Saturday, February 11, 2012

SMMS2M: Dreams, Phonecalls and Whitney Houston

Yes, I am cheating on my resolution by backdating this, even though I did not post on Saturday and Sunday. It turns out I'm not perfect. Surprised? Yeah, I didn't think so.

So first let me say that I'm starting to hate the "and for this weekend prompt" at the end of every Friday's fill-in because so far if I put something on that list, it 1-800-doesn't-happen.

Secondly, I had planned on writing a post about both the ways that I parent exactly like my mother did and the ways in which I've made a point to do the exact opposite. For example: I read to my kids, every day. Always have, starting when they were in utero. Winter is 13, and I'm always on the look-out for something to read with her. At the end of last year we read The Last Dragon and Chime. If you haven't read Chime yet, stop reading this post and go buy it! Srsly, it's that good. Just follow the link...I'll wait here. Are you back? Okay--so that's one of the things that I loved when my mom did it for me (us) and something that I've made a part of my kids' lives.

On the other hand, when we misbehaved in the car growing up, my mom would reach back (without looking) and just start flailing around, whacking whatever and whoever she could reach. I remember thinking, "She's outta control!" So when I had my own kids, after I could be coaxed out of the backseat where I could watch them breathe, I made it a point to reach back and hold their little hands. Or a foot. Or pat a knee. Not crazy. My kids expect me to reach back and take turns holding their hands now. They'll probably grow up thinking, "She's so needy." Sigh.

Instead of writing a whole post about that kind of stuff, I stayed up late Friday night reading Precious Bane, loving the language and having my heart broken by the drowning deaths of Jancis, her babe, and Gideon.

I woke up late on Saturday and realized that I desperately needed to go grocery shopping. My sister called, so I invited her and Luke to meet me and the kids at Perkins for brunch. Then I lured them to my place with the promise of the use of my washer and dryer and we spent the day together.

While they were here, my Auntie Cheryl called and told me that she'd had a dream about my mom. "She looked beautiful," she said, "she looked to be in her thirties with that long, black hair. She was wearing a flowered shirt ('That sounds like Mom,' I said) and I said to her, 'You look happy' and she said that she was happy. I just wanted to tell you that." And I thanked her and told her how sad I am that when I dream about mom, we always fight. Not knock-down-drag-out fighting. Just everyday bickering, because in the dream I never realize that she's gone. And then I wake up and cry because I didn't tell her how much I love her and miss her and ask her to hold me one more time. And now I'm crying again, dammit.

Then Lisa told me that Whitney Houston died and I was heartbroken. Not only at the loss of her voice, but also at the thought of her poor, poor daughter, who has lost her mom at such a young age.

Lisa and Luke watched a few episodes of M*A*S*H with me and then headed home. Sissy had gone to her friend's house for a sleepover and so, having allowed the boys to crash in my bed, crawled in with them (kind of: wedged in and clung to the edge of the mattress is more like it! Amazing how two little boys and a miniature dachshund can monopolize a queen-sized bed. A thousand stuffies prob'ly didn't help.)

On Sunday morning I woke early and made pancakes for the boys and then talked with my dad on the phone for a long time. We ended up talking about Mom, and I ended up bawling over my grief and guilt over the last time that I saw her alive. I don't think that I will ever get over it. I don't cry about it often, now, so when it happens it takes me unawares. After my talk with Auntie Cheryl and the death of Whitney and that phone call with dad, I've been crying on and off since Saturday. I still feel like crap.

That's what I was doing when I wasn't blogging, and what I would've blogged about if I had. I have to go write and postdate Sunday's post and then upload a kajillion photos for today's Monday's Muse post. I'll try to do better next week.