family – It’s All in Your Head

“You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life.” ~ Rocky Balboa

So, it’s one of these weird ‘things’ that I’m struggling with and obviously a situation for which I have no experience. I have been dating a guy for the last 5 weeks and am crazy about him. But…and there’s always a but…I am feeling a bit addled because of my conflicting emotions.

First, I honestly don’t know what to call this guy. Boyfriend sounds sort of juvenile to me…when I used to say partner about someone, people looked at me askance and asked if I was gay (which always made me think about how in love I am with Lady Gaga😳)…when I say ‘Significant Other’, I think that could be near about everyone in my life since they are all significant to me…and the ‘l’ word (i.e. ‘lover’) makes me gag simply because it was ma’s favorite word and made Terri and I cringe every time we heard it 🤢. We staunchly maintain, even today, that ma never ever ever had sexual relations, much like Clinton’s stance regarding Monica Lewinsky. So, for the sake of brevity, I’ll call this guy ‘the guy’. Easy peasy. 😀

In any case, he’s bringing happiness into my life and he’s doing this during a time when I’m missing ma so much that it physically makes me hurt. And that’s the quandry. I feel like my emotions are a rubber band being pulled in opposite directions and no matter what side I let go of, I’ll feel that stinging snap we’re all so familiar with.

The guy and I have so much fun going out together. We already have a favorite restaurant and special things we like to do. Watching movies with him is a blast…particularly all of the ‘Rocky’s’ since we both know the scripts by heart. And without trying to cause him any disrespect, I will say this: my “Yo Adrian” is just a tad better than his. We’re both fitness nuts (shutty 🙄) and spend tons of time in the gym, plus we can talk for hours and never run out of things to say. But honestly, here’s the thing that makes him stand apart from everyone else I’ve ever been with: his compassion.

After ma died, I was quite taken aback by the fact that O’s dad and my ‘exes’ never reached out to me. Ma treated EVERYONE that Terri and I have loved very well…she was never not kind or generous or supportive. Ma was ‘mother in law’ to O’s dad for 13 years and to motorcycle ex for 10; for them to not acknowledge her was rude and uncalled for. Plus, she always was amazing to men I dated that she pretty much abhorred…simply because I loved them at the time. Terri and I are always saying that ma was truly a class act.

The guy never knew her but has listened to me cry…vent…reminisce. He’s looked at umpteen pictures of her and sat through the stories that are behind all of them. And every single day, he texts me in the morning to see how I slept and if I’m feeling good about the day or not. It’s very different for me to have someone be that concerned about my emotions (in terms of guy…not my family!). One time I was telling him how amazing ma genuinely was and started bawling. After blowing my nose on his t-shirt (which actually makes him even that more attractive to me since it’s my mucus on his workout gear 😐) I apologized for yet another cry session. And here’s what he said: “Kristi, If I were to go into your kitchen and spill some milk, would you be mad? Would it be OK?” I was perplexed by the randomness of this and the thought of him being a ‘bit off’ briefly crossed my mind. I said: “Well of course not…I’d just mop it up with you.” Then he said: “Should I beat myself up over having had an accident?” And I said: “No! It happens to everyone.” And he said: “right.”

He told me how it was OK to ‘spill the milk’ – to break down and to be sad and angry and confused and everything else I’m feeling about my mom. He said that of course it happens and apologies aren’t needed…he just wants to be there to help ‘mop up the spill.’ In other words, he doesn’t want me to ever be sorry for mourning ma. Is he a winner or what? 🙂

But honestly, it’s the start of something new and I do feel guilty when this happens. I realize my situation is different from most relationship ‘starts’ and that I’m walking into something with a heart already shattered, but feeling bad at a time when I would normally feel good in a relationship makes me think I’m doing something ‘wrong’ to him.

However, we have the flip side. He makes me laugh…really laugh…and smile and whistle and hum…all of the things I always used to do before last August. And the problem? Feeling guilty for not being sad all of the time over ma. How can I laugh and joke when ma died? How can I ever allow myself to feel good things when the worst thing in my world has happened? Am I dishonoring ma by having this positive in my life? Am I not grieving for her as deeply as I should?

So no matter what, I feel bad. I feel bad when I’m happy in terms of disrespecting ma…and I feel bad when I’m sad in terms of burdening the guy. It’s a catch 22 at it’s finest. But I also know this, ma wants me happy. She wants Terri happy. In fact, that’s really all she ever wanted in her whole life…for us to know we were loved and that no matter what, she’d be there cheering us on in whatever we chose to do.

I talk to ma every night. Actually, I talk to her throughout the day but nighttime is our special time. After I talk to God, I look out my window and say “Hey ma” (the beginning of all of our phone conversations 😔) and chat about my day, and I swear I can hear her holding up her end of the talk. The loneliness I felt after she passed was horrible and having to grieve alone in my house with only Edward to hug wasn’t easy. So, I started asking her this: “Ma…you’ve always known what’s best for me. If you come across someone that you trust will be good to me, let me know.” I also asked her to get God’s input as well.

After about a month of this, I was compelled to check out a gym I had never even considered going into before. I swooped in the parking lot and was actually wondering why in the hell I was there. It’s more of an ‘old timee’ gym with no fancy frills – just weights, machines, sweat and tears…much like Mick’s gym (that’s a Rocky reference.). It wasn’t me. I like color coordinated walls with matching machines…carpet runners…fancy schmancy locker rooms…and people who look like they stepped out of Shape magazine. Instead I saw real people working out and a camaraderie I had never experienced in any gym before.

Then the man behind the desk asked if he could help me, and when he did this, he smiled. At that moment, I smiled…truly smiled…for the first time since August 2nd. After we’d gotten close, he said something that really resonated with me: he said that I bring him peace (ok ex-partners, quit rolling your eyes in case they freeze that way 🙄). I realized that I was at peace with him too. There are no games. No insecurity. No nervousness. No distrust. For the first time in a very long time, there’s peace within me too.

And maybe that’s why he was the one that entered my life. When ma was dying, she told Terri that she wanted me to be OK and for Terri not to worry. In other words, she wanted us to have peace in our lives. To have contentment. To have security. She wanted us to have exactly what she had always given to us herself. I know Terri has this with Dan and to be experiencing this with the guy is a gift right now.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Confident people don’t hide their flaws; they laugh at them.” ~ Tim S. Glover

So, people tend to make their loved ones into saints after they pass, and I’m hoping my son does just that…someday. But you know, we don’t get ‘better’ after we die…we’re the same flawed, perfectly imperfect person we always were. And spinning new tales about acts the person performed that would rival changing water into wine is probably not a fair thing to do. However, having to chase Edward down the street in the snow…while wearing a nightie and crocs…screaming at the top of my lungs…and only slipping and falling twice before grabbing the little shit is pretty durn close. 🙄

Anyhoot, ma had flaws. Yes she was amazing and kind and sweet…but…she was also a horrible loser, snarky, opinionated, and stubborn as a mule. On a side note, we were talking about our less than perfect traits one day and I said “Ma…what are mine?” And she looked at me and said “I can’t think of any!” So, ma is a bit of a liar too! In fact, she also announced that I was the best singer in the family at a Christmas dinner a couple of years ago. This made my oldest nephew literally choke on his candied pecan, and I thought performing the Heimlich maneuver was going to be necessary. However, calling me the ‘best singer’ in the family is akin to saying I sound less like crap than everyone else. 🤔

When my great-nephew introduced his adorbs girlfriend to ma, he said this: “Be careful if you play a game with Grandma…she doesn’t like to lose.” From the mouth of babes. I remember when ma, pop, my grandparents and aunt were playing Tripoly one Christmas at grandpa’s kitchen table. My family LOVES playing card games and when there’s pennies involved, it becomes quite intense. Ma had a winning hand: a Jack, Queen, King AND Ace of hearts. This would have let her win a bunch of small pots of pennies (for a grand total of $.79 – it was to be a down payment on a new car 🙄) on the board and the look in her eyes terrified me. As everyone else was playing their turn, the daggers were being aimed and ma was literally shaking. My grandpa was sitting next to ma and he played his LAST card and won the pots! Ma got nothing and her cards were worthless. I have NEVER seen such a horrifying look on a face in my life. Never. And, if memory serves, she was mad at gramps for years. When ma would lose, her eyes would get squinty, her face red, and her mouth would materialize into a perfect straight line (me and Terri have perfected this look😐). However, the best part about her losing was always asking her if she was mad. “Ma…are you mad that I won and you…basically…lost?” “NO, Kristi. I am not mad.” Ooooookkkkkaaaaayyyyy!

When I went to my weekly Sunday lunch, we’d always play a game called Five Crowns. There’s no money (i.e. pennies) involved…just bragging rights. Ma kept score (I always double-checked it😏) and I usually won 80% of the time. Don’t be too impressed, this has very little to do with skill…it’s basically the luck of the deal. I usually left ma’s with her having that “look” and me skedaddling as fast as I could. Once ma won and just to be a snot I said, in my most serious voice possible, “Ma…I let you win.” Holy crap! I have never seen her face redden as fast as it did…even when my 17th birthday party at the house turned into an alcoholic free for all. She said: “You. Did. Not. That was all me.” Trust me, I never said it again.

And snarky? Hmmmm…how do I put this delicately and in a way that honors ma’s memory and sheds a positive light on her: she was a snarky little shit. And the fun part about her snarkiness was the way she’d say things: “Well, Kristi…we’re just a bit bitchy today, aren’t we?” Translation: “Well, Kristi…if you don’t stop bitching about everything going on and ragging on my cooking and predicting yet another card win, I will throw you out on your ear.” You get my drift.😳

In fact, Terri and I laugh over what ma said to us when she was in the hospital. She was getting to the point where she couldn’t speak so anything she said was special. Meaningful. Insightful. Something to be remembered and treasured. So I was sitting in the recliner (that fake leather recliner that’s in every hospital room in the country and that only 2 people on the face of earth find comfortable), holding her hand, and working on some class stuff on my iPad. Her fingers squeezed mine and I looked over at her and she leaned her head towards me. “Ma…what do you need? Are you in pain?” “Kristi. Don’t ever dye your hair that color again.” Got it.

And then Terri got her own last snark. My sister is a go-getter, someone who never procrastinates, and is more organized than Martha Stewart has ever been. She took care of all the paper work and other issues (insurance, billing, etc.) at the hospital and did so splendidly. So one day Terri was with her and ma opened her eyes and looked at her. She said: “Terri, I need you to do something for me.” “I’ll do whatever you need, mom.” “Wow. You’re easy to get along with now, aren’tcha?” 😐

Stubborn? Well…she was actually a fucking (sorry, ma🙄 – old habits are hard to break ) mule. By the way, if Terri is reading this right now, she’s nodding so hard that she will have a pulled tendon in her neck. Ma’s favorite phrases in terms of her stance in things are: “No.” “You’re wrong” “I’m right” “We’ll just see about that.” And my personal favorite (which includes some snarkiness…a double-header): “Whatever you say…you’re the one that’s always right.” Sheesh. I guess stubbornness is tied to being opiniated as well…which I actually see as a plus too. Ma would take a stance and be loyal to it.

But there was a downside as well; like insisting the lane she swooped over to one day when we were out running errands was a turn lane…which it wasn’t and which is what I told her. (She only drove on this road for 60 years). Her response to me getting whiplash as she plowed her way down the street: “They must have changed it.” Yes, ma. Overnight some elves re-did the entire street with newly painted arrows that showed everyone in town what turn lane you remembered. Hmmmmm. 🤔

So ma was flawed. Just like we all are. And honestly, I like remembering this along with my memories of her love and hugs and support and approval and everything else she gave to me and was to me. She was human. And she was fantastic.

And O? I’m going to start writing down my flaws for the eulogy you’ll say for me. When I think of some, I’ll let you know.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“…remember that life’s a balancing act.” ~ Dr. Seuss

So, I just got done grading all of my finals – thank the Lord – and was thinking about a question I posed to my Intro to Sociology class. It was about labeling and how we either try to live up to them…live down to them…and then their lasting impact on our lives.

Some of the labels my students talked about broke my heart. So many said they had been labeled as ‘fat’, ‘dumb’, ‘annoying’, etc. and regardless of anything, they still feel the pressure and anxiety from it. For example, one of my students said that he was chubby during childhood and was labeled the ‘fat kid’. Even though he went on to play athletics in Jr. High and High School and became very fit and slim, he still carries that early message with him and said he is ‘extremely’ conscious about his weight still. That made me so sad for him!

And even positive labels can be stressful. Students talked about how they had been labeled ‘smart’ or ‘good’ and constantly feel the pressure to maintain that…pushing themselves to get perfect grades or always being nice.

Anyhoot, Terri and I started talking about labels too and both of us have been labeled as ‘too emotional’ and ‘too sensitive’ (big surprise there 🤨).

We’re aware that the label is correct…we’re conscious of our impassioned reactiveness and how it’s seen by others. The emotional load we carry is hard and being so sensitive, empathic, passionate, emotional, etc. is burdensome at times…hard on us….exhausting. The effect it has on us causes anxiety in terms of the storms inside of us and then the reproval we might face. It’s not easy having all of that simmering inside us.

But right now, the label that’s pressuring me the most is this: ‘Kristi is always energetic and happy and talkative and always smiles!’ (do I need commas between these? 🙄). And I try so hard to live up to this! Sometimes it’s easy because I am truly happy and energetic and my life is going great and I express it openly. However, that’s just something that’s not possible for me to do right now and it’s making me feel guilty and anxious.

People at school say “Wow! You’re doing so well!” because I put on that label mask: I smile and chuckle (there’s no way I can even fake a laugh) and find the reserves of energy I need in my classroom and with my colleagues. When I’m asked “How are you?” I say “I’m doing good!” I don’t want to tear up…or talk about my grief…or show my pain. I feel like I can’t since it goes against what’s expected of me. Or most likely, what I FEEL is expected of me.

See, I continue this even with my family and friends. I text with my usual exclamation points and chat with people with smiles and excitement. And then I get home. And I sit…and stare…and draw…and crochet…and write…and do anything I possibly can to distract myself from the negative emotions I need to express. It’s almost as if the label has become so internalized that I can’t NOT live up to it even when I’m alone. For fuck sakes, I don’t want Edward and Mally to get upset or scared.

How do I start to refute this label…this performance? How do I go against a lifetime of ‘happy’ and now show my grief for ma? I think this charade is preventing the avalanche that’s going to happen when I do. I also think it’s going to be something that only 1 person could ever help me with…and ma’s just not here.

I like being single in so many ways! The financial freedom…eating what I want…sleeping when I want…knowing if I put something down, it will be there when I come back. I like the quietness and privacy and knowing that my home is all mine. But…and there’s always a but…this is a time in my life when I need a ‘someone’ so bad. Someone to hug me…listen to me reminisce about ma and look at the photo books I’ve made…let me vent and then validate me when I do. Being alone is tough right now. I want to wave a magic wand and have that someone (who can sing country songs 🤠) just be there. That’s all. Just be there for me and then of course, me for them.

In the meantime…probably decades 🙄…I’m traversing this ‘alone’ in a lot of ways. Yes, Terri and Ollie are wonderful! T and I talk everyday and her support is huge. I don’t know what I’d do without her! But I was thinking the other night that everyone in my family has someone all their own: Ollie has his girlfriend and they are like an old married couple…Terri has Dan and they support each other so much…my nephews have their spouses and kids…and even all of my friends live with someone who’s simply there.

You know, I miss ma more than I can ever express. We talked everyday…saw each other multiple times a week…traveled together…ate together…played games together…sewed together…went to holiday gatherings together…went to ball games together. In other words, she was my someone. The one who was also alone, and with me we made a ‘together.’

I guess I need to lessen the hold this label has on me. Try to overcome the perceived demands this has on me. Work to understand that expressing negative emotions is valid for me…that I can cry and be upset and not smile and that it’s ok to do so. And I need to do this. I need to mourn ma. And I don’t think I’ve even started yet.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“…or I might find out what it’s like to ride a drop of rain…” ~ Brad Paisley

Dear Ma,

So, where do I start? The hole that’s in my heart grows more and more as I come to understand that you are truly gone. Honestly, it takes my breath away and as much as I try to push down those feelings, I’m finding I simply can’t do that much longer. Ulcers, stomach pains, and headaches are telling me that I need to start what others call the ‘healing’ process. But to me, it’s not healing at all – it’s actually scarring which will be with me always and will still cause me pain when I bump against it. And you know, the funny thing about all of this is that the one person in the world who could comfort me best is you. You.

I feel so selfish though because I’m crying so much for me…for losing my support, my rock, my best friend, the person who loved me more than anyone else in the world ever has. Ma, I’m scared to be without you…so scared of what my life will be without you. I miss our Sunday lunches…our card playing…our trips…our eating Mexican and then getting too stuffed…our jokes…our conversations…our laughs. You always made me happy. Always.

Something else I’m struggling with is guilt. So much fucking guilt, ma…and it’s eating me up. What you went through with Richard is making me vomit whenever I think about it. I should have helped you more. Tried harder to get you away from him. Drug you to the police. Forced you to go to the DV shelter for help. There are so many ‘shoulds’ that I have running through my brain and they torment me. You always protected me and did everything you could for me and in turn, I feel like I failed you. Remember when I apologized to you in the hospital for this? I’ll never ever forget what you said to me: “Kristi, you did all you could.” I heard that ma…but just can’t believe it yet.

I also didn’t know how much you were drinking because you hid it so well. Sometimes I’d call you at night and knew you were drunk just because of your slurred words. But I truly thought those were one-offs…not a nightly thing. I’ve been going through tons of old photos and can now see the signs in your face during that time. And you know, I also see the difference in your eyes over time: I have a pic of you when you were with Richard (don’t worry, ma…he’s going to a very different place than where you are) and drinking, and your eyes are empty. Glazed. Vacant. After you left and settled in to what you call the best years of your life, they brightened and sparkled. What an awesome transition that is to see!

You know, I think a lot about your strength and class. I know you and pop divorcing was devastating for you. I saw your pain…your tears…and then your strength when you pulled yourself out and started to live again. Fighting back against Richard was horrifying; I remember you at the shelter as we were getting your OP and then going in front of the judge. You were shaking so hard beside me and grasping my hand to where I had indentations from your nails. But you persevered even with the fear of retaliation from him. And then you grew. And grew. And grew.

Your quilting business blew me away. Who knew you had such a keen business sense? What you built in the span of just a couple of years, and then worked at for over 15, was amazing. So many of your customers came to pay their respects to you, and Terri and I were so proud to hear them talk about your kindness…sweetness…talent…helpfulness. We were gobsmacked. You made such an impression on everyone you met and everything they said was true. Completely true.

So Terri told me what you said to her before you lost your ability to talk – “I want Kristi to be OK and I don’t want you to worry in your life.” Terri has been wonderful with me and has taken over the role of older sister seriously. We talk multiple times a day and are always checking up on one another. We’ve worked together on your house and haven’t had any sort of disagreement at all. We know you’d be proud. And when she came over the other day, she said “I’m going to hug you now!” Then we looked at each other and laughed. We both know Terri isn’t a hugger…but she knows how much I need that and is comforting me so much…I hope I’m doing the same for her. Little does she know she’ll be a champion hugger in a few months.

And ma, I know you wanted me to have your house but honestly, I just can’t do that. You are too much there and I don’t think I’d ever be able to move on to the degree I should in those surroundings. I would also feel like I was taking your place in a way…something no one could ever ever do. I do have your living room furniture though, and when I look at the chair you always sat in to read and sew and watch TV, I see you. In your jammies from Kohl’s with a scrubbed face and damp hair. I love that picture of you so much.

I talk to you everyday, ma and I hope you can hear my words…I know I can hear you. Understand that I’m never going to stop having you in my whole heart…never let go of your hand…never ever say goodbye. And when I see you again, I’d better get a damn big hug.

Thanks, ma. You were truly the best mom I could ever have. There are a lot of things that haven’t gone right in my life, but you were always there. Always. And having had that for all of these years makes up for anything else.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” ~ Winnie the Pooh

So, I’ve been reading through the 2 years of blog posts I’ve written and it’s funny to see how much my life has changed. What was such a big deal at one time is nothing now and I know that in terms of relationships and break-ups, time truly does heal all wounds. How weird to see people I thought were so important to me be nothing more than a blip now. It’s nice to know the heart really does have the power to mend in these cases.

Almost every one of my posts has ma in it somewhere…even if it’s just apologizing for saying fuck. But wanna be in on a secret? Ma used to say it too every once in a while…probably 3 times in her life in front of me and always laughed and turned red when she did. So many of my posts talk about the fun we had together, conversations we trudged through, trips we took, and the list goes on.

Even though I am still in shock and a bit of denial (T and I both share these feelings), I am starting to see her everywhere…metaphorically. I did dishes today and she was there…standing over my shoulder at holidays with pursed lips telling me I didn’t rinse a cup well enough. On my way to school I realized that EVERY single place I pass is somewhere ma and I went: restaurants, stores, thrift shops, etc. I ordered a couple of African Violets just now (my new obsession…gramma and ma both loved them and I’m feeling it too 🙂) and it made me think of when I was a little girl and she had yellow shelving pop put together for her with violets covering them. I know I got my green thumb from her. I put a book on reserve at our library and thought about how ma went there every single week for all of her adult life. Every week. She was a voracious reader and T and I share that trait. Her favorite thing was to soak in a warm bubble bath with a little bowl of chocolate covered anything and read and snack. When T and I are doing things in her house I see her at her quilting machine…cross stitching on the couch…making the best chili in the world.

I think about our inside jokes…how we used to sign greeting cards with funny names or things we’d say while playing cards. She had such a great sense of humor and ‘got’ me more than anyone else ever has.

How can you describe someone who was your world? What words can possibly illustrate the scope of her in my life? The place in my heart? The memories in my head? It’s such an indescribable feeling to not only lose someone you loved more than life itself but to have your world so shaken up. Turned around. Changed forever.

Being Prof K helps a lot during the day…it gives me purpose and direction during this time of numbness. My students are absolutely freaking amazing and are so sweet in how they’ll ask how I am. But when I’m at home? It’s like I’m sleepwalking through life outside of campus. I can’t sew. I don’t know if I ever will again…T can’t either and ma’s bestie said the same thing to me yesterday. I’ve been doing huge jigsaw puzzles while listening to audiobooks for something to focus on but I hear her voice in my head telling me to work on the border first. Even writing this is hard…not because of the content and the fact I’m crying, but because ma always read my posts. Always praised them. Always told me how proud she was of me.

T and I are taking things one day at a time and I’m focusing on being there for O…he loved his gramma so much. Even Edward and Mally run to the door when someone pops over and I can see sadness in Ed’s eyes when it’s not ma. There was nothing he liked better than trying to lick her ears when she was on the couch.

So many people at school who have lost a parent have sought me out and talking to them helps. One friend said that I’ll never ever get over the grief completely…never have my world the same way again…but that you learn to live with it. That it’s going to take me a while. I know that my heart won’t mend this time…it will scab over but the hurt will be there. Always.

Today, a friend told me a quote by Winnie the Pooh: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” I was gobsmacked by this because it made me realize that ma was such an amazing person who I got to have for 55 years. But unlike Pooh, I’m never going to say goodbye. I’ll always talk to her. Always love her. Always miss her. And always work to make her proud.

I keep greeting cards I get and ma used to give me a lot of them. One of them I found said this: “You are loved and adored and I’m proud to be your ma.” What a great feeling to know she felt this way. What a gift. What a wonderful message that I can hold onto for the rest of my life.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“You gave me love and helped me find the sun…” ~ Seasons in the Sun

So it’s been quite a while since I’ve blogged…I took the summer off since working on the computer for school all year takes it’s toll.

But I wanted…or maybe needed…to tell my sweetie peeps that ma died this morning. She was such an active, vibrant, beautiful woman and only began deteriorating in July. It was a fast downhill slide and sissy and I are in shock. I’ve written so much about her over the last couple of years and I know some of you have laughed at her antics. She always got a kick out of me apologizing to her whenever I fucking cussed (sorry, ma).

I’ve contemplated the word ‘love’ lately and realized, as I was watching her fight for breath yesterday in the hospital, that the word just isn’t big enough to describe what I felt for her. She was my light. My best friend. And the most amazing mom I could have ever ever asked for.

Ma was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver in 2006…she was an alcoholic but didn’t drink a drop after this diagnosis. Most people live about 5-6 years with the severity of damage she had…she lived 16. My sissy and I didn’t know that these last 10 years were the miracle we had been praying for these last couple of weeks. Our extra time with her had already happened.

This last decade was the happiest of her life. She was safe and healthy and happy and had so many friends that loved her. She did so much traveling and activities and at the age of 65 started a quilting business that was incredibly successful. She got to see her great grandkids grow up to their teenage years and took so much pride in sissy earning her LPN and working with special needs kids, and me being a prof. She told us so many times these past few days how proud she was of us.

I spent these last couple of days just rubbing her arms and hair…laying beside her in her hospital bed to cuddle…and telling her over and over again how much she meant to me. I think she understood.

I can’t say goodbye to her yet…I haven’t processed everything and know it’s going to hit me hard. All I know is that the times I thought my heart was broken were nothing compared to this. Nothing. My heart isn’t broken…that can be fixed. Instead, my heart has a piece now missing that can never…ever…be replaced.

Rest in peace, ma. You deserve that more than anyone else I know.

Kristi xoxo

Ma supported me in everything I did. Everything.

Ma loved Dottie so much…I think she’s probably cuddling her right now.

Ma took care of me when I was having some surgery in 2021…she was my rock.

Going over to ma’s for lunch…something I did every Sunday. After we ate, I’d kick her butt in cards. (Actually, she beat me just as many times and bragged when she did).

“Lean on Me” ~ Bill Withers

Dear Terri,

So, I know you don’t get quite as mushy as I do, but bear with me because I promise to make this as painless as possible! Anyhoot, I don’t know if you realize this but you are a great sister to me and always have been…right from the start.

Remember when I couldn’t talk at first before I spent a few years with the Speech Pathologist and no one could understand me well…including ma and pop? The thing is that you always could; so from the very beginning you had to help me by being my translator and my voice. I wonder why you could get my words when others couldn’t? Maybe because it’s just a ‘sister’ thing? Or maybe because as much as we’re different, we’re so similar too (except in the ‘chest’ department where you were blessed more than me 🤨)?

Almost every single picture I have of us as kids, you have your arm around me. Not just casual like, but grippy…possessive…like you were broadcasting to everyone that not only were you my big sis (remember, you are significantly older than me 😐) but my protector too. And you had a job with that, huh? Both of us were bullied in elementary school…especially by that kid ‘B’ who would not only taunt us at school but also follow us home while making our lives hellish for that 2 block walk. But honestly, you remember that better than I do because you shielded me from so much of it. You took the majority of the bullying and pushed me aside. That was such a selfless thing to do, particularly for a kid whose instinct is often to protect themselves first.

I loved it when we would go to gramma and grampas. Getting on the floor with gramma while playing triple solitaire and squawking when we beat her. Running errands with her in the VW bug and arguing over who got to sit in front. I know…I won most of the time since I got carsick so easily. It was either win or have you see me puke. I honestly think you dodged a bullet in that case. And then we’d spend the night and grampa would make us something special and always had teen magazines for us to read. I think we both felt so cozy and loved and sharing those memories of all 4 of us together makes me smile every time. They both would be so so proud of you for the grandma you are today and your grandkids are just as lucky to have you as we were to have our own.

Did you know I started getting jealous of you when you hit Jr. High? You got to go to a HUGE school and have a locker and have more than 1 teacher and ride the bus (which come to find out sucked balls😬 ) and then the best part: go to dances and get calls from boys and have secrets behind closed doors with your best friends. I wanted to be a part of that so badly! And, you were beautiful too! I know you’re shaking your head or rolling your eyes or retching right now, but I’m being honest. You were…and still are! Being the first to try make-up made me long to be older and acting as the guinea pig for your hair styling skills was fun…but to a point. That damn nozzle on your hairdryer would whack me in the nose everytime…and I know it wasn’t YOUR fault…it was the dryer itself…right (🙄)? You know, I just realized that may have been the cause of my deviated septum, and not the broken nose I had years ago. Hmmmmm…

(Did you know I saved all of the letters you wrote to me when I was at summer camp those 2 summers? I saved every one!) 🧡

I loved talking to your boyfriends and even keeping them company while you finished getting ready for dates. I remember when Ben and you were an item and had an argument: he called and I was so pissed he was fighting with you that I yelled at him and called him a ‘hoodlum’…the worst word I could think of at the time. You were gobsmacked I’d do this but here’s why: it was my turn to stand up for you! And a secret? I always had a HUGE crush on Jack. HUGE! I pictured you dumping him and then him looking at me, scooping me up, and carrying me off into the sunset like a prince. A prince in a cowboy hat no less. Did it matter that I was 12 and he was 16? Nope. I figured that would work itself out in time.

And for a couple of years, I was your voice too! Calling into the high school, pretending to be ma, and telling the secretary you were too sick for classes that day. How I wanted to play hooky with you and your friends! When I’d be sitting through yet another lesson on biology which I had absolutely no chance of understanding, I’d wonder what you guys were doing. Make overs? Talking about boys? Sneaking a smoke? Exciting stuff to a younger sister!

When you got married and left home, I missed you so much. The house seemed so empty. It was just ma and me and the vibe changed…the energy. That’s because you had brought it in. But it was exciting when A was born and I was an aunt. I could finally drive and loved visiting you in the country and playing with him. I can still see him on the walkway to your front door, riding his trike with his curly blonde curls bobbing up and down. Then when D was born and I was a bit older, I finally was comfortable changing his diapers and taking more care of him…that was so much fun for me and gave me the even bigger desire I had to be a mom myself. You are a great one.

Does this all sound too Pollyanna-ish up to this point? Like we never fought? Of course but these good memories stick out much better than the bad.

We fought like cats and dogs sometimes…we said things we didn’t mean…we did things we shouldn’t have to one another…and we sometimes couldn’t stand each other and made that clear. In other words, we were sisters. And yes, this sometimes still happens. But we always work through whatever it is and come out stronger on the other side. It makes these fights worth it just for that. BTW, the maddest I’ve ever been at you in my life was when you won the twisted balloons at the Mueller Christmas Party and you REFUSED to let me wear them. It still gets me going. 😬

I know you hear a lot about me being bipolar, especially since you read this and hear me talk about it with others. But I also know you battle so much with your own disorders too…after all, mental illness runs in our family and were both blessed to continue the tradition. Charmed, I’m sure.

The anxiety and depression you experience is horrible and I know your life has been affected by it in so many ways. We didn’t know much about mental illness when we were kids/teens…it just wasn’t talked about or recognized in younger kids. But our struggles were real…even if not always validated. I know these issues can cripple you at times and when they do and you reach out, I often don’t know what to say…because there’s no words that can truly help. It makes me feel powerless to protect you from this like you used to protect me from things. So we both listen to each other…commiserate with one another…and know that no matter what or when, we’re both there to listen. No matter what.

I know you’re hard on yourself for having anxiety and depression…in fact, we were talking about it this week. You said how you feel guilty for letting your grandkids see it…that you want to be ‘perfect’ like gramma and grampa were to us. But the thing is, you are. Your sweeties love you like no other and here’s what you’re teaching them by being who you are: that it’s ok to struggle…ok to express feelings…ok to say you need help. In other words, you are providing the example that being perfect isn’t possible, but being honest and true to yourself is. Think about how valuable of a lesson that truly is.

And today? You are still protecting me. Still keeping me in your grip. Still standing up for me and believing in me and loving me. In other words, you are still the sister I’m so blessed to have and my life would have been so lonely without you. I know this is getting long…and starting to get mushy…so I’ll stop here. But, just know that I love you. YOU. Imperfect, mentally ill, emotional YOU. Because just like you see the real me…I see the real you. And the vision that I see is wonderful.

Kristi xoxo

“I am thankful for laughter except when milk comes out my nose.” ~ Woody Allen

So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I have so much to be thankful for in my life. It’s also the season of buying gifts and I’ve been working my little fingers to the bone making stuff as well! However, my son has told me he doesn’t want another quilt from me even though he loves the ones I’ve made him over the years: it’s a storage issue and I understand!

Anyhoot, I was putting the idea of thankfulness and gifts together in my mind (🙄) and realized that the people and things I’m thankful for have given me lifelong gifts I cherish.

Ma has given me so much over the years that it’s hard to sort them all out. I think the biggest gift she’s given me is that of support. I actually call her my bra because no matter what, it’s there holding things up. Yes, sometimes there’s chafing, but that’s to be expected. If I said “Ma, I want to fly to the moon and plant a quilt I’ve made on a pole by the American flag” she would say “That’s a great idea…how can I help?” I’m not kidding…her support is unconditional and always there. I have taken that gift and tried to pay it forward with my son. When he wanted to quit his job at Verizon and start a photography business, he needed to live with me to save on bills in order to buy equipment he needed. I was happy to do this for him…even though there was some ‘chafing’ there too! He had lived on his own for a few years prior to this and for both of us to live together again was sometimes a challenge. (The best part was when he’d make me supper…he’s a great cook! The worst part was me seeing my basement full of dirty clothes…he’s not OCD’ish like I am 😐).

I also supported him in his move to Texas…just like ma supported me when O’s dad and I moved to Kansas for his job (O was born in Kansas). Ma visited a lot even though it was 8 hours away and we yacked everyday on the phone. Back then our phones were ‘on the wall’ so I’d sit with O sleeping in my arms while talking to her on her work line so I wouldn’t have a humungous long distance bill. Thank goodness for that…I don’t think B would have appreciated that.

I went to Texas as much as I could…at least every 12 weeks or so and I know O appreciated it (since I cleaned up the apartment and bought food) and I always loved seeing his face looking for me as I exited the airport! One day he came home and said that another guy was in the store that had moved and he hadn’t seen his parents for a couple of years. He told me how much he appreciated my effort in seeing him so much and that just made my heart sing.

And what has O taught me? Love. It’s that simple. Yes, I loved people very much before having him but the love of your child is just a another thing entirely. The minute he was put in my arms I thought: “I would kill for you, kid…I already adore you that much” and it grows everyday. Literally. It’s hard to explain how much space he takes up in my heart…but I know that no matter what ever happens in this world, the love I have for my boy lights me up from the inside out.

And my pop? He’s given me so much as well but a couple of things really stand out. First is the love of running he instilled in me. I began running in the 4th grade when pop started our local running club and have pretty much run since then. Pop has gone to EVERY single race I’ve ever run in…whether they are in town or miles away and whether they are a 5k or a marathon. I love running…it’s not a chore to me but a pleasure and I know that comes from him. When I train for marathons, pop rides his bike next to me and those are the best times I’ve spent with him. We talk and reminiscence and say things to each other we probably never would have in another situation.

But he also gave me the gift of being a good neighbor. Pop has always helped neighbors and made sure they are taken care of. He mows, scoops snow, helps unload trucks, takes food to those who can’t get out, and the list goes on. I’ve done the same in my neighborhood. I raked my leaves last Sunday and then raked 2 more neighbor’s yards. One of the old men came home while I was working on his lawn and asked why I was doing it (we’re friends…he was being sweet) since he was able too himself and I said this: “Norm, you are always helping out neighbors and I wanted you to do the same for you!” He was so thankful and it made me happy. I guess pop has shown me that helping and doing for others is a gift of enjoyment for yourself.

My sissy has given me so many gifts too but I think the most important one is that of being authentic. My sissy is who she is…she doesn’t wear masks and has the attitude of ‘take me or leave me’ like I am. I love this! She is so strong and when we were little, she was my protector. Every pic of us when we were kiddos shows her with her arm around me and even now she wants to look after me. For example, she has offered to punch various guys in the face and tell them exactly what she thinks of them…which I know would include some VERY colorful language! If I need to vent or cry or bitch or anything, she’s there to listen and do what she can for me.

She also has the biggest heart…especially when it comes to kids. She adores kids and is Gramma T to the dozens that have come into her life. Kids adore her too and she knows how to spoil any kid rotten. I don’t know if I’ve ever told her this but I love this about her…it’s her ‘soft’ side and it’s a beautiful thing to see.

I’m really thankful for my pets too…Edward and Mally (they don’t mind me using their full names 😉). All of my pets, past and present, have taught me patience, joy, affection, loyalty, enthusiasm, and most importantly: unconditional love. It doesn’t matter if I’m down, grumpy, manic, sick, or stressed, I get snuggles, cuddles, wagging tails, licks and life is just better because of that. Wouldn’t it be nice if people could do the same (especially the licks 🤭)?

And my students? Wow. I’ve had thousands of students over the 25 years I’ve been teaching at my college and they have all had an impact on me. They have taught me strength, motivation, compassion, understanding, kindness and have given me the huge family I always wanted. They are the recipients of my passion and I’m the recipient of them…each individual ‘them’ that put just one more spark in my heart. They are the best.

I could add so many other people I’m thankful for like my extended family (my nieces and nephews rock), colleagues (especially you Grand Poobah, who can be quite the ass at times which means we get along great), neighbors, friends, and the list could go on and on.

But I’m also thankful for the things in my life that I tend to take for granted: my cozy house, my Jeep, my job, the fact I always have enough food and clean water, etc. How do you even begin to count all of these blessings?

Finally, I’m thankful to all of you, my sweetie readers! You’ve supported this blog for the last couple of years and I’ve made wonderful connections with you…as well as a super great friend (Hi Susan!). Writing is an outlet for me and for you to appreciate it makes it all the more special.

So, Happy Thanksgiving to all of you…eat a lot of turkey, stuff yourself, fall asleep on the couch while you digest, and then wake up and have just one more piece of pie. K? 🦃

Kristi xoxo

“Machines to save our lives, machines dehumanize…” ~ Mr. Roboto

So, the fam was at my great-nieces volleyball game the other night (she is an absolutely gorgeous, smart young woman…much like me and sis were at that age…) and during a break ma said this to T and me: “I need a new phone.”

And just like that, the world stopped spinning for a moment…T and I stopped breathing for a moment…and we could see the horror in one another’s faces.

Look, we adore ma! We love her to death! However…introducing her to ‘new’ technology can best be described as traipsing through the bowels of hell and I don’t know about T, but I’m going to be BUSY for the next so many weeks until ma’s new phone is in her sweaty palm and she knows how to use it. There are 2 ways this can happen: either I leave the country before T has a chance too or I break my fingers. Regardless of the choice, I just have to do this before T does.

Ma’s iPhone is a generation 6 and she got it in 2014. Yes. Let me say that again…2014. The screen is the size of a postage stamp and her home button is grimy with use. However, she’s been happy with it so far until she saw me and T’s bigger and newer phones.

T and I aren’t ogres…we want ma to have a new, shiny, big screened phone (which she was too cheap to buy until now 🙄) to enjoy in her golden years. We just don’t want to be the one’s to get it set up.

Let me share how this is being anticipated:

Ma: So, if I get a new phone, my old stuff will be on it…right?
Kristi: Yes, ma.
Ma: How do we know we’re buying the phone with MY stuff already on it?
Kristi: Ma, I will take your NEW phone and download your OLD info into it from the cloud.
Ma: The what?
Kristi: THE CLOUD, ma. All of your phone info is in the cloud.
Ma (scrolling through her old phone): I don’t have a cloud on my phone, Kristi.
Kristi: Ma, the cloud isn’t on your phone. It’s out in ‘cyberspace’.
Ma: KRISTI. I DON’T HAVE A CLOUD WITH MY PHONE.
Kristi: MA. For fuck sakes…everyone has a cloud and I have yours set up! Everything on your phone is uploaded to it for saving. Think of it as a file cabinet in the sky.
Ma: Kristi…
Kristi: OH NO! Ma, I have to go…Edward needs to pee…

After I recovered my sanity from that conversation ma had more questions and called me back:

Ma: Will the buttons be the same?
Kristi: No. There is no home button on the newer iPhones.
Ma: How will I get ‘home’?
Kristi: Take the bus!
Ma: Kristi. How will I get home on my phone?
Kristi: You’ll swipe…everything is swipes…
Ma: Will you show me how?
Kristi: Yes. I’ll show you a hundred times. T will show you a hundred times. O will show you a hundred times. Then, you’ll have it down pat.

So, sometime in our near future, T and I will be taking ma to get her new phone. I truly feel the need to psychologically prepare for this and I’m sure T could use some prepping as well. However, as much as I tease ma about her technology gaps, O does the same to me and for some reason, it’s actually not as funny then. 🙄

Now? Google the topic, go through the 1000’s of hits, learn more about the concept, read the books/journals in the area, and get more info in 10 minutes than it took me hours to get in school. I love this in so many ways because I’ve come to depend on Google for so much info…but…I also miss the days of seeing scads of students in the library, researching their little hearts out, traipsing through the aisles and aisles of reference books, and pulling all-nighters together to finish up the work. Ahhhh…the good old days. 😳

But, it seems a little ‘too’ easy now. You know? We can just say: “Hey Alexa…who was Emile Durkheim?” And poof, the answer is given. (To my past and present Intro to Sociology students: you know the answer to this…right??)

I was reading one of my fave books the other day (I have dozens of fave books)- “The Accidental Tourist” by Anne Tyler, and one of the characters is suffering from dementia and talks to his grandson about all of the inventions he’s working on: A motorized radio that will follow you around, a floating phone, and a car that will come when you call it. This was proof to the family that gramps was diminishing quickly; actually, he was ahead of everyone.

When I first read this book in the late 80’s (it was published in ’85), these inventions made me laugh. “Ha! A car that will come to you!” But all of these have come true (I wish Anne Tyler would have patented these ideas she wrote about…)! Wasn’t the Sony Walkman the radio that would follow you around…and then the iPod…then phones? And think about phones…no phone booths you have to wait for (that’s how I had to call ma when I was living on-campus)…no more waiting for T to say goodbye to her boyfriend and finally hang up…no more talking where everyone can hear since phones were plugged into the wall. Now? We have them all of the time. And cars that come when you call them? When I was dating ‘The Counselor’ he had a Tesla and we were coming out of Walgreens in the dead of winter and not wanting to traipse through the slush. He got on his phone and the car started up, backed out of the parking spot and came directly to us. My mouth hung open but I tried my best to take it in stride.

It makes me wonder about my future grandkids (if I ever get any… 😐) and what they’ll grow up with and how much things will have changed by then. I try to think how it can and I simply can’t! I can’t imagine anything more than what we have…unless it’s faster, etc. I said the same thing after my pink Motorola Razer I had in the early 2000’s: “What can be better than this?”

Anyhoot, we’ll get ma her new phone. T and I will help her set it up and we’ll tag team it: she can explain some things and then bump my shoulder and I’ll take over for a bit while T practices meditation and deep breathing. However, cough cough…I think I feel the ‘flu’ coming on. Bit by bit. Like maybe it will really hit me the day we have planned for shopping. Hmmmm…

Kristi xoxo

“…on Sundays I used to like to go hiking, but now…” ~ Heather / Blair Witch Project

So, I just want to publicly thank my son for already ruining next week for me: “Thanks, son.” 🙄

A couple of months ago, my son got the brilliant idea of going camping which entails he and his girlfriend driving halfway across the country and camping in the back of his recently purchased pick-up truck. When he said this, I was dumb-founded since the only camping he has ever done was to stay in a hotel that didn’t have turn-down service. However, I wasn’t too worried that this venture into the wilderness would ever come to fruition. Afterall, he once told me he was going to be a professional Pokemon trainer and that sort of fell through 😐.

Then, I bought O a present off of his Amazon wish list for his birthday in August. Little did I know he never updates the damn thing, so of course he already had the fancy-schmancy keyboard I so lovingly purchased; he asked if he could exchange it and that’s when he bought “The Tent.” I put it in quotation marks because that’s how he emphasizes it when he talks about it and alongside the flowery words, his eyes get a look of pure glee in them. Apparently, this is something he’s wanted his entire life (of which he’s lived with me for 21 of those years and I never heard a damn thing about it 🤔) and it fits in the back of his pick-up truck bed. According to him, it will be ‘just like home.’

And I have to agree that a tent popped up in the back of a pick-up truck bed minus the toilet, refrigerator, TV, couch, stove, beds, DoorDash, air conditioner, electricity, and running water is truly going to be ‘just like home.’ You know, Hubby #3 always wanted to go camping and promised me the same thing: “It’ll be like you’ve never left the comfort of the house…except you’ll be sleeping on the ground and will have to use a spade to dig a latrine if you have to poop.” Charmed, I’m sure. And guess what? We never went camping. Ever.

Anyhoot, even after all of this I still didn’t believe he’d go until he called me yesterday to remind me that I’ll be watching my grand-dog all next week. So now the trip is real and I’m already worrying about the fucking (sorry, ma 🙄) thing.

Let me replay the conversation we had:

Kristi: Where exactly are you going, son?
O: We’re going to drive half-way across the country and back in the span of 6 days.
Kristi: That’s nice and specific. So, where will you sleep?
O: In the truck bed, ma…in the tent.
Kristi: WHERE will you sleep? Have you made reservations at campgrounds along the way where there’s at least some sort of a structure or facility you can use so when you pee, you don’t have to worry about getting a tick and/or poison ivy? Where there’s a water hook-up so you and K don’t wither away from dehydration? Where’s there’s electricity so you can have light in case there’s a flood and you both need to run to high ground? And for the love of all that is holy, haven’t you ever watched The Blair Witch Project??
O: I’ll make reservations when the trip is closer.
Kristi: You’re leaving in a couple of days, son. It’s close.
O: We’ll be OK…we’ll just sleep any old where out under the stars. That’s the point of camping, ma.
Kristi: Do you know how many serial killers are in our country at any given time?
O: No, Mother. I don’t. What’s your point?
Kristi: There are a million of them (slight exaggeration but try to understand my reasoning here 🤨) and they prey on kids like you in trucks along side the road in the particular states you’ll be driving through. Also, they like Toyotas.
O: Mother. I can take care of myself.
Kristi: No, son…you can’t.
O: WHAT???
Kristi: Let’s just say…for the hell of it…that a 300 pound bear comes up to your truck smelling what you and K somehow miraculously made for dinner with a kitchen no where in sight. What would you do?
O: We’ll be in the tent, Mother.
Kristi: Ketchup packets are harder to tear open than that tent.
O: OK, MOTHER. What’s the solution because we’re going.
Kristi: To get a dog sitter to watch all 3 pooches while I follow you in my Jeep to make sure nothing happens to my one and only child who I bore in my womb and raised. I’ll sleep on my back seat and live on KIND bars for the entirety of the trip. You won’t even know I’m there, but by golly, if a fucking bear starts attacking you, I’ll wave my arms and scream like an idiot to distract them while you and K scramble through the back window of your truck. And then, son, I will have saved your lives.
O: Sigh.

Now, do I have the right to worry? Yes. Yes, I do.

My son, to my vast knowledge of his every movement since the moment his little feet kicked the inside of my uterus, has never gone camping. Ever. And he’s taking along his girlfriend who gets a look of sheer horror on her face every time O mentions the trip.

So, I pulled K aside and talked to her:

Kristi: What do you think about this trip, K?
K: I’m dreading it. I’ve never gone camping. I’ve never wanted to go camping. And the thought of peeing in the woods makes me itchy and ill.
Kristi: I’m here for you, honey. WHEN you get fed up on this trip (which I’m assuming will be within the first 3 hours after they leave), call me. I’ll send you a pre-paid ticket to Vegas, will take some personal time off to hop on a plane myself to meet you at the airport, and we’ll have a few days at the Bellagio where we will tan by the pool and get massages from cabana boys while drinking ice-cold Mai Tais.
K: You’re the best.

Do I think she’ll call? Yes. Will I follow through with this? Yes. AND…am I worried to death over my only chance in the world to be a grandma traipsing across a country he didn’t know enough about to pass a geography quiz in the 7th grade? Yes.

O keeps telling me it’s not my job to worry about him so much. But here’s what he doesn’t yet understand: it IS my job to worry about him. I don’t care if he’s 8, 18, or 28. I’m his mama and he will always be my baby. I’ll always have the instinct to take care of him…that doesn’t just magically disappear once your child grows up. One day, he’s going to understand that…just like I’m trying to understand the same thing regarding ma. 😉

Kristi xoxo