Leave it to my sisters

 Tuesday I got my hair chopped.  I don't have a picture and I'm comfortably tucked in with a blanket so a picture isn't forthcoming. 

But it's short.  

Every time I had chemo, a week later I would lose handfuls of hair.  All those handfuls added up to really thin hair.  Joelyn and I discussed and I showed her a picture on my phone.  I asked her, "Will I look like a Q-tip?"  (My fear with a circle of curls around my head.)

She said, "No.  Maybe if we dyed your hair platinum blonde...."

It wasn't exactly reassuring, but I went ahead with it.

My plan when I got home from my hair appointment was to get ready to go.  I was exhausted so I did nothing.  My body doesn't always cooperate with my plans, which is rude of it.

Yesterday I started with my typed up two page, with columns, list of everything that needed to be done before we left.  We were bringing the round of things we bring every time we come--bedding and towels, food--plus things for the funeral--a lace tablecloth, a guest book, a good pen.  We needed specific food--snacks for QE, snacks to share with the larger family, gluten free things, all the things.

I also needed to print the eulogy, pack my clothes, tidy up the house, do something about my shoes that were spilling everywhere in our mudroom.  (The solution was to move the winter shoes to the garage since I've brought so many summer shoes in from the garage.)

Things like that.

The problem was, I kept needing to sit and rest.  I feel fine, then I get tired, then I get dizzy.  Mark calls it "our vertigo" like Buster from Arrested Development.

I have my Lucille Austero moments.

Mark is very kind.  He helps me do whatever I'm doing and tells me to sit down and drink water.  

Adam loaded the car like the Tetris wizard he is.  I wanted to bring a wooden bookshelf and he laid it down and filled the shelves with all the things.

We finally hit the road and enjoyed our time together, like we always do.  We talked a lot and listened a bit to our latest podcast.  

I was happy to get to our little house in Starr Valley.  Adam brought in loads from the car with our wagon and I unloaded and vacuumed flies (there weren't many since we were just here).  We got everything sorted and I even cleaned the bathrooms.  I love how easy it is to clean this small, sparsely furnished house.  

In the late afternoon, we went to visit my dad.  I started crying when we drove up the lane.  It's so strange that my mom isn't there.  I had a book she had lent me.  I took it upstairs and put it on a shelf.  

It was good to see my dad.  I can tell how sad he is, but I can also tell how strong he is.  When my mom was near the very end, a hospice worker told him she would prepare him.  He said, "I've been preparing for this all my life."  And he has been.  He knows what he believes and he knows in Whom he trusts.  My dad knows that Heavenly Father lives.  He knows Jesus is the Christ.  He knows temple covenants bind us together.  All those truths buoy all of us up.

We visited awhile then went over to Olivia's for a birthday party for Adam and me.

Taught by our mother, my sisters knew exactly how to celebrate my birthday.  It was so good to see Marianne and Robert!  I've missed them.  They were a little jet-lagged, but their normal cheerful selves.  

Edgar made tostadas that were delicious like everything Edgar ever makes.  We enjoyed being together.  My sisters have a practice of having everyone say something nice about the person who is being celebrated.  Olivia called Ammon and Omar back into the room.  We said, "They don't have to say anything nice about us."

Olivia said, "They want to."

I watched the two teenagers trudge dutifully back into the room and I really doubted she was correct, but they rose to the challenge and each said kind things about us.  

Marianne had made a cake; there were candles to blow out and they sang to us.  It made me happy.  Marianne had given me a birthday gift before she went to Ghana, but Olivia had a gift for me (and she tossed a beribboned package of beef jerky to Adam, which made him happy too).

It was a nice celebration.

Today I'm looking forward to mopping the floor with my new mop vacuum that, if you believe the internet, is going to change everything about my life.  I'm going to walk with my sisters and later all of my siblings and spouses, except Tabor and Katie, who won't be here yet, and my dad are going to the Elko temple together.  That will be wonderful.

I wish a lot of things were different, but I know enough to know I have a lot to be grateful for.

Third graders

Yesterday morning, while we were doing Brain Bins, which is just free play with assigned groups, one of my girls came to chat with me.  I love when they do that.  She told me she had Activity Days at church.  She said, "I like it.  Last time we watched a movie that was happy and sad."

This particular girl is very sensitive and very dramatic.  Look for her to be a telenovela star.  She said, "Last time we watched a video about Jesus Christ.  And they-"  She pointed to her palms.  She couldn't bring herself to describe the crucifixion and I don't exactly blame her.

I said, "Yes, that was sad.  But He did it for us."

She agreed.

(I never bring up religion with my students, but if they bring it up, I acknowledge them.)

 I held off telling my students that my mother had passed away until I absolutely needed to.  (I guess I didn't need to tell them, but since I'm missing three days of school, I wanted to let them know.)

I told them yesterday.  Two of my students (one was, you guessed it, the drama queen from above) ran to me and hugged me tight.  They wouldn't let go.  It was starting to make me teary and we didn't need that.  I sent them back to their seats.  Another girl raised her hand.  I called on her and she said, "Yesterday my sister took our dog to the vet and there was another woman there who had a blanket around a dog...and it was dead."

Way to tell me a story that shows you can relate?

Another girl raised her hand and I called on her.  She said, "So, um...did you bring us a treat for your birthday."

I assured her I had. 

The conversation turned to my birthday, which is endlessly fascinating for them.  They wanted to know how old I am and when I told them 53, they were shocked and said I looked like I was 30.  I don't look like I'm 30.  They have zero concept of age.  

I was actually grateful that we were moving on in conversation though.

Except my little drama queen was not ready to move on.  Everyone was transferring to something else because we'd just said the pledge and she came and hugged me again.  She was weeping.  "I'm so sorry, Teacher.  I'm so sad!"

I told her softly, "Remember the video you told me about?"

She nodded, crying into my shoulder.

I said, "Because of that.  It's OK."

She looked at me and smiled at me through her tears.  She went back to her seat, but gave me hugs throughout the day.

I really love third graders.  They are tattle-tales (which is convenient).  They say the wrong things a lot.  They overshare.  They are really really sweet. They sang Happy Birthday to me and added the cha cha cha's which third graders are wont to do.  At the end of the song, they say:

          cha cha cha

          ooh la la

stick your head in hot lava

if it's nice, do it twice

stick your head in a bowl of ice

eat more chicken!

 I can't explain it.

But I'm glad I get to spend my days with those guys.

You've had a birthday, shout hurray

 Actually it wasn't all that exciting.

I decided next year I should make myself a cake, blow out some candles.

It was a good day though.  I felt very loved with all the texts and phone calls I got.  I felt sad that I didn't get to talk to my mom.  I also felt her love for me and I'm grateful for that.

We had a teacher work day so I got lots of stuff done, which is good.  People stopped by to wish me happy birthday and my team and I went to lunch.  They wanted me to pick a restaurant, but I wouldn't let them buy me lunch.  The other two have birthdays when we aren't in school.  So we bought ourselves lunch for our birthdays.  It was a lingering lunch because Kneaders was very busy and Miriam finally went up to the counter and got our food that was languishing there, waiting to be delivered.  We talked about all the things and I love my team.

Marianne called from the Accra airport and since I didn't have students, I could answer.  She was about 8 hours into their hero's journey and she is still in the air.  Such a long trip!  I'm so grateful that she is coming.

My dad called and I said that I was glad that we would all be together.

He said, "I wish it was for a different reason."  And so do I.

Adam and I went to Costco--like you do to celebrate?  I like being with him no matter what though.  I'm glad I get to share a birthday with that guy.

Weekend

 Saturday the reality hit that just because my chemo is over and I was all ready to just be good and done with it, it is not done with me.

Adam and I went to clean the church in the morning and I was vacuuming the chapel and just got exhausted.  I went and sat down in the bishop's office until I felt less dizzy.

I recovered after we got home and then I repotted the plants that I got from Bonneville.  It was six plants all in the same beautiful basket and they looked really pretty together, but they have different light and water needs so I put them in individual pots.

Again, exhausted.  

It was starting to be a pattern.

We went to La Casa Del Tamal in downtown Salt Lake for a birthday lunch with our kids.  Adam paid and Emma said, "That is a pretty good deal for your birthday."  

We enjoyed our kids and felt like it was a good deal too.

Also, those shrimp tacos, I could rhapsodize about them.

When we were walking back to the parking garage, Braeden called because we had wanted to FaceTime with them.  I said, "Well, your dad and I are separating...."

Braeden said, "Well, I guess you had a good run...."

I said, "No, I mean he and Mark are going to Winco and Emma and I are going to a vintage shop."

Braeden said, "I think Dad did better in the divorce settlement."

But Emma and I had a great time.  We went to two stores that she knew about and I loved them and got (you'll never guess) so tired.  I bought some pretty things and Emma bought an amethyst necklace and we felt pretty accomplished.  I love being with my girl.  

After we joined back up with Adam and Mark, I texted Braeden that we had reconciled.  Also, I napped in the car on the drive home and was basically worthless the rest of the day.  

Guess what I need and I don't have?  Patience.

We did get to FaceTime with our favorite little Californian family later though, so that was happy.

Over the weekend I continued to be surprised and not surprised by people reaching out to me about my mother.  It reaffirms to me that people are so good and that so was my mother because of the kind things they say about her.

Emma came over and wanted to practice the song she and her brothers and several cousins are singing for the funeral.  She asked me to sing the soprano part and I started crying.  She chided me, "If you cry, I'll cry!"

Mark said, "You're going to go blind!"

(Which isn't super helpful, but crying makes my herpes simplex in my eye worse and it can cause blindness.  Still doesn't help dry up tears....)

I normally don't cry when I sing, but the song that is going to be sung at my mother's funeral is not normal.

After Adam got home we played Qwixx and ate pulled pork.  Miriam had brought it over on Friday.  It was vacuum sealed and I put it in the freezer and per her instructions, heated it in a pot of boiling water.  Perfect.  She also gave me a bottle of their amazing barbecue sauce.  Their pulled pork is the best I've ever had.  

Later, Adam and I took a walk along the Murdock Canal trail.  It was a beautiful night.  All the trees are blooming and there is an alarmingly small amount of snow on the mountain.  The winter that wasn't.  

Today is our birthday.  My mom won't sing to me for the first time in my life.  We have Big Exciting Plans.  We're going to Costco to buy the stuff we want to take to Starr Valley later this week....

Grateful Friday

 The Buddy Bench on the playground is for a kid to sit on if they don't have anyone to play with.  Then, hopefully, some kind kid will notice and invite them to play.  Sometimes when I have recess duty I sit on the Buddy Bench.  It always invites a conversation, usually with the odd duck children that don't have a lot of friends. 

Yesterday a boy sat by me. This followed:

Me:  How are you doing today?

Boy:  I am great!  I am going to play Fortnite with my brother tonight.

Me:  That sounds fun.  How old is your brother?

Boy: 23

Me:  I have a son who is 23.

Boy (looking at me with wonder and skepticism in equal measure): What video games does he play?

Me:  I am not really into video games.  I don't know the names.  I know he does like video games though.

Boy: What's his name?

Me: Mark

Boy:  Well, my brother is named...John...so I don't think they're the same person.

Did he think they were the same person?!?

Me: No, I don't think they are the same person.

Boy: Wait, did your son serve in the army?

Me: No.

Boy:  Well my brother did.  I don't think they're the same person.

He finally trotted away to go find something else to do.  I thought about my mom, since I have been thinking about her all the time.

It occurred to me that if my mom was at recess duty, she would always find the odd ducks and collect them around her and be their buddy.  My mom would hold court on the Buddy Bench.

If every day I try to do what she would do, I think I will be pointed in the right direction.

I'm grateful for her example.

Fog, but lighthouses

 I would definitely say I was in a fog at school yesterday.  I was so incredibly tired and a bit nauseous and dizzy.  I didn't know where the chemo aftereffects ended and the grief started, but I was struggling.

During math I kept transposing numbers and making simple little mistakes.

Luckily 3rd graders are very forgiving and I have a sign on my wall that states:  Mistakes Are Proof That You Are Trying.

They recite it to me when I make mistakes and I gratefully thank them.

Despite the fog, there were lighthouses, which every foggy day needs.

My team wrapped me in hugs, multiple hugs.  They had gifts for me.  They are truly the best.

On Tuesday Bonneville had sent me a beautiful plant, delivered to our house and at school Camie threw her arms around me.  Shawna did too.  Courtney stopped me in the hall.  The nurse checked in.  Elementary school faculty and staff are the biggest supporters you'll ever want or need.  I am sure of that.

There was a small collection of teacher appreciation gifts on my desk from my students, leftover from last week.

Maybe one of the best things about the day was the way some of their faces lit up when they saw that I was back.

Me too kiddos; so glad to see you.

The loudest decibel

 I have been tasked with delivering the eulogy at my mother's funeral.  I spent a good part of yesterday working on it. 

If you think I'll be able to give it without crying, you're wrong.

I need to figure out how to do that and then I need to figure out how to get through something as monumental as losing my mom...

...without having my mom to talk it over with.  

Hannah sent me this and I know she knows what she is talking about.