Dear Grampa

Dear Grampa,

Today, it's your turn to be remembered. It's been seven years since you died. Seven (!), where does the time go? I miss you, and I wish your great-grand-kids had a change to get to know you.

I think my "problem" with grieving is that I've always done it alone. Yes, there have been people there who have tried to comfort me, but...I shut down, I pull away, I hide. And, that hasn't worked out so well. I think by talking about you and Gramma, whether on the blog or in person, by sharing with others, by remembering...it seems to help a bit. I don't think I'll ever miss you less, but talking helps me feel understood, validated. It reminds me that I'm not alone, that I'm connected, that other people still miss you (or another loved one) as much as I do. And by sharing, it helps keep your memory alive. I don't ever want you or Gramma to be forgotten.

I remember Friday afternoons with you. You'd give my brother and me a weekly allowance, and you'd bring us to Newport Creamery and let us get whatever we wanted (I always got a cone of strawberry ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, or a sundae of strawberry ice cream, strawberry topping, and whipped cream...still one of my "comfort" foods). Gramma always wondered why your weekly spending money disappeared so fast.

I remember trips to the library. You'd drop my brother (J) and me off, while you waited in the car. J would take a long time, and I'd end up sitting with you in the car for a while after I picked out my books, and before J came out. While we waited, we'd play games. We'd watch cars going by, and see who could find license plates from the most states; we'd count the number of cars of a certain color and see who counted the most. You always made passing the time fun.

I remember Friday night sleepovers with you and Gramma. I remember playing word searches with you - we'd each do a page on opposite sides of your book, and see who finished first - I always wondered if you let me win all the time (even though you said you didn't). I remember playing cribbage with you. We'd stay up late watching Nick at Nite, and we'd watch a few shows in the morning too...shows like MASH, I Love Lucy, Mr. Ed, Tom and Jerry, and Popeye.

I remember going through old photographs with you, and listening to you talk about your family tree. I wish I had listened to your stories more closely, and I wish I wrote more things down.

I remember your pastel blue car, and how you'd proudly paint it yourself every year. You used a paint brush and a can of paint...by the time you got rid of that car, the paint must have been an inch thick! I always thought you were a very handy, resourceful guy...until I realized a few years later that painting your car with a brush wasn't exactly the "right" way to do it...lol.

I remember your driving. You drove us around a lot and I was a tad embarrassed. You were *that* grandfather who drove extra slow and didn't stay in your own travel lane. You didn't understand why people sped past you...you said that you'd always catch up to them at the next stop light. And, if there were two lanes of traffic, you'd drive right in the middle of them both, on top of the white dotted line...you said that it was the best place to drive -- far away from any pedestrians, and far away from oncoming traffic.
I remember you picking me up from school often. My mom has said that picking us up from school was your best time with us, and if she told you that she was picking us up, you'd get grouchy and act like a kid that didn't get their way. You brought me to karate a few days each week. And as I got older, you'd keep telling me that if I ever needed a ride or anything, that I could always call you.

I remember you paying for my karate lessons when I first started. I am so thankful for that, and I often wonder what my life would be like if I never started taking lessons. I wouldn't have met my husband, we wouldn't have been tested for black belt together, we would never have started dating, we would never have gotten married or had kids, I wouldn't have met my many friends and mentors from the karate school through the years, etc. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I remember you working a lot over the winter. You worked for the state, and when snowstorms came you were one of the men who plowed the roads. If it was a bad storm, sometimes you'd work overtime for several days straight.

I remember your mother, my great-grandmother. Your were such a mama's boy. You drove her around whenever she needed, you spent time with her whenever you could. You loved her. And you were the one to find her dead. After she died, even when you were smiling, you always looked as if a part of you were lost. I was 11 when she passed away. I don't really remember her wake or her funeral...but I remember seeing my grandfather's world get torn apart. I saw my strong, proud, stubborn grandfather become fragile; I saw you cry.

I remember your red pickup truck. It was a Toyota, and you drove that thing for so long. I can't remember how many miles it had on it, but it was some ridiculously high amount - I want to say 400,000, but I might be wrong.

I remember Christmas one year. You would only wear clothes from the Salvation Army. I'm not sure who it was (Aunt B, Uncle B, Aunt L, my mom, or a combination of everyone), but they bought you new clothes, took all the tags off, and convinced you they bought them from the Salvation Army so that you'd wear them.

I remember stopping in at your job with you, even after you retired. The guys loved seeing you. You retired maybe...20 years ago? I forget. But to this day, I still see some of your former co-workers around town and wave. I haven't had a chance to talk to them in a while (I usually see them in passing - driving one of the big trucks beside me, or coming out of the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru, etc), but still. You must have been a pretty memorable man for your co-workers from 20 years ago to still recognize your granddaughter.

I remember you forgetting more and more in the years before you died. Alzheimer's, mixed with hearing troubles...not a good combination. I remember showing you my ultrasound pictures at the nursing home when I was pregnant with R. I remember you kept referring to her as a "he" - you kept forgetting that she was going to be a girl.

I remember hearing how your stubborn-ness was a challenge to the nurses. If you didn't want to do something, there was no way they'd make you do it.

I remember seeing you and Gramma together. I don't think I ever remember seeing you two hold hands or kiss, until you were in the nursing home. The happiness and excitement on your face when she was affectionate...I'll remember that smile forever.

I remember bringing R to the nursing home to meet you when she was only a couple months old, your first great-grand-child. I have a few pictures of you just looking at her and holding her little hand, that I'll always treasure.

I remember seeing you at the hospital near the end. You were hooked up to a ventilator, and had so many other tubes and wires coming out of you. I was happy that I could see you again, and that I was able to say good bye, but at that point, it seemed like you were already gone. You couldn't smile, you didn't open your eyes, you didn't squeeze my hand, you were just resting. My mom said your numbers improved a bit while I visited, but I didn't notice you showing any reaction to me being there. I hated seeing you like that. My once warm, fun-loving, stubborn, lively grandfather lay motionless, being kept alive by the cold beeping and buzzes of machines. I wish I had visited you more often.

I remember your funeral. Your funeral was the first time I had seen military funeral honors. The sounds of the rifles shooting and the bugle playing, the silence as your flag was folded, the respect as your casket was saluted, Gramma's tears as she was handed your flag...

You and Gramma were my rock. You were my source of stability and peace when my life often seemed so unstable and chaotic. I cannot thank you two enough for the love you shared, for the guidance, for the memories. You are a big reason that I am the person I am today, and I hope to be as amazing of a person as you each were. Thank you both so much. I love you, and I miss you.

The morning rush

I was recently asked "What takes you so long to get ready in the morning?" And it got me thinking, as I always do, "Well, what DOES make it take so long? Is there some way to get things done faster so I can get more sleep?" I'm an auditor - I plan, I evaluate, I pay attention to detail, I take corrective actions, I improve efficiencies - it's what I do.

So...this morning, I paid attention to what exactly I do in the mornings, and how long it takes.

4:00 to 4:20 -- hit snooze. Oops.
4:20-ish -- Z wakes up. I get Z a bottle, get A to feed Z in bed so I can get up and get ready (after the bottle, Z and A were back to sleep in about 5 minutes)
4:25-4:35 -- hair, make-up, teeth-brushing, etc
4:35-5:00 -- towel dry dishes, put dishes away, dry and put bottles together (we use the ventaire bottles, and there are 6 frigging pieces for each bottle...oye), make breakfast, make coffee, pick up floor (Z had a bit of fun tearing apart the cabinets last night and I was too tired to clean it up then...lol)
5:00 - 5:30 -- pump (i'm still breastfeeding and pump in the mornings), and while pumping I eat breakfast, check facebook / blogs / email / etc
5:30 - 6:00 -- store pumped milk, wash pump parts, stock up pump bag for work, filter water and fill up water bottles for the day, get a few snacks together for work, pack up work laptop, get dressed (I had clothes that didn't need ironing today, time-saver!), stock up diaper bag and R's karate bag for tonight, grab shoes / jacket / purse / keys, load the bazillion bags of stuff into the car.

If I'm up by 4:30, and if I don't need to take care of any wide awake little people, I'm usually out the door on time at 6. But, if I hit snooze too often and get a late start, or if one / two / three kids decide to wake up early and need lots of attention, I'm screwed.

I know there are a few things I could do the night before. Like dry / put away the dishes, pick up the floor, and get the diaper / karate bags ready. But...that's a lose-lose situation. I either lose sleep at night by staying up later getting things ready for the morning, or lose sleep in the morning because I need to get up earlier to get everything done then.

So, I can't really think of any ways to save time. I get up early, go to bed late-ish, I'm always tired, but...I do what I need to do, and it works. And if it doesn't work, there's coffee.

I love coffee. Mmmmmmmmm...  :)

My yesterday morning

I started this blog post yesterday, but didn't get around to finishing it until tonight. Such is my life. But anyways...

Yesterday morning I started the day off by waking up at 5:15. My alarm goes off at 4:00 or 4:30, depending how ambitious I am the night before. But yesterday morning, I didn't even realize I hit snooze. You know you're exhausted when you don't remember hearing the buzzer go off once, let alone the 8 times I evidently whacked the snooze button. Oops. (On a side note, I really need to stop bringing work home with me. And Z really needs to re-learn how to sleep all night long.) So, needless to say, I was running a bit late getting out the door. I had to go to a different site for work, so that meant I had an hour-and-a-half to two-hour drive ahead of me.

But getting out the door 20 minutes late set me up to have perfect views of the most amazing sunrise. Timing is everything. The sky was pink and purple when I pulled out of the driveway. By the time I got to the bridge, the entire sky in front of me was orange, pink, and purple. And by the time I got to the second bridge, the sky was a bright golden yellow-orange, with shades of orange, pink, and purple fading throughout the sky, and the reflection on the water was glowing. The sky and water looked like a beautiful photograph from a magazine or something. If I had left on time, I'm sure the sunrise would have been beautiful, but I wouldn't have been able to see it while driving over two bridges; I would have only seen a sliver of the sky through the tall trees lining each side of the highway, instead of being surrounded by it. Being surrounded by the colorful glowing sky helped me get into a much better mindset. Instead of being frazzled and rushed, I felt peaceful and grounded.

And, a little further along on my drive, I saw a rainbow. I can't remember the last time I saw a rainbow, it's been a while. I'm not even sure where it came from - it didn't rain all day yesterday, and the sky was mostly clear, yet there it was. It wasn't a full rainbow, it was just a segment, hovering brightly between two clouds. Rainbows always give me a sense of magic and hope and inspiration, I feel like anything is possible. No matter how bad a storm is, there is a light at the end of the tunnel; there is hope and beauty and healing and a world of possibilities.

Along the drive, I got thinking of my friend-in-a-box Mali (http://musingsfrombedlam.wordpress.com/). She's on day 20 of hospital bedrest, trying to stay pregnant for as long as possible (she's 27 weeks tomorrow!). And once I got to work I had a team meeting, where I learned that my boss was just diagnosed with cancer. I can't even imagine how difficult things are for either of them. But, I'm sending all the peacefulness, grounded-ness, hope, healing, magic, happy thoughts, sunrises, and rainbows I can their way.

Meet the Family!

I'm still new to this whole blogging thing, but I figure readers who haven't met me will probably want to know who the heck I'm talking about at some point. So, introductions might come in handy.  :)

My husband

My husband A, isn't a fan of having his whole life plastered on the web for all to see, which is understandable. So for now, here's a pic of A, in smiley-face-ninja form.

My daughter R

At 7 years old, R is the oldest of the three. She loves school, and recently started second grade. She's sweet and caring, sometimes surprising us with her good deeds or thoughtful ideas. She's creative - she enjoys writing, music, and any type of crafty projects. Last time I asked, she said that she mostly wants to be a song writer when she grows up (and a teacher, a marine biologist, a librarian, and a mother to about 10 kids). She takes karate and dance classes. She absolutely LOVES reading (she read close to 10,000 pages this summer alone!). She's a very sentive, emotional girl (which makes me a bit nervous for her teenage years...lol).


My daughter L

At 3 years old, L is the middle of the three. She is a wild child, and has the most adorable trouble-making grin. She's a big ball of energy, a quick thinker, and an instigator. She's got a passion for body art, and she can often be found glueing her belly button, coloring her armpits, or covering her entire face in purple make-up. (Yes, seriously). She recently started taking karate and dance classes, just like her big sister.


My son Z

At 9 (and a half!) months old, Z is the youngest (and last!) child. He's got an adorable toothless smile, and he loves being mobile. His cute little army crawl has turned into full-on speed crawling, and he can pull up to standing and walk while holding on to just about anything. He loves emptying the kitchen cabinets, climbing into the fridge the second someone opens it up, and sneaking off into another room the moment you turn away. He enjoys laughing when told "no", spitting out his veggies, and making diaper changes near impossible with acrobatic flips, twists, and turns. He's generally a happy, easy-going little guy, but tries his best to keep us on our toes.

Here's a pic of the three of the kids together (from 3 or 4 months ago...they're even bigger now!)