One big giant happy sandwich



When my grandma Betty died this past April, my mom informed me that I had just joined the ranks of the sandwich generation... and that she had just left it behind.

THE SANDWICH:

Your parents

YOU

Your children

Slice into pretty wedges and serve on an attractive salad plate.

My therapist seems to think that I should be bothered by the fact that my parents need me from time to time.  That I should feel resentful that I have to help them from time to time, and that my brother, who lives an hour away, can't help out as much.

Nope.  I don't agree.  I am not bothered by that.  I get upset by other things.  I get upset when my mother doesn't call me in the middle of the night and instead drives herself to the emergency room at 2 am.  I get upset when my dad does heavy lifting by himself instead of calling me.  I am not bothered in the least that my brother lives an hour away.  He is close enough to come help if need be, and he always comes.  I will be upset if he moves away.  Because he is my brother and I love him.  Not because he won't be able to help me if/when I need it.

I think my therapist has it all wrong.  I believe she is coming from a perspective that isn't quite in line with mine.  She is a working mom, and her time is limited.  Although I feel like my time is limited, there is nothing standing in the way of me dropping what I am doing and coming to help at a moments notice.  Except maybe a diaper change.  But I have been known to load kids in the car, stinky diaper and all, just so I could get there.

My parents have had a rough year, each in their own way.  My mother took an 8 week trip to NZ and Australia at the beginning of this year, and ever since she got back, her body is just fighting her every step of the way.  Endless GI problems, a surgery to remove her gall bladder and degenerative discs in her lower back are making life difficult.  She can't lift grand kids or heavy boxes.  My dad went through congestive heart failure a couple years back, and it has been a long road ever since.  He hurt his back earlier this year as well, yet he refuses most offers of help.  He does lift the grand kids - but he shouldn't.  I make repeated offers to send over child labor but he won't take the bait. 

When my dad looked around at all of the different family members present at grandma's funeral last week, he remarked to me later on that it dawned on him that he was now one of the oldest family members there - with the exception of his cousin Everett.  That just put things into a completely different perspective.

I hate to say this - I mean it physically  hurts to say this, but it feels like my parents have aged so much this year.  Maybe it is because they both lost their remaining parent.  Maybe it is just coincidence.  But my sandwich just grew a little top heavy.  Do I lay awake at night and worry?  Yes.  Can I do anything about it?  No.  So why worry?  I don't know.  I just do.  I worry that I won't be around in a moment of need.  I worry that I don't do enough.  I worry enough that I try to call every day just to make sure nobody has fallen and can't get up.  It's the constant worry that bogs me down emotionally.  Not the extra responsibility.  I just don't know how to let the worry go and let life happen.  I will try to 'be' in the present and not the future.  

So here is my attempt to 'be' in the present.  Funny story: Last night my dad came over with his neighbor's air compressor to help us blow out our sprinkler system.  After fussing at him for loading it into his SUV all by himself, we set about getting the job done.  All four kids dragged out every last single thing with wheels from the garage and went up and down the sidewalk as we worked.  Rylan came up to 'Pa-pa' on her scooter and delivered him a pretend pizza.  Then she said, with a smile, "That will be one dollar please!".  My dad thought that was hilarious.  Later on, as a very tired Colin went up to dad and requested to be picked up with his customary knee-squeeze and "uh-uh-uh" sound, Colin immediately laid his head down on dad's shoulder and was motionless.  This lasts for approximately 6 seconds and then he wiggles because he wants down.  Dad made the most of it.  He said to me, "I love it when he just lays his head down like this..."

I do too.



Muffin Tin Monday on a Sunday

This was my sad attempt at a Muffin Tin last Monday.  My heart just wasn't in it...  The Dirt-in-a-cup took every ounce of creative juice I had (that's a stretch), so I visited the Family Fun website for inspiration.  I was looking for something other than a dessert.  I had virtually no food in the fridge, despite visiting the grocery store four times over the weekend.  It was a miracle that I had potatoes and cream cheese on hand, so this is what I could dish out on the fly...

Left-over chili from dinner last Sunday night, with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese.  I LOVE chili.  The little kids do not.  Today they had to suffer.  Because it was all I had.  I sliced the smallish-sized Yukon Gold potatoes in half, brushed them with olive oil, sprinkled with Mrs. Dash and baked them at 350 F for 25 min.  They looked good and smelled good.  I let them cool for about 10-15 min., spread some cream cheese on them and then went out the garden to pick some chives.  Arranging them into two eyes and a mouth was a major pain-in-the-ass.  But they looked nice!  They didn't taste nice though.  I forgot to check to see if the potatoes were done.  They were still crunchy.  I H-A-T-E crunchy potatoes.  Yuck.  They only nibbled and so did I.  I had some lovely, old, dried out baby carrots in the bottom of the produce drawer.    The only winner here was the caramel apples.  I haven't had these since I was a kid myself - and you still make them the same way!  For Rylan's and Owen's apple, I cored it and then covered it in the caramel sheet (no stick).  I cut it in half after I pulled it from the oven.  A whole one would have been too much.  I gave Colin some plain apple slices because you never ever ever ever give a toddler caramel.  Unless you are prepared for some intense scrubbing.  Of every surface in your house.  Owen did marginally well with this lunch.  Rylan ate the caramel off of her apple.  And maybe one bean out of her chili.

The sad thing is that they didn't even recognize that the potatoes were ghosts.   Fail.

Oktoberfest



I just googled images of Oktoberfest beer, and I think I saw more images of boobs than beer.  We'll stick with the beer.  You're welcome.

Two weeks ago our family celebrated Oktoberfest for the first time.  It was a gorgeous fall afternoon - albeit a little too hot, but that just makes the cold beer taste even better.  My Dad just celebrated his 69th birthday, it's Oktoberfest time, and Thanksgiving is just around the corner... a good reason to have a party.  What?  Thanksgiving?  Well, we usually have a pretty big gathering for Thanksgiving, but this year it is different.  Half of the family will be in NYC, standing amongst the other few hundred thousand people who will come to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  My nephew Connor is playing his trombone (Bruce!) while he marches along with his high school band.  Watch for Legacy High School from Broomfield, CO.  They are awesome!  So, because half the family is gone (and we will be in OKC) we aren't getting together for Thanksgiving this year - so we had it early. 

How does this food combination sound?  Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, rolls, baked beans, hot German potato salad, sauerkraut, brats, fruit salad, garden salsa & tortilla chips and Halloween cupcakes?  yep.  That's my family.  We love food and there is always way more than we could ever possibly hope to eat.

My dad and step mom hosted the event, and thought that a good way to entertain the kids would be to set up several different games from the Minute-to-Win-it website and let them have at it.  The kids had a good time... and ate all of the M&M's when no one was looking.



Rylan and her second cousin, Milton, competing to land their M&M's on top of the straws




My aunties and my dear, sweet grandma...




Jordan straw sword fighting with cousin Alex.  Second cousin Greg is in hot pursuit




The infamous bee picture...

If you are not up to date... my grandma passed away quite unexpectedly five days after our get-together.  We are all grateful we got to have this afternoon to be together as a family.  I love my bee picture (yes Dean - this one is mine).  But what I should have really been doing was taking a picture of what was going on behind me... grandma was holding Colin on her lap, where he was sitting quite contentedly... which is unusual.

I hope that we make this a tradition.  I like it better than a hot summer afternoon/early afternoon bbq where you fight the heat, sun and mosquitoes.  This was quite nice.  But maybe we should nix the Thanksgiving fare....

Three funerals and a wedding



Tuesday morning I ran by the cleaners to pick up Dean's suit.  Attached was a small bag that contained items that were found in the pockets when I had dropped it off on the previous Saturday afternoon.  Two funeral bulletins - grandmother Liles and my grandmother Betty.  How ironic.  We bought that suit for Dean to wear as a groomsman in a wedding in Texas last October.  It got a lot more mileage in it's first year than we bargained for.

We also outfitted the kids last year with duds for the wedding.  Nice khaki's and navy polos for the boys and a navy dress for Rylan.  I already had a navy dress, and so we chose a very dark navy with a subtle pinstripe for Dean.  The kids' outfits have gotten a lot of mileage as well.  They work for either happy/somber occasion, which is a great financial relief.

But.

Jordan has outgown his khakis and they are not (ahem) fit to pass on to Owen for future use.  Jordan is hard on his clothes.  We were a even a little bit embarrassed about their condition yesterday - one of the knees is almost threadbare - it was barely holding together.  One more squat and they are finished.

Owen has grown a couple of inches and his pants are now ankle length.

Colin, at 20 months, is wearing Owen's old 2T outfits (of which we had a standard khaki/navy combo ready to go), but that little bugger is already TOO BIG for even some of those clothes.

Rylan's dress had some grease stains on the front, unbeknownst to me.  They are so hard to spot on a navy background unless you are in good light.

My dress is in it's eighth year of service.  It even has some fashionable shoulder pads.

Our clothes have a lot of history.  I look through pictures and I can only tell the difference between the events based on the background and what everyone else is wearing.  That is kinda sad...

Grieving.. on a spectrum

Even though we are still in that uncomfortable space of time between a death and a funeral (the funeral and burial for my grandmother is this afternoon) the range of grief is vast.  Some moments you are completely okay, others you burst into tears and still others your heart aches so much your chest literally hurts. 

And then you factor in children.  You may feel like your world just fell apart, but a little person with a very stinky diaper just wandered by and you have to change it.  You have to make the macaroni and cheese.  You have to brush their teeth.  And read a story.  Even though these tasks may feel all but impossible to do, you have to because live goes on.  The dog needs to pee.  The library books need to be returned.  The empty milk carton needs to be replaced.

I made about four trips to the grocery store over the weekend - just so I could grieve.  I could be alone with my thoughts as I circled the aisles.  I wouldn't have to talk to anybody and could process.  Mull things over.  I had to wait until I went to bed to really think and do my best to recall old memories.  What did she call me when I was little?  (I can hear her voice, but I honestly don't know... I insert a lot of different options, but none of them sound right.)  What did she smell like?  (A mix of black coffee, bleach and talcum powder).  What stories did she tell?  (She complained about her overly chatty sister Mildred a lot).  That is how I have gone to sleep every night since Friday, when I heard the news... I just think and try to remember.

I write.  This helps the most.  My posts were either started early in the morning or late, late at night, when kids were asleep.  But invariably life would intervene... Someone would get up or enter the room and the soundtrack changed from total silence to Dinosaur Train or Jimmy Fallon.  Depending on who it was.  I can't write about sad things (or anything for that matter) when life is going on.  I need to find my headphones.

Life goes on.  This is a school week for us - and school we must.  In the midst of a science discussion with Jordan - as we watched short video on Discovery Education (streaming videos) about temperature and thermometers, and my mom calls in complete tears.  She had just read another blog post of mine.  I'm on one end of the spectrum - discussing the boiling point with Jordan (the point at which water, in it's liquid form, reaches the maximum temperature it can before it changes from a liquid state into a gas - and that it doesn't just boil at the surface - the entire volume of water molecules is reacting to the heat *fascinating*!), and my mom is completely on the other.  I vacillated rather quickly.

The hardest has been looking at pictures.  A video of various pictures of grandma throughout the years will play during the wake after the burial.  I sifted through seven years of pictures - that is as long as I have had a digital camera, looking for pictures.  Not only did I find pictures of grandma Bobbie, but grandma Betty and grandmother Liles.  Three grandmas in ten months...hard to believe.  It's like continually salting an old wound.

One of the things I like about the social mediums we have at our disposal today is that we can all help each other through the process.  Brothers, sisters, aunts, cousins... we all share openly how we are struggling and grieving, and there is an instant support system.  I don't believe for a second that social media is destroying the social fabric or making communication impersonal.  Quite the opposite, in my opinion.

Today will be difficult.  Life goes on.  Jordan has an archery lesson this morning.  The kids need to go to Park Day and run in the sunshine for a little bit.  I need to collect $$ for scout popcorn.  And then we can all go home from our busy morning, change our clothes, and then head down for the funeral.  Somewhere in there I have to fit in lunch and a kiddie catnap... sigh.  Life goes on.  Don't forget the box of  kleenex.  And to breathe.

Now where's my list....

Regrets...

Some of my favorite moments in the past few years were watching my great grandmothers holding my babies.  Grandma Bobbie loved to hold a baby and she would wait with great anticipation for the moment when you handed off your little one for her to hold.  I regret that I didn't make it an absolute priority to see her more often than we did - she only lived 45 minutes away but we just never seemed to find the time.

Make time.

My biggest regret is not completing a Life History with her.  I did one with my other grandma as part of a semester-long Anthropology project, and I had always planned to do one with Grandma Bobbie as well.  I never did.  One thing in life led to another, and ten years slipped away.  After my grandma Betty passed away in April, I resolved to do it this winter.  And now it is too late to capture her words, thoughts and feelings in a recording.  Yet I will not let this hard lesson slip by - her three youngest daughters, my aunts Susie, Kathy and Cheryl will now be my source (although they don't know it yet), and their knowledge of the family history will see this project through.

Don't wait.

I am so very thankful that I got to see my grandma just this past Sunday at a family gathering at my dad's house.  It was a birthday/Oktoberfest/Thanksgiving meal kind of thing.  Most of the family will be in NYC for Thanksgiving for the Macy's Parade, to watch my nephew Connor march with his high school band, so we had Thanksgiving early.  We had a wonderful, relaxed afternoon.  The kids played several Minute-to-Win it games to entertain themselves, and we had a ton of great food.  Grandma held Colin on her lap for a long, long time.  I had my camera with me, but I never took a picture of that.  I was busy trying to get a close-up of a bee on some flowers in the garden.  When I heard the sad news of her passing, I immediately pulled up the picture file that I had downloaded from the camera a few days before, and I noticed that not one picture was of her specifically.  I only had the back of her head.  I felt so sad and angry about that.  Cheated.  What was I thinking!?  I always have this mantra, 'get pictures, get pictures...' because you never know if it will be the last time....  This time it was.  I also didn't get to talk to her very much at the party.  I have her a hug hello, put a baby on her lap and then later on said goodbye.   The rest of the time I was chasing kids, arranging crockpots, changing diapers, eating, talking with my brother and SIL, and eating some more.

Connect.

I got the sad news Friday at lunchtime as I was out for a walk in the neighborhood with the kids.  Grandma had just been rushed to the hospital after having yet another seizure.  I was far from my house, on foot, with kids who would struggle to move much faster.  We hadn't eaten lunch yet.  The little ones sorely needed a nap.  For a couple of hours I felt completely trapped with responsibility -  and resentful of the kids like it was their fault that I couldn't just drop everything and rush to a hospital 45 minutes away.  I would not have made it anyway.  But maybe...  I just need to reconcile the fact that there was nothing I could have done differently.  My sadness and anger is misdirected - I am just stunned that it happened so fast and that she left so quickly.

Forgive yourself.

All of my grandparents are gone now.  As well as their brothers and most of their sisters.  Only two great aunts and a cousin are left from that generation (at least that I am aware of and have semi-frequent contact with.)  Gone are the stories, the memories, the connection to our past.  It is an unsettling feeling.  I count myself lucky that my grandmothers lived as long as they did.  Grandma Betty lived thirteen years beyond the death of her husband, (my grandpa Orin) and Grandma Bobbie lived thirty years beyond the death or her husband (grandpa Lee).  They were both such strong women with gentle spirits...  They helped bind the family together and kept us moving forward, even as the family dynamic changed with each marriage, divorce, move, and birth of a great grandchild.

Gratitude

I will miss my grandmother's cooking and good humor the most.  She made some of the best food in the world.  Every year, without fail, about a month prior to Thanksgiving, all I could think about was her turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and apple pie.  And let's not forget the creamed peas.    I hope someday soon my aunts will give me cooking lessons so I can learn her secrets...  Family meals were a huge event when I was growing up.  Now they are even bigger.  When I was little, we all crammed into grandma's small kitchen and sat from one end to the other.  You couldn't move.  Forget going to the bathroom.  We fought over the coveted spot by the bedroom doorway that would lead out of the kitchen - your one chance to escape if you really needed to go.  Now we all gather at my brother and SIL's house - that way we can all fit.  We have added 5 spouses and 12 grandchildren to the mix over the years.

More gratitude

I don't know how much this will now effect the family and change the dynamic, but I suspect the changes will be significant.  My aunts, who have dedicated themselves for the last thirty years to the care of my grandmother, will experience the most change.  Her medical needs had been so significant at times over the years... they sacrificed so much to take care of her, and they did it with such an admirable amount of love and compassion.  The entire family was so grateful that grandma was being taken well care of.    They took her to baseball games, trips to the mountains, a cruise and a ton of family events all over the place.  They provided constant companionship and care.  I am looking forward to seeing how they pursue the new direction their life will take, now that their responsibilities have changed.  I think that the glue that held us together will still hold, yet I know things will be different.

Be Strong

Have Courage

Never forget where you came from...

Cherish your family each and every day.



Don't let another day go by...

Without telling someone you love...



How much they mean to you

Because one day life will take you by surprise

and they will be gone...

I love you Grandma...and my heart hurts because you've moved on.

I am grateful that I had you in my life and that my children got to know what a wonderful lady you were.

May you be blessed on your new journey.