think and reflect

     My posts are going to pretty raw for awhile.  I have always felt that writing is cathartic and I post it just because maybe someday it will help someone.  You may want to skip reading these posts as they will be about my feelings and thoughts.  They won't be updates on my family but rather my ups and downs in emotions.  My brother encouraged me to go back to the beginning and write what I remember; he seems to think it will help and has promised that he will read it.  For all he is my little brother, he is pretty fierce when he wants to be so I am kind of scared NOT to write. 

     It is funny how the mind works.  Jarrad told me to call 911.  My neighbor jumped the fence and his wife ran from their yard to ours.  As soon as I knew the ambulance was on the way, I knew I needed to get off the phone and call my friends.  I knew that Chris and Cara wouldn't hesitate and they didn't.  For me, time was incredibly slow.  Cara told me that the ambulance came quickly but I thought it was taking forever.  And yet, everything was so surreal.  I truly felt as if I was dreaming.  Any minute, he would get up and say that hurt.  Detached.  That is a good word but it doesn't explain the welling sense of panic.
     I was asked questions.  It was hard for me to answer.  I felt as if I had to pull my eyes away from Jarrad to whoever asked me the question before I could answer.  They were simple, yes or no.  Name.  Birthdate.  And then Jarrad moaned.  It came from deep within him and is the scariest thing I have ever heard. 
     Jarrad called for me and I held his hand; he asked me to recite Psalm 23.  I have known this verse since I was in elementary school and I could not for the life of me recall it.  I felt like I had failed him right out of the gate.  He is the strong one; the brave one.  He is the tiger, the pit bull, the charging bear in this family.  It is his nature to protect those around him and when he asked me for the comfort of a verse I have known all of my life, I couldn't give it to him.
     Instead, all I could repeat was, "Our Father, who art in Heaven."  Over and over.  So very far away in heaven.  I wonder if that is how He felt as he turned away from His son on the cross.  Like He had failed.  Am I being sacrilegious?  I don't think so.  It brings me a sense of comfort to know that He has felt what I felt. Still feel. 
Isn't it funny how the mind works?

take a fall

Last week at this time, my life, OUR life changed.  Family and friends have been following what happened so don't think this is new; it is just my reflections of the past week.  I hope that by writing all of this it will bring about some type of catharsis.
Today is bad because I look at the clock and mark what was happening at this time.  From now on, the idea of a few moments that can change your life.
So
Last week at this time, I think I was waiting for an ambulance or maybe, I was in the ambulance.  Yes, I think that was it.  I was in the ambulance as it raced down 85, counting my husband's eyelid flickers.  All I could think of is that as long as he was blinking, he was alive.  Perhaps now, I am in the ER, watching as his clothes are cut from him and trying to think of the answers to questions that are being asked of me.  They weren't even important questions.  Just "do you want to stay here?"  Yes.  "Do you want us to call anyone?" No.  That was because a part of me just wanted him to get up.  And to call someone meant that he wouldn't.  I know, it doesn't make sense.  I am fortunate that I have friends who are wiser than I who came anyway. 
And now, I wait.  I just wait.
Waiting was hard.  Waiting is numb.  Waiting is surreal.  I was never good at waiting.
Now, I am waiting in the waiting room.  Someone keeps turning on the TV and then leaving.  We talk.  We pray.  A chaplain comes - he has no idea what he is doing and can't answer my questions.  Another friend comes.  They should give her the salary of the chaplain. I am comforted by women who love me and Jarrad.  A couple of guy friends come.  More support.
The doctor comes.  Are we all family.  Yes.  Firm.  He is taken aback but tells us all anyway.  He is a nice doctor.
Later.  I go home.  It is empty and I cry some more.
I am tired of crying.
People lived lives in this amount of time. In the amount of time it takes me to describe what happened in a few paragraphs,  babies were born, people were married, and . . . I know that I am lucky; we are lucky.  To contemplate the other, well, I don't.  I shove it away.  But it haunts me. 
I don't like waiting. It is hard.
Very.

Tour the house (room 1)

     I love reading blogs with pictures.  I love looking at people's houses on blogs.  I love seeing what others do to houses.  One of my favorite shows that doesn't come on much anymore is Moving Up on TLC.  It is about couples who sell their home, move somewhere else and then come back to the old home to see what the new owners did to it. Some are quite catty about it and I sometimes agree with them but everyone's style is different and I just love to see what folks come up with.  Sooo, that being the case, I am giving you a tour of my home room by room in sporadic bursts.  Translation - when I clean them enough to take a picture! 
      This is my son's room.  The dresser we bought as a changing table when we had our daughter.  It was the perfect height. So when #2 came along, we bought her a new (old) dresser and moved this one into little boy's room.  We are in the process of potty training so, it still gets used as a changing table, although not as often as it once was. 
     The planes I bought at Micheal's for .50.  They are hung by fishing wire from the ceiling and the clouds are wall clings.  My mom made the pictures on the walls and my dad built the shelf above the window. I made the bedding.  Yep, just a bit proud of myself with that one! 

      My dad is really good at woodwork.  He also made this book case when I told him what I wanted.  My kids thought it was great that they were able to climb in it.  He told me that he made it kid proof.  This thing is a solid piece of furniture!  I wanted him to make a headboard for S.'s bed but I do have 3 other siblings (and a mom) so I can't really monopolize too much of his talents.  Otherwise. . . sigh. 
     However, I have a few friends and read a few blogs who talk about "treasure" hunts in thrift stores.  So I decided to be on the lookout for a headboard.  I knew what I wanted my dad to build - a bookcase headboard.  Imagine my delight when I saw EXACTLY what I wanted outside a thrift store one morning.  FOR $5.00!!!!  So excited!  And of course, little boy climbs in it, on it and under it.  I left some space between it and the wall so that he could have a "hidey hole".  And a toy storage area.  The bed skirt is Ralph Loren that I got for 5.00 at a Bed Bath and Beyond. It may not match exactly but it is still pretty close.  The poster that doesn't seem to go with the decor is from Unc J who works on tractors and gives us rides which quite possibly makes him the coolest uncle EVER!  That is until the other uncle gives us a ride on the motorcycle in 10 years! 

     

Build a house

     A while back, my mom asked what I wanted for my son's birthday.  I was walking by the french doors that look outside and saw the tree in our miniscule back yard and jokingly said, "A tree house."  Now, I really wanted one but didn't think that was going to happen.  She laughed and asked how big.  Not too big, again, miniscule back yard.  When she asked my dad -whose hobby is wood - he apparently didn't blink and said he could do that.  Both my parents dote on their grandchildren - REALLY.  It is a good thing we live 6 hours away or they would be SPOILED!  Sorry Siblings - I can't help you because you live closer!  (just a little jealous - free babysitting would spoil me. *** Pause while imagining free babysiting - ahhh)

     Moving on!  I am super excited about the tree house.  I had one growing up.  I still remember when my uncle showed up with all this what we would today call "reclaimed" wood.  I also think that he was introducing his fiance' to his older brother.  Who knows, I was about 8, 9, 10 at the time.  I do remember them kissing and me giggling. . .
     Anyway, it was more like a porch that was attached to 2 trees. I guess we call that a fort and not a house.  Doesn't really matter because I loved it.  That was my vision for S.'s tree fort. 
      I think that we all remember things that we did in our childhood that we want to pass on to our children. There is a phrase that some parents live through their children by having them do what they weren't able to do.  I think when we give our kids something that we enjoyed as children, we sometimes relive our childhood through them.  In this case, it isn't such a bad thing because it just might encourages us to go out and play too (you should have seen J. on the Slip N Slide).  Seeing the tree fort outside makes me remember all sorts of good things - like the time one of my brothers was "charging" the castle when the other had tied one end of a rope around a log and the other around a tree branch and then let the log end fall like a pendulum to stop the attacker.  Now pause while you picture it . . . .  and laugh. 

     So S. got a tree house for his birthday.  I get to play the witch that locks the princess in the tower.  My son is the hero and my daughter the princess.  And if the kids drive me nuts, I can climb up there and knock the ladder down.



I love tree houses.