Pitocin flashbacks

Tomorrow is going to be Hannah's 14th birthday. That just blows me away. It was about 14 years ago at this exact time (4:30ish) that they decided to go ahead and start the Pitocin, after breaking my water and a few other things didn't get labor going properly. I had developed preeclampsia and they wanted to go ahead and get her out, but I was trying everything to avoid a Csection and they went along with our wishes. I felt nothing for about a half-hour, then the contractions went from 0 to 60 in about 5 minutes. I remember we were in the labor room watching Seinfeld, and one minute we were chuckling at it and the next minute WHAM, and it was full-on hard labor until 2:30 the next afternoon, April 17, a beautiful sunny day, when she was born. There had been severe storms and I think a tornado warning or 2 during that night, but I don't remember much at all -- it was grueling.

I posted this on her 10th birthday, but I'm thinking of it again... "It was an incredibly difficult labor -- we were trying to do a completely "natural" Bradley birth, despite being induced, so there I was with no epidural or pain meds, Pitocin contractions that felt like I was being ground up inside, and total fear and panic -- I think it took a long time to dilate because I was so freaked out I was subconsciously trying to shut down the whole process. I had nightmares about it for a little while afterwards.

I'd willingly go through every second of it again and again, if we could have Hannah back. Even if we couldn't, I wouldn't change it -- it was worth everything ten times over just to have had her in our lives."

 I can't even imagine what that would be like, to have a kid going into high school. I know she would be a beautiful girl like Emily. I suspect she would be fairly petite -- it looks to me like Emily is slated to be on the tall side -- but they would look similar, I think; slender, dark hair and eyes, delicate face, beautiful smile. She would be completely absorbed in art and creative endeavors, because that was her passion even back then. She would be a social butterfly but probably not a "queen bee". I don't know how she'd be on the boy/dating front (or girl/dating, I guess you never know) but I suspect she would probably have a lot of people who cared for her. 

She would be a fabulous big sister. She loved Emily so much, even when Emily drove her crazy. She was patient with her and loved trying to play "school" and teach her things, and one of her favorite games was to pretend that I was the baby, Emily was the big sister and she was the mom. It got pretty hilarious at times.

If we hadn't lost her, we wouldn't have ended up having Max, so that makes this a lot more complicated in many ways. But I know she would adore him too. I just wish there had been a way to have all 3 of them with us forever. I hate that he never knew her. He is starting to ask questions about her, mainly about the car crash; I'm not sure how much he understands of the idea that she was a big sister in the same way that Emily is. I know he will, in time. I know it will be different for him than Emily; he won't experience it as a direct loss in the way she does, but I imagine in some way he will mourn her.

I desperately wish I could go to Ypsilanti tomorrow and visit the rock, leave flowers, spend some quiet time and also visit our old house, her school, and just find a way to "be with" her again. It just isn't possible, though. I'd have to at least take Max with me, and Emily can't miss school right now (they're getting ready for stupid Ohio state tests and there's a shit-ton of homework). I hate so much that I can't be there. I'll ask Sandy to go by the rock and leave some flowers. I know she won't mind; she loved Hannah too and so did her son Dan.

It would be so much worse if we didn't have so many amazing friends who loved her and love us and who have never stopped giving us their support all these years. I think that speaks volumes about the kind of person Hannah was, more than anything. Her favorite song was one by Tom. T. Hall -- "I Wish I Had A Million Friends". I suspect if she had been able to live out her life, she may well have reached that goal and then some.

Spring Break

So this week the kids and I are spending their spring break visiting my mom in Orlando. Jon's spring break was at the begininng of March or something insane like that -- the university is on a totally different schedule from the public school districts -- so it's just the two kids and me traveling. The flight down was pretty smooth, which was nice. The last time I flew Southwest with the kids, in June of 2010, we had the Epic Projectile Diarrhea Cross-Country Flight Saga, which I don't have the strength to tell about now. I was a bit concerned Max would have ended up on their "no-fly" list after that but we got on the plane without incident and all was well for the duration of the flight. In-flight wifi was a plus  too.

The visit so far hasn't been bad; some things I expected but can deal with (the constant micromanaging of how I manage my kids). We're right now on a sort of vacation-within-a-vacation; my sister joined us and we're at a smallish resort on the Gulf coast in Treasure Island, which is right outside of St. Petersburg. It's a nice place -- you can tell it's about 50 years old, and it is kind of retro, but it's been beautifully kept up. It's definitely not an "upscale" place with tons of amenities, but I like it a lot.

To my surprise Max really did great with ocean swimming; I thought the waves would freak him out but he loved it. He had on his life vest and hung onto one of those "noodle" floatie things, and bobbed around in the waves and had the time of his life. He didn't even get fazed when a wave or two would slap him in the face, which totally surprised me. Emily had a ball too. Max and I headed into the pool for a while -- I think he'd had about enough waves and sand -- but that was nice too. Now they're both completely crashed out.

I do still get a little twitchy when both my mom and sister are around, because you can tell they totally don't get me or my parenting methods, and are quite sure they know more than me about everything. They've toned down expressing it considerably, but it still leaks out here and there. It makes me absolutely batshit crazy but I'm ignoring it as best I can. Other than snapping back at them or getting shit-faced drunk, there really isn't much else I can do to cope, and neither of the aforementioned options are viable right now, though I'm awfully tempted to sneak downstairs to the bar or maybe take a long walk on the beach in the dark...

Florida, though, as nice as it is to vacation here -- I definitely would not want to live down here. It just seems too "vacation-y" and weird; not only the tourist parts but all of it.

I think tomorrow we may go to Legoland on the way back to Orlando, and then after that I'm not sure what's on the agenda. Lots of swimming, maybe Sea World and/or Gatorland. Definitely not doing Disney. We went to the Magic Kingdom last year and it kind of sucked -- it was blistering hot, Max really wasn't into it at all, and honestly, I don't get the hype -- it is so insanely overpriced and it's just an amusement park full of Disney shite. I'd rather go to Cedar Point or even Disneyland in California, which doesn't seem quite so cult-like.

Right now I'm typing this lying right next to the balcony, and if I look to my right I can see the stars above the ocean and hear the surf. I think the one really bright star I see is actually Venus. This part, I could get used to... But I have to admit, as nice as this is, I like Lake Michigan almost a little more. I'm not a salt water fan, for one thing.

Well, I think I'm going to lie down and stare out at the stars for a while.

Well, well...

...it seems I've attracted some new readers (hi Amy!!!). I can't express how grateful I am that people apparently enjoy my blog so much that they share it with friends. :)

Yes, I'm being a touch sarcastic here; the truth is that I don't really understand what the point was of directing attention to the "Montessori cluster[euphemism]" post to someone after the fact. We had a bad experience (again) with the Primary program, but I thought most readers of reasonable intelligence would realize that my blog is my place to vent and verbalize frustrations, nothing more.

At any rate, welcome aboard. Despite the abovementioned episode, I do have some positive things to say, so by all means, read on.

Anyway, things are chugging along. Max is still doing fine and we're getting ready for the IEP transition meeting for kindergarten readiness; I've got him enrolled for Market Street next year, and he continues to make progress in all the areas we've been working on. So our recent episode was just a bump in the road, it seems.

That said, Emily is slated for Montessori this fall; I do have a lot of confidence that it will be a great fit for her. She visited a few weeks ago for a morning and fell in love with the upper El class. Obviously, too, she doesn't have the same issues that Max has. And it doesn't hurt that three of her best friends will be in the class with her next fall (Boston, Ridley and Ben). She said it was a very different kind of class -- she said it was peaceful and comfortable. She liked how they worked in small groups and had the time to get help with things they struggled with, instead of everyone doing the same thing at the same time. She said she felt right at home and she liked Mrs. W. and the assistant teacher as well. I liked the same things when I observed; I also liked how the girls in particular seemed a lot less into their clothes, etc. -- it just seemed more "age appropriate" all around. So we're looking forward to this. It's definitely time for a change for her, anyway.

We will miss Akiva very much, despite some of our recent concerns about it. Most of all we're going to miss the Jewish education (despite some of it being more watered-down than we would like). I like her class, too. Out of the 12 kids, 10 have been together since kindergarten and it's been lovely to watch them all grow up. But with J not being there next year, that does change things for her friend-wise. That's not a reason to change, of course, but it does make the case for staying even weaker. I am going to make sure she stays in touch with her friends there, and hope she continues to have those friendships for a long time.

Getting ready to go to FL next week to visit Mom. It should be an OK trip, although not without the usual Mom issues. I know the kids will have a ball though, so that's what I'm going to focus on. It'll be nice to get away for a bit anyway, I guess.

Had a minor health scare but it seems all is well. Ah well, not getting any younger.

Aaaand...

indeed, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting different results. Long story short -- Montessori was YET AGAIN a clusterfuck, and Max is happily back at his old preschool, and I am kicking myself for wasting two weeks of my and my family's life. But -- it's a long boring whiny story and even I am sick of it, so, onward.

Anyway, just getting through February/winter. Things are good in general; just need to get my shite together and get this place cleaned/decluttered, and start working on myself a bit more (back to exercising, etc.).

Heart is breaking for a friend (friends) of mine who are going through major financial/marital/health crises right now. Hoping everything works out for them, wishing there was some way I could help that happen.

Hulksmash

So yesterday I had a meeting with Max's IEP team (Michelle/OT and Dawn/Speech). Oh my fucking GAWD. Dawn (who I didn't even recognize at first because I never see the woman and she never gives me any documentation/info without my having to beg for it) was all "oh geeee, I just don't knooowwww if Montessori is a good idea for Max; I don't knooowwww if they'll do anything good for him; he's made soooo much progress and I just don't knooowwww anything whatsoever about Montessori; I'm just here to advocate for Max and make sure he gets what he neeeeeeds, bla bla bla" and then MICHELLE who has been nothing but enthusiastic and supportive about the whole thing so far is suddenly all "I haven't heard back from Amy and I don't know if she's going to want to work with us and I'm just worried bla bla bla."

A "professional" speech therapist who works exclusively with children should probably have at least a minimal knowledge of other education philosophies outside of the ONE school district she services. And where does she get off with the "I'm just Max's advocate and want what's best for him" with the puppy dog eyes.

And Michelle? Love her to death and she has done truly amazing things for Max, but since when is it on ME to do her job and follow through when she hasn't gotten a reply she needs? She's string there bleating about how gee, she hasn't heard back from Amy-Anne after their last email exchange and golly, what if they don't want her to work with Max and oh no, maybe I offended her. Ok, so do what any semi-intelligent person would do -- follow up with an email or better yet, a phone call and just say "hey, let's touch base about Max; let me know your thoughts about working with him and what would work best for everyone; please get back to me at your earliest convenience."

And just to make it that much more special, DO YOU HAVE TO WAIT INTIL LITERALLY ONE HOUR AFTER HE'S JUST LEFT HIS OLD PRESCHOOL FOR THE LAST TIME???? If there were concerns, they could have been brought up in NOVEMBER 2011 when I first told you I was considering switching him over. GAAAAH.

So of course they totally have me second-guessing this shit AGAIN and all panicky about yet another Montessori disaster. Tapped right into the last remnants of my PTSD from our first go-round. It was not a pretty day.

I was on shaky emotional ground anyway because of the http://storycorps.org/listen/stories/dennis-and-buelah-apple/ Storycorps episode that I had woken up to; compounded by having just picked Max up from St. Mark's for the last time and feeling very bittersweet about the end of this stage. Top with having a cold and being a bit fatigued, and it was just a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

And I remember when they were infants and thinking, "it can only get easier from here, right?" It is to laugh.

Onward.

random updates

Well, as mentioned before, Max will start at the Montessori school next Wednesday, February 1. I know he's getting a little confused about the whole idea. We are explaining it to him and showing him the days on the calendar, etc. but I just can't get a handle on how much he understands. I do know that, while he likes his current school (and I do too) he seems to be much more interested in going to the Montessori school -- in the mornings when he's doing his whole "I wanna stay home/stay asleep/play DS all day" schtick, he sometimes says he wants to go to Montessori. Keeping everything crossed that the transition is an easy one.

Friday will be his last day at St. Mark's, and then we'll take Monday and Tuesday off before he starts Montessori on the 1st. It's a bit of an awkward gap, but his teacher figured it would be a bit easier than one day going to one school and then BAM another day starting somewhere new. I need to figure out something nice to do for them. I'm going to be donating a shit-ton (approximately) of baby toys and books to their infant and toddler room, since they indicated a need for extras, but I'd like to make a donation or maybe get them some kind of a gift card for a place like Carson/Dellossa or anywhere they can get nice new materials for their classes. They have done so much for Max, and I honestly don't know how we would have survived if he hadn't been able to go there last year for the 3's.

It's going to be a bit hectic in the mornings, getting Emily to Akiva and then Max to Montessori, but he'll only be going half-days for the rest of this year, so pickup is going to be a breeze. Next year, Emily will be at Montessori too, so it will be amazingly simple. It's going to be so nice having two kids in the same school -- it'll sure cut down on the mileage if nothing else.

I feel kind of sad about taking Emily out of Akiva. From a logistical standpoint, though, it just doesn't seem possible to have the two of them at different schools once Max starts going full-time (presumably next fall). I do not like the direction Akiva is going in currently (taking in way too many EdChoice kids that just aren't up to the academic and behavior standards, the watering-down of the Judaica) but Emily's class is relatively unaffected by this. Her group is sort of the last "old-school" type of class there, in that most of the kids are Jewish and part of the local Jewish community; all but one of them are not EdChoice; all but two of them have been there since at least first grade and are well-versed in the Hebrew and Judaica studies. It really is a great group of kids and I have loved watching them all grow up together. I will miss them terribly.

Emily has mixed feelings -- she will miss her class and the teachers and the school, but she says there is starting to be a lot more chaos and bad behavior overall; not so much in her class or the upper grades but in the school in general. The climate of the place has really changed, and not for the better, unfortunately. She has good friends in the class (in particular Julia and Caroline) but she isn't as much a part of the local Jewish community as they all are. Whereas at Montessori, she will be with Boston, Ridley, AND Ben M. -- three of her best friends, that she is more involved with outside of school, between dance and mutual friends and YSU stuff. Plus I'm closer to their parents as my own friends, where while I quite like most of the parents at Akiva, I haven't really become close to any of them outside of school. Gretchen would be an exception, but I hardly think of her as an Akiva parent -- I never see her there, Emily and Andrew aren't close any more, and my friendship with Gretchen so far predates the Akiva era anyway.

She's excited to go to Montessori, and is actually kind of pleased also about being at school with Max. I think it will be a good fit for her. In particular, the way they learn math (with more manipulatives and hands-on lessons rather than just workbooks) will probably be what saves her, because she is not doing well with that at all. Largely this is due to the fact that she isn't lazy exactly, but doesn't want to persist at something if she doesn't get it right away. (I know... chip off the old block.) And she has a great memory for stuff like spelling, and if she'd just apply it to learning, say, the times tables and basic math procedures she'd be amazing at it.  With the multi-age classroom, too, she can work ahead as far as she needs to (she's way beyond grade level with reading and spelling) and get all the extra time/help she needs with stuff like math, both from the teacher and from her peers.

I will really miss the Jewish education and what it's added to our lives, though. I love that I have learned so much about it and it helped me feel closer to my dad and the memory of my grandpa; I love that Emily feels proud of that part of her heritage; I love that she not only learned another language starting all the way back in kindergarten, but a language with a totally different alphabet that goes backwards! That is a HUGE thing and too many kids don't get that opportunity. I will miss that dreadfully. I am also sad that Max won't really have it at all. I know we could get involved with Rodef Sholom or Ohev Tzedek, and I do want to keep that alive, but the continuity won't be there as it is now with Akiva being a big part of our lives.

In other news, I recently got back in touch with my very first boyfriend ever, DB. I got friended recently with an old high school classmate that DB used to know, and was scrolling down the friends list and BLAM, there he was. Hadn't thought of him in decades. I wrote a quick "hi how are you" message and a few days later he friended me.

I actually met him right before I turned 15, when my mom and sister and I went to Baskin Robbins to get ice cream. He was working there (he was 16) and started talking to me, and being quite flirty. We went back a few days later and he asked me if I wanted to see his car. OF COURSE I did. So he walked me out to the parking lot, showed me this mint-condition early-70's yellow Cutlass 442 convertible, and then asked me out. No fool, he. Of course, I said yes. I liked him, but I was also completely and utterly dazzled and bowled over by the car, his attention and the prospect of dating him. This was the first time I was ever asked out on a date.

I remember being really hesitant about asking my parents if I could go. I thought the biggest obstacle would be my father, since he was a big worrier and was always ragging on me if I had crushes on someone, and just generally treating me like I was four years old. I figured my mother would be understanding, since she generally was (my, how things have changed), and because she had met him at the store those two times and seemed to like him. So I asked Dad (after psyching myself up) and he completely took the wind out of my sails with, "Ok, it's fine with me if your mother is OK with it." Whuck??? I had expected at the very least, a tirade about rotten boys and me being too young and yadda yadda. I was totally gobsmacked.

So later on, I went to Mom and of all things, SHE put me through the third, fourth and fifth degrees. "How do you know he's a nice boy? Why do you want to go out with him? Do you think you're old enough? I don't think you can handle this. Are you sure you like him? Why should we let you go out with him?" Again, totally gobsmacked, and unprepared for the barrage. Somehow, though, I ended up getting permission, and with the caveat that I had to be home by 11:00 and that he had to come in and meet them first, it was on.

Our first date, we went to see "Airplane" and then out for ice cream afterwards. There was some kissing and canoodling, which was all very thrilling. We had a great time, we were both obviously crushing really really hard on each other, and it was just all ice cream and rainbows.

We continued to date for another three weeks or so, with progressively more intense necking sessions in the car, etc. It was thrilling, of course, and I enjoyed it mightily. We also were quite sure we were "in love", for real. Deeply infatuated, no doubt. Love... probably not.

Very fortunately, he was a genuinely decent kid who never pressured me -- one of the first things he said is "We won't do anything you don't want to do" and he meant it, which made me more comfortable with doing more. We never got so far as actual sex, thank God, because I was way way way way too young (and he was too, really), but it was on the table for a while.

Then out of the blue, his dad got transferred, and they had to move. We broke up (at his parents' behest, from my understanding) right before the move. I was DEVASTATED. I spent the rest of that summer mooning around and crying and just generally being miserable, which in hindsight was ridiculous, but at the time it was a big deal.

While I look back fondly on that period, I also have to wonder just what in HELL my parents were thinking, letting me date at all at that age (barely 15), let alone going out with a guy in a car. Granted, he wasn't much older than me, so we were both kids, but still. I cannot even begin to fathom letting Emily do this in 5 years. I have no doubt she will be asked out a lot -- she is gorgeous (in my admittedly biased opinion) and socially pretty adept and friendly, so there will be boyfriends and attention. But no way in hell is she going to be dating one-on-one (do kids even do that any more) until she's like 16 or 17, MAYBE. Good lord. I really was too young to be dating, let alone getting emotionally and somewhat physically involved with anyone, at barely 15.

I dated a few other people after that, before I met Jon, but nothing ever got to that point until Jon -- lots of fun, beer and making out, but not the major emotional involvement. And then when I met Jon, while I had a mad crush on him from the start, things progressed more slowly, and we were friends and got to know each other during that time, along with the dating/romance. Also, of course, we were older (I was 17 and he was 18) and those two years from 15 to 17 do make a difference at that stage.

Something I just realized -- of all my old boyfriends, only one of them has had kids. All the rest have remained childless, though all but one are married. Interesting.

One sad thing is that DB's 16yo nephew has just died, from some type of heart defect/stroke. I wish I could send a message/condolences to his sister and parents, but I don't want to intrude and I don't know if they remember me anyway. I did give condolences to DB. I can tell he's devastated.

Another bit of fun -- with my dad's estate. So it seems that, while there was/is a will, nobody has a clue where it is, and apparently we can't move forward with his tax return until there is some kind of will in hand, and an executor named (which I think would be my sister, so why I'm busting my ass on all of this is beyond me). My accountant has gone above and beyond trying to help us figure this out, but he is finally at a stopping point. So, it looks like the only thing we can do is go to probate court and try to get this resolved. Whoo-fucking-hoo. I really, really really hate how this has been going. My mother, who had been divorced from my dad for at least 15 years before he died, is riding my ass constantly about all of this. I am ready to kill. The man is dead. So what if the tax refund can't be retrieved? it's only money. It won't bring him back, and it's not like any of us *need* it since we're all doing just fine financially.

I have already told her that I want absolutely zero, zip, nada to do with any of her wills/paperwork/etc. when her time comes. My sister gets to do this one -- every last bit of it. My mom is convinced I'll fuck it all up anyway (not that it would matter since she'd be DEAD) but if I know her, she'll find a way to harass me from beyond the grave if I have anything to do with it. Gah.

And that's about it for now.

Yes, again.

I'm well aware that "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results", but with that in mind, Max will start at Montessori in a week or so, and Emily will be switching to Montessori next fall. Yes, I know we went through total hell on our first go-round with Emily there, but things have changed at the school, and the long and the short of it is, Max would absolutely thrive in that kind of classroom and not so much in a traditional one. So, there we are.

Emily's pretty cool with switching schools. It helps that three of her best friends will be in the class (Boston, Ridley and Ben M.) and also things at Akiva just aren't that great any more (another long boring rant which I'll spare you).

I can't believe how little I have to say. Bleah. I used to journal up a storm, notebook after notebook after notebook. Granted it was all "me me me" stuff; nothing interesting or political or worth reading if you weren't me, but it was very therapeutic.

Oh well. I'll post more, or not. Stay tuned. Or don't.

2011, so far

OK, so, it's been over a year since I last posted. I never claimed to be a consistent or disciplined blogger (blah-ger).

So Dad's been gone for a year, but I still miss him. The anniversary was difficult.

I also lost my first, best friend Tom on November 3rd. He and his girlfriend LeeAnn were driving his truck (they were a long-haul trucking team) and something happened; she crossed the median and they hit another semi head-on, and promptly died in a fiery crash.

That doesn't seem real to me either. The only people I've known longer or better than Tom are my parents. I met him when I was just a year old. As adults we occasionally drifted out of touch, but always reconnected and always were immediately as close as we'd ever been. He was a friend of Jon's also and is indirectly responsible for the fact that we are together; in high school when he knew I liked Jon, he let Jon know that and kept encouraging him to ask me out... and here we are 29 years later (with a few breaks during the college years, but those are other stories for other times).

I have been in touch with his mom. It's distinctly odd that someone who was almost another mother to me is now someone I am providing guidance and comfort too. Losing a child is such a devastating, unexpected and singular thing, that nobody can possibly help you with this except someone else who has lost a child. So I feel like this veteran who is helping a new member of our ranks. She says it helps, and in a way it helps me too, both with Tom's loss and still processing Hannah's.

There was a small memorial gathering on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I went up to East Lansing for that. It was a remarkable trip in many ways. Aside from the fact that it was going "home" for me (though I no longer have a home base there), the memorial gathering turned out to be so much more wonderful than I could have imagined. There were old friends there and some amazing music courtesy of Tom's brother Glenn and some amazing musician friends; I reconnected with a long-estranged friend (Gregg S.) and as with Tom, it was as though no time had passed; I spent time around people and places that were as much a part of me as my DNA, and I also made a stop in Detroit to have lunch with an old friend/flame, Miguel. That meant so much to me, and I hope it did to him. I didn't realize just how much I had been impacted by him until we met up again.

We had a great Thanksgiving, with Gary and Nesha and the family (including Sophy and Adam) coming to our house. I made enough food for about 25 people, which was a bit over the top as there were only 10 of us, but it was delicious and we had a great time.

Emily was in the BWR production of The Nutcracker this past weekend, as a mouse in the first act and a candy cane (in the Russian dance) in the second. Rehearsals had been going strong since October and the week before the performance there were 4-hour rehearsals every night. Emily was magnificent, although I realize I'm biased, but she said she loved being on stage and wasn't even slightly nervous. I think the girl has been bitten by the performance bug. From a technical standpoint, she has a very long way to go (and needs to work much harder) in ballet, but there is no doubt she loves dance and I think is going to stay with it for a long time.

I can't express how proud and how deeply moved I was by seeing her be a part of this and perform so well. There is no thrill on earth that compares with it.

Things with Jon are very, very good. Long story short, apparently some hormonal deficiencies on my part (and probably 13 years of sleep deprivation/pregnancy/lactation/kid-chasing played a part) had pretty much eliminated my, um, "drive", but some bloodwork with my ob/gyn showed that I had a pretty much nonexistent testosterone level. She started me on a small supplement, and all I can say is, shazam! It's made all the difference; I don't remember things being this much fun since before we had kids. Jon is happy to have the old me back, and I am enjoying it as well.

Of course, there are still the holidays to get through. This year, the anniversary of Hannah's death is the same night as Emily's school Hanukkah program. It feels weird and not quite right to be doing something else (not focused on Hannah) on that day), but at the same time, I realize that that's a day of mourning for us but there are other days to honor her memory, like her birthday (in April). So, looks like this year we will not be in Michigan over that date, and it will be hard, but I think watching Emily doing something she loves and celebrating a holiday will help us through it. I hope so, anyway.

Dad is gone

I got the call Thursday morning that it was a matter of hours, and frantically got packed and got a flight and raced down there again (I had just gotten back from TX a few days earlier after spending a week there because "it was a matter of hours" but I digress).

I was terrified I wouldn't make it, since I couldn't get there until about 11 p.m., but thankfully I was there in time, walked in around 11:30 p.m.

He was a bit restless and was fighting off an oxygen mask. When I got there, and they removed the mask and just replaced it with the little tube thingys that go in the nostrils, he calmed right down. I *think* he knew I was there -- I know he made eye contact and would periodically look over at me -- but he wasn't speaking by then and I couldn't tell for sure.

I sat and held his hand (it was very cold) and talked to him periodically. Now and then he'd look over at me and I'd just nod and smile and say, "Yes, I'm here... try to rest, OK?" and he'd lay back and close his eyes. After an hour or so he didn't look over any more. He was breathing quietly; sometimes there'd be a long pause between breaths and it would freak me out, but then another would come.

Around 2 a.m. I was starting to fall asleep and I thought I would just close my eyes for a second. Not 20 minutes later, I was awakened by the nurse and the aide coming into the room and saying his heart had stopped (they had telemetry monitors) and he wasn't breathing. Sure enough, he was gone.

I called my cousin and she got there shortly, and we sat and waited for... whoever, the funeral home guy. It was sad, but it was a relief not to have all those machines attached to Dad pinging away. He really did look peaceful.

Anyway, some chaplain guy comes in around 4:30 a.m. I still don't know if he was affiliated with the hospital or the funeral home... He talks with us a bit, says a nice prayer (my cousin is EXTREEEEMELY Catholic and I knew that even though Dad wasn't religious it would be comforting to her).

THEN... he starts rambling about some song that is supposedly played a lot at funerals there, written by "a native son... Kris Kristofferson!" (Brownsville, TX). I started thinking "oh dear God, please don't sing... please don't sing..." and then he whips something out of his pocket. I thought it was an iPod and he was going to just play a Kris Kristofferson song, which was bad enough. But it was a HARMONICA. He proceeds to play the hell out of some extremely maudlin wheezy tune (presumably a Kris Kristofferson song?) and I was torn between extreme horror and an urge to burst out laughing.

THEN he sang. It was horrific. I was petrified -- my cousin was clearly moved, and I didn't want to spoil the moment for her, but all I could think was that if my dad could see and hear this guy he would sit right up and order this lunatic out of the room (probably with a generous helping of English AND Spanish cursing), and that made me want to laugh even more. I was nearly choking, trying not to just burst out guffawing.

Finally he and his assistant and, I think, the nurse, gave us a few minutes alone with Dad's body, then had us leave the room and they did whatever it is they do to put the body on the funeral home gurney and cover it up with the fancy funeral home cloth/rug/whatever.

THEN we follow him to the staff elevator (because as he said, "We can't walk the dead bodies out of the front door of the hospital". No shit...?) and his assistant punches the elevator button. The door opens almost immediately, but Chaplain Dude stands there and proceeds to tell us a long, long story about how we should wash our hands, faces and lips after saying our final goodbyes, because bodies start to exude toxins as soon as the heart stops beating, and apparently this one lady in a family he helped take care of got deathly ill from kissing her husband goodbye before they took him to the funeral home.

AND THE WHOLE TIME HE'S TELLING US THIS HE'S LEANING ON MY DAD. I mean, he has one elbow lightly resting on Dad's chest, like it's a counter or something. I finally just interrupted him and said, "Dude -- could you please not lean on my father?" He immediately straightened up and without missing a beat continued his story.

By this time, I'd been up for close to 24 hours, so it was just getting crazier. We left the hospital, and I followed my cousin back to her house, and I was laughing like a fool all the way there (luckily I was alone in my rented PT Cruiser -- another touch of the surreal...).

Anyway, it was weird the next day or so, because I kept thinking "We have to get back to the hospital and check on Dad... oh, wait".

I did have a nice time visiting my cousins there. We spent time together, ate like pigs, and talked about Dad and told all kinds of stories. I ate nothing but Mexican food -- chorizo and beans and fresh flour tortillas for breakfast, enchiladas, homemade tamales, barbacoa, botanas... you name it.

I do not want to eat Mexican food in any way, shape or form again for at least a month, by the way.

Per his request, Dad was cremated and we are going to plan a memorial service down there sometime in the spring. Also, I was contacted tonight by someone at Michigan State University (where Dad was an anthropology professor) and it sounds like they want to do some kind of memorial thing for him there, and perhaps endow a lecture series or library collection in his name.

It's been weird. I'm still processing it all.

/blahgity blahg blahg

I found out yesterday that a kid Emily used to play with, from the old Mothers & More playgroup, drowned last Tuesday. He was at a day camp program and managed to wander away from the locker room. He ended up at the bottom of the pool at the day camp. I guess it was only 5 minutes or so from the time they noticed he was missing until they found him in the pool, and they got him to the hospital and made numerous attempts to revive him, but he didn't survive.

He was 7 (6 months younger than Emily). He has a 6yo younger sister, and then another brother and sister, 2yo twins.

I have been in contact with his mother -- we weren't super close but she lives nearby and we run into each other all over the place with the kids. She had actually remembered hearing about Hannah's death -- the Mothers & More national organization put it on their website, and we got cards from chapters all over the country, including Youngstown, which was partly why I joined it when I got here.

I so wish we didn't have this in common.

This brings back so much of what we felt when we lost Hannah. I know right now they're in shock, plus they have the other children (especially 2yo twins) that keep them going in spite of everything. When the flurry of visitors and funeral stuff and shock wears off -- about a month or so, in my experience -- I'll check in with her periodically.

This really sucks.

MUCH better

We just got back from Michigan a couple of hours ago. Headed up there Friday, ate dinner at our favorite noodle joint, let the kids run off their energy at the Briarwood Mall playground (Hannah and Emily's old stomping grounds), had some cookies.

They had one of those bungee-jumping concessions near the center court, and of course Emily just had to try it! I'll attach a pic. She also wanted to go to Build-A-Criminally-Overpriced-Bear and make the Frosty snowman, but I think she got more bang for the buck doing the bungee jumping. I know we did.

Then we headed over to Hope and Sean's and hung out with them for a while. It was so amazing to see them again. They were our neighbors across the street when we lived in Ypsi, and their son Corey, 16yo now, was sort of a big brother to Hannah (and Emily) when we lived there. It's so weird to have to look UP to talk to him! Of course, they knew Emily last as a toddler, even younger than Max. Hope and I had a bit of wine and she was getting pretty sentimental, asking a lot of questions about how it's been for the six years that Hannah's been gone. I think in a way, spending the time with us and seeing Emily especially so grown up, it hit them hard too.

The next day we went to Sandy's house for a while. Emily and Miranda immediately picked up where they'd last left off, and Dan was great with Max -- which left Sandy and me plenty of time to sit and chat. Had lunch and relaxed for a while, then we went back to our old neighborhood for the annual Christmas party/progressive dinner, which we used to do back when we lived there. This year, the Haseys (the ones who bought our old house) hosted the appetizers, and Hope and Sean hosted the dinner part. We didn't stay for the coffee or dessert, but it was still great.

We realized how much we really miss our old neighborhood. As great as it's been here in Ytown, it felt good to be around people who "knew us when", who had known Hannah and experienced her loss along with us. We shared gossip and stories of stuff that had happened in the 'hood when we were there and since we'd left. We both were left feeling that the party was, in a way, much more of a celebration of Hannah's memory than even just being at the crash site on the date was. Everyone here who knows us well has been very compassionate and kind, but they didn't lose Hannah along with us -- our old friends and neighbors did.

After that we headed back to Sandy's house with a few pizzas, and the girls had a "pajama party". We sat around and chatted again and finally got everyone to bed, then spent the morning just hanging out with them. Steve made us pancakes, and Dan tried to convince us that Max needs some pet hermit crabs. Around noon we took off. Sandy had given Emily a bag of some of Miranda's old Junie B. Jones books, which Emily literally devoured -- in the time it took us to get back to Ohio, she read 3 of the books and was most of the way through the 4th one.

We made some stops -- Zingerman's bakehouse and creamery, Trader Joe's, and then Hannah's rock, where we spent a little time and neatened stuff up. That was harder emotionally than I'd thought. It always feels like we're leaving her behind, even though we're not...

The car DVD player made the ride much easier, although the headphones weren't working so Jon and I had to listen to Cars two times through. It more or less eliminated any screaming, though, so it was worth it.

Got home and Ron, an old and very dear friend from ATL, had called us, which was great. Jon is talking to him right now. I'd been thinking of him.

Thanks to the iPhone, we were able to listen to WYSU a bit on the way home, and heard our day sponsor message that we'd issued in Hannah's memory. That always helps, every year.

So anyway. Onward.

But I will say this: Youngstown is no Ann Arbor. And never will be. We are happy to be here and appreciate it for what it is, but it's a whole different planet from A2.

This is just so hard

I still don't fully understand why this is hitting me SO HARD this year. I know Emily's increased awareness/emotions about it are a factor. Maybe so is the fact that we no longer have an overriding worry/pressure (Jon getting tenure) to distract us.

I haven't felt like this for a while. I am starting to revert to where I was during the first year, where on some level I thought that perhaps some miracle would occur and she'd just return, as though she'd been away for a while and forgotten to let me know she was going. I used to picture her coming in the front door and looking a little nervous because she knew she'd been gone a while and that we'd be freaked out.

I wonder what she would look like now? She'd be turning 12 this coming April. Would she be as tall as me yet? Would she still look like a kid or more like a teenager? What would it be like to have here here with Emily being a bigger kid and having a little brother too? I have a feeling she'd adore Max and be another kind of mom figure to him.

I know Emily has been wanting Deana to come play because I think on some level she thinks of Deana as being, not exactly a stand-in for Hannah, but just that because Deana's a similar age to Hannah and because she has always acted sort of big-sisterish to Emily, it helps Emily feel some kind of connection or like she's got someone in her life who at least represents what Hannah would have been to her.

I just remember how sweet Hannah was and how she was at that magic age, where she was still little enough to be really innocent and to believe in things like princesses and other fantasy notions, but old enough to care about other people and want to help. I can still hear her voice. Emily sounds a bit like her, and I will miss it so much once she grows beyond that.

Almost six years

Well, December is upon us.

We had a terrific Thanksgiving. Gary and Nesha and Sarah and Tati came over for dinner -- I did the turkey and fixings, she brought pies, wine and the most delicious raw cranberry relish I've ever had. I am never ever eating or using the whole-berry canned stuff again. Even though my doctored-up version is pretty good, it isn't in the same galaxy as the raw relish.

Emily is in second grade and has totally hit her stride. Conferences were last week and except for the fact that she tends to be loud (i.e., using mostly an "outside voice" in class when she gets excited about stuff, which is not news to us), the consensus was more or less "she's doing great, keep up the good work, we absolutely love having her in class." That was really wonderful to hear. She's enjoying school, and the social/friends thing is settling down a bit -- being with those same kids year after year, I guess they are finally getting a handle on how to deal with each other.

The thing that's getting difficult with her is that lately she seems to be actively grieving for Hannah. She says so many things remind her of Hannah -- especially since the holidays started approaching -- and I'm trying to understand what it is that's different about her feelings now. I'm guessing that it's because she's starting to be old enough to understand what happened to Hannah, and to grasp the magnitude of how horrible the accident really was, for all of us.

She has asked so many questions about every detail about our hospital stays, the timeline of the events in the accident, if I remember anything about it. She claims that she remembers the pain and the impact -- I don't know what to think about that. She cries a lot about Hannah. The other day she said that if Hannah had never been alive then we wouldn't have to be so sad now. :(

What I'm concerned about is if, or when, she starts to question WHY she survived and Hannah didn't -- not in the factual sense, but in terms of maybe feeling guilty or responsible somehow. I want to be prepared and be able to get her whatever help she needs to deal with it, if it's beyond what I can do. I do know someone who would probably be very helpful, so maybe I'll call her soon and discuss my concerns and see what she thinks.

I've been feeling a lot sadder too, about all of that. It's funny -- Jon did officially get tenure, so that worry is officially off our shoulders, and it wasn't until right after that happened, that I started really feeling pretty crushingly sad again about Hannah. It was as though the whole getting-tenure rat race distracted us.

I even find myself lately hoping that some miracle can happen and she will somehow mysteriously be restored to us, as though she had just been away for six years and is now back to stay; I imagine the logistics of who would have what bedroom, and schoolwork, and where we'd all sit at our table. I haven't had thoughts like that since shortly after we moved here.

Maybe unconsciously I thought that once we knew where we'd settle (i.e., once the tenure question was settled), that everything else would be restored to us as well.

Some of it also may be that, although Max is far from independent, he is older, occasionally sleeps through the night, will stay with a sitter or the Y child care, will play with Emily instead of just clinging to my legs all the time -- so that gives me a little more room and time to face reality.

cannot.take.it.any.more

OK.

So Max is 27mo. He does not co-sleep, does not nurse at bedtime or naptime, does not nurse at all during the night, takes about a 1.5-hour nap at midday. He still nurses a few times during the day, mainly for comfort.

The problem is that he is not sleeping through the night. It's not just that he wakes up; it's that he is actively doing every single thing in his power to keep himself awake. He fights falling asleep at bedtime (and to a lesser extent at naptime).

Jon says that basically it seems like Max is incapable of sleeping for more than 3-4 hours at a stretch -- at the absolute maximum. I can think of maybe four times in his 2 years that he's made it longer than that.

We have been consistently doing Ferber-style CIO with him when he wakes up. Before that we were going in and sitting next to the crib and just "shh"-ing or sitting quietly until he settled himself back down.

For a while that seemed to work, in the sense that he'd resettle reasonably quickly (less than half an hour). However, it has been getting worse and worse and worse, which is why we've gone to Ferber. That has made no difference.

Last night I was awake from 1 a.m. to 4 a.m., then up for the day at 6:30. We are FRIED.

We're starting to wonder if there is, maybe, possibly...? some kind of neuro or biochemical problem with him? I know he's still pretty young, but it seems like his sleep is getting worse with time and not better. I have gathered over the years that sometimes kids on the autism spectrum or with other neuro or developmental issues have trouble falling/staying asleep.

Other than being slightly delayed with speech (at least imo, based on what i've seen of other boys his age like Nicky/Ethan/Eli), I am not seeing anything that would make me immediately have red flags for other issues. He is going through a pretty big surge verbally, so while he's still behind (imo) he's making progress.

I am at the point where I want to ask our pediatrician about this, but I'm not sure how to approach it. I don't want to get brushed off with "he's just spoiled/let him CIO", but on the other hand I don't want to come in with an agenda about possible neuro/biochem issues either.

We are absolutely at the limits of our ability to cope. We are SO TIRED. Since he is otherwise fine/happy/developing more or less normally, we are absolutely baffled as to what may be going on (if anything).

/novel

Talk me down, laugh and point, validate my concerns -- whatever. Jon and I are just completely confused as to what to do about this, if anything.

Happy 11th birthday!

This is Hannah sitting in the rocker with Emily, and shows her habitual expression, full of energy and joy.

It was a gorgeous day just like this, around this time of day, when she was born. I like that her birthday is such an integral part of spring, usually right when all the trees are bursting into full bloom.

I was a mess last night, but feel better today. We're making cupcakes to decorate later, and Emily and my mom are playing outside making a "fair". I'll head on out with Max to see what's going on once the cupcakes are out of the oven.

11 years old! I can't even imagine what she might be like. She'd be more preteen than child; maybe even as tall as I am. I wish she was still here to be Emily's big sister and to dote on Max, but her spirit does still remain and permeate everything.

There but for the grace of [insert deity/force here]...

The whole thing with Natasha Richardson's accident (and the several other reported case stories of epidural hematoma that, predictably, appeared in the news for a couple of weeks after that) has really brought some of the stuff back to me.

Mostly I have no recollection of the accident. I *think* I have a vague impression of being sort of slumped down, nose to nose with the radio console, and mumbling my phone number to someone. Also, I think I have a brief recollection of being maybe in the ER and complaining that my head hurt and being afraid to go to sleep.

Jon remembers that I was kind of disoriented when he got to the ER, and that I didn't really seem to understand when he told me about Hannah's death and the accident. He said I kept asking him "Are you sure we can stay together?" I don't know what my thoughts could have been at the time, although I'm guessing maybe I just couldn't process it.

He said they had advised him not to tell me about Hannah before I went into surgery, but I am glad he did what HE needed to do about that. I can't imagine how it would have been for him not to tell me; like he was all alone with it.

So they gave him a ton of forms to sign, and apparently made a very big point of telling him that they could not give him any idea of how I would come through the surgery -- that I may be just fine, or I could be completely disabled, or brain-damaged on maybe a 5yo level. If I survived. He had to sign the forms quickly because I guess I started to deteriorate rapidly (going from being more or less lucid to starting to lose consciousness) and then I went right into surgery.

My mind tends to skitter away from the thought of what he must have endured at that point, to find out within a 10-minute space of time that Hannah was dead, Emily seriously injured, and that I might very well die or be disabled. Luckily, the rector from our church was there, and I guess they had a social worker there too. I think my mom got there at some point in the afternoon, but I don't know for sure.

My mom's version of events is pretty similar to Jon's (probably the one time in history that that will ever happen!). She said that I came pretty close to dying, I suppose because I started that decline just before they got me to surgery. She is convinced that if we had been further from the hospital, or had not had such expert care once there (the U of M medical center vs., say, Youngstown quacks) I would not be here now.

I read a number of the articles about Natasha Richardson's accident and death and memorial service, and I remember feeling so devastated on her mother's behalf, especially. I never thought I'd have something in common with Vanessa Redgrave, and I sure wish that if I did, it would have been something other than losing our daughters. My heart breaks for Natasha's sons and her husband, too, but there was something about her mother's face in one of the photos; I just wished I could have reached out to her. And I felt almost angry that I got to survive, but someone else didn't, and she could so easily have been saved.

Anyway, as you can tell since you're reading this and I'm writing this in a more or less coherent fashion, I came out OK.

At least I think so.

I do notice some changes, but nothing that I could attribute specifically to the injury.

During the first year after the accident, I had a lot of short-term memory lapses. I also found that I couldn't multi-task or process multiple streams of information, which had been a strong point of mine before.

On the other hand, during that same year I was: grieving for Hannah, helping Emily heal from her wounds, standing by Jon during his job search, learning that we were going to move, getting the house ready to sell, leaving our home, moving to a totally new area, and helping Jon adjust to not just a new job, but what amounted to a career change.

So what with dealing with all those significant life stresses/events, who knows?

I do remember shortly after we moved here, Jon was putting together a set of exams. He wanted to make four separate sets in which the questions/answers were shuffled, in order to cut down on cheating. He asked me if I could help him do that, and I offered to because in the past, it was the kind of thing I could do very quickly and easily -- far more so than he could.

But I got started on it and realized I was totally confused, and just couldn't process what I was trying to do. I felt really agitated and upset, because I was not used to having any difficulty with that kind of thing. In the end, we did it together, but it took me far longer than it would have before the accident.

I do think I have struggled a lot harder with depression since then, and I'm not altogether sure there isn't a physiological reason along with the obvious situational things. I notice also that it's still harder for me to stay on top of just basic organizational functions -- the combination of Emily's school stuff, regular things like bills, housework, anything long-term -- I seem to be somewhat paralyzed. I don't know how to overcome it, and it doesn't help that right now Jon is absolutely slaving away to make sure he gets the tenure requirements fulfilled.

And I do think maybe I'm in a new stage -- I really do have two KIDS now. This is something new, because the last time I had two, Emily was still really a baby (18mo); where now Max is over 2yo and more verbal (barely) and not just the baby along for the ride. We're dealing with the two different appetites/preferences at meals, the thing where if one kid has something the other one HAS to have it, the juggling of things appropriate for one age or another. With Emily that wasn't an issue, though I could see we were headed that way.

Harpy New Year

I'm still in this crabby stage, and not sure how to shake it. The holidays were good, and things are going OK, but I'm sort of irrationally annoyed at everyone in the world who isn't worried about job security or who doesn't have a nursing toddler. I think that's my cue to start calling people and get off my ass and stop feeling sorry for myself.

I also need to get out of town. Way overdue for a visit to MI, or even a Trader Joe's run to Cleveland.

Everyone out there who prays at all, keep praying for Jon to get tenure. He's submitted one paper (twice so far, no dice) and is working on another, and doesn't have to apply until this fall, but I am just paralyzed with dread about all the what-ifs. Nobody else in the dept. had to fulfill the tenure requirements, and they all keep assuring him that it's no big deal, but to us it is. I keep feeling that it's because they haven't dealt with job insecurity or significant losses of any kind for years, whereas we have been through both of those (at the same time) fairly recently. I just want to shake them until their necks snap.

exactly five years ago, give or take a few minutes

our lives changed forever. I didn't even know it at the time. One minute I was driving down Whittaker road towards I-94, kids in the back babbling; I saw the light was red and a few cars were already ahead of me at the intersection.

The next minute, although it felt sort of like the next very slow half-hour, it was about two days later; I was in the hospital and vaguely sensed that something was horribly wrong, and that I needed to fix it somehow and there was this sense of urgency, but I couldn't really put a finger on it; I was also confused about where I was and why I was in the hospital. It seemed kind of dark in my room, and people were drifting in and out. I especially remember my friend Sandy sniffling a lot, and I don't know if she was crying or if she had a cold. Perhaps both.

It really wasn't until the night of the 24th, after I had been discharged and was in the MedInn (the sort of in-house hotel at the U of M medical center) that it really hit me.

Every year is hard, although this year is the first time we didn't go up to MI to be at the crash scene at the time of the accident. I had all kinds of medical misadventures early this week, and as a result we're extreeeeeemely far behind on things like cleaning, wrapping, xmas grocery shopping. Plus my mom is going to be here Monday. So we decided, reluctantly, to stay up here for this weekend, and we'll head to MI the first weekend in January.

We realized last night that the trip to MI, the stays with friends and visits to old favorite haunts in A2 and Ypsi, distract us somehow from the actual sadness of the day. However, being here underscores it. Last night we were absolutely floundering -- we desperately needed some company/support/something to get us through, but nobody around here is available for that kind of thing -- they're with their own families, or out w/friends, or just not quite the kind of friends that we can ask for this kind of support from.

Then too, the friends here, although they do care and understand that this is a hard time for us, don't experience it the same way because it is not a loss for them; whereas for Sandy and other friends in MI, they knew and loved Hannah too; so it helps us all if we can be together.

We ended by just going to the mall, getting dinner, letting the kids play, and I got a (rather nice) new haircut. I think in the future, we will still try to get up to MI for the actual date, but in the event that we can't, we will line up some kind of time with friends to see us through the worst of it.

What helped us through the initial loss back in 2003 was the sheer amount of human companionship -- every morning, and every evening, various friends from the neighborhood, church, Hannah's school, whatever; someone always came and sat with us or brought dinner or just kept us company; chatting, even laughing about stuff. Being alone with just the kids and the grief last night was too hard.

I felt a little angry -- well, to be honest, extremely angry -- that I couldn't just call someone here and say, help -- we need company/distraction/human contact, just to get us through. I was irrationally resentful that people here aren't feeling the pain the way we are. They just can't, though; and I wouldn't want them to. But it sucks to be here, instead of back in MI, for this.

It's also hard because right now we're sort of in the trenches w/Max -- we can't take him anywhere; almost none of our friend's houses are childproof enough for him (although at times I'm not sure even a completely empty, rubberized safe room would be childproof enough for this boy); our house is a pit so I don't want to ask anyone over (plus then we're the hosts, which sort of defeats the purpose of what we needed last night).

Everyone ELSE we know doesn't have toddlers; they have abundant family/close friends who can babysit at the drop of a fucking hat; they seem to be free to do mom's nights/couple time/whatever in a way that I know I won't be for at least another year or so, and I am literally homicidal about it. I think the combination of burnout, grief, fatigue and random health issues is kicking my ass big time (and by extension, Jon's and my kids').

Dee-dee-dee...cember

Well, I suppose monthly is better than quarterly or annually to keep this thing up to date.

Anyway, as you all know, things did take a turn for the marvelous last month, and our country, for a change, did the RIGHT thing and voted Obama into office. What an amazing day that was. I remember being so happy the next morning; kind of like walking around in a daze, with a big grin on my face, and being surprised not to see rainbow-colored unicorns grazing outside, flowers everywhere, balloons and cotton candy and angels singing. It just seemed that miraculous.

Although I wouldn't want that job for all the money in the world. Talk about having a mess to clean up!

Anyway, nothing terribly exciting is going on here. The main thing is I have been officially diagnosed w/Type 2 diabetes, which sucks in all kinds of ways. However, for the time being I'm doing well with diet/exercise, and I'm hoping I can manage it that way for the foreseeable future. And what the hell -- in a way it almost makes it easier KNOWING I don't have a choice; that I have to do this whether I like it or not.

The group I'm in has VASTLY improved due to changes in the membership. It's such a huge difference; I am constantly surprised by just how different it is. It certainly speaks to how bad it was before, but at least it's no longer a problem. So that's been a great thing.

Jon is still slogging away on the two publications he needs for tenure. He has one written and is almost ready to submit it; the other one is in the works and hopefully should be out this spring or summer. Then he can apply for tenure. We're a little concerned/annoyed because the colleague nearest to him in seniority was granted tenure recently, but we're fairly certain she didn't meet the publication requirements (as specified in their CONTRACTS). However, it seems that the dean of the STEM college approached the chair of the bio dept. and expressed concern that Jon hasn't published yet. Of course, with the crushing teaching load he had, it's amazing that he's finally able to do so now. So he's a little frustrated because he feels he's being held to a different standard. From time to time, though, we stop and consider the current economic/employment clusterfuck that everyone else is dealing with, especially around here, and we conclude that things could be so much worse. Then we move on.

And we're coming up on the 5th anniversary of Hannah's death. That's pretty hard. Especially because she was 5yo 9mo when she died, so next summer she will have been gone as long as she was here. That is upsetting because it seems to put her significantly farther away than she was already.

Well, off to put people to bed. More later, maybe.

NO! Vember???

Time flies!

Well, five more days until our nation either takes a turn for the better, or continues on the road to hell. I actually have some hope that Obama can pull this off. Despite the idiocy all around me (and everywhere else), it seems like people are FINALLY mobilized to make a change. Here's hoping.

Things are going reasonably well. Emily is kicking butt and taking names in first grade -- after a bit of a rough start behavior-wise and some struggles with math, she seems to have hit her stride and is doing great. I like her teachers so much better this year, too.

Max is driving me nuts -- today he napped for all of FIFTEEN MINUTES. Also he is fighting sleep as hard as he can. He's starting to be a LOT more verbal, not necessarily so you could understand him, but he's very definitely working at repeating words, and making himself understood. I think that might be part of the problem, with the sleep and all. I am just not fond of this age, overall, but I'm enjoying it more than usual, probably because he is definitely and for sure the last one, and because when Emily was this age I was still in such a fog and our lives were in such transition that I didn't really take it in. For some reason I remember more about Hannah at this stage.

I spent the afternoon painting large jagged rectangles of Biltmore Buff all over the dining room and living room walls. I think we have a winner, color-wise.

Fascinating, isn't it?