I have been caught up in a whirlwind of events and emotions over the last few months. So much so that I planned to not write about it at all. However, if I don't, I may mention these events and you'd be all "wait...huh?" So here it is.
The ShankRabbit and Isabella (and Peanut) household will be expecting a new addition in April. A boy. We had a rough first few months with morning sickness and some medical issues, but all is well now. He is doing what he's supposed to be doing and even measuring a little on the big side - lawd help me! Peanut was adamant that this baby was a girl for so long, but now she is pretty excited to have a little brother. We are still working on names. Her suggestions so far are Baby Johnson (that was originally the girl's name choice for her), Echo, and Uncle. As you can see, not much to go on so far.
My biological mother passed away unexpectedly on November 16th. There are a lot of details and stories to tell about how I got the news, coordinating a trip to North Carolina to take care of her arrangements and such, but I think I'll save all that for another time.
Is it common to cycle through the stages of grief over and over again? I think I've been through them at least twice so far. Right now I am back at the shock/disbelief stage. This happened so suddenly (cause still undetermined as it happened in her sleep) and I didn't get to see her before she was cremated. At the time I thought it would be a terrible idea as I wasn't sure what state her body was in and I thought it kind of morbid to ask the hospital "so...can I see her?" Do I really want my last memory of my mom to be in that state?
My mom's boyfriend and her brother were there the morning she was taken to the hospital, so there is no question as to identification, but still there is just a part of me that thinks, "maybe this is just some elaborate hoax to get me to pay for someone else's funeral arrangements and my mom is fine and well somewhere else." I feel like there is no resolution. Her ashes are sitting on a bookshelf in my house. Shouldn't that be enough? Will I ever feel like she is truly gone?
My mom and I weren't terribly close. I was placed in state care/foster care at the age of 11, so I didn't get the chance to really spend most of my childhood with her. However, she was my mom. I loved her. And I know she loved me too, but never could show it as much as any other person. Still, I felt it.
She was never good at calling (heck, neither was I to be honest), so communication over the years was limited. When her husband had a heart attack in 2006, I made the trip down there to be with her. He passed a couple days after I arrived and I assisted her with arrangements. Although they were unfortunate circumstances, my mom and I got a new opportunity at our relationship. We still didn't talk as often as most mothers and daughters do I'm sure, but this is what worked for her. And that worked for me.
We kept in contact mostly through email and I sent her many pictures of her granddaughter (one she had never met). I told her about our soon-to-be new addition. She seemed to be doing well, aside from "not feeling well for a while, but doing better." In mom-speak that could mean anything from a cold to something more serious. Knowing this, I asked for her phone number so I could get the straight answer from her. I never got the chance to call her.
* * *
So, here I sit. Wondering what is next in this process. My husband and I have lost 5 family members this year alone. Am I emotionally jaded because of that? Am I holding out on properly grieving until a later date? I have no clue. All I know is that I'm trying to live in the joy of my family and there are these feelings still tugging at my heart. But they aren't coming out.
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Monday, December 19, 2011
Thursday, June 4, 2009
NOT Oreo crumbs
We were in the midst of making dinner (in last night's case, warming up leftovers) and Peanut was HUNGRY. Since it was going to take all of 30 seconds to warm up her dinner, we didn't give her any "appetizers" to tide her over. She whined a bit and then wandered off into the living room (not unusual).
When she came back in the kitchen, she seemed a little too calm. That's when I noticed something on her chin...a tiny spec of dirt.
what the...?
Peanut ate dirt. From a houseplant.
While I give her props for being resourceful ("Hey, I'm hungry. Let's see what grub I can scrounge up"), that's just...eeeeew.
---
ShankRabbit and I discussed the "weird" stuff we used to eat as kids.
He ate sand and dirt, but never paste (he was afraid it would glue his insides together). I preferred ants (for a very brief moment in time), the yellow flowers off clover plants, and violets.
So, I'm curious...did you ever eat anything out of the ordinary?
When she came back in the kitchen, she seemed a little too calm. That's when I noticed something on her chin...a tiny spec of dirt.
what the...?
Peanut ate dirt. From a houseplant.
While I give her props for being resourceful ("Hey, I'm hungry. Let's see what grub I can scrounge up"), that's just...eeeeew.
---
ShankRabbit and I discussed the "weird" stuff we used to eat as kids.
He ate sand and dirt, but never paste (he was afraid it would glue his insides together). I preferred ants (for a very brief moment in time), the yellow flowers off clover plants, and violets.
So, I'm curious...did you ever eat anything out of the ordinary?
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Revisiting childhood with an artichoke
When ShankRabbit and I married, he assumed the title of "Chef" and I the "Baker." This arrangement suited us well. He can look at a few ingredients and throw together an amazing dinner. I, on the other hand, need planning, measurements, order (if only you understood how much I truly enjoy leveling off a cup of flour...).
Now that I am the one at home all day, meal preparation is quickly becoming more of my responsibility. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cooking...as long as I have a very explicit recipe. Give me a bunch of ingredients and say "have at it!" and I'd either curl up in the fetal position on the kitchen floor or pelt you with said items. Or both. Though I'm sure my aim from the floor would be pretty poor.
(ShankRabbit's domain will forever and always be the grill. I know how it works and what to do...but it still scares the bejeebies out of me)
Last night I decided to try my hand at a childhood favorite - stuffed artichokes. My Sicilian great-grandmother used to make these for us quite a bit and I honestly haven't had one since (well over 15 years ago).
After a lengthy internet search, I deduced that the recipes are relatively the same. So, I melded my favorite ones and got to work.
I won't bore you with the recipe I created, but I will say that it was quite yummy (and thanks again to my hero, The CrockPot Lady, I was able to "set it and forget it" in my crock pot). And for anyone attempting to cook these on your own, here are some things to know:
1. I knew to trim the tips off the leaves, but I didn't know why...until I punctured my finger on one. Apparently, artichokes have thorns (they seem to be sharper the farther in you go).
2. When the directions say "tap the top of the artichoke to spread the leaves," they mean turn the artichoke upside down and smack it against the countertop. Seriously. The wider apart the leaves, the more stuffing you can shove in between (and the more yummy).
This right before it was cooked. They didn't hang around long enough for me to get an "after" photo.
That first taste was just as delicious as I remembered it. While I wasinhaling eating, I couldn't help but think fondly about my great-grandmother and how much I miss her (she was 98 years old when she passed in 1999). She was an amazing lady.
Now that I am the one at home all day, meal preparation is quickly becoming more of my responsibility. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cooking...as long as I have a very explicit recipe. Give me a bunch of ingredients and say "have at it!" and I'd either curl up in the fetal position on the kitchen floor or pelt you with said items. Or both. Though I'm sure my aim from the floor would be pretty poor.
(ShankRabbit's domain will forever and always be the grill. I know how it works and what to do...but it still scares the bejeebies out of me)
Last night I decided to try my hand at a childhood favorite - stuffed artichokes. My Sicilian great-grandmother used to make these for us quite a bit and I honestly haven't had one since (well over 15 years ago).
After a lengthy internet search, I deduced that the recipes are relatively the same. So, I melded my favorite ones and got to work.
I won't bore you with the recipe I created, but I will say that it was quite yummy (and thanks again to my hero, The CrockPot Lady, I was able to "set it and forget it" in my crock pot). And for anyone attempting to cook these on your own, here are some things to know:
1. I knew to trim the tips off the leaves, but I didn't know why...until I punctured my finger on one. Apparently, artichokes have thorns (they seem to be sharper the farther in you go).
2. When the directions say "tap the top of the artichoke to spread the leaves," they mean turn the artichoke upside down and smack it against the countertop. Seriously. The wider apart the leaves, the more stuffing you can shove in between (and the more yummy).
This right before it was cooked. They didn't hang around long enough for me to get an "after" photo.
That first taste was just as delicious as I remembered it. While I was
Monday, April 20, 2009
My swingset story
I was a young'un - maybe 9 or 10. My brother (we'll call him "T") and I were playing in the backyard of my Aunt M's and Uncle J's house. They lived in a quiet little suburban neighborhood on a cul-de-sac. Compared to the north side of Chicago (where we lived), this area was beautiful and clean.
Aside from the odd apple-producing tree in the backyard, there was a metal swing set that, I believe, came with the house. It was basic - two swings (interchangeable with a pull-up bar), monkey bars, and a slide. That was how you rolled back in the day - no tree houses, ramps or rock-climbing walls like they have now.
One afternoon, T and I were running around when we heard a loud, deep dog bark. We knew immediately who's dog this was - the corner neighbor owned a Rottweiler that would bark and snap at us when we passed on our bikes heading to the park. But something wasn't right about this bark. It was too close.
That's when we saw the dog on the street. We panicked. We knew the dog was on its way to get us. T was closest to the house, so he immediately ran indoors. I was on the other side of the yard...and knew there was no way I'd make it inside before the dog entered the backyard. So, I hastily made my way to the top of the slide...hoping he didn't know how to climb up.
I remember a lot of screaming and crying atop the slide, with the dog barking and snarling at the base (he made it pretty far up the slide just by standing on his hind legs). I remember seeing my brother, horror-stricken and helpless, watching me from the door.
I don't remember what made the dog go away - was it the owner's call? Who knows. But I will always be grateful for that metal swing set.
I am sharing this story with you for two reasons:
1. I plan on sharing little bits and pieces about my memories of this house and my aunt and uncle (and their kids). This is a good place to start - get the bad memory out of the way.
2. There is a big spring contest over at Dad Blogs. You write a blog post and reference their giveaway and you can possibly win this:
A fully-loaded wooden swingset from Kid's Creations. Valued at $5,000!
And if that wasn't enough, they are throwing in a Canon PowerShot SD 1100.
Though this swingset won't protect Peanut from big, scary dogs (that wall would certainly do her in), it would still be a blast forus her to play on.
So, If you happen to check this giveaway out, please mention my name.
Aside from the odd apple-producing tree in the backyard, there was a metal swing set that, I believe, came with the house. It was basic - two swings (interchangeable with a pull-up bar), monkey bars, and a slide. That was how you rolled back in the day - no tree houses, ramps or rock-climbing walls like they have now.
One afternoon, T and I were running around when we heard a loud, deep dog bark. We knew immediately who's dog this was - the corner neighbor owned a Rottweiler that would bark and snap at us when we passed on our bikes heading to the park. But something wasn't right about this bark. It was too close.
That's when we saw the dog on the street. We panicked. We knew the dog was on its way to get us. T was closest to the house, so he immediately ran indoors. I was on the other side of the yard...and knew there was no way I'd make it inside before the dog entered the backyard. So, I hastily made my way to the top of the slide...hoping he didn't know how to climb up.
I remember a lot of screaming and crying atop the slide, with the dog barking and snarling at the base (he made it pretty far up the slide just by standing on his hind legs). I remember seeing my brother, horror-stricken and helpless, watching me from the door.
I don't remember what made the dog go away - was it the owner's call? Who knows. But I will always be grateful for that metal swing set.
I am sharing this story with you for two reasons:
1. I plan on sharing little bits and pieces about my memories of this house and my aunt and uncle (and their kids). This is a good place to start - get the bad memory out of the way.
2. There is a big spring contest over at Dad Blogs. You write a blog post and reference their giveaway and you can possibly win this:
A fully-loaded wooden swingset from Kid's Creations. Valued at $5,000!
And if that wasn't enough, they are throwing in a Canon PowerShot SD 1100.
Though this swingset won't protect Peanut from big, scary dogs (that wall would certainly do her in), it would still be a blast for
So, If you happen to check this giveaway out, please mention my name.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Hello Sesame Street, we meet again
Now that I've been home with Peanut for a few weeks now, we are settling into somewhat of a...routine. I fear using that word because once I do, she changes things up. Like her 10-11 hour sleeping stint lasted all of two nights. Now she's back to one middle of the night wake-up call.
Part of her morning rou...er, schedule...consists of a little bit of "quiet time." We snuggle and watch a kids show until it is time for her first nap of the day (favorite part of the day for me, hands down). And right when she's ready for quiet time, Sesame Street starts.
It's been a LONG time since I last watched Sesame Street. I remember watching this show every day right before afternoon kindergarten. Yep...it's been that long. I have babysat many children since that time, but they were all interested in the cool, new shows like Thomas the Tank Engine, Dragon Tales, and Dora.
And to all those knowing parents/caretakers out there, I'm sorry if I got any of those theme songs stuck in your head, because they are now in mine.
Although they've added many characters and segments, Sesame Street is still the same show it was many years ago. They still have a letter and number of the day. Gordon, Maria and Luis are still there with Big Bird, Bert and Ernie, Cookie Monster and Count von Count (among others).
As sappy as it sounds, I'm glad I get to share this with my daughter. It's fun, educational, and there is no part of it that drives me up the wall (I won't name shows, but there are some that are like nails on a chalkboard to me). AND...they have big name guest stars on each day - today it was Cuba Gooding, Jr. and Dr. Phil. Yesterday it was Jack Black and Feist.
I'm not afraid to admit it to everyone out there - I *heart* Sesame Street.
Part of her morning rou...er, schedule...consists of a little bit of "quiet time." We snuggle and watch a kids show until it is time for her first nap of the day (favorite part of the day for me, hands down). And right when she's ready for quiet time, Sesame Street starts.
It's been a LONG time since I last watched Sesame Street. I remember watching this show every day right before afternoon kindergarten. Yep...it's been that long. I have babysat many children since that time, but they were all interested in the cool, new shows like Thomas the Tank Engine, Dragon Tales, and Dora.
And to all those knowing parents/caretakers out there, I'm sorry if I got any of those theme songs stuck in your head, because they are now in mine.
Although they've added many characters and segments, Sesame Street is still the same show it was many years ago. They still have a letter and number of the day. Gordon, Maria and Luis are still there with Big Bird, Bert and Ernie, Cookie Monster and Count von Count (among others).
As sappy as it sounds, I'm glad I get to share this with my daughter. It's fun, educational, and there is no part of it that drives me up the wall (I won't name shows, but there are some that are like nails on a chalkboard to me). AND...they have big name guest stars on each day - today it was Cuba Gooding, Jr. and Dr. Phil. Yesterday it was Jack Black and Feist.
I'm not afraid to admit it to everyone out there - I *heart* Sesame Street.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
The last post got me reminiscing about my time as a foster child. I'll write more about my experience as this blog rolls along, but for now here is something that just popped into my head:
I didn't have a suitcase when I moved from home to home...I used black garbage bags. At times I would hold on to these bags for a while after I moved in case I needed to use them again. They would sit, folded up, in a corner of a closet or under my bed just like a regular suitcase. I wasn't until I was a freshman in high school (and in my final foster home) that I got my first duffel bag. Such a simple item, but it made me feel important.
A few years later, I read about Suitcases for Kids, a service project that is dedicated to the collection of duffel bags and suitcases for kids in foster care.
Duh! This made so much sense. Unfortunately, there was nothing like this in Chicago when I was "in the system," but I was thankful it was created for all those other kids out there.
If you are interested in participating, visit the link above. It gives all the information you need to start a collection in your area.
I didn't have a suitcase when I moved from home to home...I used black garbage bags. At times I would hold on to these bags for a while after I moved in case I needed to use them again. They would sit, folded up, in a corner of a closet or under my bed just like a regular suitcase. I wasn't until I was a freshman in high school (and in my final foster home) that I got my first duffel bag. Such a simple item, but it made me feel important.
A few years later, I read about Suitcases for Kids, a service project that is dedicated to the collection of duffel bags and suitcases for kids in foster care.
Duh! This made so much sense. Unfortunately, there was nothing like this in Chicago when I was "in the system," but I was thankful it was created for all those other kids out there.
If you are interested in participating, visit the link above. It gives all the information you need to start a collection in your area.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Why I save...
Hello, my name is Isabella, and I'm a pack rat.
I've always been this way. We didn't have much money growing up so anything I got, I saved. For example, my parents weren't the sentimental types...so if I did really well on a spelling test I would hang it up in my room, not on the fridge like many other families did. This led to many folders full of graded classwork and projects littering my room.
Even moving out of my parents' house (at age 11) I kept up my pack rat ways. But in the process of moving from one foster home to the other - at times with only an hour's notice - I lost a lot of things. But this didn't stop me from trying to save what others might throw away...ticket stubs, class notes, papers/projects for school, etc. This is what I did to bring "home" with me wherever I ended up. It was familiar and it was mine.
I am much better now. I wasn't terrible about it, but I have learned to cut back. Now most of the clutter on my desk and in various parts of the house are due to not wanting to sort through the crap and throw it out...not because I have an attachment to it.
So, admit it...any other pack rats out there?
I've always been this way. We didn't have much money growing up so anything I got, I saved. For example, my parents weren't the sentimental types...so if I did really well on a spelling test I would hang it up in my room, not on the fridge like many other families did. This led to many folders full of graded classwork and projects littering my room.
Even moving out of my parents' house (at age 11) I kept up my pack rat ways. But in the process of moving from one foster home to the other - at times with only an hour's notice - I lost a lot of things. But this didn't stop me from trying to save what others might throw away...ticket stubs, class notes, papers/projects for school, etc. This is what I did to bring "home" with me wherever I ended up. It was familiar and it was mine.
I am much better now. I wasn't terrible about it, but I have learned to cut back. Now most of the clutter on my desk and in various parts of the house are due to not wanting to sort through the crap and throw it out...not because I have an attachment to it.
So, admit it...any other pack rats out there?
Friday, December 5, 2008
Tag! You're it!
I've never been tagged online before. It sure beats running around and getting pushed to the ground (hey, I was a skinny klutz of a kid...someone tags me while I was running and my face frequently met the pavement).
Rules
1. Link the person who tagged you:
Dwell & Cultivate
check
2. Post the rules on your blog.
check
3. Share seven random or weird facts about yourself.
(Listed below)
check
4. Tag seven others and include links to their blogs.
Um, from what I recall, almost everyone on my blog roll has done this already...maybe not Nate.
5. Let each of the other people know by commenting on their blog.
Check.
Without further ado, here are 7 facts about me -
1. I have "spider toes." I can pick up objects, play various instruments, and clasp them together like hands. I'd post a picture, but they are scary. The only time this ever has any practical application is when I'm holding Peanut - she drops a lot of things.
2. I'm a food separatist. Different food items cannot touch on my plate - and if they do, the touched part of each item is not eaten. I've been known to create "food dams" so that this infiltration doesn't occur across my whole plate.
3. The story of how I learned to jump rope: I was in kindergarten and we were performing "Teddy Bear Picnic" for our school assembly. During class one day, the teacher was dividing the class in two sections - those who would just sing, and those who would sing and jump rope. Jumping rope sounded so cool, so I told her I could. It didn't occur to me until I got home from school that I would actually have to jump rope...in front of the whole school. I told all the adults at home (we lived in a three-flat...mom, dad, aunt, grandma, great grandma) that I needed to learn how to jump rope RIGHT NOW! I think I spent a good week or two practicing every night. When it came time for the performance, I was one of the best teddy bear jump ropers out there...at least I think so.
4. I have no idea what rhubarb tastes like. I've wanted to try it on many occasions, but never did.
5. I am very inconsistent with my pronunciation of the words "coupon" (koo-pahn / keew-pahn) and "envelope" (en-veh-lope / ahn-veh-lope). I have no idea why I change it up - and I'll do it during the same conversation. It drives my hubby crazy.
6. I was a member of the Chicago Children's Choir when I was in elementary school, Show Choir in high school (although I had to drop out right away due to scheduling conflicts), and Gospel Choir in college. Nowadays, you'll NEVER hear me sing in public. No sir.
7. Even though I have mild vertigo, I went up in the St. Louis arch - twice. Both times I couldn't stand when I got to the top and had to crawl my way back to the elevator. Chalk it up to jr. high peer pressure. Hey, at least I wasn't smokin' the reefer.
Rules
1. Link the person who tagged you:
Dwell & Cultivate
check
2. Post the rules on your blog.
check
3. Share seven random or weird facts about yourself.
(Listed below)
check
4. Tag seven others and include links to their blogs.
Um, from what I recall, almost everyone on my blog roll has done this already...maybe not Nate.
5. Let each of the other people know by commenting on their blog.
Check.
Without further ado, here are 7 facts about me -
1. I have "spider toes." I can pick up objects, play various instruments, and clasp them together like hands. I'd post a picture, but they are scary. The only time this ever has any practical application is when I'm holding Peanut - she drops a lot of things.
2. I'm a food separatist. Different food items cannot touch on my plate - and if they do, the touched part of each item is not eaten. I've been known to create "food dams" so that this infiltration doesn't occur across my whole plate.
3. The story of how I learned to jump rope: I was in kindergarten and we were performing "Teddy Bear Picnic" for our school assembly. During class one day, the teacher was dividing the class in two sections - those who would just sing, and those who would sing and jump rope. Jumping rope sounded so cool, so I told her I could. It didn't occur to me until I got home from school that I would actually have to jump rope...in front of the whole school. I told all the adults at home (we lived in a three-flat...mom, dad, aunt, grandma, great grandma) that I needed to learn how to jump rope RIGHT NOW! I think I spent a good week or two practicing every night. When it came time for the performance, I was one of the best teddy bear jump ropers out there...at least I think so.
4. I have no idea what rhubarb tastes like. I've wanted to try it on many occasions, but never did.
5. I am very inconsistent with my pronunciation of the words "coupon" (koo-pahn / keew-pahn) and "envelope" (en-veh-lope / ahn-veh-lope). I have no idea why I change it up - and I'll do it during the same conversation. It drives my hubby crazy.
6. I was a member of the Chicago Children's Choir when I was in elementary school, Show Choir in high school (although I had to drop out right away due to scheduling conflicts), and Gospel Choir in college. Nowadays, you'll NEVER hear me sing in public. No sir.
7. Even though I have mild vertigo, I went up in the St. Louis arch - twice. Both times I couldn't stand when I got to the top and had to crawl my way back to the elevator. Chalk it up to jr. high peer pressure. Hey, at least I wasn't smokin' the reefer.
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