Saturday, February 28, 2009

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Notes from the Undercroft - Biting the Dust

I am going to start this new series of blogs to write a little more about my job at St. John's Church.  This is going to be more about my experiences at the church then anything that could get me fired.  Some of these stories are too good not the share and I feel like I have a duty to my public because I have such a great outlet.  A lot of what happens is normal but since I am so new to the inner workings of the church most of my daily encounters feel something out of a novel.  I am learning an entire new vocabulary and I'm finding church a lot less intimidating.  I actually have grown to be rather comfortable walking around the empty chapel.  There is something peaceful, reverent, and hopeful.  Sometimes I just sit in a pew and think in the quiet.  But there are those days where I just think that I am getting used to my job and something new happens.

Yesterday, Father Simon and Father Michael called me into the office to be debriefed on happenings around the church this week.  It is kind of a busy time with Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and Lent beginning.  They tell me that there is an "Internment" on Friday.  I used my standard response, shaking my head, smiling, and then waiting for someone to clue me in.  They proceed, "In the memorial garden."  Oh, shit, that kind of Internment.  Immediately my mind starts racing to mentally imagine me pulling this off.  I vaguely remember, after I was hired, someone explaining about the memorial garden where peoples ashes are buried and it being my responsibility.   I sent Michael an email saying that grave-digging wasn't in the job description but figured I wouldn't have to deal with it for a while and when I did that I would have found someone to pass it off too.  Well, I was wrong.

I traipse out to the garden with about 3 shovels of various size, a wheel barrow, a yard stick, and a pocketful of pencils.  I find where the plot is, mark the corners, and feeling rather successful go inside to warm up, get a drink, and pee.  Finding the plot again and I get to work in the 40 degree weather.  Literally, I am standing on the shovel, jumping up and down, trying to break ground completely unsuccessful.  Then I try the different technique of launching a spade at the ground trying to dislodge even a little dirt.   I am pretty strong but no matter what I did, how much muscle, grunting, or wiggling, I could only scratch the surface.  I decided to call in the professionals and headed back inside to collect my thoughts.

My first thought was pots of boiling water should loosen up the frozen ground.   But that might get muddy.  Maybe a heater?  Or waiting for Dad?  I am running these ideas past our parish administrator and she decides to call her husband.  Husband comes with a tool that looks like a huge straightened out crow bar with a point at the end.  He throws it at the ground a few times and presto, grounds broken!  First obstacle: gracefully conquered!  I whip out my post digger and continue my hole.  As my black knee high boots get dirtier and dirtier, I realize that this is probably why the last Sexton wore boiler suits.  Also, I probably should invest in a jacket less expensive and twice as warm.  I just so happened to have on my $500 Kenneth Cole pea coat which is perhaps the most expensive thing I own.  I just break a sweat and the Nursery School kids let out and run to the playground, which I am in eyesight.  I contemplate stopping just to avoid the questions they might ask but decided to finish the job since I was on a roll.

Having no idea how deep the hole should be, I get to about 2.5 feet and decide to stop.  I settled on that number because the dirt that I was picked up was getting wetter and wetter.  Also, I was having trouble opening the post digger and getting any dirt out.  When I stop and look down, water seems to be seeping through the ground.  Two logical choices, either I cracked the sprinkler system or I've hit the water table.  I opt for the water table answer because I am pretty positive the sprinkler has been shut off and drained for the winter.  I settled on the hole being deep enough and then focused on making it a little wider.

I had run into several large rocks but as I am wiggling the shovel around this black, squarish, chunk dislodges and falls to the bottom.  As I pick it up I get this sick feeling that I might have just ran into her husband who passed in 96.  I said a quick prayer, placed the chunk back on the wall of the hole, and called it done.  I have to go back on Friday to finish the job, so to speak, once the funeral service is over.  I know its not really grave-digging but it is still rather creepy.   My question is:  how exactly do you phase this job for a resume?

Monday, February 16, 2009

Marking our Territory

I promised an update on swim lessons which there have been two already.  The first one was less successful then I originally anticipated.  Rebecca came for moral support and to help with locker room changing.  I was grateful for the extra set of hands and her presence calmed some of my anxieties primarily since she had done swim lessons before with kids she babysat.  Wyatt was slightly keyed up because Rebecca and I were getting him all excited for his new adventure.  He was doing great until the water hit his belly button.  Then he pretty much hated it and wanted to run to Rebecca sitting on the bleachers.  He was much more content to throw rubber duckies in the pool at me swimming then actually participating.   I did get him in for a while by distracting him with splashes and drawing his attention to the fluorescent lights but mostly he twisted up his face and yelled out his fake cry until I placed him back on dry land.

And so went our first swim class.  He loved running around the pool with Rebecca just didn't enjoy the water so much.  Basically, all we are learning is pool safety, regarding entering and exiting, and getting the kids comfortable with the water.  There is song singing and trying to encourage the beginning of swimming like kicking his legs.  The Y has a policy of no forced submissions, which I was very happy to hear because there was no way I was dunking my child.  The instructor said that it does more harm then good and resulting in more drownings rather then less.  Anyway, I think Wyatt's hesitation was due to the new experience of it all.  There were people doing laps and it was very echoey and hot.  Maybe he was intimidated by the biggest bathtub in the world that he couldn't stand in.  Maybe he was embarrassed by his belly hanging out like the instructor suggested.  Regardless, I shrugged it off and decided we would try again next week.  

Next lesson started off the same way. I sat on the edge, splashing him with water, sitting him on my lap, just trying to get him comfortable.  He continued to scrunch his face and whine (pictured).  After about 10 minutes, I just decided to go for it.  I jumped in figuring he would rather be in my arms in water then on the side of the pool alone.  I was right.  He whined for a bit then loosened up.  I danced with him in the water for a bit getting some smiles and then he was like a fish.  He was laughing, twisting and splashing.  At one point he laid his head on my shoulder, resting in float position, kicking his legs in the water.  The instructor was very impressed with his 100% improvement.  I KNEW he would love it when he gave it a chance.  The rest of the class was spent "swimming" after rubber duckies which he would throw just out of reach.

Back in the locker room, you can only imagine it is somewhat of a task to get him and me out of bathing suits and dressed for winter.  I try to get him done first and work on myself as he explores shutting the lockers.  I had gotten his onesie on and he was naked from the waist down.  He moved past me, in between another woman and child, forcing me to go around the bench we were sitting on.  I guess I was a little too slow and got to him just in time to hear the woman say "Oh, He's peeing!  He's peeing!"  Of course my response was "Yeah, he does that all the time."  Because I do let him run around naked at least once a day and sometimes he pees on things.  Like the laundry basket, or me, or the garbage can, or the den floor. (Yeah, Mom, didn't quite tell you about that one.  I promise, I cleaned it up.)  The woman probably thinks I'm crazy for being so nonchalant and now I have to see her once a week.  My family thinks we are going to get kicked out.  All I can think is 'So, What?! He christened the locker room floor.  It was bound to happen eventually.'

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Monday, February 9, 2009

12 Months

My Big Boy,

It is true what everyone says. Cherish every moment with your children because it all goes by so fast.  I cannot believe that you are a year old.  I think I have said that statement about 200 times in the past three days.  When I took you home from the hospital, I thought you would stay that way forever, all bundled, pink, and new.  Beyond all reason, time seems to stand still.   The first few months go by so slowly in a blur of feedings, naps, and diapers.  Then the months start slipping away with milestones, the beginnings of interaction, and what amazing thing you might do next.  You have grown up, miraculously, before my eyes into this amazingly inquisitive explorer who takes my breath away everyday.  It doesn't feel possible that you have only been in my life for a year.  

You have changed so much from the day that they laid you on my chest, struggling to look at me under the harsh hospital lights.  But yet you are still the same little person that scrunches up his brow and looks at me with questioning eyes.  I watch you sleep every night, watch as you feel the satin edges of your blanket.  You look so perfect and peaceful.  I go into our room just to feel your life hanging in the air, your breath filling the room with promise.  When we were in the hospital, they would wheel you away so I could sleep.  But I couldn't sleep because I always felt like a piece of me was missing.  I am drawn to you.

The night before you were born we all sat around, Gammy and Grandpa, Grams and Poppa T, Auntie B, dreaming about who you would be.  Wondering who you would take after or what your first words would be.  What would make you happy or how your mouth would curve when you smiled.  What your eyes would look like or what you would feel like in our arms.  Wondering how you would look when you walked or the sound of your laughter.  And now we know.  We know that you pick up your legs extra high when you walk so you kinda look like a galloping horse.  We know that you don't smile with your mouth but with your whole face.  We know that when you really laugh sometimes you can't breathe. We know that you stamp your feet and huff when you get excited.  We know that you have 8 teeth, red(ish) hair, and blue eyes like the sea.  We know that you like to cuddle in the morning and eat with the family at night.  There is nothing too small or trivial, every detail is amazing.

Wyatt, I never dreamed that I could hold so much love in my heart for one person.  I would walk on glass for miles just to watch you play in the distance.  You have colored my world in with vibrant reds, greens, blues, and purples that come alive before my eyes where there once where pale muted shades.  I can't even begin to explain how much I love you.  You have changed my world, changed my heart, changed my life.  Basically, what I am trying to say is that I will never get tired of watching you grow, and love, and laugh, and discover.  You are my hope, my strength, my joy.  You are a whole year old.  

I love you everyday,
The Proudest Mom in the World

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Baby Beluga

For Wyatt's birthday, my parents wanted to get him something special but not a toy, something more interactive and educational.  I have been talking about Mommy and Me classes for a while but have never found ones that fit us.  They have either been too organized or too much like playtime.  So, Mom looked into classes at the YMCA and told me that I could have my choice.  Wyatt and I went and checked it out and I settled on a swim class.   Well, not really a swim class its more about an introduction to the pool, safety, and playing with flotation devices.  A mommy and me class in the water, if you will.

Wyatt is going to love this class.  I just know it.  He loves his bath; has since his very first one, smiling every night.  In preparation for the class, we upgraded him into the big tub.  He lays back on my arms and kicks his legs; stretches out and splashes.  He slips and slides from one end to the other.  The way he stretches out it is like he is finally free.  When we went to the Y to register, I took him down to the pool so he could check it out.  He stared in awe at the biggest bathtub in the world and kept on lunging to get out of arms to get in.  Our first class is on friday and Wyatt is going to love it.

I am freaking out, as per usual.  Its not about Wyatt.  Its about me being a self conscience, quirky, person.  Qualities that will be exaggerated when a bathing suit is involved.  Whenever I am faced with a new situation there is always some level of apprehension.   This time it is more of a nervous anticipation.  I have never swam in a public pool like the Y before.  It takes me about an hour to get into a cold pool.  My boobs have shrunk to a size that NONE of my bathing suits fit.  None of my string bikinis that are wildly inappropriate for a public pool and a squirming baby that will most like rip it off.  My bathing suits are meant for Cabo not lane lapping.   Not the mention, I'm ghostly white.  What are the other mom's going to be like?  Hopefully, we'll meet some cool kids but what if its all 3rd time mommy's that are bored with my first time concerns?

I did a dry run with Wyatt on Wednesday, dressing both of us in our bathing suits, introducing Wy to his swim diapers.  Rebecca is coming with us tomorrow to document, take pictures, and probably taunt me from the sidelines.  Literally, I have not been able to make plans because I have been solely focused on mentally preparing myself.  But, no, really, I'm excited.  I am staying focused on Wyatt having a blast.  Think about us tomorrow at 2pm.  We'll be taking our first splash.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

25 Things - Cause Everyone is Doing It

So, this Facebook thing is taking over my life and I have finally succumbed.  I was going to switch it up a little and write 25 things that I know and love about Lizzy but decided that the public humiliation might send her over the top.   So, in an attempt to compromise, I will do every other.  I'll take the odds and give Lizzy the evens. Lizzy, you can thank me later for being so generous.  

1 - I am, perhaps, thee worst speller on the planet.  I have to spell-check every blog about 12 times before I am confident enough to post and even then there are still mistakes.  I lost my 3rd grade spelling bee to "Window" and it wasn't until about 5th grade that I learned how to spell "always".  My friend Nicole finally corrected me after I had been signing my notes "Love all ways" for all my life. 

2 - Lizzy has an array of fuzzy, cartoon print, oversized, static cling pajama pants that she wears so much they are form fitted to her body.  I think she could wear a different pair every day for 6 months and not run out.  I don't know why this annoys me other then sometimes I feel like I live with MC Hammer.

3 - I am a huge fan of old fashion mail.  When I had more time on my hands, I used to try to send letters to my friends, actual hand written letters.  I like thinking about the person receiving the letter; a look of surprise on their face when reading the return address.  Then sitting and holding a piece of paper that was once physically in my hands.  I wish I had time to do that more often.

4 - Lizzy did not know how to flush the toilet until she was 16, literally.  Sometimes I think it was out of laziness but other times I think she was secretly afraid that the toilet was going to eat her if she remained in the bathroom while the flush happened.

5 - I have this weird obsession with zit popping and nose picking.  I know its gross but I can't help myself.  I try to blame my nose picking on my nose ring but my family has learned otherwise.  If I see a zit, even if it is on some other face, I really have a greatest overwhelming urge to pop it.  Usually I have to look away or else I might do it.

6 - Whenever I need a good pick-me-up I watch old home videos of Lizzy.  My favorites include potty training where she sticks her face in the potty, looks up holding her nose and says "ewwww".  Then there is the stirring rendition of the Lion King all the lyrics having a 2 year old spin.  For example, "Can't you feel the love tonight, tonight" and "I'm gonna be a mighty king that people can see before" and "It's the Circle of the night".  Seriously, I am laughing just thinking about it.

7 - We played manhunt as kids around our neighborhood, maybe about 10 or so of us.  I loved manhunt but was terrified of the dark.  I always hid within sight lines of my house and a light unless I was with someone else.  Sometimes I wonder if when Wyatt comes into my room because there is a monster under his bed will I respond with "Shit Monsters! Lock the door!" 

8 - Us three girls tend to do a lot of physical fighting which is mostly directed at Lizzy because she is the littlest.  Not to actually hurt one another but more as a way to pass time or to show affection.  However, most of the time I do it because Lizzy is the clumsiest, most awkward, entirely spastic person I have ever met.  One quick lunge and guaranteed she is on the floor, a puddle of limbs.

9 -  I save everything but hate clutter, the living oxymoron.  I have every college paper that Hayley wrote for, every program for the shows I was involved in, every note Kari passed me, and every birthday card my mother wrote me.  However, I hate clutter and will throw out everything that is unnecessary.  I need everything to have a place, a box, a drawer, a shelf.  All my surfaces need to be object free, books in height order, and pens separated from pencils.

10 - Lizzy insists on watching mind numbing shows like Paris Hilton's New Best Friend and that crazy Parental Control dating show.  Channel surfing is one thing but she actually DVR's them.  Her one redeeming TV watching habit is she also DVR's the The Office.  So, I guess she is forgiven. 

11 - I rub my feet together when I am going to sleep.  When I sleep with someone else, I put my feet as far away from the other person as possible so they won't know.  I always thought I was being every inconspicuous until recently when Eric told me he has know about my feet rubbing for years.  Funny thing is my mom does it and Wyatt seems to be doing it too.

12 - We have this spindly apple tree in our backyard with branches low enough to climb.  There is this one spot that intersects perfectly to make a little seat.  Lizzy used to take one of our couch cushions and sit in the "Y", reading, singing, playing with dolls.  She would stay up there for hours, crazy tree hugger. 

13 - Rebecca and I wrote a nasty letter to our cousin Emily when I was 7.  I don't remember what the quarell was about.  After depositing the letter in their mailbox, we ran back home and hid.  Michael was down a few minutes later, yelling at us for being mean and defending his sisters honor.  I watched him from the upstairs window pace around our house, very, very upset.  I regret that letter to this day even though I can't remember what is written.  This incident was a primary reason that I didn't want to have a girl.  I don't think I could handle mean little girls.

14 - Lizzy is convinced that her cat, Delilah, is a kind, gentle, lovable feline.  In reality, the cat is EVIL!!! (with three exclamation points!!!).  She tortures our other cat, who is deaf, clawing at her while hiding around the corner.  Delilah is a wild beast that bites anyone she comes in contact with and ritually run around the house like a 5 year old with a nasty pixie stick/coke habit.  Clearly, Delilah has Lizzy brain washed.  Lizzy named Delilah after the song by the Plain White Tees.  However, I am reminded of a Samson and Delilah bit done in a Vegas show with leather thongs and chains.  I think mine is more appropriate.

15 - I am utterly obsessed with jigsaw puzzles and have been my entire life.  I was doing 500 piece puzzles when I was 5 which my mom says is very impressive.  I did a ton of puzzles when I lived in SC.  There is sometimes tremendously satisfying about every piece having a place.  When I get a piece in I rub my finger over the connection like I'm making a wish.  I do it every time.

16 - Lizzy told me once that she wants her wedding song to be "Cash, Money, Hoes".  I haven't decided if she was kidding or not.

17 - I have a weird food texture issue.  I hate raw tomatoes but will eat tomato sauce without the chunks and ketchup.  I also hate bananas, baked apples as in pie, cottage cheese, and hot dogs.  I am not sure how the hot dogs play into the texture issues but I still can't eat them. 

18 - The other night, Lizzy was trying to convince Rebecca and I that she had really huge arm muscles.  She would flex her arm then try to peck us like a rabid chicken.  When making this ridiculous motion she would yell, "Watch out, the python is going to get you."  If this wasn't enough to send me on the floor in a fit of laughter, when she did make contact it was like getting bit by a mosquito.

19 - Since I stopped breast feeding, my boobs have shrunk.  I have always been a C, then was up to a D cup and now am down to a B.  This makes me very depressed basically because none of my shirts seem to fit right anymore.  I thought you have what you have.  Evidently, along with every other aspect of my body after pregnancy, my boobs are no longer my own.  I hope they grow back.  I must, I must, I must increase my bust.

20 -  To this day, Lizzy is still unable to pronounce our Aunt Carolyn's name.  She says something like Aunt Cal-o-Rine.  We have tried to correct her several times but she is unable to fix it.  

21 - Every Thanksgiving, Rebecca, Emily, Michael and I put on concerts for the family.  We would work all day on the dance and song routine then perform for the family after dinner.  Basically, Michael and I wanted to showcase our talents and Rebecca and Emily were always the back up.  Michael and I were Simba and Nala, Rebecca and Emily were Timon and Pumba.  Ringo and George to our Paul and John.  Kind of explains a lot.

22 - Lizzy is very musically inclined.  When she first started taking showers, maybe around 6 or 7, she would sing.  Loudly.  About blackbirds.  We used to crowd around the bathroom door to listen, like our own private concert.

23 -  I really would like to be good at scrap-booking.  I think it is something I would really enjoy but can't seem to muster up the time, supplies, or patience.  I have done some, complete with artifacts from trips, notes, etc but they are in photo books with crusty sticky pages.  I want to go to the craft store and spend ridiculous amounts of money on that fancy paper and puffy stickers.  Every time I am in Target I look at their scrap-booking isle but I always get too intimidated.  I think I would be really good at it if I took the plunge.  

24 - Lizzy has this weird thing with vanity license plates.  When she sees them she says she creates the entire life story of the person driving and becomes intriqued by the person.  When she sees the car driving around town she thinks, "Oh there's the BANK4U Banker who is cheating on his wife with her cousin with a gambling problem and 11 toes.  I wonder what he is getting at Stop n' Shop?"  She said at one point she had a dream and her license plate was XTRASML.  I wonder what that says about her.

25 -  For a 10 year old who was really, really pissed off when Lizzy was born and then I ignored her for much of her life I sure know a lot about Lizzy.