All In The Family
I hit the ground running on stress and caffeine this morning and I really don't have much to show for it ten hours later, though I did sort through about a year's worth of mostly unreturned phone messages. The last several weeks I feel like I've been running a gunny sack race through a molasses filled obstacle course. With a blindfold on. And some sideline hecklers.
My Grandmother is still giving me and other family members the run around on the whole estate planning thing. She's bordering on incapacitated and there is still no will. Not to mention the fact that's all we've been focused on -- not much time for the passing down of family lore and wisdom that I had hoped for. I really don't want my last memories of my Grandmother to be tainted with frustration and resentment. There is some weird shit going on in my family and I feel like an innocent bystander. I have very little to gain beyond the satisfaction of a job well done and the knowledge that things are being handled properly. You'd think they'd feel lucky to have someone reasonably competent and experienced willing to take this on, but no. That would just be too easy.
Another example of thwartedness: I spent a good chunk of time last week creating party invites for H's birthday that I ultimately had to scrap because of a design flaw. Besides that I hated the way they looked. The next day I went to Paper Zone, where my favorite sales clerk/craft guru helped me upgrade my paper choices and refine my design a bit. Then I set to the task of making them all over again (much better, very cute, but perhaps too sedate for a 4th birthday), digging up addresses and sending them off. Two days later I got the first one back in the mail. I had stamped my return address on the back of the envelope and when I put on the stamps I placed them to the left instead of the right -- nobody noticed! I guess that's what God invented the internets for -- I'll have to e-mail everyone tonight and make sure they know the scoop. Some people think I go to extreme lengths for H's birthday (more about that later) but look -- I'm not much of a cook or a seamstress, I don't knit or vigilantly scrapbook (I do keep a file labeled "Scrapbook") so I feel the least I can do is go all out at what I'm best at and that usually involves themes, decor, paper, ink and snacks.
Last week I found out that H's honorary Grandparents would be out of town the weekend of the party, and then yesterday their daughter who is one of my closest friends and whom I had made a date with weeks ago to bake a cake the day before (as per our annual tradition), announced that she and her husband were headed out of town as well, as they had a chance for a free get away before their baby is due (almost three months from now). I shrugged it off at the time but I have to admit that I am really hurt. I'm doing a lot for this friend right now -- giving her most of my fanciest hand-me-downs, helping her decorate the baby's room, and co-hostessing her shower. The truth is that if it was a priority they would find another weekend and another way. They are not hurting, just in a 1st baby frenzy.
I know I might sound like a big baby myself to some of you, but this is the one time of year that I really need to draw my friends close around me. As much as I love my kid and embrace our fate (note the lower case f)and want to celebrate his birth, there is an undercurrent of dread, a tightening in my chest, a feeling of being hurtled toward something I'm terrified of every year. H's birth was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. It's the day he almost died and the day we began a harrowing yet hopeful adventure that has no end in sight.
Anniversaries seem to open up psychic portals in the space-time continuum that rarely manifest during the rest of the year. I don't just remember what happened, I relive it. It can be hard for me to even go into the room he was born in around this time -- it feels like a crime scene. The birthday party (which we hold the Sunday prior) is like a way to fortify myself for the coming days. The revelry and wild children mix up and dissipate the heavy energy that hangs in this room. The friends surrounding us create at least a temporary buffer between what was, what is and what could have been. His actual birthday is like a twenty-four hour vigil where I feel like I'm trying to mentally ward of impending doom by sheer force of will. Sleep can't come too soon and the next day I come out the other side ready to face the world again.
Well, I was going to write more, but that took a lot out of me. It's hard for me to admit weakness or need, but there you go -- a nice big bottomless pit. Take a good look -- it won't happen again for another year.
My Grandmother is still giving me and other family members the run around on the whole estate planning thing. She's bordering on incapacitated and there is still no will. Not to mention the fact that's all we've been focused on -- not much time for the passing down of family lore and wisdom that I had hoped for. I really don't want my last memories of my Grandmother to be tainted with frustration and resentment. There is some weird shit going on in my family and I feel like an innocent bystander. I have very little to gain beyond the satisfaction of a job well done and the knowledge that things are being handled properly. You'd think they'd feel lucky to have someone reasonably competent and experienced willing to take this on, but no. That would just be too easy.
Another example of thwartedness: I spent a good chunk of time last week creating party invites for H's birthday that I ultimately had to scrap because of a design flaw. Besides that I hated the way they looked. The next day I went to Paper Zone, where my favorite sales clerk/craft guru helped me upgrade my paper choices and refine my design a bit. Then I set to the task of making them all over again (much better, very cute, but perhaps too sedate for a 4th birthday), digging up addresses and sending them off. Two days later I got the first one back in the mail. I had stamped my return address on the back of the envelope and when I put on the stamps I placed them to the left instead of the right -- nobody noticed! I guess that's what God invented the internets for -- I'll have to e-mail everyone tonight and make sure they know the scoop. Some people think I go to extreme lengths for H's birthday (more about that later) but look -- I'm not much of a cook or a seamstress, I don't knit or vigilantly scrapbook (I do keep a file labeled "Scrapbook") so I feel the least I can do is go all out at what I'm best at and that usually involves themes, decor, paper, ink and snacks.
Last week I found out that H's honorary Grandparents would be out of town the weekend of the party, and then yesterday their daughter who is one of my closest friends and whom I had made a date with weeks ago to bake a cake the day before (as per our annual tradition), announced that she and her husband were headed out of town as well, as they had a chance for a free get away before their baby is due (almost three months from now). I shrugged it off at the time but I have to admit that I am really hurt. I'm doing a lot for this friend right now -- giving her most of my fanciest hand-me-downs, helping her decorate the baby's room, and co-hostessing her shower. The truth is that if it was a priority they would find another weekend and another way. They are not hurting, just in a 1st baby frenzy.
I know I might sound like a big baby myself to some of you, but this is the one time of year that I really need to draw my friends close around me. As much as I love my kid and embrace our fate (note the lower case f)and want to celebrate his birth, there is an undercurrent of dread, a tightening in my chest, a feeling of being hurtled toward something I'm terrified of every year. H's birth was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. It's the day he almost died and the day we began a harrowing yet hopeful adventure that has no end in sight.
Anniversaries seem to open up psychic portals in the space-time continuum that rarely manifest during the rest of the year. I don't just remember what happened, I relive it. It can be hard for me to even go into the room he was born in around this time -- it feels like a crime scene. The birthday party (which we hold the Sunday prior) is like a way to fortify myself for the coming days. The revelry and wild children mix up and dissipate the heavy energy that hangs in this room. The friends surrounding us create at least a temporary buffer between what was, what is and what could have been. His actual birthday is like a twenty-four hour vigil where I feel like I'm trying to mentally ward of impending doom by sheer force of will. Sleep can't come too soon and the next day I come out the other side ready to face the world again.
Well, I was going to write more, but that took a lot out of me. It's hard for me to admit weakness or need, but there you go -- a nice big bottomless pit. Take a good look -- it won't happen again for another year.