Cabin Fever

It has been a long two weeks with the croup as our unwelcome guest and the cabin fever was really beginning to get on my nerves. So, I baked.

And ate.

And enjoyed coffee in a sunlit living room fort.

We built Lego star ships, played pirates, read many books, built more forts. And then baked and ate again.

I was really doing my best to stave off the stir-craziness we were experiencing. But by Friday morning, there was nothing left to do but join the Dark Side.

Hubs, alarmed at my level of insanity after two weeks of being a shut-in and nurse maid, quickly suggested dinner out. He probably could have suggested hot dogs at Target and I would have jumped at it. I didn't mention that so instead we went to a nice little pub with amazing food. I didn't want to press the insanity case so I left the camera at home. I had a duck burger. It was awesome. Totally wish I would have gotten a picture of it. Yum.

It was hard to not think about how Jameson would have been trying to scale the table to swipe his brother's cup, toy, food...

Which is probably one of the reasons eating out for our family usually means camping and eating, well, out.

One Month

I miss him so much. This angel of mine. He has been gone for a month. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Other times is feels like years have gone by.

He misses him too. His best friend, his brother.

My heart aches and breaks twice over every day.

There is always something missing. No matter how much fun we have, no matter how busy we stay, no matter how much loves flows between us here, there is a hole. And I can't fill that hole for him. There is nothing I can do to take away that ever present ache in my Little Man. Everything we do together screams that Jameson is gone and the balance is so off I don't know how to be.

I feel an overwhelming guilt and helplessness and sorrow for my boy. His best friend is gone. His brother is gone. My son is only four and already he knows a pain and sorrow and emptiness so unbearable that is brings me to my knees and breaks me over and over again. And I can't do anything about it. I can't take it away. I can't fix this. I can't save him from this pain any more than I could save Jameson. And I weep for both my boys and the pain I can't take away.

Cold Weather, Warm Hearts

We had a lazy and cozy weekend. Remember how I said I wasn't going to just let Little Man watch TV all weekend? I said something about art projects and reading and playing games instead...

Well, we did play a game or two and get all silly some of the time.

And we did make some art projects and read a number of good books Daddy brought home from the library.

But mostly, Little Man laid on the couch, barking like a seal until he was out of breath, watching TV. He watched PBS and Star Wars movies with Hubs and BusyTown episodes on Netflix and Disney movies... Yeah. Mom of the Year, right here. That's me! Little Man is still absolutely miserable and we are all anxious for the croup to leave our house. He went to bed at six tonight; hopefully he will be able to sleep tonight and start recouperating.

I wanted so badly to make him feel better. To make him comfy and happy. To soothe. So I made soup.

But not just any soup. This a soup I dream about. This is the kind of soup that makes me wish for cold. It is one of my favorite winter comfort foods.

Ribollita di pane. Mmmm.

Full of veggies: carrots, beet greens, kale, onions, garlic, celery, and whatever else is in the fridge, calling my name. And bacon. Mmmm, bacon. Beans. Crusty Italian bread. It is the kind of soup that is even better the next day. It was delicious; Hubs literally had to tell me to stop saying "Mmmm" after every bite. I just can't help myself.

It was the perfect food for such a cold weekend. Ahh, it was cold. Not even the dogs wanted to play outside. But while it was cold outside, out hearts were warm and happy. An old friend just happened to be in town for a conference and was able to stay a few extra days to visit with us. It was wonderful. We had great food and even better conversation. We had much too much fun to actually do the dishes.

We talked and played games and laughed through movies and reminisced.

We ate pancakes and drank tea. We shared our lives with each other. We cried and laughed and snuggled with dogs.

It was such an unexpected and welcome blessing in my life. I'll take cold weather and warm hearts any day.

Hungry

I really like to meet God in the kitchen.

This was a quick dinner: chicken and swiss chard in coconut curry sauce over cilantro rice. It sounds exotic and difficult, but chopping and stirring are the hardest parts. Little Man declared that curry is his favorite spice. That little boy makes me happier than anything else could. And not just because he like to eat good food. But that does help. He also told us he loves Bob Dylan yesterday. He is so funny.

Jameson liked good food, too.

Last night we had leftover chicken spinach roll-ups and a spinach salad with fresh blueberries and pomegranate. Hubs was teasing me about taking pictures so I didn't get any. It was good, though. It was the first time I'd ever peeled a pomegranate. I didn't do a great job. By the time I was done, both me and the kitchen were covered in sticky, red pomegranate juice.

My bedtime treat last night: hot apple cider with cinnamon, nutmeg and whipped cream. Whipped cream is totally one of my own, personal food groups. I like it so much I often think, "I want whipped cream, what do we have that I can put it on?" The idea of just eating a bowl of whipped cream alone seems wrong. I've done it before and it doesn't taste wrong, but society has labeled it a topping, so alas, I will try to keep it that way.

This was breakfast this morning. Crockpot pumpkin oatmeal. And yes, I did think about putting whipped cream on it; a close second was maple syrup and heavy whipping cream. I should probably get my cholesterol checked.

Between my breadmaker and crockpot, I think we can -and may- wake up to fresh hot breakfasts every day! Except on pancake days. And bacon mornings. Yeah, I really should get my cholesterol checked.

Little Man has been sick with the croup all week and it is super cold outside; we are in the throes of cabin fever. It has warmed up to -15 so far today and without his sidekick to wake him up, Little Man is still sleeping. I'm okay with that. He has always been a big sleeper. Jameson was always our alarm clock and we are all out of sync now. I'm trying my best to get back in sync, back to myself so Little Man can again be himself. Although, I've got to say that I don't mind the whole sleeping in thing. This week has been really challenging with the cold and croup. I'm so tempted to just put TV on; we could sit and rot our brains out all day long and I wouldn't have to deal with a whiny kiddo or my own thoughts and feelings. Permanent numbing sometimes seems like a great idea. But I firmly believe that we get out of this life what we put into it, so that doesn't really work all that well. So instead of sitting it out and waiting for the water to get calm, I think I'm going to learn how to surf. At least metaphorically; I'm not a good enough swimmer to try it for real. And sharks freak me out. I think my brothers made me watch Jaws a few times too many as a young child. Although, if Hubs could swing a residency in Hawaii, I think I'd be okay with that.

So no TV. Well, maybe a little TV. Maybe a movie a day while sick. But really, the games and books and rainbow chains and construction paper hearts with glitter and legos are way more fun that TV anyway. And sure, my house may get a little messier in the process, but since when have I ever shied away from a mess!?

Ah, pudding painting! A favorite activity in our house. I can usually measure how much fun we've had in a day by how dirty the tub water looks at the end of the day. Or, by how many trips to the tub we took.

Did I tell you I'm reading the Bible this year? The whole thing. I've never done it before and am really excited about it. I started thinking about it back in November and tried to start then, but it didn't go well. The hospital was too distracting and I was too unstable to focus on anything but J for more than a few seconds. At that time, my every breath was a prayer and I was wholly focused a select few verses that I just played over and over in my mind.

I am certainly just as, if not more, unstable now, but focusing on myself and this grief will only make that worse. Instead, I try to read novels and play with Little Man and hold conversations with people and read God's word and cook. I've heard that if you do something long enough it becomes habit; maybe if I do "normal" stuff long enough, life will become normal.

But back to the Bible thing. I own, like, 10 Bibles. I love Bibles. I love the way they feel so heavy in my hands, the way the leather covers smell, the way the papery thin pages sound when I flip through the book. I have all of these Bibles all over my house and like them, but I don't use them. Sometimes I do, but most of the time, I pick one up and just feel lost. I feel like I should hear a voice telling me where to look and what to read. I feel like there should be a conversation happening when I'm in The Word and often times it falls short of my expectations. I've long neglected just picking up the Good Book and reading it on my own. I've done many Bible studies and love my daily devotionals, but that is always someone else interpreting the Bible. Even if I don't get it, even if I don't feel it, going there and meeting God in His book has got to have value. So I'm reading it. But I'm reading it online. The irony is not lost on me; I own so many Bibles and love real books, and here I am reading it on Facebook. Seriously. The One Year Bible posts a link for the day's verses on my wall every day and I click and read. It is easy to remember and easy to click and read. I have a feeling I will eventually want to get back into a "real" Bible, but for now, the fact that I'm in God's word every day is enough. It is not an easy commitment to keep, but keeping the focus on God and stoking that fire in my heart is so important right now. Jesus is the only thing keeping me out of the abyss and I need to stay close. I need to meet him not only in the kitchen, but every other place in my day.

Ahhh, this post is too long and I am rambling much too much. For that I am sorry, but I have just one more thing I need to share. You may want to grab a tissue.

Jameson went home right before sunrise the day after Christmas. It was peaceful and quiet and awful and beautiful and then he was gone. He was gone and Hubs and I packed up all of the cards and pictures and gifts and clothes and we went home to tell . On the drive home, the sun was just rising and it was a perfect winter morning. The snow was clean and white, the sky was clear, and the sun was a glorious ball of fire, reflecting off the buildings as it began its upward climb in the sky. I was noticing the beginning of this new, beautiful day and the idea that new lives were beginning was not lost on me. Jameson's new and perfect life was beginning in Heaven and our lives were also new and different. And right then, as the sun made its debut, a song came on the radio and I almost pulled over. I thought for sure I was going to lose it when I heard the first notes wash over me; instead I was filled with immense peace.

I want to live like this. I want to bring everything to Jesus and live.

Jersey Shore

I remember going to the Jersey Shore when I was a little girl. It was so much fun to play on the beach, hang out on the boardwalk and jump in the waves. One time, I was playing in the water and the waves were big, but I wasn't out very far so I wasn't worried. But a huge wave came and knocked me down and wave after wave crashed into me and I couldn't get up and then the undertow grabbed me. I remember being underwater and not knowing which way was up or which way was down and not being able to get out of the water and panicking because I really, really wanted and needed to breathe!

I feel the same way now some days with the sadness. For the most part, the waves of sadness roll in, but the water I'm standing in isn't too deep and I can manage them alright. But every once in a while a wave knocks me down and the sadness pulls me under and I just can't breathe. When it happened at the Jersey Shore, my dad just reached down and yanked me out of the water. He probably doesn't even remember it. For what was such a scary and momentous thing for me was not a big deal at all for him; he was right by me and the water was only knee deep for him. He knew I was okay and he could save me.

I have a feeling that God feels the same way about my sadness. I am not drowning, only under for a bit and He is always right there to pluck me from the dark waters. I know that I will not drown in this sadness. I know that we will make it through this dark time in our lives. Even when we can't tell up from down, even when we can't breathe, even when it feels like the undertow is taking us out to sea, we have hope. We have hope in God. I not only hope and wait expectantly for eternal life in heaven with Hubs and Little Man and Jameson and you, but I also have hope for my life on this earth. I wrote a while back when Jameson was still alive about how God can redeem anything. And that even means my broken heart. I will always miss and love my Jameson. He will always be mine and a part of me is already in heaven with him now. But this sadness and doubt and guilt that wash over me so regularly now are NOT my Jameson and holding tight to them does not bring me closer to him or to God or to Hubs and Little Man. I want to hold on to Jameson, but not grief. I want to remember his smiles and laughter, not my pain or his suffering. And when I look out over big water, instead of being battered and beaten down, I want to think about jumping the waves, safely in my Father's arms.

Breathing

I went back to MOPS yesterday. I wasn't prepared for the raw emotion to start bubbling up in the car on the way there. I probably should have been; we did that drive a lot last year with J and I have so many memories of him in the car on the way to the grocery store we just passed. And the car wash. And the park. And MOPS. Walking in those doors was so difficult. If Little Man hadn't been so excited to be there I probably would have turned around and gone back home. But he was really excited, so we stayed. I'm so glad we did, but it was so hard. So hard to think, to talk, to breathe.

On the car ride home I remembered how Jameson always had to eat a breakfast bar in the car on the way home because he always fell asleep in the car. And I would gently lift him from his car seat and carry him to bed for his nap. I was trying so hard to remember the exact feel of him in my arms. The weight of his head on my shoulder, the feel of his arms and legs and belly snuggling in on me, the smell of his hair. And whatever scab had crusted over my heart was ripped off yesterday afternoon. I made it through dinner and then all of the pain and heartache welled up from the depths of my being and crashed down on me. I took J's blankey to bed with me at 8:30 and cried myself to sleep.

He is gone from this earth and I am so happy for him. So happy for him. Because is in heaven and it is so good. He is with Jesus. He is probably smiling and looking down on us from some warm beach up there and laughing as we

are all freezing our butts off down here. J never cared for the cold; he's my Florida Baby. I am so happy for him. But I am so sad for me. I miss him so much and nothing here can ever fill that void where a huge chunk of my heart used to be. I find myself thinking things like "if only I could have one more day" or "if only I could hold him one last time" but I know damn well that it would never be enough, I would always be begging for more.

I have never looked to heaven with such anticipation. I've never longed for it like home until now. Please don't get me wrong here- I have no plans to see Jameson anytime soon. No matter how badly I am hurting, I know that this life I have is still a gift from God and I intend to use it until my time is up. But when that time comes, I will be ready and willing to go home too. To be with Jesus and Jameson and the rest of my family. To hold my baby again and kiss his sweet little head and see him smile and hear him laugh as his daddy throws him in the air and know that our fairy tale will end happily ever after.

Reclamation

I am trying to reclaim everything. Starting with my kitchen.

Hungry? Cooking makes me happy.

Even the sink looks gorgeous.


Eating makes me happy, too.

Little Man loved the radish salad, but I think dessert was his favorite part.

Being in the kitchen helps me find a huge part of myself that has been gone for a long time. Even though life will never be the same, doing the same things helps us all to reclaim our lives and discover our new normal.

I'm finally claiming the house and trying to organize it the way I like.

What's that? It doesn't look organized to you? Well, I had a great helper while consolidating and taking inventory of the art supplies.

It was so much fun to get our craft on. We haven't done it in so long and it used to be the norm. I was a construction paper queen. Little Man is still a glue expert. We both loved the stamping and LiteBrite practice.

I'm abolutely enjoying getting to know Little Man again. I missed him so much when J was sick; for four months I was not his caretaker and that was terrible. Losing Jameson was unimaginably awful and my heart will never recover. I'm so grateful to have my Little Man back. The two of us have both changed a little and our relationship is different without Jzilla in the mix.

I'm loving our time together. Reading, cooking, crafting...everything is more fun with Little Man. Every night before bed we've been playing UNO Attack! together as a family. Four is a really fun age. I love game time almost as much as book time. Almost.

Cuddling up together under the leopard Snuggie and reading book after book after book may just be one of the best treasures we share.

Making The Most Of It

Winter is long and it has been cold here! The past week was so cold we couldn't really head outside much, so we've been having epic battles with light sabers, nerf guns and bows.

I'm really not sure who is having more fun here. We've also been engineering railroad cities complete with rock quarries and rocket ships.  He's been going back and forth between the Navy hat and his pilot helmet. Navy won today.

I've been enjoying rediscovering the kitchen as well. It was so wonderful to bake bread yesterday. Something magical happens in those last 5 minutes of baking bread; the aromas bring the promise of something delicious and special and fulfilling and it changes the feel of the whole house.

These were just buns to go along with more Lucys. We invited ourselves over to Hub's brother's house last night to watch football and I promised Lucys to make up for the intrusion.

It was really nice to get out and be social, but man, it is so hard to go anywhere new. And by new I mean we haven't been there since J. It seems like we forget ourselves and sometime during the evening we found ourselves searching the house to make sure Jameson wasn't climbing the furniture or throwing blocks at the windows. I would give anything to have my sassy little prince back. Little Man's little cousin knocked down a block tower last night and we talked about how J always used to do that. Little Man and I nicknamed Jameson J-zilla whenever he went on a destructive bender. And what little brother doesn't destroy big brother's creations at every chance offered? J-zilla!! He was so awesome.

I'm going to have to bake more bread today. I could use a little magic today. And Little Man loves to help me bake.

Making the most of it is important to me. We only have one life to live and I know we made the most of it with Jameson; I have so much peace from knowing that we did. It is a gift to look back over the past three years and know that we loved and lived fully; we took adventures whenever they were offered, we made messes and art, we threw caution to the wind and explored our world as a family. We laughed and smiled and painted with pudding and took baths in the middles of the day just for the heck of it. I have no regrets from the way we have lived. Isn't that an amazing thing to be able to say? It is a gift from God. We were open and willing and He gave us this gift. And I will cherish it for the rest of my life as I try to continue this life with no regrets.

This morning Little Man needed to sleep in so we were running late for school. As I'm shoving his legs into his jeans, he's cramming a breakfast bar down his throat and attempting to not spill cider down his shirt. And then we couldn't find the car keys. Anywhere. And it seems like a such a small thing, but it was a crossroad. I thought about how to react and I'm happy to say that this morning we made the most of it. Instead of getting upset and trashing the house to find the spare, we threw on our snow pants and walked to school. What a gift. It is beautiful outside! Fresh snow fell last night and everything was covered in a clean, white blanket. There were just a few flakes still coming down and lots of great ice hunks just begging to be kicked from snowbanks. It was a gift and I'm so glad we took it.

So even though our backyard looks like this right now, we are still going to grab life and run with it. The treasures of life are often found in the everyday adventures and gifts like this make it all worthwhile.

Why Me?

It is a fairly heavy question isn't it? Why me? Why us? Why him? Why this? These aren't questions I like to think about. For one thing, the answer doesn't change anything. It won't bring back J. It won't heal the hole inside me or bring any more sleep to me at night. Yet I find that question creeping up in my mind often. Why me?

I once had someone tell me that God allowed this to happen because he knew we were strong enough and that I should view that as a compliment. I think it was supposed to comfort me, but it really just made me want to punch him in the face.

Why me? Usually I try to run the other way when I see that little question popping up in my mind. It sure is tiny, but it carries some hefty weight. I don't want my life to be a pity party. I don't want to wallow in the dank basement of hell on earth thinking about all of the awful, negative things that happen. And thinking about "why me?" can really make that happen. So normally I give myself a quick answer, mumbling something about how life isn't fair and how God never promised He'd make it easy, but He did promise to always be here for me and isn't that enough? And then I run like hell the other way, away from the dark side. And yet it keeps coming back. Why me? Why me? Why me? Why did I have to be a strong person? Why did Jameson have to suffer on this earth? Why did you have to do this to Hubs? To Little Man? Why did you tear our family apart so we can see the brokenness and pain and not our Jameson anymore? Why?

I've never let it sink in quite like this before. It stings. It hurts. It makes me want to vomit. And it doesn't bring me any closer to answers; instead the hole just feels bigger and J feels even farther away. I don't want to purposefully walk away from love, to forget about sunshine and happiness, to make the choice to be sad.

I have prayerfully thought about this and asked God to help me with this; instead of banishing that little question from my mind, I feel like I have been hearing it more frequently. But not quite the same way. And I much prefer this way. "Why me?" isn't inherently a bad thing to ask. Not when I start thinking about it with the blessings in my life. Why me? Why me? Why me? Why did you chose to love me? Why am I so lucky to have a house? And food? And clothes? And the best husband in the world? And two amazing boys? Why me? Who am I to deserve the wonderful friends and family in my life?

 Why me? Suddenly that little question doesn't seem quite so dangerous. I like to look around in wonder, to see the stars at night, to hear loons calling on a glassy lake, to feel overwhelmed with love and let it sink in; the immense awe and pleasure that comes with seeing and feeling God's blessings in my life is matchless. Why me? Sure, it will still be there in the dark and sad times; but that same question that has the power to pull me down also has the power to lift me back up.

Baby Steps

I wish there was just one right way to do this. I just don't know what I'm doing and I'm trying to do things the right way for us, but it is going to be hard no matter what. On a daily and hourly basis, Little Man is what gets me through. When I can't figure out what I should be doing, I try to think about whether or not I'm doing right by him. On my birthday we stopped by the mall and rode the little train. Thursday we played cranes and trucks and made ziplines for the barrel of monkeys. Yesterday we tried a playdate in the morning. That was really hard. It is hard to meet someone new and have them ask if I am Jameson's mom because while they don't know me, they know the situation. And I think someone may have called Little Man Jameson more than once so we left early. We can't live in a bubble, but new things are hard. New people are hard. I know we need to keep going and living and exploring the world; as much as I sometimes want to, we cannot just hit fast-forward until we are reunited with our J. That would NOT be doing right by Little Man. Nor would it honor Jameson. I just wish I knew how to do this the right way.

We came home and I cooked. Cooking and baking seem to really help me out. I made meatballs.

Lots and lots of meatballs. Turkey and wild rice meatballs. To go in soup. Spicy, chipotle soup.

Soup is good for the soul. And cooking is good for my heart.

I don't know why I did what I did next, but I did it. It may have partly been motivation from the book Too Many Toys. It may partly have been my desire to actually begin to organize my house. We moved in just two weeks before J got sick, so we never really finished unpacking. And I know I'd have to do it sometime, so why not bite the bullet now. As least the first bullet, because I think there will be many. I packed up all J's diapers. Every cover has a memory of my sweet boy. Like this one.

He knew how to rock a diaper, that is for sure. So it was difficult to put them away. I'm not getting rid of anything. But that doesn't mean Little Man's room needs to be packed with stuff either. It was a hard thing to do and I'm sad about it but think it was the right thing for Little Man, too. Baby steps.

Little Man is still having a hard time sleeping at night. We've had a few nights where he has successfully slept all night in his own bed, but more nights than not are like last night; he started off okay in his own bed and sometime in the middle of the night cried about bad dreams and came in our room. Once he comes in our bed the child doesn't sleep. He pulls my hair, pokes Hubs the face, kicks us, talks...I don't know what is so exciting about being in our bed, but he cannot sleep with us. We finally kicked him back out at 7 and he slept until after 10. He really misses his sleepover buddy. Sigh. We'll get there.

I know there isn't one right way to do this. I know that every day will be different. Some days will be better than others. Some days will be spent entirely on my knees asking Jesus to get me through and begging him to kiss my baby for me. Some days will be wonderful and I'll smile and laugh and be happy to be here; the longing for Heaven maybe won't always be this strong. And some days, like yesterday, distractions will get me through. As for today, I'm grateful for football and Big Buck Hunter with my guys.

Birthday

It was just my birthday. I wanted it to be a really fun and special day. I started out with good coffee in the "fancy" mug. And I added whipped cream just because I could.

Notice the sink full of dishes in the background that I ignored all morning.

Little Man slept in so I was able to stay in my jammies and savor my coffee for a really long time. When he got up, he declared it was a fine morning for bacon.

Bacon it was. And maybe a strawberry breakfast bar for Little Man, too. I had already eaten a birthday cookie when he was still sleeping.

After breakfast, we jammed to some good music and played with Legos and rocket ships until the favorite toy could no longer be put off. Big Buck Hunter. Uncle N is to thank for this sweet gem. Normally, I am totally against video games, especially at Little Man's age; I still cringe if he watches more than one PBS show a day. I probably should have told Uncle N that Little Man is much too young for a video game, especially one that promotes shooting animals with guns. But, seriously, it is so much freaking fun to play! We all love it. And if you choose to judge me, so be it, but I think you should try to game once first.

After we slayed a few bucks, we had to get dressed and head out. I had to get a flu shot and go grocery shopping for dinner and cake ingredients. While I was getting ready, I noticed this for the first time.

Do you see it? Gray hair! And not just a pretty silver strand. Oh no, this is that wiry, curly, I-will-not-be-tamed type. Very fitting on my birthday. I contemplated yanking it. Thought about how long it will be before I can afford to use a salon for haircuts and dye jobs. I know myself well enough to not try to do it myself at home. And yes, Hubs is the family barber. But back to the gray...there were two of them there, side by each, looking rather rebellious and proud of themselves for choosing my birthday to show themselves. And I looked at them and smiled. They have got to be a birthday gift from J; I earned those silver strands over the past few months and I will wear them proudly. At least until I can get my hair done.

For dinner, we had homemade Juicy Lucys and sweet potato fries. I found a recipe online and prayed that that they would be at least half as good as The Nook's Lucys. And they were awesome! If you've never tried one, come visit me and I'll make you one sometime. With Hub's homebrew on tap, my love of cooking, and Big Buck Hunter in the living room, my house has officially become my favorite pub.

As if that wasn't enough fun for one day, we had birthday cake. Little Man and Hubs both watched as I sang to myself. If you know my boys, that shouldn't be any surprise. And I blew out the candles and sliced open the happiest cake that ever was. Seriously. Not only did it taste great, but it just made me smile.

I ran out of frosting and was too lazy to make more, but next time I'll get it all covered.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes and phone calls. I am still avoiding the phone like the plague, but the voice mails are nice. It was a bittersweet day; I miss my Jameson so much and thought about him all day. He would have loved the cake. I sure hope I can bake in heaven so I can make him one when I get to go home, too.