I were at the national MathCounts competition. After a whole slew of different events--including nerdy mathematical interludes when the judges asked things like, "How many digits of pi have you memorized?"--we were announced as placing fifth out of the fifty-seven teams! We were both thrilled and shocked. Especially given how much goofing off we'd been doing.
Um yeah, we actually placed twentieth.
Naturally we drowned our sorrows in junk food, many rounds of card games, and a lot of tween angst. Also a lot of geekiness. Fortunately, we all recovered.
Here's the news article chronicling our tragedy: http://www.deseretnews.com/article/418107/MATH-OFFICIALS-CANT-ADD-UTAHNS-ARE-20TH-NOT-5TH.html?pg=all
Of particular note: the insanely pretentious answer I apparently gave to the question of future plans. Seriously? Could I possibly get more show-offy sounding? But it was good for a guffaw just now, so I'll call it a win.
Too bad it wasn't also a win for my MathCounts team.
Well, I'm here to tell you I've been there and done that, in a way more geeky junior high sort of way.
It was the year 1995, and my teammates and I were at the national MathCounts competition. After a whole slew of different events--including nerdy mathematical interludes when the judges asked things like, "How many digits of pi have you memorized?"--we were announced as placing fifth out of the fifty-seven teams! We were both thrilled and shocked. Especially given how much goofing off we'd been doing.
Um yeah, we actually placed twentieth.
Naturally we drowned our sorrows in junk food, many rounds of card games, and a lot of tween angst. Also a lot of geekiness. Fortunately, we all recovered.
Here's the news article chronicling our tragedy: http://www.deseretnews.com/article/418107/MATH-OFFICIALS-CANT-ADD-UTAHNS-ARE-20TH-NOT-5TH.html?pg=all
Of particular note: the insanely pretentious answer I apparently gave to the question of future plans. Seriously? Could I possibly get more show-offy sounding? But it was good for a guffaw just now, so I'll call it a win.
Too bad it wasn't also a win for my MathCounts team.
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