Poignant

January 25, 2010 – 3:11 pm

Kyle and I have spent the last three months watching Six Feet Under (HBO’s series that ran from 2001-2005). Okay, we may have been late to the party, but hey, at least we showed up.

We finished it last week and the final few episodes were almost too much to bear, especially given the circumstances we are dealing with right now. I found myself cursing our friend (sorry, Matt) for introducing us to the show. I had become so emotionally invested in this fictitious world that was so visceral and real to me, and it was crossing over and entangling itself with my actual life and experiences. It changed me, my outlook, my view of death. It moved me.

The portrayal of death and grief resonated with me. As did the portrayal of life.

I am already grieving someone who I haven’t even lost. I am already preparing for the heart-wrenching grip that death mercilessly exerts. I am already drowning in my tears.

I am struggling trying to make sense out of the senseless, searching for reason in the unreasonable, fighting to avoid the unavoidable. Even with my family and friends surrounding me, I feel so alone.

In the final commentary, the show’s creator, Alan Ball, says that “grief is a process that the only way out of it is through it.” How true. Grief allows us to emerge. Grief allows us to live on. Grief is our reminder that we are still here. That we are still alive.

The song in the final scene of the show sent me immediately to iTunes and was put on repeat as I sobbed making lunch the next day. It is the summation of grief for me. The painful, cold solitude that leaves you so desperate for comfort, for warmth and reminds you that this pain is life. The arms of a loved one may not be able to take the hurt away, but they give you reason to emerge from the grief and remind you what there is to live for.

So, without further ado, I give you “Breathe Me” by Sia. You may want to grab some tissues first. Seriously.

By erika | Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (3)

Truly Thankful.

November 25, 2009 – 11:06 am

I’m thankful for at least one more holiday…one more Thanksgiving…one more Christmas…one more season wrapped in the warmth of my family. I am thankful for time, however short it may be.

My grandma is dying of liver cancer.

Dying.

And until recently, I have resisted the reality of it with every part of my being. The thought of losing her chokes the air out of my lungs. I can feel it close around my heart and tighten its grip. It is painful…real. The anger I felt when we first found out would burn my tears before they could even roll down my cheeks, but now they flow freely. They stop me at moments during my day and I am overcome with grief so profound it makes me weak.

I could curse cancer. I could scream. I could ask why. But none of that changes anything. Nothing can stop the conclusion of life. Death waits for all of us.

I am hopeful that she will not suffer. I am hopeful that she will die with the dignity of knowing who she is and who we are and just how much she is loved before her Alzheimer’s has the opportunity to take that all away. I am hopeful that she will live on in every person she has touched. That life doesn’t end at death. That she will always be with me just like she promised.

The chemo has taken her hair, it has made her weak, and it has further deteriorated her already slipping memory, but for now it is keeping her alive. It’s our only hope. The liver cancer is aggressive. There is no cure. They are treating her to relieve her pain and to slow the growth and to keep her here a little longer.

I am grateful that I get to tell her just how much she means to me. That I get the chance to let her know how she shaped my life and how lucky I am to have been loved by her. I am thankful that my children will have known her and that someday they will realize that the path I set for them was paved early on by her.

Grandma,

Every part of who I am can be found somewhere within you.

You introduced me to Hans Christian Andersen, Beethoven and Poe. You opened the doors of museums to me. You gave me the stories and traditions of your Danish and German born parents. You taught me about manners, etiquette and the art of being a woman all while laying the foundation of feminism that has guided me through life. You told me that I could do and become anything I wanted. You taught me how to cook, and more importantly…how to entertain.  You revealed the secrets of marriage through the relationship you have with Grandpa. You exposed me to the wonders of spirituality and opened my eyes and mind to Wicca, Buddhism, Hinduism and the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece. You know that there is so much more to our universe than what we can see with our eyes.

You always made certain that I knew just how much I was loved.

Every moment I have been given with you has been a gift.

I love you.

Erika

By erika | Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (2)

The shoe still fits.

November 3, 2009 – 5:30 pm

I ran today.

It’s been almost three months, but I managed to not sleep through the alarm, fit my much-larger-than-three-months-ago ass into my running tights, and breathe heavily and laboriously through 30 straight minutes. I would mark this one in the huge accomplishment category, especially since I was thinking that my running shoes would be collecting dust forever.

Nothing like the light of a full moon and the company of a good friend to get you moving in the right direction. (The promise of shedding a few pounds is also a good motivator…not gonna lie.)

Looking forward to adding miles, breathing easier and going faster, but still proud that I woke up and actually did it. Why is just getting out there the hardest part?

By erika | Posted in Running | Comments (3)

Halloween Weekend…let the festivities begin!

October 30, 2009 – 9:44 am

It’s blog or die here. Honestly, if I can’t get into the habit of writing consistently, then this thing is going to disappear. I appreciate all of the support from friends and family to write, so here it is…

Anyone who knows us probably knows that Halloween is huge around here. It’s even bigger than Christmas. We’ve made a haunted gingerbread house, painted pumpkins, built a graveyard, decorated every inch of our home with spider-webs and other creepy crawlies, visited the pumpkin patch, braved the haunted hayride, baked, drawn, and counted down the days. Kade waits for this all year. It is his holiday, and he makes the most of every moment.

Liv loves it too, but the sickness that has plagued our house for over two weeks has deflated her Halloween balloon. She has had to miss out on our usual Halloween-week nightly events and she won’t be at her preschool party today, so she’s not feeling the love. I’m sensing that things should turn around when we head to Kade’s party this afternoon…fingers crossed.

Here we are at the quintessential harvest happening…Patterson’s Fruit Farm. Place just oozes Fall. Love it.

I was so excited to see what my M.F.A bound son would paint…ended up with four dots and a heart. Kid is an enigma.

Guess who took the next two photos? I never claimed to be a photographer, but what the hell is coating my lens.

Not sure if I would eat these. The kids pretty much did it all by themselves from start to finish, which included lots of finger licking, sneezing and coughing. Yum.

Liv was the most adorable Dorothy (her current favorite movie) at our first candy-crawl on Sunday, but her ruby slippers gave her some nasty blisters and she refuses to put the costume back on. The “price of fashion” lesson learned at age 3. Sigh.

Kade’s vampire costume made a reappearance (kid has about 6 or 7 costumes to choose from). The classics are always in style. Today he’ll be donning the skeleton. Tomorrow…who knows.

Halloween Weekend has officially started… Tonight, we attack the pumpkins. Tomorrow, we head to class at the art museum, a Halloween birthday party and trick or treat at night. Happy Haunting!

By erika | Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)

Life.

October 7, 2009 – 1:02 pm

I can’t believe that I’m blogging. It’s been awhile, but Liv came home sick from school and is sporting a fever so my original plan of heading to the store to get supplies for homemade chili has turned into an afternoon home at the computer.

Things have become overwhelming around here. There’s drama and I really hate drama. There’s life-changing, heart-wrenching family illness and I am not coming to terms with it very well. There’s no time to just be and it’s hard…

I spent yesterday afternoon talking to some first year medical students about living with diabetes, and it inspired me to add even more craziness to the mix. I’m thinking of going back to school with the long-term goal of becoming a diabetes educator. In fact, I’m not just thinking about it…I’m going to do it. Now to only figure out how.

I was also inspired to blog again because I kept telling them how much blogs have helped me in learning about diabetes, managing it, coping with it…yet, I have let my blog go by the wayside. Things have just been so emotional around here lately that I’ve written probably 10 drafts in the last two months and never hit publish. I have so much to say and no idea how to say it.

And running…I am so ashamed of what’s happened with running. I haven’t raced in a year…a freaking year! I haven’t even run in two months. The cold is approaching, so I don’t anticipate that my motivation level will be increasing any time soon, but I trust that the desire will come back at some point (as my pants get tighter, the push becomes greater).

Life just seems to constantly get in the way…

By erika | Posted in Mother of Two, Running, Type One Diabetes | Comments (2)

Can we still call her “Baby Girl”?

August 29, 2009 – 10:50 pm

Liv Ellen is 3 years old.

Her birthday last Saturday came during a time of difficulty for our family, which is further proof that she is in our lives for a reason. In the midst of even the worst of times, Liv brings us pure, simple happiness and love (I’m not in the running for Mayor McCheese…just telling you the absolute truth here). My pregnancy and her birth came during one of the most trying, stressful, emotional and frightening periods of our lives. She was a beacon of hope and gave us all a purpose and renewed strength in the future. I find that I turn to her for comfort on a daily basis. I can quietly cry into her hair as she snuggles into my lap and softly pats my back with her tiny hands. She may not understand the heavy weight of my heart in these moments, but her old soul can deftly lift it away. She has a gift and it affects every person lucky enough to know her.

Her pensive manner, her gentle nature, her infectious laughter, her insightful words…all make it hard to grasp that she is only three. She possesses a soul much older than my own. In the ups and downs of daily life, she manages to stay even-keeled. The girl has her moments, trust me, but the balance she provides our household is undeniable.

She is starting preschool in another week and will widen her already extensive circle of friends. She rocks out to Peter Bjorn and Passion Pit. She insists on picking out her own clothing. She spontaneously starts dancing, any time, any place, no music necessary.  She is her own little person and has self-assurance that I will admit being jealous of.

Liv,

Thank you for smiling every day. You have taught me what it means to live in the moment, which is something that I rarely do. You have a secret language with your brother communicated through various levels of giggling. You are compassionate, sensitive and a gift that I can’t believe I’ve been given. When I held you close and told you that I can’t believe you are turning three, you looked up at me and said “Why, Mom? Are you afraid of me being two?” No, Liv…I am not afraid of you being two, or three, or even seventeen (okay…I am a little bit afraid of that). I just hate how time has a way of speeding through all the good stuff.

I love you,

Mama

By erika | Posted in Mother of Two | Comments (1)

Where’s a DeLorean when you need one?

August 28, 2009 – 5:33 pm

Life smacked me in the face…literally.

I lost the month of August. It disappeared. I’d do anything to have it back, but I don’t want to re-live it so it can stay lost and I’ll happily move on. Bye-bye, August…hello, September.

I need to post about my baby girl’s 3rd birthday, but first I must relay today’s events, which are equal in child-milestone-magnitude.

Kade started Kindergarten today. Kinder-freaking-garten.

Where did the last 5 years go? It’s not like I didn’t know this day was coming, and he is more than ready for it, but the reality that my child is in school hit me with such tremendous force that I could barely hang on. I have spent five years getting him ready for this day, this step into the real world. Every moment of his life has been my responsibility. Did I read enough books, take him on enough adventures, expose him to enough culture, sing enough songs, show enough compassion, spend enough time…? Did I do my job?

This morning, I dropped him off with a wall of tears blinding my vision (thankfully, Kyle was driving) and a pit in my stomach. I can’t believe that I sent him on his own into a building full of 300 little people with no idea what the day would bring, and no control over what would happen. Even more surprising is that seven hours later a confident, smiling full-blown Kindergartener got in my car and gave me the best performance review of my life…

“I loved it, Mom. It was a great day.”

I think I deserve a raise.


By erika | Posted in Mother of Two | Comments (1)

Tellum Envy

August 4, 2009 – 8:36 pm

Have I really been sporting a “reverse mullet” for over a year? Have I walked the streets of Cleveland with people looking at me thinking, “that girl has a Kate Gosselin hair-do”? Do I want to run to the salon screaming “help”? Apparently, it’s a big, fat YES to all three.

And I had no idea. None.

Complete. Blissful. Ignorance.

Until now…

Party in the front.

Business in the back. Thankfully, my stylist actually knows how to cut.

No flippin way. I can’t believe it. I refuse to accept it. I didn’t even know about Kate or her hairstyle until national news decided that this woman’s private business was more important than President Obama’s healthcare plan.

I’m so not Kate Gosselin.

I’m Rihanna.

Ahh…now I feel better.

By erika | Posted in Mother of Two, Rock Star | Comments (4)

I don’t give this kid enough credit.

August 3, 2009 – 4:21 pm

(I feel like I’ve done too much complaining on here and need to refocus…here it goes.)

Yes, he is difficult…and a loose cannon…and impatient….and a perfectionist, but so am I. I just have a very hard time admitting it.

He is also observant, thoughtful, sensitive and desperate to please. He is keenly aware. Always checking to see if you are watching, paying attention, listening…taking photos.

He is introverted and shy unless he can hide behind the guise of a mask or costume. In character, he feels protected, safe and able to socialize. Upon recognizing one of his heroes at the Taste of Tremont a few weeks ago, he exclaimed…”Mama, there’s the Iron Chef.” If Bumblebee hadn’t been there, we never would have been able to snap a photo to capture the moment.

He has a long line of men in his life who have given him pieces of who he is and provide glimpses and hints at who he may become. His grandfathers and great-grandfathers look at him and see their future, their legacy staring back at them. He has his Papa’s gentle nature, his Grandpa’s sensitive soul, his Great-Grandfather’s thirst for knowledge. I can see each of them in him and it fills me with pride.

But it’s this guy who is at his core, who leaves the largest mark. Kade is his father’s son. They can be so different and yet so eerily similar that I’ve often had to hide my astonishment at the overwhelming power of genetics.

Kade, if I know anything for certain, it’s that your Dad will always be behind you in everything you do. (Even if it means taking you to the tattoo studio in order to get the “skull and crossbones with fire coming out on your back” that you so desperately want).

I’ve learned to slacken the rope a bit. It started when you went to your first year of preschool and I had to let go a little, but these past two years have found the rope getting longer. In a few short weeks, I will have to let it go altogether as you start Kindergarten. Have no fear, though. I am still here. Watching, anxious, determined, so full of love…and guess what, Liv isn’t far behind.

I may be hard on you. I may complain that you make me crazy. I may even want to run out of the house screaming at multiple points during the day. But despite all of that, I am so amazed at the wonder of who you are, how you think, what you are able to accomplish. You create costumes out of paper, glue and staples. You have memorized some of the best Shel Silverstein poems ever. You know exactly what you want when I find myself floundering through life with no definite answers. You are so beyond your 5 years in so many ways and yet so young in so many others. You have made me cry and laugh and scream (sometimes all at the same time). I am sorry that I don’t always embrace you for you. That I don’t always see the positive, the wonder inside of you. I love you, Kade.

By erika | Posted in Mother of Two | Comments (2)

On a lighter note…

July 31, 2009 – 4:48 pm

I can’t leave with a bad taste in my mouth so here’s another installment of “Overheard in a South Euclid Living Room.”

Liv: Playing with her Strawberry Shortcake and Polly Pockets dolls in a sing-song voice. “My daddy loves to sleep with my mommy. He really, really does.”

I look over to see that she had laid two figures next to each other in “bed.” She tucks them in with a tissue, then picks them both up and sings…

“My daddy has some crazy hair, some crazy hair. He really, really does.”

Apparently the girl knows what Kyle likes. He would give anything to have some crazy hair. Anything.

By erika | Posted in Mother of Two | Comments (0)