A Different Christmas Season

December 26, 2010

I'd coin 2010 the year of guilt. Not that I'd make Santa's bad list or anything like that. But if I had to rank my behavior this year, it would be around a 3 1/2. When I started this blog about a year and a half ago, my goal was to simplify life. And for awhile, I was darn good at it. But, old habits die hard and they come back from the dead pretty quickly.

To be honest, going back to work after twelve months of unemployment was a difficult transition. Jumping back into work was easy; just like riding a bike. But finding balance in my life wasn't. All of the cards played in my favor. A commute less than two miles from home, my youngest son's school right across the street from my office and a job with flexibility. It was more than I could ask for...near perfection.

Strangely, my entry back into the work force came with an enormous sense of guilt. I was ready to go back, my kids were prepared for me to go back and the checkbook screamed for me to go back. So what was the problem? The fear of losing all that I learned about life and its real purpose.

Guilt kept me real. It allowed me to enjoy a normal work week. It ensured that I'd be there for my kids 100%. And I was...most of the time. Sure there were no more gourmet four course meals at 6:00, but they didn't miss my cooking as I never quite mastered the skill. They were happy with even a frozen pizza, so long as I was there to make it for them. My kids just want Mom. I made sure that I spent time with each of them together and alone.

My writing has suffered since my return to work. It had to take a back seat to life even though it pains me. Its my true escape. The release of my true creativity. My novel sits there waiting to be edited and the hundreds of stories in my head continue to prod me to be let out. Sleeping has been difficult as the characters continue to develop new story lines and lives of their own when I finally let the analytic side of my brain take a rest. I'm committed to placing writing as a priority for 2011.

But this holiday season, guilt has taken its toll on me. Its built like a brick house with one heavy stone layered upon the next. I feel the weight pushing and pushing until it nearly paralyzes me physically and emotionally. Although the weight is so heavy, a simple feather can knock me over. With each time, the tears come to paralyze me again.

The fa la la la la and Jolly ole Saint Nick weren't inside me this year. I heard no Christmas carols even though they surrounded me. I made methodical plans and lists to ensure the perfect gifts for my loved ones. But again, paralyzed at the thought of actually purchasing them. One Friday morning, I sat in the parking lot of the local mall and watched the shopper go in and out with smiles and bags and bags of Christmas cheer. With list in my hand and a day off of work, I sat there in the SUV just staring at the sure madness inside the square, glittery facade of materialism. I couldn't get myself to leave the vehicle. Paralyzed again. There would be no lists checked, presents purchased or responsibilities completed that day.

So you are probably thinking right now...what the hell is wrong with this lady? Should we take her to the looney bin? A question I've asked myself a hundred times. But no. I'm just fine. I've learned to put things into perspective. I'm the mother of a child with a chronic illness. Each morning I wake up and say the prayer, "Dear God, please help me keep my child alive today." and "Dear God, please give me the strength to be a great mom to both my children."

This past week was riddled with two very serious day's attempting to keep my child alive amidst people who "just don't get it." Amidst a society that's measured on wealth and materialism. Although on Christmas Eve this year I wasn't able to participate in the traditional festivities, I had the blessed opportunity to hold my sick child and thank the Lord for the birth of his son, Jesus Christ our Savior.

So while I held my son and ate Chunky Soup out of a can, I had no guilt. The best gift of all.

Nurture your plant and it will grow

Something occurred to me today while I was throwing old coffee grounds into the kitchen garbage can. The grounds landed directly onto a plant that my husband gave to me as a gift for my birthday just a month ago. The plant was dead. Not surprising as I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned. For some reason, I paused. As I looked into the dirty smattering of waste, for the first time I realized that for as long as I can recall, my husband has given me a plant for every birthday, valentines day and anniversary. He often gives fresh flowers as well, but always a plant.

Plants are living things that need to be nurtured and fed to survive. It doesn’t take much. Just a little attention, good lighting and water. Yet as hard as I try, I just can’t keep them alive. Is it because of my busy life? Is it because of my dedicated focus to my children…and waking every day with the prayer, “Dear God…please let me keep my child alive today,”? Is it because I just don’t have a green thumb? The questions burned my head as I poked at the brown, wilted leaves, wondering if it had a chance.

The answer is simple. It’s a complete lack of attention.

So what does this all mean? As I look at the dead plant, a chill runs through me. Is the plant is a metaphor for marriage? If you don’t nurture it with a little attention, it will wilt away. Is this the reason why my husband continues to purchase me these lovely living things? A symbol and reminder to focus on nurturing our relationship.

Why did it take me so long to finally “get it”? The next plant will live on…just like my beautiful marriage.

To Be Thankful

Thanksgiving is a time for escape. A kind holiday with little ceremony and expectation. A time to relax, spend time with family and friends, eat way too much fattening food and enjoy football. So as I sit in my cozy home, I reflect on a few things in 2010 for which to be thankful.

Several weeks ago, my new smart phone encountered a small hiccup and all work emails were lost. For a brief moment, I panicked. What the hell was I going to do without 24/7 connection to perceived chaos? Then I remembered, I manage my life…life doesn’t manage me. I remembered one core learning from a year of unemployment: There is no need for work emails while away from work.

The reinvention of Date Night with my husband Jon has turned me into a teenager again. Holding hands on a long walk, dining at great restaurant without having to pay and colorful conversation with my true love makes me giggle. So do the Appletinis, because date night always comes with a designated driver.

A black-nosed, pooping in the house, underwear eating pug puppy has brought calm to a stressed hubby, compassion to a teenager and responsibility to a young boy.

Healing: physical, spiritual and emotional.

2010 began with a new job after twelve month journey of unemployment. Entering the workforce again, I had no expectations, no desire to climb the corporate ladder and a mission to maintain balance in life. What I hadn’t realized when I walked through the door was a refreshing group of real people and work that I love. Yes it sounds corny…but I have a job that pays me, yet I’d do it for free. And a two mile commute.

Just two days ago we met with Amanda, our son’s fifth grade teacher. He is fortunate to have her for the second consecutive year. What’s amazing about Amanda is not only that she is a fantastic educator, but she also has a rare talent of uncovering the unique gifts within her students. I couldn’t help but sniffle when she proudly showed me a short story that Eli had written. “He has a voice. This is something you can’t teach.”

A husband that takes care of me.

The look on my fourteen year old son's face when he made the freshman basketball team and then the look of disappointment when his best friend had not. It was clear, I’d raised a good person not a ball player.

Discarding the Glucogon kit. Expired and unused.

So as I stuff myself with turkey and pie today, it’s easy to think of the big things in life to be thankful. But it’s remembering the small things that really matter.

Vision of yesterday

Could it be a dream? A chance to relive your past. A time where all things are not real. A heart break relived from so long ago. Yet, haunts you today. Why must the past feel so real? So present. Is it because of all of things you wished for that didn’t come true? But, the present seems so unreal. Not quite here and now. Is it possible to step back and relive what was never meant to be?

No.

White snow cold heart.

The glow of new white snow glistened when I looked out of my bedroom window this morning. A bit shocking in fact as my world’s landscape changed overnight. Not yet ready for winter, the beauty was breathtaking so the grief of the long warm fall wasn't so awful. Each year, the cold weather tears me apart like a bad break-up. Winter is not my friend. It takes time to adjust.

The freshness of the air burned my lungs as I breathed in the cold air while taking Bosco outside to experience the chilly, wet snow for the first time. He leaped into the air catching soft white flakes on his pink tongue as if they were doggie treats falling from the sky. The site of a puppy experiencing a winter wonderland for the first time made me giggle. It didn’t take him long to realize that the white stuff was cold and place he didn’t want to endure for long. Within minutes he was scratching at the door to come inside. Reluctantly, I let him in knowing that he will leave his morning gifts somewhere inside the house.

There is something about the first snow that changes people. For some, it’s a chance to get into the Christmas spirit. For others, it’s a chance to take on the Minnesota roads for the first time. For me, the new snow wiped away the painful week I’d experienced. A snowy Saturday morning allowed me to curl up with coffee and a blanket. My mind was still paralyzed by the draining week that included a very sick child, a demanding work week and evening commitments. The snow provided a fog that numbed my reality at the perfect time.

It looks like the snow is here to stay and winter is upon us. It could be so easy for me to slip into an unhealthy mental state. Yet, my imagination will allow me to mentally escape the cold that burdens my soul each year. Let the writing begin.

Small Miracles: My Running Shoes

Eleven years ago, I could never imagine life as it is today. But I do know that the evening that my youngest son Eli finally came into the world he was my miracle baby. And I’ve reminded him of this every day of his life. In fact when I ask Eli, “who are you?” He’ll answer each time, “Your miracle baby, Mama.” I told you about the miracle of my son Eli many times before so today, my son’s birthday, I’ll celebrate some of small miracles that have molded me as a person. It’s so easy for us as human beings to celebrate the big things in life…but it’s the daily events that make us who we are as people. For the next few blog entries I’ll share with you a few of my favorites.

Small Miracles: My Running Shoes
While unemployed, our family made huge life changes as we barely had enough money to pay the mortgage, health insurance, Eli’s diabetes supplies and very basic living expenses. It was a rude awakening to all of us. I’d never balanced my check book in my adult life because money was never in short supply. Jon had always been a good provider and conscious of spending, yet I’d learned to live “high off the hog” with my own earnings. I also had no problem providing our boys with the best of everything. I’d unconsciously passed along my desire for the finer things and brand snobbery to them. Looking back, surely it was my way to ease the guilt I felt from a workaholic lifestyle and far too much work travel.

So just like that…it was gone. The money. The travel. Trips to the mall. Louis Vuitton, Burberry and Nordstrom. Poof…it vanished in a second. As I sat in my lonely home while unemployed the material items that once ruled my world haunted me. Left me feeling empty and sad. I’d worked so hard to gather these things. Yet now, they meant nothing.

What I didn’t realize was how happy I became by the little things in life. Learning how to cook…well attempting to learn how to cook and spending time alone to discover the person deep inside that I used to be and running to deal with my stress. The happy, loving, shy person who laughed at life was back. Like an onion, the layers of attitude and arrogance peeled away. The person God intended me to be was there. And I know now that God intended me to find her again.

But the miracle came when my oldest son Owen was rubbing his swollen feat one afternoon. I could tell that he was in pain. “Honey, what’s the matter?” I asked. “My feet hurt, Mom,” he said quietly. I’d just bought him a pair a few months ago and he’d already grown out of them. He knew that the purchase of those shoes was difficult on our budget. He wasn’t going to tell me he needed another pair. I’d been running for months with a pair of shoes with holes in the bottom of the sole. “Mom, I don’t need new shoes…you do,” he said sadly. My heart sunk. “Yes you do, honey. We’ll be okay,” I told him.

That afternoon we went to the discount store to purchase him some inexpensive shoes. I could tell he still felt badly about the purchase. That evening he sat next to on the couch and gave me a huge hug. “Mom, I love you,” he said. Then he pulled out a bank of quarters. “Mom, I’ve been saving change for a few years. I think there is enough here to buy you a new pair of running shoes,” he said. My eyes welled with tears. “Let’s buy your shoes tomorrow,” he hugged harder. “Thank you, honey. We will,” I wept quietly. Just one small example of the act of kindness can feel like a miracle for a lifetime.

Welcome Bosco. Newest member of the Grayson Family.

For several years my husband Jon has begged me to have another child. He is the best Dad in the entire world and loves his boys more than anything. I and numerous doctors, on the other hand didn’t think it was such a good idea for me to carry another child. It took several attempts and a long, long time for me to have my youngest son Eli, so I just couldn’t handle the likely disappointment of trying to have another child. Instead Jon felt we should adopt a child from another country. A wonderful child that could have a happy life in America with a family who would love him or her with all of their heart. And we would have. Yet, something in my heart told me to wait.

I know now that ‘the something’ was an illness that would consume our lives. And it did. When Eli was eight, he was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. It was a disease that would turn our family upside down and consume most of our free time for years to come. And, for Eli’s entire life. I took a year off of work, thanks to the poor economy and a great severance package from my employer. This time provided me with the opportunity to learn the ‘ins and outs’ of parenting a child with T1. I was able to take the months off of work to train to become a nutritionist, biochemist and psychiatrist…at least for my son. My own psyche was more than bit messed up…but that’s another story for another day.

After a beautiful year off of work, I was able to learn how to care for my diabetic son and obtain a life changing insulin pump. The pump is a beautiful invention. Thank you Medtronic for all you do for my son!!! The pump gave me the confidence I needed to go back to work full time. Even though the midnight and three am blood sugar checks did not go away, I felt that my son was safe and the pump gave him and me the independence that we needed to go on with life.

Two and one half years later, I read about a remarkable organization that trained dogs to become DAD’s, Diabetic Alert Dogs. Strangely, Jon and Eli met a DAD pug when they were visiting family in San Francisco this summer. When they mentioned the Pug, I immediately researched the possibility of obtaining a DAD for Eli. We adore Pugs. So yesterday, for Eli’s birthday, we purchashed a lovely black pug for him. His name is Bosco Amica “Brave Friend”. He is a spunky little eight week old Pug with lots of energy and personality. We will love him as one of the family. Most importantly, we will train him methodically for the next two years to learn how to alert us when Eli has hypoglycemia, life threatening low blood sugar. Through scent training Bosco will become familiar with Eli’s ‘highs and lows’ and alert him to test his blood sugar. If Eli is unresponsive he will bark. It will take some time to train Bosco, but he will be an integral part of our family for years to come.

Although we never had that third child that Jon wanted so badly, we will have an incredibly happy life with a new baby, our DAD pug. Welcome dear Bosco to our family. We will love you dearly and you will love us even more!!!