05.09.08

The farm

I didn’t get sick, but it’s kind of a good thing that Dave did.

I went to the farm earlier than originally planned on Wednesday, and there was no way I could have done that if Dave hadn’t taken the day off on account of being all feverish. When I pulled out of the driveway at noon the kids were pressed against the living window, cheeks afire and mouths turned downward, the closed windows muting their cries. I felt bad for Dave, leaving him like that, but God knows I have parented alone while feeling like I might die more than once.

I stopped at the liquor store for wine and plucked two loaves of garlic bread and a tub of chewy chocolate chip cookies from the grocery store shelves. I picked up a coffee and a chocolate dip donut for the way, turned up the tunes and made my way to the farm.

It was a gorgeous morning and I drove slowly, taking in the scenery. I smiled at the familiar old farm houses and barns I’d passed so many times before, breathed in the smell of the land. When I was a kid I loved the drive to my Gram’s; my dad and I played car games on the way and I used to imagine what it would be like to live in one of the big farm houses that stood, sturdy and strong, along the winding road that took us in to her town. Ironically, the house we live in now is on the very far end of that same winding road, a fact that wasn’t lost on me when Dave first found this house.

I blinked back hot tears as I drove down the long road to the farm and saw the line of trees behind the pig barn, the ones my parents had helped my grandfather plant long before I was a consideration. I stood beside my car and looked at the house, in all its glory, standing square against the blue sky, the grass bright and green before it, stretched out like a blanket. I steeled myself before going inside, reminded my heart that it wouldn’t look the same as it always had, yet it was still a shock to see it so disheveled. Boxes piled in corners, drawers opened and pictures taken down, faded squares on the walls marking the spots where they’d once proudly hung.

We gathered there, my family, with shoulders to lean on, tears to shed and memories to share. We talked and marveled, hugged and laughed. We had dinner, uncorked the wine; my dad played his guitar and my cousin’s children played. Before I knew it, the sky was dark; it was late and I was tired. I said my goodbyes, got in my car and headed home, and just as the rain fell from the sky and pelted my windshield I let the tears fall off my cheeks and into my lap, dotting my jeans with wet circles. Her house wasn’t the same, and it’s not the same with her gone.

I’ll miss it, that house, very much the same way that I miss her.

Posted in life, in general at 1:19 pm by mamatulip

Permalink 39 Comments

05.06.08

Just get me through to Thursday

Julia got sick on Sunday afternoon; the same vicious bug that bit her brother earlier in the week came along and nipped her, too. We had a rough twelve hours and then she seemed to settle; when Dave got home from work yesterday evening she felt strong enough for a bath and even managed a tiny bit of chicken noodle soup. When I put her to bed we agreed that if she felt well enough, she could go to school for the afternoon today.

Early this morning she appeared at my bedside, pale-faced, complaining of a stomach ache. Half-asleep, I mumbled for her to get in next to me. She crawled up on Dave’s side and promptly threw up on the bed beside me.

She’s got it good; it breaks my heart to see her so sick. I’m exhausted; I’ve spent the last two and a half days alternating between taking care of her, keeping Oliver happy and occupied, running laundry, disinfecting and cleaning up vomit.

The phone rang unexpectedly this morning, and I was surprised when I saw Dave’s cell number pop up on the screen. Guess what? He’s sick, too. Dave’s the kind of guy who hates to miss work; for him to leave mid-morning means he is SICK. And he is – he had to pull over on the way home to yack on the side of the road and he’s upstairs in bed now with a fever and a bowl.

I feel like a sitting duck.

Tomorrow evening my family is gathering at my grandmother’s farm, which was sold last week, for one last hurrah before the house is gone. I think it’s safe to say I am grieving the farm; I spent so much time there in my lifetime and I am sad, very sad, to see it go. Tomorrow will be, without a doubt, the last time I will see her house the way it has been all my life, the way I’ve always remembered it, and always will. It will be the last time I’ll see it, smell it, touch it, feel it, and it is integral for me – for my heart, for my soul – to be there with my family.

I just need to get through to tomorrow night. I don’t care what happens after that, but I need to get through to tomorrow night without getting sick. Please, please, please, if I’m going to get sick, don’t let me get sick until Thursday.

Please.

(Those of you who are planning on coming to BFF this summer - there's a new post with new and exciting details right over here. Check it out!)

Posted in life, in general at 12:16 pm by mamatulip

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05.03.08

Two’s a charm

So Mrs. Chicken, Mrs. Chicky and Her Bad Mother are about to become mothers – for the second time. There’s a virtual shower going on in their honour, and the lovely ladies behind it want us to share our favourite ass/advice when it comes to having kids. Specifically, they wanna know what I could have done without knowing, and what I was more than happy to hear.

I didn’t really get a lot of assvice my second go, but I was told more times than I can count how important it was for me to get Julia potty trained before the baby came. The fact that Julia was still in diapers when Oliver finally decided to jump ship seemed to freak a lot of people out. “Oh, you don’t want to have two kids in diapers,” I was warned. “You just don’t.”

But I didn’t give a crap if I had two kids in diapers, and I didn’t push Julia to potty train. Aside from it being a touch costlier, having two kids in diapers wasn’t the total disaster that people seemed to think it would be.

The best thing I was told when I was pregnant with Oliver wasn’t really advice, but more reassurance, from my Gram. I wrote about it when Julie had her virtual baby shower, and here’s a snippet of that post:

“It’s a boy,” I gushed, the tears flowing freely now. “And I’m so scared!”

I was. I didn’t know about boys, I knew about girls. What if I wiped him wrong and hurt his…his…jewels? What if he didn’t like me and only wanted Dave? And the biggie, the one that had me lying in bed at night, wide-eyed and worried: how could I possibly love another child the way I loved Julia?

I knew my grandmother would understand my fears, having raised three boys of her own. And although she chuckled when I admitted my fear of maneuvering my way around my son’s god-given gifts, she said something to me then, something that, in the two and a half years I’ve been mothering a son, has proved to be true countless times.

“There’s nothing better than having a son,” she said, her voice softening. “I’ll tell you something about little boys, honey. They can be somethin’ else, but they sure do love their mama’s.”

I still tear up when I think of that conversation, because she was right. SO RIGHT. Going from one to two was difficult for me; Oliver was a high-needs baby who was different from his sister in every way imaginable, and I had a hard time adjusting to that. He was somethin’ else, all right – he still is – but the love I get from him…god, the love. It’s amazing. Half of the time I have a hard time not squirting him with HP Sauce and eating him right up.

If I had to muster up some advice for you three lovely ladies, I think it would be this: put your other kid to work. Julia loved to help me with Oliver and I equally loved to ~~lighten my load at her expense~~ give her little things to do, like fetch me a diaper/burp cloth/clean sleeper/scotch on the rocks. Having her help me with her brand-spankin’-new baby brother made her feel important, and it lessened the instances in which I had to, you know, do stuff.

That said, ladies, I wish you all the luck, love and easy labour vibes in the world.

xoxo Mamatulip