now what?
image credit: google images
and so it goes…
for the last 5 days, each phone conversation that i have had with my husband has begun as such…
“hey,” i say. jackson screeching in the background as my mom and dad whisk him away so i can focus.
((((long pause))))
“i still don’t know anything,” are the first words out of his mouth.
and those 5 words NEED to be said immediately after i have answered the phone in order for him and i to attempt to carry on any sort of “normal” conversation beyond the not knowing… beyond the obvious ugly.
once that has been established, some questions are asked from my end… questions that i cannot share here but wish i could.
he and i attempt to discuss other things. talk about jackson. ask about our families.
we continue to duck and run, bob and weave, dodging what we dread so very much… being separated for a VERY long time, with him being called away to a place that keeps me awake with nightmares in the earliest hours of the morning.
i have these conversations with myself during those wee hours of the morning when i wake up startled and scared.
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we dodged the bullet this morning. he was not chosen to leave at this moment in time.
i’m grateful. i’m relieved. i’m breathing at a steady pace.
but i’m still frightened.
this looming THING that we have been spared from for the second time in just a couple of months still looms.
it arrives with full force, announcing its presence with a thunderous roar.
and you wait.
and wait.
you duck. cower. look left and right. weigh your options.
you bob and weave.
and then what was this all-consuming THING vanishes in an instant. as quickly as the snap of a finger. and you are told that you are spared.
today we were spared.
but someone else was not.
someone with a family. someone’s husband. someone’s daddy. someone’s brother. someone’s son.
and so it goes…
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THANK YOU from the depths of my soul for all of the encouragement and support you have provided me with since my last post that i was not even given the ok to publish until yesterday. i have the greatest readers on the face of the planet. you are all gold, and i hope you know that i truly am grateful for each one of you. you allow me to be me in my space. accepting me at face value. and at the end of the day, that’s all i could possibly ask for.
typical conversation
head: it’s ok. we don’t know anything for sure. no need to panic.
heart: FUCK!!! WE DON’T KNOW ANYTHING?!?! PANIC-MODE. CODE RED. ABORT. PANIC. PANIC. CAN’T. BREATHE.
head: we’ve been through this before. keep positive thoughts. meditate… go do yoga… channel your inner strength.
heart: GODDAMMIT NOT AGAIN. HOW MANY TIMES CAN ONE DODGE A BULLET?!?!
head: we have a strong support system. we’ve been through worse. much worse. and somehow we’ve come out of that with a bit of sanity left.
heart: SUPPORT?!?! THE ONLY THING THAT CAN SUPPORT MY SANITY RIGHT NOW IS XANAX (and trader joe’s dark chocolate pretzel bark… ok and wine.) I CAN’T DO THIS. IF THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENS, LIKE REALLY HAPPENS, I’M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO TAKE IT. I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH.
head: we’re not alone in this. people do this every day. things will be fine. families have been dealing with this for years. we’ll be ok.
heart: WE ARE ALONE. ENTIRELY ALONE. NO ONE “GETS IT.” THIS IS NOT OK. AND THERE’S NO END IN SIGHT. THIS JUST WILL NOT END. THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND FUCKING AGAIN.
head: it’ll be ok… just repeat that to yourself. it’ll be ok… it’ll be ok. breathe in… breathe out… it’ll be ok.
heart: THIS IS NOT OK. WHERE’S MY DAMN PAPER BAG?!??! I CAN’T BREATHE.
head: there’s nothing you can do anyways. you have no control over this. what happens is going to happen for a reason. you may not understand the reason, but you have to trust. it’s not doing you or anyone else any good to dwell on it.
heart: THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO. NO. THING. I’M HELPLESS.
head: we’ve known this was a possibility. this has always been a possibility. this will continue to be a possibility until he’s out. we are no more safe from this situation than anyone else.
heart: I WANT TO BE SELFISH. THIS IS MY FAMILY. OUR LIVES. THE POSSIBILITY IS FUCKING WITH OUR LIVES. IT’S HERE… ON OUR DOORSTEP AND REPEATEDLY RINGING THE BELL. I DON’T WANT TO OPEN THE DOOR. LOCK IT. BARRICADE IT. KEEP US TOGETHER. INSIDE. SAFE. TOGETHER.
head: i need to be strong for jackson. i need to be strong for our family. rock = me.
heart: I’M TIRED. I’M SCARED. I’M FALLING.
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i’m not in a good place right now, obviously. please keep my family in your thoughts or prayers (if you are of the praying kind… right now, i can’t figure out if i am or not.) more than anything, please hope that things going on in and around our world improve… a lot of people need a lot of things to improve… more than just me and my family.
i hate hearing the sound of my own voice
but if it means getting the magoo on video, then i’ll sacrifice for the greater good.
also, “cheese.“
i’m too lazy to google blossom’s real name
ok, so i’m on the porch of my friend’s new home, facing the water, sipping coffee… and sweating like a pig because they are still getting air conditioners installed. it’s a GREAT home and totally reminded me of our home in jacksonville that i miss so desperately. i think i love this home and i’m so excited for my friend because i know she will truly make it THEIR HOME.
our first house was a train wreck when we moved in it. seriously, it looked as though a train had wrecked inside of the house. paul thought i was nuts (duh!!!) and i was all “oh look at the potential… we could paint this… and knock out this wall… and landscape here…” and paul was all ::WONKY EYE:: “are you fucking kidding me?!?” but over time, we made it our own and redid every single room.
so, i’m on my friend’s porch, dripping with under-the-boob-sweat, and our little men are playing together and scaring the family cat and my friend and i start discussing potty training. her little boy is 2 and some change and jackson just turned 2 at the end of april and apparently once you hit the 2 year mark, you start talking potty shit.
we’re not “training” like reading books and going sans diaper and sticker charting and big boy underpants, yet… jackson has a potty that he likes and he sits on it when either paul or i are on our toilet. jackson LOVES to give you toilet paper and LOVES to flush. cuz ya know, that’s a very satisfying feeling, to flush the toilet and watch the contents go down the drain.
my friend’s potty “training” is similar as of now, and this summer, she plans to tackle it a little more strategically. so yay for that.
at this point in our convo, she tells me that she has a friend who potty trained her 18 month old. cool. groovy. major props. i couldn’t do it… but i applaud you, my friend’s friend.
she then asks me the question that caused me to nearly drop my coffee cup…
“have you heard of those moms who potty train their infants? like their baby-babies?”
my silence and eyes popping out of my sockets cued her to continue… and she told me of someone she knew who had informed her of how she had her baby (BABY) potty trained at 4 months of age.
WHUT THE WHUT WHUT?!?!??!
my friend, not at all surprised by my surprise, goes into explicit yet informative detail about how her friend had picked up on cues and facial expressions her baby would make that were indicative of an oncoming bowel movement.
ok, i’m with ya… nodding head… recalling jackson’s scrunched up face and grunts…
my friend then tells me that after witnessing those cues from her baby, the mother then held her 4 month old over the toilet and that was how the child was potty trained.
WHUT THE WHUT WHUT?!!?!
so THEN my friend tells me that after her friend relayed this info to her, she started looking info up and found out that blossom… you remember blossom… the tv show… teenage chick who wore the denim hat with the big ass flower on it all the time… had a best friend named six… ok, i’m getting off track. ok, well, blossom apparently did this with her baby(ies) i don’t know how many children blossom has… AND since no underwear is made to fit infants (BECAUSE THEY’RE USUALLY IN DIAPERS) she made loin cloths for her baby(ies) in lieu of underwear.
alright, so if blossom can do this, i’m totally trying it out with our next kid, because then i figure by the time that kid is crawling, having been totally potty trained by 4 months of age via loin cloth underwear, i can train him/her to uncork a bottle of wine… or at the very least, start the coffee brewing in the early morning hours.
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ALSO… head over to BlogherAtHome for a chance to win a SIGNED COPY of Aidan Donnelley Rowley‘s brand spankin new novel, Life After Yes. In other words, click YES… YES… or HELL YES to enter.
Have a Sip
