off to Grandma's

My lifestyle’s making me insane. Tag-team parenting is bullshit; I want full days with the three of us. I can handle being a working mom, but not a double working mom. It’s great we’ve had design work lately but working evenings and weekends and plopping Molly in front of videos is freaking me out. Also, my house is a pit of filth. I’m feeling so torn in half right now. Molly’s been on a half-assed nursing strike, so I’m spending as much time as I can skin-to-skin in bed with her to encourage her to nurse. The past couple days the only time she’ll nurse is going down for a nap, during the nap, and waking up. So we’ve had a couple of marathon feedings and then nothing in the afternoon and evening. There are also new and exciting Biting–Ouch-Unlatch-Wait-Relatch-Biting-Repeat rituals. I broke down in tears yesterday, worried I won’t figure this out and she’ll wean early. My dad called yesterday, and I told him she has four (almost) teeth and he said, “So breastfeeding’s over?” I said, “No it means mama has to be brave…hahaha.” I thought at the time, “Gods he doesn’t know me very well at all”- somewhat unfortunate but true. Now, however, I’m quickly gaining sympathy for all my friends who weaned when their babes grew teeth.

I have so much to do this weekend, so the Birdie’s been with the grandies for a while now. I don’t want to let go of her right now for a minute. She’s changing so fast, and she’s wanting cuddle time less and less. Every minute seems heartbreakingly precious, and I resent every one I can’t spend with her.

So when my aunt just called and told me that she needs me to take shift at Grandma’s, I was secretly thrilled*. (She has a sprained ankle and the other’s mending from a break. She has a wheelchair now, and needs someone there all the time since last weekend.) She goes to bed really early, and might be asleep when the baby and I get there. I can spend the evening watching actual cable TV and being unable to work- and therefore unable to feel guilty. We’ll make breakfast in the morning and then turn her over to my brother for Sunday afternoon.

We’re having a family meeting Friday to discuss how to get her into a care home. I’m so relieved that this is her idea. I do think she’ll be happy with a small community of her contemporaries, and I’ll feel so much better knowing she’ll have round the clock care. I really wish she could come live with me, but there are so many reason’s it’s not feasible. I think she’ll be happier soon, and I hope I’m not painting a pretty picture out of something that’s not what I think.

It’s all an unknown right now… I miss my mom so bad I can’t stand it right now. My grandma is my link with her, and my aunt and brother. That small family is so important to me. We aren’t spending enough time together- another stress point.

So I’m going to pack up the Boue and head to Grandma’s. Just talked to her and she’s up- yay:)

*ETA: Secretly thrilled? Why secretly thrilled? It's not like Grandma's a chore. We had a good time, except for the part where I cried and cried lying in the bedroom where Mom's hospital bed used to be. Grandma got to see Molly steps:)

arty night, the mom photos

Bu was at the photo lab today picking up a job, and our friends let us know an old friend was in from Brooklyn to show his new work at the school gallery where we all got our BA's. We decided to go have Middle Eastern food and see the work.

It is awesome. He used to sandblast tomb stones for a living, and his work is on marble, and it's images of graffiti and found objects and junk food. So weird and brilliant to juxtapose this random stuff that we see as a casual, un-thought of texture in our environment and use permanent heavy material to frame it in a new way.


This is his site.

Molly enjoyed herself thoroughly. She feasted on hummus, eaten off my fingers, and we got to see a lot of old friends who'd never met her.

My friend brought me the photos of mom that turned up at the lab.


These are the Yayas, mom leaning out in the top left:

This is mom and her best friend, a.k.a. Molly's LaLa, on her right:

It's so amazing to have this sudden little surprise of her smile out of nowhere.

mom

The craziest, most serendipitous thing happened:

My souster (bestest friend, soul+sister=souster) works in a photo lab, and she called me to tell me she and our friend were printing a set of snapshots, and the women in the photos really reminded them of the YaYas (my mom's girlfriends.) They looked closer, and realized they were the YaYas and my mom was in some of the pictures. I asked her if there was any ethical way to get me a set of the photos, and they'd already contacted the woman and told her who I was and gotten permission to give me a set.

It's so crazy. Mom hated being photographed, even though she was so gorgeous, so I don't have a lot of photos. These are at least seven years old, so it's just crazy this lady happened to find them and decide to print them. Then, she took them to souster's lab, which is unlikely because they usually do high end processing for professionals and I doubt they get too many snapshots like that.

It's freakin' awesome. I can't wait to post some photos.

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I've been dreaming about Mom again, and they are disturbing lucid dreams where she's alive and I know when I wake up she'll be dead. Also she doesn't know she is dead, and if I mess up and let it slip she'll be gone. It's so weird. I always have to ask her why she's not dead or why she doesn't remember that she is or was sick, and there's a horrifyying scared look on her face. It's so vivid. I guess my own motherhood's bringing things up again- I used to dream this constantly.

Or it's in the stars, because a bunch of people are dealing with this. Thordora at Spin Me I Pulsate has a beautiful heart-wrenching post about her grief today. And when I talked to souster the other day, she was telling me that she and her eldest son have been missing her Dad a lot. He died the year after my mom did. The strange thing is that her little guy was just a year old when his grandpa died. He keeps talking about Grandpa like he knew him, in a sends-chills-down-your-spine, psychic and beautiful way. That kid is so amazing and cool. He's named after my mom, because souster got pregnant within weeks or so of mom's death. That was such a beautiful gift to me that she named him for her. It's a good reminder of how, in the big picture, birth and death are perfect mirrors and there's such beauty in the light and dark.

The macrocosm of death is easy to revere and understand. It's when one small, specific life is gone from you that the devastation happens. Someone who's echo keeps making patterns in your life long after they've gone.

she's my sweet potato

The sweet potatoes were a huge hit. She did really well with opening her mouth and swallowing; I was impressed. My contributions turned out pretty well, I suppose. The made-from-scratch and jello-free cranberry sauce was very tart and offended my 9 year old nephew's palate, but the grown-ups liked it. My glazed carrots could have had more glaziness, but were okay. The broccoli casserole was great. I could have eaten a ton of it, but Molly would have been pissed because broccoli-mom-milk gives her terrible gas.

After dinner with Shane's family we went to my Grandma's. She's doing really well now that she's back home. Her dementia is much better in a familiar environment. I think it's very mild, but Shane says she's more wacky than I think. Mostly she just repeats herself over and over. She had the best time playing with the baby- Molly was in the giggliest mood I've ever seen. She was just adorable.

I missed my mom so much, but it gets better and better. Molly is the best healing wonder. Being a mom makes me feel closer to my mom. I am still so close to her, it's weird maybe. I don't get into the guardian angel thing or any of that specific, religious stuff- it seems so literal and cheesy to me- I just feel closeness I guess. Like I still have a familiarity with her and a comfort about her memory that feels like the very mundane normal closeness we had when she was alive. Of course, there are times when all I feel is her absense, and it's like a fresh, wounded screaming pain that will never, ever heal. An orphaned, angry, lost feeling filled with confused denial. It just may never seem acceptable to my heart that she is gone. I think those moments are coming less often. They used to be so awful. I wince remembering the way Shane would hold me and I'd sob and shake. Now usually I have a little warm melancholy feeling, like a lingering ache but the baby will smile and I'll know her motherness is in me now as I sing and rock Molly.

(edited for a new better collage and longer entry-hre)