Move

Cozy and warm and safe. That's what's important. Just a bit of a big deal change, with no washer/dryer, Internet, phone, dishwasher, all that jazz. No huge problem with most of that.(What kind of spoiled-brat baby would I be, if I was pissed off about not having a dishwasher?!  I should just be happy I'm not living in a cardboard box right now.) Well...I gotta say, a phone or Internet would be nice, because I feel pretty isolated. And the road is not one I want to drive up and down too many times in a day, if I can help it. Last night, I put the kids to bed, then I just kind of wandered around, sat down to read, got back up in five minutes, washed the counter (again), and then it's like seven steps across the whole apartment to my book again...finally decided to watch a video. Felt strange. Too quiet. But I'll get used to it, I guess.

Grampa was completely unresponsive for several days, but then perked up and spoke again yesterday, so that makes me feel better. I'm just having a little slump with all the changes and the move. I feel like I've spent 16 years on nothing, because now I'm in my "first apartment" without a cent to my name, just starting out.  Trying to find a job.  A flexible one so I can still be a good mom.  And that seems crazy at 34. Even if 34 IS the new 24, let me tell you: poor is NOT the new rich.

Snow Day

Lots of snow today, school was canceled, Zumba canceled, and the boys spent half the day clearing their little skating rink in the back yard...(which is only about 15 feet wide and unfortunately, from the way the knees of their snow pants smelled, probably a pretty high percent of frozen horse pee.) Anyway, they were happy, and very busy clearing and re clearing as the snow kept falling.

Hanging out at Jen's tonight, she just made awesome General Tso's Chicken, because she's a wicked nerd like that, I mean...she's a wicked good cook. Now the kids are jumping on Avry's Christmas trampoline that takes up the entire living room, and we're praying they don't barf General Tso's Chicken all over the place.

In keeping with my movie commentary: Right now, Jen is watching a movie called 'What Would Jesus Buy?' NOT a religious movie, despite the title, rather a sort of reality show/protest against consumerism. This group dresses up like a choir and plants themselves in malls, Disneyland, etc, and sing about "The Shopocolipse". I gotta say, it's pretty funny. But only if you aren't into buying stuff from China. If you like shopping a whole ton, you'd be seriously offended.

And now it's home and to bed. Tomorrow's another day off, since, snow or not, there's no school on Fridays. Taking the kids to hear an author they like speak at the library, and maybe Eli and I will have a skating date on Saturday, since he's really into that lately. Then there's a fun art opening on Sunday we'll go to. Seems like it'll be a good weekend, lots of time spent with my boys. And snow. There will be snow. Finally.

Movies Move Me.

My weekend off. (Sorry, this blog post is a few days behind, Internet has been down) Was still not easy to be away from the kids...I'm such a worry wart thinking about them, Gramp, bills, the whole time. Gotta learn to recharge my batteries better, take a rest when I can. Gramp is doing better, by the way. They've moved him out of intensive care and have the bleeding under control. Unfortunately, they don't think he'll regain the full use of his left side and he still can't even swallow on his own, but things are looking up. He was able to open his eyes for a bit the other day for the first time.

Had a couple weird things happen. One: I thought I was about to pass out from hypothermia at one point, outside yesterday. Other people were walking by, hatless and looking comfortable and here I was, barely able to keep moving, thinking it was 20 below zero. Thought I was going crazy. I've been battling anemia all fall and winter due to blood loss which led to an iron deficiency. (I won't go into it because it's gross, but I had a procedure done a while back to deal with the fact that I ALREADY was anemic from having a 14 day long period every 18 days...so I've spent the last four years (since childbirth) almost bleeding more often I'm not. That's not even the gross part, but I don't really feel like discussing my uterine walls here in my blog, much as I love to over share.) Funny thing is, I never really looked up anemia on-line or anything...it was just "Oh, you need more iron." Yesterday after nearly freezing to death, I was curious, and looked it up to find one of the symptoms was a below average body temp on occasion, so I really WAS freezing, not just losing my mind. Other symptoms were fatigue, depression, irritability, all those things that I've been feeling lately and writing off as simply not being able to cope with my situation. Anyhow, that was interesting. I should be at the tail end of it now. Hopefully just knowing that I'm not crazy will help.

So, second topic...I never talk about movies because honestly, I almost never watch them. At least not new ones. I don't have the time or inclination. But since the two people I hang out with the most are in the industry, I've tried to pay more attention to what's supposedly good, who's big right now, etc, etc. (This movie talk will evolve into the other weird thing about the weekend, if you're wondering.)

On Friday night, I saw 'We Bought A Zoo' with Russ. Here's the thing: Movie People everywhere may scoff at this movie, because technically, it's fluff. But you know, it wasn't nearly as silly and fluffy as I would have thought. Sweet and sincere without being TOO too cheesy. And very real, despite having to suspend your belief somewhat to accept that a widowed father and his two kids actually go nuts, buy a decrepit zoo and get it going again successfully. It was based on a true story and I liked it very much. The actors did a great job, I actually cared about them. The whole thing was done well, (if a tad sappy now and again) I'd recommend it. Then, I'm no movie critic, but Rusty liked it too, and he's seen everything there is to see.

Last night, John and I went to see 'Take Shelter', which everyone in the smartypants movie world has been raving about as WONDERFUL. I hated it. Maybe because it played on some of my biggest fears (complete with a middle-of-the-night scene of a wife freaking out over her husband's seizure) Basically, I wanted to run screaming from the theatre. Mix insanity with end-of-the-world-climate-disaster, and you get a movie that I HATE. Does it make you think? Uh huh. Does it drive home pressing environmental issues? For sure. Needless to say, I HATED it. I spent most of the movie with my scarf pulled up over my eyes. I don't find being terrified very fun anymore. Not that I ever did, but I could watch a good thriller with the best of them at one point. Now, having children, I can't handle them at all. I have no idea if John liked it or not because he was just stuck calming me down afterward. I can't deal with certain movies, but I guess he didn't have any idea. Whoops. I had to spring the fact that I have the wild imagination of a seven year old on him, AND the fact that I get totally traumatized by scary movies.

(As an aside, I just looked up both movies on a review board and EVERYONE is of the opposite opinion. Like I said, I'm no movie critic, I just happen to prefer sappy over scary.)

That was weird thing number two about my weekend: I had to talk about how many fears and anxieties I carry. I had to talk about nightmares. I had to describe my bed as being custom built, framed with no airspace underneath because I can't stand having a bed someone could get underneath of. I had to talk about one of my most pressing problems with this divorce is being alone and afraid at night. Yeah. How big and brave am I? As a little girl I was always the one being taunted and bodily dragged onto the roller coaster..."'Fraidy Cat!" I'm still that little girl. Usually, with a good diet and exercise, I have a decent handle on my anxieties, but with low iron, over tiredness, and a scary movie, I wasn't doing so well yesterday.

It's funny, you'd think I'd get this movie-thing from my mom, because she's where my anxiety stems from, but nope, it's 100% from my Dad. He gets completely upset during scary movies, cries if they are even halfway sad, laughs himself silly during funny scenes...we're easily sucked into the emotions of fictional characters, I think. Maybe it's from not having a TV growing up, I didn't get desensitized to all that stuff, but I've always had a hard time walking away from a movie and dismissing it from my head, one of the reasons that I'm not that into movies. Sometimes their lasting damage is too big a price to pay for a some empty entertainment. Basically, I know that, with my personality already leaning towards nervousness, it's better for me to avoid those triggers all together, and embrace the cheerful, not the creepy.

So the moral(s) of the story:

Don't get anemic if you can help it, because you're cold and cranky.

Don't get divorced if you can help it, because you're cold and cranky.

Don't watch 'Take Shelter' if you can help it. Watch 'We Bought A Zoo' instead.

Don't go out with the two biggest movie lovers you know if you can help it, especially when you aren't really into movies. Or do, but figure out alternative activities, like lively conversation, cocoa drinking, loud radio sing-alongs, Christmas tree cutting and watching happy little chipmunks scurry around.

Go with warm and fuzzy vs cold and cranky.

There's both my movie review and life lesson for the week. Take it or leave it.

GrampaGrampaGrampaGrampaGrampa

I've gotten criticism in the past for sharing too much. "Emily, why do you write those things? For anyone to read?" Because I must. It's who I am. Occasionally, my raw feelings poured out in words (that, granted, aren't always very carefully chosen or eloquent) may make people feel uncomfortable. Also, I'm sure I act like I'm self-righteously mouthing off half the time. Sorry. I figure we're all ultimately the same though. Exposing emotions connects me to you, connects me to EVERY person, and when I start feeling isolated, I just need to write. That's that. My post today probably appears to be the provincial topic of a high school essay, I apologize. Not able to be well-spoken right now, just simple and plain, and it will have to do.

If someone asked me to name off my top five favorite people in the whole world...I'd have a pretty difficult time doing it. But one person I wouldn't question would be my Grampa (Yes, I realize normal people spell it 'Grandpa'. I don't.) Avery. And I believe anyone that knows him would say the same. Because there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. Nothing. He'll take you fly fishing on a moment's notice. He'll drop all his plans to watch you dance. He'll show you how to tie knots, dig potatoes, make a kazoo out of a comb and some wax paper. He'll go with you down the Giant Slide at the fair, if you're afraid to go alone. He'll make you popcorn and watch the Disney Sunday Movie with you. He'll teach you to drive. He'll be patient and kind and encouraging. He'll never let you down. I know I've written about him before, how his hugs have always meant the world to me. Today when I hugged him, it still did, it meant the world, only he couldn't hug me back. That was hard.

Stroke...brain bleed...we don't understand exactly what all that means yet, but I'm guessing it's pretty serious since every auntie has flown in. I keep saying "WHY? He's so healthy...compared to most people his age." It's never occurred to me that he's old, not when I watch him playing Lincoln Logs with my boys, not when I see him telling a familiar tale, his hands gesturing wildly, or waltzing with Gram, not when he climbs to the top of the slide with a burlap sack in one hand, and yours in the other.

Maybe it's his time. Maybe it really IS, right out of the blue, like he would have probably wished for. I've got to think about that and figure out if I can be OK with it, but you know, it doesn't matter if I am or not...I don't have a say here, really. The fact that I'm NOT OK with it matters not one iota. So, I WILL be OK. What other choice is there? End of story. I'll be wicked sad. Far sadder than I've ever been before. Or he'll rally, and I won't yet.

At my aunt Deb's the other night, for my cousin Lilly's birthday, he hugged me so tight, he nearly squeezed the air out of me, with his prickly chin roughing up my cheek the way he does. And we love it. He holds on, makes you feel precious, cherished, it's not just a hug-let go thing, it's a hug, hold, hold, hold, "I love you. You know how special you kids are? Gosh, we sure do love you kids. Love those little duffers of yours, look at 'em! Jeezum! Don't they grow though? You're doing such a good job Emmy. Nobody could say you're not. Gramp's real proud of you." It's a whole lotta love, and pride, and a pep talk wrapped up in one massive hug. See, if I turn out alright, THIS will be why I'm a decent human being. With family like that, I can't fail, and I'm glad, glad, glad to have them. I can be brave because I've got them to back me up.

Wish I could have known the other night, if it'd be the last time I snapped his suspenders, as I passed by. Wish I could have recorded his chuckle. Only...I kinda did, I guess, because when I think about it, I can hear him.

When fair time rolls around, I'm going down the Giant Slide. Maybe Gramp will come with me. Maybe he won't. But either way, I'm doing it.