I have been very fortunate in my life that I have not often had to deal with the deaths of close family members. That is certainly not the case for many people.
The first major experience I had with death was my maternal grandfather. I was 10 when he was diagnosed with cancer at 62 (I think) and quickly deteriorated over the holiday season, and ultimately died a couple of days before Christmas. The experience was a lot of firsts: first extended time around a hospital, first time I remember seeing my mom cry (she's not much of a crier), first feelings of loss.
My mom was way overwhelmed at the time, of course. She had a one year old (who barely slept), a seven-year-old and a ten-year-old. Her beloved father was dying and she had to watch it happening, trying to be supportive of her mother and brothers and get to the hospital regularly despite all of us needing her time. (I get this more now than I ever did then!) It scared me to see her be vulnerable. I don't think I saw it much before then, which is why it has always stood out so clearly from that time.
In learning to deal with the onslaught of new emotions, I decided to follow whatever my dad was doing. It seemed easier than trying to jump into what my mom was doing. When we visited the hospital, I don't remember much. I know I would follow my dad out to the hallway and wait there while everyone else talked and said goodbyes and I love yous in the room. Plus it was nice to avoid seeing someone I love change so much physically and be in so much pain. I tried to emulate my dad's more passive and (in my understanding) less emotional response. I tried very hard not to cry, not to be needy. In retrospect, my dad was probably pretty depressed at the time and therefore even less of an example for me to follow. But how do you realize that as a kid?
I didn't do much grieving for my grandpa at the time, avoiding as much talking and experiencing as possible. I might not even have gone to the funeral. That's sort of vague in my memory. One thing I took was a memory of someone telling me that my grandpa said he was ready to die, but regretted that he wouldn't get to see me grow up. Not even sure if that was real, but it has always meant a lot to me. And, of course, I wish he could have been around longer to be a part of our lives, too.
This set the tone for my few other experiences with death.
My paternal grandmother died when I was 19. She was 75 or so, I think. I was very, very close to her. We spent lots of time together and I believe we always were kind of alike. I admired her, loved her and loved to be with her. She's practically sainted in our family, but we probably can't say that because we aren't Catholic. :)
I was in my second semester away at college when she got sicker and it became clear that she might die soon. My family had been having a hard few years my last years of high school and into college. I didn't want to be home because I was so tired of the emotional drain. I got the call from my mom that my grandma had died. I mostly remember being numb. Maybe crying a little by myself.
When I arrived at the funeral home, I saw my grandma's body in the casket and had that jolt of revulsion, sadness, loss that hits when you see the shell of someone who meant so much to you and they are not there anymore. Shortly after that, my grandfather came in and I saw him stand over her body. They had been divorced for my whole life. Their contact was quite limited over the years. The look on his face when he saw the woman he had loved and lived with and experienced so much with, even if it was years before, I will never forget. It was full of regret (or some form of that), love and, I think, fear. Like looking at his own mortality.
The funeral was hard because I had determined to not deal with it. I've always hated crying and needing things. Especially in front of others. And I took it to extremes. The day of the funeral, I did everything I could to be distracted. I didn't even sit with my family during the service. Choosing instead to sit with my maternal cousin (so it wasn't his grandma who had died) in the back of the room. I looked away and desperately tried to ignore everything everyone said about my grandma and their feelings so it wouldn't break me. There was a part of me that knew too much emotion might cause a total breakdown.
That refusal to deal, to grieve, caused the whole grief process to linger for years and years. My sadness and sense of loss actually increased for a couple of years.
Less than a year after my grandma's death, my paternal grandfather died. To be blunt, I hated my grandfather. He was a bad person. He hurt his family, his friends and just about everyone else, in his dogged pursuit of his own desires. I knew he was a broken person with a rough, loveless upbringing. But it was hard to let that matter to me when the evidence of how he deeply wounded some of the people who have mattered most in my life (my dad, my grandma) and the stories of how he continued to victimize his friends and seemingly everyone else he came into contact with were practically impossible for a justice-minded girl like me to overlook.
God dealt with my hatred until I could finally say that I loved him, even though I never liked him. But I can say pretty honestly that I didn't feel much grief when he died. We had memorial service for him. I don't know if I ever even cried, unless maybe for my dad's loss of both his parents within a year.
And that was the last family loss I experienced. It was in the year 2000.
Until yesterday. Yesterday my dad's brother, my uncle, the only other member of the Schmitt family outside of my dad and us still living, died from a short but difficult...I don't know what to call it, "battle" isn't quite right, maybe "attack" of cancer.
And now I am going to, for the first time, really, experience grief. Let myself feel it and have it. It's time.
June 18, 2013
Happy Father's Day
I'm a couple days late with this one, but I've driven close to 900 miles back and forth all over the Chicagoland area, and to Ohio and back, and Indiana and back. All in the last 10 days!
But I still want to say a thank you to two important dads in my life. My dad and me, circa 1983-85:
He's worked very hard to be a wonderful Dad to his three girls. Teaching us to be humble, work hard, apologize for mistakes, love others, love God and never stop learning. He demonstrates all the time what it means to take on the hard parts of life and handle them with grace and strength, no matter how weak you may feel. He has shown that it is possible to rise above illnesses and the bad parenting example he had and be better because you choose to be, and choose to let God lead you when you don't know what to do yourself. I'm thankful beyond words for his love and example and support and humor and so many, many other things.
The other is, of course, my Baby Daddy, circa 2011:
I'm SO glad that my boys have him as their father! Jim's thoughtfulness, love, practical care for others, dedication, loyalty and ability to see others for who they are (rather than what they pretend to be or what he pretends they are) makes me so excited for my boys' future. Their personalities mixed with his example will, I believe, make for some way awesome men! Jim's partnership as a parent is a much needed foil to my personality and I'm so glad we get to strive and pray and work together to raise these crazy wonderful kids.
Thanks to both of them for all they are, will be, have been, and hope to be! I love them both more than I could ever express.
May 28, 2013
Classicfied
I love classic literature. It's my favorite thing to read and usually the most fulfilling type of reading that I do. I always have a list of "need to reads" to draw from.
My latest read was Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
We've had it on our bookshelf for a few years now, but I just got around to reading it. The decision was spurred by a classic literary criticism book (from the 70's) called The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination by Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar that I recently read. As an English major, I also love literary criticism. My brain actually naturally critiques the things I read and makes connections. English teachers and classes just helped me do it better. This book was a fascinating read and made we want to read or re-read all the books they wrote about and referenced.
I started re-reading Paradise Lost by John Milton, since it is one of the main reference materials that the criticism uses, but that's pretty dense reading so it's slow going. Then I picked up Frankenstein.
And, as usually happens when I read literature, I was surprised by the reality of a story I've "heard" and seen depicted before. Movies and retellings can never capture all the minutia and layers in the original. And sometimes they completely change the whole point of the plot!
Frankenstein begins with a series of letters written by a young adventurer named Robert Walton on his way to the Arctic to explore and hopefully discover things no other man has ever found. He writes to his sister about his plans and thoughts. A few letters in, he relates a fantastic tale of seeing a giant man on a dog sled in the middle of no where, and shortly after that, picking up a man named Victor Frankenstein who was pursuing the giant man and is near death. Frankenstein tells his tale to Walton and Walton relates it to his sister.
The basic plot, if you don't know, is that a young science student figures out the secret to creating human life and makes a man from elements of corpses. He brings the "man" to life, then immediately realizes that everything he has done is a bad idea and he never thought about any consequences, so he leaves. The "monster" then is left to fend for himself, having no knowledge of the world or himself. He struggles with what it means to be moral when he is met with violence from every person who has ever seen him, then struggles with hatred for the man who created him. The "monster" decides to get revenge on Frankenstein and most of the book is a sort of cat and mouse game between the two.
I'm always intrigued by the layers of separation that 19th century writers (particularly female writers) employ to tell their stories. There was a desire to give credibility to their work so they used male narrators, letter writing or third parties to tell tales that wouldn't be considered appropriate for a "proper" woman to write. The desperate acts of Frankenstein and his monster were quite shocking to readers at the time. Even now, without the explicit "horror" descriptions that a modern book might have, the tale is hideous to contemplate.
That fact that it was written by a young woman who had recently gotten married (without parental approval) and had a young child is even more interesting. I think the movies usually give off a very male vibe. They showcase man's hubris and god complex, make you think about the nature of morality and what it means to be a monster, or a monster's creator. But to think of it in terms of women, of mothers, can make it pretty mind blowing.
There are questions of hubris and god complexes in the text, but those subjects take on a different feel when you think about it from a woman's point of view. We do create human beings. We are responsible for life and (in a way) for how our "creations" turn out. Mothers are often blamed for the deeds of their children, or for not being a good mother and therefore ruining a child's life and/or future. And at the same time, a woman who becomes pregnant goes through her own metamorphosis. Bodies change shape, act differently, are beyond our control, scare us because we don't know what to expect from ourselves, or the little being inside of us.
At the same time, women have historically been seen AS monsters. Men consider them temptresses, devils, immoral, an "other" who is unpredictable and foreign. So you can see a lot in the characters of the "monster" and Frankenstein.
Frankenstein is not a difficult read, nor is it very long. But the text gives a lot for the reader to think about. I highly recommend it and thoroughly enjoyed it myself!
My latest read was Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
We've had it on our bookshelf for a few years now, but I just got around to reading it. The decision was spurred by a classic literary criticism book (from the 70's) called The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination by Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar that I recently read. As an English major, I also love literary criticism. My brain actually naturally critiques the things I read and makes connections. English teachers and classes just helped me do it better. This book was a fascinating read and made we want to read or re-read all the books they wrote about and referenced.
I started re-reading Paradise Lost by John Milton, since it is one of the main reference materials that the criticism uses, but that's pretty dense reading so it's slow going. Then I picked up Frankenstein.
And, as usually happens when I read literature, I was surprised by the reality of a story I've "heard" and seen depicted before. Movies and retellings can never capture all the minutia and layers in the original. And sometimes they completely change the whole point of the plot!
Frankenstein begins with a series of letters written by a young adventurer named Robert Walton on his way to the Arctic to explore and hopefully discover things no other man has ever found. He writes to his sister about his plans and thoughts. A few letters in, he relates a fantastic tale of seeing a giant man on a dog sled in the middle of no where, and shortly after that, picking up a man named Victor Frankenstein who was pursuing the giant man and is near death. Frankenstein tells his tale to Walton and Walton relates it to his sister.
The basic plot, if you don't know, is that a young science student figures out the secret to creating human life and makes a man from elements of corpses. He brings the "man" to life, then immediately realizes that everything he has done is a bad idea and he never thought about any consequences, so he leaves. The "monster" then is left to fend for himself, having no knowledge of the world or himself. He struggles with what it means to be moral when he is met with violence from every person who has ever seen him, then struggles with hatred for the man who created him. The "monster" decides to get revenge on Frankenstein and most of the book is a sort of cat and mouse game between the two.
I'm always intrigued by the layers of separation that 19th century writers (particularly female writers) employ to tell their stories. There was a desire to give credibility to their work so they used male narrators, letter writing or third parties to tell tales that wouldn't be considered appropriate for a "proper" woman to write. The desperate acts of Frankenstein and his monster were quite shocking to readers at the time. Even now, without the explicit "horror" descriptions that a modern book might have, the tale is hideous to contemplate.
That fact that it was written by a young woman who had recently gotten married (without parental approval) and had a young child is even more interesting. I think the movies usually give off a very male vibe. They showcase man's hubris and god complex, make you think about the nature of morality and what it means to be a monster, or a monster's creator. But to think of it in terms of women, of mothers, can make it pretty mind blowing.
There are questions of hubris and god complexes in the text, but those subjects take on a different feel when you think about it from a woman's point of view. We do create human beings. We are responsible for life and (in a way) for how our "creations" turn out. Mothers are often blamed for the deeds of their children, or for not being a good mother and therefore ruining a child's life and/or future. And at the same time, a woman who becomes pregnant goes through her own metamorphosis. Bodies change shape, act differently, are beyond our control, scare us because we don't know what to expect from ourselves, or the little being inside of us.
At the same time, women have historically been seen AS monsters. Men consider them temptresses, devils, immoral, an "other" who is unpredictable and foreign. So you can see a lot in the characters of the "monster" and Frankenstein.
Frankenstein is not a difficult read, nor is it very long. But the text gives a lot for the reader to think about. I highly recommend it and thoroughly enjoyed it myself!
May 18, 2013
They gone!
For a couple of months now, K's teeth have been loose. All four of the front teeth have been a little loose, with the top left and bottom left the most wiggly. K's been waiting for a long time to lose teeth. He knows a couple of other kids who already have lost some, including his cousin, so he's been anxious to join in.
Almost daily I've been checking on the progress with him. Wiggling the teeth and discussing how they feel and how much longer it might take, etc. On Tuesday I did the same and I made my prediction that the top left tooth would come out first. It was the loosest. So much so that it sort of falls to the side and now he has a little gap on one side that wasn't there before.
But, you never can tell how these things will go!
I was baby-sitting my nephew and all three boys and I were in the van (still getting used to the fact that we HAVE a van!) on the way to pick up Jim from work. K and my nephew were sitting in the back seat together, laughing and playing. Then K made a little exclamation and told me his tooth was out. Since's he's a six-year-old boy, I had to ask a few times to make sure he wasn't joking!
To condense the story, K was pulling on a tag on one of his toys, trying to pull it out with his teeth. In the process, BOTH of his bottom teeth popped out! One landed in his lap and the other we still haven't been able to find. We were in the car so it should be there, but we can't find it because it's so little.
K was elated the rest of the day, and is still enjoying the feel.
He put the one tooth under his pillow and got his first tooth money! We actually don't do the tooth fairy thing (or santa, the Easter bunny, etc.). I don't think I've ever mentioned that before so I might do a post just on that aspect of our lives soon. So, K knew he'd be getting money from us. But we still had him put the tooth in a little tooth fairy pillow that I had as a kid and that my mom gave to him, and he got to be surprised by how much he got. Jim made two dollar bills into origami shapes and then we gave him two quarters also, since he loves quarters.
It's hard to know how much to give in this day and age! I've heard that most parents give a lot more now than our parents gave. Since he lost two teeth, and they were his first, a dollar per tooth plus a bonus quarter, seemed good. I would be interested to hear how other parents are handling this though, money-wise.
So now our boy looks like this:
Almost daily I've been checking on the progress with him. Wiggling the teeth and discussing how they feel and how much longer it might take, etc. On Tuesday I did the same and I made my prediction that the top left tooth would come out first. It was the loosest. So much so that it sort of falls to the side and now he has a little gap on one side that wasn't there before.
But, you never can tell how these things will go!
I was baby-sitting my nephew and all three boys and I were in the van (still getting used to the fact that we HAVE a van!) on the way to pick up Jim from work. K and my nephew were sitting in the back seat together, laughing and playing. Then K made a little exclamation and told me his tooth was out. Since's he's a six-year-old boy, I had to ask a few times to make sure he wasn't joking!
To condense the story, K was pulling on a tag on one of his toys, trying to pull it out with his teeth. In the process, BOTH of his bottom teeth popped out! One landed in his lap and the other we still haven't been able to find. We were in the car so it should be there, but we can't find it because it's so little.
K was elated the rest of the day, and is still enjoying the feel.
He put the one tooth under his pillow and got his first tooth money! We actually don't do the tooth fairy thing (or santa, the Easter bunny, etc.). I don't think I've ever mentioned that before so I might do a post just on that aspect of our lives soon. So, K knew he'd be getting money from us. But we still had him put the tooth in a little tooth fairy pillow that I had as a kid and that my mom gave to him, and he got to be surprised by how much he got. Jim made two dollar bills into origami shapes and then we gave him two quarters also, since he loves quarters.
It's hard to know how much to give in this day and age! I've heard that most parents give a lot more now than our parents gave. Since he lost two teeth, and they were his first, a dollar per tooth plus a bonus quarter, seemed good. I would be interested to hear how other parents are handling this though, money-wise.
So now our boy looks like this:
May 9, 2013
Turning 3, Buggie Style
I'm getting quite behind, obviously, but S turned three on the 21st of April. It was fun to see him finally enjoy a party and opening gifts. He sang happy birthday to himself all day and was very excited to have people coming over. He ran around, playing and talking with everyone. When it was gift opening time he didn't cry or get overly distracted by all the attention and gifts. He actually had fun! Yay for growing up!
We decided on a bug theme. In part because I found caterpillar invitations on sale in the fall and in part because S does love anything bug/animal related. I don't do it up super big for two and three birthdays because I know the kids don't get much out of it yet. So I mostly worked with what I have and went simple and cheap.
We decided on a bug theme. In part because I found caterpillar invitations on sale in the fall and in part because S does love anything bug/animal related. I don't do it up super big for two and three birthdays because I know the kids don't get much out of it yet. So I mostly worked with what I have and went simple and cheap.
Table decor was a butterfly net and butterfly balloon (from the Dollar Store) in a vase. I got polka dot napkins and mixed them with plain white napkins. Cups and plates were red, green and white, also from the Dollar Store. I thought ants on a log would be a fun appetizer. Easy, well-loved and yummy.
We made a caterpillar out of green balloons taped to the wall. Have I mentioned how much I love having an artist husband to draw things like caterpillar faces?
And decorate our baby's gift! (The gift was The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle)
Opening presents.
Uncle Steve blowing bubbles for the kids (the neighbors were all outside and happy to join in).
S stole the bubbles for himself. He was the birthday boy!
Jim is the photographer at most of our events, since he's better at it and actually likes to do it. I don't think he's uploaded his picture yet, though, so these are all I have. I'll add photos of the cupcakes adorned with plastic bugs another time.
April 15, 2013
Quick catch up and pictures
What we've been up to lately:
Park time. Two weeks ago it was finally a little nicer out so we had fun being outside for a few hours.
Park time. Two weeks ago it was finally a little nicer out so we had fun being outside for a few hours.
S found his favorite toy, Larry Boy from Veggie Tales, that had been missing for a few weeks. It was in the stroller, which we hadn't used because of weather/sickness.
Inspecting K's space.
Deciding to go another way...
Little brother attack!
Toilet seats make great hats. At least it was clean!
Lego maze. He used a marble (or two) and tipped the board to get it into the middle.
We finally moved S to a bigger bed, the bottom bunk. No more crib!!!! It's ridiculous how much more space we have in the room now.
We played Yahtzee to practice math. K got two Yahtzees in a row and beat me by over 150 points!
Each week in church, S does a craft of some sort. Neither of my boys has ever been much for group craft activities, which I have to say makes me a little proud. (I'm not much into crafts either.) I knew immediately that this was S's craft for the day because of all the extra little ink marks all over. The other kids' pages had a perfectly placed handprint near the middle of the page. That's just not S's style.
A few of my AWANA students from my team, getting recognized for saying verses or finishing their books. It's so cool to see how hard they work and all they learn about the Bible! Only two weeks left of AWANA. It was fun, but I'll be glad to have my Wednesday nights back for a couple of months!
April 6, 2013
End of an era
Five months after Jim and I were married, we bought a 2001 Honda Civic with 5100 miles on it. It had been a dealer car, so we got a discount. Jim had researched and we knew it would be a reliable, long term car with good resale value. And it was!
We hit 200,000 miles about a month ago. There was a semi-absurd amount of pride we felt in that milestone. Even though we knew that Hondas can go to 300,000 prettily easily, it was still a sense of accomplishment.
Our tiny little four door had gone on road trips to New York, Georgia, Wisconsin and Maine. It drove us to our new homes in Colorado and Ohio. We made many, many trips back and forth from Ohio and Illinois. Both of our boys came home from the hospital in it. That Civic took us to work, church, family gatherings, emergency rooms, doctors visits, on dates, shopping, on mini-trips as a couple and later as family. Almost the whole history of our little family was tied into that car. We loved it well. (Though we never named it. Could never figure out something appropriate.)
When we bought our Vintage Plum four-door (in a nine hour car dealership marathon), we had high hopes for it. Much prayer was expended in the beginning; prayers for safety, a car that wouldn't need to spend much time at a mechanic, prayers for protection from accidents. Our families both had many bad cars through the years and both of us had old lemons as our first cars. So we vowed to always be grateful for a car that started every morning and worked well enough to get us where we wanted to go.
After twelve years and 200,000 miles, we are still profoundly grateful that God answered all those prayers and more. We did our best to take care of the Civic but we were by no means perfectly prompt with all the maintenance. Yet we were never in an accident and never had any major problems with it.
Despite all its wonders, a four-door Civic is not an ideal car for a family of four. Two carseats in that backseat was not fun, for the kids or us. No power locks and not a lot of storage space made even trips to the mall difficult, trying to maneuver a stroller in and out of the trunk and getting the kids in and out, circling back and forth around the car. Plus it was practically impossible for us to travel anywhere with other people. On Easter, for example, we picked up my grandma to bring her to Easter dinner at my parents' house. In order to do this, I had to climb in between two carseats and wedge my expanding hips into a tiny space with no wiggle room, drape my arms over the backs of kids and carseats and try to keep my legs from falling asleep for the 15 minute ride. Not exactly an ideal situation. But the last of its kind!
Thus, we've had it in the back of our minds to get a new, larger vehicle and sell our dear little Civic. And this week we did.
We are the proud owners of a 2004 Toyota Sienna mini-van! From seating for "five" to seating for seven. A back row that folds down completely so we can transport stuff or pack it full for camping! Leather seats! Heating and A/C that adjusts for each side and the back! Screens on the back windows for the boys! Room to spread out comfortably! Space for other people to ride with us! We are still pinching ourselves.
We're all itching for a road trip now. A new chapter in our lives is demarcated. April 2013 is the beginning of a new era for us. I wonder what adventures we'll have in this car?
We hit 200,000 miles about a month ago. There was a semi-absurd amount of pride we felt in that milestone. Even though we knew that Hondas can go to 300,000 prettily easily, it was still a sense of accomplishment.
Our tiny little four door had gone on road trips to New York, Georgia, Wisconsin and Maine. It drove us to our new homes in Colorado and Ohio. We made many, many trips back and forth from Ohio and Illinois. Both of our boys came home from the hospital in it. That Civic took us to work, church, family gatherings, emergency rooms, doctors visits, on dates, shopping, on mini-trips as a couple and later as family. Almost the whole history of our little family was tied into that car. We loved it well. (Though we never named it. Could never figure out something appropriate.)
When we bought our Vintage Plum four-door (in a nine hour car dealership marathon), we had high hopes for it. Much prayer was expended in the beginning; prayers for safety, a car that wouldn't need to spend much time at a mechanic, prayers for protection from accidents. Our families both had many bad cars through the years and both of us had old lemons as our first cars. So we vowed to always be grateful for a car that started every morning and worked well enough to get us where we wanted to go.
After twelve years and 200,000 miles, we are still profoundly grateful that God answered all those prayers and more. We did our best to take care of the Civic but we were by no means perfectly prompt with all the maintenance. Yet we were never in an accident and never had any major problems with it.
Despite all its wonders, a four-door Civic is not an ideal car for a family of four. Two carseats in that backseat was not fun, for the kids or us. No power locks and not a lot of storage space made even trips to the mall difficult, trying to maneuver a stroller in and out of the trunk and getting the kids in and out, circling back and forth around the car. Plus it was practically impossible for us to travel anywhere with other people. On Easter, for example, we picked up my grandma to bring her to Easter dinner at my parents' house. In order to do this, I had to climb in between two carseats and wedge my expanding hips into a tiny space with no wiggle room, drape my arms over the backs of kids and carseats and try to keep my legs from falling asleep for the 15 minute ride. Not exactly an ideal situation. But the last of its kind!
Thus, we've had it in the back of our minds to get a new, larger vehicle and sell our dear little Civic. And this week we did.
We are the proud owners of a 2004 Toyota Sienna mini-van! From seating for "five" to seating for seven. A back row that folds down completely so we can transport stuff or pack it full for camping! Leather seats! Heating and A/C that adjusts for each side and the back! Screens on the back windows for the boys! Room to spread out comfortably! Space for other people to ride with us! We are still pinching ourselves.
We're all itching for a road trip now. A new chapter in our lives is demarcated. April 2013 is the beginning of a new era for us. I wonder what adventures we'll have in this car?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)