Meaning and signifigance

It's an odd thing when a day only really means something to one person.  Many of our milestones and special days are shared if not by the larger culture or society that we live in at least by our family.  Holidays and birthdays are shared events.  They mean something, not always the same thing, to a number of different people.  There is a sense of commonality in that, it's comforting, at least to me.

Today is different.  Today is a day that really only means something significant to me with very few exceptions.  Today is the 5th anniversary of my Mother's death.  Today is a day that is shared with my sister.  This is the day we became Motherless Mothers.  Today is a day I share with my Dad, this is the day he became a widower.  It's such an odd sensation, to have a day mean so much to you but to see the world going on around you as if nothing is different but inside your heart and mind, so much changed on this day 5 years ago. 

So today I remember my Mother, Sharon.  I remember the good; she was an amazing baker and she alone inspired my love of books by reading Little Golden Books to me until I was finally satisfied that the Poky Little Puppy did make it home.  I remember the bad; she was a complicated, often sad, soul that had a lot of growing up to do but never had the chance to do it.  And I remember the ugly; she had a wicked temper. 

I mourn the loss of what was but also, perhaps more profoundly, I mourn the loss of what should have been.  My Mother struggled while raising us, I can look back at my childhood now with the eyes of an adult woman and a Mother myself and find sympathy for her, I can see her, with the passage of time, as the flawed but lovable woman that she was.  But where she really shined was later on in life when she was finally blessed with Grandchildren.  She loved being a Grandma and she spoiled those girls rotten.  I was pregnant with Paulo when her dementia really took hold and we started seeing the early signs.  And it was immediately following his birth that her behavior took a dramatic change.  My Mother, who had to be put on a visitation schedule with my nieces, held my son twice.  Once the day he was born and one other time when she came for a visit and I gave him to her so I could eat.  That second, and last, time lasted about 30 seconds before she declared him too heavy and handed him back to me.  I remember being so confused.  Her visits to my sister had to be scheduled but with me she was ready to leave after five minutes and didn't want to hold my son.  I didn't know at the time that her dementia had robbed her of her ability to feel and express empathy and love.  I would not find that out until my son was 9 months old.  She never held him again, just those two times, and for that I will always feel that my sweet boy missed out.

I suppose with every passing year it gets easier, the pain less sharp, but it's still hard and every year come June I am struck with how much I miss having a Mother of my own.  My Mother was my cheerleader, whatever I decided to do she would support, and boy could I use some of that Momma love these days. 

RIP Mom, I hope you finally found the peace that eluded you during your time on Earth.

My my where does the time go?

December 8th...really?  How did that happen!  So much has happened since I last posted. 

My sweet boy won the grand prize for his efforts with our school's first ever Run for the Arts.  He was given his award in our school's first ever assembly.  Thankfully I was tipped off by the Mom that organized the whole deal to come to the assembly and even more thankfully I work two minutes away so I was able to come and watch him accept his award with typical Paulo enthusiasm.  We are seeing The Christmas Story at Portland Center Stage later this month as part of his award package.  And we will have tickets to a Portland Youth Philharmonic concert coming up in March.  The prizes were outstanding, but even better was watching his complete and utter joy.  That boy knows how to accept an award! 

It's blurry but you get the idea!  He was so happy and I was so grateful to witness it.

We celebrated Thanksgiving last month with dinner for 16-this is a decrease from last year by about a full table!  It was still lovely, even with a few less faces.  I have my toe dipped into being a vegetarian though so there was some personal conflict leading up to the big day.  Ultimately though I ended up eating some of my bird.  I have not eaten much meat at all since the end of September.  October was Vegetarian Awareness month and I answered the challenge to forgo meat for the whole month.  It was easier than I thought it would be and I found my body runs better without the meat clogging the pipes.  Plus since Paulo is not eating dairy there have been more days than not that I have actually been vegan.  I am still not 100% committed to being a vegetarian and honestly some of my hold ups have to do with my family.  I married a serious carnivore and he comes from good, hearty, meat eating stock.  Food is such a big part of our lives too, all of our celebrations revolve around food and frankly most of them center on meat.  I'm not sure where I am though in it, I'm still a work in progress.

We entered December and were hit with Paulo's first major illness.  He had developed a cold in mid November which settled into a lingering cough.  On the 1st of December he woke me up around 4:30 and as soon as I reached out and touched his hands I knew he had a fever.  He missed three days of school and ultimately ended up with a trip to the pedi and a round of antibiotics.  She suspected a sinus infection.  I really didn't want to give him the drugs but ended up starting them last Saturday after the 4th day of fever.  By Sunday he was fever free so I suppose it was for the best.  Through it all though I did take comfort in the fact that his ears were CLEAR!!!  Ear infections plagued us last year, it was terrible.  Holding your sobbing child while he waits for the pain meds to kick in...it's no fun.  I was so happy he was not in pain last week.  It does give me some encouragement to keep up on his wheat/dairy/egg free diet.  He's able to tolerate eggs to a certain degree but definitely no wheat and dairy right now.  The other thing that comforted me was how well he'd been sleeping prior to the fever.  In the past every cold meant days of disrupted sleep.  But he's been a much better sleeper this Fall despite a little case of the sniffles here or there. 

Paulo got to experience his first ever professional Blazer game with his Dad.  Ooooh boy, was that a huge hit!  He was able to yell and cheer and scream and no one told him to Shh!

We're gearing up for Christmas now and all the events that go with it.  We went tree hunting last Saturday, despite Paulo not feeling 100%.  He was a trooper though, it helped that we were in and out of the farm inside of 20 minutes.  It was by far the fastest tree hunt ever for the Rodriguez Family. 

We have our company holiday party coming up soon and then a week later, wham! It's Christmas Day!  I am amazed at how fast this year has flown by.  It is almost 2011!  One of my boys will be 7 in April and then the oldest turns 16 next August....16?!   I don't know quite what to think of that. 

I know I need to remember to slow down and enjoy these moments as they come.  Seeing the years fly by reminds me of that.  But to be honest I have a hard time putting it into practice.  I know I should slow down....I know I should enjoy the moment....but how when there's a pile of dishes to be washed and lunches to be made?  I think perhaps that will be my New Year's Resolution, to sloooooow down.  Wow, time to start thinking about goals for a whole new year.  I do make resolutions.  Often they are about food or health related, one year it was to remove HFCS, another year to purge food dyes, that sort of thing.  This year though perhaps I need to refocus inward and see what sort of growth I want to see in myself.  What about you?  What has the coming end of the year brought to mind for you?  What do you see for yourself in 2011?  Amazing...2011.  But before I get ahead of myself, I need to enjoy the end of 2010.

From the mouths of babes

Paulo has a friend over right now.  I told them they could play 30 minutes of Wii, after that they needed to find something else to do.  Near the end of the 30 minutes they were talking about who M had "unlocked" on his Wii and Paulo said he wanted to go see all the people that M had unlocked.  Could they play at his house now?

Paulo's friend answered, in the honesty only children have, that they couldn't play at his house because his Mom and Dad were divorcing and they were screaming at each other a lot....broke my heart.  This led to a brief discussion between the two about what that meant, what kinds of things were they screaming, that sort of thing, while I stood, motionless in the kitchen.

I grew up in a house of conflict, I remember some real doozies of arguments.  One in particular scarred me, I was laying on the couch trying to watch Saturday morning cartoons while my parents stood maybe 10 feet away fighting, one threatening to leave, the other goading her with offers to help her pack.  I feel bad for those kids, I know how hard that is to grow up not sure if your parents are going to stay together-or if they should. 

For now though I suppose all I can do if offer my home to my son's good friend so he can come here, play and just be a kid. 

Violated

That's how I feel right now.  Violated.

That's the window of my front porch.  Well, not my front porch today, but the front porch I grew up in.  The window I could see out when I had to wash dishes.

That used to be the back door I ran in and out of to the back yard.  It was the laundry room and the pantry was just off to the left when you walked in the door. 

That's the window I watched the big lightening storm out of when I was a little kid.  I sat there in the dining room with my Mom, just the two of us.  I saw a flash of lightening so big, so bright, so close and so perfectly formed it scared the socks off me! 

And those are the doors we used to leave open in the summer to get the breeze in.  When we were really little that was the bedroom of my older brothers.  When I was a teenager it was my Dad's "den".  I can still see him sitting at his desk, balancing his check book, grumbling to himself.  I can still see 11 year old me sitting at the ancient computer playing the old Wagon Train, Westward expansion, game.  It was one of the only computer games I had.  This was pre Nintendo days. 

I took Paulo berry picking today out on Sauvie's Island.  To get there we have to pass down Highway 30, which is where my old childhood home sits.  I saw my Dad's white truck in the driveway on our way out to the farm.  I figured if he were still there when we came back we'd stop, I'd show Paulo the house I grew up in-it's light years away from how he's growing up, almost like another planet, and he's old enough to start to understand where I came from.  He was still there an hour or so later when we passed back by so we stopped.  And I found my Dad standing in the driveway and our house, vandalized.  The house has been empty for years.  I started pushing my Dad to demo it a few months ago, for a variety of reasons, but one of those is that this empty house is a liability.  I was more concerned about a homeless person getting in and starting a fire to keep warm, that fire then getting out of control, destroying the business next door, Forest Park, etc.  But I also knew that his house was a huge temptation to vandals.  It's like the geek in 5th grade with a kick me sign taped to his back.  Unfortunately we have a lot of red tape to cut through because the house is still titled to his late 1st wife, we hired an attorney and the slow process began.  It's has not gotten very far.  And sometime after Wednesday and before today, someone decided to kick my house.

I just feel, violated.  This was my home.  I came home from the hospital to this house when I was born.  I learned to walk in this house.  I learned to ride a bike just down the street in the big parking lot of a warehouse.  I remember my bike, it was a Christmas present, it had a banana seat.  I celebrated Christmas there more years than not until I was an adult, and even then, when I was in college I came home there for holidays.  My Mom baked cookies and bread in that kitchen.  She read to me in that house.  My Father and I played uno and built jig saw puzzles in that dining room.  And someone just peed all over my family home.  Yes it's uninhabitable now, but it was our home at one time.  Two people raised a family there.  It didn't belong to them, they did not have the right to kick my house.

Memories

I had to pick up Dimitri yesterday from the golf course that's way, way, way out off I-5 North, Heron Lakes.  I left my office at 4:30, prime rush hour, and immediately hit traffic.  I finally made it to the car pool lane and said a silent prayer of gratitude that with Paulo in the car I met the minimum people requirement to use that lane.  Finally made it to the golf course, I had a vague idea of where we were going but had never been there it was a little shaky, picked him up and started back.  Now I-5 South at 5:30, yes it took me almost a full hour to get to the Golf Course, is even worse.  So I decided to take the scenic route.

Fortunately I have a good sense of direction and knew that if I followed a certain road it would lead me to Lombard St. which I could then take to the St. John's Bridge, to Hwy 30 and ultimately back onto I-5 South.  It's a loop, but we would avoid the traffic traps known as the I-84 on ramp and the Rose Quarter.  Traffic I'm sure was even worse than normal because last night little Justin Bieber was at the Rose Quarter for a concert and thousands of screaming tweens were on their way to watch the little guy sing.  Seriously, how old is he?  I know they say he's 16 but he does not look older than 12!

Anyway, we headed off down into North Portland and immediately I'm hit.  No, not my car, my mind.  Memory after memory after memory flood my brain.  You see, I grew up over there.  I traveled that road regularly.  As I'm driving down the street it's almost an overwhelming sensation.  Look, that's the park we used to play at.  Look, there's where I used to get my hair done-back then it was a beauty school and Mom and I would go to get our hair done by the upper level students.  They also did my prom hair when I was 14-I had a much, much older boyfriend.  I sat in those chairs for hour up on hour waiting for the perm solution to take effect-oh yes, my friends, I had perms-and lots of them.  We drove further and passed our family's favorite Chinese joint-I'm sure it's not the same people running it but the building looks the same.  The Safeway was new, that used to be a Thriftway I think and there was a King's Table buffet across the parking lot that has long since been bulldozed.  Our family of 6 would go to King's Table for special dinners out, I thought that was pretty darn fancy back then.  I was especially fond of the ice cream station.  Oh the big cone of soft serve mixed chocolate and vanilla, that was my favorite.  We made it down through St. Johns, with my children being subjected to a few more oh look...there's....and then across the bridge.  The bridge I used to walk across as a child with my Mother and ride my bike across as a teenager.  I would ride my bike over the bridge and do my shopping for Outdoor School crafts with my best friend, Abbe, then we'd ride to my house and spend hours making bracelets and name tags, making beads and decorating our wood cookies.  We drove down Highway 30 towards I-5, the road I used to travel every single day of my life, and passed the street I grew up on.  The street I came home from the hospital to when I was born.  The street I lived on every year until I was 18, with the exception of 4 years of moving around.  The street where we celebrated every Christmas, every Easter, every birthday.  The street that I used to run down as a little girl to greet my Daddy when he came home from work.  The street I trudged up with my backpack heavy after school.  The street where the house still stands-for now.  The house, now empty and abandoned but still owned by my Father, needs to be demolished, it's falling down, it's unsafe.  Frankly by my standards it was probably unsafe when I lived in it too, but I didn't know any different and above all, it was home.  A few minutes walk away from the house sat a restaurant.  The restaurant that my Mother and I walked to for lunch on my 13th birthday and she gave me her ruby ring.  The building still stands, but it's an adult video store now, which makes me sad. 

I don't travel those roads anymore.  Neither literally nor figuratively.  It feels like a lifetime ago, and really, that's not far from true.  I lived there for 18 years.  I've lived elsewhere for 18 years.  And where I live today could not be farther than where I grew up, on many different levels.  Part of me feels sad about that.  There's a lot to be said for urban living.  From the outside looking in I see a greater sense of community involvement and interpersonal connections.  I look at my neighborhood, safe in the 'burbs, and I don't see any of that connectivity.  We live in a bedroom community, we live our lives elsewhere and come home to eat and sleep.  There's little opportunity for getting out and getting to know my neighbors.  If I want a latte, I have to get in my car and drive a couple of miles.  When you live in an urban area chances are, you can walk.  It might not be Starbucks-who am I kidding Starbucks are everywhere!-but you can walk down the street and get a latte.  Not me.  I think I'd like it though. 

I'm glad I decided to take that scenic route.  The timing was right, I was nostalgic and a little emotional already because of my birthday.  It was good to remember where I came from and also how far I've come.