Memorial

Today I went to the memorial for our next door neighbor.  He died in an accident on his grandparents ranch last Thursday.  He is the second of three boys and he was only 10 years old.

We've been living here for almost a year and I'm sad and a little embarrassed to say that we don't know the family very well.  We say hellos and exchange small talk.  I often make a mental note to get to know the neighborhood better.  Most have lived here the last decade, all of those kids growing up together, and I see the tragedy reflected in everyone's eyes.  I'm still reeling from the news.

I feel shock, tears, anger and sadness.  I play with Peanut, we eat our dinner, we go through the bedtime routine, and I cannot stop thinking that 10 feet away their family is in a living nightmare.  It's any parents nightmare.  How do you survive everyday without your child?

I want to be able to help.  I want to give them their privacy.  I wish desperately that they could have their little boy back.  Every day I'm reminded of something that they won't get to share with their boy.  I think of holidays, graduations and weddings.  I think of breakfast, baseball and passing by a room to see him reading inside.  He was just about to start the fifth grade.  I think of Peanut, and the way he smells just before bed, as I step into the pantry to cry.  Mostly I think about that little boys mother.

In the backyard there is the low rumble of talking.  It comes in soothing tones or perhaps the murmur that comes when you lack the energy to speak in more than a whisper.  The pain is so raw and deep, I can feel it through the walls.  Or perhaps I'm projecting my own visions of myself if I were to lose Ryder.  I think to myself that they will never be OK.  Never.  They may survive and they may find happiness, but they have been robbed of so much.  Of their little boy, of the future they could have had, of an innocent childhood for their 2 surviving boys.  I'm angry and heartbroken simultaneously.  I pray that their family will make it through this intact, or as intact as you can be when you're missing one of your pack.

Today we listened to his father read something written by his son.  It was a list of things that this little boy foresaw in his future.  When I am 20 years old, when I am 30 years old, when I am 50 years old, when I am 75 years old....  it made me laugh and cry.

The church was packed full of people who loved him.  People he inspired with his smiles and kindness shared stories of him.  The little boy full of "What if's"  had a big smile, a big imagination and a big heart.  There were kids wearing jerseys from teams they were on together and teachers talking about his eagerness to learn.

I don't know how to wrap up this post.  I could say something about cherishing every day with your loved ones.  I could talk about the gift of children.  Maybe I should just ask everyone to pray for this family.  Send good vibes.  Bow your head.  His loss is tragic, unfair and awful.  I wish it were also untrue.

n t

Summertime

East meets West, the Cousin edition

We spent this past weekend on a much needed vacation in San Diego.

4 whole days visiting with family that flew in from as far as China and Boston for B's cousin's wedding.  The highlight for Peanut was spending time with all his own cousins.

I've been negligent in downloading pictures this summer, and the result is 969 new pictures for me to sort through.  Instead of doing anything in an order that makes sense, I'm going to start with the last outing of the weekend.

We had dinner at awesome Point Loma Seafoods which sits just next to the docks.
It was a bit grey but the weather seemed so fitting to the scene around it.
Besides, I don't mind a bit of grey after a day in scorching SeaWorld sun.

I wasn't really sure how dinner would go considering the only nap that day was 35 min at SeaWorld.

Apparently a dinner of a crab cake sandwich and clam chowder is plenty to keep him happy.

Seriously though, the crab cakes are fantastic!

Meet Dylan!  Dylan and his family flew in from Boston and rented a house in Mission Beach that we used as base all weekend.  He and Peanut are 3 months apart and were fast friends as soon as they met.

I'm already fantasizing about a trip to Boston.

Plus, Dylan's mommy is an ER doctor in Children's Hospital Boston which is pretty much the best thing ever when you have 2 wild boys galavanting around.

I was like, don't worry about Peanut, Katie can save him if he falls down those concrete stairs!

My father-in-law commented the other day that trying to get all the kids to look at the camera for a picture is like trying to herd cats.

I'd say that's pretty much accurate.

So.tired.

And goofy.

Peanut has taken a sudden interest in my camera.

I'm assuming because it's expensive and he feels deep down that he needs to get his hands on it.

He took this picture of his cousin; I think it's pretty good.

Watching these boys together is awesome.

They are at that age where they can actually have conversations,

 and we can still marvel that they are communicating.

Stop growing kid.  Just slow down.

And then we let them run down this dock approximately 184 times.

Everyone needs a buddy to run down a dock with at 8pm on a summer evening.

But this is my absolute favorite of the night.

This picture captures the fun and giggles and squealing and friendship and breathless tromping around, all in one perfect moment.

2 weeks at a time

So I have this problem with patience.  Once I make a solid decision that I want to do something, it must be put into place immediately.  I like to plan.  I like things to happen as soon as I'm ready for them to happen.  Apparently baby-making doesn't run on that kind of schedule.

After the last miscarriage I was in absolutely no hurry to get pregnant again.  I was going to lose 10 lbs to get back down to my pre-Peanut weight.  I was going to work out.  I could not feel comfortable getting pregnant again until we dug ourselves out of debt.  Did I mention the last miscarriage and D & C cost thousands of dollars?  And then both of our vehicles needed work?  And then we found out our taxes were wrong and instead of getting $2500 back we owed $2000?  It was a really fun 2 weeks in which we received all these bills.  After that the panic subsided and we buckled down.

One day I was chatting with a friend via text message, because I often only have 30 seconds at a time to converse with people, and I was explaining why it's hard for me to maintain a pregnancy.  I was talking about my old chemo-fied eggs and how it would be like me trying to get pregnant in my late 40's and it hit me.

I don't have the time to be waiting around for the stars to align.

Sure I need to pay off bills and have more time at home and save more money and lose more weight and eat more leafy greens and align my chi and do all kinds of stuff that I can't think of right now but AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.

So here we are again and I find that despite my great efforts to not be crazy, life is once again broken into 2 week increments.

2 weeks until my period.  Will it come?  Will it not come?  Will it? Will it?  Huh?  Huh?
2 weeks until ovulation.  Then cross your fingers, your eyes and your legs and pray something sticks.
2 weeks to menstruation.  I'm sure it won't come this time.
2 weeks to ovulation.  Go! Go!  Go!
2 weeks to judgement day.  I just know I'm pregnant this month.
2 weeks to baby making time.  Do the words "I'm ovulating" make you want me?
2 weeks of crossing fingers.  Did I shave my legs for this?
2 weeks of impatiently waiting...

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Oh and the pregnancy tests.  I cannot hold on to a pregnancy test without taking it.  Do you know how much those things cost?  Like $10 each!  I'm in the wrong business.

I had to hide the tests from myself, make them hard to reach, try to forget where they are because it's just so easy to take the tests.  I must know!  It says you can detect it 6 days before you even miss your period!

So a good friend of mine got some pregnancy tests from a co-op she belongs to.  They are just the little tests you use at the doctor.  Just dip them in your pee and wish that second line into developing.  I paid less than a quarter a piece.  I feel like I won the lottery.  I had 40 of them.  40!  I'm going to start some black market for pregnancy tests.  I send my friends messages offering them up to people I know who are trying.  But who knows, in 2 weeks I might have blown through the whole batch.

Christmas in July Book Exchange!

We're doing a book exchange over at 
The Bibliophile Support Group!
(which every book lover should join, by the way)

I'm so excited about this.
I love books, I love mail and I love Christmas.
So we decided to combine them all and do a little gift giving for a Christmas in July celebration.  

All you do is send one book to someone and receive one back.
A gift exchange!  
You'll get a new book and the chance to share one of your books with someone else.  It's a win-win.

I love sharing books with people.
I love owning books.
I love giving gifts.
I love getting gifts.
I love helping other people share books and get gifts.
I love rambling in posts because I'm too excited 
to form intelligent sentences.

Just send an email and I'll respond with a few questions that will help us learn a bit more about what you like to read.

After that we'll let you know who you are mailing to and then we can spend our days checking our mailboxes to see if our package has arrived.  

Join the fun!

I hear voices

I watched him closely as we approached the ocean.  It had been nearly a year since we had last played in the sand.  A year to a toddler is a lifetime. I enjoyed the luxury of seeing him rediscover the magic and power of the waves hitting the sand as he listened to the roar of the tide.

There is a voice inside my head.  It is not a conscience, not a little Giminy Cricket, but a narrator.

I have a narrator with me all of the time, for as long as I can remember.

Dawn plays in the backyard after school.  She watches as the sun hits the swing and sings softly as she walks towards the flowers.  She wonders if the fairy dust is still sitting in the highest flower next to the window.



At the risk of sounding slightly schizophrenic, I'm going to tell you about it.

When I was younger the voice was my own, perhaps a way of pretending that life is a stage?  Maybe it was my way of making myself the star of my own show?  I don't know people, I don't know.

My narrator is often describing scenes in my life or scenes I am observing.

When I spent months listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks my narrator was Jim Dale.

She drives in the car thinking wistfully about skipping all her responsibilities, picking up a slice of chocolate motherlode cake, a cup of coffee and spending the day catching up on her reading, surrounded by the smell of parchment and the soft chirping of the birds outside.



See, you could pick up on the HP influence with the thought of parchment.  I'm not even sure what parchment smells like or whether I've ever seen a book full of parchment.

To be honest, I never thought much about it this whole narrator thing.  For all I know all of you have your own narrator.  I'm going to ask B this tonight.  I'll report back to you.

B, do you have your own narrator?  You know, someone that narrates what you are doing?  Well, not like all the time but when you are thinking and it's really quiet or when you are looking back on an event?

He gives me an ever so slightly puzzled look, like the question might be code for something that makes sense.  After just a second he realizes that I'm serious.  

His response was simple:  "No, do you?"

When I told him I did, he nodded and went back to what he was doing.  I don't think it's possible for me to surprise B.




Maybe I should clarify, it's not like this voice is talking constantly.  It just fills up some of the quiet time.  So if you are actually talking to me in person I don't want you to be standing there wondering if I can hear you over the sound of Jim Dale narrating our scene.

I realized that I had this narrator a few years ago when I was mentally composing a blog post about an event that was currently happening.  At that point it seemed more like I was just mentally writing, but thinking back I can always remember doing it.  It's very possible that the more I think about this the crazier I begin to sound.

It happened as I walked out of my very last oncology appointment, as if I was on the outside looking in and describing the scene.

I walked down the hall and opened the door to the waiting room.  I saw anxiety, exhaustion, resignation, patience and sickness in the eyes looking back at me.

I exhaled when I got in the elevator.




Sometimes it's in first person and I'm thinking the scene as if I'm writing it down for you, which I often do.  Other times it's in the third as if the narrator is on the outside describing the scene.

I guess it's a lot like writing.  Many times it's a way for me to mentally write the things that I'm not physically writing.  I always mean to sit down and write but I haven't become disciplined enough to apply myself.  Although I can remember doing this as a child so perhaps none of this makes sense.

Right now my narrator is Barbara Kingsolver in the Appalachian accent she uses to narrate her book Flight Behavior.

Dawn sits and contemplates whether or not to reread or edit her blog post.  She decides not to because she knows that it will never make much sense no matter how she edits it.  She also knows that her 15 minute break in the bedtime routine is almost over.  Dawn wonders why bedtime has to be such a challenge and despairs that it will always be this way.  Little snippets of sanity in a nightly routine of struggle.

Perhaps it's an odd thing, to have a narrator.  It's like The Truman Show or Stranger Than Fiction.

It could be that a great many people have narrators and just never noticed them.  Or I could be slightly insane which would also explain a lot.

Of birds and bugs

Climbing mountains at the park

The other day Peanut and I were in the backyard.  It was one of those gorgeous sunny days and we were watching the birds flock to our fruit trees.  The previously unidentifiable fruit tree of which I will ask advice about at a later time.

He laughed as the birds flew around and I watched him attempt to take off with them.

He jumped, waving his arms around and laughing loudly as the birds took off for safer ground.  Peanut did this repeatedly while I watched with amusement.

He suddenly looked at me in disbelief.  "Mommy, I can't fly."
I could tell he was actually surprised.

"Well, where are your wings and feathers?" I asked.

"I don't have wings.  I can't fly, I'm too little," he said as if he will surely be able to fly when he gets older.

I was having one of those existential mommy moments.  You know those moments?  The ones where you marvel about the existence of you and your little one, at your places on this Earth.  You are amazed to see this little human you helped create.

I was watching his mind whirl over the fact that there was something he could not do and watched as he decided that surely he would be able to do this wonderful, amazing thing when he got a bit bigger.

I watched him as he smiled and ran and giggled and played and I took note of every moment, trying to burn it into my memories.  It is an amazing thing to watch your child exist and learn and grow.

I saw the tiny bug, about the size of a gnat, land on the the bright yellow stool sitting in the middle of the lawn.  His eyes lit up as he discovered this new friend.  Oh how he loves bugs.

In the blink of an eye he was reaching over to it and the sound of me screaming NOOOOOOO! broke the magic of our moment as he smashed it with his finger and stuck it in his mouth.