Watch out Utah, Here We Come

We're leaving tomorrow to spend a long weekend in Utah.

Yes, Utah.

We'll be staying with some wonderful friends, to whom I would link as both parental units blog, but their blogs are relatively private and I haven't asked permission, so that will be retroactively hyperlinked if OK'd.

These are friends I've known since college. Truth be told, we weren't super-close for most of our time at our alma mater, but we forged a deeper friendship senior year, and I attended their wedding when I was home for a visit between my first and second years of Peace Corps. A quick mental rundown reveals them to be my only college sweetheart friends, and perhaps the friends of my generation who have been married the longest. They have always seemed so gosh-darned happy together and happy with their lives that I am at times jealous, I admit it. But that feeling is never but fleeting; mostly I am just infected by their joy and recognize that they have certainly had their peaks and valleys as we all have, if perhaps more quietly than some.

They passed through town over the summer with their daughters, who are 10 and 8. (Right?) They spent a quick night, arriving just in time for some pizza for dinner, some rides on the three-bike, some bedtime stories, and some visiting before heading out as I left for work the next day. It was time enough for Maddie and Riley to fall in love with the two older girls, who were genuine in the return of affection, and for the grown-ups to have a quick chat about the idea of a us taking a trip to see them.

And now, off we go.

This trip marks a first for me. I've never taken Maddie and Riley on a vacation that did not involve going to visit family or taking family along with me. I'm a lifelong traveler, and the idea of traveling with my children is one that captivates and excites me, but it also exhausts me. There's no relaxing when traveling with two young children on your own. It's an endless stream of logistics, and my unwillingness to undertake vacation adventures with the twins feels like one of the biggest hurdles I've faced as a single parent. If I had a coparent, I fully expect that by this time, we would have been on at least one U.S. vacation of note, and likely we would have even already been overseas. I just haven't been able to commit to anything of magnitude yet.

As Maddie and Riley get older, though, I can see that changing. This trip is a perfect trial run. The flight is short, the logistical hassles greatly reduced by staying with friends. We'll be gone only three nights. It's only one time zone.

But it's nonetheless a break in routine. Not too long ago, it would have been out of my comfort zone. Tonight, though, I'm excited to see friends and a new place, to get away, and to start to share with M&R the joys of traveling. We're all growing up.

7:40 p.m.

The kid are sleeping. We had a really fun evening. I got home from work early, and we spent fifteen minutes or so playing around on the new gymnastics mats in the basement, doing somersaults and airplane lifts and making human sandwiches (that sounds so gross, but you know what I mean).

Then it was dinner, one of those marvelous occasions on which the main course (butternut squash soup) was enthusiastically received by all and carrot (Riley) and celery (Maddie) sticks were consumed with gusto.

Off it was to the bath, where no one threw a tantrum when the bubble machine didn't work and there were no tears about hair washing or combing out. We had extra time for stories, we sang an extra song, and the light was out by 7:25 p.m.

And now, here I am with a glass of wine and my after-bedtime snack. I have a couple of bills to pay. There's a load of laundry about to shift to the rinse cycle. I could write some thank-you notes.

But the dishes are washed, the play areas are clean, there's no need to pack lunches. This post is really an ode to Z and how she has transformed our lives in the past two months. She delights in the kids, and they in her. I've been able to hear their Spanish skills just explode. Taking care of Maddie and Riley is clearly her priority, but she is also a huge help to me around the house, which has freed up my time in ways I did not expect and have yet to really learn how to manage. I find myself now in the evenings with my chores done well before 8 p.m. and the whole evening stretched out before me. Usually I manage to fritter away my time on Facebook or end up asleep by 9:30 p.m. I haven't been so well rested in years, and it feels really great.

I'm not terribly surprised to find that I love having another adult in the house after hours. Sometimes, once the kids are sleeping, Z and I will cook something together or just spend time socializing. It's nice to hear stories about what the kids are doing and to help with questions Z has about life in the U.S. Often, Z will spend the evening on her computer or on the phone, visiting with friends, but just knowing that she's here and that I have backup if something goes awry is a huge load off my mind, and an unanticipated benefit of having a live in au pair.

I have wanted for some time to get an au pair, but the circumstances were never right either logistically or financially. It was worth the wait, though, and my hunch that this was a good solution for our family has been confirmed. It's nice to be headed into 2011 with such a settled, happy feeling: my job is stable and mostly good, the kids are in a good place in school, and the childcare situation is so much more than that.

Now it's 7:54 p.m. I need a few more snackies to get me through the bills. Then I think it's time for an episode of Mad Men and some reading. I started To Kill a Mockingbird a few days ago. Not sure how it could be that I've never read it before, but there you have it. What a luxury to have time to spend on these things, on myself. I am well aware of this gift.

Christmas

I am ambivalent about Christmas. I'm not Jesus-religious, so the whole birth of Christ thing is not especially meaningful to me. I outright loathe the commercialism, and in general I'm not a gifter. John and I were on the same page in all regards here, so the few Christmases we had together were low-key affairs.

There is something, though, to this whole "Christmas through the eyes of a child" business, I have to concede that. And this year, as the fog of parenting babies and toddlers has turned into the (for me) more rewarding and enjoyable parenting of preschoolers, I've been much more in the Christmas spirit than in years past.

I come from a strong Christmasing tradition, in the most American sense. We rarely (never?) went to church on Christmas, and the Jesus part was but a blip on the radar (save my mom's loathing of the shorthand "Xmas"), but we did the secular aspect up right. We always got a huge tree right after Thanksgiving, there were lights on the outside of the house, the special Christmas glasses made an appearance, and there were gifts. Oh, there were gifts. My parents are the definition of gifters, and they really spoiled us even when times were tough. I enjoyed all of it as a kid and young adult: the fireplace, the music, the presents, the time together.

As an adult, I'm a bit shocked by my obliviousness around it all. I said "Merry Christmas!" to people with wild abandon, never stopping to think about the fact that some people weren't celebrating. I just listened to a Barenaked Ladies/Boston Pops rendition of "Do They Know It's Christmas?", that classic from 1984, and its earnestness astounds me. Do they know it's Christmas? Guess what? Many of "them" don't celebrate Christmas! Yet at the time, I remember being so moved by the gesture, so grateful for what I had, so empathetic for those who were missing out. Now the whole thing just seems so naïve, so well meaning if maladroit. Sending starving people food is a wonderful thing to do, but to condescendingly link it to their lack of awareness of Christmas? It feels so . . . well, I think I've made my point.

I overthink it all now. Do I feed into the Sana myth? How many gifts is too many gifts? How can they survive when all they've eaten for days is Christmas cookies and eggnog? How do I make them aware of other traditions and beliefs? Is "season's greetings" just a veiled "merry Christmas"? Should I just pretend it's not happening (as is my inclination)?

In the end, I'm letting Maddie and Riley be my guides. They wanted a tree, so we got one. Our guideline was that it be taller than the kids, but shorter than me. We put up lights and decorations. We've been singing our nightly songs by the light of the tree rather than in bed, and it's been charming and cozy. Maddie and Riley love the lights that are up around the neighborhood; Maddie in particular gives audible gasps of wonder at the most gaudy displays. For the first time ever, I've bought them gifts and I've enjoyed it. They have interests and desires now, clearly expressed, and it's fun to bring them the joy of satisfying those desires.

I still don't enjoy the overblown hoopla. Thanksgiving has always been my deal: family and food and time off, those are the things I enjoy. So it is with Christmas. I focus on the things that bring me joy, try not to let myself get sucked into the crazy, try to keep it simple and sweet and manageable. No malls. No last-minute shopping trips. I prefer more time by the fire and a second glass of wine.

We'll go spend the night with my mom on Christmas Eve, probably again on Christmas Day. We'll go to the Christmas Eve service at our church, for which we helped to decorate tonight. There will be football and too much sugar and too few vegetables. I might take M&R to their first movie in the theater, and perhaps we'll go bowling, as Riley has been hankering to do for months.

I love my life. Of the things that are in my power to change, I wouldn't change a thing. I am in a place of peace with most of the things I can't change. To the extent that Christmas is a time to reflect on such things, I could not ask for more.

Fall, the library

The nanny called in sick today. For about a half a nanosecond, I thought about trying to get my mom to come watch this kids this morning, then I thought better of it and put my pajamas back on.

I had told Maddie and Riley that we could go to the donut shop this morning; my intention was to take some treats to work to ease the blow of a first-thing-in-the-morning meeting, plus I'm always looking for an excuse to go on a pre-work bike ride. Even though the "need" to bring treats to work had been obviated, we still hopped on the bike—in our pajamas (yoga pants and sweatshirt for me, the out-in-public acceptable version of pajamas)—and got our donuts. Then we came home and put on real clothes and went to the library.

Our closest branch library didn't open 'til noon today, so we drove to a larger outpost and arrived five or so minutes before it opened. Lots of parents, mostly moms, were milling around outside, the bulk of them with little ones who were pre-talkers, emerging walkers, diaper-wearing, dyed-in-the-wool toddlers. I was struck by how old Maddie and Riley were in comparison, so tall, so lean. Our time-killing conversation was about the poster near the library door with information about a teen runaway, light-years away from the meanderings and declarations of "Oops!" from the younger crowd.

Leaves are starting to fall from the trees, and the morning was cool. The smell of the crushed foliage brought me right back to New England. Fall in New England is as glorious as any glossy tourist brochure would have you believe. The slant of the light, the crispness of the air: I don't think I'd felt such a longing for Boston in the year since we'd left as I did in those few minutes in front of the library this morning. I have no doubt that I'm where I'm supposed to be, but when one lives a nomadic life in one's twenties, and when one is blessed (a word I tend not to use, but in this case is entirely appropriate) enough to have a large circle of friends spread all around the globe, there is simply no way to be everywhere one wants to be in any one given moment.

And so in those moments this morning, I wanted to be in Boston, to walk the Minuteman trail with my New England friends, to smell the leaves that are the very definition of autumn. I watched the mothers outside the library today soothe their cranky babies, harkening back to that age with Maddie and Riley, to my need to be out of the house and on some kind of schedule, to my tenuous, coffee-fueled grasp on wakefulness. We are a world away from those days, physically and emotionally. I don't miss those days, but I fiercely miss the people who got me through those days. I want to share with them our life now, not through words, but in person. I want them to see what our life has become, to look forward with us to what we might discover. I want to be in two places at the same time.

Thanks, and Giving

We had a great time in Michigan for Thanksgiving. Maddie and Riley were rock-star travelers (thank you, Dora and Dum-Dums), and we were all spoiled by the entire family. It was incredibly rewarding to see the kids respond to their grandparents, aunt, and uncle; they just love spending time with all of them, and it allowed me to get a little bit of a break, too. We even survived a family portrait session on Sunday morning. That's saying something.

I'm having an incredibly hard time transitioning to being back home. We had an early morning flight yesterday, and so I spent the whole day in a fog after getting up at 3 a.m. and then dealing with the stress of travel, even hassle-free travel. I can't quite remember what I'm supposed to be doing at home or at work. I feel like I forgot all of our routines in the span of five days. My fridge is empty, but I don't know what to buy. I have completley misplaced my gym bag. I left a note to myself at work about some things to do immediately upon getting back to the office, and the note means nothing to me.

I just want to curl up with some tea—no, wait, some hot chocolate—and read. Or do puzzles with Riley. Or play "bunny house" with Maddie. Or bake cookies.

Or Christmas shop.

Yes, really. I don't like to shop, and I can't stand the overcommercialization of Christmas (and everything else) and I hate to feed into a culture that creates a desire to own more and bigger all the time. But I feel a real need this year to do something to show people close to me how much I care. So I'm building a list and coming up with ideas and we'll see how things go.

Until John's death, I was always the person that was early to every meeting, organized to the nth degree, had thank-you notes written before the gift was out of the original package, and paid my bills on a strict schedule. Now? Not so much. I pay my bills late all the time. All the time! Sometimes I don't write thank-you notes, and when I do, they are rather tardy. As I pointed out above, I can't seem to remember what my job is today.

I've writeen about this change before—from Type A organized supewoman to Type X unidentifiable slacker—but I still find it surprising that it's such a common manifestation of grief. I suppose it makes sense that when you're grieving, your mind dedicates so much space to the grief process that the other things get left by the wayside. What is surprising is how long it persists. Perhaps it's less a manifestation of the process of grief and more a manifestation of being a widow. I am certainly a different person now, in many ways, and perhaps this change is one of them.

I miss my old, organized self at times. I'm very good at being hard on myself, and by giving in to a life where I make little effort beyond the bare minimum gives me plenty of ways in which to beat up on myself. But there are things I like about the attitude and actions I have now. I'm amazed every month that the world doesn't stop spinning because I haven't balanced my checkbook. And that the electric company keeps letting me turn on my lights even though I only seem to pay them about half as often as I'm supposed to. Life is more forgiving than I ever thought it was, and lots of things I thought were Rules have turned out to be more like guidelines.

Where that ends, though, is with being less sensitive to friendships and support than I'd like to be. This holiday feels like the time to start turning that around. Of course, the first gift I bought was for Maddie, but still. I bought a gift! Today I've returned some really overdue e-mail and reconnected with some people I've neglected.

Tomorrow I might even remember what it is I do at work.

Anniversary the Fifth

It is here. It is today. I feel remarkably ambivalent, although a bit short-tempered, but that might have more to do with not getting enough sleep this week than with the charged nature of the day.

My mom and stepdad are keeping Maddie and Riley tonight, which gives me a nice break. I think I'll go for a run, take a long, hot bath (probably with Diego bubbles since I don't think I have any grown-up ones), and then eat yummy snackies and drink wine and maybe watch a movie or something. I guess it all sounds a bit melancholy, but as my wise dad pointed out to me last weekend, I don't get a whole lot of time to be truly alone and to just spend time with my thoughts. I know I'm not alone in that; I think we could all use the gift of time to just be. And so I shall take this gift on this day that is such a strange combination of sublime and wretched, and it will be what it will be.

*******************
I've had a question on my mind for the last five years, and I'm going to see if any of you readers can answer it. The question is this: Did he know?

The he in question is John's primary care doctor. A few weeks before our wedding, John went to see said doctor because of increasing trouble with fatigue and intestinal distress. John had not been feeling 100% for a long time—not surprising given that by the time his cancer was diagnosed he fell into a classification known as "nearly dead." But by the same token, John hadn't felt awful, either. When he went to see his primary care doctor, his two chief complaints were that he felt more tired than seemed reasonable and that he had transient, nonspecific episodies of gastrointestinal discomfort and distress. Given that John also had a horrifically stressful job, was in the throes of planning a wedding, and was interviewing for a new job to get him out of the horror that was his old job, it's frankly not surprising that the felt tired and nauseuous some of the time.

But off John went to see Dr. C. And, thankfully, Dr. C did not simply say, "Take some Prilosec and shut up." Instead, what he said was, "I want to run some tests. In the interim, take some Prilosec, which will hopefully take the edge off." I'm not sure exactly what tests Dr. C ran, but one of them was a routine blood workup. That may have been the only test.

The results of that workup came back while we were in Portland for the wedding. In fact, I think it was the day of our rehearsal dinner. The result was that John's liver function was high, really high. Somewhat alarmingly high. Dr. C told John that it was not hepatitis and that further tests would need to be done to determine what was going on. His advice was to take it easy on the booze at the wedding and get in touch when we got back to Massachusetts.

John and I were too busy at that point to do any Internet research, for which I am thankful. Because when we did find the time to do research, what we found was that there aren't that many reasons for liver function tests to come back so abnormally high. It takes a lot of damage for one's liver function to be seriously impaired. Hepatitis can do it, but we knew it wasn't that. There a handful of other diseases—for which John had no other symptom—and some drugs that can cause exceptionally poor liver function. And, of course, so can the presence of tumors in the liver, tumors that are likely metastases from an original cancer located elsewhere in the body.

I'm obviously not a doctor. But when I think back on that time, I feel like Dr. C must have known—by which I mean strongly suspected to the point of near-certainty—that John had cancer, and that it was likely a cancer that had metastasized, and thus was almost certainly terminal. That it was pancreatic cancer it seems less likely that he knew. But again, I'm not a doctor. In the end, none of it matters. When we got back from our wedding, John got an abdominal ultrasound, our lives spiraled out of control, and Dr. C transferred John's primary care to an oncologist whose compassion and skill was unparalleled.

I think about Dr. C every day, though. Soon after John started treatment, Dr. C moved away from Boston, and we never tracked him down. I have always wondered, though, how much he knew, how much he suspected. I'm grateful to so many people for the kindness they showed us during John's illness, probably no one more so than Dr. C. I'm grateful that he took John's nonspecific complaints so seriously. And, assuming that he had an inkling of what was to come for us, I'm especially grateful that he kept those worries to himself, that he managed to not lie, or even give us false hope, but state the facts in a way that protected us without compromising his integrity.

John and I shared virtually no married time together that was not tainted by terminal illness. But on the day of our wedding, for all we knew, we had years stretched out in front of us. I'm so thankful for that. Today, more than usual, I will think fondly of Dr. C and what he did for me, for John, for our marriage.

For any doctor-readers, do you think he knew? How much do you think he knew? What would you have done if you and found yourselves in his shoes?

We Came, We Saw, We Thanked

The short version of our Thanskgiving trip is that is was good.

The flights went off without a hitch. The kids were really happy to see their grandparents, aunt, and uncle, and the relatives were equally if not more thrilled to see the kids. Maddie and Riley were showered with gifts, love, and attention. The twins did not sleep very well, but that's to be expected being in an unfamiliar place and in Pack'N'Plays, for which they are really too big. Riley was sick one day we were there, and now I have the parental rite of passage of Kid Barfing in Public out of the way with one of my two. I got out for a run one day and did a long session on my brother-in-law's gym-quality elliptical trainer on another day. The exercise felt GREAT.

The details of what we did on the trip are not very interesting, really, as evidenced by the above paragraph. We spent time together. We ate some great food. We took the kids on a couple of outings. We had what feels to me like a typical Thanksgiving weekend.

In some ways, being at my in-laws' house was easier than I expected. I realized while we were there that my parents-in-law and I don't really have anything to argue about anymore. When John was alive, everything was a battle. We fought over John's time. We fought over John's treatments. We fought over what John should eat, when he should rest, how our house should be decorated. We fought and fought and fought. We were stressed out and frustrated and angry and we took it out on each other at every turn. Now that John is gone, we no longer have anything to argue over. My in-laws are remarkably tolerant and non-judgmental of my parenting, so that possible point of contention is happily not an issue. They want to spend time with Maddie and Riley, help me, and support us in any way they can. I'm able now to see my parents-in-law in a way that was not possible for me to see them before. I've always known that they are loving, caring people, but in the past, the way they've expressed that has often felt abrasive or intrusive to me. On this trip, it didn't, and I was frankly more comfortable in their house than I've ever been before.

There are some things I will do differently when we next visit. One of the things I'd been looking most forward to was being able to get some breaks for myself. I figured with all of those relatives around to help, I'd be able to sneak in a few solo outings or grab a nap here and there. That didn't really happen. My in-laws were all so respectful of how I manage the twins' time and behavior that they didn't step in much unless I asked, and I was not very good about asking. I struggle with asking for help as a general rule, and then there's the fact that when it comes to parenting, I generally don't have anyone around to ask for help from. If I'm at a restaurant and Maddie and Riley start acting up, it's up to me to control the situation. There's no one else around to pitch in. If things go haywire at home, I'm the one who has to find the calm. Because I'm so used to doing things on my own, it just doesn't occur to me to ask for help. I'll be more aware of that next time, and I think we'll all benefit.

Things reached a critical head on Sunday afternoon. Being around so many reminders of John was hard for me; the family home is filled with photographs and mementos. The five-year anniversary of our engagement was the day after Thanksgiving. And just being together—the bond all of us share is John. There was So Much John, All the Time, even though we spent remarkably little time talking about him. All of that was weighing on me more than I realized, and by Sunday, I was a potent emotional cocktail of anger and sadness and frustration and resentment and tension. I was weepy and short. Riley was not in the best of moods all weekend, and he was really pushing my buttons. We had planned to take the kids to the library on Sunday afternoon, and when Riley staged a full-scale whine-fest about putting on his coat, that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I told both the kids, in a rather nasty tone, that I was staying home while they went to the library, have a good time, see you later. My father, father-in-law, and brother-in-law packed the kids off to the library and had a great time; I spent the afternoon crying, stressed out, and upset. We all needed that time apart.

It's embarrassing for me when my family sees how hard our life is and how poorly I sometimes do at managing it. It's shameful to lose my temper with the kids in front of my relatives, and I felt overwhelmingly vulnerable when, after the kids left for the library, I sat at the kitchen table and just cried out of frustration and sadness and grief. I want people to think we're doing OK, not see that I'm barely holding it together. If I've learned anything from the past few weeks, however, it's that I need to be more honest with myself and everyone around me about what my life is really like. Filled with good things, yes, but also filled with grief and anger and stress and too much stuff for one woman to handle gracefully. I'm doing the best that I can, but my best feels like utter crap and it would be better if I would get over my need to be perfect and let people help me.

We had a bit of a rough re-entry upon returning to Boston. I woke up on Tuesday morning to a screaming Maddie wailing, "My neck! My neck hurts, Mama!" Much frustration from everyong and a trip to the doctor later, the diagnosis was wry neck, a crick from sleeping in an awkward position on the plane. It was scary and not fun for anyone, but the good news is that she's totally fine now. After a back-to-reality doctor's visit with Maddie and subsequent late arrival at work and daycare, I was greeted at the office by the news of massive layoffs. Thirty percent of the staff. Not me. But not good news ever, especially at the holidays. Ugh. To add to it all, Mr. Coffee and I have exchanged a frustrating series of phone calls and messages, and I'm not quite sure what's going on there.

So we're back. We're trying to get back on track. My dad flew back from Detroit with us and has extended his stay until Sunday, which will be great. An extra adult in the house is always good for my mental health and the extra set of hands is great, too. When my dad asked me last night if I'd like him to extend his stay–his original plan was to return to Oregon today—my initial thought was, "Oh, that will be expensive, we'll be fine, etc." and then I thought, "FOOL, HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?!?!" and told him I'd be thrilled if he could make it work. Much better answer. My mom and dad colluded on the phone yesterday to come up with a plan to keep the twins in Oregon for an extra week at the holidays while I come home and enjoy some time to myself; again, my first thought was, "Oh, that's too much for them to do, I can't take them up on that, etc." but I came around rather quickly and am now quite liking the idea.

I'm learning, slowly. I'm letting people help, but it's not easy and I'm not ready to let everyone be part of the solution. Yet. I'm getting there.

And so that was our Thanksgiving, at least the Thanksgiving that went on in my head. Now we shall gear up for Christmas. I actually thought about buying Christmas gifts today, an idea that I did not think I'd be able to handle at all, so amidst all the tough stuff that Thanksgiving brought up for me, there must have been some healing, too. And for that, I am grateful.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I like that it is secular and based on food and family. Food and family! Two of my favorite things, if not my two favorite things. I also like that, all things considered, it's pretty non-commercial. And I like that it's a time to focus on the things I have in my life for which I am thankful. There are many such things, and it's good to be reminded of them, especially while eating good food in the presence of family.

John and I always spent Thanksgiving with his family and Christmas with mine, even though I would have preferred to do the reverse. John worked in the schools, so he couldn't really take extra time off at Thanksgiving, and the Boston-Oregon trip, while doable over a four-day weekend, is much better done over the 10-or-so-day Christmas holiday. Detroit is an easy two-hour flight from Boston, and we got in the habit of skipping the crowds and just flying out there on Thanksgiving morning, arriving in plenty of time for dinner. Not only was Detroit for Thanksgiving/Oregon for Christmas logistically easier, but John and I got engaged in Detroit the day after Thanksgiving the first time we spent the holiday there, so it always had special meaning to go back. I still would have preferred to go to Oregon, but being married involves making some compromises, and logically what we did made the most sense by far.

Last year, I was daunted by the idea of going to see John's family for Thanksgiving. My sister-in-law, with whom I have a very good, close relationship, had already decided that being home for the holiday would be too painful for her and had booked a trip to a tropical clime. I just couldn't stomach the idea of the flights with two eighteen-month-olds and a long weekend filled with bittersweet memories and depressed family. I stayed home with the kids and spent the holiday with a friend and her family. It was fine, even fun at times, but hard: first Thanksgiving without John, being away from family, thinking about my engagement four years prior, etc. 

This year, I felt ready to travel. I suppose I could have taken the whole week of Thanksgiving off and gone to Oregon as I'm no longer bound to the school schedule. But. My daycare does close for an entire week at Christmas, so once again it makes more logistical sense to travel the longer distance when it comes time to deck the halls. As I pondered my Thanksgiving options, I decided to go ahead and go to Detroit.

My relationship with my in-laws is complicated. They love me, and I love them, that's never been questioned. But we have personal and cultural differences which often clashed during John's illness. I felt like they were trying to control John's and my life; they felt like I had taken their son away. Makes for a lot of bad blood on both sides. At this point in our relationship, we've reached a stage where we maintain minimal contact and try not to step on each others' toes. I think my mother-in-law and father-in-law both worry about doing something that would anger me to the point of not letting them see the twins again. I can't imagine what they could do that would make me do that, but given some of the blow-outs we've had in the past, I can understand their fears.

We're in an really awkward situation. If Maddie and Riley weren't in the picture, I'm not sure I'd ever talk to or see my mother- and father-in-law. It's so painful for us to interact. I'd like to think that we will someday get to a place where it's healing for us to be together, but 1.5 years out, mostly it still just hurts. But they are Maddie and Riley's grandparents, and that is a relationship I want to honor. This is not about me, it's about the twins. Not only do M&R deserve to have a relationship with John's parents just because they are John's parents, they deserve to have a connection to their Korean heritage. I am prepared to do what I can to teach the twins to be proud of their Korean-ness, but I don't know what it's like to grow up Asian in the United States. I don't speak Korean. I don't know a whole lot about Korean customs. I'm just not Korean. And John's parents are. I want Maddie and Riley to benefit from that, as well as from the unconditional love and joy that grandparents can have for their grandchildren.

And so we will go to Detroit. John's parents to visit us in Boston from time to time, but that's our home turf. They don't feel as free to relax with the twins in our house as they do in their own. And, frankly, I recognize that I can be very controlling when we're at our house. I want things done our way in our home. When we're at halmi and hatchi's, it's easier for me to let my guard down and allow things to be done their way. The twins deserve that.

If I can let go a little, I think we'll have a great time. I know my in-laws have stocked the house with toys and gifts for the kids and that the kitchen cabinets are filled with Maddie and Riley's favorite snacks. There will be no shortage of loving, capable hands to help with childcare, so if I want to get out for a run or a coffee or a trip to the mall, I can do that. I just have to be willing to let go a little, which will be a good lesson for me. I'm friends with some of John's high school and college friends in greater Detroit, and I'm hoping to spend some time with them, both with and without kids. My mother-in-law is a fantastic cook and I'm eager to fill up on Korean cooking. I look forward to some quality time with my siblings-in-law. And my awesome dad will be staying at a hotel down the road, so we'll even get some time with Ba.

The one thing I'm quite worried about is the possibility that John's family will want to visit John's gravesite.  When John died, he was cremated and his ashes were split between me and his parents. That in and of itself was one of the most traumatic decisions about John's death. John's family had his ashes buried at a cemetery in a very traditional ceremony. They visit the plot weekly, and for them that is a very important ritual. I have no interest in going to the cemetery. I don't feel so negatively about it that I would cause a scene in order to not go, but I'm hoping that it's something we can avoid doing. If I have to go, I have to go. If it's that important to John's parents, I'll do it. I'm a big girl. But I'd really rather not go. If we do go, I'm planning to tell the twins that we're going to a park to think about Daddy. I hope we can keep the explanation they get to that minimum. I don't feel that they need to know any more than that for now.

I think it will be a good Thanksgiving. We won't have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm sure there will be ups and downs to the trip and to the interactions I have with my family. But in the spirit of the holiday, I hope to focus on the ups.

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Any readers out there who live in greater Detroit? If so, do you have any ideas about kid-friendly activities we could do over the weekend? We just went to the Harvard Museum of Natural History, which was a big hit; anything like that? Indoor play spaces? Other ideas? John's family lives in Bloomfield Hills. Any input appreciated.

Who's the Culprit?

OK, Internets, I'm starting to suspect that it was one of you who sent me the Land's End gift certificate and the instructions to buy a couple of more pair of pants.

Anyone want to 'fess up? Send me an e-mail. Or remain anonymous. No matter what, just know that you did a wonderful thing. Thank you.

Unrelated, Maddie busted out with another sentence this morning: "I have jacket." I had put her coat on the coffee table, and my back was to her while I helped Riley with his hat. I heard her say, "I have jacket," and turned to see her holding her coat tight to her chest. Little rascal.

Two Laughs the Day after Thanksgiving

I did yoga today for the first time in a long time. Two friends and I did a Rodney Yee tape. Between keeping one collective eye on the twins and guffawing at Mr. Yee's equipment (seriously, does he have a sock in there?), it wasn't exactly a strenuous workout. But I've been bad about exercising lately, and I tend to have tight hamstrings under the best of circumstances, so the downward dogs nearly did me in. One of my friends was having the same issue, leading to this exchange during a particularly long version of the pose:

Me: (stealing a glance at the TV) I can't believe we're still in this position. Mr. Yee, show some mercy!
Friend: I know. What an asshole.

Maybe you had to be there, but man, I hadn't laughed that hard in a while.

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I also got a good laugh out of watching Ri-Man play with my friend's teenage son's iPod. He was blaring the 50 Cent, holding the headphones up to his ears and rocking out. Preview of coming attractions, coming sooner than I ever would have thought.

Two Things to Celebrate

Happy Thanksgiving.

And happy seventeen-month birthday, Maddie and Riley.

Wishing everyone a lovely day.

(Would love to post something thoughtful and insightful about what I'm thankful for and what this day means to me and how things are different this year without John, but time is short.)

Friends, Food, Wine

A friend came over for dinner tonight. She brought the dinner. And the bottle of wine. Lovely. I had not seen her in a long time, months and months. It was wonderful to reconnect with her.

The twins were charmingly perfect all evening. There was no yelling, even when Tupperware was thrown. Even when green beans were thrown. Even when Maddie PUT HER WHOLE FACE IN THE DIAPER CHAMP. Ahem. Yeah, no yelling. It felt good. It felt the way I want things to feel.

Now I must go to bed and read a book and bask in the glow of such a lovely evening.

PS: Ordered 4 FuzziBunz diapers (two size Large and two size Petite Toddler) to try out, but did not order inserts yet. Heard from a woman at a cloth diapering seminar that I attended that you can make-yer-own inserts out of microfiber hand towels—just cut them up and stuff them in. Is this crazy? I have two microfiber hand towels that I don't particularly like, so I was going to give this a go. Yes? No? Other recommended inserts?

A Good Turn from the Universe

Between paying for the memorial (catering, scrapbook supplies, etc.) and the $1,000 I just dropped on my car, I'm feeling a little strapped for cash this month. Imagine my joy today to find in my mailbox the first payment out of John's school system pension, which includes catch-up payments from the date of his death.

Ahhhh . . . I deal very poorly with financial insecurity, and this was a welcome good turn from the universe.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I was commenting at bg's little sis's blog a few days ago, I found myself writing this:

I need to work on not feeling like a victim of my own life and focus on the many good things that are going on amongst the bad.

I actually feel like I do a decent job of focusing on the good stuff. But I have a confession to make: sometimes I'm living an Al-Anon slogan and totally doing the "fake it 'til you make it" routine.

The past few weeks have been one of those times.

I have been feeling like a victim of my own life. I started the year off sick. GH's cancer treatments weren't going well. I was taking my fear about that out on him. I have been behind at work, due to my own unwillingness to focus. The babies have colds. Riley has been getting teeth and not sleeping well. I have been doing the lion's share of housework and baby care while GH has been feeling under the weather. I am behind on personal projects. My mother-in-law is visiting for two weeks, which is a stressor for me. I have been generally crabby. I have just felt tired and lonely and scared and, well, depressed.

I have lots I want to blog about--a job interview, Maddie's physical therapy, my mother-in-law's visit, Peace Corps, Al-Anon, cancer. But rather than do any serious blogging, I've needed to spend some time thinking about how I can feel better mentally.

I don't have any magic bullet answers. I've thought a lot about what Al-Anon can offer me, and what I keep coming back to is that I am the one who needs to change. I need to adjust my attitude. I can't change people and I can't (for the most part) change circumstances. I can only change me.

I feel a lot of resentment about that. I don't want to change! I carry so much weight already. Why am I always the one who has to do all the work? At the same time, I know it's true that I have to be open to the idea that, with so many other things out of my control, I need to focus on what is in my control: myself. I need to remember that I don't have to do this on my own. I can ask for help from friends, family, and professionals. I can keep blogging, because the act of writing helps me see things more clearly and the community keeps me supported.

I felt a kind of epiphany about this as I drove home from work tonight. I had a great conversation with my father, an alcoholic with 15+ years of sobriety under his belt and a lot of program wisdom to share. When I got home, I tried to be more aware of my actions and my reactions. It was hard, but I was able not to snap at my mother-in-law over every little thing she does that drives me nuts. I was able to give my tired, treatment-weary husband a hug rather than harping on him about all the work I had to do today and how hard my life is. I was able to just be in the moment while playing with Maddie and Riley. It wasn't perfect and it's hard work, but it does work.

I'm sick of the fear, I'm sick of feeling blue. I'm ready to work on it. Or at least try.

My Secret Life/I [heart] My Day Care

There are a few key people in my life who do not know that GH is sick. Friends and family know, obviously. My coworkers know. The Internet knows. But somehow, some way, there are scattered people here and there who I interact with fairly frequently who are out of the loop.

My upstairs neighbor is one of them. We live in a two-family house; our condo is the first floor, our neighbor's is the second floor, and we share the basement. Our neighbor is awesome. He's a single lawyer, super friendly. We take in each others' mail and feed each others' cats when we travel, get together socially occasionally, and have never had a bit of trouble making joint decisions about the house. As far as he knows, GH and I are a happy, healthy, thirty-something working couple with twins. All that is true except for the healthy part, but that's a big part. It's one of those things that has just never come up. It's serious enough that I don't want to mention it in casual conversation ("The other day when we were at chemo . . . "), but neither GH nor I wants cancer to be the defining part of our life so I don't want to have a big pow-wow about it either.

Mr. Upstairs is such a nice guy; I'm sure if he knew he'd go out of his way to help us in any way possible. But the thing is, I like the fact that he doesn't know. I like the fact that when I interact with him, I can pretend that GH is well. It's very freeing somehow.

Our day care providers fell into this category, too, until yesterday. Again, it's one of those things that just hadn't come up. But yesterday GH was on pickup duty and he was going to be late because he had to stop at the pharmacy and pick up some meds on his way home from chemo. So he called to tell the day care people that he would be late, would that be OK? He just said that he'd been at the doctor, but when he did arrive to pick up the kids he said he'd been at chemo.

This morning, when I dropped Maddie and Riley off, one of the women at the day care asked how GH was doing. Her English is not great--her first language is Spanish--and she wanted to be sure she'd heard right, that he has cancer. I told her yes. I didn't get into the details of how serious it is and how sick he is, but I did say he'd been sick for a long time and was not doing very well right now.

I've always loved our day care, and they didn't let me down this time. Her first response was, "If you ever need any help with the kids, any time, any day, at night, on the weekend, you just call." It was so sweet. She loves, loves, loves the twins, and I know her offer was sincere. I jokingly say to people that my only concern about my day care is that someday they just aren't going to let me take Maddie and Riley home--they're going to decide to keep them! I'm happy to "worry" about that.

Speaking of Maddie and Riley, here is a picture of them at the park, swinging for the first time. A bucket swing full of twins!

Happy Thanksgiving

We're traveling today, flying to Detroit to see GH's family. I'm afraid that my posting time will be limited later, so I'm taking the opportunity to squeeze in a quick post before we head to the airport.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and I feel like I have more than usual to be thankful for this year including all of the connections I've made via this blog. I've gotten a lot of really nice comments lately--they are much apprecited and keep me going.

I hope you all enjoy the holiday, with our without family, with our without turkey, wherever you may be, whatever you may do.

I will post as I can from Detroit. It's a bit cruel that NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo fall during a holiday month, isn't it?

XO

Giving Thanks

Before I get to my real post, a quick Happy Birthday to Maddie and Riley who turn five months old today. Hooray, little ones!

I was tagged by Rachel over at Kitchen Fire with a Thanksgiving-appropriate meme.

It was fun to think both of these lists through. I could have added more things to both lists, but here's what came out first:

10 Shallow Things I'm Grateful For
1. Getting out of work early today so that I can rendez-vous with GH and go to the movies before we have to pick the twins up from day care
2. Trader Joe's Candy Cane Joe Joe cookies
3. The phone in the supply closet where I pump three times a day
4. Fleece pants, fleece tops, fleece blankets, fleece in general
5. The heated seats in my Forester
6. Decaf coffee
7. Blockbuster.com--I love renting TV shows on DVD
8. Football and baseball seasons (Go Blue! Go Pats! Go Colts! [I love Peyton Manning] Go Sox!)
9. Being able to eat whatever I want and not gain weight while I'm breastfeeding the twins
10. Dim sum at China Pearl on Sunday mornings

10 Things I'm Genuinely Grateful For
1. Every day my husband is alive
2. My marriage--I never expected that being married would be so amazing
3. My children
4. The good relationship I have with my parents and extended family and the love and respect we show each other even during very trying times
5. My health
6. The amazing health insurance that GH, the twins, and I have
7. Having enough money to pay our bills every month without stressing out about it
8. The connections I've made through blogging
9. The love and support I give to and receive from my friends
10. All of the incredible things I've been able to do with my life up until now--go to college, live overseas, join the Peace Corps, go to graduate school, live all over the US, get married, buy a house, have children. Many people never get to do one of those things, let alone all of them. And who knows what the future will bring?

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Wishing you peace and love.

Weekends, I Love You

I love weekends.

I love not going to work.

I love spending time with Maddie and Riley.

I love that both GH and I are at home with the babies.

I love not having to pump.

I love watching football. (Go Blue!)

I love taking walks.

I love seeing friends.

I love squeezing in some time to cook.

I love taking long showers.

I love getting stuff done around the house.

Oh, weekends, I love you.

Ode to the Mint/Chocolate Combo

Work has been busy today. I've actually been working, and pumping, and goofing off, all three! Hooray for me. And after work I have to drop my car off for an oil change, do the usual after work stuff (bottle washing, dinner cooking, baby playing, you know), and then go to a moms of twins meeting after Maddie and Riley go to bed, leaving me precious little time to blog save these five stolen minutes before my last pumping session of the day.

I give to you today, this fourteenth day of NaBloPoMo, an ode to the glory that is the mint/chocolate combo. I love mint and chocolate together all year round. I am particularly fond of York Peppermint Patties, the mini ones, and once did an "experiment" to see how many I had to eat before I got a stomach ache (13). One of the best things about the arrival of the holiday season is that mint and chocolate get a lot of love. I just today had my first Starbucks Peppermint Mocha. Soon, the elusive Mint M&Ms will arrive in stores. Trader Joe's has a new cookie in stock, the Candy Cane Joe Joe, which may well be perfection in a cookie. And I was randomly at Cold Stone Creamery over the weekend and noted that they have a Dark Chocolate Peppermint ice cream available for the holiday season.

Oh, chocolate and mint how I love you! I hate winter, but I love chocolate and peppermint, yes, yes I do.