I am still awake.

Finally

 

Ducks. In a row. Sort of.

I'm not sure what finally got me to log in and start a post. It may have been the constant comments left by my good friends "Cheap viagra" and "Semenex."

Cough, cough. It's dusty in here.

The truth is that I haven't been posting here because I'm evolving, as one does. I no longer desire to write about every mother-related thing. I guess this means I'm no longer a "new mom." While I'm still in awe of everything my children do, I don't have the urge to run to report about it, except, on Facebook, where's it's easy to post something quickly. 

I'm still alarmed by how frustrated I can get when Shnook (now 4.75 yrs old) decides to deliberately piss me off by doing exactly the opposite of my requests, or when Fuzz (now 2.75 yrs old) puts me into an emotional tailspin with his lightening speed mind-changing:

My End of Year Post for 2012

Mo Cat, who left us too soon.

Oh, hai.

What say you? It's January 15th? Last year is so two weeks ago, right? Everyone else has shed their 2012 skins and already broken their resolutions.

This is how I've been rolling lately. Better late than never, I say. Hey, I could be writing my end of year post for 2012 in 2014, so I'm ahead of that curve, right?

2012 was a year of triumph, but much loss.  My uncle Geoff and our long distance family cat, Mo, among the personal losses, as well as our country's loss of 26 innocent lives at Sandy Hook Elementary in CT. 

While we ended the year with such tragedy, it wasn't all bad. 

Physics and The Forces of Nature and (Self)-Nurture

I was never particularly good at science. My one recurring nightmare is that classic:

“Today's the day I take the college exam for the class I didn't even know I was taking!”

It's always a science class. Always.

It might have something to do with the C- I got in Plant Biology my senior year, and all the classes I skipped, causing me to get that C-. I was rebelling, I guess. We had to take TWO four credit lab sciences to graduate- a stupid STUPID rule that I hope they've eradicated now that it's resulted in endless years of therapy.

Oh right, I still don't have a therapist. But when I get one...the amount I give to my alma mater's annual fund may be substantially lower. . .

Meanwhile,

I Rocked It Like A Mama

Today was one of those days where I felt that all was possible. I don't usually like to pat myself on the back. In fact, I usually find ways to unpat myself when others compliment me but that's a sob story for my therapist.

I should get myself one of those.

Normally, I'm cursing both the laws of Murphy and toddlers. I think those two have a pact or something.

It's a one-step-forward-two-steps-back-uphill-battle-barefoot-in-the-dog-shit-infested-snow kind of feeling, almost every single day. 

But today...oh today...I kind of feel like I kicked ass.  Check out this list of accomplishments.

The Last Moments

 

My sister and I playing my Uncle's banjos at the Shiva.

At this moment, Hurricane Sandy is pummeling the East Coast. I can't stand watching the bad news pour in on my Facebook feed anymore. So I'm back here for a long overdue post. It's already been almost 3 weeks since Geoff died. It seems like yesterday and at the same time, it feels like it never happened. 

 

I still diligently turn on his music when Shnook and Fuzz ask for it (uh...every time we get in the car).  I still sing his songs, and hear his voice clearly in my head:

"Big or little, short or shaggy, all dogs suffer with fleas."

"Quarter to 7. Breakfast will be served in the Marvel Arts Room." (said in his warped version of an English accent)

If I think too hard, I start to sob while I'm belting out The Ruler of the Queen's Navee.

I never did get around to posting about his death, that occurred only an hour or so after my last post. There was much about it that was surreal, and yet so real. 

My mom and I were sitting at the kitchen table. She was listening to some of her old favorites on her iTunes. We rocked out to the Time Warp a little, then she played some Jacques Brel, and then some Elvis, which was when I noticed that Uncle G was moaning slightly.

Dying. The Old Way.

 

Uncle G, about 3 weeks ago with his friends Neckmore (left) and Squasho

I remember when both my babies were born how miraculous it was that their bodies instinctively knew what to do. They knew how find their food source, and latch on. They knew how to grip their fingers around ours and to sleep when they needed to, even if only for ten minutes. I also recall all their other idiosyncrasies which would cause us to panic and wonder if they were normal:

 

-those internal smiles that everyone says are gas

-the constant hiccups

-the moro reflex that made them look like they were cheering, but were actually causing them to feel like they were falling

and a whole host of others.

As it turns out, when people die, there are similar physical traits.