Long Time No See

It's been a long hiatus and I'm feeling like the time might be right to start over. I just refreshed my memory on what I'd written six months ago. Lots has happened since then. I wrote about my friend who was battling a mystery illness. Her name was Amy and she died maybe two weeks after I posted about her. I think she was 39.
We always mythologize people we love who die but she really was pretty cool in a stealth quiet kind way of shining. She was someone who really knew about pacing herself. And pie plates. She had things like 5 extra pie plates, one from her grandma's house across the street, one from the flea market, maybe a few left over from a party. She was that kind of person. She didn't just have the one "perfect" thing, b/c she wasn't worrying what people thought of her. She just had what she had and was just in herself so calmly. That may seem to be about material goods but it shows her spirit. She didn't have a dining room table. She cooked food on this vintage stove, home cooked food mind you and fed her children lovingly. Then she sit on some kid chair and feed herself. You see what I'm saying here. She was living but in that zen calm that just is. Maybe that seems silly and for sure she would not have put it that way but that's how I remember her. She didn't seem to care if dirty dishes were piled up when you came over, she was too busy being with you. Or gardening. I guess I see that in a golden light b/c I so need even just a little of that in my day.
Amy left behind two fairly amazing children and there's nothing golden I can possibly make of that. (Pause to weep a little)

That of course brings up M7(!). He's doing fine. In his own way. He can fold himself into a yoga pretzel and for that I am so grateful. I can't think of any more hopeful sign. He's still falling and everything, he's got some weird physical stuff going on but mostly the kid is fucking alive and that's all I care about.
Not that I can honestly say we(the fam) are living life in some new way. I think we(the 'rents) are still losers who yell at kids. We struggle to get them places on time, have a hard line as far as rules. Screw it. When does the fun start? When do all these "memories" we're 'posed to be be making (cue disney music and starry background) goddamn start? Or at least therapy?
I'll let you know (hopefully it won't take 6 months to get there).

So many important things to write about but this is all I can say

Sung in a sing songy crackly whine:
"Rainbows and a happy tree
are fine for some but not for me.
I will draw three legged cats
and caterpillars with ugly hats!"

courtesy of J3's new favorite tape
'A Birthday for Frances'

Your Heart is a Muscle - use it

Something I read on Parent Project MD:

It takes
42 muscles to hug someone.

(someone in a DMD chat group signs herself 'safe hugz').

I'm not sure I'm ready for this.

Torture

Today I'm feeling intensely bleak. My whole life feels really pointless. I don't mean living is pointless but that there's not any happiness in what I'm doing. I'm hating every single minute of my job, I can't even think about my kids without starting to feel this sinking pit in my stomach, and my home life is dwindling down to sheer torture. I'm not really sure about what to do with all this. I think finally it's hitting me about the MD. I've been a little too damn chipper, keeping up a good "survivor's front". Maybe my whole life is hitting me. I spent part of the weekend with a friend who has to make the most horrible decision that might affect whether she's here with her kids in a year's time or not, whether or not to have a bone marrow transplant & chemo that she may not survive. I can't seem to get myself to let all this crap sink in. I'm going numb.I think I need to stop blogging and start therapy. Or a vacation. It's all a little too much right now.

An Update on Fucked Up Friends

I have this strange situation.
I long ago lost my dearest friendship when a friend suddenly went off the deep end with an equally psycotic boyfriend. It is a bizarre story of the boyfriend tearing up my mother's house while housesitting, including breaking her tv screen, throwing things out the window and riffling through her retirement papers and old family heirloom pictures, essentially destroying the sanctity of her house and walking off with all her personal info(which involved packing a box up of her stuff and taking it on a plane from Hawaii to CA). Like the feeling of a housebreak-in a hundred times over.
Okay bizarre story enough right? Can you imagine someone you don't really know having all yr financial and personal info, someone now obviously off his rocker? And the police in two states saying they can't do anything unless he makes a move on her?And my so-called loved one, the woman who was going to be at the birth of my first child(I was five months pregnant at the time), someone I considered my "chosen family" stood by him through all of this, even defended him. Now this is the toughest woman I've ever known but she acted like she was brain-washed. She just gave our long and intense friendship up b/c she couldn't face his psychosis (I think). Who knows, because I never got a straight answer out of her. I still to this day feel like I was hit by a bus, not just by the disappointment in her but also by the sheer surprise of the thing, it just came out of the blue. Did I totally miss danger signs that were obvious? I was left doubting my judgement and my trust in other people was demolished.
So seven years go by, I think I got over it as best I could and moved on. But occasionally, I am reminded of her and how I miss being with her and the great sense of comraderie, smartassedness, zest and laughing we had together. She was as instrumental to my life and outlook as my family has been. I really liked myself with her at the base of it all. And I had no choice about the whole thing which just killed me at the time. No say whatsoever.
Part of the boyfriend's psychosis (I think) was his feeling of jealousy of our friendship and worry it was romantic. Part of it was the fact that he was in hawaii and he was cut off from his marijuana self-medication that kept his mental health glued tight. Part of it was he may have thought there was pot in my mother's house and went searching and lost his mind. Or maybe it was all random. Paranoia is so abstract. Who knows? I never saw him again. I probably would be in jail now if I had.
Enough said. So many years has passed. I didn't know where she was or have any gossip about her life. I may have googled her once or twice in a secretive indulgence. I'm not proud of wanting to know anything about her. But two days ago I ran into a design website that's hers, contact info and everything. So I called and sure enough her voice is on the message. So I've been dangerously toying with the idea of writing her a letter(e-mail). Not the kind of conciliatory note of a groveling "I'll take any beating you dish out" sort of wet dog note. More, here's what you missed. I don't hate her. I don't. I want to vent. I also want to know what happened to her mind. Is she ok? I shouldn't care but caring for her is not something I ever wanted to give up. I want to make the choice for myself, not continue to have it imposed on me.
I still haven't made up my mind if I will or I won't.

No need for a title

Give sorrow words.
The grief that does not speak
knits up the overwrought heart
and bids it break.

Shakespeare

Pirates have Boarded the Good Ship Lollipop

So I realized today that I have forgotten to write about something of the utmost importance, the preeminent event of the week. Tomorrow is J3's official 3rd B-day Pirate bash! And let me tell you, it's the most elaborately themed child's party I have ever produced. Mother's guilt makes me admit that M6.5's last party was a flop and I shoulder the blame. I was just not enthused about another damn party I had to do all by myself. Then I also let him say who could come and he said only his brand new Kindergarten friends, no family friends, no old friends and certainly no adult friends. And I didn't do diddly for planning. I was in fully overworked, stressed mom phase. Now, of course b/c of all this new med stuff I'm overenthusiastic about family stuff, everything's gotta be so friggin' FUN all the time that I sorta have gone overboard. Well, so J3 is reaping the benefits of his older brother's diagnosis.
There'll be swords and a treasure chest and pirate costumes and oranges to fight the scurvy.
Arrggg the wee hearties will take the helm of me ship! Billions of blistering barnacles!
As an aside: I am now so sick of pirates.