Crappy Anniversaries

Two years ago I tucked my boys into their beds for the last time.  I heard them goofing around and laughing together for the last time.  I don't remember the night much.  I don't know if I stopped to cherish their playful before-bed-banter or if I was just tired and annoyed that they were staying up much too late when we had to all get up so early in the morning.  I'm sure I was preoccupied with packing up the diaper bag with changes of clothing for J, snacks and toys to entertain Little Man during J's routine hernia repair surgery, and getting directions off the computer on which route to take and where to park at the hospital.

Tomorrow morning I'll remember how two years ago was the last time I ever heard my sweet boy laugh.  It was two weeks before his third birthday.  He loved Toy Story and he loved dinosaurs and on an impulse two days earlier I had bought him a T-Rex flashlight.  I hid it from Daddy so he wouldn't get mad over the frivolous purchase.  We brought it to the hospital and I can still see him in the hospital gown, running in circles opening and closing Rex's mouth and laughing.  He was so happy.  So vibrant.

And then the nurses took him back for his hernia repair.  And I waited.  And waited.  And the surgeon came in and told me they had some problems with the intubation and was I sure he wasn't sick?  And then he had to stay for observation because his oxygen wouldn't come up.  So we waited.  And waited some more, watching cartoons in a recovery room.  I didn't have a signal on my phone and the phone in the room was only for local calls so I couldn't call Hubs from the room.  I used the lobby phone and left him a message to come.  And then a new doctor came in and said he needed chest x-rays.  He had pleural effusions and one lung was almost completely collapsed.  My sister-in-law picked up Little Man and I started to really freak out about what was happening and panicking that Hubby wasn't here to help me understand and make the right decisions.  He arrived just before we went to the PICU for the first of many chest tubes.

Tomorrow is the two year anniversary of all hell breaking loose in our lives.  Tonight marks the two year anniversary of the last time we all slept under the same roof.  And the next four months hold nightmarish anniversary after nightmarish anniversary that I'd rather not remember, except that it was precious time with my precious boy. 

The scars are cracking and bleeding a little more tonight.  We all miss him so much.  We talk about him and remember him and smile and laugh and it is good and terrible all together.  And the clock keeps taking us farther and farther away from him.  It's getting harder and harder to picture how it would be if he were still here.  Harder and harder to picture my family all as one.  And my heart breaks and bleeds a little more.  There is no such thing as moving on, but we do have to keep moving.  It's just that instead of J moving with us, there is a hole along for the ride.  A big, empty space where sunshine used to reign. 

Grilling

Cooking in a new kitchen is always a bit of an adventure.  Some things are better, some are worse.  I'm really missing my huge kitchen with storage galore up north.  But I am a master at fitting things into small spaces.  I'm also surprised by how much I miss my gas range.  The whole time we were up there, I silently cursed it for being so difficult to clean and thought about how much I hoped for glass top stove again.  And now I have a glass top and all I can think of is how great it was to be able to shake a pot on the gas.  The grass is always greener somewhere else, isn't it?

One of the biggest cooking adventures of the summer is learning how to use my grill.  I'm not a great griller; typically grilling to me means marinading some meat or putting together Lucys and then handing off the raw tray to Hubs.  A short time later, dinner is magically done and we eat.

Last summer we had a million chicken legs in the freezer that I bought on sale and needed to use up before we moved.  Hubs was working late so I threw them in BBQ sauce and put them on the grill.  How hard can it be?  Okay people, I didn't even know how to read my grill's temperature settings.  Or I am just really, really dumb.  Because I threw those legs slathered in sweet BBQ sauce on the flaming grill on HIGH.  Soon the grill wasn't the only thing flaming.  Those legs ignited quickly.  I gasped, not unlike the crazy old guy does in Back To The Future when the model starts on fire.  Then I turned the grill too low and a half hour later when I took them off, they were charred and chewy on the outside and raw on the inside.  Not quite what I had in mind for dinner that night.  I think we ended up eating pinto beans out of a can.

On top of my inability to grill, I also wanted to add veggies to the challenge.  We don't eat a lot of meat and we love to eat veggies.  Particularly roasted veggies.  But as I've already said, it is waaayyyy too hot to use the oven.  So, this summer, my big kitchen adventure is to make tasty vegetable-heavy meals on the grill.  I'm doing alright.  So far we've had grilled eggplant parmesan, stuffed bell peppers, and loads of beets and sweet potatoes.  Yum!  Hubby has also grilled up a number of sausages and burgers and lucys.  And this weekend we are going to try pizza on the grill.  I'm excited.  Feel free to share any of your great veggie grilling ideas! 

This grilling adventure is fun.  And do you know the absolute best part about grilling?  The clean up!  No pots or pans.  Not a lot of prep bowls.  Usually just a cutting board and a tray.  Which is great because my dishwasher is here is only a half dishwasher.  We can usually fit in Little Lady's bottles and the dinner plates and that.is.it.  Doing dishes is my LEAST favorite household chore.  Okay, maybe folding laundry is worse, but I really despise doing dishes.  And every night I find myself standing at the sink looking out at the chain link fence and the garage siding and thinking about what God wants me to learn by doing all these dishes.  This is a refining process for me and I hope I get out of it what I'm supposed to.

I made these for breakfast last weekend.  Pinterest is so much fun!

They are black forest pancakes.  Chocolate pancakes, covered in a fresh cherry sauce and whipping cream.  Surprisingly, my chocoholics both decided they don't like chocolate pancakes; Little Man refused to eat them, but he did eat the cherries and whipped cream.  I thought they we great and I'm usually the one who doesn't eat chocolate.  Or at least I was before Little Lady was born.  Now I can't seem to get enough; she's made me a "real" woman, I guess. 

Alright, off to make some raspberry lemonade and strawberry cupcakes with Little Man.  Tonight is Ladies Night with my sister-in-laws and mother-in-law.  We are having dessert and drinks at my place and then heading out for a crazy night of BINGO.  I can't wait.  Have a great weekend, friends! 

Unpacking

It seems every box and bag I open has some memory of my boy in it.  Some memories make me smile, some make me cry.  All of them make me miss him so much and my heart just hurts a little more this month.  For the past year we have lived in a furnished vacation home and I feel like I'm unpacking some of my grief with the boxes that have been stored away since we left a year ago. 

And we have so much stuff we will never use again; it drives me batty.  Because everything contains memories, or, at the very least, significance.  We needed it because we had Jameson.   And now we don't.  And the ever-practical-and-always-moving gypsy in me can't handle keeping things around that we don't need.  And my heart just can't take looking at the stack of third birthday presents that were never opened and played with.  Every cell of my being longs to trade the stuff for the boy.  Oh God, how I want him back.  But I can't make that trade.  I can't have him back.  It just totally blows.  I don't even know how else to write it.  There are not words in this world that are powerful enough to describe my sadness and longing.

I'm not overly sentimental with his stuff.  There are some things that I will keep forever.  His blankey.  His Spiderman sneakers that he wore to the hospital and should have worn home that crappy August afternoon before all hell broke loose.  His Irish Prince T-shirt.  A few toys that make me smile because they made him smile.  But stuff in general doesn't do it for me.  Other than pictures, I think I could walk away from everything I own with a shrug and an oh well.  Because I've already lost something that really matters.  And let me tell you, stuff doesn't really matter.  It doesn't.

So, I've got all this stuff that I don't need and somebody else probably does.  I'm trying to maximize the feel-good return on the donations and bless people with special needs as much as possible.  The books and Down Syndrome stuff is all going to a brand new GiGi's Playhouse in the Twin Cities.  And maybe some toys will go to them, too.  The birthday gifts that still have tags will go to the hospital for other sick kiddos.  Some of the used stuff will go to a garage sale benefit for a friend's sweet girl.  My Jameson will give lots of smiles to other kids.

Sigh.  I'm sitting on the floor trying to process all of this and so much more and I've got the most smiley, happy girl rolling around next to me, squealing and tooting up a storm.  Hahaha.  She is Grace and a balm for my broken heart.  Right now she's chewing on the T-Rex Jameson had with him in his hospital bed.  Sometimes her little fingers wrap around the tail the same way his did and it is hard to breathe.  I imagine it makes him smile down on us.  My happiness and sadness are all intertwined in these moments.

Ah, and now it is time to dry my eyes and feed little mouths.  Happy Saturday.   

Whirlwind

Whew!  My head is still spinning, but I wanted to say hi and let you know I haven't forgotten about this blog here.  The past few weeks have been such a whirlwind!  We really enjoyed every last ounce of the lake.  Swimming, fishing, walking the dirt road, sunrises and sunsets...  It was such a lovely last week.

We moved back to the Cities just over a week ago.  Little Lady cried when we hit the suburban sprawl.  I was right there with her on that one.  We are missing the serenity of living in the country, but we'll survive.  Our new house is probably a third the size of the lake house and we have probably two-thirds more stuff.  Clearly we did this the wrong way.  I need to have another garage sale.

This past Sunday Little Lady and her cousin were baptized.  My parents came and up and stayed in a hotel so the kids could swim in a pool.  It was super fun.  My brother came up, too, and he brought me a tres leche cake.  I'm having it for breakfast as I type.  Right now, I'm spending all my free time unpacking way too many boxes and looking for a job. 

Happy Tuesday! 

Super Fun Week

Holy Cannoli, have we been having fun!  The weather has been unbelievably awesome, people are visiting,  and we are carpe dieming the crap out of it.  Just had to share some of the fun with you!

The weather is a little cooler today; it is great for cleaning up, relaxing, and trying to run off some of those blueberry caramel rolls.  Happy Monday!

Soaking It Up

We have one month left up here in paradise.  One month left to enjoy the lake for all it's worth.  Then we move back to a teeny house on a postage stamp lot in The Cities for eleven months.  Then Hubby graduates and who knows where we go, but that is a story for another day.
The story today is how we only have one month left at the lake.  Little Man is now done with school, Little Lady is awake much more, Hubs is maxing out his vacation days and I am soaking it all in as much as I can.  So instead of doing a lot of blogging and computer time, I'm doing a lot of fishing with Little Man, snuggling on the deck with Little Lady, and listening to the loons call goodnight in the hot tub with Hubs. 

We'll be crying for sure when we leave, but until then...

Getting Away

Yesterday Hubs took Little Lady and handed me a paddle after dinner.  I smiled at him in thanks for this gift, grabbed my fishing rod and tackle box and pushed off the sandy beach.  As I settled in on the life-jacket covered cooler functioning as a seat, I smiled again.  With every stroke of the paddle, I fell more in love with the lake, the setting sun, the peace of being out on the water.

It was a fine night, with almost no breeze.  The water was calm and clear.  The sky was a beautiful shade of gold as the sun slowly set before me.  As I silently threw my line out I could her Hubs groaning about the spit up landing on his neck and I smiled again.  I watched the ducks fly overhead, quacking almost as loudly as Little Man calling my name over and over again from the dock.  Still so close to home, yet a whole world away.

 

These short little get-aways are so needed, so treasured.  Time to be alone with my own thoughts.  Time with nothing to do.  No chins to wipe, dinners to cook, laundry to fold.  No emails to check, bills to pay, garbage to take out.  Just me and a paddle and the hope of a tug on the line.  

I only stayed out for 20 minutes or so before I completely knotted the line and went to trade the tangled mess for the pukey baby.  She smiles more, so it was a good trade.  It feels good to get away and better to come back.  

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.  Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.  The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."  ~John Muir