Blog was created 7/20/2012.
I used to post my drawings here (please credit accordingly if you use them) but now I pretty much only post about my 4 year old (7/2013) every so often.
Description updated 10/16/2017.
“My parents split up when I was seven, so my grandmother was the one stable thing in my life. She’d cook me dinner, tuck me in bed, then put on her nurse’s uniform and go to work. She was already 65 by then, but somehow she’d still find the energy to cook me breakfast when she came home. She understood me. We shared secrets. Both of us tended toward melancholy, and she made me feel OK about that. We also had similar weaknesses. Oma put everyone else before herself. My grandfather was abusive and abandoned her. But when he got cancer in his old age, she told him: ‘Come back home Joe, I’ll take care of you.’ She nursed him until he died. That’s the kind of person she was. Christmas was always a huge deal for her. It was the main reason she kept working. She’d save up all year for it. Each of her grandkids would get twenty presents, and they’d be stacked to the ceiling. Unfortunately her health was never great because she smoked her entire life. And when I visited her in December of 2017, she was in horrible shape. She couldn’t walk more than a few steps without gasping for air. I remember carrying her up the stairs and putting her to bed. I read her books from my childhood. And she hated every minute of it, I’m sure. Because she hated being cared for. When our time was finished, and I was walking out the door, she told me: ‘Nick, I love you so much. And please don’t tell anyone, but this is the last time you’re going to see me.’ I cried the entire way to the airport. And three days later she died. It was the week before Christmas. My entire family flew to her house for the funeral, and there were tons of presents, for every child and grandchild, perfectly wrapped and placed under the tree. But I was too heartbroken to go. And I think she anticipated that. Because on December 23rd I received a package. It was postmarked the day that she died. Inside was a bottle of holy water, a rosary, and a card that said: ‘Right now you probably feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, and it’s going to come crashing down. But keep going. We all have a purpose in life. And one of the reasons you are here was to bring some happiness into mine.’”
A Non-Comprehensive List of Birds That Piss Me Off
1. Dracula Parrot. This thing pisses me off like, a bunch
2.
King Vulture. the felted craft project equivalent of a haunted ventriloquist dummy
i will never not resent this bird
3. Jacana Bird. This is the most unnecessary cursed nonsense. i deserve an apology for having to look at this. I can feel its fingers stroking my ears
No it does not have SIX FREAKING LIMBS. it’s carrying its stupid creepy spawn under its wings. A+ parents but still, piss off. even the normal 2 legged version isn’t much better
put those AWAY.
4. The Shoebill, which i’m sure we’re all sick of hearing about. this thing is the epitome of a crappy photorealistic cgi disney villainy. i despise this bird.
also this is what they look like standing up. i just feel like i shouldn’t have to deal with that, i really do.
5. Inca Tern. truly, hipsters ruin everything
6. Tragopan. it looks like a star wars species, which i dislike on principle
7. The Secretary Bird. it wears yoga pants.
also i’m uncomfortable with the length of its eyelashes
8. finally, i really dislike this one specific parakeet
in conclusion, these birds exist to haunt me and this knowledge is a burden. birds exist to observe our sin; always watching, they are filled with malice. flee from them
This post speaks to me in a way very few Tumblr posts do.
While the macro is frightening, the micro has been good. Everything slowed down and it’s been nice. We’ve been having lots of family time and I’ve been reminded of what’s really important in life. I’m re-making connections with my husband, and taking the time to really see my child. We have sword fights everyday, and in between our super mega power ups, I stop and look my baby’s laughing face, and my life feels complete.
I’ve been cooking every meal, and we now actually have the time to eat together. I plan out the food a little more carefully, and we’ve become just a little less wasteful. We have more fun with/ appreciate the little things we took for granted just a little more. Instead of grabbing a muffin from the store and eat it on the go, I bake and get smiles and thanks while we eat them together over a chat or snuggled up over a movie.
We’ve put up bird feeders and we watch the bird and check for sprouts in the yard. Despite the forecasted snow, signs of Spring are everywhere. The streets are a little quieter and the air is a little cleaner. Mother Earth finally gets to take a deep breath. I now try to think more about whether I really need something before placing an order, and have a new found appreciation for not just the deliveryman but also the system in general. It’s not that I never realized we could do less with everything, it’s just that we never really had to. With a little creativity, so much can be repurposed and reused.
I’ve started to talk to my family more … texts and video chats and calls … and we feel closer than before. All the little spats we had … all the drama that come with mother daughter relationships and sibling rivalries… they all seem so small and pointless now. When you take away the noise, you just have love and care at the core. I’ve taken so much for granted from the people that are the closest to me, and now we are all a bit more appreciative of what we have.
I still get scared often, but per Mr. Rogers advice, I’ve been looking for the helpers, and they’re easy to find. And I’ve been trying to be the helper, however small.
Once I met a wonderful woman. We were chatting and she said she was originally from XXX. I’ve since forgotten what that country was, but at the time I said, “oh wasn’t there a really bad war there back in the early 90’s?” She confirmed, and being the insensitivity curious prick that I am, I asked what that was like. She said it was fine, that they just stayed in the basement for like 3 years. I was shocked. Seeing my reaction, she smiled and said that she was maybe about 8 and the kids (she and her siblings) just didn’t know any better, that it was just … their normal.
I’ve thought of that conversation often as of late. Sometimes it comforts me, sometimes it incites fear.
I’m lucky and grateful to be with my favorite people in the world, and our day to day is mostly wonderful. My husband is a saint and my child is an angel. Really. The daily life has mostly been easy. Everything has slowed down and that’s not a bad thing.
But I’m sad. Suddenly start crying in the middle of things sad. Not feeling all here sad. Had a nervous breakdown for no reason sad. Just sad. I’d been putting on a happy face for the past 2 weeks but this weekend I just … couldn’t… and my 6 year old put on his responsible adult hat and comforted me. My 6 year old. What a loser of a mother. And I’m worried. About our finances. About the economic fall out. About all the deaths to come. About planning what my family will do if one of us fall ill. About education. About a future that will look entirely different after this. About preparing my child for a future that I don’t even know. And I’m anxious. Just … constant anxiety at the back of my head. Anxiety with simple everyday interactions.
And I feel like I don’t have the right to be any of these things. Or at the very least they are highly unhelpful. What useless emotions.
I’m moody. Maybe I’ll feel better in 10 minutes and think I overreacted. Maybe I’ll be worse off in 20 minutes and think I underreacted.
