The New Normal: Day 1

Hello, is this thing on? Are blogs even A Thing anymore? Who knows. I still read Amy and Kim so I know they aren't officially dead...Yet.

So why today to dial up again? Well, life has taken a turn for the weird and somewhat unpleasant and I think perhaps this may be a good outlet for me. It's that or hard drugs, and since I have a kid home with me 24/7, the hard stuff isn't an option.

Yep, Fred now spends all of his time with me. He was essentially thrown out of school, but in the nicest way possible. For the near future, I am his end all be all. I was already most of the things, but now I get to be his teacher as well! Hopefully soon the school will be providing me with some curriculum, but until then my printer is pumping out worksheets by the dozen. At some point (hopefully this week but maybe next) we will meet with some therapeutic elementary school people and decide if that's a good place for him to land. Otherwise the next option is homeschooling with intensive outpatient therapy. In both cases, it's until he's deemed 'well enough' to return to a conventional classroom.

Why, you ask?

MENTAL ILLNESS

Yeah. It sucks enough for adults. Now multiply that amount of suck by at least 459,377,590 and we may possibly hit the range of suckitude when dealing with a mentally ill child. We don't have a definitive diagnosis because he's only 8, and most of the things he seems to be leaning towards are difficult to diagnose in children. Mood disorders and the like. He's awesome for a month, impulsive and violent for a month. Happy. Then not. And he's sizable for a boy of 8, so his impulsive behaviors are leading to more and more significant consequences. Sooooooo NO MORE (regular) SCHOOL FOR FRED.

Help?

Gypsy Life: Day Eighteen

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. All of the stress surrounding my gram's death and our living situation and my husband's absence reached a head and I kind of freaked out. But when I was driving home I saw this cloud formation in front of me on the highway, and I pulled over. 

I just stopped. The kids were firmly plugged into a DVD, so they barely noticed that we were no longer moving. I stared at the light breaking through the clouds, shed a few tears, snapped a picture with my phone, and got back on the road. Driving towards the light, I thought to myself, 'From here on out, it can only get better.'

Today was her burial. Thanks to the world's best babysitter and all-around awesome person Nicole, I was able to leave the kids behind and mourn her without having to worry about if the ipod was charged or if I had brought enough diapers. It was awful, but it was peaceful.

--

And on a completely unrelated and different topic: Tonight? WE OFFICIALLY BECOME HOME OWNERS AGAIN!

Gypsy Life: Day Sixteen

(Yes, yes. I know I missed a day. I was busy mourning and visiting with my brother. Cut me a little slack, will ya!?!)

Sometimes, when I'm sad, I like to pick fights. It's very mature of me, I know. The first time I remember it happening was when my friend Rena died. Instead of just being sad, I got really, really angry at the people who I thought were exploiting her death to get out of gym class. Yeah, so maybe that one girl did deserve it when I screamed in her face, but I also got angry at other kids who were upset. Somehow, I didn't feel like their grief was as valid as mine was, so I became a total psycho. Which landed me in the guidance counselor's office for weekly grief counseling sessions, both solo and in a group setting.

This time around, with almost twenty years of maturity and introspection on my side, I'm doing it again. It's a little different this time, because there aren't many people who have ignited that little spark of rage in me, but it has happened. I'm smart enough to snuff it out, and to avoid any and all places where it may once again flare up, but it's still there.

And so, unfortunately for him, I am really pissed at my husband. For reasons that I honestly believe are beyond his control, he was out at a working dinner on Thursday when she died. Then he left early this morning for a speaking engagement in Tahoe. He gets back tomorrow just in time to miss the first viewing. Then he has to work on Monday, during the funeral. Then he comes home to sign the papers to close on the house and then heads out immediately for another dinner meeting.

I'm so angry that he isn't here that I can barely even look at him when he is. I know he feels awful and isn't trying to hurt me, but because my emotions get so muddled up my brain just goes RAGE RAGE RAGE! I just want to have someone there with me, someone to hold my hand, someone to deal with my unruly kids, someone to take care of me. My parents have each other, my brother's pregnant wife is flying up from Florida tomorrow, and I'm going to be all alone, trying to wrestle my herd of children into submission instead of spending time with my loved ones and remembering my grandmother.

I don't want to be mad at him, really. I'm really hoping that by writing this all out I'll realize how silly it is and get over myself. That way when he does get home, I won't blow up all over him and maybe he can just hold me.

But just in case, take cover.

Gypsy Life: Day Fourteen

My grandma died today.

We knew it was coming. We knew it for months. She was in and out of the hospital at first, and then she was at home on hospice. And then she was in a hospice facility. And finally she went back home for good. It was a rough few days for her, and for my family who was taking care of her, but now it's over.

We went to visit her last Friday at the hospice, when she was a little more alert. I know it's selfish, but I didn't really want to see her if she was suffering and out of it. The kids all saw her, Lucy sang her The Rainbow Connection, and when we were leaving, she opened her eyes and said, 'I love you. I love you all.'

Even though it wasn't in her home, in her chair, I'm so happy that's the final moment I got to have with her.

Gypsy Life: Day One Dozen

These past few gypsy days have been filled with highs and lows. There was the news of the nieces, which was an immeasurable high! Then there was news that the current owners of our new house are suffering some ill fates due to the transitions surrounding the selling of their long-time home, which was sad and frustrating. Then there was news about our closing date that really made me smile! Then there was news about my grandmother that made me (and Sam) cry.

To sum it up? The gypsy life will be over in a weeks time! The bad news? We'll probably be attending a funeral between now and then.

In other news, Simon the-cat-by-which-we-were-shunned, has decided he misses us. Well, something like that at least. After days and weeks of fretting over what to do with our kitty-boy, he took our decision to leave him with our sweet neighbor and spit it back in our faces. Now that we're gone he's gone into full-on attack mode on our neighbor's other cats, and she isn't having it. I don't blame her one bit. So one day next week I'll be driving down to Mo-town, having coffee with my bestie Sara, and then bringing the cat to Pittsburgh. I can't say I'm sad about having him back, but the first time he pukes on our new carpets I may be singing a different tune.

Gypsy Life: Day Five

Today was a day I don't really want to talk about. But in the interest of keeping this series going, I'll try and persevere.

Lucy had a great first day of kindergarten, according to her. She didn't eat her sandwich and I had to throw it away (booooo!) but she claimed that lunch was her favorite part of the day. The entire two hours she was at school while Maggie wasn't, Mrs. Magoo loudly and stompily proclaimed her desire to also be in school. She decried the un-fair-ness of it all, while laying on the floor pounding and kicking and screaming. Let me repeat my earlier statement that I really truly hope our downstairs neighbors work during the day.

As a sidebar, let me tell you about our washer/dryer. First off, I am very and truly appreciative of the fact that we have a washer and dryer in the unit, and don't have to schlep to a laundry mat. HOWEVER! We have at least nineteen children (wait, did I count that right?) and they mostly all require clean laundry most of the time. The stackable apartment washer/dryer combo thingie can hold about six garments before you can't get the lid to shut. Which means I'm doing laundry more that I could have ever, ever imagined. On the plus side, I can fold and put away each load super-quick! Which makes me feel like an awesome housekeeping-type person. To the rescue!

I met and talked with several candidates for babysitting. I am going to reserve commenting more on this, just in case one of them happens to end up being our babysitter, and ends up discovering this blog. Don't take that as a negative, though. I'm mostly hopeful that by the end of the week we'll have some sort of babysitting system loosely in place. Fingers crossed!

Sam just told me that I had to come outside on the deck so that I could take a picture of the falling sky. Christ on a cracker, I love that kid.

One Final Celebration

Today is my grandmother's birthday. A few years ago she was diagnosed with uterine cancer. This was around the time Maggs was born, and while we pretty confident she would make a full recovery we were worried. Luckily, recover she did and since we've moved back to the area we've gotten to spend a lot more time with her and my extended family in general.

A few months ago she started not feeling quite right. Nauseous, tired. She was still making Sunday dinner for everyone, but she wasn't always partaking in it herself.



A few weeks ago she was still well enough to go out to celebrate her sister's 90th birthday. That's my grandma in the middle, with her two remaining sisters.

But after a few more weeks, and a few more doctor's visits, tests, and hospital stays, the truth was staring us all in the face. Her cancer is back, and it's widespread. Six months, if she's lucky.

She's back at home, and we're going up to visit later this afternoon. She's always had a special bond with Maggie (who is named after her) so I decided to work on a photo collage for her. Maybe it's a little sappy or cheesy, but I think she'll love it.

Tick Tock

We've started getting mail for the new owners.

Everything was just fine and dandy. We had vacation, which did a great job of preoccupying me. The weather has transitioned to full-blown summer, which makes me happy in general. The kids have been sweet as pie. Life was good, and any thoughts about changing it was totally off my radar.

And then that damn letter came, and it was like the dam broke. The reality of the whole 'we're moving to West Virginia in less than two weeks' came crashing down on me. And the question of 'why did I just buy a month's worth of groceries at Trader Joe's' also occurred to me. D'oh.

I had to cancel my Y membership. That was a toughie. I've been going to the Y at least four times a week ever since we moved here. I've made some amazing friends, as have the kids. Initiating the termination there makes everything seem more real.

And then the new owners just popped by one day to take some additional measurements in 'their' bedroom. Cue my stifled sob.

And while I'm super excited about moving to our new house and being close to our families, I've had to spend a few hours every day on the phone setting up all of our new utilities, which is so much effing fun I can't even explain! Throw in there a trip to the ER with all three kids due to Lucy smashing her face and maybe you can understand why, occasionally, as in right now, I'm ready to scrap the whole move and just stay put.

Thirteen days.

The Last of It

Today I'm delving into it all and then saying goodbye, so skip it if you want to. I won't be offended.

I never thought I would be in this position. I'm an arrogant bitch, aren't I? I've been so cavalier about my pregnancies before, announcing them only hours after I saw the two blue lines. The only reason I didn't blog about being pregnant with Sam right away was because I hadn't told my family yet, and even though they didn't read the blog then I didn't know that for sure. I really wanted to tell my parents face-to-face, so I kept mum about it here until they knew.

(BTW, did I ever tell you that story? It involved a lunch box and an ultrasound picture inside of a zip lock bag. One of my best orchestrated moments ever!)

So why didn't I jump right online and start blabbing last Monday when I first got a positive test? Because deep inside my heart of hearts I knew something wasn't right. I didn't tell my parents or friends until the next day when I got a second positive, but I still felt some kind of reservation. I told SOB and my mother, but the general consensus was that I was still reeling from the shock. And honestly? I was. Here I was, about to have four kids, the youngest only 15 months behind Maggie, as we're planning an interstate move. I probably couldn't even spell the work SHOCK last week.

But then Wednesday rolled around. I took another test that morning because I had forgotten to photograph the one from Tuesday, and while the second line was there it was maybe just a shade lighter than the second line on Tuesday's test. It was early, I told myself, and any line, no matter how dark or light equaled BABY. Besides, I have a stockpile of pregnancy tests so I'd just wait until next week when I was sure to get a clear and present POSITIVE to take the photo.

Thursday I called and scheduled my first OB appointment. Things were now moving into 'real' territory, and my early hesitation to shout the news from the rooftops was waning.

Friday morning I went to the Y and spread the word far and wide that Maggie was going to be a big sister. Then I came home and wrote about it here. That night as we laid in bed I thought ahead 35 weeks, imagining the moment when a sweet, slippery newborn would be placed on my chest and I would see my baby for the first time.

And that was the same though that flashed into my head at 4:40am when I saw the blood. That I was seeing my baby for the first time. The only time. Smaller and on a square of toilet paper instead of in my arms.

For the next two hours I wished and wished for it to stop. I stayed on my left side, and didn't go to Maggie when she cried around 5:30am because nursing stimulates uterine contractions. Every twenty minutes I would gingerly get out of bed and go to the bathroom with my breath caught in my throat. Finally it became clear that this was happening, and it wasn't going to stop. The rest of the house was starting to come alive. It was time to start dealing with things like waffles and coffee and clean underpants and vitamins. Thank god for that, because now I had something else to think about.

I told my parents, and they awesomely took on the awful task of telling the rest of my family. And my sister-in-law Allison did the same for SOB's side of the family. I spent the day trying to go about as normal, but occasionally I would be overcome with sadness and start weeping.

Through everything SOB was perfect. Perfect. It was as if he could read my mind. He knew when to leave me alone and he knew when to seek me out. He knew that I needed to go out and take my cousin's engagement photos. He knew I needed a night to myself on Sunday. He listened to me complain and said all of the right things at all of the right times. Somehow, this whole crummy experience has made me realize just how much I love the SOB.

Oh, and these little buggers.

In the end I realized how lucky I am. This whole process has been relatively painless physically, because it was so early, and I've had the support of literally dozens of family members and friends. It's deepened my relationship with my husband, made me appreciate my beautiful babies more than I ever thought possible, and it cemented my desire to have more children.

I think I can check 'find the silver lining' off of my list of things to do today.

Happy Distractions

On Saturday afternoon I went into the city to do some engagement photos for my cousin and her fiancee. It was a bit windy but I think we managed to get some good ones!

It was nice to have something so happy to occupy my mind.

--

For more best shot Monday visit Tracey at Mother May I.

TMI

Scene: Interior, bathroom

Him: So do you flush those pads when you're done with them?

Me: No. They'd totally clog the toilet. You wrap them up and throw them away.

Him: So, there's a fetus in our bathroom trash can?

Me: Well, maybe not an entire fetus, but I'm willing to bet there are parts of a fetus in there.

(Pause)

Him: Remind me to take out the trash first thing tomorrow.

End Scene

Retraction

Remember yesterday how I told you I was pregnant? Well, forget about it, k? Let's just pretend that never happened. Because as of 4:45am this morning I'm not pregnant anymore. I'll spare you the details, admit to crying more than I expected and just say that I appreciated all of your well wishes yesterday. Thanks.