Right Here, Right Now

I have about 5 posts-worth of material in me right now, but I'm going to edit down.

I have amazing friends.  They are the absolute best.  On Thursday I got flowers from some to commemorate the day I married my best friend.  I got texts sending love, just as I do on the "sadiversary" each month.  One sends me ridiculous books to take my mind off the heavy stuff (grief, stats class, whatever!)  They are always offering to help with Max and Maddy.  They're sending their husbands to paint Max's room.  On Thursday night, my big group of girlfriends here in Chicago came over to be with me and my MIL.  I wasn't sure if it was going to be a tear-fest or what.  I pulled the wedding albums, and they all came in the shirts our one friend made for the softball team we played on (well, I played for one or two seasons...but I did go cheer him on when it wasn't too hot!) - light blue (JP's favorite color), with Red Sox logo and the team name (Happy Hour), and JP's initials.  We all put them on and took a picture:

It was a great night.  I had some emotional conversations with girls one-on-one, but for the most part we just drank (a lot) and laughed.  A very fitting tribute to JP and to our relationship.  He would be glad to know that our friends are taking such good care of me.

The following day, my Big Scary Statistics Case Study was assigned.  But I was feeling very strongly that I should be making the most of each day.  Did I want to look back and remember how I spent my MIL's whole visit shut in my room doing homework, or did I want to do fun things with her and Max, and make the most of the end of the nice weather?  

We went to the Nature Museum and checked out the wonderful butterfly habitat.  Max loved it.  

On Saturday we went to Apple Fest.  It was cold, so we made quick work of it, gulping down hot apple cider and stuffing our faces with delicious apple pie.  And my MIL left, my parents arrived, and I got a little mental health time with a widow friend.  It makes me sad that I know someone else in this shitty boat, but after a crazy week stressing about my parents being gone, the dog having therapy and surgery (tooth extraction) and trying to manage more Max time and school and cooking, etc., it was good to be with someone who Gets It.  And to drink a lot of wine with her ;)

Sunday was Max's first trip to the circus.  Not the Big Top - it was this little traveling troupe with costumes that mostly looked like 80s dance recital leftovers, and music that sounded like a Quentin Tarantino soundtrack (and at times a 70s porno soundtrack...)  Max loved it.  He danced, he marveled at the acrobatic feats, he barked at the dog jumping through hoops.  It was so fun, and he loved seeing all the other kids, of course.  We even had a celebrity sighting - the guy who plays Steve in SATC (he's in that new show Chicago Fire).

After the circus, I left Max with my parents and went out for some wine time with a few friends.  I may need to detox for a while!

Last night I dreamt about JP.  It's only the 3rd dream I've had of him (that I have recalled upon waking, at least).  And it was frustrating.  The part that featured him was brief.  He was in a car, and was going to lodge a complaint with a candy company about a hard candy they made (I think they were cough drops - I went to bed with a sore throat and in the dream I remember them tasting like the Burt's Bees lozenges) with a flavor called "Glass Cleaner" (I know - gross).  I can't remember exactly what his beef was with the company, whether it was that his company already had a candy with the flavor, or that it was false advertising because it didn't taste like glass cleaner...but I kept trying to get in the car with him, and he kept telling me that I couldn't go with him because he wasn't really there.  Even in the dream I knew it was because he's dead.  I woke up feeling so frustrated - why can't I at least experience one of his hugs, or just sharing a space with him, in my dreams?

Now I'm just trying to get through this case study.  Until Friday at 12pm (or whenever I give up on making any more progress), that is my sole focus.  I have no idea whether I even understand what I'm being asked to do, which scares me.  But at the same time...I kind of feel like I just need to pass.  It's one class.  One assignment.  I've done what I can today, and will resume tomorrow.  For now, I'm going to put sheets on my bed because I've been sleeping on top of my comforter since Saturday!

Wedding Anniversary

Today would have been our 4th wedding anniversary.

Our wedding was the most fun day of my life (and second Best overall - second only to the day I had Max).  It was seriously perfect.  We were married at The Wequassett on Cape Cod.  It's an absolutely gorgeous place.  The weather was spectacular - after a few cold, rainy days (and followed by a few more) in the aftermath of some hurricane or other, the day of the wedding was mid-70s and sunny.  Most of my pictures aren't on this computer, but I'll share a few:

One of my favorites from the ceremony

Husband and wife

 Oops!

 Wedding party

 The Vegas table - wonder if we put the wild ones there...

 First dance - we got up there and the dance lessons did no good - he said "you have to lead!" and I did.

But he got the dip right!

 Relieved to have the first dance over with...

Silly tradition among my Swedish relatives...singing "The Pizza Hut" song...

 No formal occasion is complete without a human pyramid, right?

I remember feeling this indescribable feeling of peace during the ceremony.  It was just so perfect.  There's one picture, similar to the top one here, where my eyes are almost closed and I'm smiling at JP.  It sort of sums up the way I felt - overflowing with love and serenity.  It was a surreal sensation - breathing in the Cape air, which just has a fresh, clean, lovely quality to it; looking into his eyes and thinking "wow, we're doing this!"  Surrounded by our loved ones - a perfect start to an amazing new chapter in our lives.  

At one point during the ceremony, one of our flower girls shouted in her cute little voice, "there's an ant in my hair!" and then, "And I threw it on the ground!"  It was hilarious.  We also sort of messed up on the hand-off from my dad to JP - as soon as I got up there, JP and I kissed, which of course is not supposed to happen until the end of the ceremony.  But it just felt so right.

The reception was so fun.  It was a day wedding, so people could go outside and enjoy the weather and the gorgeous view of the harbor.  People say your wedding day is such a whirlwind that you don't remember any of it, but I remember just telling myself to breathe, take it in, and enjoy it.  And I did.  The food was great (and I ate every bite), and it was just so much fun.  As was the after-party, where our friends and younger relatives really let loose.  

The next day, we were flying back to Chicago, but stayed at my MIL's house too long watching Red Sox and Patriots games, and JP ended up missing the flight because he had to return the rental car.  The funny thing was that they had switched me to another flight originally and he called and put up a stink about it being our first flight as husband and wife...

I think back to that sunny September Saturday and all the promise it held.  We were so excited about what lay ahead.  We promised "'til death do us part," and it did, far too soon, but in so many ways I know he is still here with me.  In my heart, and in my soul, and in our little Max.  

Buddy, I love you.  And I miss you.  And I promise that September 20 will always be a day that I dedicate to remembering and honoring our life together.

Where's the Fast-Forward Button??

I really would like to be able to fast forward to a time when the "sadiversaries" don't hit me like a double-whammy punch in the nose/kick in the gut.  Yesterday was brutal.  I found myself crumpling against the wall, weeping.  Tears streamed down my face while walking the dogs.  I went through a pile of tissues last night while writing a letter to JP.  It. Fucking. Sucked.  7-month mark plus the 5-year anniversary of our engagement = too much, man.

Plus it was exhausting not having my parents here!  Max was great for his Grammy, but at the end of the day, when he's tired, he wants Mommy.  And Mommy is trying to juggle all the dog stuff, domestic stuff, and school stuff.  Mommy is tired!  On top of everything, I had my TV installed yesterday.  Which took a few hours and cost $500.  And I still can't get the remote to work the TV.  And they hooked it up to my parents' blu-ray player, so I probably have to buy them one (or convince them to use my old DVD player).  And then Max was not his usual easy self when we went out to dinner.  Thanks, Max.

Today was less of an emotional body-slam, but it was Exhausting.  Started with a killer workout at Crossfit (which involved 90 burpees!), followed by a trip to Whole Foods, and on the way home I managed to lose the loaf of bread I bought.  Then some homework, made lunch for Max, took each dog for a second walk of the day, and then we went to two playgrounds, where we saw zero other kids!  Max still had fun.  And after my MIL told me how gross sandbox sand is because cats get in it and leave lots of bacteria, we both watched as Max played in the sand and then sucked his thumb.  Eh, he's a city boy.  Gotta build up those immunities...to cat bacteria (ew, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth).  Damn you, feral cats.

Anyhoo, that was followed by a scream session while Grammy tried to give Max his pre-nap bottle (he finally caved and slept), and more homework (stats - glargh!), during which we watched the Patriots suck it big time and lose a game they should have won easily.  Right as we were sitting down to dinner, the carbon monoxide alarm started beeping.  And I have no ladder.  Finally got the caretaker to come out, and the one thing that went my way today was that I had a 9v battery for it.

I still have work for my class tomorrow.  I am Freaking the F out about the stats case study being assigned this week.  I'm not doing as well in my classes as I would like.  My dog is quickly deteriorating.  I'm just overwhelmed, and I would really just like to hit fast-forward to a point where I'm feeling settled.  Where I'm working, doing something I'm good at, providing for my little guy.  Where I feel competent and confident.

But in the meantime, I am so loving watching Max be the awesome little rock star that he is.  He is seriously so cute and funny and wonderful.  And even though this week I am worrying about getting my work done and having enough hours and brainpower to get through everything, it is sort of nice to be spending more time with him.  I mean, who can really complain about that, right?  Because in the long run, am I going to say "boy I sure am glad I spent those extra hours trying to puzzle out some piece of statistics for a couple of points higher on one assignment when NO ONE even looks at grad school grades" or am I going to remember the fun we had when Grammy Gail came to visit?  I need to remember to apply this thinking to every day.  Because school stress + grief = bad.  Quality time with my little ham and my sweet pup = good.  For them and for me.

Yeah.  So.  Back to one last item before I indulge in some reading (Outlander) and much-needed sleep.

Taking a Deep Breath

I am trying not to get too stressed out about the next seven days.

My parents leave tomorrow, and my MIL will be staying with me.  While I know it will be fun to have her here, and I'm excited for her to see how fun Max is, I am feeling very unprepared.  With my parents, the deal is that my mom takes care of Max while I do my school work (or take Maddy to therapy, or do Crossfit, or even sometimes attend social events).  Doesn't matter if he's sick or just cranky - I hand him over and don't have to worry.  But my MIL is not going to be able to just take him and leave me to my scholarly pursuits.  For the first time since school started, I am going to be responsible for all his meals/snacks, naps, activities, baths, etc.  Plus my school work, which includes a big Stats case study (and I am terrified).  Plus two dogs that need to go out (separately) at least 3 times a day each, and Maddy's therapy, and all the rigamarole that goes into getting her ready to go outside.  And I'm trying to schedule a time for someone to measure to fix something on one of the sliding glass doors, and someone to come install my big TV.  And Maddy needs to go to her regular vet...

And I was hoping to get all my studying done before tomorrow.  And that didn't happen.

And on top of that, tomorrow is the 5th anniversary of when JP proposed.  AND the 7-month mark.  That will be brutal.  And the 20th would have been our 4th wedding anniversary.  Even more brutal.

I think my MIL knows that things are pretty crazy here with school and Maddy and whatnot, but I really hope she's not expecting to get here and me have lots of activities planned.  I know I won't be able to say "here's the stroller, the park is that way, I'm doing some stats homework, have fun."  But she does know that she's coming here to help me, and hey, she will get lots of time with Max!

Deep breaths...it will all work out just fine.

A Day of Reflection...

The anniversary of 9/11 was always an important one to JP.  Anyone describing him would certainly mention his patriotism in their first breath.  He loved this great country of ours.  Basically the only books he ever read were American historical accounts.  It was no wonder he worked in government affairs.  I hope that I will be able to instill in Max such a profound love of our country and those who defend it.  I will certainly try.

On this 11th anniversary of the indescribable tragedy that rocked our nation to its core, I hope that all Americans took some time to pause and reflect on what transpired that awful day, and how it has shaped us - as individuals and as a nation.  Others have said it more eloquently than I ever could, but on this anniversary I always try to sit for a moment, whether it's a minute or an hour, and think back to the events that unfurled that morning, and the shockwaves that continue to ripple through our national identity, and through the world at large.

Until about 7 months ago, I never could grasp what those who lost their loved ones experienced.  Now I think about the pain and grief I am going through, and when I try to multiply that by the thousands, it amazes me that the sheer vast and sudden explosion of grief didn't cause some sort of cosmic phenomenon: a black hole opening up in the New York sky and swallowing the entire planet; the sound barrier being broken by so many hearts being shattered at once.

Today I am awed and inspired by those survivors who did not fall to their knees, wringing their hands, and reaching for the bottle of Xanax - who instead answered the call to arms (both literally and figuratively), and went after the enemy with battle horns blaring.

Of course, for them, there was an enemy.  And I'm not saying that's better.  Or worse.  It's just different.  Sometimes I wish I had someone, something to blame.  A cause to fight or speak out against.  But at the end of the day, I'm just pointing my fingers at...bad luck?  Fate?

Anyway, I hope today was easier for those who lost someone than last year, or the year before.  I hope they are finding peace and strength in fond memories.  I hope they are living full and happy lives, and honoring the ones they lost - not just today, but every day.

Treading Water

When I was really young, my parents took me on a nature hike, and while they were (I assume) birdwatching, I filled my pockets with rocks.  And then I managed to fall into a pond.  I was treading water, saying "help me, help me" until they noticed and pulled me out.  This is how my parents found out that I could swim...

Two weeks into grad school, as a full-time student (which means I take 3 classes which each meet once per week) who is not new to the city, who is not working at all, and who has ready and willing childcare, I am already feeling completely overwhelmed.  This time, though, I'm expected to know how to not only tread water, but do the 400 IM.

Unlike most of my "cohort" as they call your class, I did not graduate from college recently.  The last time I wrote anything in APA style or even thought about (never mind worked with) statistics was over 10 years ago.  That's a decade.  That's a long time.

I expected to have a rough time with Stats.  After all, in college, my lab partner and I may have been referred to as "team idiot" by our TA.  I partly blame our professor (no joke - he only lasted a year, and it was very common for him to be apologizing for giving us the wrong information), but Stats is just not my strong suit.  I love the idea of stats - using formulas to support or refute hypotheses - how cool is that?  And when I read my text book (which was written by a Brit, which means that in my head I have to read it in a British accent, which makes the reading take about twice as long, but also twice as entertaining...) it all seems to make some sense.  In class, it makes sense, more or less.  And then I get home and try to actually do my homework and my head basically explodes.

So that sucks, but I expected it to suck.

However, I kind of had this expectation that I would be somewhat of a star pupil in my other classes.  One is a professional development seminar and the other is Organizational Behavior, which is what I find so interesting about Industrial/Organizational Psychology.  I figured my passion for the material would help me turn back into the girl who could easily speed-read and synthesize material, who could bang out a kick-ass paper at the last minute (but who would be doing said banging well in advance of deadlines), and whose somewhat photogenic memory would reappear to assist with some of the Stats work...

This week I have received a serious Reality Check.

First, my presentation group for my OB class thought we were presenting on the 17th...but we're presenting on Monday.  So I have spent hours scouring the frustrating e-library system for articles and attempting to use PowerPoint for basically the first time (I know, I know...)  Meanwhile, my teammates, with whom I will share a grade, may not have even read the chapter we're presenting on yet.

Next, I handed in a Stats assignment without thinking about APA style formatting.  And the formatting is just the tip of the iceberg...

And on top of that, my Big Research Paper topic for my seminar is due Wednesday.  So far I've circled about 10 broad subjects and have thought of zero problem statements.

But the worst part about all this is that I feel like I'm hardly spending any time at all with Max, and I've sort of put my grieving on hold.  I just don't have time to cry when there is a pile of case studies that I have to read.  And I can tell myself "I've learned my lesson and once I get past this presentation, I'm going to be diligent about getting my work done right away so I have time to spend with Max"... But the reality is that Maddy goes to therapy 3 times a week, and even when it's just 30 minutes of therapy, it takes almost 2 hours from when I start getting her geared up to when I take all the trappings of her degenerative myelopathy off of her.  And the reality is that as soon as I get past one big school project, the next will come.  And the reality is that the week after next my parents are out of town, and while I will have my MIL here, I'm not going to be able to do much in the way of school work during the day.  And the reality is...I am just going to have to get used to playing catch-up.

So here I am, at midnight on a Friday night, enjoying a glass of wine because I feel like I deserve it after turning in two homework assignments.  I still have another formal written homework assignment, two more informal ones, my presentation to finish, the paper topic, a quiz to take, and a boatload of reading.  I guess if there is one thing that I have learned over and over, it's that "things will get done because they HAVE TO."

A Picture Worth 1000 Words

Last night I showed Max the photo of him with his Daddy that I finally put in a "Daddy and Me" frame and placed on his new bookshelves.  His reaction melted my heart, and turned me into a puddle of tears - he said "Ah!" and gave JP's face a big kiss.

I often worry that in the chaos that is raising (or just keeping up with) a toddler, I'm not living up to my promise of making sure Max learns about his father the way I want him to.  I haven't gotten around to collecting stories about JP from friends/family/colleagues, but I have a lovely book that was put together by some of JP's college friends.  I do have lots of pictures of JP around the house, and when I can relate a tidbit about him without falling apart, I do.  And my parents are diligent about that as well.

Seeing how excited he gets when he sees a picture of JP makes me wonder if Max does have some sort of memory of his father.  We know so little about that type of cognitive function in babies.  It's probably just wishful thinking.  His reactions to the pictures of Daddy are probably the result of the reaction he gets when he points to JP's face or makes a happy sound when shown a photo.  But I kind of like telling myself that on some basic level, in a way that we won't ever understand or be able to explain, he does know his father's love.  After all, he is the living reminder and the wonderful physical legacy JP left behind.

Laboring Away

Today's national holiday celebrates the social and economic achievements of workers in America.  This great country was able to become a bastion of free enterprise and prosperity through the dedication and back-breaking efforts of our hard-working ancestors.  But up until the 1800's, many American workers experienced only the work part of the work-life balance.  Thanks to the formation of unions, these workers found a collective voice, and were able to negotiate a 6-day, 60-hour work week.  From there they worked to further improve wages, hours...and yada yada yada, here we are in 2012 when "union" is a four-letter word.  Don't get me wrong, I applaud the labor movement for what they stood for, for what they accomplished for this country.  And I absolutely believe in fair compensation for folks who work hard, and do a good job.  But I do think that a lot of the negative connotations that the word "union" carries are legit.  To me, labor unions seem to be nothing but a bunch of bullies representing primarily mediocre performers who bitch and moan until they get something extra for no extra effort.  For example, the condo I'm currently renting is part of a larger association and the whole block of buildings is currently undergoing some (very loud) masonry work.  The property management company informed the owners of the upcoming project, which is a Huge special assessment, and told them what the cost would be, and what the cost would be to each unit's owner.  Our landlord requested to see the details of the proposed contract.  Yup, they were just going to go ahead with a union group, and probably didn't even bother to consider anything else.  This guy requested that they consider other bids, and ended up finding a non-union group at half the cost.  

And to come back from my tangent...

 

No class today due to the holiday (the origin of which I am certain no one thinks about the way they do with Memorial Day or the 4th of July), but I ended up working my brain extra hard while others were out enjoying BBQs (or the Polish Festival, which is where my mom took Max!).  I stupidly procrastinated on my homework, and found myself with a whole lot of statistics to work on before class tomorrow.  Yuck!  Needless to say, it was not the most enjoyable holiday.  But I did learn an important lesson, and that is not to put off my work until the day before class!  Grad school, even a program designed with a working student body in mind, is not like college.  And with Max, I can't afford to not be spreading my work out over the course of the week. 

And with that, I should probably get started on the work that's due for my Wednesday class.

Dog Walk

Scene: the grassy area behind my block of buildings between the condo buildings and garages.  I'm wearing my pajamas (lime green t-shirt, bright aqua shorts - not exactly subtle), complete with toothpaste on the shirt.  I haven't touched my ponytail, and there are lumps and pieces sticking out all over.  My face looks...tired.  And busted.  I'm struggling to get Maddy to walk in her new "flippers" - basically braces for her legs that have rubber bands hooked around her toenails to keep her feet from flipping over, or knuckling.  The brace part chafes her legs, so she has socks on under them, as well as her huge harness that resembles a life jacket and has two handles on top so I can help her up stairs, or keep her from falling in it when she is doing her business...

One of the families from the building next door emerges - mom is fresh from the shower, looking casual but nice in white shorts and a flowy top; dad is dressed much like JP (khaki shorts, polo, baseball cap); daughter is probably about 2, and she says good morning to Maddy.  They're out for a walk with their dog.  Watching them stroll down the street, the picture of the happy family, I just got so sad.  That tableau is exactly what I had imagined for my little family - out for a walk on a holiday weekend with our dog and baby.  Instead, my parents are the ones who take Max out in his stroller, and I am the subject of the neighbors' pity when they see me out with my crippled dog in all her contraptions, with her bleeding toes.   

I see little reminders of the future I had hoped for, which is no longer possible, all the time.  I know that regardless of what comes next for us, there is always going to be that twinge of sorrow when I see dads pushing strollers, or playing ball with their sons, happy families out to eat...

And it just pretty much sucks.

Here is Maddy in her finery: