...if we have an issue, we'll deal with it...

I've learned to turn a blind eye to things. I don't separate my laundry by colors. I don't worry about sack lunches. I'm the one who has company over and forgets to put away the bras that are air drying in the laundry room. I'm the one who needs to dust the shelves, but is readied with a veggie tray at a moments notice. I'm the one who worries less about my kids brushing their teeth and more about not having them look like hobos going to school. My priorities are a little skewed, but most everything is taken care of...as much as I care to, I should say.

When raising kids, I used to be more obsessed with every aspect of their school lives. I used to fret over snacks, fundraisers, and knowing all of their teachers. Where did that get me really? While life has taught me to ease up on some things, when it comes to the parent teacher conferences I think I'm as nervous as maybe the kids are. I steady myself, waiting to be told that while Abe looks mild mannered, he really has been selling cigarettes to some 5th graders...I use Abe only because his was the conference I needed to attend this year...

I sit and listen to his teacher explain certain strengths he has. I listen intently, as some of the things she is mentioning I have never seen in Abe. She shows me his handwriting and I literally ask her, "...this is Abe Hunt we are talking about, right?" Turns out, the kid is excelling in everything, not just the things he already knows he's good at. Turns out when he told me that he's reading at a 7th grade level (to which I scratched my head as he's always having someone else read for him like a seeing-eyed-dog), he was right. Turns out all of the things that I thought I knew about Abe, I didn't. He's not the brawn like he likes to say, he's the brains too.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to me, but for some reason it was more of a reassurance. The idea that maybe I haven't let this one fall through the cracks, was a load off my mind. The fact that even though I've never seen him do some of his work, it's actually getting done, and done well. I constantly worry about the notion my kids going to this small town school, is too easy for me. They head down the street and eight hours later they return. I don't have to be there to know that it is going on. I just get to be blessed with teachers and an administration that is seemingly taking care of what needs to be done.

I have ended the last couple of conferences with the same speech. It's not to scare or preach to them, more like let them know where we are. I flat out tell them that the next couple of months could be interesting. We are approaching the anniversary of their dad's death, and from that point I'm not sure how they will handle it. I'm not foreseeing a major issue, but I want to let them know that I'm always sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This years teacher, as in years pas,t were completely understanding, and receptive to what I had to say. However, this year's teacher said something I might not forget. She looked at me, and simply said, "You have nothing to worry about. You come highly respected for what you do and how you are doing it. Your kids are excelling, and so are you...if we have an issue, we'll deal with it."

While there is a bra drying in my laundry room, there is a veggie tray ready to be put out at 3 pm. While I know I need to vacuum, sitting watching TV with Nora is just more fun. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to tell me who my kid is to me. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to tell me that things were going okay. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to reassure me that no matter what may happen, no matter how I could possibly avoid it, if we have an issue, we'll deal with it...

Clapton, Marley, and Muddy Waters...

I've never been about a pity party, never. Life gives us what it does and I'm all about trying to find the silver lining. It sounds trite, naive, and not in touch with reality I'm sure. But, it's how I've come to live, not because it's easy...not because it's fun...not because it always even works. It's my coping mechanism. If for a brief moment you can try to make yourself believe at the darkest of hours that indeed the sun will come out tomorrow. You're still playing the game of life and at times you feel like you've got things figured out. But when REAL questions about life come up, you realize you don't know shit about shit.

When it was time to plan Jason's funeral, I'll be honest, I didn't want to. I had just spent days without sleep, cried until nothing even came out of my eyes anymore, and had to tell my kids that their father would never be coming back. I wanted to crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head and just be alone...even though I felt more alone than I ever had before. However, that's not how life worked. There were details to be worked out, flowers to be ordered, and a proper good-bye had to be planned. It was comforting that the funeral director is a friend of ours, and he understood me from the minute I started talking, even though I felt like a zombie. I told him, I wanted this to be a celebration of a person. I wanted this, even though it was sad, to somehow have people smiling. Let's not put the focus on missing Jason, but rather celebrate the person he was.

Jason loved music. The funeral director tapped into every song Jason had ever posted on Facebook and sort of made a "Jason Soundtrack". It was eclectic, fun, and a thoughtful representation of who Jason was. I still find it funny that people would come up to me to give their condolences and say, "...did I just hear the 'Humpty Dance'?" The Beastie Boys, Marvin Gaye, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Clapton, Marley, Muddy Waters, Phish...they just kept playing. There were some songs that brought tears and others that I couldn't help laughing at, I mean we were in a funeral home. The point is, I've prided myself since that day that there is beauty in everything, laughter after tears, the gift in knowing someone even if they are no longer here.

When a child asks why bother praying? What did she do to deserve this? Why does God hate her? That's when the old stand-by answers don't even exist anymore. These are valid questions, they deserve valid answers. These are the times when any pity I have, always goes to my kids. It isn't fair to have to explain the theory of life to a five year old. It seems pointless to try to tell her anything more than the fact that she unknowingly is this unbelievable gift I was given, despite the fact that her father is no longer here. He is still a part of her, and she can connect with him at will...but her little brain and humongous heart can't connect with that...and I don't blame her.

When life is more real than anything going on around you, it's slightly isolating. No one really understands exactly what you are going through, because they aren't living it. I am very fortunate to have people. I am fortunate to have people that even though they understand me, they know they will never understand what we are going through. And they are okay with that, because just knowing they are there is my consolation. My struggle is knowing that no matter how hard I try, some of my explanations will never be consoling. That's REAL LIFE...and some days, there just aren't any silver linings. But there's always Clapton, Marley, and Muddy Waters...

...a good cry, stiff drink, or both

It's finally Fall...finally, that time of year when the air gets crisp, night comes earlier, your skin gets thinner and you are surrounded by color that changes daily. For me, this month is sort of bitter sweet. While I've had so many wonderful things that have happened to me, there have been some things that have changed me forever. It's ironic, the beauty of Fall. What I long to see all year long, is really the dying off of something so that come spring, it can bloom once again.

To me October always means anniversaries, baking, decorating, warm cardigans, and your favorite jeans. The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, and the never ending quest to find the perfect/cheap Halloween costume...knowing that making it yourself means really spending as much as you would just buying the damned thing. Getting back out your cozy socks, sweat pants, and looking forward to snuggling under blankets while watching movies...even if it's because you refuse to turn the heat on until November. It's simple minded. It's easy. It's heartwarming, this love affair with October...but at times it comes with a price.

The miracle of life is one that is most definitely taken for granted. I used to be one of these people. The first time we became pregnant I was ready to shout it to anyone I knew, and I was something like 4 weeks pregnant. When you have to be shown how quickly that miracle can be taken away from you, it hardens your heart. When you have to deliver a baby you will never take home, somewhere deep inside, it changes you. Suddenly, all of these other women, of whom you never knew their sorrow, come out of the woodwork. They too had lost a baby. And now, you are in this strange and sad sorority of women who know too well the miracle of life...how it should never be taken for granted. So, I'll either have a good cry, make a stiff drink, or perhaps both (hell knows I've earned it) later this month. From that sorrow, I learned something more profound, your strength not only comes from you, but also the ones you love around you. Little did I know then this would merely be a 'try-on' for my latter life.

I knew before I was even asked. I knew I wanted to get married in October. I had a mental date set up in my head for years. If Jason ever asked me to marry him, I knew I wanted to get married on the same date that we met. If that date would have fallen on a Wednesday, I still would have done it. To most, meeting someone on Friday the 13th would have been a bad omen, but it was a day that intensely changed my life for ever. Our wedding wasn't fancy, but it had meaning. Years later, people would comment to me how much they loved our wedding, the ceremony and the reception. It was a culmination of two families and amazing friends coming together to celebrate. What could be better than that? I'm a week out from this anniversary, and I'm not really sure how I feel. One would understand being sad on that day now...and at times when I think about it, it does make me sad. But, then I think of all that came from it. I think about all of the things I've been given since then.

A wise person told me recently,"... you didn't choose for your entire life to change...you didn't choose for your husband to leave...it happened and now you have to deal with it the best you can." They're right. It's anniversaries like the one I'm approaching that are sort of a mind scramble. It's like I want to mentally prepare myself for that day...yeah, I know the OCD in that statement is easily spread with knife. I'm not obtuse enough to think that I have any control over it. It has been sort of creeping up on me like a cheap pair of underwear...this sort of pit in my stomach. From an extraordinary life, there will always have been pit falls, hard times. On this October 13th (unlucky to some), I'm going to try to focus on the extraordinary gifts I've been given. The extraordinary laughs I have had, and the extraordinary place I have ended up with this person who is no longer here to celebrate with me. October, you are one tough broad. But, you haven't taken this one out yet...