How do you grieve for someone who's still alive?

So, my Nana has dementia. She's been in a memory care facility for a while. My aunt was taking care of her for a few years before that.

My for-all-purposes-stepmom called today to let me know that Nana isn't doing so well. Nana is pretty old, true. She's been missing my Pop-pop for over a decade (when she's aware that he's passed on. Sometimes, she just wonders why he doesn't come to see her). Her kidneys are failing. She's been put into hospice care.

I tried calling her today. She couldn't hear me over the phone (She wears hearing aids). She sounds healthy and in good spirits.

My stepdad has dementia. My mom is his primary caregiver. She puts up with a lot of verbal and emotional abuse. Gaslighting is a regular thing. It would be easier if we knew HOW accountable he was and when he was really lucid. He's not the same person he was. He told my mom that he loves her (he's sad that she's going to be moving up here soon. His children are stepping in to help take care of him. He's rather burned some bridges with two of them ... if he's not happy about a situation, it's like he goes out of his way --wittingly or no -- to ensure that NO ONE is happy). ... she responded that, with how he's treated her the last couple years, it's rather hard to believe that.

I don't like dementia.

I don't like any of its forms.

I don't like mourning people even before they've passed.

My Nana is still really sweet ... maybe even sweeter than she was when I was little. She (last we visited) still knew who Michael was, I was, and the kids are. That's pretty good. She doesn't recognize one of my cousins, which is sad.

I try to write Nana letters. I hope that she stays with us long enough to get this one.
I find it hard to write Nana letters ... not because I don't like to write or because I don't love her ... but because I find it hard not to write some of the things that I'd want to say ... because I don't want to take a chance of hurting her or confusing her.
"I miss who you were."
"I wish that you remembered [S] when you saw her."
"I love seeing you, but I hate crying afterwards."
"I wish that you were closer and could come visit our new house. I think you'd love it. I wish I could ask you about some of the features, since you might have an idea of what they were intended for."
"I wish that you knew that Pop-pop isn't avoiding you and that he hasn't abandoned you."
"I wish that I could take you to the temple while you're alive ... but I am planning, as soon as I can, to do your work and get you sealed to Pop-pop. I miss him, too."
"Thank you for always asking after my mom when we visit you. It makes me feel better to know that you really do love her -- even though things were REALLY ROUGH (especially for her) after the divorce. I wish that my dad had told you that they were separating before you found out from someone else in town."
"I miss going to your house when I was little. I miss you serving me fresh strawberries with cream and sugar. I miss your clam chowder. I miss how your house smelled. I miss dressing up with [S] in your nightgowns. I miss how you would buy us matching Christmas presents and she and I would go and have a fashion show after we opened presents."
"I miss how you'd tell me stories of when I was little." "I miss how when I'd call you and as soon as I'd say, 'Hi, Nana!' and you KNEW it was me, since I'm the only one who calls you that -- or you'd call up and ask to speak to 'Princess Budderfwy,' since that was your favorite mispronunciation of mine when I was learning to speak. No one else calls me Princess Budderfwy ... just like no one else calls me an 'onery little critter' like Pop-pop would. And, really, I did deserve that."
"I miss playing Megan and Sundance when I was little, even though you weren't wild about giving me horsie rides on your back when I was 5 and you were fifty-seven (or so)."
"I miss how you were ALWAYS 57 whenever I asked how old you were. You will always be 57 to me. I am constantly getting closer and closer to getting as old ... and older ... than you." "I miss going to musicals at the Hult Center with you."
"I miss going shopping with you."
"I miss walking to your house."
"Do you remember that silver patent-leather pair of Sketchers you bought me when I was, what, fifteen? And how you told me about the looks people gave you -- an old lady trying on silver sneakers -- since you and I had the same shoe size? I kept those sneakers until they were falling apart because they made me smile every time I saw them and remembered your story. I might just go buy another pair of silver Sketchers for that reason."

I don't know about you ... but I think I'm going to go sit in the shower and cry.
I hate it when people go where I can't follow. I hate it when dementia changes people.

I need to get control of my emotions before the kids get home.

As my stepmom said, Nana's gone into hospice care. We don't know how long she has. It could be soon. Or it could be months down the line. We don't know.

Honestly, it would be a bit easier to have more of an idea.
We had been planning on going down for a visit on what was the weekend AFTER Pop-pop passed.
The kids are in school. There's soccer and General Conference. I have meetings and activities that are a bit harder to work around ... but ... I could just pull the kids out of school and take one day off if we need to.

Once I can talk without sounding stuffed up and weepy, I think I'll call my aunt and ask for their plans. Once I can get to that point.  (Oh, why can't everyone just text. It's easier to conceal my emotional nature that way.)

..... ..

I've not been very productive ... but that'll be changing here shortly.

I HAVE gotten the kids' laundry through the wash (one more load to dry) ... now to have them fold and put it away when they get home, right?

I'll be doing another load of dishes, since that's a NEED. And I'm going to get the front rooms cleaned up a bit more (since they're really not at all right yet. Ha ha...)

So, a few months ago, I did the "see less from" for a friend of mine on Facebook, knowing that we'd still be Facebook friends and that, when I was ready to see more of her posts, I could just go to her page.

I realized today, since I was feeling braver and readier, that somehow we've been unfriended.

I had to call Michael anyway, so he looked too. (An engineer-ish trait is confirming information, just to be sure that things are really things.) He also had been unfriended.

I can hope that this is a Facebook glitch, though there are more than a dozen friends that we still have in common.

I'm not feeling brave enough, though, to send a message, to throw out a "hey! I saw that Facebook says we're not friends anymore! Whoops! I hope that I didn't do that ... or that you didn't do that. Because I still care. And I hope that you do, too. ... Not hearing from you when you were in town was sad, but I figured that you were busy and all. And I didn't want to be that needy friend when you're busy. ... Or it could be that, as close friends as we were, you do just need your space and all ... and maybe I'm not quite as fun/cool/supportive/helpful to you as I hoped I was. ... And, well, that's cool, too. Because I just want you to be happy. ... Even though I miss you. ... But I hope that you and your family are all doing well. And that you're happy. Because I want you to be happy and healed and whole..."

But, really, how do you say all that in a not-at-all-pathetic, no-pressure way?
I'm not coming up with anything.

So, yeah.

I mean it's great that Michael's my best friend and I have him and get to see him and have sleepovers with him just about every single day. And my mom's an awesome bestie, too.
I have other friends-that-are-girls, too ... just not always as close as I'd like or within a 30-minute drive, you know?

And I know that 99%+ is all on me for that. It's easier, with kids, to NOT leave the house and just replace calling people (and dealing with kids in the background/ambient noise/non-complimentary schedules/etc) with emailing, facebook, and blogging. ... Or not even doing those, but striving to achieve a cleaner house and/or making progress in getting through my TBR pile.

I mean, I know that this friendship was on the rocks and all ... we weren't talking or emailing (though, when I'd reach out, she'd respond and it'd be very much like old times ... though with her being far away and having kids and going through school and ... a lot of ands ...) ... I know she's busy. But I miss hanging out with her. And it hurts to have this ... raw space.

And I get that them's the breaks sometimes. And it'll suck for a while.
And I'll need to pray and read my scriptures more. And things will get easier.
And I'll clean my house and invite some friends over to watch movies together.
And, eventually, Bubbles will be in school and I'll start volunteering at the library or spend more time volunteering at the kids' school(s).
And maybe PTC will choose a day/time that isn't the same date/time so that I can work to be more social with the sisters in my ward ...


...

.....

...

So, I obviously need to be more proactive in being social.
And, in order to do THAT, I should clean my house so that I can have people over without them being in danger of bodily harm (from tripping over the mess) AND so they'll have a place to sit (as comfortable as my piles and piles and piles of laundry are ...).

I'm not totally, completely okay yet ... but it's nice to be able to type all this out in some attempt to work out HOW my jumble of feelings can be translated into actual thoughts.

Though, I'll be honest ... I do rather wish that I was back in high school where/when all my good friends lived pretty close. That was handy. If one moves away/starts being homeschooled/whatever, I could still keep in contact a bit ... but there were other friends to hang out with at lunch or before school or at rehearsal. I miss that. I miss it a lot.

Your "What's-Gone-On-In-the-Last-Two-Weeks-If-You-Really-Care" Update

So, yeah, it's been two weeks since I last blogged.
(Way to go, me ... sounds like I'm starting with a confession. I'm not Catholic, but I do have some friends who are ... and it's not like I haven't seen movies where a character is in Confession ... I digress. Like I always do.)

Okay, since June 9th ...

Well, I WANTED this to be a fun, chatty post, since I got back in touch with my high-school Theater teacher (also taught Writing for College, which was a great class, too). (No, I'm NOT trying to suck up, okay? I really did enjoy those classes AND having him as a teacher/friend. Geez, you guys.) ... where was I? Oh yes ... AND I would have really preferred, since I told him that I have a blog and he said that he'd be glad to read it, to have something witty and funny and well-drafted ... but, well, it is what it is (didn't Vonnegut say that? I find myself saying it a lot. And I think it's a quote ... Whatever. I've just gotten up and I can't brain yet).

Sorry, Mr. A. I really did want to be clever and awesome. But, well, at least you know that I didn't hire a ghostwriter or anything, right?

SO ... the kids are out of school for the summer. Bruise and Bucket had their well-child check-up. They're current on their shots (Bucket had pumped herself up to be prepared for a vaccination, though I was pretty sure she didn't need one, so she was bummed NOT to get a shot. ... Yup, that's my girl).
That's how we started Summer Vacation -- go to the doctor's, then take the kids' to Grandma's house (while Mom and Dad go to a meeting [read that: get to a meeting rather late because the guy in charge of getting information only told us the [City] Stake Center, not an address. So we went to the church building in [City], then had to call our sister-in-law to figure out where we (and another ten cars) SHOULD be ... which meant that we were BARELY on time. Which meant that Michael had to listen to me grouse about how I HATE being late. Poor guy. At least we got to eat at the Pita Pit for dinner, so it wasn't terrible. And the meeting was good [about missionary work]).

Backtracking -- the kids had a fun time at their class trip to OMSI. I was feeling guilty about not going with (but then I'd have to run Bubbles up to Mom C's, run the kids and myself BACK into town, drive up to OMSI -- most likely carpooling, so then I'd have to drop off everyone BACK at the school and run BACK UP to Mom C's, AND THEN go back home) ... however, since I found myself being VERY GOOD FRIENDS with Mr. Toilet that day, I didn't feel so guilty.
(I would have said that I didn't feel so bad, but that would have been a lie. Since I was NOT feeling good by any means. Not for a while.)

I've agreed to be PTC (Parent-Teacher Club) Secretary for the 2015-2016 school year.
Sounds like the meetings will be moved to Tuesday evenings, which mostly work better for me. Michael can pick up the kids (and take Bucket to her Activity Days twice a month) ... I'd better prepare a metric crapton of slow cooker meals.
It also sounds like there'll be a morning meeting once a month. I'm sure they'll get used to me in pajamas, schlepping my brood in. (I jest, I jest. But I WILL be rocking a ponytail with my I-threw-this-on-right-before-running-to-the-car ensemble.)

Before the kids went down to stay a week with grandfolks (they stayed with my dad and L Monday; then, until Friday, they were with my mom and stepdad), we did the kick-off for the city summer activity/scavenger hunt/passport program/thing. It's actually really fun. You get a little passport and go around (mostly downtown) and collect stamps from participating businesses. At some places, you need to do something to earn your stamp. At others, you get to make something (like at the paint-you-own pottery, you paint a little trinket [which you'll come back later to pick up, after it's been put into the kiln and cooled. Or, at a coffee shop/deli, (at least last year) kids made their own, free, Italian soda. Or you had to shoot so many baskets on the court at the YMCA. Stuff like that]). Some are out a little ways -- in one, you go to a historic mill, which makes a nice day trip. it's fun to go on the tour and into the little interpretive center -- grind some flour by hand. Maybe feed the chickens and turkeys ...

But, yeah, Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles had fun spending the week with grandfolks. They all came back happy, tired, and sunburned (I know they did put on sunscreen. They were JUST in the sun that much).

While they were gone, I had high hopes of laying in bed and reading all day (like I could do pre-kids). Instead I did small bursts of cleaning ... and got my hair colored.
Tuesday, I went through the kids' outgrown clothing and got that sorted. Then I went to the salon for my appointment. I'm now even blonder (working towards platinum, since that's one of the [few] colors I haven't done) and sporting some fun streaks. We tried to do teal, purple, and pink ... but the pink didn't take at all. So I have fun teal and purple streaks (hadn't done purple streaks before. I've done teal, but only on the bottom-most layer of hair. And that was years ago) happening.
Then Michael and I went to see Jurassic World (which was good despite not starring Dr. Ian Malcom. Though, trivia says (and I missed it), that Jeff Goldblum's picture IS featured on a couple books held by two characters in the film).

Wednesday, I cleaned up the house a bit and organized a freezer (which NEEDED to happen, because I was sick and tired of foisting off an impeding avalanche EVERY time I opened that stinkin' freezer), since we were feeding the missionaries. One of the elders is going to be going home soon. Which is a bummer (for us) since he's really fun. But we know that his family misses him, so we'll deal.
After dinner, we went to Home Depot to go pick up supplies for Thursday evening ...

Thursday, I spent around four hours cleaning up the kids' room. Two bags of stuff to donate. Another FULL bag of trash, countless passes with the vacuum on every bit of floor that I could reach, cleaning off the BIG shelves ... and their room was clean. BUT ONLY HALF OF THEIR ROOM.
(We worked on the other half of the floor and the closet on Sunday. Happy Father's Day, Honey!)

Then I went shoe shopping. I ended up with a pair of sneakers (goal), a pair of dress shoes (secondary goal), a pair of nice flip-flops, and a new shirt (bonus!) And some new socks. And a swim cap to protect my dye job (which sort of worked).

Thursday night, we spent building Bubbles's new bed, since she bent the frame of her (used) toddler bed by jumping on it. Whoops. Michael cut the boards, I sanded the boards. We ran to Home Depot again (another board and more sandpaper). We bolted the thing together and screwed down the plywood ... If a bomb should happen, that bed might burn to the ground. But it'll burn to the ground as a thing SOLIDLY BOLTED TOGETHER. Doesn't even shake or shiver when I sit on it.

Friday, I went to work with Michael. I helped Paige (the office manager) by collapsing cardboard boxes (which brought back memories as I used the boxcutter. Even though it's been around 20 years, I still know how to employ boxcutter safety. Thank you Shop Smart and your [kinda boring] safety videos). Then we took out the recycling ... which, being Paige and me, was filled with giggling and nearly dropping bags of precariously-piled bags of magazines and newspapers. She's totally fun to hang with. And I got to meet her son in the survey department (Lest you misunderstand, this is NOT a large company. I think they have about 15-20 employees. But I hadn't met everyone ... usually since, if we come with the kids, I work to take the kids out to the stores in the complex or the park, so that Michael can actually get some work done. That and we never can turn down a trip to Trader Jo's. :P).

After work, we got lunch (even though Cafe Yumm did mess up our order a little. It was still delicious.) and headed down to my hometown. We collected the kids so we could check into the hotel (and give my mom a chance to rest -- between taking care of the kids AND my stepdad [who has dementia], she was exhausted. Poor girl).

We checked in, got settled, waited for my aunt and my cousin's daughter (who Aunt J is taking care of this summer) to come, then we went swimming.
Since I mentioned that my swim cap mostly worked, instead of having nice delineated technicolor streaks, they turned into more ... mermaid hair. Which isn't BAD by any means. Just a little different.

After that, we got dressed and ready and headed back to Mom's for dinner.
After eating and the kids (Cousin + my munchkin brigade) playing, we headed back to the hotel, took a small tour of the casino, and went to bed.

Michael joked that, "Hey, maybe this is the room that Mike Rowe stayed in a few weeks back." But I had to break it to him that, no, THAT hotel is the one across the highway.
(Though, it WOULD have been awesome to be able to make that claim. Heck, I think that THAT hotel should get a little brass historical event plaque for the door: "On ___, 2015, Mike Rowe slept in this room." We could use the added tourism, I'm sure.)

Saturday, we started back fro home, making a stop at Wildlife Safari (If you have a membership at the Oregon Zoo [Ours is almost ready to expire], you can get your admission for 1/2 price. #TheMoreYouKnow) So we made it worth our while. Then we scouted some stores for another LEGO set that's all sold out up here. No dice. And we got some fast food for the drive home.

We got the sad news that Michael did not pass his HUGE engineering test that he took back in April.
He'll be taking it again, next April.
Please send prayers, good thoughts, happy muju, whatever.
Passing this test (next year) will make him a full-fledged Civil Engineer.
Which is what he's been working for.
(I'm just irritated that OSBEELS is dumb in not letting you know your actual score or what you missed or anything. Just a Pass/Fail. Which isn't very helpful. How can you gauge how much you need to improve? Bah.)

Bubbles loves her new bed. The kids are enjoying their clean room (still need to go through three dressers -- hoping to get Bucket's clothes into ONE dresser, so that the other dresser can START housing Bubbles's clothes -- getting THOSE out of OUR room -- AND one set of shelves. THEN they will have a CLEAN-clean room.
And they'll just have to do maintenance on it ... or face the wrath of a frustrated mommy. (A fate worse than death!)

We wished everyone (Michael's dad, my stepdad, my dad, and my Grampy) a happy Father's Day on Sunday. The little craft that the kids in Nursery did for the dads was well-received (the kids did a handprint on a page that said "Daddy, I'm hooked on you." We added a googly eye and orange lips to make the handprints into fish. I made it about as simple and easy as possible. just had to ink up the kids' hands, make the prints, wipe off the hands, let dry, draw on lips with an orange marker, glue on the googly eye, and let dry. Most of them were even done last week. Even better).

Yesterday, we did some chores while Michael was at work. Then we went to a Health Fair, to the library, and back home. The big kids worked on Duolingo (Spanish) and khanacademy (math) and read a bit. And played outside with a neighbor.
Then we went to their swim lesson, where they had fun with Bob.

Today (and the rest of this week) will be more of the same -- housework, not forgetting everything they learned last year, playing ... and doing some of the town passport program.

As I type all this out, I realize that I have a vaguely boring life. But ... well, I like it.

Because, unfortunately, there are much worse alternatives.
Like what happened in my hometown Saturday night.

I don't know how much it's been on the news, but there was a shooting.
In my small hometown.
Which left my cousin's best friend's husband dead.
By his nephew (who was one of my classmates since Kindergarten).

Both the victim, JP, and BF, who shot him are family members of a couple that are in my home Ward (church congregation, if you're not LDS) family.
J is the son of this couple. B is their grandson.

And we're just left reeling. Because ... how could this have happened?
My cousin's BFF went from having a perfect, happy family to being a widow in seconds. And she witnessed the whole thing. I can't imagine how she's feeling.
And poor N (the mom/grandma) ... because she and her husband are some of the nicest, kindest people around ... nobody deserves for this to happen, least of all them.

I keep hoping that this is just some crap nightmare. But it's not.

And I can't wrap my head around this.
BF was a nice guy.
When we were in Kindergarten together, after school, we'd walk the block north from the school, then part ways (he towards his grandma's house about a block away to the west, me further north to my house).
"See you in a million years!" he'd call as he crossed the street.
"No, see you tomorrow," literal-minded little me would call back.

And, in middle school, when he was in the popular group and I was not ... One time, in P.E., he came up to me after another less-than-pleasant bout of existence with some of the in-crowd kids.
"You know," he told me, "you could be popular."
"What?" I replied. As quick on the uptake as ever. Typical Allanna.
"You could be popular, too. If you drop [friend's name] as a friend."
(I mean, I didn't make that choice. But I knew that BF didn't have to tell me that. And that he did because he saw what was going on. And I was sure that he remembered how we were friends in elementary school ... and that ... well, it's not the type of thing someone without empathy and caring would do.)

Even on Facebook, now, people are all commenting that they can't believe that BF would ever do something like that. He was So-and-so's friend. He was always a good guy. ...

... what happened?

And I keep wondering if there was something that I could have done.
I mean, after middle school, we weren't close or anything. We were in the same school and we'd say "hi" to each other when we saw each other. But we didn't move in the same circles, really.
But I always thought of him as a friend.

I mean, I was DOWN in our hometown that day.
If I knew then what I do now, I'd have worked to track him down and talked to him.

But, I mean, what could I have said ... "Hey, later tonight, don't shoot your uncle. AT ALL. Not even once, let alone a bunch. M'kay? That'd be great. So, how's it been going for the last decade or so? You doing okay?"

Not very realistic, I know. But ... could I have been a better friend to him? Was he even on Facebook? I could have sent him a friend request ... let him know that I always remember him fondly, since we were friends a long time ago. That I appreciated that he offered me that chance at being in the in-crowd when nobody else really seemed to care (except jumping at the chance to make my friend's life pretty awful).

Michael tells me there's really nothing that I could have done differently.
Which is true. Unless I had a time-machine or something ...

Which then makes me wonder WHY this happened? HOW could this happen?
This is the kind of thing you read about.
It's not something that you can prepare yourself for in advance (well, not and remain mentally healthy).

And I find myself, squatting to find refried beans or tomato sauce in the pantry cupboard and wondering, "What am I doing with my life??? Why am I even here ... what's the significance of my existence right now? I should be doing something ... and ..."
And then I have to get on with my life because I have three kids who need to be fed and a husband to assist and a cat to snuggle (so she won't get all anxious and pee in the laundry pile or over-groom herself. Seriously, I cannot believe that out of all of us, it's the CAT that has a prescription for Prozac. Obviously, this is the perfect cat for me. Obviously.)

However, I think that it's time to escape into a book sometime today.
I have a pile of library books that need to be read ... but I'm feeling the need to jump into a tested-and-true old friend. Something familiar. Something safe. Something that will be good to read while Bubbles is napping.

I mean, I have faith that there's an overall plan. And that we all are going to learn and grow from this ... horrible ... happenstance.

But, still, I really wish it hadn't happened at all.

When I am benevolent dictator of the world, all conflicts will be dealt with hugging-it-out. Or maybe pie-eating contests. Or staring contests whilst eating dark chocolate (unless one is allergic. To chocolate. I've not yet heard of anyone being allergic to staring ... but what do I know?).

In which I am ... something

So, I'm in a little funk.
Which might be a bit of an understatement, really.
But, regardless, ...

So, I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but my Nana (my dad's mom) has dementia.
I used to be able to say that "She's been diagnosed with dementia." But now, really, it's not just a diagnosis. It's not something that I can just wave away ... as much as I wish that I could.

She's not able to live alone anymore. She lives with one of my uncles and his wife (She really didn't ever have to worry about where to live. If she had rather lived with my dad and his girlfriend, they [or, what really counts, my "stepmom"] were more than willing to have her come live with them, too).

Part of this is just sad ... and life ...

Of course, I'm a rather sentimental idiot person. And it hits me a bit harder at times.

My kids have no memory at all of Nana and Pop-pop's house by the creek and one of the parks in my hometown. Because they've never been there. Ever.
(By the time Bruise and Bucket were even conceived, Nana had sold that [lonely, to her, after Pop-pop's death] place and had moved into her own place in the main city. Bubbles will barely ever even remember THAT house.)

Whereas, so MANY of my childhood memories (especially Christmas Eve memories) revolve around that house.
I mean, it could be worse. Nana promised my cousin, S, that she'd get the house ... and, well, that's obviously not going to be a reality. But I think that S is able to deal with that ... at least, a lot better than I would.

I can be honest that, as much as I LOVE Christmas, since Grandma Darlene passed, it's been different. THEN, after Pop-pop passed (and Nana sold that house), it was even more different. I still love it ... but ... it's just not the same. And I miss that sameness, that consistency of opening presents on the burnt-orange carpeting with a fire in the fireplace, with my dad's-side cousins FINALLY getting there. And racing to the bathroom with Cousin S to try on our new clothes ... and the old green corded telephone ... and ... all these little things.

And it reduces me to tears, missing these times that I took for granted far too much.
I wish that I had thought to take (and develop) pictures of each room, of the outside of the house, of Pop-pop's garden ... and I am so disappointed that I never did.

Though, in my mom's shop/garage, I do have the original kitchen door to Nana's old kitchen (before the remodel). Someday (and Michael is aware of this), I will have a house around it again.
I love that door. It's one of those Dutch-style ones ... where you can open just the top half.
Everyone thought that I was silly/crazy for asking for that door ... but, well, I do love it. ... If it would fit in our house here, I'd have installed it ages ago. ... But it takes me back, just thinking of that door. Nana would open it and check the laundry running on the (enclosed) porch. Or go put the bowls of custard out to cool, sprinkling nutmeg on the tops ...

So, even though my family was quite amused/bemused by my request/demand, I have no regrets at all about it.

But there are things that I wish that I could have done differently or could just have the chance to do again because I miss those times ...

• When my parents separated, I wish that I had visited Nana and Pop-pop more. Especially when my dad wasn't in town. I avoided him when he visited for a bit, telling him that I had plans or was busy (when it wasn't really true. But, when you're eleven/twelve, how else do you really punish someone who's made it apparent that the effort to be a family with you and your mom isn't worth it? ... So, yeah. But I should have visited Nana and Pop-pop more when he wasn't at their place).
• I miss going out shopping with Nana. Even just browsing at The Emporium or The Bon Marche or Sears or J.C. Penney ... and most of those stores are getting to the point where they no longer even exist. 
• I miss being able to talk to Nana and knowing that she'd recall that we even had a conversation the next day/week/month.
• I miss being able to talk to Nana on the phone and that she'd be able to hear me/recognize my voice. Now, even though my kids and I are the only folks who call her "Nana," she can't hear me well enough. But she does love to get a phone call. So I call my Aunt I, talk to HER and give her any pertinent information, and then chat at Nana ... who can't really hear me at all. So now I work hard to send her cards and letters ... so that she can KNOW who's sending her things and what all IS happening.
• I miss going to the movies or musicals with Nana.
• I miss going over to play at Nana and Pop-pop's. Riding the tractor/riding lawnmower and helping Pop-pop "drive" (then actually mowing Mrs. Weatherbee's property for Pop-pop) [True story: When I was little, I wanted to get a riding lawnmower so that I could ride it to school. This was before I saw "Can't Buy Me Love." I just really loved driving the riding lawnmower. Way cooler than a bike.], having dinner (always at 6:00pm) with Nana and Pop-pop. Sitting down at their kitchen table on a summer afternoon when Nana would put out a bowl of strawberries, fresh from the garden, sprinkled with sugar, and then pour some cream on top and hand me a spoon.
• I miss Nana being such a lady so often (dressing up to go out shopping. Getting a wet set every Saturday. Touching up her lipstick) and yet using phrases like, "I've got to use THE POT!" when she needed to answer the call of nature. 

I wore my pair of silver patent-leather Sketchers to bits, really, because my Nana loved me enough to buy them for me. Mostly because, when I unwrapped them (either for my birthday or Christmas), she told me how she'd gone up to Eugene to buy them ... and, since she and I wore the same size shoes, everyone watched as "this old lady tried on all the crazy sneakers."

So, even though they got old and scuffed-up and dirty, I wore them and smile whenever I looked at my feet. Even when one of the girls I considered a friend mocked them. (My answer to her less-than-favorable opinion of my shoes? "My Nana gave them to me.")

Because those shoes were total physical proof of how much my Nana loves me.

Yesterday, while out with Mom, I bought an earring display ... thing. But now I can display both my dangling AND post earrings (I wear a lot of stud-type earrings) ... and I spent around an hour or so putting my earrings on it. At first, I worried that I'd lost one of a favorite pair from Nana ... but, thankfully, I found it in a baggie that I'd had to sweep a lot of the-disaster-that-is-my-make-up-counter into.

Maybe one reason that I'm taking this hard is that, as I've realized, dementia is horrible in the fact that it makes you mourn the person who has it BEFORE they've died. And I don't like that.

Another reason could be that, even though I was sealed to my parents when I was little, my dad left the church totally. Had his records removed and all. And my mom's sealed to my stepdad now. I don't know exactly how things will end up working out. I mean, I have faith that they WILL ... but I'm not so concrete as to the HOW of things ... but, when I sing, as in the Primary song, that "Families can be together forever" and "I always want to be with my own family," I've never considered NOT being sealed to my Nana and Pop-pop. But with my dad having removed himself from the situation ... well, things will work out. I know, I KNOW, that Heavenly Father wants me to be happy. And I can't see a way that I would be happy without maintaining those family links. So I KNOW that something will work out. And that's a definite reason to keep on working on my family history and making sure that all the other temple work gets done ... so that, when the time comes that there IS an answer, I'll be ready. And I can be sealed to Nana and Pop-pop and their families.

So ... yeah. I'm ... yeah.

I'm just living by faith in this. Having the answers NOW (or years ago) would be nice. But, well, it's an opportunity to live by faith, right?

Since Our Last Episode ...

Okay ... I THINK Bubbles is going to stay down for a nap while I type this.

And then Bucket asks if she can have potato chips for breakfast. Ha! As if!
(I may be a bit lenient in some things ... but ... no. Not potato chips.)

So, what all has gone on ... Let's see.

Monday, Michael came home early and we picked up (and paid for the repair of) the truck. Back to having two vehicles. Phew!
He took the kiddos home in the truck and Bubbles and I went to Target to pick up some groceries and things.
Michael worked at trimming the grass until the Weed Whacker quit (might have to get a new one. No idea).
And we went out and bought fireworks.
(I don't know that we'll do BoomTown again ... there were QUITE A FEW duds in the assortment that we got. The sparklers in that assortment were pretty pathetic, so it happens.)

Tuesday, Bruise had a dental appointment, so we headed out that away. And stopped by WalMart to pick up the last of the groceries for feeding the missionaries that night.
I made a pudding pie -- graham cracker crust, strawberry cream-flavored pudding, and strawberry glaze on the top. For dinner, we had grilled chicken, salad, and watermelon (I think that was it. It's been a few days).
I like when we get to feed the elders (even when I'm dashing about cleaning the house like a MANIAC, which I had been), because we get to talk to them and get to know them better.
(And, hey, the house is a HECKUVA LOT CLEANER. Which is nice.)
The kids and I also went downtown to get some more stamps on their scavenger hunt. Just a few more to go! Pretty exciting!

Wednesday, we went to the Farmers' Market, then to the Dollar Store (for candy), then to Michael's folks' house (to drop off Bubbles), then to watch Brave (we liked it. The kids want to buy it NOW so we can watch it again). Then we went back to Michael's folks' place (to pick up Bubbles and) to eat tacos with the family.
We headed home and did fireworks in front of our house ... and got to see some of the neighbors' fireworks. And caught a glimpse of some larger fireworks (some legally done by the county ... and some ...NOT).
I had a headache and Bubbles was hungry, so I bowed out early and went in and fed her.
Once we got her laid down (in her bed, even, not just the swing!), she slept through the night. Which was very nice.

Yesterday, Bubbles had her four-month appointment. She's up to ALLLLLLMOST 13 pounds and is just over 24 inches long. Her doctor looked her over and pronounced her a beautiful, healthy baby.
Bruise's Molluscum are nearly gone. Bucket's are working their way through. Bubbles does not have ANY. (And I'd like to keep it that way, thankyouverymuch.)

Now, since I read a Tumblr and I have friends who love the series, I'm passably familiar with Doctor Who. Michael and I are now watching the series together. (And, while chatting about it last night, I was able to accurately guess how many seasons Tennant and Smith have done.) So, we're about halfway through Season One of the newer series (with Eccleston). He really DOES say "fantastic" a LOT.

In other news, Google announced that, come November next year (2013), they're retiring iGoogle ... which Michael and I have LOVED as our homepages (on our respective computers/accounts) since it launched.
So, I'm now setting up a protopage ... which is a lot LIKE iGoogle. So, I hope it'll be suitable. Still, it's sad.

As I was driving us back from Bubble's appointment yesterday, I was hit (SO hard!) by a wave of nostalgia. I'm in my thirties now. And I just wanted (SO badly!) to go back to being around Bruise and Bucket's age. Back when everything seemed so much simpler.
Back when my cousin S and I were always hanging together during the summer.
We'd play in the wading pool at Nana and Pop-pop's. Or get to "help" drive the riding lawnmower with Pop-pop. Nana would feed us fresh strawberries with cream and sugar on top. She'd give us a bath and then dry us off with a hair dryer and powder our skin with a puff. We'd play dress up with her old nightgowns and use her umbrellas as parasols (I wonder whatever happened to the one that we'd fight over? One was a plain black umbrella. The other was [so wonderful!] a dusky lavender umbrella with a white handle that ended as a swan's head. Like a more elegant version of Mary Poppins' umbrella).
I miss going to the Pinecone (restaurant) for ice cream with my dad. Or going to the 76 Station so he could talk to his friends working there and I'd get a soda out of the machine in the office.
I miss the smell of the town Drug Store (it STILL smells the same. Still. I can walk into that pharmacy and, for a second, I am a child again ... a lot of the stock has changed. But never the smell. What will I ever do when it gets torn down or turns into something else??).
I miss the smell of Javelin's health food store (it, too smells the same. Even though his daughter and I are all grown up, moved away, and have our own children).
I miss waking up to the sunlight slanting in my window and the smell of a summer's morning filling the air. I miss the possibilities -- I could read all day. I could go play in the creek. I could go to Nana's house. I could maybe go to S's house. Or play down the street with Heather or the Brinkerdinks (not their real last name ... but one of the Bishopric members later? He couldn't pronounce most people's names. And we always got a chuckle out of some of the mistakes. Strangely enough, he always got my name PERFECT). ... I could walk down to the elementary school and play on the playground ... I miss all of that.

And, there I was, driving home and missing everything SO. MUCH.
I was fighting back tears for a minute or so.

I wish I knew of a way to bottle up those scents. I'd bottle up the drug store. And the health food store. And Nana and Pop-pop's attic (since it was always SO SPECIAL to get to play up there. Even with the threat of rats).
... At least, with the carnation-scented oil I do have, I get to smell a bit of my childhood, a patch of carnations that grew in our yard. They always smelled AMAZING. These little pink flowers with dark magenta stripes ... all spicy and lovely-smelling. Carnations from the florist never smell nearly as nice. Which is such a disappointment. If you haven't smelled a carnation NOT from the florist's, you're so missing out.
You should change that. Post haste.

What a tangent ... but, well, isn't that why you read this blog?

Regardless, I am missing family that have left me behind shuffled off this mortal coil before I was ready to let them go.
I'm not able to remember their voices as much as I want to.(Oh, but when Grandpa C's brother talks? It's so close. And ... well, I forget how much I miss hearing Grandpa's voice. Even though it's only been a few years.) I do have a video I made (back when I was SO MUCH MORE ANNOYING. Seriously, it's a testament of love that I have ANY friends or family who put up with me back then) with Pop-pop talking a little in it. ... I don't have anything with Grandma Darlene's voice, though. ... And it's been almost 16 years since I saw her last.

Okay, I need to wrap this up. I should eat breakfast. And make sure that we have something ready for lunch. And Bubbles is waking up again (after either filling her diaper or just passing a ton of gas).
... And I have a cat on my lap. I shouldn't go anywhere. ... But I do have things that need doing. ... So I'll get them done after I have some time with my sweet, purring Freyja-cat.