Noticing an unwillingness to accept...

Lately I am getting back into yoga and meditation at the start of my day, thanks to inspiration from my sis. There truly is something nurturing and calming about paying attention to the breath (life itself) and simply being and noticing it.

In some respects, my life situation is taking its sweet time sorting itself out peacefully and productively in the wake of Mom's passing. In other ways, it marches on right on schedule. Some changes this journey brings are most unwelcome. It has been eye-opening to learn about myself how difficult it can be to accept life as it comes. Logically, what can be done besides accepting what is? Somehow within me there is a lot of strong refusal to accept certain aspects of reality. It is a curious thing to observe.

Here's what I read about that in Jon Kabat-Zinn's Full Catastrophe Living:
"If you are mindful as emotional storms occur, perhaps you will see in yourself an unwillingness to accept things as they already are, whether you like them or not. Perhaps that part of you that does see this has, in one way or another, already come to terms with what has happened or with your situation. Perhaps, at the same time, it recognizes that your feelings still need to play themselves out, that they are not ready to accept or to calm down, and that this is all right."

SILC Dance Performance

Minor Tragedy

Recently Eliana decided she wanted to do a living biology experiment. With her allowance one week she bought a small female betta fish and put it in the vase with her large male crown betta fish, Ringo (our spazzy fast swimmer). Her hope was that maybe baby fish would eventually be the result of this pairing. We cautioned her that Scarlet may not survive the experiment, but that we thought the aggression usually happened between two males with their fancy fins to intimidate one another, so sweet, teeny little Scarlet might be okay.

Well, Ringo was about 5 times the size of little Scarlet, and swam after her in such a way that made her feel pursued and frightened with it. To escape from the monster, she buried herself under the glass marbles at the base of their environment, and got trapped. Several times. We put her back in her original container until we could get her set up in her own little home, thinking she would be much happier without feeling like prey.

Before we could get her settled, to welcome Elli and her friends home from school the next day, Scarlet started to emit a cloudy white substance all around her head. And very soon after, died :(. The girls prayed about it, and felt very sad that she didn't survive. The next morning the kids held a funeral for Scarlet and though there was discussion about cryogenically freezing the dearly departed until spring when she could be placed in her final resting place, she was instead sent to a watery grave. Sadly, after a few days Ringo got the white fuzzy stuff too, which after researching I now believe was flexibacter infection. He died too.

The sad part is, Elli is the one who was so excited to bring fish to live with us, and she is the one who feeds them and spurs us to change their water. She even sometimes just sits with the vase watching the movements and speaking to the fish. Initially she said she didn't want a replacement, but now she is ready to get a new one.

Ah, the ebb and flow of life is a mysterious thing, and difficult to come to terms with.

Diaper Developments and Cabin Fever

I am pleased to report that Emmett has outgrown the self de-nappying phase. Attempting to potty train with him cured him of that pretty quickly. We bought him a brightly colored, brand new froggy training potty, and every time we asked him to sit on it he cried. Big, fat tears. Froggy is apparently scary! So in order to avoid being asked to use the frog, he no longer pulls his trousers and diaper off. Yay!

We're in the deep freeze in Minnesota these days, cabin fever is encroaching. Spring will be very sweet this year. Bittersweet too, since it will be the first Mother's Day without Mom. I can picture the flowers at the Minnesota arboretum, and how good it will be to see the colors, smell the fragrance and feel the sun and the warm breeze on my face. Click the photo below if you should want to invite cabin fever too by looking at photos I took last Mother's Day at the arboretum.

First post in the new year...

It doesn't matter that we are halfway through January, it still counts. Regular blogging seems to be yet another of those things that requires habitual behavior, or the D word (discipline). Those patterns somehow are elusive to me. But I really love to write, and it's cool when that writing spurs comment or thought in friends and family.

So here goes. This morning's topic is (as it quite often is) the baby. We refer to him as 'the baby' more often than by his given name, Emmett. In fact, he refers to himself as, 'Beebee'.

Beebee has developed a little habit lately that causes a flurry of activity in everyone nearby. I'm sure he must feel powerful as his actions cause people to stop whatever they were about, and react immediately. He has even been known to laugh at us while he goes about his task. There is definitely an impish aspect to his actions, and it appears he plots to strike at the most opportune moment.

What does BeeBee do? He removes his pants and his diaper at every possible juncture. With contents, without contents... Resolve upholstery cleaner and I have become well acquainted. At first he waited until he was alone so he could get completely unfettered before discovery took place. Now he boldly begins the process in the middle of a crowded room. Grandpa used to delight in having Emmett in his shopping cart as he made his way around the store, but the last time I suggested he do that Grandpa declined the opportunity. He was worried Emmett might start getting nekked in the middle of Target!

You may think Emmett is giving us clear signals that he is ready to potty train, and I agree. I started the process this week. To say BeeBee is resistant to the idea is putting it mildly. He cooperates fairly well when it is time to run to the potty, celebrates with me when we do a check and find him dry, clearly already has the skill of pulling his pants up and down... He just has no intention of giving up his new found ability. He can make us all scramble just by getting that determined look and touching his waist band. And really, who would readily give up that kind of power?

In Honor of My Wonderful Mom...

My Mom, Virginia Mae Sass, died at 5:01 Sunday, December 21, 2008 of a massive heart attack. She would have been 61 on January 20th.

She had known since 2003 about her heart condition, and wished to keep it private. The recommended course of action was invasive surgery she did not want and felt with her diabetes she would either not survive or not heal properly from. Though Dad, Sarah and I often tried to convince her to see a doctor, she steadfastly chose to decline medical intervention. She wanted to live her life out naturally and privately, at home and without the trauma of invasive procedures, and that is what she did. It seems so clear now in retrospect that her health was waning and leading to this for some time. But words cannot express what a sad, sad Shock it was. She would have been 61 on January 20 of the new year.

Last night we said goodbye to Mom. Her wish was for there not to be a fuss following her death. She did not want a big, public funeral, and wished to be cremated, which will take place within the next few days. According to her exact wishes we had a private viewing with only her nuclear family in attendance. Dad, Sarah and Amentahru, me and Nat, and the kids went to Washburn McReavy funeral home in uptown Minneapolis at a little after 7 last night, once Sarah and Amentahru arrived from Illinois. Mom wore one of her favorite turquoise and navy plaid tops, with the mom bracelet I made her containing birthstone beads for Sarah and me and a love pendant. We stood around her and sat with her, kissed her cold forehead and grasped her cold arms, and stroked her hair that felt like normal, soft and wispy. In the background we played the lovely, ethereal, other-worldly Enya Paints the Sky with Diamonds, as she wished.

Mom loved Corrie Ten Boom. So I read a quote from her writings, 'A life is not measured by it's duration, but by it's donation.' And that fits Mom to a tee. She gave so much--what she lovingly and painstakingly created in yarn for loved ones and acquaintances alike, any overflow of resources she delighted in giving away, her love and time and joy and affection and teaching for the grandkids, so many hours into delicious comfort food meal preparation and celebrations....

Nat read from scripture about how God is the healer of the broken hearted and the crushed (Psalm 34:18), how the old order will pass away and in the new order God will wipe every tear and there will be no more sorrow or pain (Revelation 21:4), and how he went to prepare a place for us and he promised he will take us to that place (John 14:1-4).

The kids had listed special things they love about Grandma: she was really nice, she hates to have her picture taken, she was an awesome artist even though she doesn't admit it , she made us beautiful things, she likes to clean other people's houses, she loves to babysit her grandkids, she loves her family, she was the soup queen...

Sarah suggested we sing songs and the ones that came up were By the Light of the Silvery Moon (from when she played piano out of the Reader's Digest book), Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken (from the hymn book she played often), She'll be Coming Round the Mountain (one of the songs we would sing on our road trips), Blessed Be the Tie that Binds, It is Well With My Soul, and lastly, The Lord Is My Shepherd, the last line of which goes, 'Goodness and mercy all my life shall surely follow me, and in God's house forever more my dwelling place shall be. '

Dad led us in prayer for Mom and those loved ones surviving her passing ahead of us into the promised land and we bought a balloon to release to symbolize the freedom of Mom's spirit and as Clara says to watch her fly up to heaven where God is.

Though it is so painful to have to say goodbye for now to Mom, I know now wholeness and healing and perfect love have come to her, and it is a comfort to know she is with God and all is well.

Chillin' Out

Jack Frost has arrived to find our family firmly ensconced in our schooltime schedule. Nat's work demands are 'reasonable' at the moment, so he is able to be involved in dropping and/or fetching the kids at their various endeavors. That is a good thing, since my clone just doesn't show up when called upon. Once the four travelers have gone for the day, Emmett and I have calm before the after school storm. Of course, Mr. Emmett isn't a big fan of calm so considers it his duty to disturb that in such an inventive and effective manner, you would not believe he didn't have chums helping in the effort. Many, older, stronger and more diabolical chums.

His thing right now is throwing. Everything. Heaviness is just a bonus. Since I am the object of his affection (and often the only other human present), I also make a handy target. Have you heard that fact that babies zero in on the face when their vision is still forming? How they can recognize their mama even before they can see very well because they possess an instinct that measures distance between facial features? Apparently that facial fascination stays with a baby into toddlerhood. And Emmett has a rocket arm and surprising accuracy. I'm lucky my nose is not broken and I have not suffered a concussion (yet). Calm can be painful.

The after school storm consists of All District Band practice, jujitsu workouts, dance practice for both girls, Girl Scouts meetings, chess club meetings, and starting next week I jump into the mix helping out at school once and twice a week. Am I missing something? I'm sure I'm missing something. Or no, that's just my recurring nightmare talking. Dinnertimes are a fun hodgepodge of times and places, and I won't even get into the effects of finickiness. Actually, I will. Last night, Miss Finicky (that would be Clara) had actual tears because I insisted she eat the bread with the hot dog--in an effort to buy a little more time before the ''I'm hungry" cry went up after dinner. I thought this was kid food, folks?! I hadn't even forced her to eat the disgusting chili and cheese with it, and she was only required to have one teensy spoon of the corn, red bean, artichoke salad on the side. Oh the injustice! and oh the drama it inspires!

It was yesterday that Jack Frost paid us a visit. Today a steady and gentle rain is falling, and the skies are a dismal gray. Clara was not amused, she really does not enjoy clouds or the potential for storms of any kind. We talk about the earth and how it really needs a drink, and it helps some. But she is still not amused. I, myself, am not particularly jolly of a rainy day like today. But since I'm a few years more than six, I've developed strategies. Like long and hot baths and good books, steaming hot pots of chicken soup and fresh warm bread to accompany them, and getting lost in a project of some kind. Here's hoping Emmett allows me to employ at least one of those strategies, and if it's the soup, that Miss Finicky finds nothing objectionable after today's storm.