Feeling bratty

I'm sure Mark is about done with me at Christmastime. I announced two weeks before Christmas that I was over it. And by the time it happened, I actually did feel over it.  

I don't know what to say that doesn't sound bratty.  Christmas seems to be getting a little less magical each year. I made a couple of gifts, which was fun.  We watched a few Christmas movies.  I got to visit an old friend and my mother - both nice visits.  Mark and I took a break and went to wineries that were festively decorated and happy places - super fun.  Way back when, when we were going to church on Christmas Eve it was nice some times, stressful on other times, and we decided to drop it.  But maybe we should find a way to add that in again.  And maybe I need to do an attitude check and think about all of the positives at Christmastime.  'Cause I sure don't want a repeat of a bratty Christmas.

Money, marbles and chalk

Mark had a saying when we were newly wed - he'd sigh and say "money, marbles, and chalk" when we had money woes.  Money always seemed to slip right through our fingers on the way to Debt.  Its been awhile since I've heard him use that particular phrase, but I recalled it on Tuesday when we had the dishwasher repaired to the tune of $225.

Home repairs are usually something we can do, but replacing a drain pump in the dishwasher isn't one of those.  I guess it was cheaper than replacing the whole darn thing, but the thing is only about 3 years old.  We are hell on our appliances, for sure.  We've gone through two microwaves, three dishwashers, two stovetops, an A/C unit, 4 coffee pots, and  2 toaster ovens since we've lived at Rustown.  Sometimes I worry about what we will do, out in the country in Burnet, fending for ourselves and arranging repairs when we are old and gray.

What overwhelm feels like

My mother is having a tough time hanging in there after she totaled her pick-up.  To say we are worried about her is an understatement. She has a horrendous purple bruise that extends the width of her abdomen, exactly where the seatbelt kept her alive.  It is taut and has a knot on it, causing her pain when she moves a certain way.  Another on her breast is draining down towards her nipple.  She's shaky on her feet, cries easily, and says she doesn't "feel like herself".   At one moment she'll be stubborn and unyielding; the next, she's crying, confused and frightened like a child, saying she wishes she could hide in a closet. I've never seen my mother this unstable, even after Jim died. 

A week after the accident I arranged to spend the day with her.  My plan was to clean off some spaces in her kitchen - I felt like it was key to her not losing so many things. It's hard to stay organized with so much clutter.  I took "before" photos, assuming I could help make sense of her space.  But as the day wore on, the feeling of overwhelm paralyzed me.  This would take much more than a little cleaning and decluttering.  And she needed to be taken grocery shopping, to the bank and library...and the afternoon slipped away. I could straighten and clean all day, but in the end, if she isn't able to maintain it, its all for nothing.  So I should've just sat and visited with her, which would have been more helpful after all.  I want to do something that will fix the situation, but sitting there in the midst of all that clutter made me realize how hard that is.

I think my sister is on overwhelm, too.  She keeps coming up with scenarios that are sure to cause both she and my mother much pain and unhappiness.  My half-sister is also feeling the effects - Mother snapped at her and instantly she shut down.  A truck accident that had everything and nothing to do with us has defined our future interactions with our mother and each other.  And the side effects are that we have each lost some of our problem solving and resiliency.  

That's what overwhelm feels like from here.

Insomnia

I've been trying not to rely on anything to help me fall asleep.  The downside to those meds is that they make it hard for me to wake when my bladder is full.  Also, I wake up a little groggy in the morning.  So, I've been skipping them and it has led to me waking up multiple times at night.  Last night was no exception.  Weird dreams, waking myself up (!) with snores and hearing noises, getting up to pee twice, hearing someone (who?) running into a table.  Apparently Hubby heard that noise, too, and was up looking around.  It freaked me out a little and I could not fall back asleep.  That was around 4 a.m. and I was WIDE awake.  By 5, I just gave up on getting any more sleep and got up.  I made a cup of coffee, threw some things into the dryer, and settled in at my computer to read emails and such. 

By 7, I got up from my desk and unloaded the dishwasher while I perked a pot of coffee.  By 7:30, Hubby was up so I packed him a lunch and washed his work pants for next week since it was jeans day.  I also got my lunch and tote bag ready for the day.  By 7:45 I made the bed and straightened the bedroom.  By 8 I had the guys' Saturday dinners prepped and ready.  So I packed my weekend bag. 

At 8:45 I had Friday dinner done, cooling on the counter for me to cover it and put in the fridge.  Reloaded the dishwasher. 

By 9 the kitchen was clean and mopped. 

And by 9:20, I sat down with a leftover piece of pie for breakfast and typed this up.

I feel like a long day is ahead and I probably need to figure out what I can do to get better sleep.

Looking forward to homebody time

As much as I love hanging out with Mark on the weekends I sure miss those days of hanging out at my house.  I used to spend my days off getting a multitude of things done AND still having time to be creative.  I look around the house and see that there are projects - creative projects - I want to work on.

Something I don't seem to have a lot of time for nowadays.  The issue is: he's off the same days I am now, so I don't fill my free time with those things anymore.  And I miss all that.  Everyone needs a little unstructured time to putsey and do what they need or want to do around the house. So, I am a little grateful for on-call weekends since I get to be a homebody, chained to my pager or home phone until 7 p.m.  Plus I earn a little extra, especially if I get called in.

Not that I don't love to have weekends free to go and do.  I just relish the homebody time, too.  

Nature almost struck

Coming back to Highlands after dinner on Saturday I saw a snake disappear into the barn, right across from the door to the trailer.  "Snake" I yell.  "I think its just a rat snake though".  Mark:  "Oh yeah?  Where is it?  You mean this one in here?  RATTLING it's tail and coiling up like it's about to strike?!"  Oops - Yeah, I guess that's the one. Ten tense minutes, much yelling at Mark not to get bit, and a sharp hoe blade later

and Mr. Snake met his untimely end.

I'm kinda not in the mood for all this nature.  It's their land, not mine. They know all the hiding places and have the best defense weapons. We are the ones who allowed the mice to find a cozy home in the barn with the damn birdseed.  Mark and I are sorely outnumbered, possibly outsmarted.  And holy hell, I'm not ready to retire to Snake Hill!

Happyish

Part of being a person who experiences anxiety and depression is that it's hard to realize when you are starting down a dreary path.  And its hard to see the happy things.  So I am choosing to pause and think about them, in no particular order:

*A day off and a large bucket of popcorn at the movies 
*A quiet house first thing in the morning, with a coffee pot gently perking
*RAIN.  Lots of it.  I can hear my fig tree sighing out there, as well as the lawn.
*All my peeps seem to be going about their daily lives in mostly positive ways.
*Mark and I are on good financial footing and he enjoys being back at his old job.
*My elbow tendonosis is gone.  My back doesn't hurt.  My eye stopped watering. My nails aren't peeling. And I'm drinking lots of water so I don't feel dehydrated.
*We get to take Chloe and Spencer to Bell Springs on Saturday.  We will have a fun lunch, nice wine, listen to good music, enjoy the outdoors.
*I only work four days this week, and since I picked up extra hours on Sunday for overtime I get to work with an old friend and a new one.

Just typing that list made me feel better!

Hopefully still a good cause

About 6 months ago, one of my sisters and I decided that in Mother's best interests we would pull together to keep closer tabs on her.  We would inform each other of visits and how they went.  We would each pick a day of the week to check on her.  We check in with other for news of Mother - what we can do to help, how she is getting along.  All of that is positive, and makes me feel like we are putting the important shit first.  But when the old feelings come to the surface - I start to wonder if  I made a mistake.  

I don't want to play games. Life is not a race for first place.  I know my mother loves us all, and I am happy to do what I can for her, and even happier that I have at least one other sibling that is on somewhat the same page.  It's not about me, I get it.  I wish things were different.  But they aren't yet.

Tom

 My brother in law passed a few weeks ago.  Tom, married to Mark's sister Sharon. 

 

At Mark's college apartment, 1984

 Though they were technically old enough to be our parents, we thought of them as just slightly older than us since they were young at heart.  Sharon and Tom took me under their wings and made me part of the family. 

At Mark's college graduation with his aunt Aagot and Uncle Ken, 1984

 Visiting us at our first apartment in Austin.

 At a UT football game - one of Tom's passions.

I was never all that close with Tom - he was a reserved kind of guy - but Mark was, and since I loved Sharon, I thought of Tom as family.  We visited them several times in Dallas while we were in college, then when the time came to marry, Mark chose Tom as his best man.

 The Best Man, 1985

  Once we had a couple of kids, we weren't seeing them often as they lived in Dallas and we in Austin.  We were poor, working full time, had our hands full with small children.  And by the time we had Baby #3 and Baby #4, we had gone through many changes in life.  We drifted from them and their two kids, who seemed to grow up in a blink .  Fast forward to 2015 and Sharon passed. A hop, skip, and a jump, and Tom followed.

Tom and Sharon, with Bryan and Paige

Tom and Sharon at Rustown, 2012

We were separated by so many things, and it was apparent  this last weekend at his funeral. I know a lot of folks want to give you advice to tell the people you love that you love them and spend more time with them while they are alive, but it doesn't always work out that way.  But I will hang on to all of the happy memories and speak their names with love.  

Loyal

You could argue that Mark should help my mother in any way, seeing as he is her son-in-law.  But this is the same woman who asked me if I was sure I wanted to marry him, because after all, Gina "you are a pretty girl".  In the background was my sister, bobbing her head in agreement.  I guess I've always had a stubborn streak, because I ignored them and went on ahead with my wedding plans.  Over the years my mother has softened, as she has come to know him.  But that doesn't mean there weren't some rough spots.

She was hyper-critical of him when he declined to be the administrator of her will.  And she roasted him over the coals pretty good when he broke (and immediately fixed) a picket in her fence by running into it with her riding lawn mower.  Recently he accompanied me to my mother's house and did the jobs I couldn't do:  rebuilding an asparagus bed and getting her computer up and running.  Prior to that, he has done many other similar odd jobs involving either yard work or home repair or computer work or insurance assistance.  He treats my mother with respect and love.  He's the son she never had.  A good husband and father for the last 33 years.  A kind and generous man who loves me no matter what and encourages me in my moral responsibility to her.  A loyalist on all fronts.  I hope someday she gets the chance to tell him how glad she is that he is in our lives.

Dream feelings #2

Another restless night, another very freaky dream.

My mother came to me about something she left at a doctor's office. Some sensitive medical information.  The doctor had it and I had to retrieve it.  Turns out it was a string of sorts, but information.  Then it becomes more substantial as I look at it - it was made of cloth - a shirt?  Multi-colored plaid and woven,  with what I think is decorative stitching coming out.  Mother seems distressed about it.  As I am trying to handstitch it, I realize I am doing a poor job and must start over.  It becomes a dress, Mother disappears.  I need to finish it as soon as possible because one of my kids needs it for a field trip they are going on in a few minutes.  Hurry!  I get on the school bus to give it to my kid - turns out it is Grayson and he is small, maybe around 3 or four.  The bus is going to NYC.  The principal is telling everyone that they cannot go to a big store or someplace that she promised them, so the kids are standing in clusters around teachers, being comforted, including my kid, although I am still on the bus as it is pulling away and the bus driver will not let me off.  I don't have my purse or phone or money or even shoes.  I am pleading with her to let me off, but she won't stop the bus.  She says she can't because there is someone tailgating her.  I am suddenly in the back of the bus, poking my leg out of the open back, pushing on the car behind us.  Its a delivery truck and the driver of it is just starring at me.  There is no glass in his windshield.  I am screaming stop the bus!  But it won't, and no one is listening.  I start sobbing and place my hand on my stomach to steady myself as I cry.  But I realize the hand is not mine - its the man that is driving the truck behind us, and he has reached into the bus.  I push his hand away and the bus arrives in NYC.  All of the kids clamor off the bus with the teachers - we have arrived at the place that the principal said  they weren't going to - surprise!  I never do connect with Grayson - off he goes with someone else.  I am standing in a room of teachers - no kids - the principal is like some kind of ceremonial person conducting what?  A meeting?  She is wearing a turban and flowing clothes.  The dream ends.

So much despair in this dream.  Images of losing things.  Being someplace I don't want to be and ill-equipped to deal with it.  Rushing, trying to fix things, not being heard.