Fork

I sometimes feel that I have to remind myself often that Caden is gone, even though I feel like it is a never-ending thought in my mind.  While making dinner last night, getting the table set and the last preparations in place, I counted out seven forks to place on top of the napkins I'd just put on our placemats.  I had counted six napkins just moments seconds before, but forks, I counted seven.  After the last napkin had a fork on it, I looked at the one in my hand, perplexed.  And it hit me anew-- I had inadvertently counted one for Caden.  It felt as if I stabbed that fork into my own gut.  I double over and started to cry.  I want there to be a need for seven forks.

I hate having to remind myself that he's gone.  But if I don't, this happens.  "Don't count seven when you get in the car."  "Don't count seven when you're making sure you're all together."  "Don't count seven forks, plates, bowls, etc."  "Don't..."  "Don't..."  "Don't..." Six, not seven.  Six, not seven. Six, never seven. 

It's hard to know how to move on from all of this if I always have to remind myself and remember that it has happened.  It hurts to remember, it hurts to forget.  It's hard to not think about Caden as much, giving more of my thoughts to the kids that are still in my arms, when I have to remind myself about him constantly.  Because it's those times that I do things out of habit that hurt so much when reality becomes starkly obvious: I will never need seven forks again. 

Hug

I woke yesterday with very different emotions warring in my mind and heart.  My first thought was, "Five months.  Today is Five Months."  I let it wash over me, like I knew it would, enveloping me in the harsh reality-- My son has been gone for five months!  Can that even be real?  But then I remembered the dream I had awaken from and couldn't help but feel joy.  Joy won over the remainder of my emotions for the day.

I have been waking between 5:30-6:30am for many weeks now, no matter what time I went to bed or how terribly I had slept.  Most days I wish for more sleep, but cannot get it.  I always have a feeling start at the crown of my head, zinging down to the tips of my toes, waking me fully to consciousness much earlier than I would like.  My heart starts beating fast, inevitably making me feel like I have to run.  And so I do.  I go and go and go for the rest of the day.  But yesterday, I rolled over at 7:30am and remember thinking, "I am so glad I am still tired enough to sleep."  I'm even more grateful for the sleep, because I dreamed of Caden.  Specifically, Caden hugging me deep.

I recognized cognitively that I was dreaming.  I knew as I "watched" the scenes play out that I was dreaming.  I was in this weird place of wakeful dreaming; somewhat guiding the dream, yet feeling like I was actually watching a sort-of movie, too.  Many times this is where I have been known to talk, walk, scream, or stand on the bed.  I'm telling you, I am one weird sleeper.  I know it, but I just can't change it.

Caden was in the hospital getting an infusion of an experimental drug.  He was expected to come home later that night, but a fever started soon after the drug started.  There was the normal feelings of anxiety, frustration, and disappointment that always came when this happened in real life.  I knew I was dreaming, but I still felt the feelings as if it was really happening.  I felt like I wanted to really cry, in both the dream and the now.  The dream went on like most dreams do, with scenes changing in a way that doesn't make much sense, yet is completely acceptable in the dream.  How did we get from the hospital to our family room without a car?  Well, we just blinked, of course.  Totally normal.

The "day" passed in what felt like 10 minutes (which probably meant it was like 30 seconds in real life), and all of the sudden we were hugging our kids for bed.  But when it came time to hug Caden, the feeling and atmosphere of the entire dream changed.  Again, I knew I was dreaming, I recognized that my son had died and that this was, in fact, a dream hug, something that couldn't really be happening, but that hug felt REAL.  And DEEP.  And WONDERFUL.

Caden had a habit of giving a hug, kissing a cheek, and then giving another hug.  In this dream hug, Caden gave a deep hug, pulled back just a tiny bit, and then hugged me again, harder, as if he didn't really want to let me go.  I tucked my nose into the base of his neck and just hung on, hugging him back just as deep.  I did not want to let go either.  The strong emotions of love and longing woke me immediately.  My arms felt heavy, like I really had used them for the hug.  I miss holding that boy, feeling him in my arms.  But I only felt Joy, because, for those few moments, it felt REAL!

Oh, son, how I miss you!

Five months.

Be still, my broken heart.

Cuter?

Does it get any cuter?!

"Water" bed.

When your son asks for a "cookie cake," and you remember that his favorite cookies of all time are store bought, you know you're about to kill it in the birthday cake category of the celebration!

 BOOM!  Birthday. Cake. Magic!

I find it so funny that he thought so hard on his wish, seeing as he helped us order his gift on Amazon a few days earlier.  And, true to Brennon's birthday, we celebrated on the 28th and got his gift on the 1st.  Two days of fun for the boy with no birthday.

While heading to school on Thursday, he asked when I thought his gift would arrive.  I told him it would either be delivered when he was at school or with our regular mail service at 6:30pm.  He started to whisper-chant his prayer, "Please let it come early.  Please let it come early."  It was waiting for him when he got home.

A 6' kayak of his very one.  

He will still have to spend time with the family on our boat, but he'll have his own to play around with after his allotted torture time.  (I sure hope he conquers more of his fear this year.)  He's wanted one of these for two years now.  And now he has one of his very own!

One of the hardest things with winter birthdays/holidays is receiving summer toys.  Bike, roller blades, swimming tail (Shelby got one for Christmas), kayak, etc...  Not to worry, he's found a great use for it until warmer weather comes to stay....

Ten.  Ten!!  How can that be possible?  Maybe for just a little bit, Brennon can be The Boy With the New "Water" Bed.

MomDot.com

We are super excited (and a little nervous, if we're being completely honest) to announce:

It's Official!!!

We Bought a Website

I briefly mentioned in a post on Feb. 9 the forming and founding of 77 Ventures, LLC. Well, today, our company purchased... 

MomDot.com

Please bookmark this website, and visit as often as possible. There, you will find DIY tutorials for crafts, recipes, and much, much more.

Please Like and Follow us on:
Pinterest, www.pinterest.com/momdot/
Twitter, https://twitter.com/MomDot
Facebook, www.facebook.com/momdot/
Instagram, www.instagram.com/momdotofficial/

As you can imagine when purchasing an existing website, there is a lot of work and updating required to make it our own.  We will be updating the About page with my information within the next few days. The previous owner, Trisha, has done a fantastic job-- I have some big shoes to fill.

Let the online adventure begin!

Ideas

I got texts from both Ashlee and Danielle, asking when we were going to celebrate Brennon's birthday so they could both call him.  That is one of the biggest reasons I don't like his birthday-- no one knows when to celebrate on the years that don't include Leap Day.  His birthday, February 29th, is both the last day of February and the day after February 28th.  Some people send their birthday good wishes on February 28th, the last day of February, others March 1st, the day after the 28th.  Since his birthday is in the month of February for real, I think I'll just say that we'll always celebrate it in February.  But Keilie had a better idea yesterday while we were at Denny's for Brennon's birthday dinner.

"How about his birthday starts at Noon on February 28th and ends at Noon on March 1st!"

And I thought, "Hm.  This girl has ideas.  She's not just good for my manual slave labor after all."

Birthday Brennon

Happy 10th Birthday, Brennon Wayne!!!

 

To the boy from the hardest pregnancy with the most unique birth story and birthDAY, the chunkiest baby thighs and cheeks that now is the skinniest nourished kid I have ever seen, the most difficult first year to the easiest child thereafter, the peacemaker and truth-teller, the boy with the kindest eyes and most expressive stories:  Happy Birthday, Brennon!!!

p.s. I want you to always remember that this year you were excited to tell everyone that you are two-and-a-half.  Because, technically, you are. 

Butch

When I was in Kindergarten, a chunk of my hair at the very center crown of my head kept falling into my face as I bent over my homework.  It bothered me so much, I grabbed a pair of scissors, whacked the offending chunk to the scalp, and finished my homework.  Problem solved.

Until my mom did my hair the next morning.  She gasped.  I calmly told her what I'd done.  And lived with my spiky, ugly hair as it grew back.  Lesson learned.  Don't butch your hair, no matter how much it gets in the way of your homework.  Period.

A few days ago, Shelby came down from showering with a hat on her wet hair.  I told her that she shouldn't wear the hat while her hair dried, that it was going to make a crease around her whole head, that it would make her hair look greasy faster, thus having mom make you shower sooner, but that it was her choice.  She kept the hat on that night.  And pulled her hair back the next day.  And the next day.  I thought it was just because she'd been wearing the hat, and was realizing the mistake of always wearing it.  Nope.  It was to hide this...

"I had a big snarl that wouldn't come out, so while I was in the shower, I cut it off with my pocket knife."  Hacked it off, more like it.

This girl and butching her hair!!  Super grateful it's not this again...

But, for real.  I am still in shock that she hasn't learned from the years and years of conversations about cutting your own hair!  There's a difference between three-years-old, Kindergarten, and Fifth grade.  I'm just saying.  Yowsa!

Miracle

The kids wanted to help cure Mira of her fear of the laundry basket, so they've been working with her a little at a time.  It was fun watching them, and her, last night.  Their tones were so cute-- they wanted this victory of teaching her so, so much.

But it didn't quite go as planned.  Until Randy decided to join them.

She has always responded a bit better to him.  When he first brought her home, after the five hour drive alone with her hearing only his voice, she was a bit nervous around us all.  Understandable given her timidity and that we were pretty loud in our excitement and surprise.  She plastered herself near him for a good hour.  From that time forward, she showed clear preference for Caden.  Now, she gives us all our own time of feeling like we're her favorite.  But Randy can get her to do most anything.

 We cheered and cheered the first time she even touched the basket.  Look at how adorable that face is as she waited for the small treat.  My goodness, how we love this dog.  How we need this dog right now!

 I'm fairly certain the entire city of Richland thought we were cheering a Gold Medal, our cheers were so deafening when she finally got the treat herself.  Gold Medal Moment, for sure.

We clapped, we jumped, we screamed, we danced.  She did her cute victory whine with a ball clutched in her mouth, wagging her tail while pacing and nudging us for approval.  It felt electric in our home, so joyous were we.  In our excitement, sure that she was "cured," Tyson threw her ball in the basket.  And she would not even go close to the basket.  And we laughed and laughed, pointing our fingers and jeering at our "failure dog."  But in our hearts, this is an endearing nickname.  Because, without her being a "failure" she never would have come to us.  She may not be the service dog she was bred to be used for, but she provides us with the exact services and therapy that we need.  That Caden so desperately needed.  Two years ago February 22nd we found out we were going to get her.  I still cry thinking of the moment we told Caden about her (described here).  This dog truly is a Miracle.  Then.  Now.  Forever.

Purple

In my search for "happiness" this week, I decided I needed some vibrant colors adorning my front door.  Other than the lopsided wreath (which was the best one out of like 50 that I had to choose from at the store!), I was happy with how it turned out.

(Nothing said about it from our nosy neighbor.  Yet. {smirk and a wink})

Yesterday when I woke with a more cheery outlook on life, I realized that I wanted Caden's floral arrangement tied to home a little more. As I was making the bow (little did I know when I was 16 years old that one day my Ben Franklin Crafts employ would be used in such a way), Keilie asked, "So, um, how do you think Caden would feel about purple?"  And I knew-- He wouldn't mind at all.  Because one thing that I know deep in my heart:

My son would do anything to make me happy.

Switch

I woke today with the sense that I was "happy."  I'm not sure what switched between the last two weeks and this morning, but I'm gonna take it and run.  Grief is the weirdest thing.  It's not like I haven't done things that normally bring me "happiness," just that today I can actually feel it.  Nor have I made the decision to just be sad all the time, thinking only of Caden, the horrors we witnessed, the missing.  I've done things normally, yet have felt myself truly, truly sad.  Sad enough to not even be able to talk.  Sad enough to hole up and not do things.  Sad enough to barely even live.  But not today.  Today I feel as if I can. So I will!

Concentrate

I love it when I get to see my kids concentrating on a project.  I love their concentration faces.  I got two such pictures yesterday; one taken by myself just minutes before Tyson's sewing class concluded, the other by a friend teaching Keilie Watercolors at Mutual last night.  Thanks, Maren, for the lesson and the picture.

It was also a Two Shoe Day for the second day in a row.

 Found her like this as I came out of my room to take Keilie to zero hour.  I nearly cried at the sight.  It seems I am constantly in the state of almost crying.  Or flat-out crying.  I'm a mess.

With the other one brought out later in the day.

During the last few days of Caden's life, Mira would do this weird, anxious bark every once in a while, especially if she was shut up in a room with him.  It was like she felt it building, coming out in a bursting anxiety bark.  In fact, it's not even a real bark, more of a whimper/moan/cry.  After his passing, she'd do this bark at random times, jumping up and kind of pacing around for a few seconds, searching.  We commented that it was most likely Caden coming for a visit.  Each time she does this weird bark (started seriously as he was dying), we all say, "Hi, Caden!"  She's done it both days she's brought out his shoes this week.  Maybe Caden can feel my grief strangling me, so he's come to comfort me; it really has been a hard 10 day.  20 weeks, yesterday!  I find comfort in Mira's Shoe Days and anxious bark.  Even if I am only seeing what I want to see.

"Hi, Caden.  I love you, I love you, I love you!"