Not-so-traditional

Today (June 8th) is my Mom’s birthday… or would’ve been my Mom’s birthday. Um, how do you say that after a person has died?

Well, anyway… for Mom’s birthday weekend I decided to go somewhere I’ve never been before.

Marti came with me for some supportive hand-holding and to make sure I didn’t pass out. I left this place with one of these:

Yeah, a tattoo. A white ink tattoo so that it doesn’t scream out at people while at work or other professional gatherings. Plus – it’s truly just for me, so as long as I know it’s there then I’m happy. They tried to talk me out of getting it done in white ink – but it’s exactly what I was looking for.

My Dad gave Mom a gold ankh charm for their wedding day. It’s the one thing I remember her wearing the most while I was growing up. I thought it was fitting for me to have this symbol of “everlasting life” on my wrist reminding me of her…the woman who gave me life. It’s on my left wrist – Mom & I were the only two lefties in the family.

The pink “glow” from the tattoo is my super-sensitive and still healing skin. And yeah, it hurt like a mother-trucker. Mom got a tattoo when she turned 50 – I couldn’t believe it and tried to scrape it off of her shoulder. She said, “It’s not coming off, Jen.”

For the record, I didn’t pass out…. I may have had to put my head between my knees for a second or two, but I did not pass out.

On Sunday, me & my sisters went to the cemetery to bring Mom some flowers and visit for a while. Great plan – my little one even came with me. But there was one little problem… we forgot the flowers.

We thought for sure we’d see a place once we got off the interstate, but we forgot that the cemetery is in the middle of the COUNTRY and there was nary a florist nor a grocery store to be seen.

(Yeah, I said ‘nary’ – what of it?)

Knowing our Mom as well as we do… I mean, this is the woman who would pick flowers and plants from other peoples’ lawns without batting an eyelash.  And somehow when I got my own place, I was given a full set of steak knives from that well-known Australian steakhouse and lots and lots of sweet-n-low packets.

We saw some pretty flowers on the side of the road and brought those to her. I think she would have liked them.

Happy Birthday Mom.

Dear Mom

Today we drove about 20 minutes north to a place where you can see the Blue Ridge Mountains and a lovely river. The sun was shining (finally) and the sky was blue. I don’t remember seeing any clouds.  It was an amazingly beautiful day – so completely opposite of the past few days.

I drove with Dad in the front seat and Jamie and Jillian in back. Dad was pointing his directions to me (even though I live here and he doesn’t – don’t worry, I didn’t argue with him, I took lots of deep breaths).

We found ourselves on a very winding road that went over the river and gave us lovely views. We drove until we saw our last name on a sign that told us we needed to be in  Lane Number Two. As we waited for someone to take us to the assigned place, the cars in Lane Number One kept adding up.

Our lane was empty except for us – but that’s okay, its how we wanted it.  Our host’s name was Caroline and she was very sweet. She drives a long way each day to get to work, but says that she loves her job.

When we got to the pavilion there were flowers everywhere… but they were there by mistake. We waited while some other guy picked them up (clumsily) and brought them to his van. He had to make a few trips.

Dad laid everything out on a stand (covered with indoor/outdoor carpet) which was standing underneath the seals of each of the armed forces. He put your urn on top of the latest issue of People magazine, just like he did a year ago. We put pictures around you – of all of us together – all the kids, a small Statue of Liberty (we both love the same statue, you know), a copy of the poem that was read at your memorial, trinkets you had with you at the hospital, and pennies that Dad has collected for a year – each one a sign from you to him.  It was a lot of stuff! It reminded me of Dad’s computer desk… lots of trinkets and things around, but I guess you’re used to that.

Dad had me take pictures of this little set-up. I wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t ask me to. I felt a little strange, but I guess that’s okay. Jamie took some close-up shots. She started crying and Caroline asked her if she was the middle child. How did she know?

Jillian kept it cool – like she always does – and I stayed pretty detached, more concerned with how Jamie and Jillian were doing. Dad said a few words – which made us feel awkward – okay, it made me feel awkward for sure, I don’t know about them… but, you know how he is.

It was cold in the shade and Jamie was shivering. (she didn’t bring a sweater) We sat for a few minutes and then Caroline came back. She explained what was going to happen next.

We picked up your urn, the pictures, and all the other little things and walked over to the cambriolas (I think that’s what they’re called). We found your spot (on the top) and put the stuff and you in there. I’m not sure there’s going to be enough room for Dad, but we’ll figure that out later.

Dad told me to take another picture – so I did… then two guys put the temporary marble covering over your place. There’s a plastic tag there now with your name on it, but soon it will be engraved.  Caroline said it would take six weeks.

We said good-bye to you again and that sucked. We read a lot of the other peoples’ cambriola plackards – some were very creative – and we decided what yours was going to say. I think you’d be happy with it.

We drove back into town and went to lunch at Moe’s. Jamie, Jillian and I went to Moe’s on the anniversary of the day you died. Weird tradition, huh? Death and burritos. (but we like the burritos & the green chili salsa)

Being together is good, but sad. There’s a huge piece missing each time - more noticeable when Dad is around.

We miss you. 

I miss you.

I’m sorry there weren’t any flowers for you. We didn’t know what to expect. I will bring some daisies for you next time, I promise.

Love,

jen

One year ago.

We miss you, Mom.

Sexual Harassment and Mom-Envy

Last week at work seriously kicked my ass. Big time. You know that kind of HR week where the unemployment officer on the appeal hearing conference call practically offers to drive the ex-employee to the EEOC. (and the ex-employee has no reason to go to there at all)

What? You’ve never had one of those weeks?

Every time I think I have a handle on things at the hotel, all of a sudden I have a couple of management resignations and a sexual harassment investigation in my lap. (and no, my lap is not the reason for the latter)

One day this week shortly after my eleventh hour of meetings all due to associate relations issues, I had to tell a supervisor to please have that “tough” conversation with the associate somewhere else because I had to go home.

Hey, I said ‘please’.

My assistant said, “Wow, you sounded like a Director when you said that.” (damn – it only took me five years)

So maybe it was all the super-fantastic-fun of the work week that made me the weepy daughter-in-law this weekend. Who knows?

All I know is that after I looked through the photo album for my husband’s fortieth birthday and came across photos of my Mom I could not. stop. crying.

Now it’s Sunday night and I’m about to start another week at work. I’m trying to be positive and think that maybe this week will be better. Sounds good, right?  

Yeah.  After a couple of phone calls from the hotel this weekend, I’m not feeling super-confident.

I’m going to try for a good night’s sleep (ha!) and maybe a renewed sense of positivity for the upcoming week.

Happy Monday y’all!

Her First Birthday Without Us

 

Picture taken Thanksgiving – 2006

Today my Mom would’ve been 58 years old. I wonder if they celebrate birthdays in Heaven.

Hmmm…Maybe there’s no reason to take note of such Earthly frivolities. Do you think that maybe they celebrate the day you joined the angels instead?

To those of us left behind, we’re remembering birthdays past & wishing we could have one more celebration with her.

The end of a long weekend.

At the end of the weekend I start to think about what the next day at work will be like. For some reason, I’m starting to get anxious and I have no idea why. I will say that I’ve been having that feeling of anxiety more and more often latey… not sure what to attribute that to. And that means that there are SO many things to attribute it to I can’t pick just one.

Anywho… it was a nice weekend. I’m sad that its ending. My sister Jamie was here with her brood Wednesday – Saturday & that was fun. Then Saturday my SIL’s kids spent the night. I thought that maybe we turned the house into a daycare until yesterday morning when it was relatively quiet again. (quiet as in only my own kids were yelling at each other)

A lot of the weekend was spent in here – at the kitchen table:

I did do some scrapping. Like, a teensy bit. Nothing I’m overly excited about. Blah.

Here are a couple of things I did a few weeks ago but never posted:

I thought it was a cool and really unique idea – until I saw other ones posted on other sites. Darn it. I guess we can’t always be inventive. Oh well. It matches my kitchen – so that’s where its staying for now.

I also did this:

Here’s a close-up:

I had to do it and then put it right in the album. I love looking at it – but it hurts to look at it all at the same time. It brings back all sorts of images and sounds and heartache.

Yeesh – way to bring a blog down, Jen.

Okay, how about something a bit cheerier?

There, that’s better.

I want to call my Mom.

And I want to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. I’m sad today, but I’m trying hard not to be. The family is being very sweet with homemade cards and some very thoughtful gifts. (like this)

Cute, right? Even my husband picked out some scrappy stuff - which he rarely does. (because he knows how particular I am)

I opted for a quiet weekend with the fam. No celebrating – just some quiet and introspective time for me. (which is always a ton of laughs for everyone else – coughnotcough) 

I did get out for a bit yesterday. I went to a few shops including a ginormous thrift store where I picked up this loot for whopping $7.00.

All items are for the guest scrap room.

I called the kids in to see the typewriter and my son says, “What is that?” I explained that this is what we used before computers… you know, back in the “old days” where we lived in caves and ran from dinosaurs.

Pardon me while I take a sip of Geritol. Has anyone seen my teeth?

I wish all my lovely girls a Happy Mom’s Day. You all help me & inspire me every day to be a better Mom. (the roses are for you!)

Mom… I love you and miss you. So much. xoxo

Even Sprint doesn’t work in Heaven.

The other day on the drive home, I was thinking about my Mom & wanted to give her a call. That’s what I would’ve done any other time. A quick chat, a check-in, a “how and where are you” kind of call. And then I remembered that I couldn’t call her. My next thought was, “Maybe I could send her a text message?”

Then I realized I couldn’t do that either.

It was weird how my mind knew that I couldn’t call her – obviously – but a text message seemed perfectly reasonable. You can see that there are some synapses with extra time on their hands. Or maybe my brain was giving me a break from the constant heartache and made me forget, just for a moment, that I’ll never be able to talk to her again.

Either way, it makes me so sad.

My Cup Runneth Over With Love

It’s really amazing to me to be experiencing such kindness & thoughtfulness from so many people during such a sad time. I’ve been getting phone calls, emails, cards, and comments here on ths blog. I’m overwhelmed.

Even when my blog is read but there is no comment - knowing that maybe someone read a post about my Mom and thought about her for even a small moment is a comfort to me.

Another thing that Judson Laipply said last week was that everyone needed to take the time to tell someone that you are so glad they are in your life.

So, thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being there.

Speaking of thanks… I received some mail love yesterday & Oh. My. Goodness. I have such talented friends. Julie made this for me & I’m still marveling at it’s loveliness.

Jules asked me to let her know where I put it in our house. Well, it started here in the dining room:

I did take a close-up shot of some of it:

Look at all that detail! That’s LOVE people! WOWZA.

I decided that it needed a different place to hang… and I think I found that perfect place:

The fireplace. Perfect. (my mantle is still a work in progress – we’re still unpacking, you know)

Dad left this morning and I’m sad. It’s never easy having guests in your house (coughcoastercough) but I felt like my Mom was with him while he was here. Now I’m missing her more too.

Oh – Happy Easter!

By the way… the title of my post came from a song I heard on the Broadway Channel on Sirius. (stop rolling your eyes at me)

House Guest

My Dad drove up a couple of days ago & is spending some time with us. I am so happy about that. I am very lucky to have the extra space in our lovely new house so that he can have his own bedroom and bathroom. His visit is very bittersweet – it had been planned for a while now… he & my Mom would come up to see the new house.

Dad is camped out in the guest room, which is also my scrap room. He brought down a bed – it was purchased when my Mom couldn’t make it up the stairs at their house. He brought it to us so that we have an extra place for people to sleep. Sleep in it? I’m sure that it will be covered in letter stickers and patterned paper very soon.

He brought his laptop too, of course. He doesn’t go anywhere without that. Anywhere. One of the first things he asked about when he arrived was how to connect to our internet wirelessly. Um, we’re not that sophisticated. We use the old-fashioned DSL line to our non-laptop home computer.

He had to run the phone line (which is soooo 2006) from our computer to his computer – or something like that. All I know is that he’s able to access the internet and we’re all very happy about it. Thank goodness that’s fixed, for now. He’s still determined to get us wireless; apparently we need a new modem or something.

Yesterday he went out and bought sheets for our new bed & I went into my scraproom  the guest room to see them. I notice that he put his laptop on my scrapdesk… okay, that’s fine, I guess. That must mean that he’s enjoying the new comfy birthday present desk chair that Chris and the kids got me. I haven’t even sat in it yet… but, all right, it’s my Dad, and he’s our guest.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who might be a teensy-bit overprotective over her stuff… her scrap stuff. The kids know it. The husband knows it. Dad? Not so much.

So – I notice a glass of ice water on my desk sitting next to his lap top. A drink on my scrap desk?! What? Doesn’t everyone know NOT to put a drink on a scrapdesk? I mean come on people – we’re not barbarians!

And THEN I notice that the “coaster” he’s using for this glass of ice water, which has obviously been there for a while because condensation is all over the outside of the glass… is a STACK OF PATTERNED PAPER I had left on the desk for a little project I’m working on!

ACK!

Obviously, I need to teach my Dad the importance and value of Hamby and KI Color Theory. You’ll all be relieved to know that I was able to rescue the paper before there was too much damage.

That was a close one.

My next project will be making a sign that says, “Attention Guests: Please do not place drinks on the scrap desk.”