In remembrance

Posted by: Lizzie

An excerpt from my personal diary three years ago:

I tried memorizing every detail of these past few days, from the moment we got in the van to drive to Atlanta up until now. I memorized the way I felt when Scriabin was playing, a sombre piece as we turned into the parking deck at Emory. I memorized the silence that fell over us as the hospital buildings towered over us and I turned down the stereo. I memorized the smell of the parking deck elevator, a used car or a repair shop. I memorized the walk from the van to the 5th floor ICU, the orchids in the lobby, the numbness that took over as we approached the waiting area we carved out in the hallway with extra chairs.

I memorized all these things, but I don’t think I needed to try.

I won’t forget the way she cried. We were playing cards in the other waiting room and a single sob came from the hallway. It was late Thursday night, and my heart fell into the pit of my stomach. Jamie got up to check on things, then his brother, then his brother’s wife. Simon was asleep on the floor next to me and I waited for them to come back.

She had just had a moment. A break in her strength. She’d been at the hospital for days and just couldn’t stand it anymore. The waiting, the watching, the listening.

But we were all there. Every cousin who could come, every friend, we were all there to hold her up. To make sure she had a shoulder to cry on. To make sure she was never alone. They told stories late into the night to help us laugh away the pain. We all slept on and off, curling up on the floor, slumping in the chairs. I don’t think she slept.

I ate breakfast with her and a few others Friday morning. After breakfast, we went back upstairs to wait some more. The doctors were still doing their report.

I wish I could erase the images of him lying there and replace them with the ones that make me smile. I don’t want to remember the way his mouth opened and closed like a fish when the paralytic started to wear off. I don’t want to remember how swollen he was, even if it was funny that he would have been proud he didn’t have chicken legs anymore. I don’t want to remember the way she draped herself over him and sobbed, “Oh darlin’,” into the ice blanket that was supposed to keep his fever down. I don’t want to remember the color of his face as his heart slowed down.

I know it’ll start to fade.

I just don’t know how soon.

From Aiden’s scrapbook:

Insomnia

Posted by: Lizzie

Timothy didn’t fall asleep until after midnight.  As a result, I had a hard time falling asleep myself and couldn’t even concentrate on the book I was reading.   When I looked at my snuggle buddies, it amazed me how much Timothy looks like Jamie.  All the boys look like Jamie, but more so when they are tiny.

Jamie and Timothy

Wordless Wednesday…is full of words.

Posted by: Lizzie

I pulled out my old copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends and Corey read to Aiden for at least half an hour.

Meanwhile, Simon was reading some poems to me.

I broke my blog

Posted by: Lizzie

Sorry for the down time today you guys.  I accidentally deleted my header yesterday, then the server went down when we were just about to get the header fixed.  Dreamhost didn’t get the problem resolved until this afternoon!  So, I’m extending the Operation Backpack giveaway until the end of the day tomorrow.  :)

What did I do all day while waiting for my blog to not be broken anymore?

Well…

I vacuumed the living room, two hallways, and the boys’ bedroom!  Then Lucy got confused because the carpet no longer smelled like her cat hairs.  She rolled all over it to make up for it.

lucy

The boys got into plenty of mischief as they always do.  It was mostly Simon causing all the trouble.  He is famous for making grand messes and today was no different.  It has been a while since he’s made a disgusting mess.  Well.  Since yesterday anyway.  I’d much rather deal with pickle milk than poop any day, though.

pickle milk

I want my money back

Posted by: Lizzie

I’m about to complain up in here.  If you don’t want to read my whiny post, step back slowly and move on.

This has by far been the hardest week of my entire summer.  The older boys have choir camp every day from 9:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.  So this means I have to get everyone dressed and ready to go by 8:00 since we live a good 40 minutes from church (45 with traffic).  I say 8:00 because it takes at least 10 to 15 minutes to get everyone IN the van after they are actually ready.

It makes no sense for me to take  Simon and Timothy back home after dropping off Corey and Aiden and then drive all the way back into town to pick them up.  It’s a big waste of gas and time.  The only thing is, we’ve had to occupy ourselves in town and there are limited options.

Monday, we stayed at the church.  This option is ok because there are toys in the nursery, other kids to play with for Simon, and a changing table.  This is ridiculous, though: I can’t tap into any wifi at the church.  Occasionally I’ll pick up a connection, only to have it die again.  So frustrating!  While staying at the church is the easiest option, I lose contact with the outside world for several hours except by cell phone or pigeon carrier.

We went to my mom’s the next two days.  So far, this has been the best option.  I mean.  It’s my mom!  Free food, lots of fun for Simon with toy cars, etc.  I believe we are going to do that again today.

Yesterday, I thought I would be an awesome mom and take Simon to Monkey Joe’s.  What three-year-old wouldn’t love to go nuts in a giant room full of bouncy castles and slides?

Mine wouldn’t.  That’s who.

I paid $8.55 for Simon to practice karate moves in the middle of the joint, play with the baby toys in the baby area, and stare at the arcade games for two and a half HOURS.

Watching the other kids play at Monkey Joes

(Watching the other kids play at Monkey Joes)

At least I didn’t stage photos of him like all the other mothers there.  I swear.  The ones with cameras were begging their children for “OK ONE MORE!! READY, ONE TWO THREEEEEEE!!!”  at the bottom of each slide.  Lame.

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