poem by Margaret Mead

Remember Me:

To the living, I am gone.

To the sorrowful, I will never return.

To the angry, I was cheated,

But to the happy, I am at peace,

And to the faithful, I have never left.

I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.

So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea - remember me.

As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty - remember me.

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity - remember me.

Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved,

the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.

For if you always think of me, I will never be gone ..

~ Margaret Mead ~

Art by Tanielle Childers

The loss of Noble Ideas..

There are noble ideas I have had of parenting.. Should s, woulds.. coulds.. I have once heard of these as guilt and shame words and if used with judgement .. They absolutely can shackle me with the weight of the world and that oh so familiar feeling of not being quite good enough.  So then I try harder.. pulling the self imprisonment of the emotional balls and chains .. along with me.. holding so desperately on to the ideals and loosing a bit of reality. 

In my discussion with most of my friends and even some strangers or as I like to refer to them minute acquaintances because who knows maybe I will meet them again..I note that many of us maybe even a majority have had this type of experience.. What feels great is when I drop the weights..I hold the keys or are the shackles even truly locked.

I look at the moment and realize.. gain and good, loss and cost...  Don't get me wrong loss is not always negative and gain isn't always good.. (note the 40 lbs this past year gained perfect example of not necessarily good gain).   So I move toward emotional gain.. and investment.. And I let go of those "noble ideas" 

Noble idea: Ittie needs to go to bed on school nights between 8:30 and 9:00 PM.  I hold to this on most days.  I am proud of our schedule.  As a mom I feel that I am helping my child be prepared for life and be energized for school.. (pat pat on back) However, after a week of Avery having the stomach flu and missing out on making her tree (optional assignment) for class to hang with all the other kids. Other homework and house activities brought us up to the bedtime ritual hour.. As I started to give the nightly routine I looked at her.. At the paper that lay waiting to be cut into a tree.  I felt the fight of the noble idea.. She is to go to bed.. she has school.. She may be tired.. yet without the tree.. she will be excluded.. "Ittie brush your teeth, put on your pj's then lets do this tree."  I attempt to cut out the tree.. Well lets just say my attempt at realism in artistic expression ends up more like an abstract.. Harriet to the rescue.  A perfectly cut 2 foot tree.  I pull out buttons and old cards, an extra picture of Papa and Ittie, glue sticks and stone marbles, glitter.. All the things you need to make a paper tree come to life.  We cut presents out of wrapping paper.  The smile on her face as we create this masterpiece and the pride she has in her work.  I know that tonight that the noble idea is more of a guideline.. Tonight its about us, this tree and her sense of belonging, creation and sharing.

Noble idea:  I should bake for all the school functions/ parties and just because.  Along with becoming the oven master, I need to get up and make breakfast.  My mother made the best from scratch sugar cookies.  She baked on weekends for us and we devoured the dough, the cookies.  She made a mile high french toast pile on Saturday mornings with smoky links  to be accompanied by a lake of Mrs. Buttersworth maple syrup.  Enough that if you weren't sticky down your chin to your elbows then you hadn't had enough french toast and links.  Michelle and I had patterns cut into our pb and j sandwiches. She also held a full time job.   It was truly amazing.  MY ideal.. I should do this for Avery .   What this creates for me is a sense of guilt every time I fail, when I substitute the Eggo for the french toast even if Avery prefers the Eggo.  (nutrigrain got to work in a bit of nutrition).  I feel bad when I had her a banana to eat as we run out the door in the morning.    My reality.  Avery isn't me, I am not my mom and this is our life.  She likes Eggos.  A banana is a good food and Avery has no complaints.  I do on Valentines day wake up and make heart shaped pancakes.  Some weekends we randomly make cookies, brownies, pie dough cinnamon rolls for the fun of it.  I let go of the Idea and the guilt and now I am learning to enjoy us. 

Noble Idea:  Keeping up with the house..the outside.. the pond must be pretty.   Honestly I am pulled to reality with something has to give.. I work 8 hours a day,  I come home to usually work around the farm in nice weather another 6 to 7 hours.  When Ittie is home and during the school year add time out to help with homework, dinner.  any extra curricular activity..  Laundry.. Dishes..  Again something has to give and often its the dishes or floors.. laundry waits until the weekend.. The fridge is a project that happens on Saturday mornings with a strong cup of coffee.   And there are still those boxes in the rooms that are waiting for me to go through them.. I am waiting for the first good snow..

I have fretted over and over about being the good mom.. and what defines that.. being the good partner and what Noble Ideas define this role.. At the end it breaks down for me like this.. I am doing all that I can and some days more.. some days I fall short.  I assist, I call I try to keep up with my nieces and nephews.. Friends and family.  I help with homework while putting something in the oven because that gives us more time then the stove top or grill.  Math is practiced while cooking.. Reading is practiced from a recipe as Ittie calls me out on MOM too much Vanilla.. and I say.. well a little extra vanilla can't hurt.. (I have kept that Noble Idea.) 

I love earnestly and deeply and hug my kid every night I have her and on the nights she is with her father I send her a virtual squeeze and love.  I look over to Harriet.. appreciate that this wonderful person puts up with my neurotic self and the heavy load I sometimes carry with all my "Noble Ideas".  I am grateful for her calming presence that refocuses me to say what is possible today.. what is the most important.. She reminds me to balance all of this weight with levity of humor and that it is OK to let go of the ideas of the past and make my own today..

Divides..

I am tormented by the degree of divide in the country.  I wonder if this is how it felt before the civil war, civil rights movement.   Fear, Accusations, Anger, a powder keg waiting for a match to be thrown close enough.

Did my mother feel this same tension when she lived in DC in 68?

My teachers taught me a solid lesson about history it wasn't to remember the good old days it was to understand and learn from so we did not make the mistakes as our forefathers did.

But it seems that we are.  

The Roman's slaughtered Christians and others that didn't fit their mold , The Inquisition, The Nazi's killed Jews, Homosexuals, Jehovah witness's.  In Ireland Protestants and Catholic's collided, Apartheid, KKK, Bosnia, Albania, Stalinist and that is just in the short history..

Why is it that we have to have the Samaritians.. The out group.  What is it about our nature that keeps us from tolerating differences.  Note not harmful/ taking advantage of holding power over differences.  But lifestyles.  Why do we need to feel "right"  what is it about this short lived notion that compels us to judge, condemn and deny?

My erroneous privilege

Words... They're innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they're no good any more... I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you're dead.”
― Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing: A Play

A couple years ago .. I in my stupidity said something that was incredibly "WHITE" to my friends of diverse back grounds.. and I it slipped out from my lips .. the awareness grew but I could not even take it back..

My friend Claudius promptly summed it up.. as "Gretchen you can try to put lipstick on that pig .. but it is still a pig. "  Thank God for Claudius and Andrea's love acceptance and look of she is white .. which is a look I have tried not to get..   My intent was not racism, slander, bigotry.. But my  laziness in challenging myself, filters .. scripts and filters, these things  I believed I had conquered .. slipped..    I can not even tell you what it was but I have the look of my friends faces burned into my memory.  People I love and never want to disappoint.

I slipped .. and then I tried to put lipstick on that pig in embarrassment.

Learning moment for me.. humility.. and a note about what I represent even when I am earnest  in my intent.   But a truth about latent scripting  which I need to continue to challenge within myself.

"According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2014 there were more than 20 million children under 5 years old living in the U.S., and 50.2 percent of them were minorities."
https://www.usnews.com/news/articles/2015/07/06/its-official-the-us-is-becoming-a-minority-majority-nation

There are all types of data that can be sited like above.. Some use it to justify bigotry, hatred, gentrification.  For me it means finally the playing field may become more equal.    I hope just by the masses minority goes away .. its such a crappy term and human , culture.. dignity, worth.. comes into focus.   And I hope that I continue to fight my "whiteness" to continue to become more human.. To realize that I come from German Lutheran marrying and Scotch/ Irish Methodist.. (Scandal) for my grandparent.. That I continue to teach the lesson that if we can find such silly things as "skin, religion, sexual orientation " to hate each other .. then we can also pick more silly things to Love and Like each other.... Favorite Movie,  activity.. .. sports.. food, values..

i will probably have more lipstick on pig moments if I am being realistic..  I am trying not to.. I have no excuses for them .. I am trying not to let past scripts interfere with current beliefs and values.. And I am sorry.. for each moment

It is ever so important in this moment in history.. while those 5 year old.. now 8 .. are watching that those of us who are white.. admit humbly our errors and work with effort for values of true equality, worth and dignity for all ..  Which means we can not tolerate the tasteless joke.. We must challenge each others scripts and attitudes.

40s. Not where I thought i would be

43 keeps buzzing in my mind.. where am I.. what does my life amount to?  Why do I wake up at 2:30 in the morning almost every morning and will this dark shading ever leave my eyes.. ??

It is an existential moment.. Ittie is 12 , Sam 29 .. Harriet and I have been together for 7 years.  I get that I am blessed.. it is not lost on me. maybe this is why I feel more stress today then I have ever..   Knowing what blessings I have in my life, knowing how fragile the balance is.  Knowing that we are struggling and succeeding at the same time..

It is in this avenue of existential crisis .. maybe its midlife that I am finding my new rebellion and voice.   I find myself reacting will righteous anger to the assumption that people on SNAP (Food stamps ) are takers.. That SSD and SSI are entitlements.  That medicare and medicaid are for takers not givers... beliefs.. conjectures..labels:  laziness, drug users, the degenerates of society, or only those deserving pity use these systems..

In my years of social work, most of the people I met that received subsidized assistance, were honestly hard working good people that were just trying to make it.  The local economy could no longer support them, they didn't have the money to move or the resources to move due to the higher cost of where the jobs were located.  These were people that got family, honor, blood and bonds. Church and God.   These are the same people I grew up with , the families that worked in the factories, until the factories left.  

We are each one step away from a catastrophe.. My family fully gets this.  When both Harriet and I were working, when all was well and magical.  We made 6 figures, going to Wolf Lodge for a weekend was easy a no brainer,    The girls had big Christmases, Birthdays .. We didn't stress.  There was enough money in the bank to survive the first 3 major crisis... We actually made it a year after the Quad Bi Pass without major issues financially.  Things were OK .. tighter but OK.

As it started to crash and we had to make decisions.. pay the credit card that you could pay 6 months ago or the Cardiologist .. You pick Cardiologist.   Meds.. or the second  house payment that we are trying to rent/ sale in a market that  was inundated with properties.  When meds with Insurance and coupons .. deductibles .. are 400 a month for one person .. and for two 500 add 3 we are at 600 .. Then add each copay for each specialist .. (there is about 4 visits to the Doctor per month).  This is all maintenance.   We actually have a primary physician who cares and is tracking H care, coordinating between the providers.  I contribute H's success to her grit and our continuum .. Do we give that up ? All evidence based practice says NO.. Coordination of care is critical to the added life expectancy of any one but especially those with chronic congenital issues. 

So when I hear people say this phrase:  "Live within your means.. "   I am  sick I am angry ..  I want to shout from the rooftops.. We did .. We were .. the debt was paid.. We had savings ..For the first time in years I had 3000 in mine .. H had over 20000 in hers.. ..When healthcare is 44% of your expenditures, when debt from buying the house.. debt we could pay when we both worked, when bankruptcy isn't an option because liquidation isn't an option due to rent being more expensive then our house payment and utilities. When you have too much equity but no credit  How do we live within our means??

So I sit back.. I discuss the benefits of a single payer system and then opt in insurance like other countries.   I believe we need to reform big "pharma"   I am for medical marijuana.. it could replace like 3 of the meds .. and have less side affects with more positive impact.  So I challenge and talk to whom ever I can get to listen and if you sense there is a passion of life or death for me.. Well there is .

My wife sits before me.. in pain.. trying to be the joyful, gritty soul she truly is.. but the pain takes over .. her heart the physical one.. doesn't fully deliver the blood and oxygen through the body like it is suppose to and her face pails.   I smile trying to be strong.. sometimes the anxiety crosses my face and I just end up annoying H.because I am too "can I do anything for you" .   She believes I see her as weak in these moments and it is more of a reflection of my helplessness.   i can't fix her heart.. I can't vanquish her pain.. and I am trying to fix what I can .Yes i hear the world on my shoulders cracking my back..    Other care-givers you get it .. Yes?   

So mid way into 43.. the first of my friends crossing the bridge to 44 .. our mid 40s .. this is not the place I had imagined my life being.. Of course many other 40 somethings are saying Preach.. we aren't were we imagined either.  Others will contribute my landing to poor choices.. I can own some of that until I met H.  

Now at 43.5  I have the world before me.. choices to make .. paths to be taken .. paths to say no to and never look back... I have 3 others that travel with me and my decisions are not my own.   I am blessed .. I have profound love, sense of connection and purpose.  I have a beautiful family.. I guess I truly struggle with what keeps every other 40 something up at night.. How do I continue to keep these people safe, when I fully understand how fragile and resilient life is ?? 

Hero's Legacy

With all the super hero movies out lately.. I must weigh in and say I have always weighed in toward our mperfect darker heros.  Batman, most of Marvel Comics.  

They are forced into positions that make them often choose between what they want to what they need to do and utilzing their "special" powers to go beyond.  However, there are moments where as fantastically they succeed .. they often fail, fall short.  

I like this because it feels more real and more like life. it is a metaphor for the hero's in my life.  Complex, human, as great as they are with fault.  I am OK with this.. I love them all the more for it. 


One such woman is my grandmother.  I have always said I am so happy I was born into the grandchild generation for Mary Myers for to be her child .. well had to be daunting with the way she has governed out family and laid out expectations of behavior, norms.  Her enabling of some destructive behavior, her rigidness with others.. And for me absolute acceptance and support.  

For many years, we were the four grandchildren.  Each of us loving her, respecting her,  I was partially raised by her, school pick ups, rescues for the latchkey kid that locked herself out, reese cups in the fridge, a nurse to banged up knees and elbows with peroxide and neosporin from the medicine closet, pie dough cinnamon roles on Sundays, the

mashed potatoe beaters, french toast made on the sleep over mornings because that was my favorite.    

Seamstress extrodinair.. sewing a prom dress for my sister and all of my sundresses that I loved when I was little, patches to the knees of my jeans that wore out so quickly.  

No pressure to play 
with dolls or other stereotyped toys, a stern warning to get out of the cherry tree.. (again and again)  "you'll break your noggin", " Are you to big for your britches to not listen".  On my most serious offenses . I would get to read the paddle that had a little deer and bear on it.. "For little deers with Bear Butts"  and then the "you are my Little dear .. do you want me to bear your butt".."No grandma" was my reply.   A few years ago.. Grandma gave me the paddle with a wink and said I think you have earned this.  

At the same time as I had absolute acceptance, I watched her rule of the family.  Her judgement, quick sharp words.  the trepidation of approach from others.  I knew that I was the exception not the norm.  I was her "Mert" she my "trouble" together we flurrished.  She is my hero.  Maybe she needed to be someones hero as much as I needed her to be mine.

She was a cleanliness queen, plastic runways from the front door to the kitchen were left down for family to walk on so the pristene mustard shag carpeting (that lasted from late 70s to 2005) would not be hurt,  These only came up for special occasions, card night, class reunions..etc..Sheets over all the furniture except grandpa's chair, shoes off by the door on newspaper over the air intake. Coats hung or place in the dowstairs bedroom.. Walls and banisters/ woodwork washed monthly, dusting and vaccuming daily.  The joke was grandma was white glove approved.. a white glove taken over any surface in her house would still be clean.   When friends came over she would apologize for the "mess" .. and the standare reply was "Oh Mary the house is lovely".  When my babyshower took place at the white house on Cole St. My friends looked at my aged grandmother when she said "well I washed the walls before you arrived" with astonishment that this 85 year old woman was up washing the walls that very morning.. (the plastic and sheets were also removed..  It was a special event.. )

She notoriously used me as a mule for smuggling "Rumballs" at Christmas to a teacher in my elementary school, this took place from my time in elementary school,  middle school and then to the church I joined with the same teacher in highschool years.  For years I as an underage mule took this liquor laced nutty winter treat as in a lovely christmas tin, wrapped in a ziploc to help disguise the "RUM smell" that would if not hid behind plastic make me smell like and 8 year old who had tied one off the night before with some bacardi and walnuts..  to a family friend.  with just the "I need you to take this package to Mrs.. " and me happily complying as I took the tin.. Grandma sternly with a voice I knew not to cross.. "those are for her .. not you".. " Yes Grandma" in confirmation

When I called to tell her I was having a child out of wed lock, and I had no intention of Marrying the man.  That we had issues and I was not going to tie myself financially as well as by a child at this point.  My grandmother was truly worried.  It is the first time that she "spoke about tradition" and this isn't what we do.  She spoke to my aunt, my mother.. but not me.. So when I heard these things I called... "Grandma I heard that you have concerns"  ( She had been at my grandfather's grave tending it, plunging the spade into the ground:  "Carl do you see what our granddaughter is doing.. The baby will be a bastard.. Do you see?"  )  This idea of a "bastard" in the family and hardship was bringing her great distress.  So i confronted it:   I simply said.  "I hear you are concerned about the baby being labeled a bastard, grandma they don't put that on the birth certificate anymore, and Avery will have her father's last name, she will know where she comes from on both sides, I won't let her be a bastard"... a sigh came from the other end.  

"Gretchen, we just didn't do it this way in my time... I know times have changed.  I am glad she will have her fathers name on the birth certificate. "  I  followed up with a quote from my sister.  "Well, grandma as Suzanne said when I told her.in reference to me ".You have never done anything in a conventional sense.. why start now"    ... My grandmother said "true" and then "I love you"  Grandma;s and my conversation then turned to the pregnancy itself, how it was going, how was the room for the baby progressing, did I need anything so on and so forth.  I called my sister to tell her about my attempt to allieviate the fears.... My sister upon telling her the story stated.. "You told her I said that... ahhh.. what did she say"..   The stabbing at my grandfather's grave ceased.  She wasn't especially happy that I wasn't married but she again accepted me.

Two years later.. I called her.. with a familiar phrase "Grandma.. because I love you and respect you I want you to hear this from me before anyone else.. .. "   a pause a "yes drawn and lingered with a good... " I said "I am dating a woman."  This was my scariest coming out moment.. But this woman who only expected honesty from me.. then proceeded forward with "Am I to love you any less?"  I retorted well I hope not .. which is why I am calling you.. She went on with "Well I don't, this isn't what I would have chosen for you.. but I love you and when am I meeting this girl."  She then follow up with the line from years earlier  "you haven't done anything in a conventional sense, and every family needs one of those thank God you are ours."    The healing, empowerment.. love covered the distance.. My fear of being out truly was stripped at that moment.. 

Here this Conservative, Methodist, Matriarch who loves me and accepts me.. Be wary world because if Mary Myers could see all of me, then your judgement is nothing..  Maybe that has been the truth the entire time for me.. My grandmother's forgiveness, strength, belief and ability to let me live has fostered this faulty, strong enduring loving soul. 

The times I would sit at her table and have talks about my parents, my anger, my sadness, confusion.. hurt.. My successes, my passions.. My joys.. over a coke, a snack on brown vinyl and bronzy steel chairs, wood paneling on the walls and love mingling around me.  In the midst of all of this was my hero,  she helped create part of the chaos and turmoil, she had her flaws but we me.. she was my launching point, my safe harbor.. My Marvel comic star.. No cape necessary.. Apron, polyester slacks, blouses,  glasses, lipstick.. her costume.. Her soul radiates from her eyes.. even today as she slips away from us in moments.. When she does lock on .. you see her.. sparkle of rebellion.. and of love..



   

Playing in the Shadows

All the coolness and ease of the dark,  I slump down on the top stair, feet firmly planted on the plank board below.  my knees are my elbows resting place.  my arms outward triangle , hands clasped , fingers entwind, thumbs crossing then uncrossing rubbing ever so slightly.. hmm a bit rough and warn.. lines have deepend some on this hands.  

the light below slips onto the bottom steps and landing in jagged rays.  It is a warm yellow.  I know I should go there, I should move both metaphorically and physcially move.. but I linger here in the shadows.. 

Blue light radiates from the open doorway to my side.. making twilight shadows dance upon my back.  Enough that my fingernails pick up the hue and this tint amuses my soul for a second pausing the stream of thoughts which have brought me to this silent place.. I am looking for solice.. 

Shoulders react to the figuretive boulders that they have been carrying for weeks.. and I buckle some beneath the weight.  Neck aching .. my head throbs and I raise my hands to meet my head.. Thumbs pinching the bridge of my nose.. index fingers vertically pressed as if in prayer against my forehead.. as if this pressure and sybolism will stop for a second the thoughts that try to press on..

" Breathe" says my inner voice..and I do.. air goes through my nostrils .. deeply.. chest rises and falls.. my shoulders relax some.. and then it happens.. I was trying to hold this back but this is why I am here in this darkness.. The fear, the pain, the anxiety come crashing from my chest .. exploding out through my body .. I close up.. almost into a fetal sit.. and the tears cascade down my face..   That breathe was the key to all that I have kept tucked in  and i came to the shadows to let it go.. 

"What are you doing out here" comes a voice to my side.. H has emerged from the bedroom to find me sitting in this place.  "Praying" is my answer.. 

My return to the present consciousness allows me to hear the little tune that has start down in the world of light.  It bounces , not to be muted in the darkness up the cavern to my ears.  I can not help but smile and wipe away the tears.  Ittie sings in the shower, soon there will be a "mama. <fill in the question and bed time delay>"  

I do not have time to live or linger here in the shadows .. on the edge of light.  I am called to be more, This weight I carry is shifted now because I have a bigger and brighter calling.  I rise.. walking creekly down each step not sure if its the wood , or me that is making those sounds.  I enter the brightness just in time.. "mama" is a elfish voice in the bathroom.

"Yes, Ittie" my usual reply as I walk over to meet these greenish / blueish eyes that hold a very important question: "Is my hair OK"   .

.I take my hand rub it over her wet locks and ask.. "I am checking for shampoo?" .. a nod of confirmation.  "yes, your hair is good."

A look of success crosses her face.  a quick "thanks" and the door is shut, the song begins again as she brushes.  And I am in the light.  No shadow dwelling for me.. My prayer was answered.

MY LOve

I feel my eyes flirt between green and intense blue
confused on softness and the intensity that rushes through me
You are here..
and I awaken..
I am called to something greater even in your silence.
You are not perfect but yet perfect for me..
Your essence meets me on  the fields between our scripted castles
Here is our home.. soft without the impenetrable hardness of shells of our past and current dangers
We linger here warm in cozy .vulnerability..
Stronger, safer in this place rather than surrounded by lonely stone.
I love you.. always and infinitely...

shared investment.

Ever have those moments in life that you turn around and go Wow.. against the odds we accomplished this.   How did this group come together and gel so well?

My team .A group of misfit Toys are pretty awesome.. This little brain trust of unique individuals.. I have my guy "Whiskey" the Tennessean James Bond.   My proper Mississippi Woman .. who loves to remind me that I don't truly make cornbread.. I make cake if sugar graces the top.  My La Nina. aka BAMA aka Pitbull, who ability to lead surprises herself sometimes.   The Bulldog" who calms my demeanor and uprising with the beginning of "Darling (g is missing) now.. "  There were the "boys"  .. Mr Romainia and my network goddess. 

The souls above were the core.. the essence.. with my Right hand being from BAMA and my left a smooth sip of Whiskey..  I asked.. and they answered.. they answered with diligence and loyalty.  They worked with soul and laughter.  While our quest was hard and fraught with an uphill race and challenges, they continued to endure, accomplish and give more.   I compared it to getting to the Eagles Nest. The team engaged each task and each gain.  The friendships came with the work.  Teasing and laughter shared joys and stress. 

When you put in 5 weeks worth of work in two weeks ..Time / days run into each other.. It becomes about the goals not the hours... . When all you have is each other at night and no energy to give but rely on a shared experience.When People are willing to share a bit of themselves, a bonds form.   Smiles stay.. Energy comes from no where except the share investment. 

We are all very different, in different places in our lives.  We each silently (or not) have our reasons for doing this work. We all chose this work to travel but everything has a cost.  Our cost is the following: An Aching pain:  It hurts to be away from those we love back home. We share the burden of that guilt and loss.  We get each others' moments of homesickness however it maybe expressed.  We each feel the pang of guilt that goes with enjoying the moment with each other, verses being on the phone, video chatting with our special someone be it sig other or child back home..  We each understand why often at the end of a 14 hour day its too much. Too much to rehash.. too much to try to explain.  Too much to give ourselves a different level and we understand the guilt we feel because we have no more energy to give to those we love at home.

We nod.  We say take some time.  We cover for each other.  My staff have threatened to ship me back to Muncie for a weekend.  (I was getting  grumpy)   BAMA has threatened/ promised to turn me into Harriet for not taking care of myself.  I was with this group when Harriet and Ittie were in a wreck while I was on the phone with Ittie.  (near miss of head on collision..) They looked at me and said if you need to go home "we got this".  It was the perfect answer to a mother/partner who just experience a terrifying event and only wanted to see and feel that both Ittie and Harriet were OK.  

This Band of Comrades.. team mates can look at me and say "we have this" and I with every fiber in my being know that they do.. I trust them implicitly with that saying.  I have no reason not to.. they have met the mark time and time again.

I didn't expect to walk away from this project missing people.  I honestly didn't expect the success that we have had. Don't get me wrong I expected us to get the project done.  I knew the road and path would be hard.  I knew I had two great people to help make that happen. Even if they didn't know that is what I had in-store for them.   I had hoped and strove for a smooth transition, to meet all of our goals. Successful go live with the normal amount of work tickets. But now as finish at the top of the game, we have  the standards for our sector with an amazing turn around time on results. 

 I walk away with friends and amazing  team-mates.I want to continue working with this group.. I have a vision of the great things we could accomplish.  But often as in life this chapter .. this moment is ending.  We are off to other assignments in 5 days. I find my self ecstatic to go home, sad to know that my next encounter won't be with them.


My Comrades have become part of my life tapestry.  I will carry them with me.. optimistic that our paths will cross again.  I am forever changed.. bettered by the shared investment in time.  I hope that I too have had such an impact.. , 

   

My Christmas present..

Today I get a call from school.. Life pauses.. It's Monday.. Ittie had her asthmatic black eyes Thursday through Saturday and they started looking better by Sunday.. I thought we had beat it.. but its the school calling.. crap.. I answer waiting to hear the .. "Gretchen.. Ittie.. "and it is the nurses voice on the phone.  The school nurse and I have become friends over the last three years.  Her in laws farm the land around us.  Ittie sees "J" and hugs her instantly. 

But this time it's different as I have the bit of anxiety that goes with the routine .. and packing my bag to get into the car .. just waiting to say the rudimentary "I am on my way".. J pauses me with .. "nothing is wrong."

I slowly say "ok" trying to remember what I may have forgotten or .. alright Avery had an accident but Jan is just calling to let me know.. He pants are ripped.. and a few other possibilities parade through my mind as a CNN banner..

J led on to say.. "I needed to tell you what Ittie said today"  OK now I am definitely peaked.. knowing about how Ittie likes to talk about the "mating" rituals of our animals on the farm.. I have been waiting for this call.. I brace myself..

And then it turns.. J goes on to tell me how during Inhaler time. Ittie and her classmate had stated they both had run ins with Santa this weekend.  J going along with it ask both Ittie and her little friend what was the one thing they wanted.. The boy stated he wanted a Clay set.. or something like that and then J said.. "Gretchen Ittie stated she wanted to spend more time with her mom and dad because that is what its about.. and after that she wants a Furby .. then Ittie reiterated if she had to have on thing though it would be the time."    J stated this made her cry and she had to share it.

I sat in awe.. so proud .. so touched..   both by Ittie's answer and J taking the time to call and share the story with me.  What a gift.. That's my Christmas.. right there. I don't know if it will be always like this.. I hope so.. I hope that we continue to foster this amazing attitude and wonder Ittie has toward life.  

I am thankful that I have a school for Ittie and the staff that love her and cares.. But honestly Ittie makes it hard for people not to like her.  She has that thing.. It radiates from her.. Her heart pours out.  I am lucky.  I am grateful for her presence in my life.

we bought work

The mix of clover, grasses.. misplaced plants otherwise know as weeds underneath my rubber soles glisten with a crisp cool dew.  Not the dew of summer that seems to mist the plant but the rounded full reflective cold droplets of fall .. water that is transitioning waiting.. to be called frost.  

I step forward.. leash on the pup that has entered our lives... walking her.. allowing her to finish her business I make steps toward starting the task of the morning chores.  Chickens out.. ducks.. Hay to horses.. Head count on the cats.. Jay.. Feline...Mac...Kittty KItty .. ahh there is my yellow tiger looking as the indignant ruler of the farm.  

The fields are flat.. It seems as if they were harvested way to early but truthfully it was right on time.   Oh how time flies.. there as wisps of stalks left from the soybeans that surrounded us.. Next year most likely corn.. 

I sweep a gaze .. Remind myself to take a trip down to the pond tonight after work..Something was there about 3:30 making noise and I would like to spy the tracks if any are left in the bank.. This will tell me if a trap is needed.  

The guineas are screeching.. its a very abrupt wake up alarm and I wish to get away from it this morn.. but they follow me to file their notice of alarm.  They are the neighbor hood watch or a group of Gladys Kravitz. yelling about every little thing..I imagine its something like this:  Hey the cat is over there.. do you know what he said to us, the horses nosed Julie over here..  What is that dog doing .. another dog.. the little dogs aren't enough.  The Turkeys are hogging all the food.. you aren't going to get a hog are you.... and so on..   I hasten my pace.. 

The barn is a true red against the golds, greens and browns that are evolving.  apples fall to the ground in the orchard.. The pond reflects a blue of the Fall sky and is highlighted as the cat tails stalks have been spun to gold.  

Bo neighs his impatience with my ponder and wishes me to return to the task.. which includes throwing the hay that now lays at my feet into the Paddock.  All 6 equine noses and ears are turned my way.. Each looking at me as if to say .. Hello umm yes its nice you are appreciating the world around you.. but about that delicious breakfast at your feet.. umm could you throw that over and then continue with your wonder.  

I throw the blades to the horses.. Doling them out in three piles The snorting and neighs stop replaced by a munching sound.. The pup is as far away from the fence as possible.  she doesn't really know what to think of the horses at this time other then fear.  Will have to work on that.. add that to the task list.. Fencing, insulating.. patching.. dog horse normalization... sand in barn , drainage.. fall mulching.. composting, worming.. I whisper one thing at a time as I picture the hand written piece of paper with the list appear.. 

Look around.. Look to the watch.. the read out lets me know i need to get a move on.. I walk back .. up the rickety stairs.. the one hand rail has come loose.. noted ..and its mental hand written form takes another line on the to dos.. 

My grandmother stated that we bought work when we bought the farm and she was right.. but at the end of the night and the list that grows and the animals that relay their needs and wants.. We also bought peace, ponder, a place to grow, learn.. love.. a bit of heaven for us.. 


 

End days..

I stare at her lying in the bed .  Oxygen hooked up and cannula placed in her nose.  Cath bag hanging from the side of the bed.  Her grey white hair straighter then I have ever noticed it.  The strands are thin but its depth is thick .. much like mine.. She smiles.. 

Ittie approaches the bed.. "Careful of those tubes Ittie.. don't step on them OK" .. escapes my throat in the most controlled voice I can muster..  I am looking at my hero.. and now I must be brave.. I know what my role is .."Why mama?" Ittie states with the innocent pondering look.  "Because if you step on them you could hurt Grandma.. they are attached to her" .. "Oh" is my answer and Ittie proceeds with caution but love.  

"OH it IS Avery.".. my grandma exclaims.. Ittie's head is over the side rail as she says hi and reaches out.  "You yelled at me the last two times I appeared with out her, think I was going to do that again. I do listen you know.." leaves my mouth with a hint of playfulness and a smirk across my lips.  For a moment its just us.. as it has always been a playful exchange.  

Ittie curiously looks around.. answers the questions about school, shows Grandma the new puppy,.. and then as normal for a girl her age squirms and starts looking uncomfortable...She journey's to the other room.  Hell I am uncomfortable.  Its hard to see Mary Myers frail.. vulnerable... bed ridden.. She is an icon of my life.. I remind my self of the normalcy of this .. a life long lived.  My duty to my grandmother.. and then the tears come.. She looks me in the eye and pats my hand...  I fight to hold back the flood I feel.. I am now the 7 year  old.. 12 .. 15 .. 21  27... and again she consoles my aching heart as always.. I play with her hair.. It's really the only thing I can do.. I am honest in my tears .. but I am disappointed in myself  for not being STRONG .. funny.. but I was honest.. 

I grieve .. yes my grandmother is alive and I am thankful.. thankful for the time we have.. the moment .. the love.. but I also grieve for the loss.. the loss of her freedom.. some of her sharpness... and if I am truly honest the loss of the image I have always had of her.   I grieve what I know is the road to come.. The hardships.. My heart and shoulders are heavy and sink... but this can only last for a little bit.. I look back to her.  

She fades from the present for a moment.. She looks at me.. and says .." that was?".. pointing to the direction that Avery left.. She is going through the names silently.. Grandma is doing her best to try to mouth which one of us she thinks visited..   "Avery, grandma.. that was Avery.. "     "Oh" slips out in a exasperated sigh.. She is looking tired.  Then with a quick return to present.. "what are you doing with another dog?"   I smile and laugh thankful for the gift of presence... "the dog found us.. and did you see the wee ones face.. do you want to tell her we shouldn't have it?"  .. She looks at me with a look of usual suspicion that is questioning my true motives.. "I guess not"  with as much of a haughty laugh she can handle.  

She is looking tired again.. She looks from the TV to me.. and her eyes dull.. her lids start to close.. I call Ittie in and lift her up to kiss grandma..  Itties voice rings true.. "I love you grandma"  .." I love you too my dear " is Mary's return..   I look her in the eye.. again I am now the 7 year old..  and state with an innocence and honesty straight from my soul " I love you grandma.. "   her answer.." I love you to my dear.."

I cling to that sound.. those words.. her image of love for me ..The wonderful gift of her being and the 39 years I have had to spend hearing her reprimand, banter.. love.. console.. Sharing  the woman who she was and is  .. I am lucky to share time with her in her end days be it  a few days  of a few months or years.. 

The Dance in the Gray.

On the sea of gray I move.. Today my journey's sound track is the echo of a violin with a piano.. Toying in the recesses of my mind.  The violin taunts the piano with its merry echo as the piano keys strike and then the echo drawing across the strings with hastened movement almost laughing at the roughness of the piano's steps and sound..

I weave and maneuver my way with the ebb and flow of this exchange.  Seeing what is before me and around me but pulled in by the tune and the play that is happening.. I see the players hands in my mind their mouths with the smirk as they play their lines in triumph only to have it echoed by the other.

I let myself feel the music.. and I continue forward.. Remembering that I have a task and end goal.  This path that I am on will lead to an ending with turning away from music wander and enter a world of tech, keystrokes, phone calls..   

For a few more moments though I am here.. absorbed in the very essence of the notes exchanging the tempo changes.. The dance..

I pull into my spot in the garage.. I hesitate to turn the key .. Just a few more seconds.. I feel the vibration and a small amount of irritation that it has begun before I even enter the doorway.  The key turns.. The dance ends and I traverse the last parts of gray on foot.. Buzz.. Hello.. this is Gretchen Speaking..

The Bus is out there.. watch that curb.

I wake up cold sweat.. .... The grave chill  still feels on my body.  This time the dream about dark emptiness.. nothing.. the void..  My mind toys with me.. what if its true nothing after this life.. what if its not yours to have.. What if there are multiple lives but you don't remember anything so its as if you haven't lived before.. WHAT IF>>>>

I remind myself of my spirituality.. my beliefs.. I try to calm my inner psychosis that is going on..  and I tremble but feel some resemblance of calm settling back in.. The invisible hand lifts from my chest a little bit.

I know why I feel this way.. It is not about my eternal soul.  It's about Harriet's diagnosis.  It's about the health problems that loom over her and us and its my fear of life without her.  The void is my dark lonely place.

My world is a much happier place with her.  Not rainbows and unicorns.. OK maybe rainbows...(hmmm). Fulfillment is the word.  Yet it is threatened and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.  I can coach, cheer, nag.  I can cook the right things.  But I can't control what is happening inside her.  This for a control freak as myself.  The puzzle solver that I am, a work around queen.  A believer that there is always a solution. is a nightmare.  My solution is acceptance and I am not there yet.

Acceptance..Damn that word.. not my forte.  I have survived and moved ahead by challenging not accepting. I have embraced myself, found my love by not accepting the "rules" but my listening to my heart and using my head.  So acceptance.. I growl.. I find it unsettling.

My mind shouts:.. She has worked so hard.  she is trying..  This is not fair.. My anger at the reality.. Her heart is weak.. And life is forever different.  It is unpredictable.. But these statements are true about everyday.  However the statements of: you don't know from day to day.. I mean you could be here and gone the next,  don't bring me peace.. It freaks me out.. I want to scream at the person.. I understand that .. you don't think I understand that I am living that scenario.  But the metaphorical you could get hit by a bus is Harriet's heart.  It's real and everyday I step off that curb knowing a bus is waiting.

I realize that my intense focus isn't helping.  My cognitive realization isn't doing much to help settle the anxiety that is boiling up and over into my dreams and reality.  So I search believing that more understanding will give me a better place to work from.  I read the prognosis.  The transition of the disease... This is not helping.  I go and talk to my experts.. The solemn expressions.. The gravity to their tone.. not exactly soothing.. its just kindling to my already blazing worry.

Now I wish for ignorance.. but I can't turn back that clock and not that I really want the lack of knowledge, but I want the ability and freedom to not worry because I don't understand the magnitude of the situation. Just for a moment.

Do I think I am being dramatic about this.. yes.. do I believe the reality is severe? absolutely.  Do I realize that by freaking out about Harriet's heart like I am is not helpful to either one of us.. on a second by second basis which truly makes me annoyed with myself.  I know mind wrenching right..

I wish I was a better person in that I rise above this madness all the time to be there for the person I love.  I have failed and honestly will fail from time to time again.  I do what I can.  I tell her ever day that I love her.  I appreciate the moments for what they are and I dance with her when given the opportunity.. and I do love a good slow dance..

Ya that bus is out there.. but I am hoping it continues to stall... I will continue have this fear.. but with it I have my appreciation for the person I love.. I am lucky .. 3 years to 40 .. I don't know what we will have together.. I know it will be full of love, a bond that grows, strength and endurance.. I keep telling Ittie that bravery isn't the lack of fear its facing your fear and dealing with it.. So time to live that one for myself and Harriet.

Life on the Farm .. The New Normal

Ahhh.. Stop him.. .. BUNNY.. get Jay.. NO RILEY.. BUNNY...

The little rabbit is now only sheltered by Harriet's hand as the dog flanks from the right and the cat from the left.  Harriet playing the role of the Pelican in Finding Nemo.. Just jump in my mouth aka hand bunny its your only chance.

A few minutes later Harriet is holding a baby rabbit with a bouncing Ittie and a bouncing Affenpinscher by her side.. both wanting to see the bunny for polar opposite reasons..

Harriet if we just find the "hole" we can put it back.. Me umm I think the hole was found and that is our survivor..  Rabbit looks nervously but takes the cuddles and pets.   So now the question.. what to do with the bunny that we just kept from being Jay or Riley's afternoon snack. 

"Harriet if you want it to survive we can put it in the last rabbit hutch and raise it until its bigger.. We have hay.. and sweet mix .  We have the bunny water bottles.". I get a look of really it should be let go.  I reply with. " If you let it go.. it will be dinner.".  Not that I disagree with her but the reality of effort that was just put forth to save the bunny makes it seem that we should continue on with this effort.  So now we have the rabbit with no name living in a hutch under a lean to.. another mouth to feed until she (yes we sexed the bunny) can be let go to free range.

This is our life on the farm.. A balance between trying to trap or shoot the muskrat that is digging holes in the side of our pond and destroying a resource to saving lives of the animals that we can save.  Raising animals to "consume" and raising animals for joy companionship and work.  I look at the turkeys that follow me when I come outside and feel a twinge of guilt of knowing what I am intending their future to be.  They look at me.. they peep.. They have personalities.. and they also have a purpose for this farm.. for this family for this business.. So as long as they are here they will be treated with dignity and grace and given treats and grains.. so they can enjoy the sun on their feathers and the dirt and grass beneath their talon feet.  Little feathered dinosaurs running around the acreage.. I pacify my guilt with the ideal of these turkey's have a life that is filled with Sun.. frolic and good food. Most Turkey's in this world unless wild don't get that.  Yes my friends its a justification but its the one that lets me sleep at night if I and my family are going to be a meat eaters.

I am signed up for shooting lessons to be a better shot.  We have a coyote issue in our area.  We also have had a few coons, a couple opossums in the barn.  These are varmints for us as we have lost some livestock to our local traveling predators.  My job is to protect our farm, our livelihood.   This task as nasty  as it may sound is done with a gun.   I must learn to use the tool and it is a tool around here.  As needed as a hoe, shovel, plow or bridle.  I believe that with such a lethal tool, I need to be able to be accurate and use it diligently and wisely so I have lessons with a local marksman.   Again.. it is not something that I am not overly proud about.  Its just the new normal. 

My new normal is dawning Muck boots over red and white plaid pajama bottoms as I go out in the morning remembering to try to find the PJ's without the whole in the butt so the neighbors don't see the moon rising in the morning.  Muck boots with shorts at night.. (its quite the fashion statement).

It's realizing that from the barn to the house when you have hydrated properly is a really long way .. So getting over a bit of public nudity is OK vs wet pants...If men can mark their corner so can I..

 My new normal is trying to help my daughter get over her fear of the geese when she  with other animals is fearless. Realizing that Ittie now believes cowboy boots go with every outfit including sport shorts.   Enjoying a good lightning bug hunt, a dream and story of clouds.  A discussion of constellations and their myths.

Coffee on the stoop in the AM  and a beer or glass of wine on the porch in the PM  Smell of grilled garden veges and the laughter that comes with a certain "simplicity" of life.   It's not easy.. As my grandmother said.. we bought ourselves a whole lot of work.  But at the end of my day.. I feel good.  I look upon the world .. and our corner of it.. sigh at the the baby bunny in the hutch.  Look at our 1000 lb yard ornament munching on grass.  The sigh I have is not one of resignation but of relaxation.  I am enjoying this new normal.. as crazy as it may be.. as distracting and sometimes messy .. It's what at the end of the day refreshes and enlightens me.. It's my zen .. It's my niche.. It's my normal..

My Elephant in the Room. OK its just one of them

I have started a few posts.. that I may finish or leave dangling in the queue to temp me.. They all trudge down hard paths..  How to balance the negative with possible solutions. 

I don't like rants.. I don't like when I have a problem without possible solutions before me.  It taxes me.. toils inside my very being gnawing away.  Yes there are somethings that I must let go .. I understand that but usually I only do after I have tried to view the issue from every angle ..  and somethings just continue to hang with me.

I must admit I have and often don't feel comfortable in the "LGBT" community.  Honestly I don't get why I have to have a "community". I dwell in the middle between the lands not feeling as if either is home.  There is straight land and LGBT land.  Both communities with their issues.. but even this line shows the division.   I don't like the label. I don't like the divide.. I want the label HUMAN.. Part of this world since 1974.  And my atoms and molecules that bind this body together have been here for longer just now in a different composition.  So why is it that because I am with a woman as my partner.. I long to belong again.

Could it be this:

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.   A bit simplistic explanation but you get the model.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Maslow's_Hierarchy_of_Needs.svg

Since I have been "out." I don't believe I have changed other then maybe feeling like I don't have a deep dark skeleton looming over me.  That dark skeleton wasn't being GAY.. or Bi or whatever label you may think is necessary to understand my attraction.,  It was fear of loosing my  3rd level of the triangle.. The drop to not having acceptance and belonging.  This fear was based in a myth and the  lack of trust that my amazing friends and family members would turn away from me  instead of just look at me continue to say duh.. we love you.. doesn't really matter the sex of the person you are with, What does matter is the character of the person you are with.  (The latter response and acceptance is exactly the reception I received 90% of the time?)

What I feel is others may have changed their perception of me. I joke about being the gay person. or in my "gay" community about being the token bi-sexual.  Everyone needs their token person right. My jokes: I vowed not to have any more then one lesbian couple on the coed softball team because it left a staffing issue on vacations.  I jest about myself and the stereotypes not only to put other people at ease but also myself. Like: I played golf, softball, fished, like home improvement, hiking boots are apart of my daily ensemble with flannel and yes I really want to own a Jeep.   Laughter does help it makes the elephant in the room a bit smaller.  It opens up discussion. 

What I have a problem with is letting go of the elephant.. Maybe it is because of where I live.  Maybe it is because I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that  Harriet and I both need to write wills so we can protect each other and also make sure Sam and Avery are taken care of.   Marriage isn't a legal remedy for us so having to go to extra legal lengths and trying to insure ourselves enough so that after the inheritance tax that applies to us but not a married couple.  Harriet can still run the farm.

To combine their property as one family unit, something previously discussed as being a top goal of many committed domestic partner couples. While it simply does not sound “right” to a lot of people since they believe they should be able to give their property to anyone they choose without being taxed, I can assure you that this tax is very real. And, no, this tax does not affect married couples at all because they have something called the “unlimited marital deduction,” which allows unlimited gifts and unlimited inheritance without taxes for U.S. Citizen spouses.

http://rainbowlegaltalk.typepad.com/rainbow_legal_talk/2009/08/five-common-pitfalls-in-domestic-partner-estate-planning-part-ii.html

I am jealous of my  "straight" friends who can  insure their spouse. In fact if they wanted to they could get married to an opposite sex friend and then insure them without that being counted as income.  If I insure Harriet, it would cost out of pocket an extra 300 plus dollars a month in taxation for the coverage.  The same coverage that my heterosexual friends would pay nothing over the family premium for because its not taxable.

When employees elect health insurance coverage from their employers for their families, the majority of their employers contribute to at least half of the insurance coverage's cost. For employees with different-sex spouses, federal and state tax law do not require employers to report their contribution to the employee's or the employee's different-sex spouse as taxable wages earned — the value of the health insurance coverage can be excluded from the employee's gross income.
Non-dependent same-sex partners and spouses (and their dependents) are treated differently under federal and most states' tax laws:

• Imputed income: the estimated value of the employer's financial contribution towards health insurance coverage for non-dependent same-sex partners must be reported as taxable wages earned.
  • Employees: This tax penalty, depending on the individual and the estimated value of the health benefit, can be in the thousands of dollars per year and can result in the individual paying upwards of 50% more in federal taxes. As of 2007, employees with partner benefits pay on average $1,069 per year more in taxes than would an employee with the same coverage for a different-sex spouse. See the Williams Institute and Center for American Progress report: Unequal Taxes on Equal Benefits
  • Employers: Because the imputed income increases the employee's overall taxable income, it also increases the employer's payroll taxes — the federal Social Security (FICA) and unemployment insurance tax (FUTA) that employers pay based on employees' taxable incomes. According to the same CAP/Williams Institute report,employers collectively pay a total of $57 million per year in additional payroll taxes because of this unequal tax treatment. Employers also face additionaladministrative burdens of annually tracking the dependent status of covered same-sex partners and spouses and maintaining separate payroll functions for income tax withholding and payroll taxes.
• Pre-tax dollars may not be used to pay for the partner's coverage, limiting the use of Flexible Spending Accounts (FSAs), Health Reimbursement Accounts (HRAs) and Health Savings Accounts (HSAs).

See: Federal laws impacting domestic partner benefits.

http://www.hrc.org/resources/entry/taxation-of-domestic-partner-benefits

Health Care issues, impacts, rights waivers.. etc.. And yes while some of these issues have a work around.. It does not treat myself and Harriet who would love to be "married" the same as many of my friends who have the option to marry under the law.

Note I said law/ government not Church.. When taxation , inheritance, governing rights to the individual are involved this is a government and legal matter.  Not religious matter.

I joke about this because it hurts me.  Honestly did I give this much thought before.. Nope I didn't get all of it.  I believe that if two consenting adults wanted to get married.  OK.. I mean hey people do it all the time in Vegas right?? Think about it,  Man "Hi you sure are pretty." Woman. "Oh thank you.. that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me..."  A couple drinks and hours later.. maybe some dancing.. "want to get married.. We must be soul mates.. "  Going to the chapel..... and there Elvis presides.. to the newly married couple.    So why do they who have known each other for 6 hours of intense destiny get more rights then Harriet and I.  We dated for 6 months.  She stayed with me after a surgery.  It worked so well that she stayed longer.  She proposed to me at 8 months.  and We were looking for houses after that. 

I get why we have a community.. Our community is a refuge from all the intolerance all the ignorance, the justifications, the turning of a blind eye..The there are bigger issues in this country.  A place where people understand what work around do not equal equality.  Yet I am still torn.. I don't want the label.. I want to be me.. Gretchen.. I don't want the burden of helping others with their tolerance of me for the simple fact that I love an amazing person of character, strength kindness and fortitude.  I love an amazing authentic soul and anyone would be lucky to have Harriet in their life.  I don't want the label because my other friends don't have to have one..

But I am wrong: Married is a label.. they get a community its called marriage.  It has privileges and rights to the IN the  in group.  

She lays Quietly Sleeping.. A nervous day with Ittie

She lays here quietly sleeping.. So hot to the touch but I continue to rub her bare back.  She moans.. and aches.. I place the cold rice bag upon her neck.. making sure that it crosses the arteries.  I am exhausted.  

What time did this start.. 4:30.. OK not really last night she was a bit winy and then there was the complaint of the sore throat before bedtime. .." Go gargle Ittie .. " was my reply in the motherly voice that half took her seriously and half believed she was delaying bedtime.  When will I learn to add up the scenarios

4:30 .. the looming feeling of something over my head.. a poke to my arm.. another.. "mama" in a hushed whisper.  huh.. Ittie what time is it?  I flip the phone over .. see the time..  4:30 seems to glares out wincing my eyes at the harsh reality of time and brightness from the phone. Reality: it is way to early. the  long breathe in..

"OK Ittie lets go back to bed" some how is pushed out by air from my lungs at a hushed voice.   "mama..I don't feel good"  I reach up feel her head.. Its cool.. a bit clammy but I write this off as I had adjusted the thermostat and Ittie is a famous cover tosser.  She has perfected the sport.. Even to the point of tucking it in all around her and then finding her butt up in the air.  Face sideways on pillow.. Sheet beneath her pulled up and covers pushed down.. At the thought of this picture.. this is why she is cooler. "OK Ittie , you don't feel hot, throat still sore.. probably post nasal drip"  my inner voice finishes the rationalization you were playing outside today probably exposure to grass and such.  All logical right. "mama I feel like I am going to throw-up"   .. OK Ittie.. there is a bowl next to your bed figuring to myself if its post nasal drip nausea is possible. 


Then it happens.. I hear the cry the cough.. the sound that is regurgitation.. and then the foot steps "Mama.. I just threw up.. " but I am getting up.  She is a bit warmer of course this goes along with the up-chuck of the remainder of last nights meal.  It was an easy night Kraft mac and cheese and applesauce. I am thankful for this both for her sake and mine.  I dispose of the evidence.. Get out the thermometer.. Avery on queue opens mouth, lifts tongue.. insert device.. drops tongue and closes mouth. In a 10 count.. BEEP BEEP .. 99.9 with a yellow background.  "I am yellow, she declares"  Yep Ittie Yellow not bad but not great.. lets get some ibuprofen.  I sloth down the stairs now mostly awake and trying to get my legs to realize that returning back to bed is not really an option.. The young pups bark at the creek the golden announcement to them that someone approaches to let them out .. Shhhh comes out of my mouth.. "not yet"   They can't understand you is the thought that immediately goes through my mind.  They don't get that she is sick upstairs and you are muddling through finding the ibuprofen.. I get the sacred med.  and fumble through the everything utensil drawer looking for a medicine syringe.  Found one awesome.. OK now back up the stairs.. Cry.. Cough.. regurgitation.. "Mama."..... ugh this is going to be a long day

I don't remember Harriet leaving for work.  I remember my sick kid on the couch.  Cartoons on.. Me trying to get her to sip some flat sprite.  I called the school to inform them she wouldn't be in..  It's the principal he knows me by voice and name and immediately states "Avery ....s Mrs G.... not in today.  I hope she feels better is the reply on the phone."  "Me too is mine" as I look over to the limp noodle that has become my daughter on the couch.  "mama I hurt.. my stomach hurts."   Ok Ittie lets try a tums and see . munch munch.. she downs ones.. sips sprite.. 20 minutes go by she feels a bit better.. then the dash.. she doesn't quite make it.. "Sorry mama"   Its OK Ittie you tried did you get it on you?  So much for the sprite and tums.  She goes between warm and clammy.  moaning and somewhat watching TV.. Then to a crawl on my lap.. I hold her as if she were a babe again.. a 6 month old cuddled up.. I hold her close, stroke her head .. gently kiss it. Oh this child.. 

8:30.. thank god I can call... I get through on the second try.  HI there.. This is Gretchen Binney, my child.. has been not able to keep anything down since 4:30.  Can we come in today.  I hear the secretary say ohh partially in empathy I suppose and partially in looking for a time.  "I have a 4:20".. an answer that came with this is all I have and I know you wanted maybe needed something sooner. "We'll take it and if anything happens that worse, we have plan B.  Plan B deals with going to the ER at a temp of 103 and or severe cramping.  I am not getting her to hold anything down so the usual rotation of fever control isn't working today.  She takes something 10 to 20 minutes both Avery and I are revisited by that which was once consumed.  She bears the brunt of this.  All I can do is comfort and think.. what next..   The day goes on.  Ittie gets worse.  Fever goes to 101 and doesn't come back down.. "Mama I am in the red, states Ittie with some concern" yes baby its red but just at the beginning of Red not late red so we are going to do this cool rice pack, wash rag.. no covers, and bare minimum to reduce how much heat is staying in your body.

"mama I am weak"  and she shakes with the mug of water.  I look at the time is 12.. Really 4 more ..$%^&*# hours.. OK its OK I tell myself.  I put the cup down.  Want me to read a book. "yes and a little smile.  So I pull out a long story.  It was about a pony who wanted to be with kids.  Of course this is a good story its a kid friendly pony that wants kids to ride it.  Ittie adds a question or observation here and there but mostly leans in. I am happy it gives me the illusion that I am protecting her more.. but truly it's an illusion .. Some microscopic bug viral or bacterial most likely is rampaging through her body. It's an internal war that I can only give support. 

 "mama stay up here with me"  "ok Ittie.. and I start singing her lullaby. "  I must admit it is an easy toon, and I make up part of the lyrics each time but she likes it and finds it soothing.. (not sure how I have heard my singing soothing is not quite the word I would use for it.. more like the gull from Little Mermaid.. and awkward squawk.. ) No Matter she likes and is falling asleep as I rub her back and stroke her hair.. She is hot and in pain.  Her legs are cramping and she can't keep any liquid down.  I am anxious and feeling helpless at the fact that I am waiting .. waiting for this magical time of 4:30 .  Wanting magical powers to poof away the illness and pain.. The tingling of fear has just started.  The fear that your kid is sick.. the one that works its way in with worry and fret.  I push it back.  

Harriet arrives home.. ahh some relief or another soul just to compare all the steps today with.  All checks out.  Then Ittie's dad calls.  I had called several times today in-between things.  He had left his phone in the car the night before.  I have to say my last two messages were curt.. not mean but very direct.. Your child is sick, she is not at school, I need to know if you are going to take her to her Dr. appointment.  It is his time with her so .. and we talk he comes out.  picks Avery up.  As she loads into the car.  I give him the scenario the script of the day at least 3 times.  "Makes sure to mention her legs are cramping and that nothing no liquid is staying down" "OK" he looks at me wearily but understanding. 

I shut the door and they are off.  We text while at they are at the  Dr. Office. It's viral.  so nothing to help make it go away quicker.  If she continues to vomit then tomorrow the Doctor is having her hospitalized and of course if the fever shoots any higher and the cramping or symptoms get worse.. go to the ER tonight.    Great so this could go either way in the next 24 hours.. Awesomeness.. 

8:30 PM.. Text received  "she is keeping liquids down for an hour now"    YAY... OK its a small thing.. but I know this means some absorption has happened in the small intestine.  Phew I think.. I speak with her.  She sounds weak. "I love you Ittie.."  " I love you mama" 

Maybe this is a story of love, of me being a neurotic, worrisome mom.  Maybe both.  I look back over the last 24 hours and the feelings and actions and all the emotions thoughts and behaviors that this experience contained.  It was a microcosm of life.  It is part of parenting.   It is part of loving.  Ittie is the force that grounds me, drives me and keeps me real. She forces me to pull out strengths that I didn't even understand I have had and patience that I needed.  She tempers my fears with the need for rationality and calm.  Every day, each moment I share with this wonderful being I am blessed and driven to be the best authentic me so I can be the best person for her, for me for my family.