Why

Tonight I spent the evening, as I do many Wednesdays, with my (former?) in-laws. When I came home I was tired. I wanted a glass of wine and some internet surfing to ease the sting of having my decisions judged wanting. I wanted to stop thinking about what is going to happen when I go to school. To stop thinking about how I am going to swing seeing the in-laws with my new schedule, when what I would REALLY like to do is go back to seeing them WAY less often.

And then I read it. A random blog, reached through a series of links, about a family with a daughter Audrey's age who has cancer. It was eerily familiar. The tale of being sent home with a life expectancy of months. The return to the hospital and the swift ramping downward of the estimate of time left. The excessive sleeping, the morphine, the panic, the fear, the regrets. It was all there. Except this woman was talking about her baby.

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes filled. I walked (only due to a severe effort to prevent running) to check on my daughter. I sat in the dark until my eyes became accustomed and touched her back, definitely risking a wake up. Almost wishing for a wake up so that I could spirit her into my bed for cuddling and monitoring tonight. I listened to her breathe and tried not to imagine what my life would be like if she was taken from me too.

That is why. Why, despite my Mother in law's habit of annoying me, her disapprovals and the the loss of the precious time with which I could be doing something I find more rewarding and enriching, I will be finding a way for Audrey to spend time with her dad's parents. Because that was her baby who went through that. And that is her grandchild that hangs by a string that could easily be snipped by me. I will put up with a lot of things for her to have a relationship with them as long as it is mutually beneficial (for the in-laws and Audrey), even if the benefits don't always fall into my lap and the cost of the relationship is sometimes thrust on my shoulders to bear. Because she has lived that horror, and deserves the small amount of joy I can give her. How can I not give that when the only price is an afternoon of my time and some minor annoyance.

Enjoying the Rain

Someone asked me this week a question that gave me great pause. (And caused me to uncharitably think them none to bright) "What would you give to have Carl back?"

...Huh. First, let us set aside the fact that, at best, this is an awkward, tacky question. We will just ponder it for a moment.

What would I give up to have my husband back? The short answer which I am sure will leave no one satisfied is, almost anything and nothing at the same time.

Carl's death was, of course, an ordeal. In some ways one that I am still coping with. But it is not without it's own blessings as well. Death often can help us open our eyes to the people and memories that are important to us. I appreciate the things that I have more now. I make more time for the people I care about than I did before. The nine months between Carl's diagnosis and death were (for the most part) the best part of our marriage. It stripped away everything else and made us see what was important. Without Carl's death, I probably would not have Audrey.

To ponder having Carl back is like pondering a parallel life. Ultimately, the experience has changed me. Helped me grow. To pondering going back is to ponder hacking off parts of me that have blossomed under adverse conditions. I can't really fathom it. Life doesn't have a rewind button, but if it did could you push it knowing you would turn out a different person? That your child would? It is an impossible question.

The question stuck with me when I took Audrey out for a walk in the rain. I thought that my life now is all about taking a walk in the rain. I can't have Carl back and dwelling on what could have been or should have been makes me sad and resentful, I get stuck inside. Living in the fallout and trying to find the happiness in my life is like going outside and finding a great puddle to tromp through, it might be messy but it is so much more satisfying. So it is hard to imagine what I would give up to go back, because I am trying to hard too find my way forward. So, while I would probably give up anything except another person to have Carl back, what I have is pretty darn satisfying. (All sleeping issues aside.)

The Box

I hope you all can forgive this crazy picture bit, because I can't figure out how to get them on the same line. We have bread, Audrey munching bread, and just a small bit of box goodies.

As many of you probably know, I belong to a farm delivery service (kind of a like a CSA without the commitment) and get a box of produce every Friday night from the farm. The farm is called Farm Fresh to You (www.farmfreshtoyou.com) and it is an amazing little operation. Opening the box every Friday night after Audrey goes to sleep to put away my haul is always a little thrill. What will I get this week? What will Thaddeus have to say in his notes about the farm? (Because the box also has a farm news letter, you see.) It is not a roller coaster kind of excitement, but a little zing.

I have been getting my farm box for over a year now. Last year for Christmas I gave a subscription to my brother in hopes of getting him hooked, it sort of worked. I have been saddened when I read the news about the family's loss of a brother and grandmother. I was very happy for them when they had a new baby. While I am sure they don't really know me from Adam, it feels good to support a family operation and hear the news. It just feels right.

So today, I am spending some time on my every Saturday business. I must figure out how to use all this produce. And while I am at it, I need bread. So a-baking we will go.

The bread came first. Audrey helped me knead. She calls it "pushing the bread". When we bake, she is constantly eating the dough. Today was no exception. While the bread was rising it was nap time. (Really the less said about that the better, since I am currently feeling all happy and domestic.)

After that, came the plan for the week. So here it is, a snapshot of the dinner menu at Chez Boyd for the week:

Saturday - Tritip with rosemary potatoes and Broccoli*/Carrot* slaw

Sunday - Asparagus and Morel frittata with a Salad*

Monday - Pork with Wild Rice Pilaf and Squash*

Tuesday - Chicken Soup with Potatoes* and Collard Greens* with homemade Focaccia bread

Wednesday- Someone else cooks

Thursday - Beef Stroganoff with noodles and Salad*

Friday - Cashew Chicken with Rice and Bok Choy*

*all of these are veggies from the box. I used them all and then some. The farmer's market has supplemented our box with asparagus from Brentwood, and some radishes, extra carrots, and onions from Gilroy.

Tired Mommy Rant

People tell me all the time what a great mom I am. I am never quite sure if this is the truth, or the only comfort that they know how to offer me for the other losses in my life. I don't know if I would identify myself as a super mother. I am a pretty adequate mom. I am the best mom for my child, and I certainly strive to do the best I can at any given time. Sometimes I fear, the best I can do is not particularly good......especially in the middle of the night.

My child is almost 2 and a half. I have probably had less than a month of nights when she has slept through the night TOTAL. And frankly, I can't remember the last time except as a vague memory that is was sometime this last fall. This is getting old. Really old.

This summer Audrey had been starting to almost get to sleeping through the night by herself about 3-4 days a week. And then cold season started. And since October I think one of us has been getting sick, being sick or recovering non-stop and the sleeping has turned into a disaster. Now, when Audrey wakes up I briefly entertain a fantasy of duct taping her to her crib for the night. Or closing her room door and sleeping in the car. Clearly, I can't do this. The clingy, hyper-needy child that would result from that would make the whole effort not worthwhile. Oh, and it might be dangerous or get me in trouble or something.

I have briefly considered sleep training. If I leave her in her crib, Audrey will call out for a couple of minutes and then go back to sleep. But she wakes up every 15-30 mins to call out again. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I suppose if I was able to do this for a week or so, perhaps she would give up the waking, but after one night of this I am so tired and filled with irritability and anger that there is no way we can continue. A week of sleep like that would leave me suicidal or possibly homicidal. So it is far better that I get up and bring her into my bed where I have a 60-75% chance of sleeping well the rest of the night.

Last night was one of the other 25% of the time though. Wherein I bring my kid to bed and she proceeds to talk her way through the night. "Look mommy a kitty." "He is going to get a time out for not listening to his mommy." "Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear DOLPHIN." Etc, etc, etc. Coupled with occasionally trying to smother me to death by sleeping on my face. (Oh NO, sleeping next to me is definitely NOT close enough.) I think she must be mostly asleep. (Because I assure you we don't have a cat and also, no dolphin birthday parties.) This would keep me awake even if she was in her room because I am a light sleeper, she is a loud talker, and my house is postage stamp sized with our bedrooms separated by 2 feet. And after a night like last night, I am left teetering on the edge of mommy-craziness and wondering how the heck Carl gets off dying and leaving me to tend HIS child. (Because she surely gets THIS from her father.)

Also, anyone who tells me that their under 6 month old kid sleeps through the night.....I call LIAR. And if you aren't lying, I don't want to know because then I would have to hate you with the fire of a thousand burning suns....or, you know, at least envy you for a week.

Two paths

I had a very disappointing phone call with my MIL today. It has left me feeling a bit off kilter and discombobulated.

She wanted to know how my meeting with the culinary school went last week and we were discussing how I am pretty sure I am going to attend and all was going swimmingly. Until she asked me about the cost of tuition. I hesitated; I thought briefly about lying; I didn't think quickly enough on my feet to come up with a satisfyingly vague answer, so I told the truth. To which she responded, "Well, then I guess you aren't going because that is entirely too much. It's ridiculous and you wouldn't throw that money away." During the course of our remaining conversation she managed to very effectively convey without actually speaking the words that Her Son didn't work his bottom off for that money so that I could piss it away.

It was a sad conversation for me. The truth is, I have always really liked my MIL. She is a very nice woman with a good heart and she is a wonderful grandma to my child. However, my conversation today has driven home the knowledge that we don't agree on many things and there are somethings that I just need to keep to myself. It is sad because one of the things that I miss most about the teamwork of marriage is having someone to discuss large life decisions with, and maybe I have tried too hard to slot my in-laws and my parents into that role. Pushing them in as square pegs into a round peg hole.

It also makes me more acutely aware of how our paths are diverging, with the exception of the link of the grandchild between us. May will bring 3 years that Carl has been dead, by the end of the year the amount of time that he has been dead will surpass the amount of time we spent married. Slowly, my life is changing and those changes are sometimes things her son would have disliked. Her focus is to keep his memory alive, mine is to have a full life and teach my child how to have joy and follow her dreams. Even if sometimes that means giving away something that was hard won and/or cherished by him.

Meetings

Last night I attended my first meeting for the Relay for Life team. It was a nice meeting and it was great to meet the team members I don't know and other mother's from the Livermore Mom's group. It also brought up a lot of feelings about Carl's death.

To their credit, none of the women there responded with either pity or platitudes about how strong I must be. Those thoughts or statements never sit quite right with me and end up weighing on my shoulders when they are offered. I think it is always uncomfortable to be pitied, and whenever someone tells me how strong I am I feel like a fraud.

Asking to share my story stirred up a lot of things that I don't think about that often. The initial denial of the diagnosis. (Of COURSE it's not cancer, it is going to just be a benign tumor, they will remove it and everything will be fine.) Getting pregnant, not entirely on purpose or by accident, when we were still a little in denial that the "post surgical changes" in the CAT scan was maybe not necessarily a recurrence of the cancer. The need to FIGHT to get anything done as the doctors discussed and studied the options to death while Carl's tumor grew bigger by the day with no treatment. The fights with Carl about trying to fight when he had resigned himself to death. The numbness of new widowhood when your skin just hangs on you wrong and you feel like you have stepped into an alternate world in which everything is just shifted slightly and you can't quite get your bearings.

I think widowhood, or maybe it is just profound grief, changes a person. Even now I have a hard time feeling like a part of a group. No matter how welcoming or wonderful the people are, there is always a veil between me and the rest of the world. I have heard that people who have lost a parent feel some of the same thing. You have joined a group that those who are not in it have a hard time imaging how fundamentally it has rocked your world.

Every time I am attending a get together where I am going to meet someone new, I always think that maybe this time will be the time I DON'T tell them I am a widow. Maybe this time I will just not bring it up, when husband's enter the conversation I will just be silent and let them draw their own conclusions. In the end I always end up telling them my husband died. Usually around the time they start to ask about whether Audrey will have a brother or sister some day. Maybe it is because I am still trying to process that this is part of my story. Somedays it is an excuse for something I feel is a less than ideal parenting decision. And sometimes it is just because I feel the need to clarify why I am a single mom before other assumptions are made about me.

Squash it.

I have been staring down a growing pile of squash in my kitchen for some time. My farm box in the winter has a lot of squashes, and they are always one of the first things to be left over because they age so well. It is also hard for me to use them because Audrey doesn't really like them and they are a little too starchy to serve with another starch as side, particularly when one family member needs diabetic friendly meals, so often they sit for a while.

But I was inspired today. I figured that I like butternut squash more than pumpkin and actually find it sweeter than pumpkin so why not use some of it in a sweet application?

So I made "pumpkin" cookies with pureed roasted butternut squash. And they were pretty darn yummy. I think they were a little sweeter than the pumpkin, so I may have to cut the sugar in half if I make this substitution for other things, but that doesn't hurt either.

Maybe tomorrow we will try the "pumpkin" carrot bars.

Changes are afoot

This week I enrolled in culinary school. Somehow, I had hoped that making a decision and moving forward with my choice would make me feel less stressed about the changes that need to happen in my life. This did not happen. If anything, I feel a little more anxious.

Attending school means that I can no longer afford a lazy, unhurried morning routine with my child. Instead we will have a concrete deadline every morning. I have committed to spending a large amount of cash on a degree that may lead to a career path that is less than suitable for a single mom, and certainly pays less than the Accounting degree I have considered in the past. I have agreed to spend a large amount of my time commuting into the city to attend classes.

But, I have dreamed of doing this since I was a child. When I was 10 I sold my own homemade cookies to my neighbors and delivered them fresh from the oven. When I was in high school, I convinced my friends NOT to make reservations for dinner before the homecoming dance so that I could cook, in my dress, for the lot of us. As an adult, I have sometimes bossily maneuvered others into letting me teach them to cook......whether they wanted to or not.

So I will go and give this a go. Maybe it will be the best career decision ever, or maybe it will be just a way for me to take a little more time for myself before getting my accounting degree and returning to the world I inhabited before Carl got sick. Hopefully, this change will work out for me in the manner that so many before it have; I will start school and wonder why on earth I was so stressed and waited so long because it turned out to be really easy.