My feelings regarding the winter season have always been a conundrum to me. I'm not much for the cold weather; I personally have no use for it but for one occasion: snow. Those that have known me well over the years know that one of my favorite sayings is, "If it's not going to snow, then there is no reason for cold weather." If I am going to be cold, I want to see beauty in the mix.
Yes, snow is the purpose of winter. There is nothing quite like making snow angels in the dead of winter. Bundling up to go outside, packing tight snowballs, building snowmen, and making snow cream is where I find the cold's purpose. I have no purpose for the cold, except for ice on the occasional burn, such as the one on my right arm from making pancakes the other night. Even when I am injured, I abhore the ice on the site and look forward to the moment I can put heat on my boo boo.
Heat. Now that is one thing I like about winter. Say what? What does heat have to do with winter, you ask? Everything. It is my second favorite thing about it. There is nothing I like better on a cold winter's night than sitting beside a nice, toasty fireplace. It gives off warmth, nostalgia, and a sense of safety.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Laundry Day
Sigh. I have 6 loads of laundry to do and I can no longer escape the inevitable. The mountain is here and there is nothing I can do but to remove it, one load at a time. Did I let it build up over time? Not really. It is merely the culmination of taking a break from laundry since we got back into town on Sunday. It's really not as bad as it sounds, though if I just look in the washroom I have to fight the compulsion to run and hide. Fortunately, I am learning, slowly but surely, how to overcome that kick in the gut and just get in there and do what I need to do.
Generally speaking, I have around 2 loads a day. When the kids wet the beds, it adds another load or two, depending on how many wet their beds. And, thankfully, these days I am not doing it on my own. Nyssa has been a doll about putting things in the washer for me in the morning and running a couple loads for me in the afternoon. I am glad to say that she is learning very well how to do it, with a little supervision lest she get too generous with the detergent.
The rest of the family are also starting to help. Benjamin takes the dirty clothes from upstairs and puts them all in the laundry baskets in the morning, at least all that he sees. Occasionally I have to follow and show him some things that he missed. Richard carries the loads downstairs and Nathaniel carries them to the laundry room. Benjamin then sorts the clothes. Once Nyssa moves the clothes from the dryer back into the baskets, Nathaniel carries them back into the house. Anita often helps me fold and put them on hangars, and either she or Richard carries the clean clothes back upstairs. Then, we all put the clothes away....sometimes.
The laundry really is becoming a family affair. Sometimes they don't kick in, but it is becoming a habit. The good news is that for some reason, the laundry is something the kids all enjoy doing. Even Gabriela enjoys putting her dirty clothes in the basket. Now that I'm not doing it all, sometimes clothes end up in the wrong drawer and I fight the OCD that says they must be folded just this way and go on that side of the drawer. I tell myself I am content when they just get into the right child's drawer these days. I still get frustrated when the clothes in my room don't get put away for a few days, but I am also learning to say, "Richard, I need your help please now to put these clothes away." Lo and behold, usually when I actually ask, he helps! What a concept!
It's like everything else in my life. A situation arises and it needs to be taken care of pronto before more gets added to the pile. No it's not always fun, and it can be a hassle carrying those loads up and down the path of life, but it does help when others help me carry the load. After all, part of the reason I'm in this boat is because I forgot that I needed to ask for their help in the first place. Plus, when we all work together, we have so much fun laughing and joking around that the chores of life sometimes become a game.
Generally speaking, I have around 2 loads a day. When the kids wet the beds, it adds another load or two, depending on how many wet their beds. And, thankfully, these days I am not doing it on my own. Nyssa has been a doll about putting things in the washer for me in the morning and running a couple loads for me in the afternoon. I am glad to say that she is learning very well how to do it, with a little supervision lest she get too generous with the detergent.
The rest of the family are also starting to help. Benjamin takes the dirty clothes from upstairs and puts them all in the laundry baskets in the morning, at least all that he sees. Occasionally I have to follow and show him some things that he missed. Richard carries the loads downstairs and Nathaniel carries them to the laundry room. Benjamin then sorts the clothes. Once Nyssa moves the clothes from the dryer back into the baskets, Nathaniel carries them back into the house. Anita often helps me fold and put them on hangars, and either she or Richard carries the clean clothes back upstairs. Then, we all put the clothes away....sometimes.
The laundry really is becoming a family affair. Sometimes they don't kick in, but it is becoming a habit. The good news is that for some reason, the laundry is something the kids all enjoy doing. Even Gabriela enjoys putting her dirty clothes in the basket. Now that I'm not doing it all, sometimes clothes end up in the wrong drawer and I fight the OCD that says they must be folded just this way and go on that side of the drawer. I tell myself I am content when they just get into the right child's drawer these days. I still get frustrated when the clothes in my room don't get put away for a few days, but I am also learning to say, "Richard, I need your help please now to put these clothes away." Lo and behold, usually when I actually ask, he helps! What a concept!
It's like everything else in my life. A situation arises and it needs to be taken care of pronto before more gets added to the pile. No it's not always fun, and it can be a hassle carrying those loads up and down the path of life, but it does help when others help me carry the load. After all, part of the reason I'm in this boat is because I forgot that I needed to ask for their help in the first place. Plus, when we all work together, we have so much fun laughing and joking around that the chores of life sometimes become a game.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Depth of a Child
So often lately, I have focused a majority of my writing on Nyssa and Nathaniel. Today, however, my heart ponders on the wonderment of the understanding of my youngest. Not quite 2 1/2, Gabriela never ceases to amaze me with her words, her thoughts and expressions, but I think I am still in shock over her countenance and her words last Friday.
It was the day we saw my father for the last time. Family was gathered at the funeral home. Young ones met each other for the first time, while my generation of cousins hugged and caught up on old times, reminiscing together. Gabriela, bringing Richard and I in tow, walked up to the open coffin.
"Is Pops in there?" she queried.
"Yes, he is," I said.
"I want to see him," she told Richard as she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. Gabriela looked at the body of the man who she had hugged but who had never spoken a word to her.
"That's Pop," she stated simply, rather than questioned. We both nodded in assent.
"Is he sleeping?" she wondered.
"This is just his body," Richard said gently to our daughter. "Pops is in Heaven."
She cocked her head in the most peculiar way. I can't explain it, but she squinted her eyes. They glazed over as she looked off, contemplating his comment, and pieced it together with the sight of her grandfather in the dark red walnut casket. I sat there and physically watched Gabriela age right before my eyes. When she spoke, it was simple, with puzzlement, yet understanding and clarity.
"He's dead." It was as if even she was amazed at her own ability to grasp the concept. My eyes watered.
"Yes."
"He's gone. He's not there." Again, I wondered at her comprehension. She sighed and just stared for a moment and then asked to be let down. That was it.
The funeral service was nice, more like a celebration of Dad's life. I think he would've liked it. We all laughed at the hilarious moments and welled up at the sentimental ones; Gabriela was asleep before my brother even delivered the eulogy, but she had already said her goodbyes that day in the nursing home.
There are moments in our lives which are pointed, signs of growth and maturity. For my Gabriela, this was one of those. A single moment in time passed right before my eyes. My baby girl was no longer a baby, or a toddler even. She was past the days of just going with the flow, reaching whatever conclusion someone else gave her. This was her moment, and she grasped it.
It was the day we saw my father for the last time. Family was gathered at the funeral home. Young ones met each other for the first time, while my generation of cousins hugged and caught up on old times, reminiscing together. Gabriela, bringing Richard and I in tow, walked up to the open coffin.
"Is Pops in there?" she queried.
"Yes, he is," I said.
"I want to see him," she told Richard as she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. Gabriela looked at the body of the man who she had hugged but who had never spoken a word to her.
"That's Pop," she stated simply, rather than questioned. We both nodded in assent.
"Is he sleeping?" she wondered.
"This is just his body," Richard said gently to our daughter. "Pops is in Heaven."
She cocked her head in the most peculiar way. I can't explain it, but she squinted her eyes. They glazed over as she looked off, contemplating his comment, and pieced it together with the sight of her grandfather in the dark red walnut casket. I sat there and physically watched Gabriela age right before my eyes. When she spoke, it was simple, with puzzlement, yet understanding and clarity.
"He's dead." It was as if even she was amazed at her own ability to grasp the concept. My eyes watered.
"Yes."
"He's gone. He's not there." Again, I wondered at her comprehension. She sighed and just stared for a moment and then asked to be let down. That was it.
The funeral service was nice, more like a celebration of Dad's life. I think he would've liked it. We all laughed at the hilarious moments and welled up at the sentimental ones; Gabriela was asleep before my brother even delivered the eulogy, but she had already said her goodbyes that day in the nursing home.
There are moments in our lives which are pointed, signs of growth and maturity. For my Gabriela, this was one of those. A single moment in time passed right before my eyes. My baby girl was no longer a baby, or a toddler even. She was past the days of just going with the flow, reaching whatever conclusion someone else gave her. This was her moment, and she grasped it.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
My Children's Viewpoint
Man. Woman. Birth. Death. Infinity. We enter this life empty and we leave this life with whatever truths we have gained. We choose how we are going to see life, in peace or in strife. We learn from that which surrounds us. Sometimes we learn from the elder, sometimes from our peers, and sometimes we experience the joy of learning through the mouths and actions of babes.
This last Thursday morning, my family packed up for a trip to Texas to visit my family. I had gotten used to the phone calls coming at least once a year for the past 9 years, telling me that the doctors wanted my mom to prepare the family for my father's eminent departure from this world. Each and every time my dad has come back fighting. He's been a scrapper since day one.
Last Sunday, though, when my mom called, I could sense a difference. Though everything looked bad, my dad was fighting back and seemed to be recovering. Still, I couldn't help the nagging feeling in the forefront of my mind telling me that my dad's long battle was almost over.
For the next couple of days, my husband and I discussed whether, with my back, I needed to fly or take the train. Both of those options would take too long, we felt, given the availability, so we decided to pack up the clan and drive to Pearland. I am glad we decided to come then rather than wait for the train that would have arrived in Houston this evening.
When I first saw my dad, he slightly opened one eye in acknowledgement that I was here, but that was the most he could muster. My uncle and two aunts, my dad's siblings, stayed with my mother, brother, and myself in the room at the nursing home where Dad was in hospice care. Having already talked it over with Richard, we agreed that we would give Dad a chance to see our children one more time, thereby giving them a chance to say whatever they wanted to say to him as well. I am so glad we did.
Nyssa walked in first, boldly beside my dad's bedside. "Hi Pops! It's me, Nyssa!" She was bubbly to see him, but when he didn't respond, she turned shy and was a little shaken. She then whispered in my ear things to tell him. Just before she left the room, she touched his arm tenderly with her hand and said, "I'll see you in Heaven. I love you." When she left the room with my Mom, one of the nurses followed behind with tears in her eyes.
A few minutes later, after discovering he was crying insistently that he MUST see Pops, Mom brought Nathaniel in as well. He walked up to my dad and smiled his big, bright smile that outshines Reba McEntire's smile. Nathaniel stood next to Dad's bed and waved excitedly at him. "Hi Pops! I'll see you in Heaven. Bye Pops! I love you!" He put his hands to his ears because the rattle in my dad's breath was too much for him and he walked happily out of the room with me back outside to see the ducks in the pond.
Richard went in next, with Benjamin and Gabriela. Though I didn't witness what happened, I was told that Benjamin stayed back but waved at him and said, "Bye Pops, see ya in Heaven," and that Dad wiggled his toes in response. Gabriela sat in his lap a on the edge of the bed and started calling to him. "Pops. Pops. Pops!" At first she started to get mad that he wouldn't answer her, then tilted her head, looked worried, and just sat with him for a minute and said, "Bye bye, Pops." Apparently, a nurse walked out then as well, with tears in her eyes.
Yesterday morning, Dad passed away in his sleep with myself, my brother, and my mom in the room. We told the kids, who all thought for a moment and said that he is in Heaven now and can walk and talk and sing again. They extemporised on all the things he can do now that he couldn't just a couple days ago.
Though we will all miss my Dad, just leave it to my children to put everything into perspective. We know where his heart is. Though he wasn't perfect, as none of us are, he did receive Jesus as his Savior and so we know he is in Heaven and we will see him again one day. He is happy and free. He is where he belongs.
This last Thursday morning, my family packed up for a trip to Texas to visit my family. I had gotten used to the phone calls coming at least once a year for the past 9 years, telling me that the doctors wanted my mom to prepare the family for my father's eminent departure from this world. Each and every time my dad has come back fighting. He's been a scrapper since day one.
Last Sunday, though, when my mom called, I could sense a difference. Though everything looked bad, my dad was fighting back and seemed to be recovering. Still, I couldn't help the nagging feeling in the forefront of my mind telling me that my dad's long battle was almost over.
For the next couple of days, my husband and I discussed whether, with my back, I needed to fly or take the train. Both of those options would take too long, we felt, given the availability, so we decided to pack up the clan and drive to Pearland. I am glad we decided to come then rather than wait for the train that would have arrived in Houston this evening.
When I first saw my dad, he slightly opened one eye in acknowledgement that I was here, but that was the most he could muster. My uncle and two aunts, my dad's siblings, stayed with my mother, brother, and myself in the room at the nursing home where Dad was in hospice care. Having already talked it over with Richard, we agreed that we would give Dad a chance to see our children one more time, thereby giving them a chance to say whatever they wanted to say to him as well. I am so glad we did.
Nyssa walked in first, boldly beside my dad's bedside. "Hi Pops! It's me, Nyssa!" She was bubbly to see him, but when he didn't respond, she turned shy and was a little shaken. She then whispered in my ear things to tell him. Just before she left the room, she touched his arm tenderly with her hand and said, "I'll see you in Heaven. I love you." When she left the room with my Mom, one of the nurses followed behind with tears in her eyes.
A few minutes later, after discovering he was crying insistently that he MUST see Pops, Mom brought Nathaniel in as well. He walked up to my dad and smiled his big, bright smile that outshines Reba McEntire's smile. Nathaniel stood next to Dad's bed and waved excitedly at him. "Hi Pops! I'll see you in Heaven. Bye Pops! I love you!" He put his hands to his ears because the rattle in my dad's breath was too much for him and he walked happily out of the room with me back outside to see the ducks in the pond.
Richard went in next, with Benjamin and Gabriela. Though I didn't witness what happened, I was told that Benjamin stayed back but waved at him and said, "Bye Pops, see ya in Heaven," and that Dad wiggled his toes in response. Gabriela sat in his lap a on the edge of the bed and started calling to him. "Pops. Pops. Pops!" At first she started to get mad that he wouldn't answer her, then tilted her head, looked worried, and just sat with him for a minute and said, "Bye bye, Pops." Apparently, a nurse walked out then as well, with tears in her eyes.
Yesterday morning, Dad passed away in his sleep with myself, my brother, and my mom in the room. We told the kids, who all thought for a moment and said that he is in Heaven now and can walk and talk and sing again. They extemporised on all the things he can do now that he couldn't just a couple days ago.
Though we will all miss my Dad, just leave it to my children to put everything into perspective. We know where his heart is. Though he wasn't perfect, as none of us are, he did receive Jesus as his Savior and so we know he is in Heaven and we will see him again one day. He is happy and free. He is where he belongs.
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