I was driving down Main Street last Thursday afternoon. Completely annoyed with the dump truck driver in the truck in front of me. The guy needed to make up his mind; either blow through the yellow lights or stop at a reasonable distance. These quick stops are spewing stone all over the place and replacing a windshield just isn't in the budget right now. Instead of letting my head throb form traffic, I decided to take a right on Quaint Ave. I won't get to my destination (Target) any sooner, but I'll be less annoyed and I love looking at the houses. The houses are of the same era and style as my own little house. But inside; well, inside, I know they have shining hardwood, built-in cabinetry and back staircases. This neighborhood is my little dream just three blocks away from my own street.
Usually, my heart gives a little leap when I see the Tangerine Dream. A huge, orange house with an overgrown flower garden and beautifully crafted scroll work. Thursday, all I felt was sadness. And then anger.
Ahhh. I've felt this before. It's loss.Why Thursday? A sunny day, kids in their car seats, we're running errands, eating a Frosty and I have The Cure playing just loud enough so I can sing and dance like the 80's loving fool I am? Hmm. This is a feeling that usually hits me a few days after a clinic visit, and comes as no surprise.Oh. Dream neighborhood. Bills to pay. Truck to fix. Blood to fix. My plans will never come to be. The built-ins, the back staircase, the 3rd floor attic space that would be a studio-playroom, the wavy brick road. These things will never happen. I am mourning the loss of the future I had made up in my imagination.
I never had the address I lost on Thursday, so why was it so upsetting? I worry about the future all of the time. Constantly. The unsettled feeling that something is forgotten, something needs to be done, something foreboding is about to happen is always hangs over me. An odd feeling for this happy girl, but it's there and I dare not speak of it to anyone. I am a happy girl, I get things done with a smile. I am the care taker of the world. I hold these worries and losses tight to me so others don't have to.
What do I have to worry about? I worry that medical bills will cause us to lose everything we have. I worry that we will be living with my parents, without health insurance, or cute shoes. I worry about how Little Man will pay for his medical bills in the distant future, health insurance, a home, car and family. I worry.My husband has a good job, he works amazingly hard. However, I can't afford to go to work. We cannot afford child care. Plus, who could I trust to take care of Little Man and who would be willing to take that task? Someone recently told me to think outside the box.
Hmmm. With two little ones at home I could take "900" calls, breath heavy and sigh lightly. But I would get the giggles, I know I would. Anyway, dirty talk to me is all about floors and laundry; not quite the turn on I imagine most 900 callers are looking for. I could go the way of generations of women before me and sell eggs. But I don't have any chickens. I do, however have eggs that are ripe for the picking and no where near expiration. Thanks to government and insurance companies, they cost quite a lot for me to keep under control, so if I got rid of these precious eggs I could lessen a monthly bill and make someone else happy. This just may be a winning idea.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
In the blink of an eye
Ian woke this morning with a small eye hemorrhage. It's nothing dangerous or serious, he can't even feel the spot. It is however, a little disturbing to see that red spot in his eye. Yet again I am reminded that our day can change at the blink of a pretty brown eye and my daydreams may be just that.
And then I thought of the Aesop's Fable, A girl and her bucket.
A young girl was going to market with a bucket of milk on her head.
"With the gold that I get from the sale of this milk, I'll buy a red hen," she said. "The hen will lay eggs, they'll hatch and then I'll have many chicks to raise. I'll feed them well and when they're grown, they will each lay eggs. and those eggs will hatch and I will have more hens, who'll lay more eggs that will hatch into chicks...
Before long I'll be rich and I'll wear fine clothes with emeralds and rubies from my collar to my toes. and one day perhaps I shall visit the Queen. I shall bring her rare gifts from China. I'll enter the court with my arms full of treasure. Bowing low I shall say, "FOR YOUR MAJESTY'S PLEASURE!"
And she bowed low...
With that sweep of her arm, she knocked off the bucket and spilled her fantasy load.
"Oh dear," she cried, "my dreams are splattered in puddles of milk on the road...."
And then I thought of the Aesop's Fable, A girl and her bucket.
A young girl was going to market with a bucket of milk on her head.
"With the gold that I get from the sale of this milk, I'll buy a red hen," she said. "The hen will lay eggs, they'll hatch and then I'll have many chicks to raise. I'll feed them well and when they're grown, they will each lay eggs. and those eggs will hatch and I will have more hens, who'll lay more eggs that will hatch into chicks...
Before long I'll be rich and I'll wear fine clothes with emeralds and rubies from my collar to my toes. and one day perhaps I shall visit the Queen. I shall bring her rare gifts from China. I'll enter the court with my arms full of treasure. Bowing low I shall say, "FOR YOUR MAJESTY'S PLEASURE!"
And she bowed low...
With that sweep of her arm, she knocked off the bucket and spilled her fantasy load.
"Oh dear," she cried, "my dreams are splattered in puddles of milk on the road...."
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Meet Dulcie
I come from a long line of lace makers, poets, painters. Women that found beauty in the most difficult and unusual of circumstances. But there is one woman that took me by the hand and led me to a path of imagination and creativity in a way that no other could possibly do.
I would like to introduce my grandmother, Dulcie to you. She was the brilliantly talented woman I have named my shop, Dulcie's Daughters, after. She was a poet, painter and master gardener ; she was a true Renaissance Woman in every way. Her sense of adventure led her to go against tradition and earn her medical degree in a University where only 3 women were enrolled. Her talent earned her publication and acclaim; her grace earned her friendships throughout the world. And through my sister and me, she insured that the creativity flowing though our bodies was never lost to us.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Featured On Day One and I Am So Greatful
I was so excited last night when I finally finished my first Etsy listings, and then I woke up to this... http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list_west.php?room_id=44236 !
I know photography isn't the easiest sell, but I do hope this is a sign of things to come. Yay me!
I know photography isn't the easiest sell, but I do hope this is a sign of things to come. Yay me!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Take Care Mama!
Taking care of a family is tiring. Every parent knows this. Taking care of a family when one or more of you has a chronic illness is exhausting. Only some of us know what this is like."Hospital weeks" feel like a death march on body and soul. I hope there are only a very small handful of you who, like me, knows what this is like.
It's been nearly two and a half years since Little Man had his first Bleed. It's been nearly a two and a half years of worry, fear and the loss of dreams. I'm a mama, we tend to lose our self with the passing of the placenta. Mama's are the whole of someone else's needs and we tend to forget or is that ignore own own needs often. Add a baby with medical needs and you are, at times, lost. We've all forgotten to brush our teeth until 11:00am, we don't shower for 3 days at a time and breakfast often consists of finishing up the cold oatmeal the toddler left behind in his bowl. Mmmm, breakfast of champions.
After Little Man had that first bleed, we spent months on end going to and from the hospital on a very regular basis. One afternoon Sue stopped by. I answered the door a lumpy, smelly, cold oatmeal eating mess. Sue is one of my best friends and she did what any true friend would. She sat me down and gave me a lecture. No, make that the best advise anyone ever had ever given me...
Take care Mama! It went something like this...
"What the hell? You look like Amy Winehouse on a bad day and you smell like swiss cheese." Can't you just feel the love? "Do you think you're doing anyone any good with this self deprivation? Well you're not. Go take a shower and for God's sake, brush your teeth before they start dropping out of your head." I just stared at her. So she said, "I've got the kids handled. Go!" She may or may not have muttered something about my being a dumb-ass, and my trepidation was a personal slight on her parenting and nursing skills.
I worried all the way up the stairs. And then I started the shower water...The hot streaming water and the soap washed away the filth made up of anxieties. I then put on a new layer, of fresh clothes that smelt of Tide and not of despair.
When I finally made my way downstairs, I did not find Little Man in the puddle of blood my imagination had me mopping clean. Instead, I found my sweet boy playing with my friends keys . All the while, Fairy Princess glued hearts and glitter onto a paper hat. It was a blissful sight to behold.
After a cup of tea and more "advise" from a mama in the know (years before she thought she might lose one of her own little Monkey Men to illness). Maybe it was the high from the deodorant fumes or the giddiness from the apple blossom scented shampoo, but I vowed take better care of myself. In all honestly, there are days that I don't get to shower until bedtime and I did eat Girl Scout cookies for breakfast, just this morning. But I do shower and I leave the last of the cold oatmeal alone. I am still sleep deprived and overly caffeinated, but the stench of the past is long gone.
It's been nearly two and a half years since Little Man had his first Bleed. It's been nearly a two and a half years of worry, fear and the loss of dreams. I'm a mama, we tend to lose our self with the passing of the placenta. Mama's are the whole of someone else's needs and we tend to forget or is that ignore own own needs often. Add a baby with medical needs and you are, at times, lost. We've all forgotten to brush our teeth until 11:00am, we don't shower for 3 days at a time and breakfast often consists of finishing up the cold oatmeal the toddler left behind in his bowl. Mmmm, breakfast of champions.
After Little Man had that first bleed, we spent months on end going to and from the hospital on a very regular basis. One afternoon Sue stopped by. I answered the door a lumpy, smelly, cold oatmeal eating mess. Sue is one of my best friends and she did what any true friend would. She sat me down and gave me a lecture. No, make that the best advise anyone ever had ever given me...
Take care Mama! It went something like this...
"What the hell? You look like Amy Winehouse on a bad day and you smell like swiss cheese." Can't you just feel the love? "Do you think you're doing anyone any good with this self deprivation? Well you're not. Go take a shower and for God's sake, brush your teeth before they start dropping out of your head." I just stared at her. So she said, "I've got the kids handled. Go!" She may or may not have muttered something about my being a dumb-ass, and my trepidation was a personal slight on her parenting and nursing skills.
I worried all the way up the stairs. And then I started the shower water...The hot streaming water and the soap washed away the filth made up of anxieties. I then put on a new layer, of fresh clothes that smelt of Tide and not of despair.
When I finally made my way downstairs, I did not find Little Man in the puddle of blood my imagination had me mopping clean. Instead, I found my sweet boy playing with my friends keys . All the while, Fairy Princess glued hearts and glitter onto a paper hat. It was a blissful sight to behold.
After a cup of tea and more "advise" from a mama in the know (years before she thought she might lose one of her own little Monkey Men to illness). Maybe it was the high from the deodorant fumes or the giddiness from the apple blossom scented shampoo, but I vowed take better care of myself. In all honestly, there are days that I don't get to shower until bedtime and I did eat Girl Scout cookies for breakfast, just this morning. But I do shower and I leave the last of the cold oatmeal alone. I am still sleep deprived and overly caffeinated, but the stench of the past is long gone.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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