Heavy, Heavy Hang Over My Poor Head

Remember when we used to say that at birthday parties? "Heavy, heavy hang over thy poor head." And then we'd smack the birthday kid in the head with our gift and say, "What do you wish me with a bump on the head?"

Where do these strange traditions come from?

But I digress. There is heaviness hanging over my poor head and not in the form of gift wrap. I am going to stop challenging the Universe with thoughts like, "This year can't get any worse." I'm beginning to fear it's like tossing the Universe a soft ball, and the Universe can't resist proving you wrong.

This has been a monumentally difficult year and on Friday it got exponentially worse. (That's right, I'm pulling out the five-syllable guns for this one.) As one dear friend of ours is fighting the good fight against cancer, another of our dear friends was snuck up from behind by it, sniper-style, with what looks like a fatal blow to the pancreas. And the ripple effect of that blow has brought us to our knees. In a year filled with heartache, frustration, worry and angst, there's nothing quite like the looming death of a loved one to be the proverbial cherry bomb on top and change your perspective on just about everything. And I mean everything. The problems and stresses of Thursday seemed embarrassingly manageable by Friday afternoon. I can't even feel bad about my lack of employment in good conscience anymore.

I feel especially drawn to my kids right now. I want to soak them up and hope that their resilience rubs off on me, just like their scent of must and grass stains. They take terrible news in great stride. They care, they love our friend as we do, and yet they keep moving along finding joy in the same places they always have--candy, corny TV shows, friends, and pizza. They don't try to resist the news, spinning the wheels of "whys" and "what ifs" as if they will turn back time and give us a chance to undo what is already done. Is it because they are still operating in a world protected by the umbrella of our love and security? Because the structure of their world--mom, dad, house, food--is still in place? Or is it because they understand more than we do that there is very little in this life that we can control, and it's only as we get older tinkering with checkbooks, thermostats, and career paths that we mistakenly believe we are in charge?

My first reaction on Friday was to cry. My second was a fleeting determination to stop loving people because it often includes instances of pain. My third was to try to approach this situation with acceptance. My fourth was to bake.

And the baking, as it turns out, was the most productive thing to do. Our friend seems to have developed a healthy sweet tooth in spite of his physical decline. Apparently a cookie can provide temporary joy in this temporary life. Apparently when there seems to be nothing to do to help, a small act of kindness is something.

The kids probably could have told me that.

Your Questions, Answered

Oopsie!  I've been ignoring my questions on Formspring lately.

Question: Can you define yourself in 25 words or less?

Answer: No.

Real answer: I am a work-in-progress, glass-half-full, people-pleasing, laugher, eater, mother, wife, writer, sister, penny-in-the-fountain wisher, and lover of hyphenated words. (Is that less than 25?)

Question: Pros and cons to short and long curly hair?

Answer: Oh dear, prepare yourself with some strong caffeine, I'm about to write about my hair. I've spent the last two years growing my curly hair out. I had been sporting short curly hair for more than a decade and decided that at 31 years-old, this was my last window to grow my hair out. I envisioned that I would spend the remainder of my thirties with long, (artificially) golden locks. (And then I will mark my fortieth birthday with a short haircut and the purchase of several pair of mom jeans.) So I started growing it out. For what purpose? Perhaps to be able to answer this question.

The pros of long, curly hair are that when the stars align and the Hair Gods are pleased with the sacrifices made, a mane of long curly hair can be kind of spectacular and lovely. (Think Felicity and Carrie Bradshaw.) However, the reality is that the Hair Gods are extremely fickle and harder to please than a Jewish mother-in-law, which brings me to the cons of curly hair: most days my hair looks a little meh. (Think various, un-named muppets.) Plus, long hair (curly or straight) is hot in the summer. Most days I am sporting the loose, french twist with a spray of curls at the top, which sounds way more attractive than it actually is.

Now, for short curly hair. The pros are that you get a lot more good hair days, it is easier to straighten, and it's ever so sassy. Plus, you use a lot less product. The cons? Hmmmm. Crap, I can't think of any. This explains my secret desire to whack my hair off again.

Alright, I'm done writing about my hair. If you are still reading this, pat yourself on the back because you deserve it, Champ.

Question: Do you get depressed?

Answer: No and yes. I have definitely felt depressed at times in my life, but I don't think I have ever suffered clinical, long-term depression. My lowest lows were during times of great stress and also postpartum. I have been through some tough crap, trust me. I'm remembering one time in my life in particular right now. Christian was a baby, Ryan was in graduate school, and I had taken a second job on top of my full time job to keep us afloat. I was a mess inside and out. I felt like I was failing in every single area of my life and also felt guilty for bringing a baby into the world, only to spend most of my days away from him. I was definitely on the roller coaster of postpartum hormones and first-time-mother insecurities. I had occasional? frequent? thoughts that my family would be better off without me.

Another unfortunate thing going on in my head was a fear of leaning on Ryan. He had suffered from depression in the past and I was fearful that if I leaned on him, we might both topple over. It was faulty thinking, and I regret it.

Here's another thing about me: I have a hard time recognizing that I need help, and an even harder time asking for it. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but one day I was taking a drive with my dear friend Angie, and I opened up to her. Sort of an emotional vomit all over the front seat of her little white Honda. That was a big moment for me. And she responded with kindness and concern. She was willing to help me get help if I needed it, or give me a shoulder to cry on it if that would fit the bill. I felt immediate relief. (Did I ever thank you properly, Angie? Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!) Everything was going to be alright, she told me. My unhappiness was temporary, she assured me. It was everything she said that made me feel better, but it was also the sweet relief of having someone shoulder my burden. And it meant the world to me.

If you need help, it's okay to ask for it. That's a message for all of us, myself included.

Question: Did (or do) you hope to have a third child?

Answer: Sometimes I have, and sometimes I haven't. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. That's the truth. Ryan tells me that one of the most grownup things we can do in life is accept our ambivalence about things. Look at me, all grownup.

Alright, that's enough for now, isn't it? Thanks for asking your questions.  I'll be posting soon about another question that's popped up a couple of times in my inbox about how I got my job and how to go about finding freelance writing work.

Until then, happy weekend!

Welcome to Movie Island!

This is Movie Island. It might look like an inflatable mattress, because that's what it used to be. However, it is no longer an inflatable mattress. It's a magical island where my family gathers to watch movies. But you can only watch one movie on Movie Island before it disappears into a flat, plastic puddle on the carpet. It's very magical.

I bet you're wondering how you can get your own two-hour magical Movie Island. I've put together a short set of do-it-yourself instructions.

1. Purchase an expensive inflatable mattress at Costco with the intent of using it for decades as a spare sleeping option for houseguests.

2. Leave it inflated in a spare basement room after your houseguests leave.

3. Forget about it for a few months.

4. Ask two small children (preferably boys) to use the mattress as an end zone for indoor football.

5. Ignore the sounds of them making dramatic touchdowns, tackles, and fumbles.

6. Repeat steps 3-5.

7. Check on your mattress after several months. It should be listless and whimpering.

8. Fill it up with air and spend several minutes locating and patching the most significant holes. (Don't worry, there are zillions of tiny holes! You only want to patch the big ones.) Oh, and be sure to use some  profanity. (This is all part of the magical process.)

9. You're almost done! Now it's time to test your magical Movie Island to make sure it has been fully transformed and is no longer an inflatable mattress. Fully inflate it and then sleep on it overnight. If you've been successful, you'll wake on the hard ground after only a few hours. (Note: you can ask a houseguest to perform this step for you.) If you wake on a full mattress, I recommend repeating steps 3-5, but with larger children who are holding knives.

10. Congratulations! You have successfully transformed a regular, expensive air mattress into a magical Movie Island for your family to enjoy for the average length of a feature film!