Aptly Named

Since I haven’t posted anything on here since March, and it is now May, it might be obvious that I was thinking of abandoning my dear Fumbling. Indeed, I did abandon it, and you all (all 3 of you who actually read it), until now. What can I say for myself?

I was fumbling.

Fumbling around trying to just hang on with everything going on - finished up my student teaching and began staying at home with Mr. E. I had high hopes that I would post even more often once that change occurred, picturing myself cozily seated on the couch with Skeeter while the little lad slept the day through.

(All you stay-at-home moms can commence hysterical laughter now).

Uh, I was kinda busy. Like, CONSTANTLY busy and when he slept I GOT STUFF DONE because when he was awake he required ALL OF MY BEING. When I had a brake, I sat and gazed at the computer screen or TV.

Uh, I watch A LOT of TV now.

(All you stay-at-home-moms can commence your enthusiastic “uh-huhs” now).

Then, well, I just felt drained with the blog thing. Believe it or not, my life just felt too full to add blogging to it. Well, I guess that’s not quite true, since I’ve become somewhat of a F*ace*book addict, but I digress…

So, then came the BIG MOVE, which JUST HAD to occur right after my mom visited, which JUST HAD to occur right after her first chemo treatment, which she got sick from during her visit. In the midst of all our belongings packed up in boxes throughout the house. I thought she’d be there to help take care of Mr. E while we finished packing. Instead I had to take care of her. A lot. As in, had to drive to Maine to bring her home because she was sick. The DAY BEFORE our move.

We were both in a sh*tload of denial about that one.

So I was leaving a place I love, being a reluctant stay-at-home mom (more on that later I suppose), getting ready to give up having our own place, and dealing with my sick mom, who couldn’t even hold her grandson during her visit. It was all I could do to cope day-to-day and get everything done, and when I’m stressed like that I usually turn inward instead of outward.

I’m learning I need not to do this.

Same thing has been happening the past few days. We moved, and it was completely exhausting and stressful beyond belief, and until I started my summer job I was having a rough time with the lack of structure. Once I started having a place to go that was JUST MINE, even if it meant grilling up steak and cheeses, it was something. But the deli is VERY cliquish, with my co-workers 20 years older than me and native Cape Codders, and think nothing of making gay jokes right in front of me. They’ve never known anything different. They talk openly about going out on Saturdays together dancing at the local bar, without a thought to ask me (I wouldn’t go anyway). But we are of two different species: me, just washed ashore, young, queer, with my M.Ed and this deli gig just a stop on the way. Them: this is their life, period.

I just really, really want to teach.

I know it’s early, and I know it’ll happen for me eventually. But last night the faces of my kids from student teaching flashed before my eyes and I just cried. I miss them. I miss doing what I love. I CAN’T WAIT to do what I love. Sometimes it’s just hard.

Getting used to life in our new community has been both exciting and frustrating. It’s gorgeous here - things are blooming, and I LOVE our church. Even before we moved here I claimed it as my/our place to connect with this community and make our own friends. E. has lots of family, and her family has lots of friends, but as for us having our OWN friends, it comes down to nil. I thought the church community would be a great way to meet people. Last week we officially joined.

So did my mother-in-law.

Ok, I’ve REALLY tried to be open-minded and understanding about this. Obviously anyone can join or attend whatever church they wish. But I started attending this church last fall, and felt at home there. She recently learned we were joining, and wanted to join too. I think she likes it ok, but has attended just a couple of times. Let me explain. She’s the type of person that likes to join ANYTHING. There’s a famous family story that she once saw a huge line somewhere and got in it just to see what all the fuss was about. In short, she’s a JOINER.

Whatever. I can still make my own friends and get involved in my own way. But put all these things together, and I’ve been feeling a bit down lately. I found myself turning inward again, not wanting to deal with anyone, even E. Thankfully, my wife is quite observant and patient, and made me talk about it. I felt so much better. We decided that since we live with her parents, and don’t really have our own social network yet, we really have to make time for just us - either the three of us, or the two of us. I think that will really make a difference. I’m realizing I need to talk things out with her instead of retreating.

I’m also remembering I don’t do well with big transitions.

A similar experience happened when we moved to the Valley. I think I was mildly depressed for months (might have had to do with the fact that we were completely broke as well). But I’m just a stable gal - I like knowing what’s ahead - a loooong way ahead: where we live, where I work, etc. Being with E. has helped me relax a bit in this area in very healthy ways, but to some extent it’s just the way I am.

So perhaps this transition will be hard for me for some time. I think blogging about it might help, too.

Thanks for reading, whoever you 3 readers are.

Counting Sheep

It appears in the last couple of days I’ve had a touch of the Insomnia.  Mr. E. wakes me up, then I can’t get back to sleep for like HOURS.

I’m tired.

But sleep does not come.

Instead my mind races with a million different thoughts from what time we have to leave the next day to drop off the car for an oil change, to how in the world we’re going to manage to get Mr. E out of our bed someday.

But mostly I’ve been thinking about this: my mom has breast cancer.

I posted recently about how she had a scare a couple weeks ago - had a lump but Dr. said it wasn’t cancer - but somehow now they know that it is.  She is having another surgery this coming Thursday, then will find out how much/if it has spread, and plans for chemo and radiation.  When she called me she was completely devestated, since she was told she was in the clear before.  It’s also such hard news to hear since my Aunt just passed away from breast cancer last fall, and my mom is not that much older than her.

When my Aunt passed away, I posted about my relationship with cancer, so I won’t repeat it here.  What makes me the saddest is that when hearing my mom’s news, I felt a familiar defeat to such a pervasive disease.  I was in shock for a few days, now I think I’ve hit the anger stage.  I know I have not fully accepted it, and I keep trying to think about E’s aunt as an example of the possibility of living with cancer instead of dying from it.

We planned a trip for two weekends from now to visit my parents, and that also keeps me going - I really need to be with my mom right now.  I know she’s shocked and terrified, and I want to comfort her as much as I can.

2008 brought us our wonderful Mr. E, but so far the rest has been really. damn. hard.

Touchy-Feely

I’ve been a bit overwhelmed and busy lately.  More than anything, I’ve been feeling a lot of different things, including:

• completely overwhelmed at what I need to accomplish during my student teaching
• exhausted from sleepless nights, coupled with teaching all day
• a deep sadness at the loss of Emmy Lou - more than I ever thought I’d feel
• sheer awe and humility at the intelligence, resilience, cleverness, affection, and persistence shown by 4th graders
• appreciation and excitement that I get this time solely dedicated to learning how to be a teacher
• profound wonderment that I had such a hard time deciding which Democratic candidate to vote for, and still in utter shock of the loss of feeling like I’m voting for the lesser of two evils (or, my favorite twist: the evil of two lessers), and instead feeling completely satisfied if either of the two front-runners get the nomination
• a deepended love and appreication for E., who cares for Mr. E. all day and night, crafts diaper liners and homemade wipes, manages so many household importances, and does it all with such grace and without any complaint
• complete relief and thankful that my mom, who is getting a lump removed from her breast, is ok and without a cancer diagnosis
• completely in love with Mr. E., who stays on my mind all day, and is the first thing I want to see when I wake up, and when I walk in the door after a long day, and whose skin I’ll never tire of kissing

Delayed Reaction

My cousin visited the other day, a rare occasion although we live a mere 30 minutes apart, albeit separated by the vast but unmentionable class and racial geographic boundary of this area. She came to drop off some of her homemade fudge and a small gift, and I was excited to see her after so long. We grew up together - are the same age and share our birthdays, but as adults seem to have little in common.

While we were visiting, E. and I were telling her about our troubles with our cat, Mr. Lou. She immediately began talking about her own situation with her cats (ah yes, a quality of hers I’d forgotten about), and how one of her cats had died and she discovered it, freaked out, and her boyfriend took care of it. She looked at the two of us, and asked, “If you discover your cat dead, who will take care of it?” I think we disregarded the question with our plan of the next time he gets sick, we are taking him in to put him down (plus the fact that I’ve hardly EVER heard of this happening to people!). Thus, since we know his illness so well by now, we won’t let him suffer to the point of death.

Later on I’m vacuuming and whirling around the house like a tornado, when I cut he power, turn to E. and explode into a stream of curse words including “What the F was THAT about? What, does she think we are SHORT A MAN around here, or something??!!” Holy delayed reaction! I had been festering about that one, quietly, for a couple hours (and perhaps the pre-parent jitters also had something to do with my sensitivity level…). My cousin also made a couple uncomfortable comments during her brief visit that painfully reminded me that she is not “all there” with being completely ok with us - or me - at least not in the way I’m used to. Another one happened after she saw a framed newspaper article from when E. and I got married, just after the court ruling, and she remarked, “The subtitle saying ‘Lesbian’ is kind of weird - almost used in a derogatory way.” Um, it really isn’t - perhaps the derogatory use of the word came out of her own head onto the page.

What a weird reminder. I literally live in the bubble of supportive friends, family, bloggers - that I completely forgot how strange (and possibly wrong) my life is to some people. How lucky I am to only have this brutal reminder once in a great while? I know so many others have to walk around with daily shields of defense.

It also sadly confirmed for me our distance to one-another. She’s lived with her boyfriend and their now 4-year-old child forever, and I’ve met her boyfriend maybe once, and he barely spoke to me. How do I know how he feels about me? I don’t have the energy to care anymore. I’ll see her occasionally, but I just don’t have the space in my personal life to put up with judgments*, not if I can help it. I’m luckily surrounded by a gazillion supportive and loving people, thank-you very much. And I certainly DON’T need any of this around our child.

It’s such a bummer when those you love disappoint you.

*While we’re on the topic, if you are reading this and you are not queer, please refrain, when your queer friend is talking about his/her family, from asking “are they ok with you/your partner?” If you do, I hope that person asks back, “Yes, and are YOUR parents ok with YOU?”

ETA: Note to self: Use as a springboard for an angsty post about the “inner dad.”

Thankful for Lasts

We returned today from spending two nights in Maine visiting my family for Thanksgiving.  Everything went well, and it was good to see my family.  But what took up the most space in my mind the entire time was the fact that this was our last Thanksgiving before Moon arrives.  And this will be our last Christmas.  In other words, I’m currently obsessed with Lasts.

I am so utterly thankful that this holiday season is our last without children.  It all feels so right that we are starting our family now - I know we are both more than ready individually, and it also feels right at this point in our relationship.  It is just unbelievable to think that we will have an 11-month old next Christmas.  We both get so excited and giddy thinking about it!

For all the ways my family drove me nuts this weekend (in all the usual ways), I am so thankful that E. and I are about to start our own.

Heavy Heart

Like many things we think of when we are young, I think my view toward having someone in your life pass away was very simple: that it only affects you as much as you were close to that person. As an adult, what I’ve experienced is so much more complicated than that - and so much less self-centered. Along with your memories of that person, you carry around that person’s loved ones and what they are going through - spouses, children, brothers, sisters, grandchildren. Even if you never knew the person you still carry these connections around with you, as I’m doing for a co-worker who just lost her dad.

It’s hard when these things seem to happen one-after-another and you carry around multiple people in your heart going through perhaps the hardest part of life. The fact that I feel deeply for loved ones or friends going through it only confirms for me how much we are all connected to one-another in a very primal way. I continue to feel this more strongly, and steadily, as I grow older, and for that I am thankful.

I never in my wildest dreams thought this love and caring could seep through computers as it has for E. and J. during this difficult time with their uncle, and that only further confirms that empathy, love and caring exist even when we’ve never seen each other’s face. In a time when death seems to be at many doors right now, that is what keeps me going.

Plethora

Thanks so much to everyone for your kind words - it really helped me through. The funeral was really tough to take, but so moving to hear from so many people that my Aunt touched in her life, and the best thing I heard the whole weekend was her mother, my grandmother, say to me, “I’ve made my peace with it, I hope you will too.” This coming from a woman who has now buried 3 of her 7 children. How can I dwell on death after hearing that?

So one moves forward and busies oneself with the endless daily tasks that thankfully allow us to forget about the big picture for a while. Yesterday was my first day back volunteering at the after-school program, and I was so happy to see the kids there and catch up with how their summers were, learn new card games, and gain a bit more confidence with rule enforcement, one of my personal goals for my experience there. I absolutely LOVE this program - it’s based at the school and is run by this amazing woman who has no children of her own but from whom I’ve learned so much from. Not to mention the kids - all 30 of them - are awesome. They come in after a full day of school and play, eat, do homework, argue, and for the most part are happy and content to be there with us until their parents come at 5:30. I love being there while they unwind from their day and just chit chat, play games, or just sit and watch their amazing energy.

My life continues to feel fuller with each day as classes near and I continue to cross things off my life-list and somehow continue to ignore the invisible item called, “start exercise routine that will enable me to have the energy to do all of these things.” Oops. Somehow the “doing” edges out the “sustaining” on the list. Need. to. work. on. this.

I’m so crazily excited to go away this weekend with my honey to our favorite get-away, and can’t quite comprehend that it will be our last time before baby arrives. We have been traveling a whole lot lately, but not just the two of us. I’m excited for the drive through the mountains, waking up and going downstairs for breakfast in our PJ’s, sitting by the fire, strolling the main street of the quaint small town, listening to live music in the living room downstairs, and most importantly, spending 3 whole days with just my honey. Yae!!

The good, the bad, the wonderful

I’ve been a volleyball of emotions lately, bouncing from one extreme to the other and back again.  On the good - we had a great visit with E.’s family, and I saw the area with new eyes, picturing living there for the first time.  On Sunday I visited the local UU service and really enjoyed it.  I fell in love with our new nephew, who is so completely precious and cute I just can’t stand it.  I feel so blessed at E.’s parents’ offer to put us up when we first move there so we can get on our feet.  I’m a bit nervous at what so much Fox news blaring in the background will do to my psyche, but I’ll figure out how to deal.

On the bad - my aunt who was battling breast cancer for a long, long time passed away over the weekend.  Although not completely unexpected, it hit me hard.  She was only in her 40’s and had 2 middle-school-aged children.   I just kept thinking about them, her husband, my dad, and everyone, and was near-tears all weekend.  The funeral is this weekend - so we are on road again.

This makes my second aunt claimed by breast cancer at a young age.   Another aunt currently has ovarian cancer.  One of E.’s aunts has breast cancer.  I feel surrounded by the possibility of untimely death - like if we breath the wrong way we’ll catch this cruel disease  (that actually might not even be too far off).  Mostly I feel angry and powerless to give back these young kids, these brothers and sisters, these parents - the beautiful women they deserve.

On the wonderful - the ultra-sound was yesterday, and again I was teary but thankfully for different reasons.   This new life we longed for and created together is there - and I saw all of it on the screen - happy and healthy and playing peek-a-boo with its hands.  Talk about a distraction from grief - I was so completely happy and humbled seeing those 10 little toes and fingers of our child.

It amazes me how much more fragile life seems as I get older.  Life can come - and go - so freely of its own accord that the realization of it literally feels like it stops me and takes my breath.  When did I reach Adulthood - this learning to watch life come and go and focus on both the big picture and appreciate the little things?  Either way, I’m thankful for it - it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.

Becoming the Path

It’s always strange when I happen to be reading a book that explores and dissects the very issues that have recently bubbled to the surface of my brain - or it could be that I chose to re-read this favorite because some part of my subconscious knew that reading it would help me work through something. In any case, stars and books aligned, I’ve been mentally immersed in contemplating my relationship to geographic place – that is, re-evaluating what I want or need for myself and my family where I live.

I can link this near-obsessive contemplation to a minor event that happened recently that made me realize what few real and close connections we have to people where we live. But I’d be lying if I said that parts of it haven’t been brewing for a long time – finding it difficult to meet people here and form a sense of community, longing to give our kids the experience of living near relatives that we both had growing up, the lifestyle change of having relatives so close by to help with childcare and general emotional support.

Perhaps the latter two points have only been hypothetical until recently, and therefore the fun of living in a college town won out over making the move toward family. E. has nudged me in the direction of this move for a while, to which I always retorted with, “Move to god’s waiting room, where our neighbors will either be over 55 or will move to their ‘winter homes’ each year?” I then would proceed to tout the endless opportunities for fun in this area – the live music, the restaurants, the political protests, college lectures, the festivals and fairs. All of which we’ve been enjoying less and less of each year either because we are getting older and more boring, or we’ve gotten a bit wiser with money. Still – I remained enthralled with possibility just outside our door if we ever wanted it. I feared taking that away would be the end of fun as I knew it – or rather, the ever-present possibility of fun.

But, in choosing whether or not to move, do I fear the closing up of possibilities around me, or the chipping away of what I consider to be important parts of myself? Which parts of myself are enhanced by, or thrive on, place? How do I identify what parts of a place are the most important for me (and my family) to thrive?

E. and I moved here strictly on the basis of place. We had no jobs and didn’t know anyone here. We chose this area because of its culture (realize this was in relation to near-Northern Maine), outdoor activities, live music, good food, education, and geographic locale to 4 surrounding states, many with similarly-fun activities waiting to be discovered. Not to mention that we could be queer – and queer parents – with little a thought to how we would be treated in most parts of our everyday lives. I fell in love with this place – and thought we’d likely be here forever.

Perhaps love at first sight is also blind – because over the course of 4 years I’ve figured out that this place is not perfect – as of course no place is. We meet friends our age and they move on – to graduate school or to live in some other place better set up for permanence – and I realize the great parts of a college town are also its downfall – people move in, people move out. Our friends have come and gone – and one day I look around and see that what this place has never been able to offer me are lasting relationships and community. And meanwhile age has worked its magic and gone and changed my priorities while I wasn’t looking – and now I long for a sense of community so much I’m mystified as to how anyone finds or creates it. We can’t even leave our cats for a weekend – no one we know well enough to ask them to shove a couple pills down our cat’s throat each day while we are gone. Granted, living on a college campus probably hasn’t helped much, and perhaps if we’d been living in a neighborhood things would be different. And not that I’m holding cat-sitters as the standard, but I immediately get a picture of how hard parenting will be without close connections and a sense of community. I can’t deny that family who we (miraculous as it may be) actually enjoy and are close to provide a ready-made mini-community. Particularly in terms of our kids, E.’s sister-in-law said it best once: “No one takes care of your kids like family.” And I know first-hand it’s true.

And what is it again that I love so much about this place? We’ve maybe seen live music once in the past year, and rarely take advantage of the many offerings this area has, save for some random hikes and pond swims here and there. For the amount of times I take advantage of the “unique” offerings here, I could find those offerings in a new place. And then I’m left with the question: “What parts of our selves depend on place?” More specifically, “Who will I be if I’m in a new place?”

There are, of course, many things I love about the Cape – the beach, the rural-ness, P-town, the tiny unexpected pockets of locally-owned health food stores and activists, not to mention the warm, cozy UU church we were married in. And, of course, E.’s family, who we are very close to. And this is where, for the first time, my thinking shifts from myself to concerns outside of myself, to consider what’s best for my whole family. Perhaps this is the crux of my emotional breakdown the other day – a sort of reckoning with myself that I can no longer afford to only consider mine and E.’s needs – a thought both terrifying and invigorating.

But I fear leaving this place – perhaps because I feel I’ve become it – so much that I fear leaving it would be leaving myself. When we moved here, parts of me were able to be fed on a daily basis just by being here. Would I lose myself if I left this place?

The author of Drinking the Rain struggles with this very question – since she becomes quite a different person when she spends summers in a different place – and worries if those parts of her will remain when she has to move. A wise friend assures her that place has no power to dictate who we are, and quotes the Buddha: “You cannot travel on the path before you have become the path itself.” Her friend assures her:
“Everything you learned here will go with you. And what you haven’t yet learned you’ll be able to discover somewhere else. That’s what it means to be on your path – your understanding will just keep deepening.”

Of course, I am me no matter where I live. Perhaps what we think we need from a place mostly resides within ourselves – we just have to notice and nourish it. And if a place is truly not able to enhance what we value, we can always leave. But I need to trust that I am becoming the path I’ll soon be traveling, and will already have the tools necessary for the journey.

And, I know, the irony that I’ll soon become another young person leaving this place is not lost on me.  At least I’ll fit in really well when I hit retirement age.

Happenings

I just finished the final HP book and all I can say is, J.K.R. better write many, many more books.  Wow.  The book has consumed me for the last 4 days, I’ve been thinking about the plot even when I’m not reading it, thinking out the twists and turns as I drift off to sleep.  How does she do it?  Amazing.  And now it’s all over. Sigh.

Our baby shower last weekend was amazing - people are VERY generous and it really is true that (most) people just LOVE an excuse to buy lots of baby stuff.  And it actually is all really cool and cute when you are the one opening the gifts for your own child.  And wearing a sash that says “mom to be.”  I admit I was slightly nervous if any of it would make me feel too much like the “other” mother, but as I sat right next to E. and took turns opening gifts, it all felt fine.  And if she gets a bit more of the attention - then well, she is the one growing this baby!

Friday I’m off to my hometown to reunite with fabulous friends from High School and see some family as well.  A mini-vacation without E., and also my last “hurrah” pre-baby.  Although I have lofty thoughts of drinking in excess, staying up late, and getting into trouble just like the good ‘ole days, I’ll most likely be in bed by 11 and wake up from a 2-glass of wine headache.  Ah, age.

Although I’m staying with my bestest bud instead of with my parents (thank Jesus), I’m sure I’ll have some stories from my family driving me mad, which I do even when I see them for a mere 12 hours.  Stay tuned…