You Might Want to Skip to the Last Paragraph

As I've mentioned before this blog has become a bit like therapy for me. Like Gidgit and Doogie Howser, I feel better when I put it into words. Thus...

Wednesday was a really bad day. It started bad, perked up a bit in the middle, and ending in an astonishingly awful way. But it proved it's point: even at her worst, Bear has an amazingly big heart and I love her.

Andrew's Aunt Linda was given bad news in August. Suspicious spots on her liver, possibly a new cancer, possibly a metastasis from her breast cancer years ago. We'd have to wait for the biopsy. Two weeks later the bad news got worse. The spots on her liver were indeed metastasis, but not from her history of breast cancer. She was diagnosed with primary pancreatic cancer that had already spread to her liver and possibly her bones. With chemo she had a few months. Then came the strokes that left her unable to eat or speak but awake and alert enough to be afraid. She lost her battle Wednesday morning.

Linda and her husband Denny were amongst the first of Andrew's relatives that I met and easily two of my favorites. They were warm and inviting from the very beginning - letting us stay with them every time we made the trek to the northwest corner of Pennsylvania. The first time we spent the weekend Andrew looked at me and said, "Can't you just see this family room full of our kids on Christmas morning?" I could. Their front porch was the perfect size for the padded wicker furniture it held. Even in winter the porch called out to you first thing in the morning, "Come, sit and sip hot chocolate." Staying with Denny and Linda wasn't just a convenience, it was part of the vacation. I will miss her more than I can possibly express.

Bear noticed my tears and asked if I missed Daddy, who happened to be on a business trip in Albany when his mom called with the bad news. Not waiting for my answer, she wrapped her little arms around my legs and squeezed, telling me that it was OK, Daddy would be home soon.

I pulled myself together and packed our bag for the day. A fully stocked diaper bag for Tadpole, lunch for Bear and I, Bear's appointment "ticket" for the dentist, and her swim bag. After another amazing trip to the dentist (awarded with a Hello Kitty skirt and top this time) and a very productive swim class we were back at home.

Tadpole was running low on Orajel and Bear was running high on energy so I suggested we take a walk to the convenience store down the road. I put Tadpole in the Baby Bjorn and a leash on Samantha, Bear put her teddy bear in her pink Build-A-Bear Baby Bjorn and we were all on our way. We were almost there when I heard a high pitched bark. Without any warning at all, a little Boston Terrier darted across the street yapping at Samantha. The next few seconds passed in freeze frame slow motion. A blue green car, a yelp, the spinning of tires, a loud crunch and the little doggy lying in a heap, practically at our feet. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen and if I live to be 100 I will never forget it. Bear, barely four years old, witnessed the whole thing.

She was sobbing as we tried to find the dogs owner. A 12-year old boy with a leash in his hands appeared from behind the house. He crossed the street and scooped up the dog. Then he brought him to his front step and dropped him. It was gut wrenching. I don't know if he dropped him in anger, or disgust, or if he thought he might land on his feet and run inside but I get a pit in my stomach thinking about it. I decided to get the Orajel later and took Bear to sit on a friends porch. I knew she was still at work but we needed a second and she lived nearby. Bear asked a million questions I wish I had answers to... Why? Why did that doggie run into the road? Why didn't that car stop? Why is that boy sad? Are they going to take him to the animal hospital and fix him? Did the doggie die?

I decided to be honest with her. The doggie ran into the street because he was excited and he forgot to look both ways and wait for his owner. The car just couldn't stop fast enough. And the boy is sad because his doggie died. I told her that they couldn't take him to the animal hospital. That even the hospital can't fix it when someone gets squished by a car. She cried off and on the entire way home, telling me that she was very upset and sad.

When we got home, she immediately got out her art supplies and asked for a piece of plain white paper. Then she asked me how to spell sorry. She made that little boy a card. Drew him pictures to make him feel better. Then she spelled her name and the two other words she knows - mom and dad. She told me she wanted to bring the card to the little boy to make him smile but first she wanted to go to the store and get him some flowers. Today after work, that is exactly what we did. She picked a small violet plant and had the sales lady wrap light and dark pink ribbon around the pot. Then she helped me deliver it. She may be four and stubborn and overwhelming at times, but my daughter has a heart bigger than Texas and I love her.

Better than Prozac

Today has been a challenging day here in the Condon household. Andrew left Monday afternoon on a business trip - we're going to meet him in New Hampshire Friday night... if we all live that long.

I once read somewhere that the toddler/preschool years are referred to as the first "adolescence", well let me tell you something, Bear may not see the second. We had four major blow-outs today. And when I say major, I mean that I am surprised the neighbors don't call the police. Bear is all girl when it comes to her emotions. Hormonal, hysterical, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing, slamming fits are commonplace. Three of today's revolved around me requesting that she wear something other than silky pajama bottom shorts and an undershirt outdoors (for the record it was about 60 degrees and WINDY today). One of the times I asked her to get dressed it was because I wanted to take her to a new park/zoo that we haven't visited yet but one of my bff's raves about. Seriously? Show me one other kid who throws a fit because someone wants to take them to the zoo. The last melt down was over bedtime which finally ended when I called Andrew and had him chat and "snuggle" with her over the phone until she fell asleep.

I am exhausted by all of this. I am also desperately saddened by the screaming and yelling I end up doing. I am adamantly opposed to spanking - no matter the situation - there is a history of physical abuse in my past and I will absolutely not allow that in my home. Tonight, Andrew told me that I verbally hit Bear when I scream at her. I collapsed into sobs. I love my daughter, more than I could possibly ever express in words. But there comes a point when I have been yelled at, and hit, and bombarded with all sorts of flying toys that I forget to be the parent and instead resort to playing the role of sparring partner.

I worry about Bear. I don't know if Bear is a normal preschooler or if she has somehow inherited the dark cloud of depression that used to hover above me. It's no secret that Zoloft is my ticket to participating in life but the thought of medicating a three year old.. Andrew is going to call the pediatrician tomorrow to set up an appointment with the child psychologist, we'll start there.

You're wondering where the "better" part of the title comes in? No it's not in that last paragraph. As I sat on the couch tonight, my eyes raw from crying, my phoned dinged to tell me I had a new email message. Someone had just left a comment on my 100 things post. I didn't know what they were referring to, so I went back and read the post. Then I read all the comments. And laughed. Then I started linking to other peoples blogs. And reading. And the anger and stress of the day started to drip down towards my toes to be deposited on the carpet instead of in my heart.

Thank you.

P.S. Yes I do still actually knit. That will be, gasp, tomorrow's post.

Neglectful

That is what I have been. Between two kids, two dogs, one husband, one step-daughter, work, breastfeeding, one knitting blog, one knitting swap, knitting itself and various other hobbies something had to give. This month it was the knitting blog. Maybe next month it will be the kids. :-)

Eight Years, Eight Pictures for Peace

Hi Ho Hi Ho

I went back to work this week. Part time. LOVE IT! I'm sure I will love it a bit less when I get that first decreased paycheck but I really like the easier pace of working 24-hours a week instead of 40. I get to "sleep in" a few days a week and enjoy Bear and Tadpole while they are still little but I also get adult interaction and mental stimulation (beyond reviewing my shapes and colors). I am one happy and content clam.

I didn't meet my goal of finishing all WIP's over the summer but hey, they're my WIP's, I'll finish them when I am good and ready. For now I am happy to start a few more projects. I've started a simple baby pullover for Tadpole but he is growing like a weed (14.5# at 13 weeks!) so I'm not sure if it's even going to fit. I also started a red cabled sweater for Tadpole for Christmas pictures but I'm thinking it is more intricate and time-consuming than a baby sweater should be. I have also begun building an Etsy shop for myself. I have four custom orders right now and hope to post a few ready-to-sell sweaters within the next couple of weeks.

Fall is here in New England. The nights and early mornings are cool. I am sad to see the summer go but also happy that it's no longer a zillion degrees out.

My Brush with a Legend

In the eleventh grade I was fortunate enough to participate in Project Close-Up in Washington, D.C. It was my first time on an airplane (which I might have been more excited about than the actual trip itself).

On Capitol Hill day we had a scavenger hunt type list of things to find (a copy of a bill, etc.) and were to meet in our congressman's office at some certain time. While my friend Tim and I were walking down the street we saw our congressman, Patrick Kennedy. And like the two starstruck teenagers we were, we pointed and gaped and made a complete spectacle of ourselves to the point that Patrick Kennedy crossed the street and introduced himself (probably to minimize the scene we were causing). When he found out that we were from Rhode Island and actually scheduled to meet him later that day he took us with him to see a vote. And while Patrick Kennedy was voting, his father, Ted Kennedy appeared. Patrick spoke a few words, pointed up to the balcony, and then Ted Kennedy waved to us. To me.

My Little Girl Is Getting So Big

Last week, Andrew took Bear, K (my step-daughter), and his mom to the far reaches of Pennsylvania for the third bi-annual family reunion. Tadpole and I stayed home since no one wanted to be in a car for twelve hours with a baby that hates his car seat. While they were gone I spent five days clearing out clutter and rearranging furniture, turning K's weekend bedroom into Tadpole's nursery and turning Bear's nursery into her new "big girl room". When all was said and done, I cried. She's getting big so quickly. Here are some pictures of her new room.