Oh how happy this little guy makes me! He holds our honey for drizzling and is as cute and sweet as can be. Quinn spied it on our last grocery trip. It wasn’t much and we needed something easier so it was serendipitous!

Tonight, I am drinking my second glass of wine wondering why I had children again? Why the house is constantly in a state of needing to be cleaned up? As bad as I want to replace my on its’ literally last leg 20 year-old dining table, how can I as my daughter squeezes orange juice into a pitcher….and I see acidic juice happily eating into the table and my wooden floors? Didn’t I JUST clean up yesterday? And really, how many times must it take before Tyler learns not to hit is sister in response to her pissing him off? And when will she learn not to push him past his limit again and again and again?!?! I want to throw them out the window – I run from room to room hiding with my glass of wine. Why did we so decide to upset our happy, little DINK life and share half our house with banshees….and animals?!?!

Oh and mind you, these are all rhetorical questions. Cyclical questions….as cyclical as my period. Which hubby inquired about when I was in the middle of this evening’s tirade. “Oh, you were flying solo for x days and it is time for your…” {groan} And I want to vehemently deny that this has anything to do with hormones, but I don’t want to have to walk that one back in case it is.

Daddy has now masterfully weaved his way through the tantrum of our sweet little girl and is reading them books leaving me time alone. Yes, much needed time alone. Earlier my response to a child calling “Mama!”, repeatedly because they think I can’t hear them, was “go away!” Alone. Alone. Alone. Leave me alone. *sigh*

Anyway, basking in alone time, I thought I would catch up on posting some pics and found these from mid-Febraury. Oh, damn. Here is my house, my life, my animals, the creations, one banshee and I love it. I have to admit to myself that which I know…it is all perspective and mood. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and all the yuck will be gone. Maybe I will take the break I obviously need, maybe put a little bit less pressure on myself, maybe I’ll ask the kid to help a little more, maybe do something I want to do first…maybe I just need sleep? Because it will get back to good sooner than later and I will love everything just the way it is…well, so long as the legos and punched paper holes all over the floor disappear.

It is just how it goes: life and everything in it can completely suck…and then I find cute photos reminding me that it doesn’t. You can say I am moody. I would say I have kids.

Well, or that I realized fitting in is more about believing that you do. Or maybe 37 years of late blooming and I have FINALLY caught up to everyone else.

I always considered myself mediocre. A jack of all trades, but master of none. I have had the blessing of spending time with many talented people over my life – very smart people, very creative people, very eloquent people, very successful people, very adventurous people. I never felt like I belonged in these circles – not genuinely.

In the last few years, my confidence in myself has really grown and I like who I am. I am my biggest critic and in shutting her up and kicking her out of so many areas of my life, I am enjoying not only being me, but growing more and more into who I am. Like, I am really picky about wine and if I am spending $$ on a glass, I may have to go through 4 tastings before I find the one I like. (Note to friends: When it comes to free alcohol, I am NOT picky…at all.)

And you know what? I am pretty frickin’ smart. I thought mastering a subject and being the expert was the epitome of brains because intelligence meant knowing everything. I have come to realize that my intellectual value is rooted in my constant curiosity and passion for learning. I am not constrained by knowledge which allows for more creativity and flexibility in problem solving.

Damn that is good! We will now pause so I can add that piece to my resume..probably in the section titled, “Why you should not fear my long absence from the workforce and lack of current expertise in the job I am applying for.”

I have my own strong visual aesthetic. Pretty much everyone really close to me in my life is a photographer. Seriously…it is kind of nuts. I also come from a photography family. And I always considered myself the photography groupie…oh, I am with the photogs.

The truth is that I myself am a photographer – I take shots with artistic intention, a perspective I want to capture, a story or emotion I want to convey. I have no desire to pursue it as my friends and husband do, but it makes me happy and allows me another creative outlet. So there, I said it. I am out of the closet..with my fancy point and shoot hanging around my neck and a water bottle in the place where all the extra lenses should go….:-p

So I have to share some shots I have taken recently especially now that I replaced my beloved camera which broke a few months back. Camera phones are pretty good, but they can’t hold a candle to my baby. At least for the shots I prefer taking. Here are a few that I love, make me happy and allow me to expound a bit on my aesthetic!

1.) I adore this shot – all those lines make me so happy. It feels like a giant bite of so many good things at once. It could be such a chaotic shot with so much packed in, but to me, every element has such a symmetry to it. I can scan all these lovely parts – the paintings, the ceiling lines. the pipes, the chair rail (oh I love the location of that rail there). I dig it.

2.) I love the story told here…and maybe because it was my birthday dinner story that it makes me smile. I see satisfaction in this shot. I love it.

3.) FINALLY – I can take macro shots again! I love the sharpness and focus of shots like this. Delineation, lines, distinction, clarity – these shots speak to how I want life to be in general. And the I love the background defocus, because the noise can be a pretty blur creating some depth or context…as long as my subject is crystal clear. Even this shot isn’t perfect, but just to have the ability to capture this perspective much more easily makes me smile. Better than yelling at my camera phone, “focus on the raindrop, why can’t you see the raindrop?! stop taking pictures of that tree back there.”

4.) I can once again enjoy the amazing natural light that streams through our windows highlighting play, children, kittens, art and everything in between. In this light everything feels genuine and soft and peaceful. Just like one of our kittens here.

And so I will be posting more.

And to insure my camera is less abused, I purchased a smaller case that fits in perfectly. Well, it should be me at all times in case inspiration strikes and my small haiku purse would not accomodate that, so a much bigger purse that would hold the smaller purse, my camera and why not, my netbook too was in order. And then all these local loyalty cards were filling up my little coin purse making it hard to get to my credit card, so a cutie wallet that holds cards on one side and my phone on the other in hipster, vintage, retro fabric with requisite birds was a must!

I will have to take a picture of the new getup – I am quite excited about it….

This will be the last blog post about my Dad. I have not posted about his actual death and I want to tell that story. There were many powerful and meaningful moments that I don’t want to lose. Brains are unreliable, you know. {insider dementia joke…yes, we have those.}

I held a lot of frustration that last week because I do not take kindly to being told “this is it” when it wasn’t. And after spending many years tempering those alarms, I wasn’t going to allow myself to get sucked into them until I felt confident myself that we were indeed at the end.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted from this time in the beginning or how I would feel. I did request a few minutes alone for Bryan and I to have with Dad that first night Mom called. I will cherish those 5 minutes of saying goodbye to my Dad with my brother. In that small space of time we became two vulnerable children facing this together.

I didn’t care much for the tracking of vitals because I could hear him breathing and it told me where he was at. I was closely tied to his breath. I could tell when he was stable, when it became erratic and then he would adjusted to the new, slightly declined rhythm. I put my ear to his bony chest and listen to his heart. He had a strong ticker. For his slight weight much below mine, he still was so strong.

His breathing sounded so much like his snoring when I was a child. His snoring was pretty epic actually. After sitting there from midnight to 5AM, he fell into such a rhythm, that when we decided to sleep for a spell, it lulled me to sleep. Just like when I was a kid.

The next morning the hospice nurse was encouraging us to go home and rest and giving us the speech that our loved one would with us no matter what. But I couldn’t budge. There were two reasons I couldn’t. One reason is that deep down, I wanted to be there when he died. I wanted that moment and it was important to me. The other that was going home meant work to me. It meant being “on” with the kids and after being up all night, I was exhausted. I wanted to stay with him because with him was peaceful, with him asked nothing of me, with him allowed me to be his daughter. It was a bubble that I wasn’t ready to leave.

And after holding it all it to be the ever stoic, “mom, chill out” daughter, I cried and told these things to that hospice nurse. And she told me if staying is what I wanted, that is what i should do. Later it was just she and I in the room. And I confessed to her that what I really wanted was to get in bed and curl up with my Dad. And she said, “do it.”

And I did. That whole time sitting in that room seemed to strange to me. Sitting there and watching him. I wanted in that bed. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was wanting some sacred, quiet space with my Dad. Maybe I wanted to do what little girls do…snuggle with their Daddy when life is hard. I had four hours with very few interruptions. I would rest, play on my phone, listen to his breathing, listen to his heart, talk to him. It was all just so simple. A nurse came in an offered to take a photo and it has become my favorite with him. She captured what I was feeling in side.

I remember how I loathed lots of people in the room. One false alarm and my God, I think there were 8 people in the room – I had to walk out. I hated the chaos. It was like my Dad got lost in it and i couldn’t get to him. And I felt very protective of him.

Many people pass when the family is not there. I wanted to be there, but what did Dad want? My Mom, brother and I went left to go get dinner to give him that chance. But he waited. And an hour and a half later, he passed. And it was just how I thought it would be – he would just stop breathing and that would be it. No fanfare, no dramatic ending, no alarms – just the quiet end.

I remember being seated with my brother and two caregivers who were close to him came to see him and were holding his hands. We were chatting when he had a very long apnea. We all paused and looked and waited. He took a breath. We resumed chatting, but then came another long apnea. And we waited. And waited. And waited. I will never forget the caregiver turning to me, tears streaming down her face, saying, “he has no pulse.” I got up and put my ear to his heart. That heart I had checked in on many times that last few days. That strong fast-beating ticker, was silent. That moment I will never forget. His chest was silent and still. It was beating and then it wasn’t. Black and white. 1s and 0s. There and gone.

I walked to the foot of his bed and started chewing on my fingernail. I wanted to be next to him. I asked the caregivers for a moment of privacy for our family. Then I crawled back in that bed, buried my head in his arm and sobbed. I cried for a part of me and a part of my childhood that went with him. And I cried tears I had held for so long. They just came. That moment was so precious to me. It was a sacred space.

For having a slow passing, his was so very peaceful. And being the generous man he was, he gave us all so many beautiful moments. He gave me every moment I secretly wished for. Moments that are mine and mine alone. Moments I will hold sacred and close. Moments between father and daughter. A silent, peaceful goodbye.

Being together was all there was and it was enough. His spirit inside that body was enough for me. I was glad for the time I had to sit with him and experience his peace and his wisdom for the simple beauty of life.

And that man held onto his spark until the end. Not everyone who suffers from dementia receives that gift, but we did. No words, but he was full of joy and smiles up until a few months before the end. He walked and walked and walked. He danced. He sang. He patted you on the back. He laughed. For as many ways as his brain could have eroded, I am glad it left his spirit intact and unchanged.

Goodbye Dad. Now I feel you in the peaceful, still moments of life and they are less lonely to me. I feel you in the joy of watching a NOVA. In the freedom of a road trip. You are always with me and have given me so much…up until your last breath. Thank you so much Dad. I love you.

I have to remind Tyler when he thinks that public school took away his friends, that no, it is just the way life is as you get older.

Sure his friends have less time because of school, but our schedule is just as busy. Three of the five afternoons during the week, we have lessons ourselves. We have days where we are out of the house the whole day. And I know a lot of Moms, myself included, who like to be with their kids enjoying a quiet afternoon.

Of course, if the kids are fighting constantly and there is no peace to be had, well then, we are up for anything out of the house! Lives are saved that way people. So it was on a Sunday when we were looking for something to do as were our friends whom we don’t get to see that often. Fun ensued!

And any get together with friends that ends in theft of city property, well, I call that a total success!

I am an ignoramus when it comes to my emotions. Ignore, stuff down, explode, move on quickly and get back to good. Let’s face reality – emotions don’t work that way. I am getting better, but I think that losing a loved one is like the ultimate test. Loss is first and foremost sad. But wow, it brings EVERYTHING to a head. If you have any kind of past baggage, you might as well unpack it all at death’s door because whether you like it or not, it is coming out.

In the case of family, everyone is feeling a myriad of emotions and I can see how in death families fall apart. I have seen it happen twice in my life. It was ugly and sad. Everyone has a different connection to the deceased and different ways they want to go through that process. It is hard to reconcile, especially in the heat of the loss.

Thankfully, there was no family discord, but I better understand what I witnessed in my youth. And I am glad I got the advice to let my emotions flow after he passed. And they took turns bubbling up: anger, fear, sadness, guilt. Wash, rinse and repeat as they say.

What I didn’t realize is that these emotions would linger so long. After a weekend of being with family and friends and sharing honest, connecting and raw moments – I felt so naked and vulnerable. It was uncomfortable.

I guess I had this vision of grief that is being balled up on a floor, crying about your loved one. And I did have that the moment after he died. But so much more of it has been indirect – I am not tears every moment or every day. But I am so, so tired. My stomach freaked out this week. And in trying to kick my ass to get back to normal, those emotions are still coming: anger, fear, sadness, disappointment. As much as I want to point the finger as the messy house and no one’s help as the culprit, it is really this loss. I want to shoulder life and that isn’t how it works.

Loss is a slow leak really. He was only buried a week ago and we are only 3 weeks out from when it all started. There are a lot of emotions to process. The hardest part being a Mom is finding the space to do that. I have a hard time showing my feelings. It seems to bubble up most when I fear disappointing someone (my trainer) or when I let someone take care of me (the massage therapist at the gym). Yes, the gym, the saddest place on earth! :-p I have a penchant for crying there. Don’t you totally want to be my workout partner now? OK, not really. Today was my first time there in weeks and it was a good release for me.

I don’t know. Tyler and Quinn, I am sorry I was yelling and so mad yesterday. I know I was overwhelmed and had held so much in. I should have sat down with you two, been honest and set expectations:

“Mommy is still sad about losing Pop. And that is okay and I will be okay. But right now, I need some extra help from you two. I would like you guys to put away your toys and help me get dishes to the sink. I would feel better getting the house in better order. And then we can snuggle together and watch a show.”

It came out sideways and I am sorry I said some not so nice things. I just wanted to feel okay and fine and strong and lots of energy. But I am not those things right now. And now is what it will be for now. And slowly I will get back on the horse. But slowly and with time. And with love…lots of love.

…keeps the kittens from being bored. Or so Quinn believes. And so our cat tree is constantly redecorated with blankets, towels, cat toys and other furniture. She loves to make them hidden compartments and a door that she likes to use. Actually, I think the kittens really do enjoy it! Here is a pic I captured of one of her recent creations and the kittens making themselves right at home.