Dear Ben

My brother has been courageously and gracefully battling cancer for the past almost two years. Cancer is taking his body and he is now living the last days of his life.

I've written several letters to him over the past weeks.  None of which he's seen.  Mostly they're for me, as a way of getting my grief out so that I can press forward.

Tonight I share one with you.

I love you B.

Always.

******************************************

Ben and I

Dear Ben,

I was only 2 1/2 when you were born, so I don't really remember Mom and Dad bringing you home from the hospital.  I don't even remember Mom being pregnant with you.  The most important thing I can say is that I don't ever remember being without you.

You have been as constant in my life as Mom and Dad.  Someone I've taken for granted.  For the first years of my life I shared a room with you.  Even when our two sisters came along we still shared a room.  All four of us in that tiny little two bedroom twin home.

I still remember laying on the top bunk looking down at you on the floor.  Camille was below me on the bottom bunk, Emily across the room in her crib.  You on the floor in a navy blue sleeping bag.  You were the only boy and it seemed appropriate for you to get the floor if anyone did.

In Mom and Dad's defense I don't know how long you slept on the floor.  Maybe it was just a couple of nights, maybe it was months before the next set of bunk beds was installed in the room and you got a place of your own.  I don't remember.

I just remember hanging over the top rail of the bed and visiting with you so far down on the floor.  Your smile would flash in the darkness and miraculously our whispers didn't keep the little girls awake.  And we didn't care that we were all packed in like sardines, 'cause we were happy and we were loved, and life was an adventure.

The summer when I turned 10 and you were 7, Mom and Dad sold the twin home and we moved in with some cousins for a while.  We were so thrilled to get our own bedroom, just the two of us.  But something changed and we started fighting a lot.  I even remember drawing a line down the middle of the room, which was actually okay 'cause the floor was cement.  But one day I got so mad that I threw something of yours on the floor and shattered it.  To this day, over 20 years later, I still feel horrible about that.  After that we found ourselves once again sharing a room with the girls on two sets of bunk beds.

And oddly it was more comfortable being back together.  Our fighting settled down and we were back in our little cocoon.

When Mom and Dad bought a house a year later we finally each got our own room.  How strange and glorious that felt to me after only ever having roommates.  I loved it.

You were in the room next to me and we had the whole big basement to ourselves.

But some nights it wasn't so great being alone.  If I was sick or scared no one was there to help or comfort me.  Sometimes I'd yell your name to go get Mom for me, but after so many years of sharing rooms you'd become the world's deepest sleeper and you wouldn't wake up forever.  I'd be so mad at you by the time I got your attention, banging on the wall between our rooms and yelling your name.  Then you'd come in  bleary-eyed and gruff and say, "WHAT?" in a supremely irritated way.  And I'd yell at you to go get Mom, I was sick.

Because of you I've never been alone.  I always had someone with me throughout life's adventures.  Even when I went away to college I'd still call and we'd talk, or you'd come stay a weekend with me.  Even after I was married you'd come hang out, show us your latest car, tell us about your big dreams.

I can't ever remember a time without you.

And I don't want to.

~ Aspen

Ironic Argument

Today I had the most gloriously ironic argument with Ms. Els.

This morning before school she mentioned that her throat was hurting.  No shock there.  We spent this past long weekend with my parents, siblings, spouses and all 10 grandkids.  My sister - CAMILLE - took great care to infect the rest of us with the nasty crud that her family was carrying. 

I told Ms. Els to feel free to call me if she got to feeling worse during the course of the school day.  This meant that I was expecting a call at 8:52 a.m.  (School starts at 8:50).

Said call came in at high noon.

I give her snaps for hanging in there.

She explained that her throat was now so sore that she could hardly function.  I told her I'd drive up and inspect her and we'd decide if she needed to be checked out or not.  I filled my purse with drugs and reminded myself to show compassion.

I should have called that dastardly sister of mine - CAMILLE - to handle this for me!  But, I did not.

Upon inspection I decided she felt a little feverish.  Her eyes were bloodshot, her breath reeeeeeked!  I believe something was dying in her throat!

I began walking over to the computer to check her out and she flipped.  She totally morphed from suffering, pitiful, weak 3rd grader to rage filled gorilla who's last banana was just stolen.


crazed and bloodshot eyes....shudder!

So, I did what anyone in my shoes would do.  I found my mommy.  How convenient for me that my mom teaches at the same school my kids attend.  I told Ms. Els that Grandma could be the tie breaker.  If Grandma felt Els was okay to stay then I'd dose her and leave.  If Grandma agreed with me, then Ms. Els would be checked out and come home.

Yep.  I'm in my mid-ish 30s, a mother of 4, and still making my mom be the bad guy for me! {ha ha!}

Grandma agreed with me.  Ms. Els was not at peak performance.

And the ape went berserk!

Seriously!  She may not have even been human
for a few minutes there.  Scary stuff!

She threw such a royal fit about having to go home that I had three mom volunteers and two teachers stop in the hallway to ask if everything was okay! 

Imagine the grin on my face when I told them we were fighting because Ms. Els DIDN'T want to go home, and I WANTED to take her out of school.

It was glorious.

I almost wavered for a few minutes.  I mean, seriously, why not let her just stay?  At home she'd probably whine and cry and want to follow me around all day.  But at school she'd infect the other kids and then those other moms would be mad at me.

In the end it came down to this.  "Grandma said you're sick, and since she's my mom I have to do what she says"......

The irony wasn't lost on me.  Not at all.

Thanks Grandma!

The Redemption of Cadie Lu

For those following the Cadie Lu and Gloopy saga, it would appear that the stars shown on Cadie Lu that fateful day.  After checking her out of school for a hair cut - frivolous, but an emergency nonetheless - I present to you the end result.

It turned out pretty darn cute.

I suppose I'll let her live.

 

 

(Oh, and to answer the question presented to me about Gloopy's location.  He was stuck on the right front side of her head, just below her ear.  I suppose it could have been worse, though. 

At least it wasn't on top of her head!)

The Misadventures of Gloopy

Ah, the tale of a girl and her Gloopy.

Last week Cadie Lu was given a gift that was unparalleled in it's glory.  The Hubs brought it home from a trade show/conference he attended in Chicago.  It was free from a vendor.  It was....

drum roll....

Silly putty.

Oh, the joy that sparked in Cadie Lu's heart when she saw that blue egg sitting there, holding a treasure at it's core.

Almost immediately upon opening the egg and releasing it's awesome power, Cadie christened her new found doughy counterpart, Gloopy.

Gloopy had quite a ride this past week.  Each morning he was lovingly awakened from his nesting place to help distract Cadie Lu from her responsibilities.  Each time she left for school he was considerately put in a safe place to wait for his mistress to return. 

He spent his afternoons being contorted into shapes such as snakes, snails, and blue dog poo.  When that was finished he had the delightful adventure of taking prints of leaves, pencils, toys, papers and, on what was probably his best day ever, he received the honor of being pressed against Cadie Lu's butt cheek to see what kind of print that would make.

True bliss, I'm sure. 

Gloopy went with our family to the library on Monday night where he was tucked snuggly into Cadie Lu's pocket and went unnoticed until she tried to free him from his comfy little place.  Turns out Gloopy sticks to material.  Poor Gloopy.  His mass was cut in half that day as Cadie Lu, and her mother, were unable to completely free him from his cottony grave.

But, have no fear, Gloopy still lived a free and happy lifestyle.  Even more so, having lost half of his body weight.  He was now light and uninhibited.

In the evenings Cadie Lu would softly stroke Gloopy as she read stories or watched a show.  Never one to be left behind, Gloopy sat cheerfully on sink counter tops during bath time and teeth brushing before being nestled back into his egg for bedtime each night.

But, sadly, last night things took a tragic turn for Gloopy.

Being entirely enamored, Cadie Lu was unable to bear parting with her beloved friend at bedtime.  So, she laid him to rest next to her head on the pillow in order for them to gaze lovingly at each other while falling into serene slumber.

Gloopy  must have gotten chilled during the night and so he crept quickly into Cadie Lu's nest of hair and snuggled in tight. 

Never to be removed.

When Cadie Lu saw the horror that had beset her dear friend she was filled with tears and ran to her mother for assistance in removing the disaster.


Cadie Lu bids farewell to her loyal friend.
Side note:  Do you see that hair?  Do you see what
I have to work with here!!!

Alas, there was nothing to be done.  Gloopy sacrificed himself on the ragamuffin altar.  His efforts to become as one went just one step too far.

He was thrown out with chunks of hair, tears, and the garbage this morning.

Poor Gloopy.

How was he to know that we have family pictures this weekend?!!

Allergies

Well, sadly, I discovered something today that changes my entire perspective on life.  Well, at least on my life.  It won't really affect anyone else.  Okay, it may affect The Hubs and our kids.  But that's a pretty small demographic. 

It turns out I'm allergic to being awake.

Every morning when the alarm goes off some strange things begin happening to my body.

My breathing becomes raspy.
My noise feels runny and stuffed up.
My eyes itch and water profusely - almost like I'm crying.
My body begins to twitch and quiver.

And it's uncontrollable.  And it's involuntary. 

When I attempt to remove my cozy bedding from my body to arise, it suddenly becomes sewn to my skin.  I tug and tug, but where the cold air touches I begin sprouting hives and am forced to cover back up quickly.

Sigh.

On the flip side, the second my weary allergy-ridden body enters my bed chamber (ah, romantical) each evening the opposite occurs.

My breathing slows.  The itching stops, the twitches calm themselves.

As my head hits the pillow and the covers come up I can feel myself sinking into the first moments of peace I've experienced all day.

Yep.  I'm allergic to being awake. 

I believe the only cure is to sleep it off...

Darn.

Politics Schmolitics

Politics Schmolitics!

A friend of mine put this as her Facebook status this past week.  I liked it.  I stole it.  Whatever.

Yes, yes, I know.  Admitting that I don't ravenously follow all the politicking going on during this presidential election year is un-American.  I may as well say I don't like apple pie and baseball.

Actually, while we're coming clean, I don't really like one of those things all that much.  If you could see the numbers on my scale you'd know which one.

Anyhow, the truth is that I'm too busy trying to run a democratic dictatorship at my own home to care much about what's happening in the nation.

"Hey, Hubs, are we still a free country?" I'll ask.
"Yep!" He replies.
"Great, thanks.  Talk to you again next year..."

See, as long as things outside my home are running smoothly enough to keep me free to choose how many pounds I gain per year while eating m&m's, then, we're good.  It's what's going on inside these four dirty-finger-printed walls of mine that truly concerns me.

Running a democratic dictatorship isn't for the faint of heart.  Trust me.  I've been doing it since I was about 12 and realized that my family was putty in my capable hands.  I've since transferred my powers to my little family, and things are going swimmingly.  As long as I stay focused.

It goes something like this.  I offer them a choice, knowing all along that I've already decided what we'll be doing, but offering them the illusion of control.

For example:

Me: "Hey, Hubs, what sounds good for our date this weekend?"
Hubs: "Um, how about we go to Cafe Mimi and then see that new romance movie, A Walk in the Clouds?" 
Me: "Sounds good."
But when we go I whip out prepaid tickets to Rambo and a coupon for Lone Star Steakhouse.  Both of which I'd secured before the conversation.  (See what I did there, making myself look like the tough guy?  It felt so right!)

Or...

Me: "Hey, kidlets, what do you want for dinner?"
Kids: "Pizza!  Chicken nuggets! Corn dogs!"
Me:  "Mmm... that does sound good"..... as I slide a lasagna into the oven.

Every now and then the power goes to my head and I slip up a bit.  When this happens I'll hear the words, "I didn't ask if you wanted to, I told you to _____" come slithering out of my mouth before I can call them back. 

I walk on treacherous ground daily, holding steady on the line of them catching on versus them living in continuous oblivion to the fact that they actually have zero say in anything that goes on around these parts.

Some days The Hubs looks at me like he knows. 

But a little time in the slammer gets that idea right out of his rebellious head!

My Lonely Pillow

Who needs sleep?
Well you're never gonna get it
Who needs sleep?
Tell me what's that for
Who needs sleep?
Be happy with what you're getting
There's a guy who's been awake
since the Second World War

 ~ Barenaked Ladies

I heard this song on the radio the other day and it was like the lyrical genius behind this had ripped a page from my diary and put it to music!

My baby won't sleep.  He's tired, he's cranky, he's high on life.  I can't really blame him for not wanting to miss one minute of the action around here.  I mean, really, I've been checking email and Joely's been playing DS for the last 30 minutes.  Edge of your seat type stuff! 

I'm trying to figure out just what JB has to gain from not sleeping.  Naps are clearly wasted on the young.  I can fall asleep in the snap of a finger if given half a chance.  Some days when the girls are at school, JB is asleep and Joely is coloring or something, I'll look around, see my chance, and be asleep before my cheeks hit the lazy boy.   I may only get 10 minutes, but they are glorious.

I'm also trying to figure out what keeps JB from sleeping soundly through the night.

*He probably hears The Hubs snoring, coughing and tooting in the next room.

*He hasn't learned to count yet, so maybe those sheep running around his room are just confusing.

*Perhaps, like his sister Cadie Lu, he has developed an irrational fear of praying mantis's attacking as soon as you let your head hit the pillow.

* Maybe sleeping with a light saber is distracting and uncomfortable.

*It is possible that some light has manged to sneak around his dark curtains and alert him to the fact that it's only 4:30 p.m.

*Perhaps he's violently angry about the portrait Ms. Els drew of him and hung on his bedroom door.  I felt like she got his nose all wrong, it would appear he agrees.

*Maybe his stuffed animals are staring at him, or sharing his air and breathing space.  Those types of things really bother the older siblings.

Who knows.  All I know is that I'm tired.  And it's making me grumpy.  And even though my current goal in life is to win Monopoly at McDonald's, I really shouldn't be consuming these levels of Diet Coke just to keep my anger in check.

Then again... if I win the million, I'll hire a nanny who has been trained to use tranquilizer darts and all my problems will be over.

Gotta go, McDonald's is waiting............