Too Much

Too early on the Monday of Thanksgiving vacation (x 20).  Why can't my internal clock just stay asleep a little longer I ask.  It seems cruel and unusual punishment to not sleep late on days when you have the opportunity.

In the last couple of weeks we have found the man's half-sister that was given up for adoption 46 years ago.  It has been the most exhilarating, and scary/terrifying, experience.  The last time I have felt both excitement and nervousness to that level was on my wedding day.  It's kind of hard to describe.

Yet me, in all of my being myself, is still curious, still wondering (about things that are really not my business).  And then asking, when is something too much? Too much excitement? Too much clinginess?  Too much "I think I know you so well"? Do I not have the ability to step back, give room, not seek?  What are you seeking?  Why do you "come on so strong"? I am definitely in awe of people who have a laid back, blase, no rush attitude, who don't need another human to verify them.  I can only aspire.

In the mist of the most wonderful news ever is also the acknowledgement that everything is not a bed of roses, all easy, and wonderful feelings. This is the other side of the effects of life-changing decisions. How do you fill the void that someone is missing when the person with the answers has gone already?  How do you take away the feeling of rejection, no matter the circumstances then and now? And the hurt, pain, and sadness that have been around for a lifetime?  There is no magic eraser but there is definitely a heavy heart here knowing that someone is feeling that, and try as you might, you don't have the ability to fix it. Pray mighty big, that God can heal the hurts and fill the holes is the most my mind can think of. 

Just For Fun

Ladies, WITHOUT prompting, ask your husband/boyfriend/fiancé these questions and write EXACTLY what they say. The outcome can be hilarious.

•What is something I always say?
What do you think?

•What makes me happy? 
Sam Heughan with no clothes on

•What makes me sad?
not being around my old family so much

•How tall am I? 
5’ 6’

•What's my favorite thing to do? 
scrapbooking and editing pics on computer

•What do I do when you're not around?
scrapbooking, editing pics, facebooking, visiting family

•If I become famous, what will it be for? 
biggest Outlander fan

•What makes you proud of me? 
your motherly skills

•What is my favorite food?
some type of corn tortilla, dip, avocado

What is my favorite restaurant? 
Tampico’s

•Where is my favorite place to visit?
Viet fu-- Nam

•If I could go anywhere, where would it be?
Vietnam

•Do you think you could live without me?
I didn’t ask him. (He has so I’m sure he could)

•How do I annoy you?
you’re doing it now (asking him questions). Not paying bills

•What is my favorite movie? 
Dirty Dancing, Grease, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

•Who is my celebrity crush?
that dude Jamie

•You get a phone call that says I'm in trouble, who am I with?
Jessica (he started to say Toni).

I Once was Where You Are

 Yes, I once was where you are.  I felt like you, thought like you.  It's almost unsettling. So many thoughts. Thoughts about family, about the guy on the receiving end of my love and affection, about spending nights together, cuddling, about careers and setting the world on fire.

  Then life happened. We got caught up in life. Babies, jobs, attention from the wrong places, stress, overwhelmed, non-communication, rejection, lies. The best of times, the worst of times.  Very cliche but very true.

   No one starts out in the prime of their life and hopes to not only do stupid things, but hurtful things.  Don't be judgmental. You simply never know what bridge you will have to cross, even when it seems like the most FAR-FETCHED  idea ever.  It can happen to you.

  Be careful on those judgements. I don't promise many things but I do promise they will come back to you. It's the reap what you sow logistics of life.

   Pick your arguments. Being "right" isn't all it's cracked up to be.  My right may not be your right at this moment, and it may never be. But there may come a day, when you not only understand but actually change your view of this "right".  I have done it more than once. Ironically, it seems the older I get, the more it happens.  It's all about perception, experience, and current spot in life.

You Simply Can't Imagine

My cousin.  Younger.  One of 10.  Jaimie. Third child of my mom's youngest sister. Nothing seems especially peculiar, outstanding, or any aha about that, unless you hold her close to your heart.

   When she came along, I remember my mom (her Nanny) driving from Broussard with us in the backseat, like a crazy person, so she could get to the hospital soon enough to be there when Jaimie came into the world.
  We stayed at my aunt's house with my great-grandmaw Barrilleaux.  I remember me, Paul (Aunt Sherry's oldest), and Grandmaw Barrilleaux laying in the bed.  And the call coming in sometime in the middle of the night.  Sherry had given birth to a baby girl.  My first thought was "oh my gosh", it's Paul's birthday! August 15.
And then she came home.  Maybe we were there, maybe we weren't.  But all of mom's pictures were not good.  The hair spray can had busted in the bag with the film.  She looked like Shaula.  And we would call her Shaula, ALL THE TIME.

   And then she grew.  At some point, she became the one we got to take, here, there, where ever.  She was easy going, quiet, calm (not that everyone else wasn't.  We were a pretty calm bunch.)
   She spent time with me, and Rick.  Just loved having her around.  It wasn't a thought.  I really can't imagine why she would have enjoyed being with any of us.  She came to college with me.  I even think she had to sit in the hall (please forgive me!!!).  She came to our friends' house.  She hung out at home.  She brought us the flowers for our moms when we got married.  She is Hannah's godmother (one of the most noblest "jobs" ever).
   She reminds me, or makes me realize things about myself that I have never known or noticed (evidently I say excuse me under my breath when I burp.  I NEVER NOTICED THIS, and definitely didn't think anyone else did either).  I talk about anything, deepest fears, highest moments, doubts, battles, so much, and she just nods her head like that's okay.  I don't know if she agrees, or not, but I always feel I am normal (surely I am extreme one way or the other, no doubt).
   And no matter life's road for her, an adventure always, I feel as if my dreams are absolutely channeled through her (yes, that sounds way too deep).  And I stand in awe.  Not letting fear, the unknown, any of the above halt you in any way is always my thought.
  She had a little heart surgery last year.  I had an aunt, a precious and very close aunt, that had open heart surgery the year I graduated from high school.  She was a diabetic, and her husband was a Jehovah's witness.  She needed blood.  He refused to give it to her.  She was my grandmother's sister, one of her closest.  My grandmother and her siblings went to a judge to get a court order for the doctors to give her blood.  The doctors were blunt, "If she doesn't receive blood soon, she will die."  She did die.  I was devastated.  But there is something about losing a loved one at 18, as opposed to 40-something.  Age definitely changes perception, and how much you appreciate the scope of the person and all that they entail.  So, when it was Jaimie's turn for surgery, it became a battle between being "strong" and making sure she knew every possible thing I thought she needed to know if God wanted to take her home.  And if I went with the "tell her everything" mindset, how much faith is that?  And then how much fear am I adding to what must already be a scary situation?  I don't think I unloaded all of my thoughts (my memory is shady at best).
    Are you ever just scared that someone may not know how much you love them?  How "proud" you are of them (even when it is not your place, or you don't have a right to be proud.  That's a parent position)?  How thankful you are that they let you love them?  It really is just that simple.  Just in case you don't know.


 

A Grandpaw and a Gun

    

    I don't know if this picture matches the Easter we spent with my grandparents, the memory seems to match the age. 

My Grandmaw Irene, Grandpaw Lloyd, Kim, Karen and me. 

   My cousin, Kim, no doubt my first best friend. No matter when we had the chance to see each other, from my earliest memory of her, it was always a happy time. I was always excited. 

   This Easter, I remember her and I sleeping on a fold-out sofa bed. When we woke up in the morning, the Easter baskets were no where to be found. I I can still see so clearly, Kim and I sitting on the bed and looking at my Grandpaw at the door. His story: he shot the Easter Bunny when he was jumping out of the window, and that was why we didn't have any Easter baskets! The thought that the bunny was dead was just horrible, my little child mind couldn't grasp that idea. Thinking about it now ,

I'm not surprised by his story, it was his niche-storytelling. 

   And the final memory, walking in the front room, my grandparent's room, and finding our baskets sitting there. I still have the basket. 💛💚💜

I LOVE

I LOVE.....

• how you don't ask in the morning how work is going.  Heck, you don't ask at all, any time during the day. 
• how you don't ask how I'm feeling, ever.  
• how you don't dance with me, regardless of the occasion.  I simply appreciate more the ones who did (you know those precious friends who would twirl me around the floor), and the times I get to take pictures at events and watch others dance, all the time thinking those ladies have won the lottery and don't even know it. 
• how you only wash your own dish and not all the others that are stacked up.  It's a great reminder that no one will take care of me but me. 
• how you don't call me baby.  Not because you don't know how to call someone baby but because you don't look at me that way.  You call our daughter baby.  It's the perfect vision of your perception.  It is the most stark reminder of those that have special nicknames. It makes me appreciate them even more.  
• how you give me a hard time about drinking any kind of beverage.  You miss out on the me that is a bit more carefree, fun, cheesy.  Just different ;-)
• how you don't like to spend so much time with family, near and far.  It makes me appreciate them and my time with them even more.  They wrap me in the good stuff. I feel comfortable around them and know it's okay to be me.  
• how you don't ever ask what you can do to help, with anything.  I see you're drowning, don't worry about the clothes, the dishes, the house.  Oh, you need me to stack some papers for you, put them in alphabetical order?  No problem, I can do that in a few minutes.  Nope, never.  
• how you control the remote EVERY SINGLE DAY AND NIGHT.  If you are in the house, it doesn't matter if I want to watch something, I better go sit in the room, alone, and watch it because it won't be with you.  
• how every conversation is diabolical and manipulated because you simply can't imagine that people do not have an ulterior motive.  That maybe, just maybe, they don't think that deeply about simple things.  The deep stuff is saved for the big things, like emotions and love.  
• how you like to hug on a pillow or a blanket that ends up between us.  It hurts my back so much and pushes me so far away from you.  Another opportunity for me to be thankful for those that loved freely, and didn't feel the need to hold back affection for any reason at all. 
• how you are so judgmental of physical appearance and beauty.  I become even more grateful for the love of my body.  There are some who can desire a person, regardless of physical attributes.  Desire is a mighty powerful thing (the most powerful for me.  I don't think you've noticed that).  
• how you disregard tears.  In fact, I'm pretty sure you have never cried.  
• how our children have some of my most sincerest personality traits.  I have no doubt how that's going to benefit them.  
• how so many actions, by others, that I tell you are out of line but somehow you make me sound irrational.  Maybe I'm too much of a feeling=actions kind of person.  Or my loyalty is entirely too great and too deep.  

It's an addiction

My memory is kept by the pictures. Almost to a point that is scary. Everything is visual. Even when I write, I write as if I'm trying to create a picture with words. My happiness is looking at the moments frozen in time or the videos with movement and talking. My memories fade quickly, I can't hear the voice, don't remember the words. At this moment in my life, I think my "niche" is putting words and pictures together. I want to use pictures to tell every story as a record of the moment, or a person's personal story or just thoughts where you find the pictures that match the words. 

No doubt my retirement is planned at 42. 

And it Worked!

Thanksgiving Week, a "little" cousin, a wedding, a road trip, and some magical lanterns.
Out of nine grandchildren, there are only two boys.  The oldest, Paul, got married on Friday.  A rare wedding opportunity in our family.  It's been a few years since we had one.  Our family is scattered a bit across the United States. But, somehow, the stars aligned and we managed to get a few of us together for the celebration. These magical lanterns.  My cousin found them.  I've seen them in movies, cartoons, but never quite understood how they worked.  And then to light them, and watch them float up like something magical was just the most wonderful thing in the world.  Take one off the bucket list!

Just a Piece of "China"

One plate of China from our wedding, a gift from
my great aunt

It was an extraordinary weekend.  My cousins were getting together, so myself and the daughter took a ride up to visit them.  Since both of my cousins were together at one time, I thought it would be perfect to bring some things that belonged to my grandparents -pictures and crystal-that needed to be shared.  Besides my dad, there are only us left.  Here we are with all of these possessions, and what to do with them as our families move forward in life.
     The one tote was full of crystal, I added the photos to it.  We went through it, they took home a significant amount.  But when I unpacked the tote initially, I came across this plate.  When the guy and I got married, I recalled not wanting to go to a special store and pick out "China" because 1) I was embarrassed, I simply didn't know what to do, and 2) I didn't think anyone in my family could afford it (or would buy it).  For the record, I didn't know how much China cost at all. Nor was everyone in my family destitute.
At my wedding shower, my grandpaw's oldest sister bought us this gift, a set of dishes that was "China".  I remember opening it and saying, "Ahhhhh, China!" I was very excited, I thought it was very pretty.  But today, I am nagged with the thought of how many of my family must have laughed at me.  It wasn't real China.  Essentially, probably, just a nicer set of dishes from Wal-Mart.  I was okay with the that because I thought they were beautiful and my aunt had bought it for me.
   Which leads me to a whole different thought.  For some reason, my family seems to break things.  My children break things, I break things. Meaningful things.  Things that need to be saved, cherished.  I am probably most happy by that set of dishes because I actually still have a few of the plates and saucers.  

She Shuffles Her Feet

My grandmaw. Christmas 2009 with my first cousin. Her, essentially her, always her. When I look at the picture I immediately think this is how she has always looked, although I know in reality she has aged in the last 37 years.

I notice on these days that she doesn't walk with the confidence that she did in the past. We went to one of her aunt's funeral. The rhythm of her steps had taken on a different beat, I could hear it. I was mesmerized by the simple action that said so much. So much that I don't want to see, accept, or hear. So much that she does not say.

My grandmother loves us in an amazing way, always has. She would rock us in her recliner when we were little, lay in bed with us until we went to sleep, make us breakfast. She does the same things with my children now. Many times I watch in awe until I am reminded (or remember) the days of being a little child and loving to be with my grandmother and grandfather. Always a constant support, stability and surety.

Now-today-this weekend, we are spending time in the hospital because she fell out of the bed and hurt herself. Her back gives her great pain. She can't stand up very well. I look on with unbelief. Is this the same woman who has run circles around me for most of my life? Who is my best friend? Who sees things in a way that most of us don't even think about. And I toss around the idea of life without her, thinking I am not ready. I talk to her everyday about my deepest fears. I see her almost every day. My children exist with her as a constant grandmother. She is my stronghold. No I cannot imagine life without her.

Still Trying

Sunday morning, after a week of vacation for Thanksgiving. Feeling as unmotivated as a snail on an uphill climb. The week has been far from pleasant, so unpleasant, turmoil, tears, and unsettled sleep. Unproductive in the most horrible way. Can't figure out most days if I am coming or going.
I have the most foul mood and it has been lingering for days. I can't quite figure out where it came from because I would surely send it back just as quickly. Even with the holiday season upon us my only thought is still, Lord let this time pass quickly. What if I had more money to buy presents? Would that bring a sense of "happiness" and calm? Uhhhmmmm, no it wouldn't. I know then I would anguish myself over rather or not it is the right gift, useful, blah blah blah.

What if my family was complete in one way or another? Would that answer my mood? No, I wouldn't trust him (whoever him may be), and I would still not be satisfied because the "situation" is not right. I think I will take this living arrangement then. I do not lose sleep over one person or another in my house being happy or satisfied. I do not concern myself with whether or not my actions are pleasing to another. My only concern is for my children and no matter any of the above circumstances, I would be concerned with all aspects of their life and how I affected it.

I have spent some of this vacation purging my storage totes. It started out as a Christmas material search but ended as a look back in time search. I found the tote with all of my wedding materials in it. So I started purging, and purging, and purging. I found a most disturbing journal entry. I wrote this during the spring of 96, before I was married and I was still in college. I was worried that I wasn't going to finish college, life was so difficult (if I only knew), dealing with my parents was difficult too. Yet, the most creapy think of all was at the very end of the journal entry. I was complaining of the idiot's job. He was in the jailer position and they were confirming and reassuring him that he would soon be on the road. I shared that I was worried that he would be unfaithful (what the he!!), he would be presented with an opportunity and would be WEAK. Oh sweet everything that is good and faithful in this world, how could I have had such thoughts about a person I was less than six months from marrying? And if I was having those thoughts, why in the world did I marry him anyway? Was that a prominition or just a thought because of something that had already happened and for the life of me I can't even imagine anything that had happened at that point in our lives. My heart was pure and I was walking into this agreement with the more confidence than I had ever felt about anything else in my life.

Is this God's way of telling me this is what it was all along even though I didn't even know it? I pray for guidance and forgiveness.

Ending Up Where You Started

I sit with my computer, wondering how much can I say, or not. Open your thoughts or not. Is it really opening when someone has already read them?

Insomnia has taken me again. Oh so tired, yet can't put my eyes to sleep. Sleep, oh so precious, leads to the dreams, even more precious. Dreams that open up.......what? I can't remember.

I started this post about six months ago. Of course, for the life of me I can't remember what I was writing. My cousin and me in the pics, when we were babies and about four I guess.

My cousin, the one who knows me better than most, has been around longer than most, has experienced things that only her and I have-no one else knows or would understand. My cousin, the one who likes some things I like, the one I can go to a book store with a never feel a minute of guilt or rush because she breaths it like me.

My cousin, the one who has walked through more than I could ever imagine, never gives up hope and refocuses me when I get lost in small town America.

My cousin, simply amazing.

Surprises, From the Most Amazing Places

Sometimes things happen that you don't understand. Actually, alot of things happen that you don't understand. And you think life can't go on. And life goes on. And you are grateful.

Teaching my students about the Declaration of Independence, and why the colonists were motivated to create a government on their own has led us down the most amazing story. Trying to convey to them the importance of the freedoms we experience and are endowed with in America is quite funny. Freedom of speech, such a simple concept right? They think yes, right. So that led us to blogging. And I showed them how essentially I could write anything I wanted (not really about other people), and post it. My inner most thoughts if I wanted.

And then my friend/coworker walked in on the teaching-discussion, and helped me with some simple spelling (thank you so much friend. I needed to come off of the pedastal of oh so excellent speller :-) And that lead to the why haven't you posted? Well, I don't know. Been through a difficult time, separation, divorce, living on my own for the first time in my life, and I don't know how many of those thoughts do we want on the world wide web.

So, I thought I would reflect on the day job (thanks again friend). That is a safe place.

Here is a pic, our end of the year crawfish boil. Our cafeteria manager (so sweet hearted, always something encouraging to say), my coworker/friend of 10 years, our comedian-in-residence/secretary, our fashion leader (one of many), and my future coworker. I felt such apprehension on this day. My 10 year coworker was moving to the high school. I knew she had played with the thought for years and I understood that. Sometimes elementary teaching can be overwhelming, a little bit of this and a little bit of that, throw in some children and a husband, and a house to take care of, and I crash. It was like going from that secure place to something you don't know. When you work with someone a long time, you know them, know how they think, what they like, you know them. And the unknown is scary.

My "new" coworker. We had actually been working together for just as long, not in the same grade but known each other none the less and interacted like people do. We were all part of the upstairs group, and that made interaction more than most. I know I wasn't scared but maybe eager? And now after working six months or so, it is fine. Much less stress, a whole lot easy.

And the cafeteria lady. On a very usual day at the beginning of a new school year, she came around to our rooms and picked up our lunch bags, like she would always do. And she fell down the stairs and hit her head. A brain injury. An injury that we were terrified would take her away from us. But God didn't. She is here, she is okay, she is alive, and we are grateful.

Gut Wrenching, Horrible-Still Looking for Answers

This summer-unforgettable, traumatic, no words to describe. The summer started easy enough. A short three week stint at the local college, getting paid to go to school and learning a little bit more about science. Lots of fun.
Then, the last week of school my grandmother's sister became really sick. They said she had a heart attack in church. She spent the week in the hospital. A few days in ICU. Then she was stable enough and doing well enough to go in a regular room. I brought my grandmother up to see her every night. Feeling tired but devastated, wanting to make sure my grandmother had an opportunity to be with her. On the Wednesday (I think), my cousin called and said my aunt wanted to hear my uncle play his guitar, could he please go to her hospital room that evening and play. He did. I couldn't stay in the room. I thought it was too difficult. Knowing what I thought she knew was near. It was just too difficult.

As we finished school that Friday, I was so excited. Finally, the summer was just beginning. In the meantime, my grandfather's health had been getting worse. He was having trouble walking. Falling sometimes. We had called home health so that he could be offered services at home. The doctors had said he had arthiritis and it was causing him a lot of pain. My mother-in-law was also not doing well. She couldn't walk around anymore, needed help going to the restroom, and wasn't going to dialysis like she needed. She had come and spent a weekend with us at the beginning of the summer. Her and I woke up early in the morning and talked, just us, alone. I made coffee for her and toast bread. Gave her medicine (she took out the ones she didn't like). She told me she loved me and she knew I loved her family. It felt good and scary at the same time. Ever since I began to date her son, she had always seemed to like me. Then after our trip to Vietnam, there were things only her and I could talk about. Like we had a secret no one else understood. Seeing her unhealthy was hard, it was really overwhelming to realize she couldn't do all of the things for herself that she could before and how incompetent we were in helping her.

On that Friday afternoon, someone called and said she had threw up and passed out. I went to the trailer, then to the hospital, waiting with my brother-in-law. The doctor called us, said she had a stroke and there was bleeding in her brain. He said call the family. I think I refused to believe him at that point. It couldn't happen yet, not now. That evening they transferred her to Thibodaux, did surgery to relieve the blood in her brain, and then she was stable. The doctor seemed encouraged. No, she may not come home like she was but she could get better. It wasn't her time yet. We went home that morning about 2am. At about 6am, my aunt passed away.
On Monday, they buried my aunt. On Monday, I helped my grandfather walk to the restroom-he fell. I put him in the bed-he slept alot. The doctor's office called and said an x-ray of his back showed he had only arthiritis. I felt devastated. How could that be. He couldn't walk anymore. He was talking in another language, his words didn't make any sense. And this was arthiritis? I couldn't believe it. I told him I loved him that day and waited to hear the words come back. He said he loved me too.

I had also spent the days going to see my mother-in-law, in the morning, in the evening. Sitting there, talking to her, holding her hand, thanking God for healing her so we could take her home and take care of her. I know God is a miracle worker and I believed he would work a miracle on her. As the week went on, she began opening her eyes, and squeezing our hands. Every movement felt like a mountain, so encouraging. One day she played with a little cup my husband put by her hand, she kept trying to grab it with her fingers. We thought that told us she knew what was going on. It wasn't just reflexes. After about a week though, she quit responding. Something changed. My granfather was now paralyzed, waist down at this point. His legs wouldn't work at all. I was spending the days trying to help take care of him.

One week after the stroke, we brought my grandfather to the hospital, he said his chest and his head hurt. My mom called and said he had a mass on his left lung and a brain tumor. Later that day, they did a scan and discovered there was also spots all over his right lung, his colon, his liver, and his tail bone and hip bones had totally detoriated-gone, mush. That explains why he couldn't walk. I guess it took over the arthiritis!

By Wednesday, he couldn't eat anymore, he couldn't swallow. We were begging for pain medicine, not wanting him to hurt at all. He went to sleep and for the next week, every now and then he would wake up. Sometimes he would try and talk to us, sometimes he would just make funny faces, letting us know he knew who we were. On Saturday, they took my mother-in-law off of the machines and put her in her own room. We went to see her that night. I only stayed a minute. It was harder than I had thought it would be. I was still waiting for her to wake up and talk to me. She passed away about 2:30 that morning. We buried her on Wednesday. Some days I still think she is there, at the trailer, and I miss her so much. Just to hear her talk. Anything.

I can't imagine life without her, even now. It has been one month.

On Thursday morning, the day after burying my mother-in-law, my grandfather passed. I told him that evening before that she had gone to heaven, it was okay now. I loved him. For him to get some rest. The next morning, about 5:30am, he left too. I knew he had been sick and I had prayed for God to take him. I knew he was not living, and was in such pain. But now-there is this unbelievable void, an emptiness that can not be filled. A lost feeling. How do you function when you lose two people that was so significant in your life.

My grandfather, my hero, my world. He knew everything, could do anything, and loved me and my children so much. He never hurt us, not once. Not with words, or actions. Undying love. I keep trying to figure how to live my life without that.

My mother-in-law. I spent endless hours listening to her tell me stories. About Vietnam, my husband, his father, everything. How muched she loved the children. Unconditional love. Just to hear her talk, call my name-like she did, no one else could say it like her. How lost.
Two rocks, one summer, unconditional love.

It's Been Awhile

I can't remember the last time I journaled, or really even thought about something worthy enough to put on the world wide web. Life has been horribly hectic as always, and that makes enjoying life even more difficult. We are moved. There are only a few boxes left, mostly things that we don't need to live. Hannah has made friends, so far her life is nothing short of perfect. Khai rides his bike and makes his own make believe games. I think he enjoys it. I go home to see Maw and Paw everyday. I still miss them so much. When I talk to my grandmaw, she really listens, she always has. I love her and my grandfather so much. We are finished with state testing. The students seemed quiet confident, so I am eager to see the results.
My dear husband definitely enjoys living in the "city", his trips home are evidence of his enjoyment.
I did celebrate another birthday-thirty something. I passed on the whole opportunity to reflect and make sure I am where I want to be and all of that stuff. I figured it would probably send me into a mid-life crisis, so I just didn't do it. I thought it would be better if I was just thankful to be alive, and pretty healthy, with a healthy family, and to feel loved. As the day ended, I felt so loved, from family, friends, coworkers. Then I decided, life is good.
As I look back on all of the posts I have written, I realized that I hadn't mentioned much about my mom or posted her pic too many times. I think she is beautiful. I love her. We have finally reached a place in our life where we can talk calmly and connect. It is the most wonderful experience. My children adore her. She adores them. That is a wondrous blessing. We talk now. She asks me for honesty. I give it. She doesn't get offended. I say things that disagree with her thoughts but she doesn't get angry with me. I try really hard to respect her choices, even if I disagree with them, and try to be encouraging. She gives me support, and correction with direction when appropriate, but she never stops loving me. I guess it is the unconditional love thing, something I have looked for my whole life-I imagine most people do. She really is amazing. I just hope she understands what she means to me. She is MY mom, and that is the best feeling in the world.

My Grandparents

My Grandparents
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

My grandparents, where to start. Nursing my insomnia, I am drawn back to this day. My grandparents, my grandmother more light hearted, less responsibility, free-er (if there is such a word). My grandfather, seldom unusual, almost always himself, few hints of what is to come, still able to hold a conversation, tell a story, know family and relationships. Today, he is not the same man. He has been diagnosed with in stage dimensia, another word for the dreaded Alzheimer's. In all my logic, I can not think of a pleasant way to view the situation. After going to the funeral of a friend's aunt, she was only 68, and had only known 6 weeks ago that she had cancer, she passed away. So fast, gone, taken away from her family. I sit and look at her family wondering how are they going to survive without her. I can't imagine being so young and living without your mother. Feeling like a lost soul. And then I see my grandfather. And I ask myself, what is more important-the quantity of life or the quality of life? He used to make jokes about fishing. When you would ask him what would he do if he won the lottery, he would say, "Take a fishing pole and go down to Carencro (Bayou)." That was his happiness, down the bayou, fishing. Now he is the man who knows he may not be able to find his way home, so he doesn't go. No fishing, no boat, no bayous. Even though I have said it before, I feel as if I have lost a best friend without ever realizing it. And now that we have moved, I don't wake up and see their home anymore. We have only gone across the river but it feels as if we live in another state. He sits everyday and waits for us to come home. I don't know how people live away from family, I find it gut-wrenching. It makes life so much more empty. Their is no price for the interaction of children (and adults) with other family (especially grandparents). I miss them.

Aliens

Aliens
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

As I write I realize that I kind of became stuck on my trip. Living a dream, sometimes a person can talk too much. Life in the real world (today) is very hectic. We have finished painting and have started moving, at least half of our belongings. As we move a little more each day, I realize how big the walls are in my house and the rooms. My grandfather hasn't been to visit, I don't know if it is because it makes him so sad or it is his health. He is really having trouble breathing. A smoker his whole life, I am assuming he has emphysema. I know where this is heading but I rather my method of denial. I am tired of boxing, coming to the realization that I have entirely too much "don't use, don't need" stuff. I am determined to cleanse myself of my belongings.
Work is interesting as ever. We are two weeks away from state testing. As it gets closer, I am reminded of the pressure. Do you people feel this type of pressure in other jobs? The students are some of the strongest students I have ever taught. Realistically I am confident that they are going to do great. However, there is always that self question of what if I forgot to teach them something?
Back to the trip.
I have to regress a bit. In the mist of my lifelong dream, an unusual creature emerged. I have to describe my mother-in-law. Ever since the day I met her, she has been the most wonderful person. I have always been amazed by how blessed I am. I have heard horror stories from friends, colleques, etc. about mothers-in-law. But not mine, she was simply an angel. Kind hearted, sweet, loving, compassionate, wonderful. Welllllll, after arriving in Vietnam, getting in the van, with the family. Oh big note here-the van. This was a van, a four row seat van. Probably, normal capacity of 13 (and I think that is stretching it). When we all began to get into the van (after loading 6 pieces of luggage-the big ones), there were 21 PEOPLE!!!!!! It seemed to defy everything possible. And never a word of complaint.
Back to mother-in-law. After being in the van, maybe 10 minutes, she began to fuss, attack, belittle, my oldest sister-in-law. She had told me on the way to Vietnam that she was not happy because the sil had not made her children write letters to their grandmother. I guess that was a sign of disrespect. So, as we have just arrived in the van, the first time she has seen her family in 30 years, she is FUSSING. I could not understand what she was saying but I was able to pick out words here and there enough to gather she was gripping about the letter writing. My sister-in-law just sat there. Never said a word. She actually smiled at me. I looked at her with astonishment. Still, no response. As if I was getting denied a piece of the let me show everyone how much of a queen I am, she then took a couple of yelling spurts at me. In the 16 years I have known this woman, she has never said a cross word to me, raised her voice, nothing that could be construed as hostile, aggravated, nothing. I remember asking her something, she yelled. Began to fuss. I wanted to die, shrink into the floor or blow up. I have never felt such humiliation.
I believed an alien hade overtaken this precious, sweet, kind, angel of a lady that I had always known. And it was just the beginning.
Now, let's skip ahead to some interesting things.
After being in country for a week, I wanted to visit my friend, my coworker. She was definitely a lifeline. The only person besides my alien mother-in-law who could speak english. And I was hoping she could enlighten me on what had overtaken my mother-in-law. My nephew took me to visit her. Her family lived in Vung Tau, right on the coast. Beautiful homes, I then really realized how poor my family was. There is a huge gap in living standards. While at her family's home, they came in with these creatures. A shrimp like, sort of creature. I call them aliens. I have never seen anything that they look even slightly similar to. They boiled them. My friend had brought crab boil and seasoning from the states and I ATE THEM! Yes, I ate the aliens. And they were good, very good. At home, I am a bit on the very, very, very conservative side when it comes to food. But, when I touched down in Southeast Asia, I think I was overtaken by something else. I tried everything. And I walked away with some new food discoveries. What I would give right now for mang cut (mangosteen), this wonderfully sweet fruit. They can not be shipped to the US. Can go to Canada but not old US of A. A pity I tell you.

My

My
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

My Trip Journal continues.
My nephew My (pronounced me), the biggest surprise. Before going to Vietnam, I never thought very much about the family there. We would occassionaly receive pictures, and a phone call to my mother-in-law a couple of times a year but I didn't know any names, just the oldest brother. And I did not even begin to think about the extended family. Was I in for a surprise!
After we arrived, we immediately went to my oldest brother's youngest son's house to get him. He wasn't ready, so we just continued on to Ba Ria. After a few minutes, an older nephew, with another young man, arrived on a motor scooter next to us. In 1994, a niece and a nephew had both gotten married in Vietnam, they had sent pictures to us. I had looked through the pictures a hundred times trying to figure out who was Anh Hue's children (he has six).
There was one young man in the pictures who I could not figure out who he was. He was always smiling, seeming to have the most fun, looked very young, and different.
So, back to the scooter. There on the scooter was the mystery man/boy. I immediately recognized him. I couldn't believe he was Anh Hue's youngest son. His name is My, it means American in Vietnamese. The funniest thing is that he looks American (whatever that means). I guess a better way of saying it is, he doesn't look Vietnamese. He smiled alot.

We continue on to Anh Hue's house in Ba Ria. I can definitely say that first trip was one of astonishment. The traffic, nothing short of pandomonium. Everyone driving, no lanes, no redlights, just a continuous blowing horn to warn people to get out of the way. It was wild!

And the further away from Saigon we got, the more beautiful the countryside. Green, a green like I have never seen in the states. Mountains, beautiful mountains.

After arriving in Ba Ria, we went to find food. Rice and pork chops, the most delicious dish. While Ms. Thi was eating, my nephew took me to an internet cafe, and I had the opportunity to email my family. At this point, I could not fathom that I was actually there.

We went home to Anh Hue's house. And then we all sat around and visited. I just sat and tried to learn everyone's name. There is nothing funnier than an American trying to pronounce Vietnamese names, an American who deosn't speak the language anyway. A family reunion. I sat ther looking at the walls of Anh Hue's house thinking I can't believe I am here.