Hoping

Dear Seasons:
See this? I need some. Badly.

I'm starting to forget what it looks like, because I haven't seen it since October.

I'd also really like some of these. They're colorful, nice-smelling, and make me want to go outside and wander around aimlessly.

I even understand that to get these, I'm going to have to put up with a lot of this:

and I'm okay with that. I accept the natural order of things, and have no issue with the transitions between seasons.

I just really, really need to be done with this:

Thank you.

Love,

Me

Thank You

I woke up Brooklyn last night.

I was laughing so hard, so uproariously, in the living room that she stumbled out-bleary eyed-and smiled at me before she climbed into my lap.

I finished watching what I was watching, and ushered her back to bed.

I'm watching it again today-you guys should too. It rocked my world.

Jimmy Fallon says Thank You

Big Brother

I've been trying to get Jeremy into a Big Brother relationship for a while now. I printed off the paperwork months ago, filled it all out, and mailed it in. I received a call from somebody at the office a few days later informing me rather tersely that I had sent the forms to the wrong office for my county. She said I had to call back and get the new address so I could print out new forms and mail them off again. Apparently she was completely unable to forward my already completed form on to the right office-but whatever.

Of course, then life got in the way for a while, and I kept forgetting to re-do the forms. Honestly, I was a bit turned off by the somewhat nasty message left on my answering machine from the organization, but a couple weeks ago I mustered up the gumption to re-do the paperwork, print it out again, and bring it upstairs. It sat in my kitchen-taunting me. Today I finally sat down-forms in hand-to call the office and insure I had the appropriate address to send the paperwork to.

Another woman answered the phone and I said brightly: "Hi! I'm interested in getting at least one of my son's enrolled in your program...."

Before I could finish, she interrupted me: "We're not accepting boys right now."

"You're not?" I asked, incredulous.

"No, our waiting list is too long." she curtly replied.

"Um.....okay? Is there no other organization that could help me?" I ventured, a bit put-out.

"There is a larger office in town, but they're only taking boys who have a father that is incarcerated."

Long pause.

"You're kidding me. A father who is dead doesn't count?" I asked, completely incredulous and extremely irritated.

"No, only incarcerated fathers. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked in a fake attempt at being helpful.

I was beyond irritated at this point. I tersely replied "No. That just seems incredibly backward. But whatever". And I hung up.

Here's the website: Big Brothers/Big Sisters of Cincinnati. You find this as backward and outlandish as I do? Give them a call. Write a letter. DO something.

I have friends that have been involved with BB/BS in the past-as mentors. I know the program is not meant to run this way. I'm disgusted that in my own city, this is the treatment that a TEXTBOOK CASE of a boy who needs mentoring is given.

If this bothers you, write a letter.

I know I will be.

Update:
After a suggestion on Facebook and some encouraging from a friend, I decided to contact a local news station. I spoke to a woman who promised to do some further research and get back to me. I'll keep you posted if it turns into anything-but she seemed as shocked and flabbergasted with the information as I had, so I'm hopeful.

Doctors

I hate waiting for doctors to call me back.

I still haven't heard anything from the doctor about the x-rays that Brooklyn had done last week, even though I've hounded them nearly every day. Yesterday afternoon I called and found out that the people from Radiology at the site we went to hadn't even faxed the results of her x-rays to our pediatrician. I'm beyond annoyed-and left a message for the radiology department saying as much. I left them alone today, but I'm going to call again tomorrow and demand some answers. It's been almost a week people, this is a little bit ridiculous.

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For the last 2 nights I have actually gone to bed at a decent hour. The schoolwork seems to be letting up a bit for now-must be the calm before the storm. Finals are in about 3 weeks, so now we're in 'cram it all' mode where the professors scramble to get all the information in our heads before the quarter ends. It's always this point in the quarter where I start to get extremely weary and feel like I'm hanging on-white knuckled-just waiting for the ride to be over. I can't wait for spring break.

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Last night I took the boys to a grief group that we attended very briefly the spring that Ammon died. It's a group geared specifically toward children aged 3-18, which means I have to find a babysitter for Brooklyn while we attend the sessions two times a month. The boys seemed pleased with it when we went almost 2 years ago, but I found it horrifically overwhelming and quickly made excuses to myself for never going back.

Fast forward to now, and the kids are all struggling in their own ways with our still new 'normal'. Kadon has developed a temper that is flash-fire and intense. I'm not sure how much of it is related to age, temperament, or grief-but I feel like it's important to explore every opportunity and avenue available to us to get the problem resolved. I don't expect miracles overnight, so I know we need to commit to attending this group for at least the foreseeable future before anything good will happen. We're blessed to have an amazing group of friends who are willing to help make this possible, which is a major incentive. Last night neither one of them had much to say other than 'it was fun', and 'Can we go back', but I wasn't expecting much more than that. For now, I'm satisfied to be moving in the right direction to deal with their ever-changing grief cycles.

In my Dreams

I know I'm over winter when I start dreaming about spring.

Last night I dreamed that I was standing outside-the sun was shining, there was a bit of chill in the air, and I was standing next to a bush.

I stood next to it and stooped to look at the branches.

There were small, green buds on each and every branch of that bush.

Y'all, I could have danced around. You'd think it was Christmas and I'd just received a new car.

THAT is how tired I am of winter. It's even creeping over into my DREAMS.

Potty Talk

The final days of diapering have arrived in the Fellows household. Brooklyn has been ready for this milestone much longer than I have-she had pottied for everybody-daycare, YMCA, family, and friends-before she finally pottied for me and I was forced to face the truth. Diapers, in many ways, are easier than being potty trained. If she needs to go during a trip to the grocery store, no biggie if she's in a diaper. Suddenly, the small porcelain appliance has become central to my existence. Where is the closest one located? When was the last time she went? Do I have spare clothes? Did I remember to ask her if she needs to go?

We started training about a week ago, and so far it's gone pretty well. People that have been friends with me for many years will shake their head in disgust to hear that. Cosmically and karmically, I'm due for a tough-to-potty-train child. The boys were easy-they both trained earlier than many of their peers, and with very little fuss. There was a minimum of accidents, and after the first couple of days staying home and near a toilet, the process was pretty much complete. I had prepared myself for Brooklyn to be much more complicated even though technically and generally speaking girls are supposed to be easier. Fortunately, it didn't turn out that way. Other than the fact that for the first 6 days of training she refused to make any contributions other than the liquid variety, her training has gone well. Tonight she finally made a solid deposit, so I suppose the next hurdle to clear is consistently staying dry while she sleeps. I'm of the 'panties during nap, diaper at night' mentality, so that makes things a bit easier.

I must admit, though, one plus to potty training her: the darn little girl panties. I'm used to boy underwear. I'm used to Spiderman, Batman, and Thomas the Train floating through my washing machine. Wide waistbands, the fold over pocket in the front-utilitarian underwear. Little girl panties are another story entirely. They are pink, they are frilly. They have lace, flowers, and pretty designs. They have tiny little waistbands, with sparkles sewn into the elastic. They are all my favorite colors. Combine little girl panties and fill them with a little girl behind-and I'm nearly overcome with the cuteness of it all. I suppose that even though the porcelain statue has become central in my existence for a time, the cuteness of the bum will make up for it.

Getting it Out

I've got some thoughts rolling around in my head, and I need to get them out. Maybe this will become an actual blog post, maybe it won't. It's a quiet Saturday afternoon, and while I have a few semi-quiet moments to think, I need to sort through some things.

As I said in my last post, Brooklyn has been a bit preoccupied with the concept of 'Daddy' lately. She has asked for Daddy a few times when she's been frustrated, and has begun pointing at random men and asking "Daddy?"

"No, not Daddy." I always assure her.

Brooklyn knows Ammon through pictures. She really has no concept of what a Daddy does, what it means, or what he could provide for her. I think she's starting to realize that this concept of 'Daddy' as a male figure is something that other kids have and she doesn't. I don't think that i bothers her, really, other than she is starting to become aware of the difference. This has been a milestone that I have known was coming, but I didn't expect it so soon.

When Ammon died, the boys had a solid concept of who he was, what having him in our family meant, and most of all-what they had lost. From there it was left up to me to explain the concept of death to a 3 year old and a 5 year old. It was difficult, but at least I had a baseline to work with-they knew who daddy was. He was here, now he's not. He was nice, he was fun, he loved me-we miss him.

Brooklyn has no baseline. She has no idea of who daddy is or what it means to have one. How do I even explain this to her? How do I make her understand something that she has never had, when she is still struggling to understand the idea of toilet training? Her speech and comprehension are blossoming, but these are two concepts that she's not ready to understand. In some ways-and I know many people probably won't understand this-I don't want to explain to her who daddy is. See, if she has a full idea of what it means to have a man who loves her, plays with her, and shares our lives, then she'll know what she's missing. If I gloss over the daddy idea, but don't go into details, she doesn't hurt. No daddy is her normal-I don't want to shatter that. I don't want to make him real for her, show her how much he loved her, make her understand how our lives would be different if he had lived-and then rip it all away by having to explain death to her. She's too little. I'm not equipped to deal with this. I knew grief would be delayed for her. I knew she would experience all the stages as she got older and comprehension dawned, but I thought I had more time.

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Dating. Dating has been on my mind a lot lately. I posted here some months ago about being 'ready' to date-whatever that means. I've dated some since then, but not a lot-and nothing really successful. I've tried to force myself out into the Mormon single adult scene-and the scenery leaves much to be desired. I've ventured into the online dating world, and 'met' some very nice individuals, but nobody that sparks my interest or makes me want to go any further than an occasional email. In all of this, I've done a lot of thinking. What is wrong with being single? Other than the occasional fiercely painful bouts of loneliness, I have pretty much accepted my lot in life. I'm lonely-of course I am. I wish Ammon were here, but he's not. I wish I had somebody to share my life with, but I don't. And here's the thing-I have worked so hard at being self-sufficient, at creating a life for me and the kids, at healing, at grieving, at learning to live again-and I'm very, very good at it. I HAVE grieved, and I AM healing. But because I've been so efficient at it, I'm starting to wonder if I've left room in my life for anybody else to be a part of it.

Being in a relationship or a marriage takes a lot of compromise. It takes time, energy, effort, and thought. It's not easy to constantly take the feelings and preferences of another human being into account at all times. I was one type of woman when I was married to Ammon, and now I'm not that woman anymore-I've become a different Victoria entirely, and I'm not even sure at this point how Ammon would fit back into my life. Oh sure, I'd make room for him. I'd alter, he'd change, and we'd choose to mesh again. Somebody else? I don't know. I've built a life for our family-a full, happy, productive, and bursting-at-the-seams-with-activity kind of life. I honestly don't know if I'm ready to give up any part of that to settle down with somebody else.

As difficult as they've been to find-and I've spent a long time searching-there are perks to being single. I get to do whatever I want with my time. My weekends are my own, my money is mine to spend, vacations are up to me entirely. Dinner is my choice every single night. Don't feel like cooking? Pizza it is. Don't feel like doing this dishes? They can sit in the sink. Want to stay up until 2 am chatting on Facebook? No problem. And there are bigger things-things that I couldn't even explain to somebody who hasn't walked this path before. I'm lonely now-but the opportunity for somebody else to hurt me, to leave me-it's not here. I wonder if it's my defense mechanism. If I never let anybody else in, if I never fall in love again, then nobody else can die and break my heart again. If I keep my soul intact and hold it close to myself, it can't be ripped apart again.

Don't get me wrong-I know firsthand how good it feels to let that compromise in, to let my heart open, and to share my soul. I get it. I did all of that with Ammon, and they were the happiest and most fulfilling years of my life to date. This life, however, is fulfilling in a different way. I like to think that I'm not emotionally closed off. I still love my kids fiercely, and I'm a pretty open book when it comes to my friends-especially those that I have come to share this widowed path with. I also like to think that for all my blustering about the perks of being single, I'm open to the idea of changing it. After Ammon died I thought I had a good idea of what kind of man I was intent on finding. Now those boundaries are pretty fuzzy. There are still character points that are indisputable, but for the most part the rest of him is a fuzzy image I can't quiet wrap my eyes around. I don't know if he's a figment of my imagination or a premise of things to come, but I'm trying to accept things either way.

I've been told I'm too young to accept being single for the rest of my life, and maybe I am. I don't look too far in the future these days-the next couple of years is plenty to keep me occupied. I have a 3 year plan-I know that I want to graduate in 2013, and I know where ideally I would like to transplant my family when my degree is complete. It's a loosely formed structure, but it works for now. It gives me direction, it gives me a starting point, and I guess I'll figure out the rest as I go along. I don't see myself growing old alone, but maybe this season is one I will spend in a solitary fashion. Going to school, raising my family-maybe I wasn't meant to share those things with somebody else. Maybe once all those things are passed and I have a more flexible life somebody else will fit in easier. Maybe not.

I'm not going to lie-it's scary, it's lonely, and it's frustrating. I started to type that I'd give every bit of this new life up to have Ammon back-but halfway through the sentence I realized that's a lie. That realization, in this moment, takes my breath away. What wouldn't I give up? My strength. My self-reliance. My education. My new friends. In losing Ammon, I have gained these things. I'm sitting here, staring at the computer screen asking myself: if I had the chance to get Ammon back, but I had to go back to being that girl, would I? Would I choose to keep this life, and live it without him-willingly?

Wow. I don't know.

What a realization a few minutes of typing will find for you.

Maybe it's the fact that I know-with every fiber of my being-that he is waiting for me. Choosing to live this mortal life without him only delays our union in the hereafter. If I can learn such amazing things in this life-but can do so only without him by my side....is it worth it? I'm so grateful that I had the chance to know him. To love him. To be his wife, and the mother to his children. He formed the woman that I am today in every way. He formed me by loving me, and then by leaving me. His presence or lack thereof has formed and shaped every facet of who I am, and who I will remain for the rest of my life. No, Ammon is not gone. I am not without him-we are woven too tightly together to ever be separated. Maybe it is for that reason that at least in this moment, I think I might have the strength to accept the trade off and choose mortality without him. Maybe this is a glimpse of the moment when we made the agreement to come to this earth and accept our fate. I've believed for a long time, sometimes begrudgingly, that Ammon and I sat down together in the life we had before we came to earth. We reviewed the options, and we considered seriously what we were being asked to do. I believe we knew-our heavenly, eternal selves-that we would be separated in this life prematurely. I think we knew the pros and cons, and weighed them carefully before agreeing to come here and go through with the plan.

I think we knew how much it would cost. It would hurt. We would suffer.

I think we also knew what we stood to gain. To learn. To endure.

I think we chose this.

Wow. Maybe that realization is why I needed to sit and sort today.