Things have been a bit crazy ’round here the last couple of months. Vio started school (Pre-K). Roo is out-talking all of us. To a seriously painful degree. Where our weekends and evenings before were spent staring at walls and repeating the age old, “Well, what do YOU want to do?”, it now seems like we’re hardly ever home.
I keep THINKING about writing here, but I never get around to it. I keep falling asleep with Roo at naptime, exhausted after the 3-mile roundtrip noontime in the HAYELL of Florida heat walk to pick Vio up from school and a morning spent with a 22-month-old who must get her talking gene from my father’s mother, who adopted him.
Hey, neat. That part of me that can whip out a run-on sentence is still fully functional! And here I thought my skill set was getting watered down.
Then, in the evening, mostly all I want to do is stare at mind-numbing television. Or super AWESOME television. I’m head over heels for Lie to Me, and now Tim Roth is the narrator in my brain. It’s ruined all other television for me. I watch CSI, and all I can think is, “Get Cal Lightman in here! He’ll tell you if this dude is lying!!”
I think that’s healthy.
Hmm. What else.
Vio. Vio and I have started reading chapter books at bedtime. The first was Charlotte’s Web, and she absolutely loved it. She got sick twice last month. (So did I.) Thank you, school! She’s loving school; this is a relief, because the first week was a huge adjustment. She has homework, which boggles my mind. She is four years old! She’s got the next twenty years to do homework. It makes me all get-off-my-lawny. See this, heavens? It is my tiny fist, and I shake it somewhat angrily in your general direction.
Roo. Roo is a spitfire. I can’t come up with a better way to describe her. She never stops talking, and she speaks in full paragraphs. She goes “AH!” whenever she gets something she wants or just because she knows we think it’s cute. She narrates every passing moment of our lives. This is how a typical drive in the car goes:
I SEE A BIG THING I SEE A YITTLE THING! I SEE A CLOUD I SEE A GOAT I SEE A BUS! VAVA I SEE A BUS DO YOU SEE A BUS? I HAVE BUZZ YIGHTYEAR YOU HAVE WOODY I HAVE BUZZ YOU HAVE WOODY. HI WOODY, MY NAME BUZZ YIGHTYEAR!
Then she’ll complain she can’t hear the radio, and she has no idea that the noise blaring over it is coming out of her own face.
I’ve started weaning her. It’s been pretty slow and steady, with my goal being mostly done by the time I leave for The Blathering (which is in just one month! I can’t wait! More on my panic over that later!) (Exclamationz!!) We’re down to nursing before bed and first thing in the morning. The bedtime one will be easy enough to drop (she’s already stopped requesting it some nights) but the morning will be difficult. I’m pretty weepy about the whole thing, but also ready to be done and so so grateful I was able to nurse her these 22 months.
Really, most time has been spent tending to Grandma Val’s things. I’ve cataloged a ton of her stuff and put it up on Flickr for out-of-town family to look through. We had a garage sale to clear out some of the day-to-day, less sentimental clutter. It was really, really hard. At the end of the day, I sat down on the floor and just cried. It still doesn’t make sense that she’s gone. The girls have handled it really well, aside from a few crying fits from Vio when she wanted to see her in that first couple of weeks. She’s doing better now.
Tonight, in the car, on the way to her house, the girls had this conversation as I clenched Matt’s hand and forced all but a handful of tears to stay in my eyeballs:
Vio: We’re going to Grandma Val’s house, Roo!
Roo: Yay! I YOVE Grandma Val!
Vio: She’s not there anymore, Roo.
Roo: Oh. I see her other time then.
Vio: She’s in heaven now.
Her little voice trailed off, and that was that.
I don’t think I really ever thanked everyone for all the kind words in the days following her passing. It meant a lot to me and Matt. Your prayers and love lifted us up, and I continue to feel that love every day as I dilly-dally along with so many of you on this splendid internet. Thanks, pretties. And thanks for bearing with me while I dust off this here blog.
(They’re … still called BLOGS, right?)