End of the school Year & Canada Day

We had our annual PJ & Screen day to kick off the summer.

 

 

 

 

V started swim team 3 x a week.  Only lightning will stop practice....

 

 

She walked in the town's Canada Day parade with the swim team handing out candy to spectators.

 

Then we met up with family at the park to watch the fireworks. C waited with a funnel cake.

H lit up the night until the fireworks started.

 

 

What I've been busy doing....

I got purple hair. Probably just for the summer, then I'll be back to brown, I think.

I've tried two paint parties.

 

 

 

Spring 2017

V had a busy spring at school.

The garden is happily growing back after a long winter, including a rouge parsnip...

We added stepping stones we made of cement and colorful stones from the dollar store.

The farmer's market started back up and there was a competition to build a Inukshuk out of vegetables and submit a picture to win a prize.

 

The next week the kids could get a free planter with a strawberry plant, basil plant and grape tomato plant.

We took V's friend with us.

 

H decided we needed to make an apple pie after seeing the baskets of apples at the farmer's market.  He declared using the slicer peeler made it the "most fun chore ever."

 

The kids rebuilt the Gnome Town better than ever after the tree disaster back in March, but this time in a safer place next to the house.  Notice the hand hewn log fence by C.

 We put lattice on an existing side fence to add some privacy for the hot tub.  We'll still need to redo the gate, but this will provide some much needed privacy.

I had a lovely Mother's Day with lots of gifts from the kids.

We did some home improvement to try to warm up our basement.

We put in a REAL door including frame in the back of our closet, which is the door to the cold cellar.

 

We added insulation under the stairs.

 

We reconnected a return air duct that had been disconnected when our basement was remodeled by the previous owners.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandparents

In the midst of finishing up the school year in June, my maternal grandmother passed away.  I flew out to Washington to say my goodbyes and spend time with her and other family for a week.  Grandma was 84 and the toughest gal around.  We thought for sure she’d outlive us all and was fine when I saw her at Christmas.  About 2 months previously she developed a platelet disorder that caused uncontrolled bleeding and bruising. Traditional therapies were not working well so she’d been in and out of the hospital.  Due to complications from one of the drugs she was on, she was susceptible to an infection that ended up in her brain and left eye and she went on hospice Monday the 12^th and was able to get home on the 13^th as my dad’s a hospice nurse at the hospital she was in for her latest visit and was able to pull some strings to get her home very quickly.  I arrived to see her Tuesday afternoon when she was still recognizing us and able to tell us she loved us and that she was ready to go.  She was comatose Thursday and Friday afternoon, 10 minutes after her last requested visitor arrived, she stopped breathing and passed away.  They celebrated their 63^rd wedding anniversary on Monday with a priest to bless their marriage at the hospital and all their 7 children surrounding them. I think the entire time I was there the least amount of family & friends in the room was 3.

 

Grandma had a huge garden that was her pride and joy.  She canned fruits and vegetables (her dill pickles were the best in the world, hands down).  She was a lively dancer who preferred polkas.  She once danced on a broken toe for 2 weeks because taking care of it would have interrupted her dance schedule.  She danced in parades, she did road trips, hikes and was always very busy.  She would say it kept her out of trouble.  She did charitable work driving people who couldn’t drive themselves or delivering food or rent checks to those who needed them or visiting those who couldn’t get out and about as well as they used to.  She made meals out of the garden and what was available and it was always from scratch and delicious.  She would poke fun at us all to help us develop a tough skin, but was good natured about taking as well as she gave. 

 

As she and grandpa always said, they were never rich, but always had enough.  They had 7 children and had a special relationship with each one. 

 

One of the hardest things about living away from a family that you are close to emotionally is figuring out what to do when you get “the call.”  My paternal grandfather was our first experience-just a few months after we’d moved to Canada.  After much soul searching we decided that no matter the cost, when we get the call that “you need to come” I get on a plane.  I don’t take the kids, just me (this could change as they get older), but I come and I sit and I spend time while they are still with us.  I do not go back for the funeral.  The decision we’ve made for us is that it’s more important to us to spend the time while they are still alive, esp if they are still able to know what’s going on around them than to spend time at the funeral.  I’m lucky to have a family that is much loved and I know that the church and funeral service will be packed with family and friends and know that my presence while it would be appreciated, will not be sorely missed.

 

My grandfather ended up living on 2 more years, but that time I spent with him and grandma was my official goodbye and I’ll never forget that time.  While I still got to see him over the following  years, with children around and everything else, the week that we were mostly alone, just grandma, grandpa and I, was really our farewell tour and the time we took to say what was important and just BE with each other.

 

Going to WA for my grandmother in June was a little different.  We knew (rather than thought) that this would be the last chance.  There was no chance for long, deep conversations as grandma was very unwell and had a short amount of time to visit with the many people who wanted to hold her hand and speak to her.  I came back not only to pay my respects to a great woman, but also to go through the process.  I’m getting to an age (nearly 40) where I’m realizing I’ll at some point need to go through parents passing away, a spouse passing away, a friend passing away.  This was an opportunity where I could go experience the process first hand, but others were “in charge” (my mom, aunts and uncles) so I could be more of an observer.  I don’t know that I was surprised by anything in the whole process with regard to logistics.

 

I was surprised that rather than being sad my grandmother was finishing her life, I was sad for those left behind, especially my grandfather.  I thought I would be mostly sad thinking of wonderful things that had happened with my grandmother and sad that those would be the end of our journey together.  What made me sad however, was seeing my grandfather’s anguish at being left behind (especially when he’d probably spent a good 50 years or so believing that she would outlive him and being given about a week or month to have to realize this would not be the case).  I also felt a huge sadness for my aunts and uncles not realizing HOW close they were to my grandma.  I knew she had a special relationship with each, but I don’t think I realized until the last week how deep it was with each. This was especially true with my youngest aunt.  My youngest aunt is only 4 years older than I am and lives next door to my grandparents, so for the last few years, she probably has spent the most time with my grandparents.  However, I realized in this last week, that she got the least amount of time with my grandmother of all the kids.  There’s about 8 years between my aunt and her next older sibling.  As my cousins and I sat in the room and reminisced, it was clear that my aunt always seemed like one of us because we were closer in age to her than our other aunts and uncles.  My heart broke for both my grandfather who had spent most of his life with my grandmother and didn’t seem to know what to do without her and for my aunt who didn’t seem to get enough time with her mom.

 

The other thing about the week that resonated with me was that my brother was up from Portland and I’d come, but neither of us had brought our children.  It was probably the first time in 25 years or so the 4 of us had been together without spouses or children. Just our nuclear family, reunited.  It was a little strange.  My parents were about 45 when us kids left the nest and while we’d come back for summers, we never did come fully back home after high school, so it had been awhile for just the 4 of us to be sleeping under one roof.

 

I also realized that my feelings and relationship with my grandparents is very different than the relationships and feelings my children have.  They do love them and seeing them and spending time with them, but it’s different than my experiences.  When I went to visit grandparents we slept overnight and did very different things and had different adventures than my children have with my grandparents because now my grandparents are 30 years older than when I was a child.  This trip made me realize this and that it is ok. On one hand it makes me sad that my kids have a different relationship with my grandparents, but I’m also coming closer to acceptance that while it’s different, it’s still a good thing. I’m sure my mother probably felt the same way about my great grandmother. It was very different for me to visit her in the nursing home she was at by the time I remember visiting her at age 5 and 6 than it was for her to visit her grandmother.

 My brother and I stayed with my parents.  It was the first time in a long time just us 4 had been together.  We managed to survive...

 

 

I was feeling a little melancholy waiting for my flight back to Canada, especially knowing I'd be coming back in a month with my kids and not be taking them to visit my grandma.

 

Then I got on my flight and the attendant pulled out an apron of balloons and started making balloon animals.  You know it's on Southwest!

 

Anyway,  June was a little more hectic than usual due to the unplanned week away which is why I’m catching up on blog posts out here in Washington.  I’ll get caught back up by the end of July and the next post should have lots of fun pictures.

 

More dreams = so tired!

I go through weeks where I dream constantly all night and don't feel rested when I wake up.  It used to be cyclical-I'd have a few weeks where I had them, then a few weeks off.  It's been awhile since I've had a spell, though.  Months.  Until this last week. I think they started last Sunday or Monday and have been nightly since. I think I've had one night where I only dreamt half the night.  These weeks leave me irritable as I feel like I've been doing something all night. For instance, one night I moved someone into a college dorm.  Last night I was on a road trip.  I can't remember all the dreams, usually just pieces of the one right before I wake up.  I fall asleep, hit REM and dream, then awake, change position, dream, awake, change position.  The good news is now I fall right back asleep (I didn't always-sometimes I'd awake for a few hours, then go back to sleep).  However, falling back asleep means falling into another dream. 

I asked my husband if it drives him crazy to have me tossing and turning all night.  He is more of a night owl than I am (well, he's the night owl I used to be before kids necessitated someone waking up at a decent hour to get them off to school) and he also sleeps more deeply.  He's actually a little jealous of my dreaming.  He says when he dreams he feels more well rested and peaceful.  He joked that maybe he's got all his inner baggage worked out and maybe that's why I dream more than him.

You'd think I'd awake refreshed, aren't dreams your subconscious way of working things out?  Apparently not necessarily for me.  However, last nights' did feel better.

Last nights' dream is sticking with me this morning. I was on a road trip.  Some 8 hour roadtrip with just I and the kids, no Paul.  I may have even driven to pick them up?  Anyway, right before waking I'd gone to church with my grandma (my Dad's mom) since I was at my destination and was preparing to get ready to drive back and her church had gone in the mega-church direction-I don't know that the female pastor was even there in the church or preaching from somewhere else-anyway, it was very impersonal and on a huge projector screen.  At the end, she was admonishing me about coming into the church (I cannot recall if she listed a specific reason-maybe it was my dislike of really large churches?) I looked around and the only congregation left was about 30-45 people who were from churches I'd attended over the years, mostly LWUMC.  She was saying something about if anyone stayed to support me that they'd not be welcome back.  These churchgoers from my past (and a few who have been sure to talk to me whenever they see me in my current church) all stayed.  They defied the pastor on the screen who seemed shocked that they would side with me rather than her about whatever my transgression seemed to be.  I had a feeling of love. I hugged every one on the way out of the church and we all sat and had coffee out of fancy teapots that I believe was spiked with Kaluha or Bailey's, lol. 

It got me to thinking as I lie there in bed seeing that the light was starting to come in around the blinds.  I do feel bound to a church family who I'm sure thinks of me time to time even though I'm away. Every time I go home to visit they all ask when I'm coming back and are genuinely happy to see me.  I imagine I will seek this even more in the coming years as my parents retire and sail off into the sunset as my brother has also moved out of the area.  I still have friends in the area and I'm sure we'll make an annual pilgrimage as we've done since moving here. I am trying to integrate with my church family here.  I've been attending the church we got married in and the people do try to make conversation and be nice.  I know that I need to do more non-Sunday stuff to get to know people better in small groups as well as have better attendance.

Anyway, enough about seeking meaning of the dream (I have my ideas that I'm not ready to share) it did leave me with a feeling of peace and of being loved even from afar, so for that I'm thankful.  The dreams will finally leave when I've become so exhausted that I can't even dream anymore and I'll go back to dreamless sleep (whether I'll sleep through the night or not remains to be seen-my sleep patterns have never been great despite my best efforts as an adult now that I NEED my sleep).  Until then I'll nurse my large morning coffee, drop words from my sentences (the first thing to go with lack of sleep) and be a little cranky.

Holding babies

I just spent the last week holding my college roommate's baby.  She has waited so long for the right man to come along and has moved in with him, married him and had a baby all within 18 months!  Her husband reminds me of Paul in so many ways.  Good and bad, lol.  When we talk about our relationships we have plenty of common ground, let's just say that!  Now she's had a baby.  I'm so happy for her.  She'd been so good about coming out to WA to visit when I just had too many little kids to make the trip to Chicago despite dozens of promises to do so.  She'd finally realize it wasn't going to happen unless she came out.  We'd go wine tasting, to visit the San Juans, etc.  Nice long, girl's weekends that would remind me who I was besides just a wife and mother.  She adored my funny kids, held my babies.  I remember being on one weekend in the San Juans and we were in the B&B hot tub drinking wine and looking at the stars and talking about life in general and I said something about "when you have kids"  she stopped me and said something profound, "do you realize you are the only one who says 'when' you have kids to me instead of 'if'"?  I could tell it meant a lot to her that I was holding on to the dream for her.


My friend is one of those that is so weaved into your life you can't imagine a time before knowing her.  You may not talk daily or even go months without talking, but when you do the connection is instant and you just pickup where you left off.  You know that no matter what the connection will be there, even though  you live thousands of miles away.  As our lives have woven we've sometimes seen each other several times in a year (this year) or not in person for several years, especially because our "stages" of life have not been in sync.  Our paths have woven different ways and it's a joy in the moments when they weave close enough for a visit and we are able to come together, and we are both patient in the times when they are further away.

Because of this weaving back and forth I was a little (not totally!) surprised when she asked me to be the matron of honor at her wedding (she was at mine-now I'm wondering how surprised she was when I asked her-I've never asked!)  I've been back to Chicago now, where I went to school for 2 years, 4 times in the last year-her bridal shower/help her move in with her husband last summer when I came for a few days, then P and the kids joined (we went to dinner, but the kids were so tired they slept through the meal), her wedding that I attended with P and now to visit her baby.

Visiting a new baby.  Is there anything sweeter?  She'd been texting the typical new mom stuff, "he's crying! I'm crying! I can't set him down! I'm losing my mind!"  I went back into the recesses of my mind to offer assurances that all this was normal and would not last forever.  Frankly I went through it so long ago (about 5-6 years!) that I barely remembered it and had to look up some stuff like growth spurts and breastfeeding tips online.  I knew, now being on the other side, that things will work out but I also remember the desperate exhaustion, the emotional roller coaster, etc.

I came to meet him.  He was fussy (by day 4 I finally remembered having a few months when my own babies lived in a front pack) but not colicky and, typical baby, wanted to eat all the time, be held, and was still figuring out what made him happy (he'd not quite figured it all out yet, explaining the crying).  Oh, but he smelled that sweet milky baby smell and sighed those sweet baby sighs of peaceful sleeping on an adult and had those tiny hands, feet and small facial features that make a woman's ovaries cry out in ecstasy.  I adored the days of cuddling and she was very happy having someone home with her, someone to try different ways to stop him from crying, being able to take a shower, nap, interview nannies, etc.    It was a very good visit of mutual appreciation. I appreciated the days of snuggling a baby I thought were gone (my "baby" will be 7 and I don't have any other friends sowing their seeds at the moment) and she appreciated someone who had lived through this completely overwhelming stage of life and lived to tell the tale.

Another friend texted while I was there asking if my ovaries were in fact screaming and I can honestly say they were not.  For many years after having my last baby, they did ache when handing back a new baby but I've come to terms with our being done with that stage.  I always say if the universe handed me a baby I'd gladly take it, but I'm done seeking it.  My body is done having babies and I'm enjoying the people that my kids are becoming.  I always thought 4 kids would be a lot and have found 3 children (2 of them high energy!) is what my sanity can handle and I feel busy when all 3 are home.  I like that I can enjoy all of them without the distraction of the immense amount of time and energy a baby takes.  I am sleeping as much through the night as an almost 40 year old can and when I'm not tired, I have patience and enjoy them. There's a kind of maturity I've found at the stage in life I'm at (school aged children-the oldest almost junior high age) that's peaceful. The weekend reminded me of this.  However, I did find I was able to have patience with a baby that I didn't have when I was in that stage, and even with a crying baby on the other side of the wall from my guest room 3 times a night, the last two nights I was there, I slept more soundly than I had in a few months.


We cried upon parting because it was such a good visit.  She joked that I may have to stay until she hired a nanny, but I know she's got this.  She's got a good partner, she's a wonderful mom (she just may not fully realize it yet, but I hope when she gets to the stage I'm at, she will!)  I'm so glad I went.  It gave me a peace I've not felt in awhile (I go through stages where I feel "unsettled" for weeks at a time and I'd had one before leaving).  I'm glad P talked me into taking a plane ticket for Mother's Day.  It turned out to be the perfect gift. 

The Dream

I just returned from several days visiting a friend and her new baby. I will write a post about it, but something just happened so jarring that I need to write about it instead.  I've just been waken up by the second dream I've had about my late grandfather.  For the second time I've awakened in suffocating, jagging sobs that shock and startle my poor, sleeping husband.

Grandpa was a quiet, reliable, calm figure in my childhood.  My saw my grandparents, my father's parents usually at least once a month.  They lived in a good sized house with backyard in NE Tacoma, WA. They'd bought  the land and built the house 50 years prior when the land was just being developed for houses.  A school ended up across the street and they ended up adding on to the house when more children filled it than seemed comfortable. Grandpa had a large garage with every tool imaginable and could usually be found out there making something useful for Grandma or a toy or gift for one of us many kids and grandkids.  Grandpa worked for an airline and grandma stayed at home.  They had 5 children including my dad as well as a huge amount of foster kids over the year (If I'm remembering correctly it was over 40).  Grandpa was a quiet man who loved children and had a sly sense of humor you'd miss unless you were paying attention.  Grandma has always been the talker in the relationship.  Shortly after we moved to Canada, Grandpa had a hard fall and things looked so bad I was urged to come home and see him.  I bought a next day ticket and spent a week with him.  He'd had a brain bleed and wasn't speaking but seemed happy to see me.  During the week hospice was called in and the family had a meeting with him sitting among us.  The next day he started to speak, slowly and garbled, but he seemed a bit ticked off we'd called hospice on him.  He lived another two years just to show us he could.

I'd  told Grandma while I was visiting that the trip was my good bye to him and if there was a funeral, I wouldn't be back for it (I didn't know at the time he'd live another 2 years!)  She told me they had so many friends and family it would be alright. We both agreed it was better for me to visit grandpa while he was alive.  Grandpa recovered enough from the incident that I, P and the kids were able to visit with him a few times more and he'd be happy we'd come but not really say much.  Then, while my mom was visiting in January after a Christmas we were in Canada, we got word that Grandpa had passed away.   Since my mom had just been out I decided not to attend the funeral.  I'd always assumed I'd go.  I thought it would be great to hear stories about Grandpa I may not had heard, but I had already said my goodbye and I talked to my Grandma stating as much and saying if she needed me there that I would go. We agreed again that she would have plenty of support and I could stay home. (She did, the church was packed). I didn't cry. I was sad, but I actually took it fairly well.  It's not like it was sudden.  His health had been declining over the previous 2 years and I'd said my goodbyes and made peace with it. I thought.  The U of WA has his body for Parkinson's research and should give it back for cremation sometime in the next 3 years. Hopefully that will coincide with a trip we can join to spread his ashes at Paradise on Mount Rainier.

Now, though, I've been awakened by a 2nd dream of Grandpa.  2 in the last 18 months.  It's been awhile since the first one. I dreamt about him so vividly that first time. I was shocked at how real the dream seemed and shocked at my reaction of crying so violently upon waking up.  It stuck with me for a few days.

This morning there was more of a dream context.  I'd driven down to visit grandma very early in the morning before work to deliver a birthday present.  I was surprised to see her as well as my parents and an uncle from my mom's side of the family that has been helping to care for my other grandparents (my grandparents had a bit of a health scare over the last month, so I've had them on my mind a lot).  I slid the gift over the counter to keep the surprise.  I was chatting with them and suddenly noticed Grandpa sitting with us.  He was very small, like the size of my daughter, quiet, but sitting next to grandma.  Everyone went away but  Grandpa and I gathered him up in my arms and held him like the baby I'd been holding over the last week.  He was the size of a child, but very light.  I walked him over to where Grandma was getting dialysis (ok, I'd fallen asleep after watching John Oliver's show about dialysis eating more caramel M&Ms than I should have and a bottle of cider-probably not the most conducive way to fall into a deep, restful sleep).  I think she mentioned something casually about me holding him. She didn't seem surprised and mentioned he'd shown up about a week ago. Didn't say anything to her, but was very comforting and stayed with her.  I was shocked she'd not said anything and was asking her, "tell me what you know about this?  He's here?" etc.  I kept asking her questions and she was silent.  I realized she'd died talking to me and then Grandpa was also gone.  He'd come to get her.  I woke up sobbing.  I don't think it was because Grandma had died, I think it was so vivid and lovely to see him and get to hold him and so sweet of him to come for her so she wouldn't be scared.  Their love was always like that and it seemed like a very plausible thing for him to do.  I woke up the same way I'd waken up from the first dream, with such a longing to see him it hurt.

I probably had the dream because I'd talked to Grandma the day before and my other grandparents the day of and had spent the week holding a sleepy baby of a friend who knows me well and my Grandparents.  I just never seem prepared for it.