New Hair

I took my fear of hair cuts, and decided I wasn't going to let it bother me and got new hair. Not only did I get shorter hair, I have dyed my hair two different shades of brown in the last three months, and this is what I have decided is my favoite.

What do you think? Good?

PSA for my Children

Dear Darling Demonspawn,

There are going to be a vast number of things you'll be able to get away with in your lifetime. I am not always the most observant person in the room. Heck, there are days I forget about the tattoo I have on my foot, and it's only been there a couple of months. I can look for a book, a kitchen utensil, or my wallet for an hour or more and not realize it's directly in front of me. I lose my glasses when they are on my face.

So that tattoo or navel ring you might decide to get when you are old enough to do so without my consent may go unnoticed. You will probably be able to sneak out once or twice and I will be none the wiser. Clean your room by throwing everything under the bed or in the closet? Yeah, that's gonna take me a few minutes to figure out.

However.

If you go from looking like this:

To looking like THIS:

Telling me you didn't think I would notice is not going to work.
I was born in the morning, but not THIS morning!

Love you even when I want to lock you in your room for forever,
Mommy

Hmmmm...

Grief is itself a medicine. ~William Cowper

Somedays, the only memories you’ll have are the happy ones.

Somedays, the only memories you’ll have are the sad ones.

Somedays, you won’t think about any of those memories and that will make you feel like a  terrible person.

Occasionally, you’ll cry.

Occasionally you’ll laugh.

Occasionally you’ll wonder if you are supposed to be laughing yet.

From time to time, you might feel as though you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Once in a while you’ll remind yourself that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.

Once in a while, you’ll realize you would have preferred for it to have killed you.

Grief is hard. 

People say it gets easier. That you can work through it. That one day, it won’t be nearly as difficult as it seems today. What people forget to mention is that there is no timeline set in stone for it. We go on with our lives, despite wishing we could go back and freeze time. To a time without goodbyes. Without that empty seat at Thanksgiving dinner. 

We move onward and upward waiting for that day we’ve been promised. The day that it’s easier. Some of us cope by throwing ourselves into our work, our homes, our hobbies. Some of us cope by talking with a friend, or a shrink. And some still, they cope by not coping at all. 

The day we’re waiting for? That easy day? It will come. And the day after that day, may not be as easy, but there will be another good day after that. Many, many days where the pain seems to leave. Days we don’t feel as if the world is crashing in around us with no one around to help dig us out of the rubble. 

And eventually, over an indefinite number of days, weeks, months and even years, the breezy carefree days will out number the bad ones ten fold. The days when you just want to lie in bed under the covers blocking out everything around you will be few, and far between. 

Grief is hard, and yet I cannot think about it as something inherently bad. For me, I can’t help but think the amount of sorrow I feel over someone’s passing is in direct correlation with how much joy and love they added to my life. That, my friends, is the reminder we sometimes need in order to find the days that it’s going to get easier.

Validating my "I'm a Dork" post label...

There is exactly one turn required to get from Paul's grandparent's house to the store.
On one of my first visits, I went to the store under the impression that not even I could screw up the driving directions "And turn left at X street."

Guess what?

Thanks to mindless driving and listening to Dave Matthews serenade me, I did.

When I told Grandpa that I had missed my turn because I was listening to Dave and told him what song it was, he laughed at me. And then pretended it was normal.

So now? This will always be our song.

One Fish, Two Fish...

As far as in laws go, I'm damn lucky.

It's a good thing they are all pretty great, because there's a lot of them. Life could be awkward and more stressful if they sucked.

I could name specific life events in which different members of the Paulo's family have not liked me (and rightfully so with valid reasons to feel that way), except for Grandpa.

If at any time I was on his bad side, I didn't know it. He just accepted me for me from day one. Over the last nine years, we've discussed power tools, fixing up boats, random events from the newspaper, sweet Vidalia onion salad dressing, and most recently how delicious a meal of beans and cornbread is.

Last month, he spoke at the funeral of his sister in law. While I didn't know Aunt Donna at all, listening to Grandpa talk about how that family accepts everyone and is always happy to make room for one more person, I cried. And I do not usually cry at funerals. After the funeral, I told him I was mad at him for making me cry. I also talked to him about a conversation many years ago, where he told the Paulo I was a bluegill. I know it means I'm a "keeper", but given my irrational fear of fish, had anyone else made that statement I would have been offended.

Six days ago, after complications during surgery on his back, one of the most amazing people on earth went home to be with Jesus. I don't think that devastated is a strong enough word to describe how the entire family is feeling right now. I am not even a blood relative and just thinking about him being gone is enough to take my breath away. I want to wake up tomorrow and have this week be some really terrible dream.

It won't. The best I can do is work toward handling the news with the same grace and innocence of Zoe. She said, and I quote:

"I know we'll see G-pa again when we get to Heaven, but I'm sure gonna miss him until then."

Me too, baby girl. Me too.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

We're home. And no longer jet lagged.

Thank goodness.