Tag: loss

good grief, self-discovery, self-image/self-acceptance

Whack Tooth

WFAM
Two perfect smiles
Two perfect smiles

My tooth hurts. Yeah, it’s been hurting for about a month and a half. You know how we Moms are, last on the priority list not daring to add another appointment to our already jam-packed lives.

On our weekend getaway when T.Puzzle vomited his body weight, Mad Dog noticed I was using a tooth-paste for sensitive teeth. He said enough is enough; you are going to the dentist. Oh, joy.

Mad Dog took the initiative to track down a dentist and get all our insurance ducks in a row. He is a task-master this one is. One of the many reasons I love him. It can also be slightly annoying when you are desperately refusing to believe you are in need of immediate dental attention. I don’t like the dentist. The only one who enjoys it in our family is Full Speed. He likes that you get a new toothbrush when you are finished.

How, you may ask yourself, in the middle of all this dental hi-jinks, could I possibly be sad and miss my Mom? It is bizarre the way that your grief keeps itself quietly in your pocket and then jumps out and yells, “Surprise, you are no where near feeling normal and whole again, my dear!” Then it slips into dormancy waiting for the next moment you smugly believe you are doing okay.

My wisdom teeth are whack. So much so, that I had three employees of the dental facility make a stop in my room to say, “We have never seen the likes of wisdom teeth like yours before.” For real.

See if you can find the crazy tooth
See if you can find the crazy tooth

Not only are my wisdom teeth embedded deep in my gums (likely to never surface), they are perpendicular to my molars. They also tilt down a bit appearing as if they are aiming to crash into my jaw bone. They don’t cause me pain but have forced my gums to configure in an odd way forming pockets that are prone to infection. This is most likely what is causing the sensitivity in my molar region. Hopefully, a thorough cleaning and pricey mouthwash that is so magical, you can only purchase it at your dentist’s office (of course) will do the trick. So three hours (thank God for Mad Dog’s Mom who watched Full Speed who was still home from school with a low-grade fever) and nearly two-hundred dollars later (I would have much rather spent that at a spa!), I was ready for clearance.

Do you know who else had freakish wisdom teeth? My Mom. She had the exact same oddity where they never surfaced and jutted perpendicularly up against her molars. They never caused her too much of a problem either.

I take that back, they did cause me a problem today. They reminded me of the loss of my Mom. Luckily, when a tear of sadness formed in the corner of my eye, I was able to put it off as a tear of physical pain. You know how hygenists can be. Even though mine was a perfectly lovely woman, she wielded her metal hooks and probes like a ninja warrior.

I’m not upset that I imperfectly inherited my Mom’s wisdom teeth or that they reminded me of my loss; I’m actually kind of grateful. It’s another physical token that I am my Mom’s girl. I am always going to be her girl. That makes me smile, whack teeth and all.

good grief, mommyhood

The Stormy Vomit

WFAM

p8293081Mad Dog and I spontaneously (okay, Mad Dog’s the spontaneous one) decided to take our boys on an overnight trip. In theory it’s suppose to be fun-filled and breezy. In reality, there is fun to be had but with lots of effort and a whole lot of patience.

As we were heading to our destination, the boys began hitting each other and crying while seated in the backseat. I looked at Mad Dog and said, “This is a little different than the last time we went here (Mad Dog and I had gone about a year prior for a weekend getaway sans kids).”

“What do you mean? Is it because this time we have a convertible?” he replied in mock innocence. Yeah, if only it were as simple as a different car. The real difference was attempting to have fun while maintaining a favorable baseline of behavior for T.Puzzle and Full Speed.  Since they are getting a little older and slightly easier to manage, we were up for the challenge.

In the course of a day we went for a bike ride on tree-lined streets, took the boys to the beach (neither was a big fan and T.Puzzle continuously covered me in sand from head to toe which I did not find enjoyable) and let them frolic in the kiddie pool resort-side (their favorite part of the day). As evening approached we had managed to snag a respectable, college girl employed by the hotel that was also available for babysitting. The boys hit it off with her immediately and Mad Dog and I were able to have a late dinner in peace.

We returned to our room after dinner to find T.Puzzle and Full Speed sound asleep and looking extremely adorable. It’s amazing how much love can fill your heart when gazing upon slumbering children. We opened the door to the balcony and let the sounds of the ocean fill our room and proceeded to drift off to sleep.

p8293089
At about one-thirty in the morning T.Puzzle woke up vomiting. This was not a little spit-up situation; this was full-on vomit warfare. Mad Dog and I were dazed and confused but you know how that Mommy instinct kicks in and you do what you have to do. I became very directive with Mad Dog telling him how to help (which he did beautifully) and proceeded to catch vomit, comfort my sad, little T.Puzzle and clean him up as best I could.

Naturally, he joined us in our bed and went immediately asleep (again, must be due to the magic of Mom and Dad’s bed). Naturally, I proceeded to freak out. My mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that T.Puzzle had the swine flu and I imagined several worst case scenarios. I think Moms tend to do this sometimes and that’s kind of expected especially when our kids our sick. However, since my Mom died, I go to scary places a lot more quickly and I linger there. My Mom had been complaining of a stomach ache, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died days later. Talk about shock and awe. I’m fearful something as awful as that could happen at any turn.

I was awake for what seemed like hours. I cried some; I freaked out some more and missed my Mom a whole lot. Mad Dog was patient and comforted me the best he could.

T.Puzzle woke up the next day outrageously happy, wanting food and telling knock-knock jokes (which he is really bad at by the way). The storm had passed; I was back to being grounded in the present moment. All was well, at least for today.

p8293099

good grief, marital blissishness, self-discovery, self-image/self-acceptance

My Penance

WFAM

p5262756

I went to get my hair cut (a teeny trim since everyone knows I’m growing it out) and colored. I started getting gray hair when I was thirty years old (I’m approaching thirty-five now). This is something I inherited from my Mom (early gray, that is). Yes, I did get her sense of humor (which is good if you think I’m funny) and her slightly imperfect yet glorious, beaming smile, but …..I also got this. I was able to deny it for a couple years by getting tedious and time-consuming highlights. My denial process had me believing that these highlights “blended away” my gray hair. They did not. A couple years ago I made the decision/commitment to single-process hair color. It is faster, less expensive and I love that I have hair color now that is similar to that which I had when I was four years old (golden and delightful).

If I lived in Hollywood and anyone actually gave a damn about what I looked like, I would have to get my hair colored every three weeks. Since I am a Mom who lives in the real world, I go more on an every six-to-eight week basis. My stylist, Cris (misspelled for her enjoyment), is a talented and lovely young (emphasis on the young for her enjoyment as well, which she really is since she’s still in her twenties) woman who I have found to be a kindred spirit. So, not only does she make my hair fabulous, I get to have a real, enjoyable conversation while I’m there. That’s priceless.

As usual, we spent our time catching each other up on each other’s lives (hers could be a whole other blog, I’m telling you) and it feels great. I tell her about the boys and some of their adorable antics and then dive into the not-so-great dynamic I’m currently experiencing with my own Dad. I thought I handled it all fairly well until later.

I was scheduled to take the boys over to Grandma and Grandpa’s since their Great Uncle and Great Aunt were in town for a short visit. I picked them up from school having relished my break from them during the day and took them home to get them ready for our visit.

You would think that having them with me for only an hour-and-a-half before Grandma and Grandpa’s would be a cake walk. It was for the most part until it was time to leave. Some sort of fracas started over who was going to open the front door and before I knew it, fists were flying and teeth were bared (T.Puzzle is famous for his biting shenanigans). I sent both to time-out and they begin screaming and crying in unison begging me wildly not to leave them (I’ve never done that to be clear), that they really wanted to go to Grandma’s and that they were super sorry. As I loaded up the truck with the diaper bag and I could hear them carrying on inside, I had a fantasy of getting in my truck and simply driving away. However, I fought that instinct and I went back and retrieved them.

We arrived and overall, they did well. There was only one biting incident involving T.Puzzle and his cousin (so sorry to their cousin, Lil’ Superman) which never ceases to mortify me, T.Puzzle’s glasses almost were broken (twice!) and general mayhem ensued (mostly in good fun). The boys spent time with their Great Aunt and Great Uncle, enjoyment was had by all and we were on our way.

Upon returning home, an ugly mood that I didn’t realize had been brewing in the pit of my stomach started to show itself. Today, as I write this, I can see it with more objectivity that it has to do with feeling sad about losing my Mom and being confused about my new, shifted family dynamics. Since I had shared it all with Cris the stylist, it sort of brought it unwillingly to the forefront of my consciousness. Last night, I did not see that.

How did I handle it? Not well. I took it out on Mad Dog and said some things I didn’t mean. It was along the lines of how I wanted him to be more hands-on with the boys (he is very hands on – I think maybe I wish he could be home more is all). I didn’t say it so nicely though. I was more accusatory and I was not open to hearing anything he had to say. I wound up shooting myself in the foot. Normally, on the weekends, Mad Dog will get up with the boys in the morning so I can have a break from the breakfast routine. I got up with the boys instead today. It was my penance.

good grief

sad…today

WFAM

I’m sad. Some days I feel happy, some days I feel confident and that anything is possible (like yesterday when I started my blog), and some days I am downright moody. My moods change like the wind. I’m all four seasons in one day. Usually, when a sad cloud blocks my sun, it takes a little bit of work on my part to find my way again. Then the cycle starts anew.

My Mom died in March. She was 67 years old. Our relationship was not without complications as so many mother/daughter relationships are. I miss her every day even if we didn’t always see eye to eye.

Since the loss of my Mom I have decided to grow my hair out. I’ve had the quintessential angled bob that everyone seems to have had in the past 2-3 years. I’m about the same age as Posh Spice, who claims to have started that trendy, angled cut, and my husband is a soccer player nicknamed Mad Dog (okay, so he played it in high school but he was really, really good or so I’m told). Posh is a little more attractive, well, maybe, a lot more attractive and a tad more financially sound. Her husband has also been slightly more successful at making soccer his lifetime career than my husband. That’s not my point. It’s the haircut.

For the past two years that was the haircut my Mom saw me have. She had seen me give birth to my second son (T.Puzzle) and attempt to juggle my new baby, older son (Full Speed), a dog, a marriage and a move. I have come to identify with the haircut. I was going to be a sassy short-haired girl indefinitely. It fits me like a glove.

Then my Mom died, my world stopped and I decided to grow my hair out.

My hair is definitely longer now. I can put it in a tiny, desperate pony tail. The longer my hair grows, the farther I am from the point at which my Mom last knew me. That is making me sad….today.