Posts Tagged With: feelings

what I’ve decided to say about my dad

Posted on May 19, 2014 by robynbird

Even though we call him something different, we’re here to celebrate his life and the impact he had on us. I’m going to celebrate my version of him by telling stories.

The first real memory I have of my Daddie is sitting in his lap at Great-Grandma’s funeral, we sat behind a kind of sheer green curtain separated from the non-family who were at the service. I remember sitting in his lap and playing with his fingers. When I think of his hands, I think of how big his fingers were. His hands were strong and capable and built so many things, but they were also gentle, I remember him holding my hand when I was a little girl, also as a grown up woman, oh how I loved seeing those hands hold my babies.
Sometimes those hands would bust our butts…
I remember a particular incident involving my cousins, C and L, my brother E, and me. We were in the basement at Grandma’s house and the boys had the sword (Why four children under the age of 12 were allowed to play with a sword is still beyond me.) but the boys had the sword and were hitting the metal pole that supported the I beam, the cool part was that it was making an awesome clanking sound. I distinctly remember watching them and thinking we were going to get in trouble. L begged for a turn and they just kept ignoring her. But then I heard feet rapidly crossing the house above us heading for the stairs and that was the moment the boys decided to give the sword to L. And as Daddie burst through the door there was L, sword raised above her head making a huge battle cry and attacking the pole.
They boys thought they were clever, but L was the only one of us who didn’t get her ass beat that day. (I’m not sure why I got it, I just sat there…perhaps it’s because I didn’t stop them.)

When I was a teenager, Daddie was the “cool” dad and friends liked to hang out over our house. I never got that…but does any kid ever? Some friends and I were downstairs watching a movie and I realized one of the angel fish was floating in the aquarium so I shouted upstairs for Daddie to come get it, he came down, reached into the aquarium grabbed the dead fish and waved it around as though it was saying goodbye to all the other fish. My friends though he was hilarious, but I was just mortified.
Another time I came home and he was standing there with my bra in his hand: so I found this under the couch cushion downstairs.
Thinking quickly on my feet I replied: I took it off watching tv last night.
I suspected he knew I was lying, but was relieved when he went with me on it.
It was hard being the teenage daughter of a police officer…there wasn’t much I could get away with…and boys knew he had a gun…

When he taught me to drive stick he was convinced I was capable, but shouted at me the entire time until I finally gave up, stopped the truck in the middle of the street, pulled the emergency break, got out, slammed the door and walked back down the hill to home. We laughed about that as soon as he got home, I laughed as I wrote this. The stubborn apple didn’t fall far from the stubborn tree.

My Daddie loved being a grandfather. He loved spending time with his granddaughters, and when he couldn’t spend time with them he loved hearing about their exploits. He always asked about the girls, and was excited to hear what was going on in their lives. I found a note Thing 2 wrote to him four years ago when she was in the eighth grade, taped to the wall beside his desk. She decorated the card with tons of animal stickers because she and her grandfather both love animals. She actually wrote the card because she got new address labels and was excited to use them. When I brought the card home to her she was flooded with the memory of making and sending it to him, and she was so touched he kept it right near him where he could see it for so long.

Y’all know how much my dad loved his dogs.
Together, the six of them who went before him welcomed their daddy home when he left this world for the next. Three others were left behind but I have faith they will be reunited in time.
I’ve heard all kinds of stories of their walks and driving around and people looking forward to seeing them in the back of the truck. He loved taking them places and showing them off, they loved the attention they got in return. He was a spectacular dog dad and those dogs were so spoiled with love, but never to the point of rotten. He wouldn’t have had that. They were so well behaved, he oftentimes mused he would have liked for E and me to have been so well behaved.

Daddie adored his neighbors, and loved his community. I recently learned he was referred to as the Mayor of Reva.
Oh how that fits him! He was the first to make sure everyone was well sorted and had what they needed and he didn’t hesitate to offer a hand when someone he cared about needed help. He was proud to live there on the corner where he could keep watch over his neighbors and friends.
Weren’t we all so lucky to have such a man looking out for us?

My dad had so much love in him. He didn’t know exactly how to show it sometimes, but he loved each of us the best way he knew how.
His fear of being unloved was so great that he kept a secret for most of his life, when he finally told that secret, the way he loved changed. He was finally able to give and receive love with his entire self, and what a joy that was to behold!
When he told me he was gay, I told him I wasn’t surprised and if he was happy and had love in his life that was all I wanted for him.
When I told the girls, Thing 2 expressed she knew something was different, the last time she saw him, but didn’t realize what it was. She was glad he trusted us enough to share such an important truth. Thing 1 told me she was so proud of him, and she asked if it was bad if she said she thought she actually loved him even more after she knew. My response to her was how could it be bad to love someone more than you already did.
I was proud of Daddie for telling his biggest truth and embracing the love that came at him because of it. He was so frightened that he would be judged and become suddenly unloved I don’t think he could believe how much love and support was offered him.

The last time YBW and Daddie and I had lunch together, he was teasing us because we’re “so cute” together, that we’re so good for each other, that he hoped to find a love like we have discovered. He talked about how I was the truest me with YBW, that he hadn’t seen this Robynbird since I was a little girl, and he was sure that I was as wonderful for YBW as he is for me.
But then, he leaned across the table and told YBW: you know, I’m an ex-cop and if you hurt her, I can make it so your body is never found.
I said: DADDIE!
But YBW looked at him and smiled: you don’t scare me.
And my dad laughed, because he knew they had that moment of perfect understanding, where they both loved me and it was good.
I wished so much for him to find that special person to love him for who he was and help him be the best him he could be.
Perhaps for him that truest love is between him and his God.

I’ve experienced so many feelings in the last twenty two days. The initial shock and disbelief, and then the beautiful agony of seeing his body before they took it from his home, a blessing for which I will be eternally grateful. The pressure in my chest when the realization hit me, the pain of having to share this news with the people I love most, as well as people I hardly know. The love and support that has come to me and my family is overwhelming. Moments of remembering which cause wild cackling laughter, and those that bring the flood of tears. Helping my babies grieve the loss of their grandfather, and allowing them to help me grieve my own loss. The joy of reconnecting with my brother and feeling awful that this is the reason why. I have cried silent tears and huge gut wrenching sobs. I am an orphan now. It doesn’t seem fair. I’m selfish, I want my Daddie and he’s never coming back. My sadness has created physical pain, the exhaustion seems never ending…
All these feelings churning inside me as I grieve the loss of my dad, but one feeling has come up more than any. One feeling surrounds all the others.
Peace.
I feel peaceful.
I am peaceful in my grief.

My dad lived his life. He loved and learned and lost.
He went from this life so quickly, just the way he would have wanted.
He wanted nothing but love and peace. And that’s what he has now.
We will continue to grieve, we are selfish, I am selfish, I want to have him here with me.
But he will always be with me. Because we loved each other and that love will always be ours.
That love brings me peace.
I wish each of you the peace I feel.

Categories: death, loss, love, me | Tags: blessings, Daddie, daughters, death, father, fathers and daughters, feelings, friendship, grief, loss, love, peace, relationships, saying goodbye, sharing, unconditional love, YBW | 3 Comments

a good daughter

Posted on May 4, 2014 by robynbird

I’ve been sitting in hospital all day waiting…waiting…waiting…
(Perhaps I’ve mentioned patience is not my most marked characteristic?)

I’m waiting because that’s what good daughters do. A good daughter waits while her dad has his hip replaced.
I am a good daughter.

A good daughter also identifies her dad’s body for the sheriff’s department before they can remove it from his home.
I am a good daughter.

I started this post on Tuesday while sitting in hospital…I came back to it Sunday after the entire world changed.

My dad was found dead in his bed Friday morning by the home health physical therapist that came to do his initial intake after he came home from hospital. When I got there, she was long gone but the sheriff deputies were waiting for me.
When I asked if I could see him the first response was to ask if I really wanted to see him and then they told me I wasn’t allowed to touch anything.
(My hackles immediately go up, I’m thinking: that’s my Daddie I’ll touch him if I damn well please.)
They tell me they have to stand in the doorway and watch me to make sure I don’t disturb anything. (Oh, I’m going to punch somebody in their mouth before this is over.)
The older sheriff’s deputy, who actually knew my dad, says: it’s OK sweetie, you can touch him.

What I wanted to do was crawl into bed with him and lie there for a little while before they took him away…but I was afraid that would make the deputies poop their pants. I touched his hand and leaned over and lay my head on his chest for a moment and then stood up, looked at him, whispered: oh, Daddie, then I left the room and didn’t go back in until I was finally alone in the house.

I cannot express how grateful I am that I had that teeny moment with him. I was able to see that he didn’t suffer, that he looked peaceful…
I have never felt less like a grown up than I did on Friday, but I’ve never done more grown up things than I did on Friday.

I don’t know what I would have done without Sundance or YBW on Friday.
Poor YBW…I called him when I got the call and he was unavailable…my plan was to leave a message that sounded something like: Please call me when you get a chance.
When I heard his voice on the outgoing message, I completely lost it and screeched: My dad died! Please call me back!
Sundance and I were texting back and forth before I got the call…so when I couldn’t get YBW I called her, when she didn’t answer…I texted: Please answer the phone please.
Before I could call her again, she called me and what followed was chaos.

Thing 2 said: Oh Mommy, I wish I could hug you. I told her: I will get to hug you next week when you get here. (She’s coming for my birthday.)
Thing 1 was beside herself with grief and I couldn’t hold her.
Thing G was so kind to me, he never stopped touching me Friday night, with little pats on my arm or leg or back, and so many hugs. His kindness was truly overwhelming. That sweet little boy took such good care of me when I needed to hold my own babies, he’s my baby too now. Thing 1 was so happy Thing G was taking such good care of her mommy, she told me to please thank him and give him big hugs for her.

I go tomorrow to sign the papers for a private autopsy to determine cause of death and then must decide whether or not to pursue legal action…I am not that girl.
I will also be able to spend a little more time with my Daddie’s body.
My God, I’m exhausted.

I am now an orphan…but I’m still a good daughter.

Categories: death, love, me | Tags: a good daughter, best friends, blessings, daddy, daughters, death, exhausted, father, fathers and daughters, feelings, friendship, grief, grown up, loss, love, orphan, relationships, sadness, saying goodbye, sharing | 4 Comments

fearfully and wonderfully made

Posted on April 24, 2014 by robynbird

I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Sometimes I need to remind myself of that. I get bogged down in the mire of my own…what? Well, concept of self, I guess.
The way it has felt like just surviving and not really living.
My birthday is coming and it occurs to me I don’t feel as ‘old’ (worn out) right now as I’ve felt in the recent past. I believe it’s because I feel safe and can let myself go. For so long I had no place to root, no place to spread my branches, I was bundled in burlap struggling with just as little water and light as possible. But now, I am digging in my roots and opening up and feeling blessed by the light that touches me. This is me living.
Life is wacky. It might always be.
But I am not. I am alight.
I have the whole of the universe deep within me and also at my fingertips.
I am blessed, not by what I have, but by who I am.

Categories: me | Tags: alight, birthday, blessings, fearfully and wonderfully made, feelings, happy, living, love, peace, rooted, unconditional love, wellbeing | 2 Comments

why am I always surprised?

Posted on April 21, 2014 by robynbird

I’m always surprised. You’d think after 26 years I would have figured it out…but no, every single time, I’m surprised.

My former husband called me Friday and said: happy Easter. (Aww, that was kind…did I mention I should have known better than to think is was sincere?)
After a brief time of catching up, he asks if I know what Thing 1 did.
Uh…no.
Well it seems she went to the emergency room and the bill showed up at his house as that’s the one listed on her driver’s license. So he wants to know what I’m going to do about the bill.
Pardon?

I suggest we have a mini discussion about it with Thing 1, see if we can come up with a plan all together. (I mean if she’s off shacked up with this guy, why are we still financially responsible for her?)

Then he begins to talk about Thing 2 and how bad her anxiety has become.
I suggest he take her to the doctor. He has no idea what that means…no idea where to start. I suggest he take her to the family practitioner and go from there…and when he hems and haws I remind him that he’s the parent and he has to be responsible for her. Which kind of turns into a bigger discussion than he’s interested in so he hustles off the phone but not before he says he’ll call me back. (He doesn’t.)

Saturday morning I get a call from Thing 1, guns a’ blazing. She’s all bent because, “Daddy told me you said send the bill to me. How am I supposed to pay it?”
Whoa there sister.
I do a little damage control and move on.

I call her father (who conveniently doesn’t answer) and leave a message.
When he finally calls me back, I’m like, what’s your deal?
He says: Well I was mad at you so I called Thing 1. (You stupid, passive aggressive, manipulative jackass!)
I stop him right there and say, “You have got to get it together! Be a grown up, be a man! If you are angry with me, you talk to ME! Not our children! You’re up my ass about money but can’t be bothered to discuss what’s going on with Thing 2. You’ve made a huge mess down there and you are going to have to clean it up.”
He is quiet, then he makes excuses, then he apologizes. (The apology is meaningless, he just says it out of habit, to end the conversation.)

I honestly don’t understand. Any of it really. Starting with the fact I thought he was a grown up all those long years ago and ending with how I continue to ask myself, why did I choose to remain blind for so long?

I made a promise to remain hands off in the fall when he and Thing 2 decided she didn’t need a mommy in her life.
I made that promise to myself. I vowed not to clean up whatever mess they made. It has made for some harrowing moments for me…but I am sticking to it.
The problem is they’ve made a bigger mess than I could have ever imagined. Thing 2 will suffer for it, but she is choosing to…
He has no idea how to be a parent other than to provide food and shelter…that’s all he’s ever done.
The thing that frustrates me the most is the fact he won’t admit he’s cocked it up. He would rather let it all burn than admit he’s made a mess and try and figure out how to clean it up…or ask for help cleaning it up.

He called me under the guise of happy Easter, my beloved Easter. And I was surprised when it went down the rabbit hole. (Shame on me.)
When will I stop being surprised? Why do I continue to give the benefit of the doubt?

I am so much better off away from that toxicity.
I’ve thrown my baby a life raft, she’s choosing not to take it.
It’s time to sink or swim.
My friend and mentor has told me I built her foundation and she’ll be successful in spite of all this…I trust that.

I’m so disappointed in myself for believing so long that he is something he’s not…I believed the facade I helped create.

Categories: divorce, me, on being a mom | Tags: cleaning up the mess, daughters, disappointment, divorce, feelings, finances, frustration, manipulative, parenting, passive aggressive, relationships, sadness, surprise | 5 Comments

music that moves me

Posted on April 12, 2014 by robynbird

I’ve been thinking about music today…how it moves and shapes us…individually and as a society.
Specifically, how it moves me.

When Things 1 and 2 were little, there was always music playing in our home, anything from showtunes to classic rock, (Luckily they were too little to understand how inappropriate AC DC lyrics are for children.) blues to classical. When they got a little older, they began influencing what got played, for Thing 1 it was Spice Girls, then she discovered Blondie after which she moved into Nirvana and Eminem. Her musical tastes are as eclectic as all get out, if you went through her itunes you’d find everything from ‘screamo’ to the Music Man Soundtrack. Thing 2 loved the Go Go’s and Talking Heads, then she shifted into really alternative stuff…she often talks about how she wishes her life was a movie so it could be one musical montage after another using any and every type of music she deems appropriate. (Quite honestly, of all the people I know, Thing 2’s life as a musical montage would be something I’d love to watch.)

Once I began to think of how music has shaped my life, has moved me, has gotten its hooks deep into me, I began to create a sort of list of albums that have heavily influenced me. (The List Lady strikes again.)
I feel the need to point out these are not my “favorite records” but ones that shaped or changed me in some significant way.
They’re in particular no order, just listed as they came to me…some I’ll talk about why, some you’re just going to have to go with me on.

Little Creatures ~ Talking Heads
This is the first time I remember buying my own album…everything up to that point had been bought for me as gifts or me asking for it to be picked up with my babysitting money when Mommie was out. God, I wore out this record. David Byrne is a megalomaniac, but because he’s so brilliant, I guess it’s OK. As She Was reminds me so of Thing 1 when she was just beginning to blossom.

Disraeli Gears ~ Cream
Because I dated a bassist in high school (he would probably prefer the term ‘bass man’) you know I can still sing every bass line from every Cream song? It’s funny to me what sticks with you. My God, Jack and Eric and Ginger are absolute perfection! I love this band second only to Zeppelin.

Led Zeppelin III ~ Led Zeppelin
It’s hard to pick the favorite of the favorite, but as much as I love Houses of the Holy, I think Zep III changed me more, changed my point of view somehow.
The softer side of the Hammer of the Gods.

Defenders of the Faith ~ Judas Priest
I will say only one thing about this album…we all have a past.

London Calling ~ The Clash
What I love about Joe is (was) his ability to continue to break out and do new things, this record is absolute proof of that! They were evolving musically and it showed. I believe this album is an absolute staple in any musical library.

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars~David Bowie
I played this record until my ears bled. I remember jumping on the bed at camp at Orkeny Springs singing Hold onto Yourself with a girl called Angie at the top of my lungs. The later released CD has bonus tracks on it…and they’re perfect! This album still moves me when I hear something from it today.

Strong Persuader ~ Robert Cray Band
I LOVE every single song on this album. It’s bluesy but also kind of rocks…this guy has women issues. I love it! He also doesn’t take himself too seriously. Did you know Robert Cray taught his friend Eric Clapton how to bend a string? Yep, during the recording of Clapton’s Journeyman album.

Seven and the Ragged Tiger ~ Duran Duran
Rio is probably my favorite D2 album, but I remember being more moved by this one when it came out and even today, when I hear something from it, it gets me…right in the pit of my belly.

Pyromania ~ Def Leppard
One word explains why this one is on the list: my little brother (Well I guess that’s three, but you get the point.)

The Libertines ~ The Libertines
I adore Pete Doherty, all smacked out and all cleaned up. He’s raw and beautiful and the combination of Pete and Carl Barat is truly exceptional. This album is a painful realization of the destruction of a band, but it’s so great. What became of the likely lads, indeed? (Pete’s got a new band-Babyshambles and I love them too! Shotter’s Nation gets a special little shout out here.)

Alternative to Love ~ Brendan Benson
This is what pop music was intended to be. He writes beautiful lyrics and the music is catchy. I love this album…it’s a “go to” in my car.

Way to Blue: an Introduction to Nick Drake ~ Nick Drake
What can I say? This man was taken from us too soon. Pink Moon. My GOD! Beautiful. Heartfelt. Nick wrote and sang from his soul and this is a lovely compilation of his work.

Dream into Action ~ Howard Jones
I used to love Howard so much! This is another record I wore out. I love when I’ll randomly hear one of these songs when I’m out somewhere…usually in the grocery store.

Slowhand ~ Eric Clapton
Two words: The Core.
This album is perfect from start to finish. I love every single song on it! They scrawled “Clapton is God” throughout the London Underground for a reason, people.

West Side Story Soundtrack
I love this play, I love the music, the beginning of America is one of my all-time favorite bits of lyrics ever, the dance at the gym, the mambo and the little “snapping” song…Something’s Coming is perfect and I Feel Pretty is just too cute for words! When you’re a Jet you’re a Jet all the way. (Till my last dyin’ day.)

Other People’s Lives~Ray Davies
I’m a Kinks girl without a doubt, actually, the first concert I ever saw was the Kinks. Ray is one of the most beautiful song writers and this is his first solo album in his whole 40(ish) year career. It’s GREAT! He’s still got it. This is another “go to” for me in the car…if it were a record I’d have worn it out by now.

13 Tales of Love and Revenge ~ The Pierces
These sisters from Alabama are absolutely amazing! I love the way they write, the way they sound…I love the darkness that permeates this album. And the ennui…and the hopefulness…and the bitterness…and the love.
It got me through a really bad break-up, but I still love to listen to it now, all these years later.

Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars ~ Edie Brickell and New Bohemians
This album absolutely defines a time in my life, yet I find it transcends it too. I love these songs now as I did then, and it’s not just the nostalgia.
Sundance and I saw her at the Birchmere in 2004…she borrowed a ballcap from a guy in the audience to keep her hair out of her face with jokes of lice and made up a little scat about the vinyl checkered tablecloths. Sassy thing.

Billy Idol ~ Billy Idol
Billy FOREVER!
Love Billy. Love this album. Generation X, they tried so hard to be bad ass like the Pistols and just couldn’t cut it…Billy did better on his own. This album is perfection! From Come On, Come On all the way to Dancing with Myself. I turned Thing 2 onto Billy.
Saw him with Sundance in Richmond in September of 2003, we raced home in front of hurricane Isabel. He’s got so much energy and gives every bit of himself.

The Pretty Reckless ~ Light Me Up
Taylor Momsen, the girl I loved to hate as “Little J” on Gossip Girl is the girl I love to hear in this band! Thing C actually turned me on to them. This album got me through a horrifically tough time with Thing 1, I listened to it all day every day. Thing 2 loves them too, and Thing C and I saw them in concert in the fall and she was wearing proper clothes not vintage lingerie.(Part of me was disappointed, I love vintage clothes…even undergarments.)

I’ve most likely forgotten something…and I’m actually considering albums that quite possibly could be added to this list…but only for the love or nostalgia…though that isn’t really what I’m trying to do here.

Categories: me | Tags: albums, babyshambles, best friends, billy idol, Blondie, brendan benson, concerts, cream, daughters, david bowie, David Byrne, def leppard, duran duran, edie brickell, eric clapton, excitement, feelings, friendship, fun, ginger baker, happy, howard jones, i dig music, influential albums, jack bruce, judas priest, led zeppelin, loss, love, mixtape, motherhood, mothers, music, music that moves, nick drake, Pete Doherty, ray davies, records, Robert Cray, robert cray band, sharing, soundtracks, talking heads, Taylor Momsen, the clash, the kinks, the libertines, the pierces, the pretty reckless, west side story, ziggy stardust | Leave a comment

the sad sandwich?

Posted on April 5, 2014 by robynbird

I’m feeling sad today, and missing my two Things.

I know I made the decision to come be here, and Thing 1 isn’t at ‘home’ anyway, and Thing 2 decided she was no longer interested in having me participate in her daily goings on…but I find myself missing the daily life stuff.
YBW and I were looking at tile for the impending kitchen remodel and stopped on the way back home for subs, when we sat down, I got teary realizing how much I dislike not being around my girls.

Something as simple as ordering subs and having Thing 1 build a big ol’ salad on the teeniest amount of meat and cheese then drowning it in oil and vinegar, and Thing 2 with just ham and cheese with a bit of honey mustard and mayo…these are just silly things that make me love being their mom.
Here’s something nobody ever thinks to tell you, the silly things are the most important.

I love being the ‘mom at this house’ for Thing C and Thing G.
(Thing G used that phrase, we all went to see the Lego Movie when it came out, we all being YBW, the Things, their mom, stepdad, and uncle, and he wanted to sit between “the two girls” that way he would be beside the “mom of each house”.)
But it just isn’t the same as being the mom of my own two Things. For starters, I honestly do not understand boys. They are an enigma to me…not to mention all that testosterone!
I long for girlie contact! Estrogen fueled giggles and television/movie watching, shoe and clothes shopping. My niece, Girlie Thing works for that most times…I’m practically her mom, too…but she’s very tied up with sports and her friends and, well…her own mom that we don’t actually get to do it as often as either of us like.

It’s not about a ‘date’ though it’s about the every day. Those weird phone calls that start out with, “Mommy, can you swing by Publix or Bi Lo on your way home?” And end with a list of the most ridiculous things from sushi (They assure me the premade at Publix is pretty decent in a pinch, I don’t eat sushi.) to grape juice and chocolate Pop Tarts. Or random Saturday morning quickies in our pajamas to Waffle House because Thing 2 and I were lazy and didn’t feel like making breakfast. Or just being with one or both of them, because it’s natural and we’re a part of each other, conversing without having to speak, a look or gesture or trademark silly face that means so much. Or a lifetime of memories that mean nothing to anyone but us. Or a house full of girls doing hair and make-up in both bathrooms…or all the kids hanging out on the sofa with sodas and pizza because even though we didn’t live on the lake like most of their friends, it was the ‘coolest’ place to hang out. (6 teenagers and a hammer, anyone?)

I am where I belong. Of this I have no doubt. And most days I’m happily engaged in this new life I’m building. But there are those times, like now, when I long for my ‘other’ life…the one where I’m the mom of my own Things and not having to share somebody else’s Things.

Clearly I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself today. Perhaps it will pass quickly because honestly, I don’t think I have the patience to be sad about Jersey Mike’s sandwiches much longer.

Categories: me, on being a mom | Tags: chick flicks, daughters, feelings, fun, giggles, girls, happy, home, jersey mike's, kitchen remodel, lego movie, loss, love, motherhood, parenting, relationships, sad, shoe shopping, silly, tile, waffle house | 5 Comments

cheer up cheerily

Posted on March 19, 2014 by robynbird

It has been a…what’s the word…curious(?) couple of weeks. I have been completely overworked at school, and editing that book, as well as finishing up my school term, not to mention still trying to process my personal feelings about my little friend whose mother died.
But(!) the curiousness is actually the best part!

Robin birds in the spring are a SUPER big deal for me, (Gee, I can’t imagine why.) but since my mom died, I’ve not seen them anywhere near as frequently or in as great of numbers as it seems I always have in the past….and if I have seen one, I’ve been with either Thing 2 or YBW only.
A part of me was relieved I wasn’t seeing them in great big amounts because it was painful, made me miss my Mommie, but a part of me was disappointed, because it is one of my favorite “rites of Spring”. My theory was “God” (by whatever gender or name) kind of knew I wasn’t ready, that was why the sightings were so few and far between, or I was with those particular people.
This year however, I have seen more robin birds than I have been able to count! They’re EVERYWHERE! Even with all this snow, they’re flying and chirping and skibbling all around on the lawns. My joy is immense at hearing their “cheerily cheer up cheer up cheerily”!
It must be time. Either I’m finally healing on own, or Mommie is ‘up there’ pulling strings to make me heal (Of course she would still be trying to boss me around.)

The second ‘wonderful’ aspect of the curious is YBW. I had a total crap day yesterday and he just happened to be home when I came home for lunch, I honestly can’t remember the last time I was that happy to see anyone. He hugged me and I just breathed in his scent and felt so much better straightaway …I was instantly safe and comforted and so very grateful. I was just enough to bolster me to get through the rest of my day.

I went to see the holistic doc and he was worried about my appearance, when I told him I was just worn out, he was worried it was the book. No, my job…the strangest thing…he offered me a job right on the spot! I thought and thought about it…made the pro and con list in my head, talked with Sundance and YBW about it then went to school this morning and met with my director (For three hours!) discussed where my ‘heart is’, made plans for positive changes. I walked into her office completely devoid of hope and walked out three hours later quite full.
Got an email with a new chapter for the book with a note asking me to let him know about the position. I’m going to decline…I know how to run the office because I did it for my doctor before I came here, and it is very seductive to receive all that free healthcare, and there are so many positives, but there are negatives, too…but ultimately, it isn’t where my heart is.
If I am going to leave my school I need to do it in a mindful way, not a reactionary way. I’m not ready yet, my time there isn’t finished.

The robin birds are singing just for me, “cheer up cheerily”.

Oh! P.S. YBW and I are going to the beach the day after tomorrow! Hello, Jewish Mother for breakfast! Yay for YBW and yay for the mini break!

Categories: me | Tags: beach, birds, blessings, book, come to Jesus meeting, early childhood education, early morning, editing, feelings, healing, hope, job, love, mindful, mini break, mothers, new chapter, new job, overworked, peace, reactionary, robin bird, robins, sadness, school, song, spring, the Jewish Mother, VA beach, weekend getaway, where your heart is, worn out | 2 Comments

weekend at the beach?

Posted on March 11, 2014 by robynbird

I’m ready for a mini-break.
Only a weekend, doesn’t even have to be a long weekend…just a few days away. I’m leaning towards the beach. I love the beach when it’s cold I love getting to do all the fun beachy stuff without the myriad people all up in it.
So the question becomes which beach. Ideally I’d head to Duck, but that’s a bit of a schlep for a simple weekend, VA beach has The Jewish Mother, and is close enough to be a short weekend jaunt. Or I could head north to Delaware or Maryland.
Honestly, I don’t care where the mini-break is…I just want to get out of this place for a little while…away from school and home and the responsibilities. I want to be quiet, but not at home.

I’ve been quiet since the sad news last week, I’m not sure YBW knows quite what to do about me. He keeps asking if I’m OK. Yeah, I’m OK. I mean, seriously, this puts everything into perspective, right? But I’m quiet. And I’ve learned that when I’m quiet, he’s quiet…withdrawn quiet. (I don’t think that’s his intention, I think it’s how it feels to me…I think he doesn’t know how to help so he’s respecting the quiet, but it makes me feels icky.)
I don’t know how I’m processing what’s going on with people I care about, I mean I cried because I returned a pillow to Pier 1 on Sunday.

I was looking for a project around the house, not one that’s too big, but something I can control and execute, to feel as though there is order. I am a great admirer of order. The pillow was to be part of that project, and though I absolutely adored the pillow, it was not working so I returned it. Then I was left feeling as though I have no purpose. So I can move on to another project idea or I can stop and take a great big breath.

Mini-break.
Makes sense to me, examine how I’m processing all that I’ve experienced in the last week without redirecting it into something I can control. (Though I really do want to paint some things around the house.) A couple of days at the beach, walking the sand, doing beachy things, being quiet away from the places I have responsibility. As I’m writing this I’m considering whether or not I want to take this time alone or with YBW…I honestly don’t want to be alone, I just want to be quiet, until I’m ready to talk. I want to feel cared for and coddled without compromising my dignity (or his) I want to be in the moment together.

He’ll be home soon and when he gets here I’m going to see if I can interest him in a beach weekend.

Categories: me | Tags: beach, coddled, feelings, grief, healing, irresponsible, lack of responsibilities, loss, love, mini break, peace, protective, quiet, sadness, sand, surf, weekend getaway, wellbeing | Leave a comment

circle the wagons

Posted on February 28, 2014 by robynbird

I’m feeling the need to retreat into myself.

Normally, this is not a good feeling for me. It tends to mean I feel overwhelmed and need a break. The idea of a break is sound. The problem is, normally when I experience this feeling, it not only means I’m overwhelmed but also that I’m feeling disconnected.
So the idea of shutting myself in is only good for part of what ails me…the part that needs a little quiet. The disconnected part will suffer this circling of the wagons because it momentarily severs ties to those around me.

I have time to make good choices…I’ve been weighing my options and have decided I can lock myself up with my computer (Because I absolutely have to finish editing the book my holistic doctor asked for help with.) but only for a set period of time.
That’s the quiet.

Now for staying connected.
Yeah…I don’t really give a damn about that right now…which means staying connected must be a priority.

Thing C and Thing G come home from their mom’s today. Of course Thing G has been over our house every single day this week because of a bit of change in his mom’s schedule so it’s not really any different than it’s been all week.
Though it did help me realize how much I’ve come to appreciate those weeks when there isn’t anybody I have to be responsible for in my home.
I was really very sick for four days in the previous week, then back to school without another adult in my classroom, then no real quiet time with or without YBW and now we’re back to the “boys week”.

The quiet can be had…
Even the idea of connecting feels forced, so much so that I have little interest in making the effort.

Interestingly enough, I was considering heading out to see my dad on Sunday, (Talk about being desperate for a connection!) but it felt good when I thought it so I will trust my gut.
Felt, thought and trust…the heart feels, the head thinks, the gut knows what’s up.

Though I might ignore all three and hold up in the quiet for as long as I can stand it. I’m tired and I don’t want to put forth any effort, don’t want to be around anyone…perhaps I’m sick of winter, I have a strong desire to “go out and get the stink blown off” me but it’s just too damn cold for that nonsense.

Editing must come first.
After that, it’s a crap shoot.

Categories: me | Tags: circle the wagons, connecting, crap shoot, feelings, good choices, overwhelmed, peace, quiet, retreat, tired, weighing options | 1 Comment

missing Mommie

Posted on January 25, 2014 by robynbird

I’ve been experiencing above average feelings of missing my mom the past week or so. I find it sits rather ill with me, this feeling of missing her. I had a…peculiar relationship with her to say the least…with an entire baggage carriage of unresolved issues accumulated over my lifetime. The thing I need to remind myself the most is that these bags would still be packed and loaded in the baggage carriage even if she was still living.
Mommie was not inclined to examine or converse any subject she found distasteful, which could include anything from how to apply eyeliner to why she sent me to live with my absentee dad when I was 15.
YBW always asks questions like, why didn’t you ask her about these things? I’m like, DUDE! What part of me saying she wouldn’t answer a direct question if it somehow displeased her did you not understand?
Oh did I ask questions…like when Thing 1 was in kindergarten and would come home to her mommy and baby sister every day as opposed to when I was in kindergarten and wore a key around my neck on a ribbon and came home to an empty house because I had no dad and a mom who worked fulltime to support my little brother and me.
So one day I said to her: You were really brave, that must have been really scary for you to be so far away at work when I was home by myself in kindergarten.
She replied: I did what I had to do.
Me: Was that hard for you?
Mommie: I had no choice.
Me: No, I guess you didn’t, but I can’t imagine Thing 1 coming home by herself in the middle of the day and not worrying about her. I’m not sure I could be that brave.
Mommie: I knew you were capable.
Me: But you didn’t worry, you weren’t scared for me?
Mommie: I had no choice. I knew you could handle it.
Me: Well, I think you were really brave.
Mommie: I didn’t have a choice.
(Notice anything interesting about this conversation? Like, oh I don’t know, it’s completely one sided?)

Or when I was 17, the time I got a call from a church mom whose little girl I babysat, she wondered if I was still willing to sit for her even though I lived so far away at my dad’s house now…at the end of the call, she asked me if I was excited for my mom… I replied, about what? Then she did that age old dance called the “hem-haw” and finally told me that my brother had stood up in church the week before to share a joy…the joy that his mom was to marry another church member. (I didn’t know the phrase WTF then…but I can assure you I experienced the sensation.)
So I called over Grandaddy’s (my former home) and got my brother on the phone: Anything interesting you want to share?
And for the second time that day I was treated to the “hem-haw” dance…until finally I said: E, I’m not mad just tell me what’s going on…I know what happened in church on Sunday.
He whispered: they made me swear not to tell you. Then out loud he said: Mommie just got home you want to talk to her?
His face must have told the story because she got on the phone: I wanted to tell you in person.
Me: But not before you let E tell the whole congregation. You can’t pick up the phone?
Mommie: I wanted to tell you in person.
Me: But you didn’t. Who are you even marrying?
Mommie told me and I was only vaguely aware of this human being…then she decided I should come over for that weekend and then I could meet him. And then she dropped the big bomb…she wanted me to be her maid of honor when they got married.
To her it was OK that I was in the dark, E knew…E was permitted to develop a relationship with this man…E was asked for his opinion and approval before she decided to say yes. E was to “give her away” to this man. But I was not even given the consideration of a phone call. (I suspect I sound petulant, I didn’t feel petulant or even slighted, I just didn’t understand.)

And the time I dared to ask the most important question…seeking the answer to the event that changed my entire life. (I asked this as an adult.)
Why did you send me to Daddy’s?
And she said: I thought you needed your father.
Me: The father who left me when I was five?
To which she said: NOTHING.
So I went on: What about Grandaddy? What about E? Did they have a say? Why didn’t you talk to me? Did you even talk to Daddy about it or did you just decree it? How do you just kick someone to the curb like that?
To which she said: NOTHING.
Me: Mommie, don’t you think I should finally be allowed to understand what happened?
Mommie: No. It’s over now so there’s no need to bring it up.

All I know is how it happened, after spending a week of so at my dad’s the summer after my freshman year, I called my mom and said, I’m ready to come home, will you get me on your way home from work?
All she said was: you’re not coming home.
She unceremoniously packed up by belongings in big black garbage bags and had them waiting on the front porch for me to pick up. I wasn’t even allowed to go into the house. I never got to hug my Grandaddy or E.

Daddy has since told me that she called him and said: if you don’t take her I’m sending her to a home.
There is a part of me that considers this could be the truth, but my dad has an affinity towards exaggeration so I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

My mom was sick for a long time before she told anyone. She was hospitalized for 18 days with pneumonia before she would “let” her husband call me to tell me they found cancerous cells in her lungs because “she didn’t want to tell me unless they knew what it was”. She died seventeen days later. Seventeen days.
I was able to go see her, to be with her for a few precious days between the two phone calls. I was shocked to see her so sick, it was the first time in my life that her body was not bigger than mine, the first time in my life that I held her and she didn’t hold me. The first time in my life I realized how stupid I’d been thinking things would always be one way and never considering they would be a completely different way. I was desperately clinging to my concept of myself as child even though I am a parent, thinking that 40 simply wasn’t old enough to not have a mom anymore.
I was blessed with that time with her, none of our baggage was unpacked but I got to love her in an entirely new way. I was blessed because she was still her, I made a snide remark and she shot me her ‘mom look’ the one that used to frighten me so, but this time I laughed and said, you don’t scare me, you’re dying and you’re still trying to scare me into submission. She intensified the look and I smiled, at her leaned over and kissed her emaciated face and said softly, OK, maybe you scared me a little. She nodded her head and made a little “hmph” noise. She was Mommie even though she was sick and frail and could hardly breathe she was that terrible, tyrannical admiral who was the irrefutable boss of us all. She told me to go home and be a mommy.
(Things 1 and 2 had three nights of play at school, and their dad was going to his Goddaughter’s wedding out of state, and even though Thing 1 could cook and drive, nobody was comfortable with them being home alone.)

When I left my Mommie, I knew it was for the last time and I hugged and kissed her and laid in her bed all snuggled up to her and I said: I’m going to come back next week but if you’re not here, that’s OK. You go where you need to go because you’ll always be my Mommie and I’ll always love you. (And that was when the tears finally came even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry in front of her.)
She put her hand on my face and said: Don’t cry, baby.
I took a big breath and held it for a moment before I said: You go where you’re going and when you get there you tell my Grandaddy I miss him.
She smiled and nodded and for the last time she said: I love you, baby.

That was Tuesday, I was planning to go back down on Sunday after the show closed and the Things dad came back from the wedding, but I got the call at 8 that morning from her husband who was so broken up I almost didn’t understand him. I was all ready to get in the car and go when he requested he be able to be with her alone when she died. I respected their love and did as he asked. This is the one thing in my life I regret. I know now I should have been there when she died. Not really for her, though partly, but for myself. I needed to do that for both of us, but didn’t because I was trying to be kind to him.

The one thing that comforts me about those two phone calls is YBW. I was up here for the weekend when I got the first call, and though I left messages for Sundance and the Things dad, YBW was the first person I told live. I was here for a few hours before he got home and already in bed, when he got into be he hugged me and kissed my hair, and I said: my mom has cancer. I can’t talk about it right now but I had to say it out loud.
He held me close and let me fall asleep.
He was down there with me the weekend the second call came, he had come to see the play and we were just waking up when the phone rang. He was helpless and I was manic, but he was there and I will always remember the importance of that.

My “Mommie” baggage carriage will never be unloaded but I’ve parked it in a siding so I don’t have to haul it around with me every single day. Sometimes I allow myself to go into it and rifle through the bags, because there is good stuff packed in there along with the not so good.
I miss her because I want to tell her things only she will find amusing, like how Good Guys is closed and the building is up for lease…Sundance and I are the only ones left who understand the humor in that. I want to tell her things about the Things. I want to share how wonderful my life with YBW is…she never even met him.
My two year old friends at school always reassure each other that mommies and daddies ALWAYS come back when they’re suffering separation anxiety. I agree with them saying: yes, mommies always come back. But I always think: except mine. (Perhaps you’re never too old to experience separation anxiety.)

I’m much older than my mom was when her mother died and I’m older than my beloved sister-in-law was when hers died. I guess I really miss the idea of having a mom.
That concept of comfort a mom provides. It’s funny because I would experience moments of “I want my Mommie” when she was still living even though I knew full well she wouldn’t bring me any comfort.
She was critical and bitter and she was closed off and she fought for constant control, but she loved me. I’d stake anything on that. She loved me and I felt and continue to feel it. I didn’t know her, I surely don’t understand her…but I love her.

I have worked to show my girls who I am, so they never experience the same feelings about me that I have about her.
Thing 1 was probably her favorite of her three granddaughters. Thing 1 was her first grandbaby and I believe the most precious, she loved Thing 2 and my niece Thing D, but I’ve never thought she loved them the way she loved Thing 1. One day, years ago while riding in the car Thing 1 asked me a biblical question which I could partially answer, then I suggested she call Grandmommy and ask her. She did right there in the car, got the rest of her answer and when she hung up she said: Grandmommy is awesome. I’m sorry you don’t really like her.
(WHOA!)
I said: I love Grandmommy very much it’s just a complicated relationship. I don’t really know her very well so it feels kind of hard to like her. She doesn’t really comfort me like I hope a mommy would comfort her child which is hard, but I know she loves me and I love her.
Thing 1 was quiet for a moment and then she said: I’m sorry Grandmommy doesn’t comfort you Mommy, because I can’t imagine how awful it would be if you didn’t comfort me. You always make me feel better when anything is bad. You’re very good at comforting.
Then almost under her breath she said: Thing 2 and I are really lucky you’re our mommy.

I realize this has been kind of chaotic jumping all over the place but that’s how it goes when I think about my mom. The feelings of love are inexplicably linked to the feelings of pain and disappointment. I have worked to raise my girls in a more authentic environment…one where they see that I’m a real person I’m not a dictator, though I’ve held ultimate veto power, I’m a real woman who was a real girl who made mistakes and good choices and tried to learn from each. I’m flawed and that doesn’t matter because I’ve worked to be the best mom I can be, to give them the best of me but not keep the worst from them. I have been more intimate with them than my mom probably ever was with anyone in her life. They know me…at least I hope they do, I’ve tried to help them learn why and how I’m me. Perhaps they have baggage carriages labeled with my name, but they know we can unpack them together or they’ve been given the tools to unpack them by alone. Perhaps.

I’d like to miss my mom in a less painful way. I’d like to just miss her because I’m selfish and no longer have her in my life. But that isn’t how it is for me. I miss her for every opportunity we lost to become close, I miss her for every time she chose to “protect me” instead of trust me.
I miss her for all the silliness we experienced together, dancing to Elvis records when I was a tiny girl, the crazy ER doctor when I broke my fingers, the infamous road trip involving cows, changing clothes while driving, and Lucy Ricardo’s saxafifatronaphonovich, or the penis shaped popsicle mold she just had to have because she was amused by it.
I miss her for the moment she actually did comfort me, when she held me in her lap in the rocking chair when my beloved kitty of 16 years died.
I miss her for the relationship she didn’t let us have…and for the one we did have.

I’m indulging myself by feeling sad, by missing her.
She wouldn’t have the patience for this. She would yank me up and hiss in my ear: stop this! Be strong. Keep your head down and just go.
I fight the impulse to say those words to myself. I’ve learned I need to be talked to differently. I’ve learned it’s acceptable to indulge myself. I keep my emotions under constantly tight control because that’s what I was taught. But I asked why one time too many and learned only I could answer that.
So occasionally I indulge myself and open the baggage carriage and spend time unpacking…I let the tears come. I allow myself to feel every little thing I feel I accept these feelings and honor them. Then I pack everything back up in what I image are beautiful antique steamer trunks and gorgeous old traveling bags then lock the baggage carriage behind me and just go.
(It is not lost on me she would be horrified I’ve written all this, but she would enjoy the train carriage analogy and it makes me smile.)