Invested



I'm sure I've complained about this before, but my kids don't like to eat. Like every other small person, they will gladly snack on granola bars all day, pick at a healthy dinner then beg for more snacks right before bedtime.

To remedy this, I'm making a greater effort to let the kids be part of the family food decision. I've let Logan pick out vegetables and fruit at the grocery store. He helps put away groceries (when he is in the mood). I've always cooked with the kids, but I'm trying to get them to take an even bigger role. I supervise them as they make their own pizzas and quesedillas. Vivian just figured out that she likes grilled cheese sandwiches. I let her make that too. Last week she said she wanted three types of cheese on her sandwich. Who was I to say know to such a foodie? I dug out three types of cheese from the fridge, and she was super happy to make and eat her sandwich.



 Tonight was a big culinary step forward  (in my eyes), Vivian breaded taliapa for fish and chips. She dipped the fish in egg wash then into bread crumbs and finally onto the baking pan. Her fish was perfectly coated. Yes, I had to shriek, "Don't lick your fingers!" She only tried it once, and she even washed her hands with soap afterwards without being told to do so.

Best of all, as I give the kids more control over what we cook and eat, they eat more. Vivian especially eats more when she is the head chef. Tonight she ate more fish than me!

Vivian says, "I like to taste the stuff when they're getting cooked, like a cake or some bread. I love when you (Mommy) make something for me."

Well said sweet girl.

If you were here to cook with me

For 6 months I've gathered a couple friends each week to teach them to cook some of my favorite recipes and recipes I've wanted to try. Some of the recipes are family favorites that I grew up eating and cooking, others are from the Internet and TV that I've wanted to try, but most are meals that I've been cooking for my family. I enjoy teaching the ladies how to cook home cooking with a bit less work and a lot of confidence building. I've seen the girls progress from not knowing how to cut an onion to doing happy dances because they look forward to using my super sharp knives. It took a while for me to notice the changes in my friends, but now that I've opened my eyes I see the confidence and joy I've helped them find. Last week I received a text message from one of the girls that said, "My husband said that the Shepard's pie is 'bang worthy.' Thanks!"
I'm tyring to figure out how to turn this into a small business. I'm excited but very scared. I should deal with my fears by crunching some numbers and figuring out a business plan. But the risk....
Anyway.
With Thanksgiving around the corner, I thought I would share some new found favorite side dishes.

“Dirty” Broccoli *easy and yummy enough for Thanksgiving

1 lb fresh broccoli

1 T water
2 T olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ c. plain breadcrumbs (store bought or pulse a slice of bread in the food processor a few times)
½ t dried oregano
¼ t salt
Pinch of pepper

-Cut broccoli into spears and put in a microwave safe dish with the water. Cover tightly with plastic wrap. Microwave for 4 minutes. Drain water from bowl.
-While broccoli is cooking, heat oil in skillet over medium high heat. Add garlic and cook until you can smell it (1 minute). Add remaining ingredients and cook, stirring frequently, until breadcrumbs are toasted, about 2 minutes. Toss breadcrumbs with broccoli and serve.

 

Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes

I now crave these potatoes.

2 pounds Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and diced in 1 inch cubes
6 T butter
2/3 c buttermilk (room temperature)
Pepper

 -Place potatoes in a large pot. Fill with water so that potatoes are covered by one inch of water. Add 1 T salt. Bring to a boil over high heat. When water starts to simmer, reduce heat to medium and simmer until potatoes are fork tender (18 minutes). Drain.

-Add butter to hot pan. Melt. Add hot potatoes to pan with buttermilk and smash. Add pepper to taste.

What you can do

Now you know and love someone with depression. I’m not the first or last person you will love who has a bout with severe depression. This may not be my last go around with depression either. I’m doing pretty darn good now, but I have days when I see how easy it would be to slip back into deep dark days. I’d like to give you a few parting thoughts on this disease.

-Nothing you did made me depressed! It’s not your fault that I’m sick, and it’s not your responsibility to make me better.

-I need you. I’ll have moments where I don’t feel that I deserve your love, respect or even time. I’ll feel like I’m just going to pull you down into the mire with me. Don’t let go of me. Hold me tight. Keep me in your life and in your heart. I’ll push you away, or avoid you, but more than anything I need you to hold on tight while I go through this storm. I may not want you to intrude, but I need you to pester me and keep me connected with you and the world.

-Do not call anti-depressants ‘happy pills.’ Prozac does not make me happy. If I were the tin man, from the Wizard of Oz, then Prozac is my oil can. It makes my brain work smoother, and I need it regularly so I don’t get all ‘creaky’ and stuck. Life brings happiness not pills.

-Do not make every conversation a deep talk. I need distractions from my depressed thoughts. Tell me about bad reality TV, or great teenage books, or someone interesting you met today. Keep it light so that I can distract myself from the dark.

-I’m more than sad. Everyone has periods when they get blue, when they are sad. Sad is normal. Blue is normal. Being down is fine. When I’m in dark depression I feel numb, sad, broken, hopeless, worthless, isolated, worried beyond reason, and so very tired. When I’m normal sad, I can cry and crying is a release. I feel better afterwards. When I’m in deep depression, crying makes me feel worse and I can’t stop crying. Not being able to control my crying jags, makes me feel worse. It’s a horrible cycle.

 -I am not weak. I’m fighting every moment of my day to be as content and happy as a healthy person. Some days the routine tasks feel like a marathon. You may be strolling through days, but I’m battling to stay afloat.

The big question

I’ve learned that there is an unspoken question others feel the need to ask those with depression.

“Do you want to kill yourself?”

My answer is NO! No! I didn’t want to commit suicide at any point of this disease.

The tricky part about depression is that your thought process is so screwed up that though you have no desire to end your life, death is still on your mind. Thoughts and worries about death felt utterly unavoidable. They were both simple and complex. Death thoughts came in many variations.

“If I don’t pay closer attention when I drive, I could crash the car and kill both me and the kids. I must pay closer attention.”

“Follow the directions on my sleeping medicine with extreme vigilance so I don’t end up in a coma.”

“Can lack of sleep kill you?”

The worst moments were when I was faced with a situation that I just didn’t trust myself in. One day I was crying, and thought that maybe a hot bath would calm me down. A second later I sobbed and realized that I just don’t trust myself in a bathtub at that moment. I didn’t think that I would try and harm myself in the bathtub, but at that moment I felt so out of control of my mind that I didn’t know if I would make the worst choice of my life.

It was in that moment I understood how happy/healthy people commit suicide. When the mind is sick as as mine was at that point, I wasn’t able to make right or wrong choices. Depression made me feel completely detached from everything around me, even detached from myself. If I had tried to hurt myself, it wouldn’t have been a choice. It wouldn’t have been logical. It would have been beyond mine or your understanding because it was unfathomable. The sick part of me would have thought that putting my head under water and letting everything go was good.

It wouldn’t have been me, the Michelle you know. It would have been the sickness.

So…yeah…this is a deep discussion. I hate having to ask you to think about this. I hate showing such a dark part of me. But I need you to see that in the deep moments of depression, a person is walking a fine line. The mind is battling to remain sane. The world looks bleak and you feel  SO isolated. I felt numb, confused, exhausted, broken, worthless, afraid... all at once.

Here’s the kicker: Don’t make your first question to a depressed person about suicide. It’s insulting.  We don’t want to start off by showing you the deepest darkest part of our crazy. But…if you know someone who is depressed and the depression is getting worse…if you’re worried…if you love him…ask if he thinking about hurting themselves. Remind her that life is here waiting for her to get healthy again. Remind him that the world is wonderful and joyful and he is part of what makes it that way. Tell her that the negative thoughts in her head are not true. If she ever needs someone to be the voice of hope, love and strength when hers is lost…be that voice for her.

I have a story to tell you

I’ve been absent from my blogs for a while. Partially it was due to some of Dustin’s work stuff (long story), but mostly I’ve been silent because I’ve been struggling with clinical depression.

From the beginning of this process, I wrestled with how to explain this to people. I could keep silent and keep my story to myself and my family. I didn’t want to be the person who used depression as an excuse. I didn’t want to tell my story the wrong way and have others pity me.  

In the next few days I would like to describe how depression affects me. Through my story, I hope that you will see that depression is not just having a lot of sad days. It is scary and humbling, but it is making me a stronger person. I’m glad for the personal change.

Please enjoy

Breakdown

I think I’ve been teetering on the edge of serious depression. Keeping my patience with the kids was getting harder by the day. Little challenges like getting the car registered required as much planning as an Artic expedition. I cooked dinners that were too salty, too bland, raw, burnt, or illogical (Greek salad with fried rice). The worst part was decision making. I felt like my mind was wading through mud as I made decision. Looking back, I think I’d felt like this for months. I could manage life, but it was a lot of work to get through a normal day. I was fighting everyday to find happiness.

In August things got worse. I can’t say what made me worse, but I went from treading water to drowning in life in about two weeks. I yelled at the kids all the time. Poor Vivian couldn’t do anything without me scolding her. One day she told me, “I had a good dream. You didn’t yell at me and we had fun.” I think my heart broke. Then I started crying. When I’m feeling normal, I cry to work out a problem and when I’m done crying I feel better. This sort of crying wouldn’t stop. I would slump against the wall in my closet and cry for nearly an hour (a couple times a day), and I wouldn’t feel better. I would feel ten times worse than I did before.

My kids are the best. One more than once occasion I would hear them whisper outside the door, “Mommy is crying. We need to make her happy,” then they would pop into the doorway and make silly faces at me to cheer me up. This would make me cry even more because I felt like I didn’t deserve children who could be so wonderful. I yelled at them all the time. How could they want to make happy when I was always making them cry?

I was more than sad. I was broken.

Picasso's Woman in the mirror. Exactly how I felt.

I couldn’t sleep. I’d wake up at 3 am and not be able to go back to sleep. I would pour a bowl of cereal, and stare at it. I couldn’t make myself eat it. My appetite was gone, gone, gone.  I made lists for everything. I even had to put the most mundane tasks (brush teeth, do dishes, get gas)  on my list because I couldn’t remember a thing.  Nothing was engaging. I couldn’t focus on TV or books or sewing or any of the hobbies I enjoy. I knew I should have enjoyed fun times with my family, but it was like watching the world from an aquarium. Everything was muted, and I had a buffer between me and the rest of the world. I felt miserable, trapped, isolated and safe all at once.

And I stressed. Oh my, did I stress. I know now that it’s called cyclical thinking (worry). You know when you get a song stuck in your head? Well I had unfounded worries stuck in my head. If it only bothered me for a couple hours a day, I would have been fine. That was not the case. I worried all the time. I couldn’t fall asleep because I was worrying. Then I would wake up at 2am because I was worrying and then not be able to fall back asleep because I was worrying.

It got worse and worse…One Thursday I couldn’t stop crying. The image of a Picasso painting of a fractured woman popped into my head. I finally knew what in the hell Picasso was trying to show the world. Depression is when you are so broken that you can’t even recognize your own mind. I felt fractured. I didn’t even recognize my own thought process. That scared the shit out of me.  

Then I went to my doctor. She diagnosed me with clinical depression.

I was filled with relief.

Not my imagination

I am not a girl who gets sad when diagnosed with a medical problem. Every time my doctor tells me there is something wrong with me, I feel great relief because I now have name for what is making me feel the way I felt. With a diagnosis I can see a path for getting better.

Knowing that I had clinical depression was wonderful. I now knew that my brain was a bit broken. My brain chemistry was out of whack. I had felt like I was weak. Couldn’t cope. Broken. Overreacting. Stressed out...but now…now I knew that it wasn’t me being unable to deal with life. My brain was just not working right.

Here’s what you may not know about starting antidepressants. Things can get worse before they get better. I thought I had hit rock bottom of personal insanity, then I started Prozac. For a week I was worse. I couldn’t focus. I cried more. I simply couldn’t eat. I lost seven pounds in a week. I couldn’t sleep.

I had many, many moments when I thought that the cure was worse than the ill, but I started seeing little improvements. I worried less and had moments of joy. I should have felt hopeless, but I saw that I was getting better.  I finally begged my doctor for some Ambien so I could finally sleep.

Sleep helped. A lot.

I still had days when I couldn’t get off the couch. All I wanted to do was lie on the couch and stare into space. I couldn’t even pay attention to TV. The TV would get turned to E! and before I knew it I was watching hours of “Married to Jonas”, and I didn’t care.

The people who love me

I don’t know how long I would have allowed myself to wallow in deep depression if I didn’t have people who love me.

Dustin...sigh…you know he is amazing, right? I think there were moments when he was scared by my behavior. I woke him up at 4 am on many mornings and just cried on his shoulder. He was what every woman wants. Dustin didn’t try to fix my problems. He didn’t tell me not to worry. He didn’t get angry (often). He held me and was my strength until I was able to be strong again. Dustin woke up and put Vivian on the school bus. He fed Logan breakfast. He paid the bills. When I was unable to be a good mom, he stepped up and was the best dad.

My kids were forgiving. I don’t know if they would have weathered my storm as well if they were older, but I am thankful that they are innocent and have short memories. They did so many things to cheer me up. They picked me flowers, made silly faces, and told knock-knock jokes until I thought I would go even more crazy.  I could find myself switch from tears of misery to tears of joy and unworthiness in the matter of moments thanks to those two.

Leigh is my neighbor. Neighbor is an understatement of what she is to me. Most weekdays I see her more than Dustin. We talk about everything and nothing. I cannot stress enough the importance of having someone who can talk about the deepest maters of the heart at one moment and distract you with summaries of bad celebrity gossip the next. Leigh can tell my mood with a five word text message and be the friend I need at that moment with total selflessness. I learned how to cope with depression thanks to her. I’ve learned a lot about the importance of keeping distracted and busy so the blues don’t hold me down. Yes I’ve invaded her home with a sharp knife and a pot, so I could cook and keep myself busy.

My parents, though far away, were great help. I avoided my mom’s phone calls for a while because I didn’t want to cry on the phone with her. Thankfully she kept calling. Kept checking on me. Though being asked twice a day how I was doing was annoying at times, I needed it. My dad was (has always been) a calming influence. Though he doesn’t know it (you do now), my dad is the person who reminds me of my greater family history. Conversations with my dad bring back conversations from ten years back that help me see that depression is nothing new for me. Now is just a really bad spot.

My sister…well we’re in this head-fuck together. When I was at my worse she was strong for me, and when she is having a bad day I can be strong for her. I never want anyone to have to experience depression, but I am thankful for her understanding and solidarity.

I need another beer.

Getting back to normal

Yesterday it dawned on me, being happy is a lot less work than it use to be. Before my breakdown, before medicine, I was working hard every day to be happy. Maybe that’s why I changed my blog all that time ago… Happiness shouldn’t be work, but it was. I had to tell myself, “Michelle, look at this moment. This is what makes you happy. Be happy because of it.” Now happiness is natural. It is part of me, as happiness should be.

I’m also more forgiving to myself. My motto right now is ‘good enough’. I don’t have to be perfect, or even great. I just have to be good enough to be safe and healthy. I also accept the fact that sometimes I will not be able to sleep. I wake up most mornings at five a.m. now, but I accept that I can live a healthy life even if I am awake way before the sun comes up (I woke up at 3:30am this morning).

I’ve learned what I need to cope with times of stress and worry. I walk with Leigh many mornings. A brisk morning walk with someone who I can rant my worries and anger to, is a great way to settle myself to face the day. (Thankfully Leigh gets as much from the morning bitch-fest and walk as I do). I also now understand that my previous coping strategies work as well now as they did before I had a break down. I know its ok to use hobbies as a diversion from my worries. I had a bad day this week, and rather than allow myself to surrender to depression, I canned three batches for jam in two hours. It’s not normal, but it’s better than the alternative.

I’m learning that I am ok with having depression. I’m coming out of this experience stronger and more certain with the direction my life is taking. I am beginning to see the difference between being where I have to be in life and where I choose to be.

I’m not sure if depression is a phase for me, or if it will be a life-long battle. Either way, I think that I’ll be brave enough to get the help that I need to stay healthy.

Washington DC

Today I just have a lot of pictures from our trip to DC. We had fun, but it was a lot of walking for the kids. I can't wait for them to be a bit older so we can enjoy it more.

 

First time on the Metro



Logan and Jefferson

/My favorite memorial is the FDR one. The kids loved it too. Very interactive

Waving to Marine One, and maybe the president

Museum of Natural History

Vivian's request at the National Zoo was to see the flamingos.

We went out to dinner one night. I didn't have any pockets on my outfit so Logan said, "Mommy, I have pockets. I'll carry your phone for you."

Dustin explaining to Vivian that she cannot put her feet in the water because it is special memorial water and though other families put their feet in the water (gross) we DO NOT do that because its disrespectful. She didn't like or care about our explanation. So then we tell her there is goose poop in the water, which was an explanation she accepted.

The merry go round on the National Mall

The Campsite

We camped at Julian Price Park on the Blue Ridge Parkway a few miles outside of Blowing Rock, NC. The campground was so-so. The sites were pretty run down, and lacked privacy. We ended up in a site that was up a hill that was far from level, but had enough space in the woods for our tent. There was no hot water, electricity or showers, but flushing toilets and running water at the restrooms (yippee). We did typical camp things. The kids explored nature. Almost as soon as were arrived, Vivian broke off some branches and made them her 'nature pom-poms'. She then started cheering for nature. "Go nature, you can do it! Nature you're great!" Logan marked his territory like a doggie and proceeded to pee on every bush in our came site. If he didn't pee on it, he threw a rock at it.
On our second night, we learned the hard way that our rain tarp on the tent is not waterproof enough. It poured and our sleeping bags got soaked. Moments before I was ready to give up and go to a hotel for our last night, I discovered that the hot engine hood could dry our sleeping bags rather quickly. It saved the day. All I could think was, "Why has Top Gear not taught me this? The show has jokingly taught me to cook in the engine block, but not dry wet sleeping bags."

The camp dryer. Works best after driving up a mountain.

Playing Ponies, super heroes and monster trucks. Dustin's making a silly face because he was worried that I would embarrass him by posting video of him playing super silly with the kids.

Winner of Best Dressed Award: Footie Jammies with sandals



Bedtime story around the campfire.

Top of the world

I don't know how often I've mentioned this, but, my kids are great adventurers and hikers. We're up to 2 miles of hiking with kids and not carrying either kid. They whine very little, so long as they are fueled by a treat at the halfway point and when we are finished.
This trip our hikes were all about soaring views. We explored Linville Falls, Grandfather Mountain and Rough Ridge (right off the parkway).

View of Linville Falls. We also went to a viewpoint at the top of the falls.

After a mile of uphill hiking. Still happy.

I think the sign says it all.

Daddy encouraging future paratroopers...

By getting them to stand on the edge of an outcropping. "Toes off the edge, kids," he called.

The summit of Grandfather mountain.



Jumping on the swinging bridge. No one else wanted to come on the bridge with my wild hopping family.

At the summit, Dustin put Logan on his shoulders, then he jumped up and down, then he leaned over the edge with Logan. I actually yelled at him, "Stop that right now Dustin Cole, or I will vomit right here!!" To worry wort Michelle this is not a place to screw around with my kids. Thankfully Logan protested to Dustin's antics too.

See worry wort Michelle.

Lookout at Rough Ridge. We could see Charlotte from here, which is ohhh 3 hours South.

This is the type of trails we were on. Logan probably had the best workout out of four of us.

Don't want to come home

We are home from 3 nights of camping on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Within an hour of coming home I was wishing we were back in the mountains, roughing it. Back to the land of no cell service, no TV, no computer, no Facebook, no neighbor kids banging on the door, no cats meowing their accusations of abandonment at me, no laundry to wash....
I miss our damp tent, two burner stove, and four piece plastic place setting. I miss all of us wearing play clothes until they are brown with dirt, and marshmallow stickies. Most of all I miss that there is nothing to do but spend time with my little family and nothing is more important than this moment.

Camping home. We'll leave the light on for ya.

What I'm watching

Cooks Country & America's Test Kitchen (PBS)
Perhaps the best cooking show on TV. This show actually teaches you how to cook. Each episode I have a moment of  'My life has been changed!' Granted the change may just be to freeze extra tomato paste in ice cube trays in one tablespoon portions to use later (because really you never use the entire can). They are teaching me that there grilling and smoking with charcoal is not hard at all. Best of all is the awkward (like watching your aunt and uncle make out type of awkward) moment when Chris and Julia taste the food they cooked. They don't mean to sound sexy (oh, its so juicy. The flavor just explodes in my mouth. Oh. Ah. So creamy and rich.) Yes it is a boring PBS show, but if you give up, and just pay attention you'll be a better cook. Just give in to the fact that the Test Kitchen is right...bacon makes thing better, so does butter, pizza stones make better pizza crust, we all need a food processor, making from scratch doesn't have to take too long and it always tastes better.

Bunheads (ABC Family)
The first two episodes of this show made me cry like a girl. Bunheads is about women and girls for women and girls. I would never ask my husband to watch it. I won't put him through that. Its just a make me happy sort of show. I don't have to invest a lot into it, but I laugh. I cringe when the characters cringe. Oh and they talk really really fast.

Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes (DisneyXD)
I like super heroes. Again its just fun stuff. The Avengers cartoon on Disney (and on netflix) is something that we all can watch together. The kids love Hulk and Iron Man. I like that its a serial type story. I will probably go back to watch the first season.

I didn't even remember his name

If you have fifteen minutes to spare watch this video.



A while ago I listened to a podcast of This American Life. One man told a story of how he was living life with one non-function arm. His humor and honesty hit me. It made me thankful that Dustin's nerve damage was not as bad as it could have been. The images in the story struck close to my heard. I remember the first few weeks after Dustin was shot and watching him try and figure out how to do two handed tasks with essentially one hand. There are some moments/tasks that we all have too much pride to ask for help. Asking for help may mean that we aren't normal. Not well. Not complete.
Today I learned that the voice on my radio bringing me to tears with his description of how to grate cheese with one hand...well he died. His name was David Rakoff. He was an eternal pessimist. Often we mourn the passing of optimists. Today I mourn a man who with his dark whit and humor found an eternal place in my heart with his words that cut too close to home.

New Car

Dustin has been wanting a new car for a couple of years. He has had his Cougar for ten years. That's a long while for most people. The process for deciding on a new car has been a struggle. Dustin wants horsepower and speed. Cool. Racy. Awesome. I want something with a backseat. The two don't necessarily come in one package. This week things clicked. Dustin told me one night, "I forgot that the Dodge Challenger is a option." I responded, "The one in the George Washington commercial?" On Friday, I test drove the car. Dustin had done so before. I got out of the car, walked up to Dustin and said, "I want this one." By the end of the day papers had been signed and a blue one was located in Maryland (its coming to us as I type).
See here is the thing...I'm really really good at talking myself out of thing. So good, that I can talk others out of stuff. I rarely go with my gut. Never impulsive. Never ever. My mind works quickly and by the time most people are going with their guts, I've weighed options and pondered the implications and made the best decision for me. This car...well...I went with my gut. I put aside practicality (I have a Ford Taurus because its practical). I fell in immediate love with the Challenger.
I try to not think of image. Its too shallow and all that. This car is the image that I want to present to the world. It fits me/us. Its who Dustin is and who I am under my practical exterior. We are strong, old fashion, classic and unapologetically American. Now we have a car that fits us pretty much to a T.

Watch the commercial and tell me its not Dustin and me.

97% Humidity

For those of us from the desert, the hot and humid south is hard to imagine. So this my friends is what 97% humidity with an outside temperature of 78 degrees. I saw this the other morning and thought, "This must be what ice cubes see when they look out of a glass that is wet with condensation."

Daddy's home

Playing dressup with dad's solider gear

Vivian the soldier pony, of course

Hop on pop. Dustin is sick and jetlagged, but happy to have his kids fawning over him.

Its ok to be different

Logically we know that each child is different. Vivian is a spirited girl who doesn't like order. Logan is silly but has a strong sense of order. So here is an indication of these kids' differences. I cleaned both of their rooms on this particular day. The photo was taken in the afternoon.

Vivian's room



Logan's room

Kids have my camera

I just downloaded pictures to my computer for the first time in a month. Apparently 90% of the pictures were taken by kids of kids...and cats. Please enjoy what these little people do with my camera when I'm not looking.



Big Logan and Little Logan cruisin' the 'hood.



Big Logan wears safety gear when he rides. Of course its pool gear, but its safe right?



Jumping with a sprinkler under the trampoline



Apparently Logan has a wee bit of leprechaun in him.

It is what it is

There are words, phrases, that from person's lips mean one thing and something completely different from another mouth.

In the past months the Johns family has suffered two great losses: Grandma Bernice at 89 1/2 years old and Justin James at only 15 years old. I've not been able to go West and join my family for either funeral. I spent the days after learning of the losses talking to my mom, dad and sister. We did our best to talk each other through the mourning process. How do we remember the woman who shaped us with her love, humor and (frustratingly) deep bitterness? How do come to terms with the loss of a young man who's pure heart and joyful spirit was a beacon of love and compassion for not just our family but for our entire community?
It's not cut and dry.
...
I've found myself in conversational lulls with my family. We've talked a topic to death (no pun intended) and one of us says, "You know, It is what it is." Between us it says so much.
"I don't know what to say."
"Nothing we can do to change it."
"My heart's a little broken."
"Lets ride this out and see where life takes us/this."
"It's in God's hands now."
But mostly 'it' (sorrow, love, heartbreak, acceptance, love, joy, redemption...) simply is beyond explanation and definition.

Too many use this sacred phrase to say that they are lazy, useless, apathetic, or impotent. Shame on them.

In my heart, "It is what it is" is my phrase of surrender to my deepest and truest emotions.
Its what we say when even the most eloquent of us are lost for words.

Reading

Reading to your kids every single night...it works!!! A while ago, Vivian started pointing to words in books I read to her. "That says 'Jack' and that says 'Annie'." One day at the clinic, she was reading every word she knew on a sigh. It finally dawned on me that maybe I should get her some sort of books to help her learn to read. I found the BOB books on Amazon. I think they've been around forever. That's because these things work.

Vivian read the first book out of the box with no problem. She has been able to sound out words, and is just about through all twelve books in the first collection. She is has been confusing 'b' and 'd', but that's common. Practice and not reading when she is tired will help.

Tonight I started to read a library book with her and asked her if she wanted to try read this book. Well she did! I had to give her words like 'bulldozzer' and 'brother'. But she did awesome!

Vivian read this tonight

One additional tidbit about reading with the kids...

When Dustin is here, bedtime reading is his territory. I'm not sure I'm willing to give bedtime reading back to him. We will probably have family story time.

What I'm loving about story time is that I'm cramming a bit of my literary knowledge into little minds. Tonight we covered the topics of alliteration, personification, and compound words. There is nothing that makes a mommy swell with pride as when a five year old can understand personification. She will tell you, "Person-f-cation, is when animals are like people. It makes stories better." Close enough for five, right?



The past months

As you all know, Dustin's job has caused me to be a single mom for the past many months. I'm happy that Dustin's had this job opportunity. Each week, he has some new experience that makes me say, "Seriously this is our life!?! That's so awesome." For a couple kids from super small town America, its what we dreamed of when we dreamed about getting out and away from all we grew up with. Now we're going to work toward doing this diplomatic service thing as a family.
That said. In many ways this has been the most difficult deployment we've had. From my end...being a stay at home single mom of two preschool children...well its more work than I've ever done in my life. Days start at 6am and I don't really get a break until 8pm (on a good night). Before Dustin left, I had lofty goals of cooking healthy and going to the gym four times a week. I would get the kids into gymnastics and go to storytime at the library every week. I'd paint the interior of the house, and tile my bathroom. Well turns out that I can't do it all. Especially on my own. I've had to set aside a whole lot of my good ideas, just because I needed to keep my head above water.

This blog has been one of the many personal joys that had turned into a chore and thus was set aside for a while.

Dinners lately have been uninspired. Pancakes, snack plates, leftovers (of what, I know not because I only cook once maybe twice a week), homemade pizzas, cereal and corndogs are our typical meals. I dearly miss going to yoga, but I just couldn't get myself to the gym as often as I wanted, and I can't get enough time alone to do yoga at home without a kid or cat crawling under me.
But enough of the bad.
Cutting life back to the necessities has brought some unexpected progress.

Coming up....those unexpected progresses.

5 years old

The biggest My Little Pony balloon I could find, for Vivian's Pony party

Vivian told us, "The ponies are the decorations."

Present opening. Dustin watched the fun via webcam

Vivian's big present was this dollhouse. She is completely shocked in this photo. I thought it would be a house for her barbies. Foolish Michelle, its a house for the ponies.

Logan laid claim to the roller skates Grandpa and Grandma gave Vivian

Vivian's pony cake. All she wanted was a cake with ponies and writing. Mission accomplished.