Slices of Stacy

We'll never starve, I guess...

About a year ago I got really sick for a couple of days and then found out that about half of our peanut butter had the accursed stamp which meant they may have been contaminated.  We actually had about 12 jars of peanut butter at the time.  DJ was positively obsessed with buying more peanut butter.  He got help and I thought it was fixed.  Then I opened the pantry door this weekend and realized that the cure was decidedly temporary.

Do you SEE that?  That's SIX containers of peanut butter.  For a family of three.  My God.  And the soup... I count THIRTEEN cans of soup and that's without moving anything.  God only knows how many more are back there.  If civilization as we know it comes to a crashing halt, we are in great shape because we will be able to eat for a week on what is in our immediate visual field.  What the hell is going on in my husband's mind?

I have a hard time going grocery shopping.  I hate it with a passion and, upon seeing a full cart, have been known to have a panic attack.  DJ is usually happy to assume the grocery shopping duties.  However, I may have to review all grocery lists in the future to make sure they do not contain SOUP or PEANUT BUTTER because the rest of the world needs these items, too. 

The guy buys one measly priest collar and look what happens...

DJ:  So.  I noticed that you drank an entire bottle of Amaretto in a week.

Stacy:  I know!  But Melanie's hot cherry toddy recipe tastes so good!

DJ:  You know what else tastes good?  SOBRIETY AND TEMPERANCE.

You do not do, you do not do

I have to go shopping for a card today.

Every year I dread this, shopping for a Father's Day card for my father.  My parents divorced when I was three and by the time I was five, my father decided not to exercise his visitation rights.  I didn't see him again until I was fourteen.  After that I saw him about once a year.  He has met my husband of ten years exactly once and has never come to meet his granddaughter.  So you see, shopping for a Father's Day card is a challenge: the funny, sarcastic ones come across as too sarcastic and the serious, heartfelt ones... well, they end up sounding sarcastic, too, because we both know they're just not true in our case.

The Blogosphere is probably full of people waxing rhapsodic about their fathers right now.  But there are other kinds of fathers, Internet.

There are fathers who abandon.  There are stepfathers who feel up the girl-children that call them 'Dad', who beat their stepsons and cheat on their mothers.  There are other stepfathers who slap their stepdaughters across the face with the full force of their bodies, who use religion as a tool to shame and hurt and confuse.

And those are just the ones I know about.

Father's Day was a bittersweet holiday for so many years.  It wasn't until my daughter was born that I could start to celebrate again, truly celebrate.  You see, I chose a husband who would NEVER leave his daughter.  I think that may be part of why I chose him.

This itself is not always easy.  There are times when I am acutely aware that I may always play second banana to the tiny tyrant in our house.  There are times when I worry that we're not putting our marriage first and that it has suffered for it.    But it's all too easy to remember sobbing on my bed, convinced I was inherently flawed because my own father didn't love me enough to want to see me.  And I see the relationship that Sweet Pea has with DJ and I know she will never feel this and it is all worth it.

I spent so much time and money in therapy over these issues.  They no longer rule my life, but they shaped me and are a part of who I am.  I will probably always view Father's Day with a skewed eye. 

I have two close friends who lost their fathers in the last year.  This is their first Father's Day without them.  They are grieving.  I know a thing or two about grieving for lost fathers, even if the situations are different.  I hope -- I truly hope -- that they can also use that day to rejoice in the relationships they had.  To treasure the things that shaped the way they grew, to be grateful for the wonderful fathers they had.  I hope they can celebrate on that day, celebrate their fathers as well as their husbands.

In the meantime, I'm going to Hallmark, to try to find a card that will walk the tightrope that I walk every year: trying to express to my father that I love him, that I honor the fact that he is my father, even if I cannot say he was the best Dad in the world.  Then I will help my daughter pick out a card for DJ and the little girl inside me will rejoice because this time?  This time we ARE looking for a card for the best Dad in the world.

Michigan Randomness

Every time I go back to Michigan, it feels like I'm coming home.  Small wonder, since I spent the first 22 years of my life there.  Especially when I'm near my Mom's house, east of Saginaw.  The roads are completely straight, since the land is still primarily farmland.  Everything is in parcels.  It's not uncommon to drive 10 or 15 miles without a curve or hill.

*****

The economy in Michigan is horrible.  There are entire towns that I used to drive through that are now just vacant storefronts.  I hope to God that someone can turn it around.

*****

My astrological sign is Cancer, and I've always felt an strong pull toward water.  The lack of water is one of the things I dislike about Georgia.

Being on the shore of Lake Huron with my daughter felt strangely mystical.  I could tell her that these were the beaches I went to as a child.  The cold, hard-packed sand, the chilly wind.  They were all so strangely familiar to me.  The water is so cold.  You almost can't go in until July.

Of course, we didn't go that far to NOT go swimming, so when we got to Tawas Bay, she gave it a shot:

What you may not be able to see from this shot is that she's sitting on her rear end.  As long as we stayed in the water that was shin-deep, it was okay.

The good news about cold hard sand?  It's ideal for sand castles!

Sweet Pea decided we needed a moat.  To keep out the dragons.  So I refrained from pointing out that in dragon lore, they're usually equipped with wings.

Take my breath away

While I was in Michigan, I got to spend part of a day with my nieces, Fabulous and Captivating.

Fabulous is almost 5 and she is -- well, Fabulous.  After she was born, my sis-in-law found out that they had some Native American, like, waaaaay back in her family -- and it shows in Fabulous.  Dark, incredibly thick hair, almost black eyes.  She is SO smart.  She drew a picture while I was there, three stick figures holding hands.  She said it was me, her and Sweet Pea.  I still have it in my purse.  I had the video camera out at one point and she interviewed herself in depth.

Captivating just turned 2.  She has my brother's eyes -- in fact, she looks so much like my brother that it's startling.  Their eyes are this pale, pale blue -- I told Mom later that her eyes are like those cartoon hypnotizing eyes, you know?  The ones that spin around in circles and stun everyone around them?  Like that.  You look into her eyes and feel like you're falling.  She took one look at me and slowly walked into my arms, gently wrapping them around my neck and leaning into me.  I instantly had tears in my eyes.  She's also developing this fabulous smoky, husky voice.

I swear to GOD... when his oldest daughter reaches puberty, my brother is not going to sleep for, like, ten years.

I cannot wait to see how the next one turns out.

And I miss them -- all of them.  Once a year just isn't enough.

And I wish they felt the same way.

A completely disjointed entry about looking into the future...

I just spend 10 days with various members of my family.  I'm still weeding through some of the emotions, because I had a huge realization while I was there.

I'm not the only person getting older.

I remember when my Great-Grandmother was alive.  For a long time she and her sister lived with my grandparents.  I watched as Uncle George died, then Aunt Dio, then as my Great-Grandmother descended into dementia.  I was just a kid, so I don't remember the process of it happening.  I can remember my Mom and Grandma having conversations about it.  I remember my Grandma laughing at some outrageous claim my Great-Grandma had made.  I was indignant... I couldn't believe she was LAUGHING at her.  Then my Grandma taught me one of the most important lessons she ever would: sometimes there are situations where you can either laugh or cry.  Rather than take her mother-in-law's accusations and recriminations to heart and be saddened by them, she chose to laugh and shake them off.  I also remember her sitting in her basement in her nightgown, sobbing, because she was tired... so tired of being the caregiver.  I didn't understand it then, but having a small child, I do now.  Sometimes you laugh.  Sometimes you cry.

On this visit it became clear that my grandparents are old.  For years I've been saying that they're "getting" old, but now they've arrived.  Once again, I'm not sure when it happened.  In my mind, I can still hear Grandma telling me that my Grandfather was the strongest man in the world -- and I believed her.  In my mind, they should still be the same vital, energetic people who took all three of their grandchildren to their sailboat every weekend.  During this visit I started to notice the tremors, the stumbles.

Then something happened.  It didn't happen until after we left and I'm not comfortable going into details here, but something happened that could be The Beginning of The End.  I can't even believe I'm typing this.

My grandparents are old.  They have become the people who will soon need to be cared for.  That will probably fall to my Mom, but she will need the support of my brothers and I, as she supported my grandparents in their caretaking of my Great-Grandmother. 

I'm not ready for this.  I am selfish.  I do not want to have to help in making decisions, in watching the people who helped to raise me slide toward death.  I want them to keep helping me.  I still feel like a child.

I called my brother to tell him what happened -- partly because what happened involved Sweet Pea and I don't want my nieces, Fabulous and Captivating, to have the same experience when they go to visit.  I tried to express to him how it felt, but I couldn't get the words right.

I don't like this particular epiphany.  It's one thing to realize that your older relatives are going to die.  It's another to realize that there's the strong possibility of messiness beforehand: decisions to be made about caregiving, estates to settle, and the heartbreak of watching two of the people you love most in the world lose their faculties.  Please God... let them not linger in that underworld of confusion.  I don't want my daughter and my nieces to see what I saw with my Great-Grandmother.  But if it does happen... then let my brothers and I come together to support Mom.  Let these experiences draw us together, because that's the only way we'll all survive it.

Well, that and being able to laugh instead of cry.

Pimpin' my husband

http://www.atlantalyrictheatre.com/shows_lamancha_main.html

If you're in the Atlanta area, check out the above.  The handsome man with the voice of an angel, who plays the Padre?  Yeah, that one?  That's my husband.

If you DO happen to live in the area and would like a form to get 2-for-1 tickets, e-mail me and I'll send it to you.

Somehow I just know this is going to involve 'Rock Paper Scissors'

So today Sain't Chris had this to say about his family.  Which led me to imagine my scenario, should I find myself in poor Terri Schiavo's position.

Cast of Characters

Husband.....DJ

Younger brothers by 3 years... Steve

Younger brother by 8 years... Kyle

(Intro to soap opera theme)

Doctor:  She'll never have a meaningful recovery.  She'll drool and blink and stare off into space for the rest of her life.

DJ:  How will that be different than what she's been doing for all these years?

Doctor:  Okay, you're a meanie.  What were her wishes?

Internet:  She wouldn't want to live like this!  She told us! And she wants you to keep Shrub far, far away from her!

DJ:  Yeah, they're right.  Pull the plug.

Doctor:  Okay, Mr. C, just sign here and then flip that switch right th...

Steve:  Wait just a minute!  Why does he get to do it?

DJ:  Duh, I'm her HUSBAND.

Kyle:  So?  She drove us crazy our whole lives.  Bossy shrew.

DJ:  Dude, I can't believe we're having this conversation.

Steve:  I've known her longer than any of you. 

DJ:  Not to be gross or anything, but since I knew her in the Biblical sense, don't you think that trumps everything else?

Kyle:  She dressed me in her ballerina costumes and took pictures.

Steve:  She broke my thumb and convinced me to lie about it so she wouldn't get in trouble.

Kyle:  She showed the ballerina pictures to everyone at my high school graduation party.

DJ:  She snored so badly that I haven't slept a full night in almost 9 years.

Steve:  (digs out quarter) Let's just flip for it.

Kyle:  When I was 13 she told me that if I wasn't mature enough to buy my own condoms, then I wasn't mature enough to have sex and I should just keep it in my pants.  To this day I can't buy, use, or think about condoms without hearing my sister's voice in my head.

:::::sound of crickets chirping:::::

DJ & Steve:  Yeah, dude, you win.  Go for it.

When I grow up, I want to be just like my Aunt Barb

I talked to my Aunt Barb yesterday, for the first time in a couple of months.

Let me explain, first off, that I'm not sure Aunt Barb is really my aunt.  She is my stepgrandmother's niece.  My grandparents got married right before I was born, so I've never thought of my Grandma as a "step", necessarily.  Anyway, in the manner of families, if you're separated by a generation and a half, you're an Aunt by default.

Aunt Barb has always been my favorite aunt.  I just always thought she was fun, you know?  She was pretty laid-back, very smart.  Her husband, Uncle Harry, was smart, quiet.  He was a pilot and took me for my first plane ride.  The main thing I remember about being with them when I was little is that I felt safe.  There were some very untrustworthy men in my childhood, but Uncle Harry wasn't one of them.  As far as Aunt Barb went, we were family, blood relation or no.

Uncle Harry died over a year ago.  I miss him.

Aunt Barb is joining the Peace Corps.  At 76.  Because, as she said yesterday, "I might have ten good years left in me -- do I want to to stay home and polish the furniture or do I want to DO something with that time?"

**********************************************

And because I'm not bringing the funny today, here's someone who is: Very Mom. (with apologies for the linkage because I haven't had a chance to e-mail her to ask her permission -- I'm usually very good about that but this is too damn funny for you guys not to see it).

Let's just see Kelly Ripa pay your college tuition!

So my brother told me that his daughter, Fabulous Kate, (now 3 years old... where DOES the fucking time go?) was in the backseat of their car recently, whining about something.  My SIL said, "Oh, whaaa whaaa whaaa," in that rather insensitive way of women who have had it Up. To. Here. with the whining (and no, I don't know anything about that. Why do you ask?) and Kate said, "Mommy, you're not a very good Mom."

My brother said, "Oh yeah?  Who IS a good Mom, then?"

Kate replied, "Kelly Ripa."