Monday, May 12, 2008

Snakes and Snails and Puppydog Tails....give me a break!

Three boys. Was I crazy?! Well, once you're already a thousand miles away from home and sleeping in a strange bed, it's sort of too late to reconsider. Not that I did, because I was ready for anything. Bring on all the Pokemon and Zelda you got! I mean, I can maneuver a cardboard sword better than the any of them!

Well, I was not prepared for Tristan. Not in a negative way, but that fiery, imaginative little 4-year-old stole my heart...and kept me on my toes! I wish I had written down every cute, impressive, and unbelievable comment that boy spouted that summer of 2002. This blog would write itself, draw millions of readers, and keep them in stitches for years!

Ok, well maybe not that extreme.

To say Tristan was one-of-a-kind is too cliched a descriptive phrase for him. Not only did he come up with the most outrageous thoughts and ideas, by jove, he believed them!

A few days into my Boston nanny adventures, Tristan found a blue, ripped up, ratty Walmart bag on the street. Immediately he insisted it was his "ghost".

We had planned on a relaxing couple hours at the park that afternoon. Tristan would not leave Ghost at home. He would get far too "lonely" and "sad". Well, ok.

Once at the park, I began to push Tristan on the swings. Before I could let go of the chain Tristan stated that Ghost would also like me to push "him" in the swing next to us.

Yeah.

Everything was peaches until a man and his daughter arrived on the scene. She wanted to sit on the swing our Mr. Ghost was having such a wonderful time riding in. How dare she? You just don't swipe somebody off the swing before their turn is up. Wait your turn, Pigtails!

How was I to break this to her and her sensible daddy?

Before I could figure out what to say, the unthinkable happened. The bad man slowed the swing, picked up the shopping bag (garbage, in his mind), and preceded to the - dun dun duuuuuun - trash can.

By this time Tristan had caught a glimpse of Mr. Ghost's jagged fingers calling for him to save him, as his wispy blue body floated down into the black hole barrel of death.

I tell ya, I have yet to see "bloody murder" even remotely similar to the terror I witnessed in that child's countenance that day.

"He's kil-ling hiiiiiiim!" Just ten times worse than that.

Utter joy and happiness to downright horror and despair in half a second flat.

I'd like to say I was a good nanny. A sacrificial nanny, even. If it took every ounce of humility in my being, I was going to keep a child smiling.

So I did it.

I approached the trash can. "Um....excuse me, sir?"

A look of surprise crossed the the man's face.

"That's, um, actually my charge's, um...ghost."

He squinted his eyes at me in confusion, and then disgust, as if he would like to report me to Child Protective Services for allowing an innocent child to play with such an unsanitary and dangerous object as a dirty plastic bag.

Meanwhile, Tristan was still sitting in the swing, pathetically bawling his head off.

"Oh, and, um, it wasn't finished riding the swing..."

The things I do for sanity! And anyway, what business has a grown man - a father, no less - throwing away a child's playtoy! Some people!

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Live, Laugh, Love

There's nothing like posting pictures to force you to write something.

Those at the end of this post were taken the evening before my dad passed away (4/19/08). We decided to visit one of our favorite places in the county, Piney Point Lighthouse. Of course, we couldn't have known these would be my dad's last few hours, but what a wonderful way to celebrate his Homegoing!

I have lots of groups of pictures to share; I just hadn't felt the motivation to upload any of them to Blogger until now. But I wanted to express that we still have joy, and that we continue to embrace all the life God is so gracious to give us. I admit that is has been difficult to get back into the "groove" of daily responsibility ever since, well, we found out about my dad's illness back in February. We haven't been eating extremly healthy (though we're working on it), and I haven't been super obsessive about scrubbing floors or ironing shirts. (What in the world?!) For the time being, making it through the week without too much stress is my goal. And I'm good with that right now.

However, Jeromy and I have recently made a point to include some fun activities every few days, which has been therapeutic in many ways. It is so absolutely necessary to take breathers once in a while, to just stop the crazy life and let yourself enjoy.

Last weekend we took the Metro up to D.C. It was actually our first ever "date" in the city, and it was a gorgeous day! The main attraction for the trip was a theatrical production of C.S. Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." The coolest part was the lead role, played by extremely talented Bible-on-CD voice Max McLean. The play was actually a monologue, but included a just as crucial second supporting role; a demon/pet/companion/scribe to Uncle Screwtape. She mainly screeched and snorted throughout the production, yet helped to keep the audience engaged. Especially since Mr. McLean speaks in a very heavy British accent, which I love, but which can be somewhat difficult to understand when spoken so quickly. Every verbal and bodily expression was well crafted, however, as well as the props and the set. All quite creative.

Before and after the show (we are fans of the matinee!), Jeromy and had some time to meander around the city, tour a couple museums, and eat at a really neat place called Teaism where, ironically, I tasted the utmost hellfire and brimstone. I specifically ordered my curry chicken with "mild" peppers, and now I am curious as to what the "hot" curry must be like. Fire-breathing dragon comes to mind. All in all, the jaunt to D.C. was well worth it.

Yesterday I attended a Ladies Spring Tea at church. A few ladies signed up to host a table, for which they brought their pretty china place settings for us to eat off of. Made a girl kind of nervous while carrying a plate to the food table, hoping she wouldn't drop or chip anything! Since I'm not super proactive in seeking out female fellowship, I'm glad I went, and enjoyed some "girl time". And, once you get wind of ultra delicious menu item goodies such as chicken salad croissant-wiches, cranberry-orange scones, and lemon bars, you have no choice but to sign up at once!

And I don't even like tea!

Also yesterday we attended the long anticipated 40th birthday party of our good friend, Joe, (who is pictured in the next post, seated next to Sandy). We were given the pleasure of meeting his parents, who live in the lush and picturesque state of Vermont (of which I want to marry). A few other friends also joined the party, and it turned into an afternoon of great fun and fellowship. It had been raining all weekend (and is still coming down strong) but the rain held off for literally the duration of the party, and that's it! And of course, we ate lots of food. Joe cooked for his guests on his very own birthday - kabobs, no less. Now that's just not right! Especially not right was the fact that I was faced with even more mountains of highly delectable (correction: highly caloric) choices! Oh. My. Goodness. Besides the kabobs there was: chips and dip, strawberries and dip, potato salad, macaroni salad, regular salad, bruschetta (heavenly, btw), cookies, cake, ice cream...

Ahem. It goes without saying that we ate light today.

Next weekend we look forward to treating Joe out to a birthday movie. We're going to see Prince Caspian. It's really more for Jeromy than for Joe, to be honest with you. He finished reading the whole Narnia series a couple months back and has been waiting anxiously for this movie ever since! That means I have less than a week to finish the book. I just started chapter 2. Yeah. We'll see about that.

Watch for more pics (especially from the above events) coming soon! :)
















We had stopped at the A&W on our way to Piney Point that night. My dad would have been jealous.

















Jeromy walking up the beach. I collected a few little white shells!
















Sun starting to set.
















Now that's what I'm talking about!
















Piney Point - the most visited lighthouse by U.S. presidents, no kidding! And the spot where we got engaged March 12, 2006. Thus began the whirlwind of planning a wedding in exactly 5 months! Jer was supposed to take me to the top of the lighthouse to propose, but the caretakers forgot to keep it unlocked. Doh!





















The dock. We've spent many an hour at the water's edge.





















The bell. Ding.
















You can't even muffle it after you ring it. It's stinkin' heavy.
















"No, we can't put this in our living room!"

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

What now?

Thoughts of my dad seem to hit most when I am forced to sit still. Which is usually while I'm lying in bed or driving to and from work. The last time I spoke to my dad was on my way home from work, and the scenery always reminds me of him. I don't struggle a whole lot any other time of the day. (Probably because I otherwise never sit still!) But during these alone times, sometimes the tears just spill uncontrollably.

This morning I checked email right before walking out the door, and Jeromy had just sent a forward from a co-worker, which stated that the husband of another of his co-worker's passed away on Sunday. From cancer. Exactly two weeks after my dad. We plan on attending at least the viewing this week. An engineer by trade but crafter by hobby, Sandy arranged some of the flowers for our wedding. She even drove us all the way to Williamsburg Pottery a few months ahead of time to choose silks. She is the sweetest woman. I'm not sure what type of cancer her husband suffered from, but it doesn't matter. I just need to hug her.















This is Sandy, with her back to the camera (on the right). Sorry I don't have a better picture. This was at our rehersal dinner. Oh, and I just noticed my dad wearing yellow in the background!















Some of Sandy's handiwork. She also did a beautiful job on the large platform arrangements.

Of course, this news set off a snot ball of emotions. I've been at work a half hour already, and the tears still won't stop. I can't tell you how I have rejoiced for my dad's arrival to heaven; to all-encompassing bliss and happiness, leaving behind all the pain and difficulty he experienced here on earth even before his cancer. Yet, I cry when I think about having to wait to share life with him again. We immensely enjoy the lifetime God grants us, but sometimes it seems entirely too long. We want this life and the life to come all at the same time. It is not abnormal to want to experience holidays, births, family functions, conversations, jokes, movies, and every mundane aspect of life you can think of with our loved one. What will Christmas be like without him now? Or Father's Day? I think about how I never got to meet my maternal grandfather, since he died of cancer the year before I was born, and now I desire to whisk away the irony that my future children will neither get to meet theirs. I am so torn between feeling relief that my dad's suffering is over, and devastation at his absence.

Semi trucks seem to trigger thoughts of my dad like nothing else. Which could also serve as a reason I miss him during my commute. When I see those big rigs on the road I can't stand them. They are what kept my dad from a good night's sleep in over two decades. They are what kept him from eating well and taking care of his body. They are what kept him away from his family far too much. Besides the long hours, receiving much of any time off seemed an extremely difficult task with this company, even for doctor visits. I am trying not to let that bother me, I confess that sometimes it does. I am bitter when I see truck drivers because I know my dad was not the stereotypical "trucker". He did not look, or act the part. My dad did not love his job, and his family didn't much either.

But his work is over. He will never have to start up a diesel engine in a -40 degree windchill again. I will never again have to worry about my dad on icy roads - or any road for that matter! He is far, far away from the daily grind. A truck should not have to remind me of the negativity it brought into my dad's life, but the positive. It should remind me of my dad's provision for his family, for his love and care for us. Trucking did not define my dad. Jesus did. His family did. His personality did. And he has finally rested from his labors and is at this minute anticipating the day when we will rest from ours.

But, I still miss him.