visit me at my new blog...

www.irishlullabye.blogspot.com.   

There are pictures there!!!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17557841/?GT1=9145

And I have no idea how to feel.  I wasn't especially close to her.  She wasn't a particularly describable woman.  Beautiful, yes.  Vain.  Definitely.  Outspoken.  Oh yeah. Hurtful.  At times. Sad. Recently.  Lonely.  More than I care to think about.

I woke up this morning and knew she was going to die.  I knew it because last night I watched The Quiet Man, which was on for no reason (afterall it wasn't St. Pat's Day when it is usually shown) and it was her favorite movie.  I also knew it was the 13th and 13 was a significant number for her. My grandfather's birthday was February 13th.  Their anniversary was April 13th. So I was surprised when Mike came in the bathroom during my shower and told me at 9:30 that she died a half an hour before.  Alone in the hospital. I went Tuesday to see her. It was the first time I have seen her since May.  She was failing fast.  It's amazing what happens when you are dying. You become like an infant, except the worst part is that unlike an infant, you are acutely aware of what is going wrong.  There is no dignity in death. You are reduced to an ignored patient, a nuisance to the nurses, someone who lies in your own excrement waiting for someone to remove it while you just wish God would take you from your pain.  I can only hope that when my number is up, I am on a plane coming back from a beautiful vacation.  Sudden.  Instantaneous. Dignified.

Everyone keeps telling me how sorry they are about my grandmother and it gives me the heebie jeebies.  I feel like an imposter.  I wasn't close to her.  I hardly called her.  I hardly visited her.  I was a terrible granddaughter. I knew this day would come all too soon and that I would feel as terrible about myself as I do right now. I should have done more.  I should have visited more.  I should have cared more.  I feel terribly guilty today.  I feel like my heart is made of stone. My sister called me and said "Have you spent the day crying, too?".  I was like "Um, no, I haven't.  Am I supposed to ?".  It just feels that I don't have a right to carry on like I was a treasured family member. Or that she was.  

My grandmother wasn't the easiest person in the world.  She complained alot. I bought my father a silly statue last year that said "The older she gets, the more Irish she becomes." That sizes her up. She complained constantly about her health, even when it wasn't bad.  She liked to ask me how my diet was going.  Every. single. time. she. talked. to. me.  I often thought that she felt that my big ass was a bad reflection on her.  I overheard her whispering to my late great aunt at my baby shower "Suzie has always been a BIGGGGGG girl".  I went home and cried.

The truth is, she was hard to talk to.  Hard to visit.  I dreaded every phone call.  Every visit.  Mike and I were having a fight one day and she called in the middle of it.  I heard him say "Sure Grandma, Suzie is right here.  She would love to talk to you". I gave him the finger for the next half hour as I heard all about her latest medical ailment. The last time she called was for my anniversary.  D* aniel picked up the phone.  Mike and I generally dive on top of him when we see the number on the caller ID to keep this from happening.  But I am so glad he got there first.  I told her that I was planning to come down with the kids 2 days later. 2 days later she entered the hospital and never came home.   

Tonight we were sitting in the middle of dinner and D*aniel asked if I saw her before she died.  I told him yes, I did on Tuesday.  He looked me straight in the eyes and said "You should have brought me to see McMary (that's what the great grandkids called her)  Tuesday.  Now I have to wait till I go to God to see her".  And you know what, he was fucking right.  I should have brought her great grandkids to see her.  At the very least she deserved to see them before she died. But I didn't want to be bothered. Out of the mouths of babes, I guess.

Right now I am thinking alot about when I was a kid and we used to spend weeks in the summer at her house.  My grandfather was a retired NYC homocide detective.  He was larger than life.  He was so handsome.  And she was so beautiful.  She looked like Maureen O'Hara.  He looked like John Wayne. Maybe that is why they loved The Quiet Man so much.  She used to play checkers with me and took us to the town pool, which they only belonged to for the sake of us kids. My grandfather, in his sixties, used to jump from the high board at the pool.  He was a beautiful diver.  He was an excellent swimmer. This is the way I like to remember him.  Young.  Athletic.  Strong.  And my grandmother...I'll remember sitting on her front porch, collecting fireflies and watching the fireworks.  I'll remember going to Friendly's for an ice cream or that time 9 years ago when we went for Pizza together when my grandfather was in the hospital.  She was taking cabs to the hospital.  It made me sad.  I drove down to NY (they lived in Westchester County) to take her to the hospital so she wouldn't have to take a cab. Old people shouldn't have to take cabs.    

I need to end this post right now because for the first time since I heard the news, I am crying.  All of this nostalgia has made me wish that I could just get one more of her annoying phone calls, hear her call me Suzie Bella Jane, smell her Chantilly perfume.

The good thing about starting a new job is that I am taking next week off to do some super important things.  You know, like get my hair foiled, organize my clothes, get my kids on a better sleep routine.  But the most important thing I will do is on Monday.  Monday is Mister day.

Monday we have Dentist appointments at 11:30.  So at 8:30, we'll drop off the sister at daycare. Then I assume we will go for a bagel at this great place on the green, people watch.  Chocolate milk and a Cinnamon raisin bagel for the boy, tea and an everything bagel for me.  The mister will bring a book, probably about fire trucks or trains or construction equiptment, and I will read the Register.  We'll talk and laugh and I can guarantee that within minutes of arrival, the other customers will be capitvated by the tiny boy who says things like "Well, to tell you the truth, Mommy, I don't actually particularly care for that kind of bagel".  He'll get up every few minutes to open the door for an arriving customer and greet them with a heart "Good Morning.  My name is D*aniel.  What's your name?"  He does stuff like that.  He's a people person.  When he answers the phone he says things like "Hello, D*aniel here." or "McDermott Relatives (he prefers that to residence), D*aniel speaking".  It melts my heart.    Then, we'll head to the dentists and after that, the day is all his.

We'll do whatever he wants to do, my boy and me.  I'm sure he'll want to ride his fire truck.  Yesterday afternoon, he had me be his driving instructor.  I had to do a checklist and grade him as if I were giving him his driving test.  That was the fun part of going home early from work to take care of his sick sister and her poopy butt.  I'm sure he'll want to go for a hike in the trails near our house.  I'm sure he'll want to go to the train station and watch the trains arrive for an hour or so. He likes trains.  Mostly he likes to watch the people that ride trains.  Talk to them.  Ask them where they are coming from, what they were doing there. I'll bet he'll want to help me make dinner.  He is as in love with my kitchen aid and my food processor as I am.  He likes to help me measure and grate and pour.  He's pretty proud of what we create in the kitchen.  Who knows, he'll probably be a chef someday.  Or maybe a doctor.  He likes to wear his doctor costume.  Sometimes even out in public.  Last night he wore his fire boots, his police uniform and Daddy's dress Coast Guard hat to get his hair cut and go to the grocery store.  He likes to act like whatever character he is playing at the time.  He goes into this zone where you can't bring him into reality.  Maybe he'll win an Oscar some day.  He sure loves to perform.  Tomorrow I am sure he'll want to stop by the fire department.  He's a regular there.  Or maybe the police department.  He flagged down a cop in our neighborhood and made him stop a month ago so that he could check out his cop car. Officer Dan was the cops name.  And he told D*aniel that he could call him some time (he gave him his card) and get a tour of the police station.  He was here an hour.   He loves to sing.  And loves to hear music.  His school is in church.  Orchestras practices there.  D*aniel gets to go listen to the orchestra practice every week, depending on his behavior.  He is the only kid who has interest in hearing a string quartet or a woodwinds section practice. He'll sit still and watch carefully, until he is given an opportunity to ask questions.  And then he'll never stop asking them.  This a kid who I never have to worry about hitting other kdis or hurting anyone's feelings.  His heart is just pure...his spirit is just magical. He understands the concept of empathy and friendship and loyalty and he isn't even five. I am awestruck by his wise old soul.

How did I get so lucky to have a baby like him?  I tell him when I lie down to sleep with him that he is the best thing that ever happened to me because he made me a Mommy.  if it wasn't for him, I'd have never gotten the chance to become a mom to him and his sister. And then I tell him that I am so glad that he is mine. Because I am. Sure there are kids that are alot easier, alot less of a challenge.  A ton mroe compliant.  Ones who listen eagerly and don't fight you everytime you attempt to change their clothing or brush their teeth.  Ones who won't fight you on bedtime for 2 hours or get sent home with notes from school referencing their "colorful" language. But as hard as it can be sometimes, I would not trade this kid for the world.  Because as hard as it is to admit it, this child, this spirited being, this indigo baby, is almost exactly like his Mama. 

So, on Monday, the day is all about D*aniel.  No laundry, no house cleaning...just D*aniel...doing exactly what Daniel wants when he wants to do it..........................

And I cannot wait.  For Monday....for the coming year, for every single year of his life. I cannot wait to see what he becomes, who he becomes, what impact he has on the world around him.  I know in my heart of hearts, that whatever road life takes him on will be one that leaves me immensely proud of him.

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=1d26d4385ccd2473275c76&skin_id=0&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

  and yes Carrie...that is the one..

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmVU08zVpA

Do not click on this if you are easily offended or if you are at work in an open space. 

Seriously.  This is offensive than any hand gesture...But Oh My Goodness...I cannot stop laughing.  Seriously.  I have watched it probably 10 times.  My husband finds it totally not funny, but me...I am HOWLING.

I am so mad Emily does have net access for 10 days...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmRvzXXN4aU

Oddly, I have developed a crush on JT now...

The Girl's 2nd Birthday party was about a month ago.  I was already feeling sort of melancholy and sad about it and I have to say, I was a little disappointed in some of the people in our lives the day of the party.  I really try to live my life keeping in mind that I can't expect other people to live by my standards.  But I guess when it comes to your kids, you get  a little more emotional than you would normally conduct yourself.

I was a little sad that some people that are dear to me couldn't be at the party for one reason or another. I know that to them, it was just another kids party.  But to me, it was the anniversary of the day that the 2nd brightest light in my life entered our world, forever changing the dynamic of our family and bringing us unspeakable joy. December 2, 2004 was the day that we went from a family of 3 to a completed family of 4, the day that Mike and I had our last child, a daughter.  A whole new journey for us.  I'm sure to the casual observer, it was just another winter day.  But to us, especially to me, it is one of the few days in my life that changed my life in ways I never imagined possible.

Her first birthday was a flurry of activity, one in which I ran around like crazy, trying to get everything done and perfect.  As in most families, the Mama is not only the chief party planner and hostess, but also the lead photographer.  In all of the festivities and all of the responsibilties that go along with having a party, I was not able to get pictures of everything.  Unfortunately, neither did anyone else.  There is no photographic record of my daughter smashing into her first birthday cake and I am beyond sad about.  I have spent a year asking everyone in attendance if they have a picture of this momentous occasion. No one does. I vowed that for her 2nd birthday, come hell or high water, I was getting a picture of her with her cake, damn making coffee or getting desserts out.  If I couldn't be sure that someone would record this for me, I was going to make damned sure that it was done. Unfortunately, we never got to her cake at her 2nd birthday party.

Her party started at 1:00.  By 3:00, most of Mike's side of the family had failed to show up.  I had waited to put out the food until they got there and then finally gave in to the idea that they were simply no shows and put everything out (apps were out before, but this was the main meal piece that I was waiting for late arrivals for).  Mike's family finally arrived at about 3:30.  The birthday girl had fallen asleep in her high chair by this point, 2 hours away from her nap time.  Again, no pictures with the birthday cake for me.  I steeled myself from flipping out when I heard his family members talking about the reason for the delay being that that were Christmas shopping. Instead of getting confrontational, I went into the guest bathroom and proceeded to cry my eyes out.  I don't know if it was the lack of cake pictures or simply the lack of care about the importance of this day by the late arrivals and no shows that made me start sobbing.  All I know is that it took me 10 minutes to get out of the bathroom before I felt like I could control my emotions enough to be polite and cordial.  

We had the Girl's Birthday Party a week before her actual birthday.  Her actual birthday was spent at Socks Over Jean's Girls son's 1st Birthday party, a decision we had made a year ago on December 1st, 2005 when he was born.  I know how important a first birthday is and I wanted to make sure that SOJG got the pick of days for her son, born 364 days after my girl.  So, we went to Jack's party, The Girl and I. 

After we sang Happy Birthday to Jack, out of nowhere SOJG appears with a pretty cake and makes an annoucement that today is another special little girl's birthday and could everyone sing Happy Birthday to Miss Car*oline.  I didn't even realize it until after, but the tears were streaming down my face, as they are right now as I type this.  I am sure I looked ridiculous, like an oversentimental mom on her kid's second birthday, but that wasn't it at all.  No one has ever done anything this thoughtful for me in my life.

I say thoughtful for ME, rather than for my Girl because SOJG just got it.  She knew how sad I was at The Girl's party and how disappointed I was by the people I care about.  In purchasing that little Custard filled birthday cake for my sweet girl, she really restored my faith in my friendships and relationships.  She let me know how much she cared about me and my little girl and never in my life have I ever felt as cherished as a friend as I did on that day.  I know it probably doesn't seem like such a big deal to you all, but it was huge to me.  

So, I did get to get pictures of my little girl with her cake on her 2nd birthday after all.  And all because I had the good sense to pass the girl with the big Aquanet sprayed hair (only in the front, for some reason, SOJG never did the back of her hair...ATTRACTIVE) in Mrs. Nagle's English class a note in 1987 asking if she was going to the big party that weekend.