Last good-byes

This week was supposed to be a nothing-particularly-special type of week, except I was supposed to have a second interview for the job that's currently at the top of my list, but then some family shit hit the fan. My grandmother who was already on hospice had a stroke and started fading, so I quickly had to decide how and when I was going to make the 4 hour trek to see her for the last time. The Hubs couldn't get time off work so I packed a bag, took the baby, and got on the train first thing Tuesday morning.

I had low expectations for how Max would handle 8 hours on a train in one day, but he was amazing. He loved staring out the window and smiling at everyone who walked past our seats. He nursed and napped and hardly fussed at all. And when we got to my grandma's bedside he was perfectly content to chat with my mom and aunt and stare at himself in the mirror while the adults talked. The ride home was exhausting but again, he did great.

Grandma Kay was unconscious the whole time I was there, which I expected. But I believe she could hear us, and that she liked having her family there with her. She seemed peaceful. I spent a few minutes alone telling her that I loved her and would miss her and never forget her. I found out the next morning that she passed away in her sleep late that night.

There are some people who understandably have a hard time being around the dying, so much so that they can't bring themselves to visit and say good-bye. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Saying good-bye is usually more for you than it is for the person who is dying. When my grandfather was on hospice I never went to see him, even though I promised I would, and then one night he just died. I guess I thought I would have more time or there would somehow be more warning before he finally went. That still eats at me. So a few years later when my grandmother, his wife, was fading I made sure to see her and I'm so glad I did. The same goes for my Grandma Kay's death. I haven't been the best granddaughter as far as keeping in contact goes. And over the past 10 or 12 years she had Alzheimer's, so she didn't really even remember me the last time I saw her (over a year ago). So for me it was really important to go see her, even though it meant a long, exhausting day of traveling with a baby by myself.

It's sort of strangely fascinating to me to be around someone in their last hours. I find myself wondering what, if anything, is going through their mind. What they're feeling or if they're absorbing the present moment or lost in their memories. Or if they're dreaming just as if they were asleep. Both of my grandmothers were very peaceful in their last hours, so I don't think they were afraid, but who can really know? Of course we all find out one day what it's like, and I can only hope it's as peaceful for me as it has been for my loved ones.

Now all of my grandparents are gone. I'm not a believer anymore, so I'm not sold on the idea that they're all together in heaven. I like the idea of reincarnation, but I also sometimes feel like I get visits from them (and my mom swears she does). At any rate, I believe whatever has happened to their souls/life force/energy is as good as it ever can be. They were all wonderful people. And my Grandma Kay was a particularly sweet and special lady, who I loved and will never forget.

In defense of the poncho

Does the poncho need defending? I'm not actually sure. I dress pretty conservatively, some might even call my wardrobe boring. I like to call it "classic" but I know I don't take many fashion risks. For example, I really like hats in theory, and I think they look good on me. But whenever I go out on a limb and actually wear one I feel like I'm trying too hard or something. For all I know the poncho might be the height of fashion right now, I pay so little attention to trends. But in my mind it's an inherently dorky fringe clothing item that is difficult to pull off at best.

Well. This year my MIL got my SIL, hopefully future SIL, and me our very own ponchos for Christmas. Mine looks like this:

Patagonia Women's Lightweight Synchilla Fleece Poncho

A regal name for a most regal wearable blanket.

My first thought was, "Cool! I am totally going to wear this when we go camping, and on cool evenings in the backyard around the fire." But definitely not, "I am going to wear this out and about on the town!" Because, dude it's a poncho.

Is the poncho so bad?

I tried it on and OMG. Comfort level of 10. I put the giant hood on and felt simultaneously mysterious and comfy. Like a Star Wars character, but with zippers and seams. I've been wearing it around the house almost every day and it's like wearing a cozy fleece blanket that fits so very very fine. It's almost luxurious, the amount of fabric that envelopes me. And it provides the perfect amount of warmth when I need to run outside to the garage to do laundry in the evenings.

It turns out I love my poncho and I want the world to know! I mean, not enough to actually wear it outside in front of people, but like I will write about it here, and probably one day wear it to the movies. I think it's going to be the perfect movie theater accessory. And of course when we go camping, and in the backyard around the fire, and every single day when I'm at home.

Join me in the poncho revolution!

Upside Right

I've started a little collection of the funny things my daughter spouts off. If you have little ones of your own, or even just know some little ones, I highly recommend making a collection too. Three is a great age for this because not only are they repeating everything they hear, but they're also butchering the language in unexpected and hilarious ways.

Here's a little taste of some of the things my daughter has said this year:

My nipples are shrinking!  They'll come back when I'm four and then they'll be THIS BIG!

No princess has brown eyes.

I think you're delicious.

Let's play hip stotch!

(With tears in eyes) But, my body wants to watch something! (on TV)

Me: Son of a...
Her: Beast!

One of my favorites of her new phrases is "upside right." Call me a terrible mother but I never correct her when she gets phrases like that and "hop scotch" wrong, frankly just because I think it's adorable. She has plenty of time to be corrected! Anyway I thought Upside Right was kinda fitting for this blog because after all those years of failing at TTC and after giving it all up (twice, kinda) we somehow wound up with our perfect little family anyway. Life certainly has a way of turning out completely different from what we plan, and in the end it usually ends up pretty good despite all the hardships we go through.

I still have no particular direction in mind for this space, but since my family-building days are behind me now I thought it was a good time to change things up a little.

**MISTY! Thank you for your comment! I can't find your blog in my reading list, can you remind me of the url please? Is it private? I would love you follow you again!