Oh wait, I need to back this up…. WAY up.

Back in February I learned my grandma was ill, in and out of the hospital. I won’t go into details, but I will say we all had faith she would pull through this. When I say my grandma was someone we expected to live forever, I mean it. She was still driving a motor home at age 79. She had no limitations. She took amazing care of my grandpa who has had a lot of health issues since he broke his back 20 years ago, to include rods slipping from his back surgery, major heart attacks, and Parkinson’s. My grandma cooked him 3 hot meals a day, kept the house spotless, the laundry immaculate, gave him all his medications, and still found time to do the daily crossword. Her mother lived to be 88 and died peacefully at home, in her sleep. I expected another 10 years out of my grandma, at least. Unfortunately, the treatment that was supposed to make her better, made her worse before it could make her better, and she just was too sick to handle the backslide. She passed away Monday. She was a little over 6 weeks away from her 80th birthday.

With Bobby in Afghanistan, and the funeral on the other side of the country, there was just no way I could make it. So I have been in a pretty bad mood. I am mourning the loss of my grandma, missing my husband, not getting much sleep at night, and my patience is completely shot. Just normal kid behavior is driving me up the walls. Now, add to that errands at Lowes, Costco, and K-Mart. Now sprinkle in 2 hours, two trips back into the store with a fussy baby, a major headache, and a Facebook friend invite from my dead grandma. Wait, what? Yes. I got a friend request from the afterlife.

My grandmother was a pretty hip woman, and had been on Facebook for over a year in order to keep updated on pictures and goings on with her friends and family. My mom isn’t even on Facebook (but my dad is), so I thought it was maybe a memorial page added by one of her two daughters because they didn’t know her password or something. So I added it, and sent a little note asking who was managing the page, and I get this back “it is me lois how r u”. So now I am pissed, what kind of sick joke is this? I don’t recognize the email, the birthday is wrong (’56, by 1956 my gma had already had my dad and his sister, and they were in school), but the name is right, and the profile picture is directly stolen from her profile.

About this time I get an IM from my cousin, who also could not get to the funeral. She says the person added her, and like me she assumed it was a memorial page. But then gets an IM from the person claiming they have “exciting news”. K wishes she had played along with it, but obviously was so shocked by it all she told the person off and they unfriended her. She tried to report the page to Facebook, but the request has to come from my grandma’s profile. My aunt reactivated the profile just to report it, but as of 19 hours after creation, the profile is still there. I have contacted all the people that received a friend invite, but cannot find any other way to get this profile removed. I am going to give this person the benefit of the doubt and say they didn’t know that the profile belonged to someone who had passed away 48 hours earlier, and they did not set out to freak out the only two granddaughters who could not attend her services, but still, what kind of jerk makes a fake email (the email was created using the name of my gm’s niece, also a FB friend), then a fake profile, and then tries to pass themselves off as someone else? Whoever you are FB-impersonator, I hope you are ready for a big old heaping spoonful of some negative karma.

To all of our surprise, she kept running and then flung herself into his arms, holding onto him tightly. He picked her up and hugged her and started walking towards us with Sophie still in his arms. He told me he was pretty surprised how social she is, he expected her to be somewhat shy. I explained that she was really missing her daddy right now, so she’s a bit more affable right now. I think this statement made the doctor a little heartbroken, he has three little girls himself and could not imagine having to be away from them. To all the daddies (and mommies) out there, missing their sons and daughters, you have my complete sympathy. Especially to our troops, who not only risk their safety for our freedom, but miss out on time with their loved ones.

Oh, and Liam got a clean bill of health. She told me to take him off the albuterol, but to finish the antibiotics. His lungs sound fantastic, and she didn’t think a follow up with neurology or pulmonology is necessary. She did say he is at a slighter risk of developing asthma when he’s older, but given his family history, that comes to no surprise. We will just watch and wait and when another round of illness comes rolling through, you can guarantee I will be watching him like a hawk.

I think as parents we all have irrational fears about our children. With my first baby I remember him sleeping past his normal 3am feeding time and waking up at 4am with engorged breasts and sobbing that my baby must have passed in his sleep. Rationally I knew he would eventually sleep through the night, irrationally I just knew SIDS must have claimed him. My husband was in boot camp and when he called the Sunday after that instant I burst into tears when I told him our boy was sleeping through the night. He also probably got an emotional letter in the mail as well.

Then my oldest son came into our life and I was always scared his birth mom was going to come steal him away. I knew her better than that, and I trusted her, but I was always so scared that I would pick him up from school and they would explain to me that he had already been picked up by the non-custodial parent.

Then my third baby came along, and I found something else to be irrational about. I wish I could remember, but he made it out of infancy unscathed. Our fourth baby, our first and only girl was born, and she scared me so bad that I would not allow my husband to get a vasectomy until she made it safely to her second birthday, ergo the reason we got our fifth and final child.

Today I was researching pediatric pulmonologists, allergists, and pediatric neurologists. EEGs, seizures, and breath holding spells (BHS). Logically, I know this was likely an isolated incident. Irrationally I have myself convinced I need to have him looked over by a room full od specialists. I think of unnecessary poking and prodding, tests, and procedures and I just cannot make myself put my little boy through this for something that happened one time.

When I heard my husband’s voice tonight, I realized I was still wearing my brave mask. I was falling apart and not allowing anyone to see it. I have not taken time to allow myself to process the fear; to deal with the feelings, and to let myself admit how scared I was. I can still close my eyes and see the events of Friday night so clearly in my mind. The moment where I realized something was wrong. I wonder if I was as calm when I called the emergency dispatcher as I remember myself sounding. When I remember back to that night, I am on the outside, looking in. I cannot remember a single moment where I was ever that scared before.

I remember moments when my husband was in Iraq, and I heard about a casualty from his unit on the news. The fear I felt when he explained to me a building he was next to exploded and shrapnel was hitting his vehicle and it sounded like hail. I remember when helicopters I thought he was on went down, and then I did not hear from him for 20 days. I still cry at movies where they talk about the war, military casualties, or when bagpipes play “Taps”. But if I have to put this in perspective, the fear I felt that night is 100x worse. I didn’t let myself feel it though. Now that he is over the hurdle, and all he has is a lingering cough as he continues to work the crud out of my lungs, I find myself going back to that moment, and I find myself wanting to fall apart.

So tonight when Bobby called and asked how the kids were and then asked how I was, I started crying. I am a mess. And I feel SO guilty for feeling this way while so many people have dealt with so much worse. My heart goes out to all the parents who have had to face the loss of a child, or a spouse. For those who have children with chronic illnesses or disabilities. For anyone who has had to hear that they, or a loved one has a terminal illness. So tonight, when I allow myself to cry, and to allow myself to process the events of this last week, I will be thinking of everyone else who has also had to put on a brave face while they were falling apart inside.

Also, the cats. Christopher’s job is to feed the cats and clean the litter boxes daily. Yet if I don’t nag, it does not get done and then they seek out my towels. So now every time I think I have a “clean” towel, I discover it smells like cat urine. Nice. Also, when I am trying to feed Sophia, I have three cats underfoot circling around my ankles because their food bowl is empty.

Bobby called today and I vented, I vented good. I told him how frustrated I was at their total lack of responsibility, how Austin pulled out a progress report while we were walking out the door and asked me to sign it because it was due today and I refused because we would have been late if I had to stop everything and look it over before I sign it. I am just plain sick of it.

So I told my husband how I was half tempted to load up the three cats and two dogs in the van and take them to a kennel for the weekend and board them. How tempted I am to tell the kids that I got rid of the animals because I found them families that would take better care of them. How tempted I am to tell them that if they did not love the animals enough to feed them, water them, and provide them with a clean place to poop and pee that they will go elsewhere.

BUT that would be mean. I am not about to punish my pets, or my four year old because of something my teen & tween did. I am a mean mom, but at the same time I don’t want to teach them that lying and trickery is OK. I struggle with where the line in the sand is sometimes. I struggle daily with trying to be effective without being too mean or too nice. I struggle with making the punishment fit the crime. I struggle with too many chores vs. too little chores. I have very good kids, and I believe I have good kids because my husband and I have always worked together and tried to be consistent, we have always given them responsibility, and we have never spoiled them with toys or candy because they held their breath or stomped their feet at the store.

I think with our family spread out like it is right now we are all feeling the stress and I feel less effective because I don’t have my partner here to back me up. I think he feels helpless because he wants to help and he wants to put his foot up their butts, but from that many thousands of miles away, what can you say? “Just wait, in four months, you are going to be sorry!”? And I think the kids are struggling too, they miss their dad and it is hard to stay motivated when you are sad, I get that. I just wish they would see how overwhelmed I am carrying their load on top of my own. I need to heal this fracture, or I will crumble under the weight of it all.

I don’t think this weekend is going to be a fun one, I can tell you that! Hmmmm, I wonder if I can figure out how to set up the parental controls on the TV??

I am devastated.

***Updated with Pictures***

So Bobby and I had agreed he is out of the will, until I came up with the idea that the only thing he will get is all the stuff he has broke/ruined/marred…. at this rate, he will get more than the other three. *sigh*

Today I was slacking in the patience department. Sophie wanted to nap on my lap, I wanted to get something to eat since it was 1pm and I had not yet been able to get a thing to eat or drink… I was starting to feel shaky and irritated… I set Sophie down on her sheep skin hoping she would stay asleep, with no avail, so I just ate as quickly as possible while rocking the chair she was in. At the same time, Matthew is yelling at me because he was on meal #3 and wanted more… I kept telling him to come here so I could hear him, and he just kept hollering from across the room. I could almost feel my blood pressure rising. In a weak moment I yelled out “everybody STOP!!” No surprise that my tantrum only made things worse and I felt like I was going to collapse under all the weight on my shoulders.

I looked up and I said “Lord help me, I need a break!” and the most incredible thing happened… I smelled roses. No, I did not stop and smell the roses… I literally smelled the fragrance of roses, a smell I would recognize even 20 years later… it was the fragrance of my grandma Josie. My house that moments before smelled like pre-teen boys, cats, dogs, diapers, and lunch, now just smelled like roses. I picked up Sophie and it almost seemed to be coming out of her pores. She stopped crying and smiled and in my head I could almost hear my grandma saying “Dinky-Dinky Doo-Doo”, a little game she played with all of us when we were babies. The smell of roses was still all around me and I felt her love all around me. I no longer felt like I was alone to carry the burden and that she was here to help. You cannot imagine how strong it made me feel to know that any time I was in need, I can know I am truly never alone.

I write this while holding a baby and a preschooler on my lap, with tears welling up in my eyes. I would not have believed it if I did not experience it myself, but I now believe that even after we lose a loved one, they are never truly gone and just when things seem to be at their lowest, you can call out for help and they will be there to pick you up when you are in need.

Austin had his physical yesterday and passed his hearing test… so now we know his constant “what?” and ignoring us is not due to hearing loss, but due to him being 12 and full of pre-teen angst. Is there a cure for that??

Christopher had back to school night on Thursday, his teacher was really looking forward to having him in his class… everyone knows (and loves) Christopher. He is such a sweetie. He had no concerns about Christopher’s math abilities, so now I am confused about how he did so poorly on the placement test at the charter school.

Also, I have a new Sophie pic for you all.

I got the cutest diaper for Sophie yesterday, hopefully I will have new pics of her wearing it up soon.

Please keep Bobby & his family in your thoughts. His grandmother passed from lung cancer last week. This happened a week after she was admitted to the hospital and diagnosed.

Yesterday, when painting, we had the windows open to let in the cool air, and I guess one of the screens was damaged, because my Maine Coon mix kitty, Sabin, snuck out and he has not been seen. I hope his tummy gets hungry and he comes home soon, we all miss him so much!

I seriously do not see how I could have any more drama can come up this pregnancy.

I found out today that my midwife will no longer be delivering babies after April. I will be 36 weeks when she delivers her last baby. The OB in the office will be doing 100% of all the births from here on out. He is a great guy and all, but he is an OB and is trained to look for problems. When I interviewed him and the midwife both in the practice, I was a LOT more in sync with the views of the midwife.

I seriously think the universe is giving me a much needed kick in the right direction.

• I first started questioning my care when the conflict of the gestational diabetes came up and she refused to work with me (considering my home testing numbers, retaking the test, or declining the test all together) and then when I learned I only failed by 2 points for a condition I do not agree really exists
• The second issue was my lack of childcare, my friend moved to another state this month, a totally positive move for her, but at the same time I was losing my best friend, my support team, and the only person I trusted to be there to watch the kids when I needed her. The alternate we planned on using also let us know she would be out of town during my birthing time. I told my husband if I was having a home birth this would not be an option.
• Then we had the issue with a mandatory c-section OR induction for a breech baby, thankfully she is still head down, but I would rather have a vaginal breech delivery than an induction of a vertex on
• Today’s visit and being told the care provider I trusted to give me my ideal birth will no longer be in attendance, how much more clear can we get than that?

Monday I am interviewing a home birth midwife who is in our price range, I just pray she is a perfect fit, because this feels right.

In December, Officer Ken Jordan was killed in the line of duty just blocks from my home while trying to apprehend a suspected drunk driver. The driver decided he did not want another DUI and shot and killed the officer in cold blood. For weeks the bridge he was shot was decorated with flowers, candles, cards, stuffed animals, and frequently visited by his fellow comrades. Every time I would pass that site, I would cry.

Well, I guess today was his birthday, because as I drove by this afternoon I saw a beautiful bouquet of roses, a bunch of balloons and a huge birthday card. I grew up around our men and women in blue; my father worked for the county and we frequently visited the court house and I remember often him introducing me to this officer or that officer and I also got to tour the local juvenile facility and getting to ride in police cars. We all grew up with a huge respect for the law and for police officers.

***

In an unrelated note, my house smells like a cat box. My cat started inappropriately urinating on the dog bed, the cat beds, etc. I though he was just expressing himself in a negative way, until I noticed he was visiting the cat box every few minutes and staying there for long stretches of time with limited results. This made me almost positive it was a urinary problem of some sort and I immediately called the vet and requested a drop-off appointment. They will call me when he’s done and the kids and I will be busy cleaning today and tomorrow. I could not find my cat carrier, so he had to ride on my lap with a leash & collar and in the 10 minutes while he was in the car managed to pee on my leg. He had peed in the cat bed right before we left too.

***

General Matthew Cuteness:

Daddy was changing Matthew and he pulled a big old booger out of his nose, sticks the finger with the booger out at daddy and said “Here Dad, for you”.

~

Matthew likes to make himself burp, especially after he gets a drink, today after finishing my water he makes himself burp and it’s strained and really gross sounding and he said “Mmmmm, Juicy!” I am almost positive he was referring to the sound, not the taste as he had not had anything fruity to eat yet.

He is such a boy!!

***

Forgot to mention, Austin has his first school dance today ::Sniff, Sniff:: My baby is growing up!!

—————-
Now playing: Blind Faith – Had To Cry Today
via FoxyTunes

We got Matthew’s hair cut!

We have been meaning to get it cut for weeks now, but we kept putting it off. Finally I just said “get in the car, we are going NOW”.

He was not too thrilled about it, but there were no tears, or grumbling, just wiggling and a lot of signing and saying “help”.

I was impressed how well he did, even when she pulled out the clippers to shave the back of his neck.

Afterwards we celebrated by getting Korean food at a REALLY good restaurant here in town, and then got him his own cup of ice cream on the way home.

And yes, I even cut the back.

Terri asked me how I felt about it earlier. Yes, it looks good, and I do like it… but I am also very sad. I have always loved the long soft downy locks of hair, and I do think the long hair was so cute… but it was time. He feels so much older to me now, and I miss being able to hold him against my chest and put my fingers through his hair at night when he was sleepy… but it was time. My 22 month old baby seems one step closer to being a two year old toddler.

Grab a box of tissues before you continue, like most stories about fallen heroes and the family they left behind, this story is touching. Pictures are captions came from this website.

Katherine Cathey was expecting a phone call from her husband, Marine 2nd. Lt. Jim Cathey, so she could tell him if their baby would be a boy or a girl. Instead, she got a knock at the door — the knock every military family dreads. When his body finally arrived at the airport in the Marine’s hometown of Reno, Katherine never wanted to leave his side. ‘You take for granted the last night you spend with them,’ she said. ‘I think I took it for granted. This was the last night I’ll have to sleep next to him.’ She said about her all night vigil by Jim’s casket the night before his burial. Major Steve Beck prepares for the final inspection of 2nd Lt. James J. Cathey’s body, only days after notifying Cathey’s wife of the Marine’s death in Iraq.

At the first sight of her husband’s flag-draped casket, Katherine Cathey broke into uncontrollable sobs, finding support in the arms of Major Steve Beck. When Beck first knocked on her door in Brighton to notify her of her husband’s death, she glared at him, cursed him, and refused to speak to him for more than an hour. Over the next several days, he helped guide her through the grief. By the time they reached the tarmac, she wouldn’t let go.

When 2nd Lt. James Cathey’s body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine’s casket last year at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: ‘See the people in the windows? They’ll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what’s going through their minds, knowing that they’re on the plane that brought him home,’ he said. ‘They’re going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They’re going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should.’

Minutes after her husband’s casket arrived at the Reno airport, Katherine Cathey fell onto the flag. When 2nd Lt. James Cathey left for Iraq, he wrote a letter to Katherine that read, in part, ‘there are no words to describe how much I love you, and will miss you. I will also promise you one thing: I will be home. I have a wife and a new baby to take care of, and you guys are my world.’

On the tarmac at the Reno Airport, 23 year-old Katherine Cathey waits in a limousine next to an empty hearse, preparing to watch the arrival of her husband’s casket. Five days earlier, she learned of her husband’s death in Iraq. Two days later, she learned that her baby would be a boy.
Katherine Cathey pressed her pregnant belly to her husband’s casket, moaning softly. The baby, due Jan. 1, will be named James Jeffrey Cathey Jr.

The night before the burial of her husband’s body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of JIM.

***

On December 22, 2005 Katherine Cathey, 24, recieved an early Christmas gift with the birth of her son James Jeffrey Cathey Jr, who she calls Jimmy.

Katherine Cathey holds her son, James Jr., during a recent doctor’s visit. Katherine’s husband, 2nd Lt. James J. Cathey, was killed Aug. 21 in Iraq. Katherine, 24, is trying to save as many things as possible to show her son. “I hope he asks a lot about his dad,” she said of “Jimmy,” who was born Dec. 22. “I’m sure he will.”

I wish Katherine and Jimmy the best, and I hope they both lead full and rewarding lives surrounded by the memories and love from their fallen hero.