Monday, March 26, 2018

I guess we are really moving!

I lose sleep thinking about moving out of this house and into a new, huge house.   Of course, I lose sleep about everything!

I make lists and follow through.  Painter lined up?  check.    Carpet lined up.  check.  Inspection lined up.  check.

Packing stuff to unpack on the other end.  Putting things into a storage locker so we can "depersonalize" the house.  So someone looking at it can picture themselves having a life here.

Nick rented a storage locker, and yesterday he showed it to me.  We put a few things in it, and he is there right now putting more boxed and "stuff" into it .

Nick is putting something into the corner. 


I have been emptying my shelves of books and packing them up (to go into the storage locker).

















Saturday, March 17, 2018

Friends

What are friends?  That sounds like an age old philosophical question.

What prompted me to write is this;  I have a friend named Ann.  She is my nail lady- the person who does my manicures and pedicures.   We met when I went into the shop about ten years or more ago.   She is from Vietnam, a place I have been close to, but have never actually been there.

We have lived in South East Asia for almost 6 years.  Four years in Thailand in two year stints.  A year in Taiwan. And, we expected to live in China for a few years, but our preemie baby who needed medical care changed all that.

I recognize that there are big cultural differences between those places, but there is still something that makes me identify.  In Australia, the Asian moms (parents of the kids where my boys went to school) and the "white" Australians didn't click.  There wasn't any animosity, just, didn't click.  Then, somehow, I became an "honorary Asian" and got to have the best of both worlds.  Friends!

When we first went to Thailand, in 1976, Nick went to work every day, and I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do.  I had been fortunate enough to study Thai at FSI (the Foreign Service Institute) along side Nick, for ten months.  And, being someone who likes to talk anyway, my spoken Thai was pretty darn good.

I was all of 22 years old when we first went abroad.   I didn't really feel like I fit into the Embassy community.   People thought I was someone's daughter who was on break from college.

But, I had Ampai.  She was our maid, but we spent hours and hours together.  We went shopping in the  "fresh" everything market- meat, fish, live eels and frogs as well as flowers and clothing.  We took a boat up the river to who knows where and had a blast!  Somewhere I have the pictures to prove it!

Ampia was a maid, and we did pay her to work for us.  But she was also my best friend.  We really loved each other!  In 1978, when we left Bangkok, we left Ampai.  She and I hugged and cried.  And, all these years later, we keep in touch.  That's what a friend is.

All of the places we lived I had friends.  Or at least I tried.   I get too lonely and sad if I don't have a woman friend, or a bunch of women friends.  Some come into and out of your life.  Some, you never hear from again.  And some seem to be forever.

Don't get the idea that it has been easy.  When we arrived in Taiwan, all of the kids got chicken pox, so I missed all of the meet and greet activities.   I didn't know anyone.   So, I invited everyone with little kids to our house for Darcy's birthday party.  It wasn't about getting presents, it was about meeting people.   I didn't become friends with all of those people- or even most of them, but I did meet a few who I hung out with.

 Sometimes I have tried to get into a conversation only to be ignored by the others- the people who are already talking to each another.  Sometimes they don't even realize that they are ignoring me.  Sometimes they are really shits who I wouldn't want to be friends with anyway.

In October of this last year I made a trip to San Diego.  It was a La Leche League Alumni trip.  My second.  Some of the women I know only by name- having seen their names in print somewhere- in a newsletter or something.  And at least one of them and I met for the first time in October, and we "clicked".  Not sure what or why it happened, but we seem to share the same empathy for the same things  Also, while on that trip, I met with a friend who I have kept in touch with, but had not seen in over 40 years!  It felt like we picked up right where we left off!

In 2014 when I found out that I had a brain tumor, Ann was so very worried about me.  She called my house to see how I was, but Nick didn't understand who she was.
And now, back to Ann, my nail lady.   We have a friendship that is almost impossible to explain.  Her English is not always easy for me to understand, and I don't speak a word of Vietnamese.    But we matter to each other.  She tells me about her husband and their travels.  I tell her about my children.   Sometimes we don't talk at all, and sometimes we get the silly laughs.

All of the people I consider my friends, aside from my sister, are people that I had to make some effort to get to know.   By effort, I don't mean it was hard work.  But I did have to be a part of the conversation if I wanted to be in it.  When I finally was able to go back to the nail salon, Ann jumped up to great me.  We both stood there bawling like babies.

Then, in November 2017 I had another brain surgery.  Ann knew about it.  Turns out, my next door neighbor goes to Ann too.  So Kathy has kept Ann up to date.   Ann gave Kathy a Buddha to give to me.  She believes it will help me stay healthier and recover faster.    The Buddha is very tiny.  I think I will try to figure out how to make it into a necklace.

Yesterday I went to the nail salon and saw Ann for the first time in around four months.  We hugged and cried.  She wept like a baby.   It is friendship.  It is love.  It is wonderful.  It takes work to maintain, but it is worth it.


My tiny Buddha, a gift from Ann





Monday, March 12, 2018

It's mid March, mid day and I am in my pajamas

I sit here in my pajamas thinking and pondering and making mental lists and forgetting what I want to write on my lists.

So much to do.  So much to plan and think about doing.  And doing and doing.

Moving has never been my favorite activity.  The anticipation of the new.  That's great.  Looking toward the future and thinking about how neat everything will be.  Learning about your new house. Your new home.

But, first, there's the stuff.  All of the stuff.  Things. Some you care deeply about and will always keep- well until you die and your kids throw your things away.  Then there's the things you didn't even know you still have.  Oh no, didn't we throw that away 20 years ago.  Or the surprises- "no, it's not mine it must be yours".   And the trash.  And the organization.

This house, our home, must be made ready.  We have to make it appeal to someone else who will want it to be their home.   We have to "depersonalize" our home.   Take away what makes it a living part of our lives and our history, and make it into the box it was once built as.  Before we fell in love with it.  And our children grew up in it.  And I nursed every one of my babies in this house.  Almost birthed one right on the stairs.

"Home is where the Foreign Service Takes You".  We lived by that for a lot of years in a lot of homes.   We had each other and added our kids on the way.  We had enough of our familiar things to make it feel like home.  But we always knew that this house, the one we are abandoning to strangers, this was home.  Real home.

"Home is where the heart is".   There's a lot of heart in this house.  Pealing wallpaper.   Marks where holes have been punched in the wall.  The door frame where the kids' heights have been etched.  All of it familiar and comfortable.

And now there are no more kids tracking in mud and leaving finger prints everywhere.  No more reminding little boys to "aim straight".   No more rushing the kids out the door to catch the school bus.    No more asking if homework has been finished.  No more groups of teens eating pizza around our kitchen table.   No more "comfort zone" in the basement.

I will remember all of the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases and La Leche League meetings and baby showers.   And all of the people  who have been in this house, our home, who are no longer living.  Chet, my stepfather.  Dale, my brother, Daddy my father, Mommy, my mother, Bob and Mary, my in laws and beloved grandparents of our five children.     Friends too.  And cats and dogs and even a couple of adorable ferrets.

This is life.  People come.  People go.  They say that to know love means to know loss.  I don't know who "they" are, but on this one I think they are right.

How many years worth of Christmas pictures do we have of our family, growing from the two children who moved into the house with us to the five now grown and moved out.  So many pictures in front of the fireplace.

Our new house has a fireplace.  Actually, it has two. Maybe our next Christmas card will just have the two of us, and Buddy the dog, sitting in front of our new fireplace.

I know that I will miss this house.  I will dream about it.  I still dream about houses we lived in over 30 years ago- that weren't ours to start with.

In a way, the grieving started over 20 years ago.  The first time one of our baby birds was grown up enough to live on her own.     They all followed.  Each in their own way and on their own schedule.   They (yup them again) say that's the way it is supposed to be.

It feels right and it feels wrong.  Or maybe not so much "wrong" as inevitable and unstoppable.  I cannot stop the earth orbiting the sun.  Nor can I hold onto my babies forever. 

For forty years now I have been a mother.   And I will be for the rest of my life.   Until I die, I will be the one person who has know each of my children longer than anyone else in the universe.  I felt that first flutter.  A gift I will always cherish.

Thank you life for presenting me with such amazing gifts.  Thank you house for so many memories, good and bad,  I think I will try to let go of the bad and hold onto the good.   Thank you Sherwood children.  Grown, but not done growing in your lives and experiences.  You have taught me so much about life and love and have brought me to understand what is important in life,'

Thank you Nick for sharing this house and our many other homes around the world.  Thank you for the next adventure.

Oh my, what are we getting into with this big, new house?     There will be our fussing and frustration while we figure things out.  But there will be warm evenings and lots of laughing.  We do make each other laugh, even more as we get older.

No wonder the kids all moved out.  They realized how "lame" we are!




Friday, February 23, 2018

The gifts I have gained

I have been thinking about my children.  Adult children.  They are all so unique and individual.  Yet, when I look at them, each of them, I can see the shared genes/ DNA.  I see an older brother's face in a younger brother's.  I see gestures and expressions, both physical and vocal/ verbal.

I have been making a mental list of the gifts that they have each given to me.  As a mother.  As a person.

Courtney's first gift was that she made me into a mother.  She taught me how exasperating and exhilarating and terrifying it can be to be a parent.   It was such a thrill just to feel her soft skin and smell it and feed her body from my body.  We were so symbiotic.   And it was frightening.  Nick and I both standing over her in the middle of the night to be sure she was still breathing.  Still alive.  Still real.  Still ours.


Morgan came with an already "trained" mother (me).  I was 100% confident that I could do things right.  He smelled wonderful and I couldn't stop nuzzling his downy head.   He hummed as a newborn and I would put my cheek against his and hum with him.   He nursed well and grew well.  He wanted to be held and in contact more than Courtney had as a newborn.  I remember remarking to my mother that she must think I was "spoiling" him.  She said "you can't spoil a good baby, and they are all good".

Darcy came with a sweet personality.  Almost never crying or complaining as a baby.  At least that's how I remember it.  I do know that I walked with him at night a lot.   I used to push the love seat and sofa together to make a sort of pen where Darcy could safely nurse and sleep without me dropping him.  He was so inquisitive, and often did things that scared me to death.  He probably still does.

Austin came into the world proclaiming "I'm HERE!".  He was big and prefect and beautiful.  And I birthed him drug free.  Austin gave me the empowerment to trust myself to be able to do just about anything.  I became a mother warrior when I had Austin.  I knew that nobody or no thing had better get in the way of my or my family.  You gave me strength, Austin

Chance, you made me vulnerable.   With you I learned that I needed to depend on other people to help me even though I didn't want to.  I was scared and felt so scared that neither of us would survive your birth.   I thought that if I died, all of you kids would be alright because you have a great dad.  The first words out of my mouth after your birth were "is my baby alive?".   You were so wanted and so loved that I couldn't bear to think of the possibilities...   You taught me to be less judgemental.  With each of your older siblings, I was able to breastfeed and grow wonderful fat babies.  I felt that I was the one responsible for their health and well-being.    And I was.

But, Chance, as hard as I tried, I couldn't make you into a fat healthy baby on my own. It took months of hard work and the help of my La Leche League friends and wonderful Lactation Consultants, I am so grateful for the people who helped us.  Your early months made me more committed to helping mothers with my new knowledge  than anything else.  Because of you, I became a Lactation Consultant myself

How did I get so lucky!

Saturday, February 17, 2018

More pictures of the new house- click to make the pictures bigger

Master bathroom and bedroom




Master bedroom and sitting area (also reflection in the big mirror)




Sitting area of master bedroom




View of Master bedroom from Master Bath

"Fitness room" basement

Front Stairs center, dining room left, living room right




Upstairs bedroom










Looking into the kitchen from the sun-room

Front door from upstairs


Suite in the basement




another view of the basement suite

Basement

Basement


Looking down from upstairs

Basement/ bar area

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

We bought a new house






















Use tab to navigate to the items. Press space to select the item you would like to move. Use the left and right keys to select the new position of the item. Space to move the item to the position. Escape to cancel the operation.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Recovery

I got finished with IV antibiotics and the pill that I was taking.  Got the Picc line removed last week.  I guess that means I am free.  At least free of those constraints.  It's so nice that my day isn't revolving around taking pills and administering drugs and flushing my Picc line.

The site where the Picc line was is still tender.  I have had to wear a bandage over it because it hurts and I didn't want anything- like clothing, rubbing it.  Right now it is feeling alright.

This adventure has been very different than I expected.  I am not sure exactly what I expected, but I do know what I was afraid of.  I was afraid that I would have to be on a ventilator like the last time.  I was afraid I would wake up from surgery in a lot of pain.  I was especially scared of waking up with deficits- unable to think clearly, unable to walk or talk.   But I got through that better than expected.  I was thrilled when I wok up with no headache pain!   I felt wonderful.

Then after two weeks of feeling great, I was knocked down by being sick and going back into the hospital.

When I came home from surgery, it's almost like I was high on life.  I was feeling so positive.  So happy.  I had a hard time understanding why I had ever been sad or angry.  Those thoughts and feeling had vanished.

Getting sick after feeling so good was a shock and a surprise.  The second stay in the hospital felt more like work.  I had to work on getting better.  I had teams of doctors from several departments coming into my room and looking at me.  Asking me questions.  I did smile and talked and was sociable.  But not happily bouncing in the joy I had when I was first out of the OR.

And now, I am tired.  I am no longer tethered, but am cautious .  I have stayed housebound mostly.  Partly because I am not feeling 100 % better, but mostly because I am terrified of getting sick.  The flu is said to be especially bad this year.

I am expecting to wake up with my energy restored one of these days.

Meanwhile, here I sit.  In my pajamas, with my computer in my lap.  Watching a lot of TV.  Healing.