Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Ell Oh Vee Eeh

I'm so lonely for my family.
Even my husband whom I live with.
He works nights and I work on call, whenever, whatever and most weekends.
I tried to pack for him today and instead, wound up crying in a pile of clothes that smelled like him.
It's pretty pathetic, when the most profound interaction I had with him this week was, doing his laundry.

My boys had been playing in the back yard when they both ran into the house and went into the bathroom together. I heard cupboards opening and much discussion and after a few minutes, they ran back outside.
When I corralled them later, I asked about the strange bathroom incidence.
"Twin A got a sliver and I helped him get it out."
"OK, whoa, I'm the Mom, that's MY job! I'm supposed to do that, plus it needs to be cleaned and bandaged and...are you guys just getting too old?"
Twin A &B both climb on my lap with snugglies and Twin B says, "Mom, we need you for the comfort."

My oldest daughter is going through some tough times. It's never easy to be a teen. Especially when her friend just killed himself, her and boyfriend of 9 months broke up and she has a new niece with serious health issues. Her grades are suffering for the first time ever.
I've been dragging her out of her bedroom for lattes, retail therapy and any other reason I can think of.
I'm starting to get worried, and I hope this next week that we'll spend with our Utah family, with intense lovey supporty huggy shit will help snap her out of it. Plus, just the two of us are driving her new (new 1979 Mercedes diesel that my brother bought and restored for her) car home from Utah. I'm really looking forward to fourteen hours alone in the car with her at max. 55 MPH, seriously.

My thirteen year old remains perfect, with general awesomeness. I worry that she doesn't get enough time from me, because she just excels in every way. So I've been chasing her down lately with extra "comfort" and so far she isn't protesting.

All of the kittens except Tom The Runt found really good homes. They all went with good people/friends. Poor Tom The Runt is stuck with us. He just took so much work to keep alive, that I couldn't give him away. Ever the hard ass that I am.
He thinks he's half dog half human, because that's all he's really known. When I take the dogs out to pee, he has to go too and is a pretty good supervisor.

That's all for now folks. I'm off to Utah to snuggle the newest and oldest members of my family...and everyone in between.
I'll be sure to post more obnoxious pictures when I get back.

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Friday, November 09, 2007

Peanuts and CrackerJacks

I know, I know, you're all tired of my goopy love shit family pictures, so here is something else you probably don't care about:

I grew up in Utah (to this day doesn't have a MLB team.) I hadn't ever been to a MLB game, and didn't know much if anything about the sport.
My oldest sister played softball at Snow College, and that was just about my entire baseball/softball experience.

I moved to Seattle when I was nineteen and got a job at a Boeing subcontractor as a receiving supervisor. The big shipping companies would try to schmooze us by handing out Mariners tickets.
I thought, free is good, and I'll try anything once.
Hooked.
I got about two free tickets a week and then bought the rest for every home game.
Seriously. Hooked.
Then I started a company softball team.
I was single at the time, so I took my daughters with me and supplied them up with a cooler full of snacks/drinks, coloring books and a beach umbrella so they wouldn't get beaned.
(Mommy is at bat, eat your Cheetos!)
I played until we couldn't anymore, because of some lame ass insurance reasons.


When I was five feet around and almost 10 months pregnant with my twins, I went to the very last Mariners game at the Kingdome. It took me quite awhile because I was in a lot of pain and my sister had to help me get to our seats. They lost of course, but you expect that when you're a Mariners fan.
I went into labor with my boys that morning at 3am.
I was also at the first ever rained out game at The Safe, because the roof malfunctioned.
I used to take binoculars to the games...honestly, to get a better look at hot man ass in baseball pants.
I'm not ashamed.

I thought it was pretty cool that they kept the same staff from the Kingdome when they moved to the Safe. The peanut man had a wicked change up and the Red Dog beer man knew he could always talk me into one.

My new found love of Baseball was one of the hardest reasons I had moving to Eastern Washington.
I long for the Jay Buhner, Edgar Martinez, Randy Johnson, Dan Wilson, Joey Cora, and above all, Lou Pinella days.

I got the first three of Ken Burns Baseball DVD's from Netflix today.
I watched the first one, and am trying to post this while I'm itching (or maybe its time for another Benadryl, damn kittens!) to watch the other two.
My Golden Retriever, Moses, now has a full name that I can yell at him when he is in trouble:
Moses Fleetwood Walker, don't you even piss on my boxwood's!

It's barely November and I have m o n t h s to go (pronounced "Muh Uhn Thes" with a pathetic groan at the end.)
Another reason to HATE winter.
Both of my daughters play tournament Softball with year round practice, but I'm a junkie and junkies need MORE!
In a very Molly Shannon way, I just might dig out my old cleats...or maybe one of my daughters bat bags, but NEVER a slider, those fuckers are rank.

P.S. Rockies...seriously?

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Thursday, November 08, 2007

1 month and 83 years

My one month old niece and my 83 year old Grandma.

So much love, so little time.

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Friday, November 02, 2007

ouch and why

This is a little jumbled, deal with it.

One of my daughters friends killed himself this week.

She was at her best friends house when she found out. Her best friend's dad is a paramedic and went out to the call.

She's almost sixteen but has spent the last few days on my lap.

It's just a whole lot of reality that I wish she didn't have to face so soon.
I know all of the stages of grief, but it is incredibly difficult to watch my daughter go through them.
I've also worked with this boys Mother and Sister for six+ years at the hospital, and although I only knew him by name, I know them very well.

I'm torn up about what they are going through.
He was missing for a for half a day, didn't show up at school and when his Mother went home from work early to search for him, she found him on the side of their house.
(really painful story about how this Nurse mother first thought he fallen and struck his head, then thought someone had shot him, then eventually realized that he had shot himself...)

Our community has really rallied.
The counselors from every school in the district have been at the high school all week. The local ministries have also volunteered their time. The hospital employees are providing all of the food needs for the service and are donating personal time hours for time off.

My daughter has skipped her sixth period band class everyday this week to practice with the chamber choir who will be singing at his funeral this Saturday. I finally wrote a note to her band teacher to explain and he called me to tell me that he had already understood and excused her.

I personally went right to the anger stage and am stuck there.
What a selfish act.
This boy had everything going for him. He had an amazing family, support system, loads of friends and chose not to use them...
  • Saddle your survivors with intense guilt, self-doubt, and self-recrimination with the belief that they could have done something to stop you.
  • Leave survivors who believe that since you committed suicide that they are also destined to do so themselves in the future.
  • Spark the imagination of a survivor who sees how much attention your suicide is getting and wants similar attention so goes out and commits a copy-cat suicide for the sick need of sharing the spotlight and getting the same quick solution as you did.
  • Influence others who are sitting on the fence to go ahead with their suicides since someone else has succeeded in ending it all. (www.coping.org)
I recognize that a lot of my anger is fear fueled.
It's so scary to be a Mom and you just can't love your kids enough.

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