Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Boot straps
One of the things I really like about my job is the number of people I get to meet and talk to. Not only talk to, but many share part of their life story in very personal ways that you don't typically get to hear.
Recently, I was talking with a lady as I was working with her. She was a tiny older lady (as in she can claim more years to her life than she can claim pounds on her body). My initial impression was a sweet little lady. However, there seemed to be a resolve or a toughness just beneath the surface. The conversation was mainly how she wants to get stronger (by doing therapy) so she can return to all of her activities and social events. Imperceptibly, the conversation took a turn. She started to talk about how she was not always so social. That she was frequently teased in junior high and high school and always walked with her head down and shoulders slumped with very little respect for herself. After high school she got married and had 7 kids. Never working outside of the home and pretty much just sticking to the house. Not having many friends or interacting with many people outside of her husband and kids. Then one day, her husband called during his lunch. He told her he was tired of his life and was no longer coming home, she did not see it coming. And he never did. She said that day, she wanted to walk down the middle of a road and get hit by a car, or curl up and die. She had no friends. And now she was the single mom of 7. She very shortly was going to have bills to pay, no work experience, and no job. She said that night she didn't know what she was going to do, she just wanted to die. However, for some reason she said she couldn't even verbalize all of these years later, she woke up with the determination she was going to make it. She was going to do right by her kids and show them what can be made of. She did not want to run into her husband and give him the idea that he had beat them down. Personally, if it was just her, she would have liked to curl up and die, but she said that she couldn't do that to her kids. She got a job. That at some point turned into a career that lead her to a bachelor's degree. She wanted her kids to have more of a support system than she originally had. So she started going to church more. Then other community events. She said in those early years, there were days and weeks she still did not want to live. However, she wanted to do right by her kids. So she got up and did what needed to be done. And slowly, she found herself living and loving a very extroverted social life. The days, and weeks, and years she would dress and hold herself in a manner that if she ran into her ex-husband, he would not see a broken woman that she felt she was, she somehow became that person.
The idea of raising 7 kids alone impresses me. It had to have been hard, doing the math, it had to be in the 50's or 60's this happened. The American culture was not nearly as accepting of divorce singles moms as it is today. On the days I find it hard to drag myself out of bed for whatever reason, on the days I just don't seem to have enough time to get everything done... she had to have had that with several magnifications. She got herself out of bed, and pulled up on her boot straps. And somehow got herself father than she ever imagined. And gave those of us who know her and her story a true role model to look up to. She just did it.
Recently, I was talking with a lady as I was working with her. She was a tiny older lady (as in she can claim more years to her life than she can claim pounds on her body). My initial impression was a sweet little lady. However, there seemed to be a resolve or a toughness just beneath the surface. The conversation was mainly how she wants to get stronger (by doing therapy) so she can return to all of her activities and social events. Imperceptibly, the conversation took a turn. She started to talk about how she was not always so social. That she was frequently teased in junior high and high school and always walked with her head down and shoulders slumped with very little respect for herself. After high school she got married and had 7 kids. Never working outside of the home and pretty much just sticking to the house. Not having many friends or interacting with many people outside of her husband and kids. Then one day, her husband called during his lunch. He told her he was tired of his life and was no longer coming home, she did not see it coming. And he never did. She said that day, she wanted to walk down the middle of a road and get hit by a car, or curl up and die. She had no friends. And now she was the single mom of 7. She very shortly was going to have bills to pay, no work experience, and no job. She said that night she didn't know what she was going to do, she just wanted to die. However, for some reason she said she couldn't even verbalize all of these years later, she woke up with the determination she was going to make it. She was going to do right by her kids and show them what can be made of. She did not want to run into her husband and give him the idea that he had beat them down. Personally, if it was just her, she would have liked to curl up and die, but she said that she couldn't do that to her kids. She got a job. That at some point turned into a career that lead her to a bachelor's degree. She wanted her kids to have more of a support system than she originally had. So she started going to church more. Then other community events. She said in those early years, there were days and weeks she still did not want to live. However, she wanted to do right by her kids. So she got up and did what needed to be done. And slowly, she found herself living and loving a very extroverted social life. The days, and weeks, and years she would dress and hold herself in a manner that if she ran into her ex-husband, he would not see a broken woman that she felt she was, she somehow became that person.
The idea of raising 7 kids alone impresses me. It had to have been hard, doing the math, it had to be in the 50's or 60's this happened. The American culture was not nearly as accepting of divorce singles moms as it is today. On the days I find it hard to drag myself out of bed for whatever reason, on the days I just don't seem to have enough time to get everything done... she had to have had that with several magnifications. She got herself out of bed, and pulled up on her boot straps. And somehow got herself father than she ever imagined. And gave those of us who know her and her story a true role model to look up to. She just did it.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
That's my boy
Today, Jet was getting his small fishing boat ready to take out. As I was at work, it was mainly him doing it with the boys running around (and a neighbor helping when he needed another adult's help).
The story I get when I get home is this (as combined by me, as each party told me their version of it, in of itself was amusing and a sign of each person's personality)
At one point, Jet was winching the boat back up onto its trailer (I'm a little unclear of why it was ever removed but I have long since learned to not ask too many questions). Pyrope was sitting in the boat on one of the seats. Obsidian was standing in the yard watching. As Jet was winching the boat up more and more, Pyrope was laughing in delight. Obsidian started to scream for Pyrope to get out of the boat. "Out Pyrope! Out! Pyrope! Pyrope! You too high! Pyrope not safe! Get out! Daddy stop! Not safe!" Jet continued winching trying to verbally telly Obsidian it was okay. Pyrope continuing to squeal with delight and telling Jet he wanted to do it more. Typically I am the voice of safety. I guess Obsidian is following my footsteps (earlier this week, Obsidian explained to another child that he was carrying Pyrope's lunchbox with snack in it for camp because if Pyrope was carrying it, he would lose it. Which would have been a very likely scenario. This is also a case of the Jet-Pyrope vs Ruby-Obsidian similarities.)
That is my boy.
The story I get when I get home is this (as combined by me, as each party told me their version of it, in of itself was amusing and a sign of each person's personality)
At one point, Jet was winching the boat back up onto its trailer (I'm a little unclear of why it was ever removed but I have long since learned to not ask too many questions). Pyrope was sitting in the boat on one of the seats. Obsidian was standing in the yard watching. As Jet was winching the boat up more and more, Pyrope was laughing in delight. Obsidian started to scream for Pyrope to get out of the boat. "Out Pyrope! Out! Pyrope! Pyrope! You too high! Pyrope not safe! Get out! Daddy stop! Not safe!" Jet continued winching trying to verbally telly Obsidian it was okay. Pyrope continuing to squeal with delight and telling Jet he wanted to do it more. Typically I am the voice of safety. I guess Obsidian is following my footsteps (earlier this week, Obsidian explained to another child that he was carrying Pyrope's lunchbox with snack in it for camp because if Pyrope was carrying it, he would lose it. Which would have been a very likely scenario. This is also a case of the Jet-Pyrope vs Ruby-Obsidian similarities.)
That is my boy.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Time wrinkles
Most of the time, anniversaries don't mean a whole lot to me. I reflect on the event but not that excessively. I might or might not feel a little effect on my general mood but nothing that noteworthy.
Quite unexpectedly, I've stumbled onto an exception. This coming Wednesday, it will be 6 years since my dad passed away. I find myself reflecting on it very frequently, and a general sadness in my mood.
I find it interesting because this has never really happened for this anniversary before. I've always noted it, but not even the first year did it really bother me. I find myself wondering "Why now?"
I casually observed that it was going to fall on the same day of the week when I was mapping out my plans for June this spring.
My dad loved kids. He would have loved being a grandfather. He would have been great at it. My kids would have loved him. He would have loved how much they love classic cars, fixing things, and trains. Oh, how he would have loved how much Obsidian loves trains. I am very much my father's daughter. In many ways I think and act like he did. It mystifies my mom at times, it always has. Obsidian is my son. My karma if you will. In the past few months in particular, I can hear my dad laughing in my mind's eye (or ear I guess), at me having to deal with his antics, what goes around comes around. For the most part, they are things that I could have done. Jet looks at Obsidian and responds in a manner much as my mother did "I never would have dreamed of doing that as a kid!" Stunts like spelling his name instead of saying his name when he realized he was being tested, now that is something I would have done. Jet, Pyrope, my mother, no way. My dad would have done it too.
The night DB1/SIL called the big family meeting, I thought with a vague sense of irony how we had gathered as a family in the exact same spot on the exact same day 6 years earlier. Only a little later at night and to celebrate Jet and I putting a bid in on our house (that we won).
A long time family friend posted on Facebook that she was running a 5k in memory of my dad on Saturday, just a few days shy of his anniversary.
Then came a series of friends on Facebook posting how their dad was not that great, but their mom or grandfather or stepfather was great to them. I only noticed one friend actually putting something up about her dad. That seemed to seal my fate in remembering. Or remembering and being sadden so much.
Things in general have been busy for me lately. Much as they were that June. I was the sole financial support for Jet and I at that point. I was doing a crazy commuting 240 miles one way 3-4 times a week from when my dad first came out of remission the first week of May, until today, the Friday before he died when I moved back in with my parents. I was the point person for running interference for issues/people that really did not need to be dealt with by my larger immediate family. I will always remember one particular day in early June, I worked one case, drove 240 miles to go sign papers at a bank and to hand deliver a letter (which I also sent an identical copy by certified mail) written by an attorney to a group of {ehov**'s Witn*** to stay away from my parents home (they kept coming to "comfort" my mom by talking about how in the Bible people lived hundreds of years but we are now so evil we have a shorter lifespan (I fail to see the "comfort" in this), but very much distressing my dad and siblings; my mom saying she couldn't ask them to not come back because that would be impolite... they stayed away for a good 6 months to a year after the letter), I drove back and did another case (so 7 hours of driving total). As I was sitting on my balcony, trying to escape the sweltering heat of our 2nd floor flat, and eat a very late dinner, and do some paperwork for work, I got a phone call from one of my dad's first cousins (as we were asking all phone calls came through me because of some of the craziness and time restraints my dad had). She began talking about how if my dad "had enough faith in Jesus Christ he could be healed" and could she please give me some books so I could give them to him so he had a chance to continue living on this Earth. Are you joking me? Are you seriously joking me? She was not. I said sure, I would pick them up and pass it on when it was appropriate (thinking it was way easier and less stressful on the rest of my family to deal with it in this manner). At this point, I decided I needed to get a break. So I went in and check my email. Sitting in my email, was one of the best gifts I ever got. I think it always will be. A dear internet friend of mine had asked the day before about what church my dad went to. My dad was a traditional Catholic (meaning he doesn't believe in much that happened since the second Vatican Council in the 1960's. Think Latin Mass and the like). There were only 2 churches that he went to (as in within 50 miles of where he lived, one only had a Mass in Latin 2 times a month for the most part, the other once a week, with some exceptions). She had managed to get a mass said for him later that week. She was initially told that they could not accommodate a traditional mass for him until mid July. She persisted and got one for that week. I'm not sure if this was a regularly scheduled Mass or one that was scheduled and said specifically for him (as in it didn't normally happen at all). This meant a lot to my dad. A lot. And to me. But it was a very large gift for my dad. The kicker was, she is Jewish. I immediately called my dad. He knew I was in town for the bank, and I had promised him no more JHs would be showing up for a while but he didn't know that was what I was doing that particular day. Nor did he have any idea about his cousin and that phone call. Knowing that the irony of the situation wouldn't be lost on him I started the conversation with "I know this is going to sound like a bad joke, but this actually happened to me today. Now if you had 2 Christians and a Jew, who is going to give you the most religious support and comfort?"
I think of how the room my dad was admitted to exactly a week before he passed away wound up being the same room I did my first evaluation of a patient as an employee of the hospital 5 days after he passed away. It was the luck of the draw. When my boss saw my face and inquired, she said I could put it back. I did it because I knew would eventually have to, the longer I would have waited, I think the harder it would have been. This came up quickly and unexpectedly, so I didn't have a chance to ponder it before hand. Still, this weekend when I work, I'll be making sure that is not on my list of rooms I'm seeing people in.
If find myself thinking of how it was the last day of working at my old job. How cruel they were making the last thing I had to do was open a Hospice case. Of driving to move back in with my parents for 3 months. Of that dinner, less than 2 hours after I officially "moved back home" that my dad announced that he changed his mind that he wanted to pass away at home not in a Hospice center. An hour or two later privately saying he did not think my mom could handle the minute to minute end of life decisions of medications and care. But felt that I could. He was waiting for me. At 2 am that same day, less than 8 hours after living at home, my dad collapsing on the kitchen floor and not being able to get back up without help. The downward slide of his health that Saturday but he was still basically functioning but it was clear it would not be for much longer. Officially getting Hospice services. Getting his plan in place with him. Listening to him say he didn't want be sick for any more than 3 days. On Sunday, his incessant questioning if he was going to die that day. That he did not want to die that day. It was my sister's 18th birthday, and Father's Day. He didn't want to "ruin" those days. I kept assuring him, he was close, but not that close. Monday morning, checking on him but going into start my new job so I could get benefits. How he kept telling me to go. I went. It sucked. I got benefits. The descent into Tuesday. The long night Tuesday night. Watching my sister, DB2, and DB3 realize that death was close. Watching my mom, DB1, and my dad's twin not really get how close it was. On Wednesday, realizing that if he didn't pass soon, I would no longer be able to keep him comfortable at home. Signing the transfer papers to a facility that could give him that care. The transport people coming. Me working on the final papers for him to go, my mom and DB1 in with him and the transport people coming back out and saying he had passed. The surrealism of it all.
But it happened. And we continue to live. And miss him. And I try to honor him by keeping his wish that the day that he passed, was not a day for unhappiness in the future.
I've felt him since then. The day I was figuring out my due date for Pyrope. I did it multiple times. In multiple ways (on line, calendar, and a tool that OBs use). Each time it was the same. My due date was the 1 year anniversary of his passing. How frequently Pyrope gets hiccups (from in utero to this day), my dad was plagued with horrible hiccups from his first surgery on. Pyrope never minds his. Obsidian trying to fix things. Obsidian and all of the different sounds he makes for trains (Something my dad did as well. Can you believe I know if he is pretending to be a large or small or diesel or steam or passenger or freight train that is either going in the country or the city by the type of sound Obsidian makes?)
So I just find myself thinking, and remembering. And missing him.
This year, weather permitting, the boys and I will be riding alone a bike path, then picking up the train to get back to our car. Something he would have loved (he rode to work on his bike the Thursday before he passed away and he LOVED trains). It is the bitter and the sweet.
Quite unexpectedly, I've stumbled onto an exception. This coming Wednesday, it will be 6 years since my dad passed away. I find myself reflecting on it very frequently, and a general sadness in my mood.
I find it interesting because this has never really happened for this anniversary before. I've always noted it, but not even the first year did it really bother me. I find myself wondering "Why now?"
I casually observed that it was going to fall on the same day of the week when I was mapping out my plans for June this spring.
My dad loved kids. He would have loved being a grandfather. He would have been great at it. My kids would have loved him. He would have loved how much they love classic cars, fixing things, and trains. Oh, how he would have loved how much Obsidian loves trains. I am very much my father's daughter. In many ways I think and act like he did. It mystifies my mom at times, it always has. Obsidian is my son. My karma if you will. In the past few months in particular, I can hear my dad laughing in my mind's eye (or ear I guess), at me having to deal with his antics, what goes around comes around. For the most part, they are things that I could have done. Jet looks at Obsidian and responds in a manner much as my mother did "I never would have dreamed of doing that as a kid!" Stunts like spelling his name instead of saying his name when he realized he was being tested, now that is something I would have done. Jet, Pyrope, my mother, no way. My dad would have done it too.
The night DB1/SIL called the big family meeting, I thought with a vague sense of irony how we had gathered as a family in the exact same spot on the exact same day 6 years earlier. Only a little later at night and to celebrate Jet and I putting a bid in on our house (that we won).
A long time family friend posted on Facebook that she was running a 5k in memory of my dad on Saturday, just a few days shy of his anniversary.
Then came a series of friends on Facebook posting how their dad was not that great, but their mom or grandfather or stepfather was great to them. I only noticed one friend actually putting something up about her dad. That seemed to seal my fate in remembering. Or remembering and being sadden so much.
Things in general have been busy for me lately. Much as they were that June. I was the sole financial support for Jet and I at that point. I was doing a crazy commuting 240 miles one way 3-4 times a week from when my dad first came out of remission the first week of May, until today, the Friday before he died when I moved back in with my parents. I was the point person for running interference for issues/people that really did not need to be dealt with by my larger immediate family. I will always remember one particular day in early June, I worked one case, drove 240 miles to go sign papers at a bank and to hand deliver a letter (which I also sent an identical copy by certified mail) written by an attorney to a group of {ehov**'s Witn*** to stay away from my parents home (they kept coming to "comfort" my mom by talking about how in the Bible people lived hundreds of years but we are now so evil we have a shorter lifespan (I fail to see the "comfort" in this), but very much distressing my dad and siblings; my mom saying she couldn't ask them to not come back because that would be impolite... they stayed away for a good 6 months to a year after the letter), I drove back and did another case (so 7 hours of driving total). As I was sitting on my balcony, trying to escape the sweltering heat of our 2nd floor flat, and eat a very late dinner, and do some paperwork for work, I got a phone call from one of my dad's first cousins (as we were asking all phone calls came through me because of some of the craziness and time restraints my dad had). She began talking about how if my dad "had enough faith in Jesus Christ he could be healed" and could she please give me some books so I could give them to him so he had a chance to continue living on this Earth. Are you joking me? Are you seriously joking me? She was not. I said sure, I would pick them up and pass it on when it was appropriate (thinking it was way easier and less stressful on the rest of my family to deal with it in this manner). At this point, I decided I needed to get a break. So I went in and check my email. Sitting in my email, was one of the best gifts I ever got. I think it always will be. A dear internet friend of mine had asked the day before about what church my dad went to. My dad was a traditional Catholic (meaning he doesn't believe in much that happened since the second Vatican Council in the 1960's. Think Latin Mass and the like). There were only 2 churches that he went to (as in within 50 miles of where he lived, one only had a Mass in Latin 2 times a month for the most part, the other once a week, with some exceptions). She had managed to get a mass said for him later that week. She was initially told that they could not accommodate a traditional mass for him until mid July. She persisted and got one for that week. I'm not sure if this was a regularly scheduled Mass or one that was scheduled and said specifically for him (as in it didn't normally happen at all). This meant a lot to my dad. A lot. And to me. But it was a very large gift for my dad. The kicker was, she is Jewish. I immediately called my dad. He knew I was in town for the bank, and I had promised him no more JHs would be showing up for a while but he didn't know that was what I was doing that particular day. Nor did he have any idea about his cousin and that phone call. Knowing that the irony of the situation wouldn't be lost on him I started the conversation with "I know this is going to sound like a bad joke, but this actually happened to me today. Now if you had 2 Christians and a Jew, who is going to give you the most religious support and comfort?"
I think of how the room my dad was admitted to exactly a week before he passed away wound up being the same room I did my first evaluation of a patient as an employee of the hospital 5 days after he passed away. It was the luck of the draw. When my boss saw my face and inquired, she said I could put it back. I did it because I knew would eventually have to, the longer I would have waited, I think the harder it would have been. This came up quickly and unexpectedly, so I didn't have a chance to ponder it before hand. Still, this weekend when I work, I'll be making sure that is not on my list of rooms I'm seeing people in.
If find myself thinking of how it was the last day of working at my old job. How cruel they were making the last thing I had to do was open a Hospice case. Of driving to move back in with my parents for 3 months. Of that dinner, less than 2 hours after I officially "moved back home" that my dad announced that he changed his mind that he wanted to pass away at home not in a Hospice center. An hour or two later privately saying he did not think my mom could handle the minute to minute end of life decisions of medications and care. But felt that I could. He was waiting for me. At 2 am that same day, less than 8 hours after living at home, my dad collapsing on the kitchen floor and not being able to get back up without help. The downward slide of his health that Saturday but he was still basically functioning but it was clear it would not be for much longer. Officially getting Hospice services. Getting his plan in place with him. Listening to him say he didn't want be sick for any more than 3 days. On Sunday, his incessant questioning if he was going to die that day. That he did not want to die that day. It was my sister's 18th birthday, and Father's Day. He didn't want to "ruin" those days. I kept assuring him, he was close, but not that close. Monday morning, checking on him but going into start my new job so I could get benefits. How he kept telling me to go. I went. It sucked. I got benefits. The descent into Tuesday. The long night Tuesday night. Watching my sister, DB2, and DB3 realize that death was close. Watching my mom, DB1, and my dad's twin not really get how close it was. On Wednesday, realizing that if he didn't pass soon, I would no longer be able to keep him comfortable at home. Signing the transfer papers to a facility that could give him that care. The transport people coming. Me working on the final papers for him to go, my mom and DB1 in with him and the transport people coming back out and saying he had passed. The surrealism of it all.
But it happened. And we continue to live. And miss him. And I try to honor him by keeping his wish that the day that he passed, was not a day for unhappiness in the future.
I've felt him since then. The day I was figuring out my due date for Pyrope. I did it multiple times. In multiple ways (on line, calendar, and a tool that OBs use). Each time it was the same. My due date was the 1 year anniversary of his passing. How frequently Pyrope gets hiccups (from in utero to this day), my dad was plagued with horrible hiccups from his first surgery on. Pyrope never minds his. Obsidian trying to fix things. Obsidian and all of the different sounds he makes for trains (Something my dad did as well. Can you believe I know if he is pretending to be a large or small or diesel or steam or passenger or freight train that is either going in the country or the city by the type of sound Obsidian makes?)
So I just find myself thinking, and remembering. And missing him.
This year, weather permitting, the boys and I will be riding alone a bike path, then picking up the train to get back to our car. Something he would have loved (he rode to work on his bike the Thursday before he passed away and he LOVED trains). It is the bitter and the sweet.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Observations for personal use only
Recently, I was at work, in an elevator and someone asked me "So when is the little one due?"
"I'm not."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Well you know... You must get that a lot."
Um no. Please let the doors of this elevator open so I can get the heck out of here. The worst and at the same time most humorous part of the conversation was she had no idea that her last sentence was way worse than the first part of the conversation.
Then today as I was dropping off Pyrope at gymnastics camp. A mom that I used to see regularly but now don't see that often was there dropping off her daughter who is a few months older than Pyrope. Her younger daughter is 20 months old. My best friend was standing next to me, she was dropping off her older daughter and had her 2.5 year old with her.
My best friend says "E and L have really grown a lot since I've seen them last!"
I chime in "They really have."
Other mom says "It is fun to see how much kids have grown when you haven't seen them in a while. It is hard to see in your own kids. A, B, and Pyrope have really grown too. Obsidian's the same as always."
Now I understand that Obsidian who will be 3 in less than 3 weeks is smaller (as in shorter and I'm guessing lighter) than her 20 month old daughter, but I really don't like it so bluntly and vocally observed. Even less than the fact that I could lose some weight around my mid-section.
As we were leaving, the mom that made the comment went out ahead of us (as she was carrying her daughter, and Obsidian and my best friend's daughter were messing around). We were joined by another friend that we see regularly. My best friend made a comment in her not so subtle way of asking me if I was okay, repeating the comment of the other mom of how much that must hurt to hear. The other friend said before I could reply, "Now no one would make a comment like that! It is so... so..." My best friend said something along the lines of it was a direct quote made in the last 5 minutes. I just said some people don't think before they speak. This person was not trying to be mean, just making an observation.
Some observations are best kept to oneself.
"I'm not."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Well you know... You must get that a lot."
Um no. Please let the doors of this elevator open so I can get the heck out of here. The worst and at the same time most humorous part of the conversation was she had no idea that her last sentence was way worse than the first part of the conversation.
Then today as I was dropping off Pyrope at gymnastics camp. A mom that I used to see regularly but now don't see that often was there dropping off her daughter who is a few months older than Pyrope. Her younger daughter is 20 months old. My best friend was standing next to me, she was dropping off her older daughter and had her 2.5 year old with her.
My best friend says "E and L have really grown a lot since I've seen them last!"
I chime in "They really have."
Other mom says "It is fun to see how much kids have grown when you haven't seen them in a while. It is hard to see in your own kids. A, B, and Pyrope have really grown too. Obsidian's the same as always."
Now I understand that Obsidian who will be 3 in less than 3 weeks is smaller (as in shorter and I'm guessing lighter) than her 20 month old daughter, but I really don't like it so bluntly and vocally observed. Even less than the fact that I could lose some weight around my mid-section.
As we were leaving, the mom that made the comment went out ahead of us (as she was carrying her daughter, and Obsidian and my best friend's daughter were messing around). We were joined by another friend that we see regularly. My best friend made a comment in her not so subtle way of asking me if I was okay, repeating the comment of the other mom of how much that must hurt to hear. The other friend said before I could reply, "Now no one would make a comment like that! It is so... so..." My best friend said something along the lines of it was a direct quote made in the last 5 minutes. I just said some people don't think before they speak. This person was not trying to be mean, just making an observation.
Some observations are best kept to oneself.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Why this?
DB1 and I have fought since he was born. Our fights were always... different... than the arguments than the rest of the siblings had with each other. Deeper might be the best way to describe how, but that is not quite the right word. When we were younger, it was a constant thing. We would forgive each other, most of the time quickly, but there was always the next fight. From our mid-teens on, there have been periods of peace. When we are not fighting, I'm closer in many ways to DB1 than any of my other siblings. DB2 and DB3 have the closest relationship, but next to that, the next strongest bond was between DB1 and I. Although as my sister has grown up, our relationship has deepened (I think that a lot of that has to do with the fact that there is nearly 9 years between us. As we are getting older, the 9 years does not seem nearly as much as it did when we were say 1 and 10.) At any rate, rarely (as in I probably can count on both of my hands) the number of times that one of my other siblings or my parents have commented to me privately about sides in DB1 and my arguments (and those comments are a fairly close wash to if they agree with him or me). And I do not remember an argument that a family member has entered in on the disagreement. Ever.
In particular, since DB1's son has been born, he has done things that have really ticked off my family. Particularly my mother, my sister, and I. To a lesser extent DB3. DB2 is very hard to read in such matters and is very very difficult to really anger in general (but watch out if you do).
In the events leading up to Pyrope's birthday party, I was a slight sense that my mother was getting mad at DB1 over what was happening. To the point she might say something to him. From her comments at Pyrope's birthday party, I knew that something had happened that she was not telling me. As DB1 has made it very clear that he thinks this whole argument is set up by me, and my "fault", I have a feeling it will come back to me at some point. The fact Mom is not telling me only bothers me because it is very uncharacteristic of her. Very.
My sister is a list writer. I am too, but not to the extent my sister is. She is staying with Mom. On Mom's kitchen table was a list of what she wanted to do in the next 3 days (which this list was 4 days old at that point, but she was still working on checking things off.). The one item was write a letter to DB1. What? You have to keep in mind that DB1 and my mom live less than 3 miles apart.
I questioned my sister what she meant by that. She vaguely answered me that she is sure I'll find out from DB1, but she doesn't want my thoughts to influence what she says so she isn't going to talk about it until after it is given. And on top of that, she wants to be able to tell DB1 that I had absolutely nothing to do with the letter when he blames it all on me, which she says she is sure he will do. Grand.
To me, this fight with DB1 is nothing significantly different than similar fights we've had over the years. The subject is the same. Specific details are different, but not that different. More than anything else, I'm tired of the cycle.
What is different is that there are kids involved. Sometimes when my sister, DB2, and DB3 were little, I guess you could have said the same thing, as similar arguments happened then, but is somehow different when it is siblings.
And I have to qualify the "kids". While it is elevating the argument that it was Pyrope's birthday party that this started over (keeping in mind, that that was mainly an argument between my mother and I, and if DB1 had not sent me an email that was tangential to him not coming, everything would have ended there), my kids are not why my mother and sister are entering in. Or that DB3 has begun to make comments about the situation. It is DB1's son. A child that does not recognize a single member of my immediate family. It is the fact that they have chosen to not include us in their and his life but when we do have contact say that we should do more together. Then if/when we reach out to them, we get silence or a rebuff in return.
It has entered my mind that my sister may be trying to be a mediator. I'm praying she is. At one point, DB1's wife felt a bond with my sister that she never did with the rest of us. I haven't seen signs of it in years. But I hope it is there. I hope my sister is trying to tap into it. The realistic side of me says no. If my sister was trying to mediate, she would find a way to go over and see DB1 and SIL and talk. If sister was in a mediating or neutral mood, I would not be hearing volume of the snide comments I'm hearing her make. I doubt she would be so careful in what she is saying to me. I would think she would be encouraging me to make a peace offering. Or at a minimum trying to warm me up to the idea of some sort of peace. Typically, me offering some olive branch is how very large blow ups end. Generally one of my parents, or less frequently a sibling, comes to me and asks me to make a peace offering. And I do. I have said I'm done. And I'm guessing they sense that when I'm saying it this time, it is different than when I've said it in the past. But I have said it in the past and relented.
I'm praying that Pyrope does not put all of the pieces together that this portion of the fight erupted over his birthday party. The reality of it is that it really has very little to do with his party. It started long before. In some ways, I wish when he asked to send his cousin an invitation to his birthday party I told him no. Or I addressed it to my mom. But I let him choose. And it was sent. And everything that happened did.
Above all, I'm praying for the passage of some time. Which will come, in time. I just want to move on to the next phase. Whether it be working on a relationship with DB1 and his family, or moving our separate ways. Knowing if my mother and siblings will have a relationship with his family and I will not, or my children and I will not. Currently, the ball is not in my control. It is not time for it to be in my control. I need let my mother and sister make their moves. I'm very used to it being my decision what to do next. Right now when I sit and am quiet, and pray, I hear a resounding "Be still. This is not your time to speak. Wait." It is harder to wait than it is to do.
In particular, since DB1's son has been born, he has done things that have really ticked off my family. Particularly my mother, my sister, and I. To a lesser extent DB3. DB2 is very hard to read in such matters and is very very difficult to really anger in general (but watch out if you do).
In the events leading up to Pyrope's birthday party, I was a slight sense that my mother was getting mad at DB1 over what was happening. To the point she might say something to him. From her comments at Pyrope's birthday party, I knew that something had happened that she was not telling me. As DB1 has made it very clear that he thinks this whole argument is set up by me, and my "fault", I have a feeling it will come back to me at some point. The fact Mom is not telling me only bothers me because it is very uncharacteristic of her. Very.
My sister is a list writer. I am too, but not to the extent my sister is. She is staying with Mom. On Mom's kitchen table was a list of what she wanted to do in the next 3 days (which this list was 4 days old at that point, but she was still working on checking things off.). The one item was write a letter to DB1. What? You have to keep in mind that DB1 and my mom live less than 3 miles apart.
I questioned my sister what she meant by that. She vaguely answered me that she is sure I'll find out from DB1, but she doesn't want my thoughts to influence what she says so she isn't going to talk about it until after it is given. And on top of that, she wants to be able to tell DB1 that I had absolutely nothing to do with the letter when he blames it all on me, which she says she is sure he will do. Grand.
To me, this fight with DB1 is nothing significantly different than similar fights we've had over the years. The subject is the same. Specific details are different, but not that different. More than anything else, I'm tired of the cycle.
What is different is that there are kids involved. Sometimes when my sister, DB2, and DB3 were little, I guess you could have said the same thing, as similar arguments happened then, but is somehow different when it is siblings.
And I have to qualify the "kids". While it is elevating the argument that it was Pyrope's birthday party that this started over (keeping in mind, that that was mainly an argument between my mother and I, and if DB1 had not sent me an email that was tangential to him not coming, everything would have ended there), my kids are not why my mother and sister are entering in. Or that DB3 has begun to make comments about the situation. It is DB1's son. A child that does not recognize a single member of my immediate family. It is the fact that they have chosen to not include us in their and his life but when we do have contact say that we should do more together. Then if/when we reach out to them, we get silence or a rebuff in return.
It has entered my mind that my sister may be trying to be a mediator. I'm praying she is. At one point, DB1's wife felt a bond with my sister that she never did with the rest of us. I haven't seen signs of it in years. But I hope it is there. I hope my sister is trying to tap into it. The realistic side of me says no. If my sister was trying to mediate, she would find a way to go over and see DB1 and SIL and talk. If sister was in a mediating or neutral mood, I would not be hearing volume of the snide comments I'm hearing her make. I doubt she would be so careful in what she is saying to me. I would think she would be encouraging me to make a peace offering. Or at a minimum trying to warm me up to the idea of some sort of peace. Typically, me offering some olive branch is how very large blow ups end. Generally one of my parents, or less frequently a sibling, comes to me and asks me to make a peace offering. And I do. I have said I'm done. And I'm guessing they sense that when I'm saying it this time, it is different than when I've said it in the past. But I have said it in the past and relented.
I'm praying that Pyrope does not put all of the pieces together that this portion of the fight erupted over his birthday party. The reality of it is that it really has very little to do with his party. It started long before. In some ways, I wish when he asked to send his cousin an invitation to his birthday party I told him no. Or I addressed it to my mom. But I let him choose. And it was sent. And everything that happened did.
Above all, I'm praying for the passage of some time. Which will come, in time. I just want to move on to the next phase. Whether it be working on a relationship with DB1 and his family, or moving our separate ways. Knowing if my mother and siblings will have a relationship with his family and I will not, or my children and I will not. Currently, the ball is not in my control. It is not time for it to be in my control. I need let my mother and sister make their moves. I'm very used to it being my decision what to do next. Right now when I sit and am quiet, and pray, I hear a resounding "Be still. This is not your time to speak. Wait." It is harder to wait than it is to do.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Better than Christmas
This spring I started using this book, Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, with Pyrope. Tomorrow we will finish lesson 60. While the directions for teaching the lessons are clear, I would not say that they have been "easy" for Pyrope to learn. He eventually gets what is being taught, but it has not been easy. For a while, it was both of our most dread portion of the day. It has got significantly better. Tears are no longer a daily occurrence with each lesson. And it has been a long time since I've had to put him in time out if he refused to participate.
However, the gains he has made have been incredible since he started. Everyone has noticed. He is legitimately reading now. When I started this, I thought there was no way that he would be reading at a "solid 2nd grade level" by the time he finished as the introduction said he would. Now, I'm thinking he will be. Or will be darn close to it.
It started a few weeks ago, but Pyrope started to put together that reading is a way to convey information to people. In the last couple of days, he has started to grasp the extent of it. And is in awe.
As he was going to bed, he looked at the window fan. Obsidian was with him, and I was in the bathroom, listening:
"Listen Obsidian. I will sound this out. ooooo-fffff. Off. Lllllll-ooooo-wwwwww. Low. Hhhhhh-ooooo. No, not right. Hhhhhh-iiiiii (short i sound). I try again Obsidian. Hhhhh-iiiiii. Hi." pause "Obsidian! These words tell you what the fan will do!!!! Let's try!!" Squeals of delight ensued when the fan did what the switch said. "Mommy! Come fast! Look! You can read what it will do!!!"
When he got his new scooter for his birthday, very soon after getting it he questioned Jet.
"Daddy, did you put this together?"
"Yes."
"Did it come with instructions to read?" said with wonder and awe in his voice.
At the zoo:
"Mommy! Look! Menus! Read them to me! They have too many words that are too long for me to sound out. I think the menus will tell me about the animals." (He meant signs. He never has been interested in them before, so I think "menu" was just the word he found that was most appropriate.)
At a restaurant:
"Daddy, why do they have so many words for each thing? There are more words than they are? Why?" (Looking at the description of each item on the menu)
Incidents like this are repeated over and over thoughout the day. Each time, a joy and awe is there when the message is discovered. There are written words, some of which he can figure out on his own, that are all around him. Telling him things.
While he is beginning to grasp the power of the written word, it is just the tip of the ice burg. I love reading. I have always hoped to pass that on to my children. Pyrope would sit and listen to me read, and generally be content if not happy. But he never really engaged. He wouldn't look at the pictures and tell me a story. He rarely was able to answer simple questions about the story. Rarely, if ever, was he able to come up with some prediction of what was going to happen next in a story. I was concerned but knew there was nothing I could do other than keep reading to him, and have him see me read for my pleasure (and information). I hope that he continues to discover just how powerful reading and writing can be.
Now I love watching my kids experiencing new things. To catch a glimpse of the magic that I no longer see. Or have no longer been seeing. I love watching kids (mine and in general) experience things like Christmas.
Watching Pyrope discover the power and magic of reading, it is far better. While it is taking me longer, sometimes significantly longer, to do everything right now (from turning on a fan, to draining the tub (did you know that above where the lever is for draining the tub a word is stamped in the metal? I didn't until I had to help sound it out.), to shopping, to walking around the zoo, I will gladly do it. He has started to read himself, Obsidian, or his toys books. Sometimes reading the words, other times by looking at the pictures.
To see Pyrope discover reading is awesome. This magic does not seem to grow old for me.
However, the gains he has made have been incredible since he started. Everyone has noticed. He is legitimately reading now. When I started this, I thought there was no way that he would be reading at a "solid 2nd grade level" by the time he finished as the introduction said he would. Now, I'm thinking he will be. Or will be darn close to it.
It started a few weeks ago, but Pyrope started to put together that reading is a way to convey information to people. In the last couple of days, he has started to grasp the extent of it. And is in awe.
As he was going to bed, he looked at the window fan. Obsidian was with him, and I was in the bathroom, listening:
"Listen Obsidian. I will sound this out. ooooo-fffff. Off. Lllllll-ooooo-wwwwww. Low. Hhhhhh-ooooo. No, not right. Hhhhhh-iiiiii (short i sound). I try again Obsidian. Hhhhh-iiiiii. Hi." pause "Obsidian! These words tell you what the fan will do!!!! Let's try!!" Squeals of delight ensued when the fan did what the switch said. "Mommy! Come fast! Look! You can read what it will do!!!"
When he got his new scooter for his birthday, very soon after getting it he questioned Jet.
"Daddy, did you put this together?"
"Yes."
"Did it come with instructions to read?" said with wonder and awe in his voice.
At the zoo:
"Mommy! Look! Menus! Read them to me! They have too many words that are too long for me to sound out. I think the menus will tell me about the animals." (He meant signs. He never has been interested in them before, so I think "menu" was just the word he found that was most appropriate.)
At a restaurant:
"Daddy, why do they have so many words for each thing? There are more words than they are? Why?" (Looking at the description of each item on the menu)
Incidents like this are repeated over and over thoughout the day. Each time, a joy and awe is there when the message is discovered. There are written words, some of which he can figure out on his own, that are all around him. Telling him things.
While he is beginning to grasp the power of the written word, it is just the tip of the ice burg. I love reading. I have always hoped to pass that on to my children. Pyrope would sit and listen to me read, and generally be content if not happy. But he never really engaged. He wouldn't look at the pictures and tell me a story. He rarely was able to answer simple questions about the story. Rarely, if ever, was he able to come up with some prediction of what was going to happen next in a story. I was concerned but knew there was nothing I could do other than keep reading to him, and have him see me read for my pleasure (and information). I hope that he continues to discover just how powerful reading and writing can be.
Now I love watching my kids experiencing new things. To catch a glimpse of the magic that I no longer see. Or have no longer been seeing. I love watching kids (mine and in general) experience things like Christmas.
Watching Pyrope discover the power and magic of reading, it is far better. While it is taking me longer, sometimes significantly longer, to do everything right now (from turning on a fan, to draining the tub (did you know that above where the lever is for draining the tub a word is stamped in the metal? I didn't until I had to help sound it out.), to shopping, to walking around the zoo, I will gladly do it. He has started to read himself, Obsidian, or his toys books. Sometimes reading the words, other times by looking at the pictures.
To see Pyrope discover reading is awesome. This magic does not seem to grow old for me.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Blood
There is this funny thing in life. You choose your friends but not your family. Which is good an bad. For the most part, friends seem to come and go with the seasons of my life. With a few major exceptions. And those people I consider more of family than anything else. Friends seem to (for the most part) naturally drift in and out of my life. On a rare occasion, they will leave my life with a big scene. After that, either by my choice or by theirs, they are gone. For the most part, all of these people I call friends, close friends, have something in common with me.
And then there is family. Ah, family. What a complicated thing it is. We do not choose them. They are a group we are born or adopted into. Family is something (except in rare extreme cases) that does not go away. Even if we feel "done" with the relationship. Or really don't want to continue with it. Yes, I know you can completely cut ties. But it is different, harder than cutting ties with friends. Even very close friends. Even if you do not have much in common, there is still a bond that somehow lasts longer than most other relationships.
Pyrope's birthday party was this weekend. It was a saga getting to it. By all stretches of the imagination and reality. Fortunately, Pyrope was mainly unaware of the negative drama.
My mother choose the date of the party. Long story why she choose the date she did. But after it was chosen, the days surrounding it got blocked in, and it was the only date possible to have the party. Then for motives I only really have conjectures of (abet strong ones that my best friend agrees are probably fairly accurate), my mother decided to go to the baby shower of my cousin's wife instead of Pyrope's birthday party. It turned into a huge argument between me and my mother. (The short of it is that she had chosen the date of the party, Pyrope really wanted her to be there, and she could have gone to a birthday party on Saturday and seen the same part of the family.) We argued for a long time (as in since April when the invitation for the shower got to her and she started "thinking" about it) over what she was going to do. After my brother (DB1) said he would go with her, she was going to do it. I was ticked. I argued my point. She said no. Fine. I was ticked and I told her so, but she is an adult and makes her own decisions. So then, a little over a week before the said date, I get an unfriendly email from DB1. Now if I have a problem with a person, I try to go and see them (particularly when they live as close as we do). If that doesn't work, I call them on the phone. Really, an email? (The fact that DB1 told me what he did in the form of an email is what ticked DB3 off at him.) Now I was ticked at my mom, but nothing I wouldn't get over. It would be a sore subject, but not a huge deal in the overall picture of our relationship. The email from DB1 on the other hand was a lot more than ticking me off. (Among other things, he called me a bully for trying to convince Mom that she should come to her grandson's birthday party, that I have bizarre behavior he just tries to ignore but I keep contacting him (um, but then he says how he wants to spend time with me. Riddle me how I'm going to spend time with him when he doesn't want me to contact him, he doesn't contact me, and he doesn't want me to just show up at his house unannounced. As almost a side note, he said how he really would like to come to Pyrope's birthday party, but because of baby shower he can't.) I emailed him back (a VERY edited version of what I originally wrote). I went over to my mom's house. I told her my extreme anger at DB1 over the email and the whole situation (I wasn't expecting any sort of reply from DB1, not even a "we can't come". Although I'm always harping at him that when someone invites you over, it is nice to call before the event starts to tell them if you are running late and will be there, or are not coming. His other alternatives is to not call at all, or call several weeks after the event). My mom stated she was sorry that DB1 is being such a pain (she had been saying that we were both acting like children and wished this feud would be over... however during this whole thing, I kept including her in on the emails that were being sent, and she was getting irritated as well) but she was still going to the baby shower. DB1's wife calls a family meeting, including calling my sister who comes up (she lives about 90 miles away) for that evening. She also states how she really wishes they could come to Pyrope's birthday party. They really want to spend time with us. I was so angry, I was not going to start the conversation at the family meeting/picnic. So all of us came. She (or DB1) didn't bring anything up. I didn't as I was still so ticked I was afraid I would run my mouth more than I care to in front my children (and nephew, which it was the first time I've really seen him since Christmas). As a follow up, a peace offering of sorts, I emailed DB1 a couple of things we were/are doing that he could join us. Including one event that he suggested we just cancel because it would be a good time for them to come to Pyrope's party. No email back. No phone call. Didn't show up at the event.
So the plan (as far as I knew) was to be Mom, DB1, nephew, DB1 wife, and my sister were to be at baby shower. DB2 and DB3 at Pyrope's birthday party. People start coming to Pyrope's birthday party early. Like 40 minutes early for the first family (that includes Pyrope's best friend, and mine so that wasn't bad) and 30 minutes early for the second. I'm trying to get things done that I thought I would get done before people showed up while trying to start to host. Yeah. The phone rings. It is my mother.
"Uh, hi Mom."
"So when is Pyrope's birthday party starting?"
"What?"
"I don't remember when it starts."
"3. But people are already here."
"Okay I'll be there in 10 or 15 minutes...... if that is okay with you."
"What? Where are you? Did you go to the shower?"
"I'm at my house. We didn't go."
"None of you went."
"None of us went. Can I come?"
"Sure." pause "Wait. Who exactly is coming?" Me thinking to myself. So okay, guests are here way early. And I potentially have 4 adults and a kid coming that I didn't plan on. Extra hot dogs will save the day I guess if need be.
"Just me for now. DB3 and sister are putting in my new retaining wall and it isn't going well. I'll be over soon."
I go back to my best friend and tell her my mom is coming. Pyrope does a happy dance that "Grandma IS coming!!!! Yea!!!!" My friend as several "What?" and "Why" questions I have no idea to answer. I tell her to ask my mother if she feels like it because I certainly am not at this point.
Immediately after my mom gets there, I ask if DB1 knows he is still invited. She answers shortly that yes, she called him after she got off the phone with me and he knows he can come. I asked if he said if he was coming. She gave some non-answer. Later when I had recovered more from everything, I asked again and then asked what DB1 said. She said I didn't want to know. She didn't think he was coming. (DB2 was throwing up and had a fever so he stayed away, DB3 and sister had issues with the wall and didn't make it either. Earlier DB3 and sister assured me that the whole project would take less than 2 hours. Most likely less than an hour. I laughed and said it was going to be a day project, at least. Guess who was right.)
The story comes out as far as the shower and DB1 is concerned. Or part of it. My mother flat out refuses to tell me all of it as "it would just make you angry". Too late.
DB1's wife decided she couldn't go to the shower the day before it was to happen. She is working that night. It would make for too long of a day. Since DB1, wife, and nephew (mainly nephew if you ask me) were not going to shower, Mom makes the decision to come to Pyrope's birthday party instead. Now if DB1 was planning on being at the shower at the same time as Pyrope's birthday party, and the birthday party was as important to him as he and wife said, why on earth did they not come? We are not the 4 hour each direction drive that the shower was. Even if DB1wife had to be at work, they could drive separately. Or just DB1 and nephew come (just Jet and my kids went to nephew's party, as he gave me 3 day notice of when the party was and I was working that weekend. I came for the last small portion of it).
I've said that I'm done with DB1. And after this, I'm even more done. If he was a friend, he would simply drop off of my radar. But he is blood. Family. So, at some point, I'm sure he'll make contact. And I'll be nice.
Hopefully by then, I will be thinking more about the things I do like about him (which there are some). That the traits that drive me nuts will somehow fade again. But really, if I had a choice, I would be done. For good. I wouldn't harbor anger at him, and I'm sure I would be friendly if we accidentally crossed paths. But he would not be an active part of my life. Or my children's.
Blood ties are strong.
And then there is family. Ah, family. What a complicated thing it is. We do not choose them. They are a group we are born or adopted into. Family is something (except in rare extreme cases) that does not go away. Even if we feel "done" with the relationship. Or really don't want to continue with it. Yes, I know you can completely cut ties. But it is different, harder than cutting ties with friends. Even very close friends. Even if you do not have much in common, there is still a bond that somehow lasts longer than most other relationships.
Pyrope's birthday party was this weekend. It was a saga getting to it. By all stretches of the imagination and reality. Fortunately, Pyrope was mainly unaware of the negative drama.
My mother choose the date of the party. Long story why she choose the date she did. But after it was chosen, the days surrounding it got blocked in, and it was the only date possible to have the party. Then for motives I only really have conjectures of (abet strong ones that my best friend agrees are probably fairly accurate), my mother decided to go to the baby shower of my cousin's wife instead of Pyrope's birthday party. It turned into a huge argument between me and my mother. (The short of it is that she had chosen the date of the party, Pyrope really wanted her to be there, and she could have gone to a birthday party on Saturday and seen the same part of the family.) We argued for a long time (as in since April when the invitation for the shower got to her and she started "thinking" about it) over what she was going to do. After my brother (DB1) said he would go with her, she was going to do it. I was ticked. I argued my point. She said no. Fine. I was ticked and I told her so, but she is an adult and makes her own decisions. So then, a little over a week before the said date, I get an unfriendly email from DB1. Now if I have a problem with a person, I try to go and see them (particularly when they live as close as we do). If that doesn't work, I call them on the phone. Really, an email? (The fact that DB1 told me what he did in the form of an email is what ticked DB3 off at him.) Now I was ticked at my mom, but nothing I wouldn't get over. It would be a sore subject, but not a huge deal in the overall picture of our relationship. The email from DB1 on the other hand was a lot more than ticking me off. (Among other things, he called me a bully for trying to convince Mom that she should come to her grandson's birthday party, that I have bizarre behavior he just tries to ignore but I keep contacting him (um, but then he says how he wants to spend time with me. Riddle me how I'm going to spend time with him when he doesn't want me to contact him, he doesn't contact me, and he doesn't want me to just show up at his house unannounced. As almost a side note, he said how he really would like to come to Pyrope's birthday party, but because of baby shower he can't.) I emailed him back (a VERY edited version of what I originally wrote). I went over to my mom's house. I told her my extreme anger at DB1 over the email and the whole situation (I wasn't expecting any sort of reply from DB1, not even a "we can't come". Although I'm always harping at him that when someone invites you over, it is nice to call before the event starts to tell them if you are running late and will be there, or are not coming. His other alternatives is to not call at all, or call several weeks after the event). My mom stated she was sorry that DB1 is being such a pain (she had been saying that we were both acting like children and wished this feud would be over... however during this whole thing, I kept including her in on the emails that were being sent, and she was getting irritated as well) but she was still going to the baby shower. DB1's wife calls a family meeting, including calling my sister who comes up (she lives about 90 miles away) for that evening. She also states how she really wishes they could come to Pyrope's birthday party. They really want to spend time with us. I was so angry, I was not going to start the conversation at the family meeting/picnic. So all of us came. She (or DB1) didn't bring anything up. I didn't as I was still so ticked I was afraid I would run my mouth more than I care to in front my children (and nephew, which it was the first time I've really seen him since Christmas). As a follow up, a peace offering of sorts, I emailed DB1 a couple of things we were/are doing that he could join us. Including one event that he suggested we just cancel because it would be a good time for them to come to Pyrope's party. No email back. No phone call. Didn't show up at the event.
So the plan (as far as I knew) was to be Mom, DB1, nephew, DB1 wife, and my sister were to be at baby shower. DB2 and DB3 at Pyrope's birthday party. People start coming to Pyrope's birthday party early. Like 40 minutes early for the first family (that includes Pyrope's best friend, and mine so that wasn't bad) and 30 minutes early for the second. I'm trying to get things done that I thought I would get done before people showed up while trying to start to host. Yeah. The phone rings. It is my mother.
"Uh, hi Mom."
"So when is Pyrope's birthday party starting?"
"What?"
"I don't remember when it starts."
"3. But people are already here."
"Okay I'll be there in 10 or 15 minutes...... if that is okay with you."
"What? Where are you? Did you go to the shower?"
"I'm at my house. We didn't go."
"None of you went."
"None of us went. Can I come?"
"Sure." pause "Wait. Who exactly is coming?" Me thinking to myself. So okay, guests are here way early. And I potentially have 4 adults and a kid coming that I didn't plan on. Extra hot dogs will save the day I guess if need be.
"Just me for now. DB3 and sister are putting in my new retaining wall and it isn't going well. I'll be over soon."
I go back to my best friend and tell her my mom is coming. Pyrope does a happy dance that "Grandma IS coming!!!! Yea!!!!" My friend as several "What?" and "Why" questions I have no idea to answer. I tell her to ask my mother if she feels like it because I certainly am not at this point.
Immediately after my mom gets there, I ask if DB1 knows he is still invited. She answers shortly that yes, she called him after she got off the phone with me and he knows he can come. I asked if he said if he was coming. She gave some non-answer. Later when I had recovered more from everything, I asked again and then asked what DB1 said. She said I didn't want to know. She didn't think he was coming. (DB2 was throwing up and had a fever so he stayed away, DB3 and sister had issues with the wall and didn't make it either. Earlier DB3 and sister assured me that the whole project would take less than 2 hours. Most likely less than an hour. I laughed and said it was going to be a day project, at least. Guess who was right.)
The story comes out as far as the shower and DB1 is concerned. Or part of it. My mother flat out refuses to tell me all of it as "it would just make you angry". Too late.
DB1's wife decided she couldn't go to the shower the day before it was to happen. She is working that night. It would make for too long of a day. Since DB1, wife, and nephew (mainly nephew if you ask me) were not going to shower, Mom makes the decision to come to Pyrope's birthday party instead. Now if DB1 was planning on being at the shower at the same time as Pyrope's birthday party, and the birthday party was as important to him as he and wife said, why on earth did they not come? We are not the 4 hour each direction drive that the shower was. Even if DB1wife had to be at work, they could drive separately. Or just DB1 and nephew come (just Jet and my kids went to nephew's party, as he gave me 3 day notice of when the party was and I was working that weekend. I came for the last small portion of it).
I've said that I'm done with DB1. And after this, I'm even more done. If he was a friend, he would simply drop off of my radar. But he is blood. Family. So, at some point, I'm sure he'll make contact. And I'll be nice.
Hopefully by then, I will be thinking more about the things I do like about him (which there are some). That the traits that drive me nuts will somehow fade again. But really, if I had a choice, I would be done. For good. I wouldn't harbor anger at him, and I'm sure I would be friendly if we accidentally crossed paths. But he would not be an active part of my life. Or my children's.
Blood ties are strong.
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