Warning: This post may contain language unsuitable for small children and sensitive adults.
I'm pissed.
I'm pissed that Chris is dead.
I'm pissed that he barely got to know his kids and that they'll never know him.
I'm pissed that I have to make all the decisions now.
I'm pissed that I lost my gourmet cook, my gardener and my wine expert.
I'm pissed that I still have so many questions I want to ask him.
I'm pissed that he'll never beat me at Trivial Pursuit again (because he did every time).
I'm pissed that the only ones sharing my bed these days are a middle aged cat who snores and a clingy almost three year old.
I'm pissed that I don't have a hand to hold when watching a rented movie.
I'm pissed that I may go through the rest of this life without a partner.
I'm pissed that my mom is moving in with us (happy that she is willing to come but pissed that I need her to).
I'm pissed that I have to renovate a basement that wouldn't need renovating if Chris were alive.
I'm pissed that I don't have a clue about buying paint supplies for said renovation and the person who could advise me can't take phone calls where he is at.
I'm pissed that Chris is dead.
Did I mention that I'm....PISSED?!
Ahhhh...that feels better.
P.S. And isn't that an incredible likeness of me above?
Tomorrow is the Path to Progress walk/run to raise money for the American Brain Tumor Association. The event is held at Soldier Field and starts bright and early at 8:30 a.m. I will be volunteering at the event along with my sister, Julie, and her three oldest kids, Jimmy, Molly and Erin. We have to be there at 6:00 a.m. so I am especially grateful for their willingness to volunteer with me!
Keep your fingers crossed for a successful event!
If you know of one parent, just one, who claims to have a peaceful meal with a toddler, I urge you to demand proof. I need some concrete evidence that such a toddler--one who happily eats a balanced or even partially balanced or even more than three bites of a meal--actually exists.
You see, eating has always been an issue for Ian. When he was a newborn, he would leisurely alternate between nursing and snoozing at the trough....for an hour. I kept listening for the swallowing sounds you are supposed to hear to know that you are breastfeeding correctly. Never heard them. He rarely seemed very hungry and, as he got older, he would easily get distracted while nursing. In contrast, I could not only hear Claire swallowing when she started nursing in the hospital, I actually heard slurping and gulping. Girlfriend has yet to meet a meal she doesn't like (ribs anyone?).
When it was time for Ian to start baby food, I excitedly prepared his first bowl of oatmeal and watched in disappointment as he spit it back out. I know what you are thinking. That baby cereal does taste like cardboard. But I watched this same scene play itself out over and over again as I fed him pears, carrots, peas, applesauce, peaches, etc. It took him six weeks just to tolerate eating baby food. And then when it came to solid food....forget about it. He literally subsisted on Cheerios and milk (because dairy is the one food group he will eat) for weeks. And this has just gotten worse over time.
Now that he is a strong-willed two (almost three) year old, meals are just downright painful. On a daily basis, I hear some assortment of the following all interspersed with the oh so pleasant sounds of whining, crying and screaming:
"NO MEAT!! NO MEAT!! NO MEAT!!"
"NO FISH!! NO FISH!! NO FISH!!"
"NO FRUIT!! NO FRUIT!! NO FRUIT!!
"CHEESE STICK, MOMMY!! CHEESE STICK, MOMMY!!"
"GOLDFISH, MOMMY!! GOLDFISH, MOMMY!!"
"TEDDY GRAHAMS, MOMMY!! TEDDY GRAHAMS, MOMMY!!"
"NO EATING DINNER!! NO EATING DINNER!!"
"NO LIKING BROCCOLI!! NO LIKING BROCCOLI!!"
"NO WANTING SAMWICH!! NO WANTING SAMWICH!!"
Add to this mix the negotiating, the creative coercing (I actually claimed that Mickey Mouse made his meatloaf the other day to make it more appealing) and his frequent attempts at escaping from the table, and we have a recipe for the not-so-perfect meal. And to top this state of affairs off, the rules change quickly and without notice. Yesterday he loved hamburgers, today he won't touch them. Last week he hated sweet potatoes thereby prompting me to not buy any more. This week, guess what? A meltdown occurs when there are no sweet potatoes to be had. And this is why, more days than not, I'd rather sign up for a root canal than share another meal with my little darling.
I simply don't understand this whole phenomenon. To my detriment, I consider eating one of my favorite past times. Chris enjoyed many a good meal as well. So how did we wind up with this kid who considers two bites ("TINY bites, Mommy?) of a minuscule chicken nugget a full meal? Am I destined to fight with him at the dinner table for years on end? Will he ever be able to choke down items from each of the food groups in one sitting?
If you have any suggestions on how to solve this looming crisis, I beg of you to share. You can find Claire and I in the kitchen eating ice cream from the carton.
I stopped in Hallmark on Saturday to buy some Mothers Day cards and gifts. As I stood amongst the procrastinating dads scanning the quickly depleting selection of cards, I noticed that none of the inventory seemed to apply to me. Sure, there were the "Happy Mothers Day, Mommy!," "To My Daughter on Mothers Day," "To a Wonderful Sister and Mother" cards. But, not surprisingly, there weren't any cards that were addressed to ME. Not one category of cards "For the Young(ish) Mother Whose Young(ish) Husband Died." Damn...can't escape the feeling of being different (and alone and cheated) even on a day that I am fully entitled to celebrate. I mean, I did bear two children so why can't I just enjoy the day?
Because, that's why. Because the person who made it possible for me to be a mother--just when I was beginning to think I might not ever be one--is gone. Because I only got to celebrate one/uno/1 stinking Mothers Day as part of a complete family. Because I have now celebrated more Mothers Days as a mother without Chris than with him. Because I'll never know what kind of card Chris might have purchased for me this year. Would it have been a serious and sentimental one or a sarcastic and witty one? I know one thing. It would have been addressed to My Wife as opposed to My Widow. And that is the part I just can't get past today.
Today would have been Chris's 50th birthday. Ironically, it is also the first day of Brain Tumor Awareness Month.
Per the American Brain Tumor Association (ABTA), this month alone, more than 5,000 Americans will be diagnosed with a primary brain tumor; another 20,000 will learn that cancer in another part of the body has spread to the brain. All in all, there are more than 600,000 individuals living with a brain tumor diagnosis and its devastating impact on their physical, emotional, social and financial well-being.
This month, the ABTA is encouraging people to take a personal pledge to spread the word about brain tumors and the need for more research by going to this link. Why not take the pledge as a birthday present to Chris?
We will be celebrating today with a family mass at our house said by our former pastor, Fr. Carl Morello. Some of Chris's friends are also coming by tonight to celebrate. We are going to drink some of the good wine from Chris's wine collection and share stories about the man we all loved. Although this is not the way his birthday would have been commemorated if he were still alive, I know today will have moments of joy nonetheless.
This is us without you, Chris. Wish you were here for your big day.
P.S. Today is also the birthday of my sister, Julie. She has been one of my biggest sources of strength since Chris died. I couldn't ask for a better sister and I'm so glad she is in my life!
