Where I'm From: Dad

 We had Dad's birthday party almost a month ago. I decorated the Fellowship Hall of their church in green oak leaves and acorns. I purchased a beautiful print of an oak, based on a watercolor painting by a young man named Antony based in Kiev. Bill and I matted and framed it; after the party was over I gave it to Dad as a gift. I also wrote a poem for him. Ages ago a meme of sorts went around social media of free-form poetry titled "Where I'm From...". Earlier in my blog I wrote where I am from; two poems, each representing one side of my family. Here is the one I wrote for Dad:

I'm from Somerset, Kentucky and Columbus, Indiana. From the big house on Chestnut, from which I couldn't leave on my own.

I'm from a mule-riding sheriff and my maternal aunt also my paternal grandma.

I'm from an uncle for whom I was named, who died from a Kamikaze pilot.

I'm from a Dad who walked to the hospital to have a brain tumor removed; and from the miracle that removed the tumor first.

I'm from bluegrass and big noses and a near-replay of a family feud.

From iron skillets, outhouses,and a home bursting at the seams from my parents' generosity.

I'm from beans and cornbread, cherry pie, and a full table.

I'm from big gardens and garter snakes - wrapped around the doorknob for Mom's "pleasure".

I'm from drowned baby ducks, and a little brother who also drowned.

From a one-room school and skipping a grade, and putting one over on my physics teacher.

I'm from a pink Chrysler and dyeing my clothes to match; and a hayride where I met my future wife.

I'm from forgetting my dress shoes on my hotter-than-Hades wedding day.

From faith and hymns and singing in a quartet.

I'm from tending chickens and teaching my children not to be chicken.

From near-misses and miracles and the miraculous journey of life.

And now I'm from teaching my great-grandchildren about the miracles of the journey,just as I taught their parents, and their parents before them.

The blessing That is My Parents

Last week my self-loathing reached a high again. Again I was overwhelmed with everything there was to do and only me doing it. So, of course, the necessary changes around the house and yard come too slowly. I felt inadequate, insufficient, invalid. And angry. So angry! Until my rages were affecting my children. Until I was saying hateful, hurtful things. Until I couldn't function anymore. So, in tears, I called my Mom and asked if I could come to them. Was I worried I would treat them the same way? Of course. I also know they have thicker skin than my young adults.

So I've been at my parents' place. It hasn't all been sweetness and light. They bicker. Almost constantly. When I'm in a good place I can remind myself they've made this dynamic work for them for 60 years. When I'm not (and I'm not) I slide into my from-childhood attempts at peace-making. It's exhausting, unnecessary, and ineffective. Yesterday we were in my hometown. None of us has been there for about 25 years and we no longer know it well. It was easy to get turned around and wind up where you didn't wish to be. This frustrated my Dad, who got angry and loud; which in turn frustrated my Mom, who'd castigate him and give suggestions of how to get where we wanted to be in the same breath. I cringed in the back, occasionally putting in my opinion and wishing the noise would stop.

And texted Bill when I got in: "I should have just gone to hospital. There's no shelter from the storm here - there's just more storm."

Nonsense! Firstly, I never want to be in the psychiatric hospital again! Never. Secondly, since I've been an adult Mom and Dad have always been a safe haven for me. They just say, "Come ahead", and begrudge me nothing. I always leave with more than what I had when I arrived. They love me.

These are my parents. In two days, they'll celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. In a week is my Dad's 80th birthday. (He's three years older than Mom.) We're having an 80th birthday party for him on Saturday; kids, grandkids, and the great-grandbaby. Then a drop-in time for his sisters and brother, and his church family. 

I won't be here for Dad's actual birthday; I was here for Father's Day, though. I wanted to get a picture of us in our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes (we looked good!), and Mom's blood sugar dropped. She's an insulin-dependent, type 2 diabetic who didn't eat quite enough for breakfast. In our concern for her our picture was forgotten. There will be other opportunities, God willing.

Always a safe space. Everyone should have one.

What I wore

 

Tuesday, May 28, I was able to get cortisone shots in my poor, painful SI joints. Something comfortable and loose was in order. This outfit, given to me by my Mom, feel like pajamas. It's a bit big, even more of a plus for this occasion.

Normally, nautical/tropical/seashore is not my thing. And this is a very matchy-matchy garment (probably bought from QVC, knowing my mother). Yet it's comfortable; it will work wel as a bathing suit cover-up both at the gym and at the beach.

Mom felt it was too tight on her legs, which is why I ended up with it. I get other outfits for the same reason. Why doesn't she dress the body she has, rather than the one she used to have? You get used to buying a certain size and it becomes your default: you still see yourself in the mirror that younger size: hope springs eternal. What ever the reason, me and my girls are the lucky recipients of her hand-me-downs, 

I wore this to my therapist's appointment May 30th. It's actually a sleeveless, mock-wrap dress (wrap dresses are usually quite flattering on me, though this picture doesn't really reveal that).

I didn't feel in a good place at all that day; I dressed up hoping to improve my mood. You know, when you feel pretty, you're a little more confident, a little more loquacious, more inclined to smile. That day it was necessary.

The dress was purchased at Willow Tree Thrift Store in Monticello. All the proceeds from there go to their Domestic Violence Shelter. I believe the sweater came from ThredUp; an online consignment store. Fabulous site!

I've made a conscious decision, in the pursuit of frugality and sustainability, to ONLY buy pre-loved clothes. Helps our wallet - helps our planet ... win-win!

My husband once saw our daughter Monica in a lightweight, beige, swing-y skirt. She had paired it with a sky-blue, slim-fit tee and a pair of wedge sandals. Bill fell in love with the concept of that outfit. We've both been looking for pieces for me to make that look for over a year now.

The sandals came from Willow Tree; the tank from Goodwill. I don't shop at Goodwill often...more of their money goes to their CEO than to anything else. Sad. Yet sometimes between appointments I'll slink in there. It's been hard, though, to find a light-weight skirt with a twirl. Finally, ThredUp posted this beauty. I snapped it up.

The 6th of June I had an appointment with my bariatric nutritionist in Decatur followed by a date with Bill. Hence, "his" outfit for the first time. He approved.

There have, of course, been other outings. I'm still getting used to being in front of a camera. I don't do well either taking pictures or having my picture taken...and that leaves my children with no pictures of me. I'll be gone someday and a picture is all they'll have. They may as well actually have one, yes? May you leave a memory when you're gone.

Living the Good Life

 This Memorial Day weekend is a stay-home diy fest for us. After dropping beaucoup bucks to the plumber and the mechanic in the last three weeks, we discovered our toilet leaking. Maybe an easy fix, maybe not. Then yesterday, while we, the parental units, were heading home from Indiana, the son washing dishes to try to get the kitchen back to the way I left it used all the clean towels to stem the tide rushing out from under the sink. Needless to say, the kitchen in no way resembled the room I left!

Two leaks to deal with. I also have tomatoes, peppers, and strawberries waiting to be planted; a raised garden bed to assemble; a craft room to pull together (when the kids were little we had a centralized computer room. As they grew I thought I'd make that a craft/sewing room. Our dining room was smaller, well-lit, with not enough sturdy chairs to go around. Finally a lightbulb! We were able to procure a quite stable large dining table with eight wonderful chairs for $40 - WOW! The central room is now the dining room; the former dining room is now office/craft/sewing room. I am stoked!)

I also wish to put a bouquet on daughter Helen's grave...Monday we're committed to visiting Mom White to straighten her meds and her bank account. Busy, busy. I'd much rather be going camping, or at least a picnic. Sadly won't happen. Oh, a budget meeting has to be squeezed in there, too, since Friday was payday.

In other news, I've lost nearly 80 pounds. I am greatly enjoying playing around with a new (to me!) wardrobe. I think I'll begin a "What I Wore" feature in here. But not today. Strictly muck-about work clothes today, with a bandana on the head. I don't want to share that look!

In spite of the challenges, we're living the Good Life. Leaks mean we have running water. Gardening means we have access to fresh fruit and vegetables which many don't have. I'm organizing a craft room: we have a house large enough to have a room dedicated to creativity (we have a house!) and I have the leisure to pursue that creativity. Yes, I have a daughter in Heaven; and I know for a fact this innocent is in Heaven. Plus, I have 5 other young adults and we're blessed in that none have flown the nest yet. My mother-in-love has the beginning stages of dementia so that we need to provide some extra help; and we still have her. There's also a steady income and the determination to make the most of it. These are all benefits the vast majority of the world just don't have.

The Good Life, indeed. Hope your Memorial Day is more relaxing than ours!