Who You Gonna Call?

Since my mom's gotten sick, I've had lots of time to reflect on it, on her, on our relationship.

(Quick health update: She's seen some success in shrinking the tumor, though not enough. In the meantime, she recently had a series of strokes. They're not sure why but it could be due to the cancer. The drug used for most people to temper these strokes is heavily processed through the liver, so that's not an option. But she is OK for the most part and still living on her own at home.)

The thing I keep coming back to -- the thing that will be most devastating -- are the phone calls.

I call her when I'm happy, I call her when I'm sad, I call her when I'm bored and stuck on the freeway. I mean, I literally call her every night on my way home from work. And then there are the weekend Facetimes with the kids. (and, yes, please note that I'm calling her. It's the nature of our relationship.)

I thought of it today after I took the Kindergarten tour at my daughter's future elementary school.  I saw the cafeteria, the playground, the classrooms. I walked out of the school gates and started crying. How is it possible that my little girl is now old enough to enter real school?

I thought of what brings me comfort and headed straight for Starbucks for a latte.  When I got back to the car, I was listening to lame music on the radio and thought, "I want my mom."

My mom is absolutely the first person I call when I need a hug. Usually even before my husband.

I called her when I didn't think my husband wanted to have kids (turns out he was just a little freaked out by the whole idea).  She comforted me in a way only a mom can.

A year later, she was the first person (after my husband) to find out I was pregnant.

I called her when my daughter went to daycare for the first time. "How long do you have to leave her there?" "20 more minutes." "OK, maybe go get a coffee and then it will be time to get her." 

She was right.

So it seemed only logical that I would call her today.  She was with my brother and sister in law so I didn't want to keep her long. But one of the first things she did say was, "Maybe you should get a latte to feel better." "I did. That was comfort number 1.  You're number 2." "Well, it's good to know you have priorities," she laughed.  "I don't want to keep you when you have people over." "OK, but you can call me later if you need to." "I will."

And I will -- I'll call her again tonight on my drive home.

Plan B and a Salty Girl

well, it turns out Plan B didn't take. we got the news earlier this week. basically our borrowed time is just that -- and it's unclear how much we have.

i've spent the week grieving and i anticipate that won't end any time soon.  the nice thing about knowing you're on borrowed time, however, is reflecting on all of the amazing, joyful, ridiculous moments that make up this life.

my mom stayed with us for 3 weeks recently, so of course i have stories.

while out here, my mom really wanted to pitch in w/ the kids. that was awesome. she made us dinners (that were often destroyed by one of us losing it. weeknights are hard), read them books and did laundry. so awesome!

my daughter -- nicknamed Sunny D by my sister for her cautious, kept demeanor -- was often cold to my mom.  i know it bugged my mom but there's not a lot you can do with a strong-willed girl. i shrugged it off as being 4 and told my mom as much.

one afternoon, D asked my mom to make her soup for lunch. my mom jumped at the chance to fulfill the request.  i came downstairs to my daughter sitting by her very full bowl of soup saying she didn't want it. i was a little surprised -- it's her new favorite soup -- but it's somewhat typical for a 4 year old so we made her something else.  my mom took it as another example of Salty (nee Sunny) D.

a little while later, i was cleaning the kitchen and got to the rest of the soup sitting in the pot. it looked very dense. "mom, did you add water to this?" "no, was i supposed to?" "it's condensed soup so, yes." "oh. i'm not used to that kind." (it was campbell's)

she later told my brother that she thought she had cooked down most of the liquid, which means D was basically left with a bowl of salty chicken and noodles. my mom made good with her second try: a grilled cheese.

Stage 4

It's been a long time since the last post. A lot has happened.

In the fall of last year, things came to a screeching halt.

My mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. (She's alive so don't think that this is THAT post.)

My brother canceled his trip to L.A. for my kids' birthday.

My mom canceled her trip to L.A. for Halloween -- even though she really wanted to wear her terrifying horse costume.

My daughter and I rushed to my mom's house.  By the time we got off the plane, my mom herself had been rushed to the hospital for severe pain. She spent the rest of our trip there.

She's gone through chemo and radiation in an attempt to shrink the tumor clinging to her liver.  The plan kind of worked: it shrank, just not enough.

I'm back with her now as she goes into surgery for Plan B. If this takes, she'll probably be having surgeries for the next 14 months.  If it doesn't ... I don't want to think about it.

That's the thing about this blog. I love teasing my mom for her idiosyncrasies and weird choices, I love seeing those things manifest in my everyday decision making and parenting. But at the end of the day: She's my mom. She's the one I call every day on my way home from work.  She's the one I look to -- and look exactly like.

My biggest hope right now is that she gets well so I can get back to posting her crazy stories. I love her so much.

Dear Diary ...

As we all know, my mom has a history of being, well, inappropriate. So you can imagine my utter shock when she all of a sudden told me that *her* mother tells her too many details about her sex life.

1. I don't need to know that my grandma ever had a sex life (I'm quite sure she doesn't now and I'm holding on to that no matter what).

2. Hello, Pot. Meet your mom, Kettle.

It seems my mom forgot that she told my brother the Craftmatic story. Or that she used to tell me about my dad writing in SWH (sex with husband) on her Palm Pilot calendar.  Not one to let her get away with that shit, I reminded her of the 2nd one. "How do you know that? Your dad told you?"

Yes, my dad, who was the MOST modest told me about your sexcapades. Um, no. (He would be mortified if he had known that fun fact.)

It's funny because she recently got her old diaries back (she didn't remember giving them to me back in high school either) and keeps talking about how she didn't remember things as they happened.

Also, I finally got up the nerve to read my baby book to her -- the part where it says I was induced after 2 weeks, not a month. "Well, they gave me a pill." Um, OK, yes then?

I just wish she had always kept a diary. I think her self perception would be VERY different and she might start piecing together some of the puzzle that is SJS.

Luckily for all of us, I've kept a diary for her here.

Stuck in the Middle With You

One morning, my mom, my daughter and I went out for a Girls Breakfast.  We were just chatting about the usual stuff when I got a message that my best friend -- who was pregnant at the same time as me and due that day -- had just given birth. Yay! So fun!

So my mom asked about the name. "Oh, they named her after his grandma. So her middle name is his mom's maiden name and her first daughter's middle name is her mom's maiden name."

"I think that's so stupid that people do that."

"Wait. Do what now?"

"Use a maiden name as a middle name."

Here is where I had to pause. Sometimes when you talk to my mom, you get the feeling that *you're* crazy, but then you realize that, no, she is.

"What are you talking about? I just gave my son a middle name based on his dad's grandma's maiden name. And I told you all of that when he was born [2 weeks prior]!"

She became totally flustered (but, I mean, seriously?!). "No that's a regular name."

"Crane is a regular name? Who has the name Crane besides a bird?"


And then she waved it off and I was still so stunned that we just stopped talking about it and moved on. 

Clean Up on Aisle 2

While my mom was here, she said she wantd to cook for us, which she did. That was awesome but she refused to go to the store by herself so she made me -- and my 2 week old son -- go w/ her.

We got to the store and I was fine at first and then, as any new mother would, I realized that all I could see were people's germs and then I just started feeling f'ing tired having pushed a kid out 2 weeks earlier and all.

I  told her I'd be in the car w/ my son and we'd wait for her to come out. 

I was in the car for about 2 minutes before she started calling.

"What do you like to eat w/ chicken?"

"Do you know what aisle the syrup is in?"

"Do you have your rewards card?"

So I went back in, rewards card in hand, baby strapped to my chest.

Of course, because I was so tired, I forgot to ask where the hell she was, so I waded through the sea of people with colds and such and went up and down row after row of foods until I found her ...

standing right in front of the jelly.

"Hide the Jelly and Break out the Rubber Sheets! SJS Is Coming to Town!"

That quote is from my husband once he found out my mom was coming to stay w/ us for 2+ weeks. More on what it means in a second.

See, I was pregnant w/ our 2nd kid and my mom said she wanted to be here to help us with our 3 year old during the birth. "Great!" I thought. And then she immediately booked her flight.

"When is he coming?"
"Well, I don't know. The due date is in November, but you know, the first one came early so this one probably will too. I'll know more once we start internal exams at week 37."

That, however, was apparently not good enough info and she booked her ticket somewhere in the 7th month to be here on the due date.

I reiterated that she was probably going to miss the whole show and that we'd need a back up plan. She responded, "I'm sure he'll wait for his grandma to arrive!"

My son arrived 2 weeks early.

Anyway, she came out 2 days before his due date -- and 2 weeks after he was born.

My husband is a wonderful man who has come to enjoy/tolerate her quirks over the years. One of them is that she loves jelly. She eats a lot of it. She'll go through jars of it.

The other is that she once told him she doesn't wear underwear to bed ("Everyone should air out at night!"). Not info he wanted while she slept on our couch.  Hence the quote.

The next few posts will be dedicated to her time here. There are many more stories, but I have a newborn so these few posts will have to suffice for now.

Death be not proud

My husband and I have a friend who works for the State Department and used to work for the president directly. He's one of the most generous, lovely people I've ever met. So when my dad died suddenly, our friend gave us one of the most thoughtful gifts he could have.

He had the president (of the United States!) send me a letter of condolence. Because I loved my dad and this was the president, after all, I posted the letter on Facebook.

Most people saw it and commented on what a wonderful man he must have been, how he did a great job raising us, how proud we must be, etc.

What my mom texted, instead, was:

Why did you get a note from the White House your dad was only in the service 4 years that I know of ... Just curious

"What's going on with your belly?"

My mom often has kind words for me. Though, lately, I can't recall any of them.

Earlier in the week, I sent out a first pic of my growing belly. I'm just under 3 months pregs, and, believe me, this one is making its presence known.

All pregnant women go through an "oh shit, I kind of just look fat" phase in the beginning and I'm finding it truer the second time around. I had another friend describe her second pregnancy as "the worst kept secret."

Turns out, I probably should have done those planks and sit-ups after No. 1 was born ...Alas, I didn't.

 So when I sent the first belly pic to my sister in law and mom, I expected to receive excited, sweet replies. I did -- from my sis in law, who wrote, "This just makes me smile :)"

And then I talked to my mom on the phone who, in the middle of the conversation said, "So, what's going on with your belly?"

"What? It's fine. Why?"

"I just mean it's so big for you not being very far along."

"Well, it's No. 2."

"Yeah, I don't remember that happening to me."

"Lucky you," is what I actually said. But what I wanted to say was, "Fuck you. You were 24 when you had your 2nd kid. I'm closing in on 40. And who says all of these terrible things to their kid anyway?"

She quickly changed the subject back to No. 1, about whom she still has nice things to say.

Her "Week From Hell"

Life has thrown my family some major curveballs in the last month.  On March 16, my father passed away. Two days earlier, my husband and I saw the first glimpse of our 2nd baby on an ultrasound (it all felt very Lightning Crashes).

Anyway, as you can imagine, this was (is) a traumatic time for me. My father and I were very close (no blog for him) and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Hearing the news on the heels of our baby news was even tougher. (I knew how I was going to tell him. He would have been thrilled.)

That said, it turns out there is a lot of "business" to be done when someone dies. Bills to pay, arrangements to be made, all while trying to process what the hell is going on.

My family rallied and everyone was willing to take on responsibilities and make it easier for our stepmom. My mom tried but ... just couldn't.

First, she told me that my stepmom should have decided to hold the funeral where she (my mom) lives. Not where my dad and stepmom lived.

Then, she said the dates of the funeral -- and subsequent burial (in my mom's state) -- didn't work for her. She told my brother she was "not getting any closure."

Then, in a *moment* of selflessness, she offered to buy the obit in the paper in her state (where my brother and sister also live). All she had to do was send them the info (that I had sent her) and pay the bill.

Well, this apparently was too much for her. I got 2 texts, a voicemail and another frantic call.  She couldn't figure it out, she said. She was overwhelmed, she said. She needed to lie down, she said. And then she said what I just couldn't even believe: She was having "a week from hell."

What I said, "OK. I'll figure it out for you."

What I wanted to say, "Really? You should try losing your dad while pregnant. And then deal with a mother who can't do anything for herself. That's super easy." But I didn't. What was the point? It would only make her upset -- and that was the last thing I needed to deal with (again).

The good/weird news is, she never called any of us while we went to the funeral. I think we all needed the break from her, but we all noticed. That's the thing about her, we can't stand when she butts in but we want her to at least ask. She usually doesn't.

Turning a blind eye

Earlier today, I texted both my mom and mother in law a picture of my daughter's first haircut.  My MIL sent me a private text back that read : Wow! Grown up girl! So pretty!!"

My mom, however, texted the group back with: Oh so cute at animal hospital all day Bentley blind in one eye other issues :(

first of all, yes, I'm thrilled she acknowledged my daughter first. And she has a tendency to follow up nice things with odd info about her dogs. secondly, god only knows what my MIL thinks. I don't think she knows who Bentley is and since I then sent my mom a PM, the questions may still remain.

anyway, in my PM i asked her how her dog was and what was going on. I got this response about 5 hours later:

An infection under his neck
Pusie smells terrible
Won't eat or drink or go to the bathroom -- won't move at all just wimpers (sic).

Now, i have to say, it sounds terrible. but the 2nd sentence had me laughing out loud. a lot. so much so that i sent the text to both my brother and sister.  As we all know, my mom's texting is ... well ... unusual sometimes but we also know that she lacks boundaries so who the hell knew what she meant? my brother confirmed she meant "pus" and that the dog is OK, despite my mom's diagnosis.

I'm kind of shocked autocorrect didn't catch that one (really, autocorrect? of all the things to let slip) but it gave me and my siblings a laugh, which was nice.  I'll find out more about her pup but for now the mystery of the terrible smelling pusie has been solved.

Case of the Ex

As I previously posted, my mom got divorced recently.  I'm not one to judge reactions to things like divorce and death -- there's too much happening to decide how someone else should handle it. However,  there are some things I know you're not supposed to do.

The divorce was not a pretty one. There were allegations of abuse and stalking and other generally terrifying behavior.

So you can imagine how disappointing/sad/weird/scary it was to hear that my mom was going to see her recently ex husband. Not only did she see him, she had him over to her house. While she was there. Alone.

There's always an excuse with my mom. Like, she knows her behavior warrants judgement so she just gets an excuse ready to say when you question it. This time? Well, clearly, her ex had to see their dogs.

It should be mentioned that over the years, said ex has threatened to 1. have the dogs put to sleep 2. take the dogs away.  It should also be mentioned that when I brought up the "you might not want the man you had a restraining order against in your house" she had another excuse: "well, he's already found my house online and has pictures of the inside without ever having been here." Um, not a red flag then? OK.  So, of course, it's only logicial that he would be in Minnesota on "business" and need to "visit the dogs."

I'm not sure if all of that is a euphemism for something else but I do know that it can be incredibly frustrating as her kid to watch her make terrible mistake after terrible mistake and act like she's the victim.

The ex hasn't been back to the house. But, it seems, he's now fallen ill (convenient but probably true: he's overweight, drinks and lives a stress-created life).  She's headed to florida soon to get her 1/2 of the furniture they agreed upon in the divorce. Here's to hoping he doesn't "visit the dogs" again.

Shirley You Jest

During a recent call with my mom, we were talking about my daughter's latest tricks and antics. As you'll recall, image is important to my mother, which helps explain her next inexplicable thought:

"She's ready to go shopping with us on Montana Ave. (I think she read about it in Us Weekly or something). She'll have little anklet socks with ruffles that turn down over her patent leather Mary Janes. And she'll wear little gloves and carry a purse -- she's definitely ready fora  little purse -- and ..."

In the beginning of that schpiel, my reaction was "awh" and then quickly turned to "huh?" I mean, how long has she been formulating this fantasy? She somehow turned my adorable but tough girl into Shirley Temple. But even Shirley didn't have to wear gloves to go shopping (did she?).

It should be mentioned that she has sent Mary Janes, ruffle socks and gloves since the girl was born but in my mind they were meant for some box of dress up clothes that she took out when she wasn't playing with her trains or coloring Dora books. I didn't actually think she'd be wearing them out of the house.  (Btw, this is the same girl who didn't last 30 minutes in her Christmas dress because it was "too itchy.") I'm trying to imagine what I would even say to people working -- or even walking down the street. My guess is it would be something like, "Oh she just loves to play dress up" as I hurried us off.

In the meantime, I'm sure my mother would interrupt and talk over me with something about how it was the only acceptable thing for a 2 year old to wear while shopping on Montana Ave. (she has to say the whole name, every time).  No word on whether there will be parasols but I'm sure I'll receive one before her next trip.

2013: A Year in Mom Review

According to the live posts on this blog, I skipped 2013 all together. It's not totally true -- there are many draft posts just waiting to be rewritten and published, but why not just skip that and give you the highlights?

2013 was a year of transition for my mom. She got divorced, moved back to Minnesota (where my siblings get new, blog-worthy stories *daily*) and tried to assimilate.

Highlights:

- That time we visited Minnesota and she said she deserved more time w/ my daughter than my siblings -- even though she was spending 4 days w/ her alone the next month

- That time she forgot to tell my brother he would be watching her dogs (along w/ his dogs) while she came to visit us

- That time she posted her home address on the internet and then told me she must have been hacked

- That time she told me she was saging her house b/c her dog kept barking at the stairs

- That time she complained she didn't have any money to pay bills and then told her family that if she won the lotto, she would spend it on ... a new BMW.

 - That time she taught my daughter (who calls her "Mom" b/c I do) to say, "Mom toots!" Loudly. In public.


That about wraps it up. On NYE this year, I got a text from her wishing me a happy new year. I told her 2014 is going to be a great year.

"Yes it is!!!!!!!!!!"

The Mom statues: New mom edition

i've written about all of the ridiculous statues my mom has given me over the years, but i never anticipated that having a baby would get her excited enough to find another creepy one. my husband particularly hates this one (sample of a recent convo about it: "why don't they have faces?" "would that really make it better?") but i think the sentiment behind it is sweet. i know he hopes we "lose it in the move" when we pack up our stuff this month and head to a new place, but i'm not sure i can do it. take a look for yourself.

The new Gas-X

i  have so many stories to catch this blog up on that i  have to skip them (i'm hoping to get back to them some day). in the meantime,  today i sent my mom a picture of my daughter's new favorite sleeping position: on her tummy, with her little rump in the air. this is how my mom responded:

Have to try that
Wonder if  that  relieves gas

the piano and the world's longest gestation

first off, i should mention that our beautiful baby girl was born on oct. 15 and we couldn't be happier (and by "we," i mean my husband, me and ... my mom). i will get into all of the stories that have happened since my daughter's birth, but i need to get in some other stories that happened during my pregnancy first.

i was lucky enough to have two baby showers -- one with family and one with friends. my mom, of course, decided to attend both. i was actually fine with it because throughout my pregnancy i was having all sorts of sentimental feelings about her, some of which i'll chalk up to insane hormones.

anyway, the family one was fine and she was mostly well behaved. the friend shower is another story.

first off, my mom had been bugging me about her piano in the weeks leading up to the shower. she had the piano from my childhood in her mother-in-law's house in canada. it had been there for years. suddenly, for reasons i still don't get, the piano had to be moved. my mom decided it should be moved to my apartment.

something of note: my husband and i live in a quaint two-bedroom apartment that fits us. at the time, we had a baby on the way and the baby stuff was piling up. the last thing i wanted to do was squeeze in a piano.

of course, i would love to have the piano -- if  i had the space. unfortunately, i didn't. i explained this to her, but she was unrelenting, leaving me voicemails, sending me emails and generally harassing me about it. i was so annoyed that i just stopped taking her calls or calling her back. and since we usually talk many times a week, she freaked out, thought i was dead, called my husband and called my sister to call my husband. one would think she would take the hint, but she was never one to understand or utilize subtly.

anyway, at the shower while i'm picking my mother-in-law up at the airport, my mom corners a friend of mine and says, "don't you think she should take my piano and put it here?" (pointing to a spot that is right next to my front door.) my friend, having no idea what my mom is talking about or why, said something like, "that would be nice" and tried to leave the conversation. but she didn't get far before my mom told her about the longest gestation in the history of the world: mine.

according to my mom, i was born "literally 30 days late."

once i got back from the airport, my friend pulled me aside to discuss the matters of the piano and gestation. i told her the piano was ridiculous but that the gestation thing was something my mom had created in her mind.

see, it turns out that when i got married, my mom gave me my baby book. and when i got pregnant, i actually read it.

there, in her own handwriting, it says that i was induced because i was two weeks late -- not 30 days. my mom also said that i was in the womb so long because they didn't have drugs to induce then. um, they did. and she writes about it in the baby book.

i mentioned this story to my brother (because he was also involved in stories at this shower -- more on that in the next post) who clearly remembered getting shipped to my aunt and uncle's house so that my mom could go to hospital, as *scheduled.*

anyway, i told my friend not to mention that i knew exactly how late i was born as i haven't actually told my mom that she wrote down a totally different story. i mean, she just loves telling it so much that i didn't have the heart to break hers in telling her the truth. it seems she thinks there was some sort of extra bond between us because i was with her 30 extra days. who am i to tell her our bonding time was only half of what she thinks?

i'll just let her go on believing her story. and holding onto the piano, which is now being shipped to her condo in fla.

they just start low, too

well, despite grandma's "bible trick," it turns out we're having a girl! i know! it's so crazy and we can hardly believe she'll be here in 3 1/2 months.

this news, of course, has been settling in since we found out, but one of my first thoughts was  "oh crap. someday she's going to write a blog about how crazy i am."

the fear of having a girl was swift: girls get pregnant, teenage girls are horrible people, girls might love their mothers but they resent becoming them, etc., etc.

my mother, of course, could not be happier about this outcome. there was an audible shriek when i told her the news (she also went right into telling me about her sick dogs -- again) and she has since created a nickname for the baby and spends a lot of time thinking about when she'll come visit and how long she'll stay.

it's actually been very sweet to see how excited she is about all of this. despite her lecturing me on drinking while pregnant (i, um, haven't, but thanks for the note!) -- including giving me the cliff notes from my sister's school presentation on fetal alcohol syndrome -- she's been very supportive and fun.

so, i suppose, a blog 30 years from now where my daughter talks about how ridiculous i am, how i talk over her and exclusively about my dogs is inevitable. in the meantime, it should be a wild ride -- for all three of us.

GRANDMA HILL SAYS THE BIBLE SAYS IT'S A BOY

so, to explain, the title of this post is the subject line of an email i got from my mom today (yes, in all caps).

to back up, while she was last here on her one-day-turned-six-day trip, my husband and i found out the happy news that we are expecting a little one in october.

we are waiting to find out the sex of the baby (we have two weeks left) and my mom keeps telling me that my grandma has some "Bible trick" to determine it. the email (her emphasis, not mine) she sent today read:

HI Hon:  I talked to grandma today and asked her if she had done her bible thing and she said she hadn't but she would do it then, which she did.

She came up with 1 Chronicles 27:16

My Bible's translation is as follows"  

"Officers of the Tribes: 

The officers over the tribes of Israel:

over the Reubenites:  Eliezer SON OF Zicri"

She interpreted this to mean that he will be a man of leadership and importance (referring to "officers")

and the SON means baby K is a boy.  Believe it or not?  That's the truth according to GH and the Good Book.

I don't know what this does to little Miss K, that I'm dreaming about.

Have a great day,

Love you,

MOM

when i asked her what my grandma's "bible thing" was, exactly, she wrote back:

Well she just opens the bible and points

  classic.

planes and prune juice

it's clearly been a while since i last wrote.  there was a lot to write about /nothing to write about all at once but mom came through!

she and her husband are taking a cruise soon. a 14-day cruise (which means she's missing lots of work, but she seems ok w/ it), that sails out of the port right up the street. therefore, she wanted to come out "a day early" to stay with us. perfect!

well, the one day has turned into six (not that i mind, i'm looking forward to seeing her; thankfully, i have an understanding husband), so mom will be bunking here for awhile. it might be stressing her out a little because, while hearing about flights and dates, she's also mentioned she's having another issue (you'll see). here's the email i got yesterday.

Ok the flight is ugly

The only one that was halfway decent is leaving Miami friday

At 10 something PM and I get in around 1.... Something AM sat

So... If you could take a nap

And pick me up that would b great

It's longer than I thought so if you and Scottie have plans please go ahead with them

I look forward to seeing you

Ps bought some more prune juice today

Have a good day

Xxxooo   Mom