Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
top ten reasons why mama needs her man back
10. The remote to the t.v. has somehow been set to Polish.
9. The Geo won't start.
8. The gutters are full, the hoses are frozen and the pansies are dead.
7. I am really behind on my Oscars in the Ozarks prep.
6. My windshield is cracked and the car seats are filthy and my Honda now looks like the wheels Jed Clampett drove.
5. I need just 21 minutes to myself to take the three boxes of Feria #61 I bought and dye what has become my Don King hairdo.
4. I have only one tiny nerve left in my whole body and T. is laying on it.
3. Lost's season premiere is tomorrow night.
2. The bed is beyond empty.
1. It is Mama's turn to go into re-hab.
9. The Geo won't start.
8. The gutters are full, the hoses are frozen and the pansies are dead.
7. I am really behind on my Oscars in the Ozarks prep.
6. My windshield is cracked and the car seats are filthy and my Honda now looks like the wheels Jed Clampett drove.
5. I need just 21 minutes to myself to take the three boxes of Feria #61 I bought and dye what has become my Don King hairdo.
4. I have only one tiny nerve left in my whole body and T. is laying on it.
3. Lost's season premiere is tomorrow night.
2. The bed is beyond empty.
1. It is Mama's turn to go into re-hab.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
my window to the world
There are three things that got me through the last 38 days and four hours- love, faith and the duffle-sized Trader Joes care package that a pal of mine sent by hand delivery, no less. All of my faves, individually bubble wrapped with care, morsels of sheer joy...a taste of home. I remember many nights when I thought the darkness would eat me alive. I remember times when I thought I couldn't do it, couldn't think it, couldn't be it. But in some deeply mystical way, I moved along this hair pinned Monte Carlo drag, and found out just how much I can love. A whole lot of other things, too. Like trusting others when I needed to, following my own heart with confidence, and the wisdom to know the difference and the courage to put it into action. There were times it felt like I could not find any of those things and those were the times that you gave them to me...loaning me the flashlight that I needed to find my way. And for that, I am forever grateful. For that, I am changed forever. For that, my prayers will spill over with profound appreciation for the rest of my life.
The day of my husband's surgery was a dark one. At least it started out that way as I was up before dawn. My sister had arrived early that morning to care for my children. It seemed fitting that it was her turn that day to help me. My older sis by fifteen years who had been like a mom to me when I was growing up. A beautiful icon who I admired, emulated..always willing to be my bed partner when I had a bad dream, never once complaining when I wet that bed repeatedly, giving me comfort on her wedding day when I cried harder than I think I ever have...my 11 year old brain thinking I had lost my sissy forever. It was cold and dark and scary when I left the three of them. I didn't know what stories I would be telling them upon my return, but I knew that my babies were in good hands that day. I had someone special..who I knew would bubble wrap them in love and play, and hold down my fort while I went off to battle, coffee in one hand, my husband's wedding ring in the other.
I bathed my man in prayer for three hours that morning and then the dreaded dance began. It was rather surreal, almost like a dream, one in which everything moved around us, in perfect mechanical harmony, a rhythm only familiar to me from watching E.R. episodes, an auditory hell that I couldn't escape..the bells and whistles that I hated but that were helping to keep my husband alive and all the people..so many..who were going to accompany him up a mountain so steep that it frightened me at the thought...but one in the end, he would ultimately have to dig in his spikes and climb himself.
I was told by the man in white that simply getting my sweet from the third floor to the first wasn't very good odds. All those faces around me, their eyes telling me something I simply could not and would not accept. And my guy in the center, barely breathing, so small..my whole life, my heart..right there, laying on a gurney. But make it, he did. My prayer was never so fervent for those 58 minutes, united with so many others. The goodness was palpable. The power of life and it's majesty..all things golden lifted him through that morning and defied those odds. He not only climbed that mountain, but pounded in the red flag atop its pinnacle and let out a yee-haw that would echo for miles.
Upon my return that day, my sis greeted me with a smile, run ragged by my two whirlwinds and telling a story of her own. One of the things I treasure..strangely enough, is my dining room window. It consists of four large double-hungs, very scantily curtained and has been a haven to me over the past three years. It is here where I watch my beloved birds flit about in the dogwood that serves as a backdrop to this lovely view. It is a place while pregnant with my T., that I would sit and dream about who and what this little person who was moving inside me would grow up to be. It is here where I contemplate life, enjoy a cup of tea, sip a glass of wine...a place where I cry, where I balance my checkbook, where I take stock of all the love and beauty that surrounds me and a place that has known a whole lot of laughter and good times. And it is here where my sister's story begins.
She had made a mid-morning snack for the girls’ right around the time their daddy was going under the blade. As she was having a well deserved moment of serenity..the girls munching their buttered toast, there suddenly appeared a wave of blue blanketing the tree in front of her. Not one, not two, but by her account, seven or so bluebirds perching their beautiful selves upon the branches of my dogwood. For those of you who are somewhat familiar with our feathered friends, you will know that it is very rare to see a clutch of these special blue jewels all together like that..having a family reunion of a sort and breaking suet together. Bluebirds though, as we all know, are a symbol of happiness. It was then at that moment, my sister said, that she was certain that her brother-in-law was in very good hands and that he would make it home to his angel ballerinas and to the woman who loves him. That was only one of the many signs from this vast and beautiful universe that would unveil itself to me and my family. Only one of the many treasures that would serve to fuel and comfort us all in G.'s long journey homeward.
The day of my husband's surgery was a dark one. At least it started out that way as I was up before dawn. My sister had arrived early that morning to care for my children. It seemed fitting that it was her turn that day to help me. My older sis by fifteen years who had been like a mom to me when I was growing up. A beautiful icon who I admired, emulated..always willing to be my bed partner when I had a bad dream, never once complaining when I wet that bed repeatedly, giving me comfort on her wedding day when I cried harder than I think I ever have...my 11 year old brain thinking I had lost my sissy forever. It was cold and dark and scary when I left the three of them. I didn't know what stories I would be telling them upon my return, but I knew that my babies were in good hands that day. I had someone special..who I knew would bubble wrap them in love and play, and hold down my fort while I went off to battle, coffee in one hand, my husband's wedding ring in the other.
I bathed my man in prayer for three hours that morning and then the dreaded dance began. It was rather surreal, almost like a dream, one in which everything moved around us, in perfect mechanical harmony, a rhythm only familiar to me from watching E.R. episodes, an auditory hell that I couldn't escape..the bells and whistles that I hated but that were helping to keep my husband alive and all the people..so many..who were going to accompany him up a mountain so steep that it frightened me at the thought...but one in the end, he would ultimately have to dig in his spikes and climb himself.
I was told by the man in white that simply getting my sweet from the third floor to the first wasn't very good odds. All those faces around me, their eyes telling me something I simply could not and would not accept. And my guy in the center, barely breathing, so small..my whole life, my heart..right there, laying on a gurney. But make it, he did. My prayer was never so fervent for those 58 minutes, united with so many others. The goodness was palpable. The power of life and it's majesty..all things golden lifted him through that morning and defied those odds. He not only climbed that mountain, but pounded in the red flag atop its pinnacle and let out a yee-haw that would echo for miles.
Upon my return that day, my sis greeted me with a smile, run ragged by my two whirlwinds and telling a story of her own. One of the things I treasure..strangely enough, is my dining room window. It consists of four large double-hungs, very scantily curtained and has been a haven to me over the past three years. It is here where I watch my beloved birds flit about in the dogwood that serves as a backdrop to this lovely view. It is a place while pregnant with my T., that I would sit and dream about who and what this little person who was moving inside me would grow up to be. It is here where I contemplate life, enjoy a cup of tea, sip a glass of wine...a place where I cry, where I balance my checkbook, where I take stock of all the love and beauty that surrounds me and a place that has known a whole lot of laughter and good times. And it is here where my sister's story begins.
She had made a mid-morning snack for the girls’ right around the time their daddy was going under the blade. As she was having a well deserved moment of serenity..the girls munching their buttered toast, there suddenly appeared a wave of blue blanketing the tree in front of her. Not one, not two, but by her account, seven or so bluebirds perching their beautiful selves upon the branches of my dogwood. For those of you who are somewhat familiar with our feathered friends, you will know that it is very rare to see a clutch of these special blue jewels all together like that..having a family reunion of a sort and breaking suet together. Bluebirds though, as we all know, are a symbol of happiness. It was then at that moment, my sister said, that she was certain that her brother-in-law was in very good hands and that he would make it home to his angel ballerinas and to the woman who loves him. That was only one of the many signs from this vast and beautiful universe that would unveil itself to me and my family. Only one of the many treasures that would serve to fuel and comfort us all in G.'s long journey homeward.
Friday, January 18, 2008
to sir, with love
Mama's back, folks, and it ain't been pretty. Over the holidays, my family went from point A to point B with the velocity of a jet plane. On crack. With super sonic turbo boosters. Yep, four weeks and five days ago, I was doing a snippy tête-à-tête at Home Depot with my husband over how to place the Christmas tree on top of my precious Honda without scratching it and now?...well, my love continues to duke it out with the biggest, meanest, snarliest obstacle he's ever laid his sweet, kind brown eyes on. Having caught a "sniffle" a few weeks back, it morphed into a vicious pneumonia...then that basically grew into Freddy Kreuger. So there it stands. But enough of that. For now anyway. I want to talk about who he is.
When I cranked this puppy up about three months ago, I did it for a lot of reasons...not just to ramble about things nesting in my weird head or as a late-night escape...something to call my own for a stay-at-home mom who needed it in a big way, not just as an homage to my friends and family who have been and continue to be my greatest fortune but also as a sort of cyber vitamin B shot for the soul. Stories of ordinary Joes doing the extraordinary...just a wee sunbeam in a rainy day media saturated world...a sometimes silly one, but a sunbeam nonetheless. I mean, it feels good to readsomething that isn't about Britney Spears, right? I didn't know that less than 90 days later, I'd be putting my husband front and center. Oh, sure, I know how nifty he is..his kids know..his family and friends know this cool fella..but just in case some of you readers may be wondering...
My guy was born in a beautifully stark faraway land without trees, but home to one of the biggest bird populations on the globe. He sang, danced & acted his way through college to finally land in Hollywood, one of the three glam cities in which he has lived, where he first met Mama, on stage, in a small theatre nestled in the foothills. We shared our first date over vodka & sodas at a tiny table in the corner of an Irish pub and talked well over five hours that night. We spent many evenings after that nestled in front of his tiny stone fireplace with a huge orange cat named Fritz that gave me toothy kisses on my chin. During the next few months, our love story blossomed over "coffee and O.J." in the mornings as the Simpson trial was in session and held us both captive. He has impeccable timing. He is a man of deep faith. He is the funniest person I know. He is addicted to TCM. He is loyal and good and a glass is always half-full kind of guy. He was born to be a daddy. And he loves me more than anyone has ever loved me. Warts and all. And now, after ten years, I am humbled and honored beyond belief to be his wife and in jaw dropping awe at his courage, strength and determination. He is my knight in shining armor and he is headed homeward. He may be sitting side saddle holding an oxygen tank, but he is coming home and there's a sunset with our names written all over it.
When I cranked this puppy up about three months ago, I did it for a lot of reasons...not just to ramble about things nesting in my weird head or as a late-night escape...something to call my own for a stay-at-home mom who needed it in a big way, not just as an homage to my friends and family who have been and continue to be my greatest fortune but also as a sort of cyber vitamin B shot for the soul. Stories of ordinary Joes doing the extraordinary...just a wee sunbeam in a rainy day media saturated world...a sometimes silly one, but a sunbeam nonetheless. I mean, it feels good to read
My guy was born in a beautifully stark faraway land without trees, but home to one of the biggest bird populations on the globe. He sang, danced & acted his way through college to finally land in Hollywood, one of the three glam cities in which he has lived, where he first met Mama, on stage, in a small theatre nestled in the foothills. We shared our first date over vodka & sodas at a tiny table in the corner of an Irish pub and talked well over five hours that night. We spent many evenings after that nestled in front of his tiny stone fireplace with a huge orange cat named Fritz that gave me toothy kisses on my chin. During the next few months, our love story blossomed over "coffee and O.J." in the mornings as the Simpson trial was in session and held us both captive. He has impeccable timing. He is a man of deep faith. He is the funniest person I know. He is addicted to TCM. He is loyal and good and a glass is always half-full kind of guy. He was born to be a daddy. And he loves me more than anyone has ever loved me. Warts and all. And now, after ten years, I am humbled and honored beyond belief to be his wife and in jaw dropping awe at his courage, strength and determination. He is my knight in shining armor and he is headed homeward. He may be sitting side saddle holding an oxygen tank, but he is coming home and there's a sunset with our names written all over it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
