this is the hard part.

Posted on August 12, 2012 by mommyinthemidwest

Since I’ve got two weeks off between jobs + a house that needs LOTS of work and updates, I’ve been spending as much time as possible at the house doing whatever I can to get it (more) ready for us to move in to. That means getting up in the morning and getting the boys ready for the day, whether that means going to the babysitter’s house or staying home with Nana, and then only seeing them for another hour or so each day. This is the hard part.

I keep thinking it will all be worth it. I have only been going at these long days for a week or so but I feel like it’s been 10 years since I’ve spent any time with my kids and I really miss them. I wonder if they think about me when I’m not around because they cross my mind 10 times a minute. I know they’re fine without me around. But what do they think? Do they miss me? I’m looking forward to moving into our house and living there as a family. Dinners there, baths there, bedtime there. Living with my husband there. Seeing the improvements we make over time. This is the hard part.

My mom is in town. She has been hard at work painting for me the last 4 days. I can’t wait to show you what she’s done! I’d be lost without her, my father-in-law, and my mother-in-law. I asked my mom what she thought dad would be working on if he was still here with us. She laughed and said, “probably whatever you told him to.” I sure miss him at times like this. I know he would love our house, flaws and all, and would do anything he could to help us make it better. This is the hard part.

The house looks worse than it did when we bought it because it truly is a construction zone right now. We keep asking ourselves how we ended up in a total fixer upper when we have no time and very little money to make it the way we want it. We can’t keep beating ourselves up for our questionable decision making skills. We have to look to the future and realize how great this house WILL be one day. This is the hard part.

I really do believe one day we will look back at these days fondly and admire the work that we did. The love that our family shared with us throughout this process.. Their talent, their generosity, their time, their aching backs and knees, and the list goes on and on. I just have to keep telling myself that it will be worth it. It won’t always be like this. This right here, this is the hard part.

xo,
~C~

comfort food: this ain’t your granny’s shepherd’s pie.

Posted on February 2, 2012 by mommyinthemidwest

It’s my dad‘s. It is nothing fancy, but it’s warm and the flavors and textures are just right on a winter day. It’s one of the few things I remember my dad cooking and I always loved it. I didn’t have much in the cupboards or fridge last night, but I had what I needed to throw this together. It was just as yummy as I remembered, so I thought I would share.

There are no veggies in this shepherd’s pie. No gravy. And that’s how we like it. Three layers: cheese. mashed potatoes. sloppy joe meat (or something like it).

~Jack’s Shepherd’s Pie~

Preheat the oven to 350ish. Make some instant mashed potatoes (or real ones, if you’re crafty like that. But the point here is quick and easy on a weeknight, so whatevs…).

Start by browning a pound of ground beef or ground turkey in a large skillet.

How do you make sloppy joes? I just squirted some ketchup and barbeque sauce in the skillet.

And voila!

Spread the meat in a square baking dish. Preferably a cute blue one like mine.

Spread the mashed potatoes over the meat mixture.

Dump a bunch (or about a cup) of shredded cheese on top and spread it to the edges of the dish. I prefer sharp cheddar but I had colby & monterey jack on hand so that’s what we used.

Put it in the oven and start the timer for 15 minutes.

Hint: It improves efficiency in the kitchen if you can find a couple of helpers to get things out of drawers for you and hold on to your legs while you walk back and forth.

When that timer goes off, I like to leave the oven door cracked and turn up the heat to broil until the cheese starts turning brown and getting a little crunchy.

Not as brown as I’d like it, but when you have hungry mouths to feed, you have to make sacrifices!

The verdict?

It’s in his mouth (this equals success) AND he {almost} cleaned his plate. Yummy.

If you try it, let me know what you think. Jack would be proud.

~C~

Jack, part 2

Posted on December 15, 2011 by mommyinthemidwest

When I wrote about my dad back in January, I had so many more thoughts than what I could put into words at the time. After the post was published, I immediately started this one that I hadn’t been able to finish. Until now.

****

I was on Spring Break from school in March of 2007, a week or two before he got his diagnosis. He was on disability leave from work indefinitely so I went down to visit and spend some extra time with him. We spent most of that week together. He was feeling pretty good, or at least acted like it. We went to a nature center and explored it. We went to a scenic overlook across the river and saw the city from a new perspective. We took my niece to the park and played with her. We went to lunch. We went downtown and pretended we were tourists. It was the most one on one time I spent with my dad as an adult – I loved it. At the end of the week, I had packed up to go home and we went to a little Mexican restaurant for lunch before I hit the interstate. In the parking lot, next to my car, he gave me as big of a hug as a sick, skinny man can give and told me “I’ve really enjoyed our time together this week.” And he hugged me a little longer than usual.

I said before that my dad wasn’t a touchy feely guy. He said things like “come back and see us,” rather than “I’ve really enjoyed our time together.” If not before then, I knew at that moment that he knew he was dying. I didn’t know that he was dying, but I at least knew that he thought he was. It was just the little things he did and said all week. I’m so grateful for that week with him. If he had gotten his diagnosis before Spring Break, I don’t think we would have had as much fun.

After he died, I felt lost. Literally. I had a recurring dream that I was a child standing in a crowded mall, spinning around and around in one spot. The crowd was a rotating blur and there were loud echoes of people talking and laughing. I was too scared to move out of that spot, feeling totally helpless and alone while the world just kept moving in circles at an accelerated pace.

I ~~cried~~ sobbed myself to sleep over and over. It was a gut-wrenching sadness. I wondered if I was normal and if I should be having this hard of a time adjusting to life after my dad. No one that had lost a parent ever explained the weight of this grief to me. Maybe because there is no way to explain it. I don’t think my husband knew what to do with me, but he did the right thing. He held me tight and let me cry.

About a week after I returned to “normal” life, I decided to seek help through a grief support group. I found one that was offered at a church not too far from my home on Friday nights. We went and were the youngest people there. One lady was about 10 years older than me and had lost her fiance, but everyone else was elderly. Like senior citizens. And they had lost a spouse. We shared our stories of loss. One of the older ladies told me that she was really broken-hearted when she lost her father, but I wouldn’t know what grief was unless I lost a spouse, like she had. Umm. What?

I don’t doubt that the pain you feel when your husband of a gobzillion years passes away is intense, but I’m not there. I’m here. My dad died two weeks ago and I’m still reeling. The support group was not helpful. I think I went back once after that out of guilt for starting something and not finishing it, but I couldn’t bring myself to keep sitting around with these sad old ladies. I guess I wanted to sit around with sad 27 year olds.

I experienced a lot of jealousy. I was so envious of anyone and everyone who still had both of their parents. And you know who was included in that list? My mom…whose parents are now in their late 70s. MY MOM, of all people. She just lost her husband of 35+ years and the love of her life. My mom, who was 53 at the time and still had both of her parents. I was jealous of my mom. I felt guilty about that, but I guess I somehow separated the loss of her husband from the fact that she still had both parents. I thought I’d have my parents until I was in my 50s too. When my dad was dying, I told my mom that she better plan on living to be about 150 to make up for my dad dying so young. He was only 55.

At times, I was suprised at what friends were there for me. Some friends that I hadn’t even heard from for months or years came out of the woodwork while many whom I expected to be there unconditionally were the ones that let me down. I get it. No one wants to reopen the wound. No one wants to bring it up if you seem happy because they don’t want to make you sad. People don’t know what to say. It made me feel like people forgot about my dad. Or forgot that I was in pain. Or didn’t care? Looking back, I don’t think that people didn’t care, I just think that they were scared I would cry. What’s so scary about crying, anyway?

Right after my dad died, I had a lot of anxiety about what would happen to him. Not him, physically, but the things that made him him. His thoughts. Fears. Talents. His personality and character. The sound of his voice. The sound of his laughter. The memory of his face and his smile. The sparkle in his eye. I was afraid I would forget everything. I was afraid people would never think about him. Downright anxious that everything would disappear. I can look at pictures of him, but they are flat…physical and spiritually flat. It’s not like being with him or feeling his presence. I usually drive by his grave when I go home. It’s the only place I can go where I feel just a little bit closer to him. I know that none of those things are there, but at least what’s left of his body is there. I know that he doesn’t know that I’m there, but it makes me feel better, knowing that I at least tried to visit the place he is.

I wonder what he would think and say about the way his girls are turning out. I’d like to think that he’d be so proud of us both, for different reasons. I’d like to think he would have a great relationship with my boys. That he’d take them fishing or toss a football with them. That he’d play HORSE in the driveway with them and sneak them candy and dollar bills when I wasn’t looking.

****

This will be the 5th Christmas without my dad. It’s hard to believe almost 4 1/2 years have passed since he died. Being in the midst of that grief and watching the rest of the world carry on as usual was hard. I felt like because my world stopped, the rest of the world should too. Now I know that the world doesn’t stop for one woman’s heartache, and I can say that I’m happy. I think about him and miss him every single day, but I’m happy. I try to focus on the wonderful things he brought to my life and not the emptiness his absence has created. I continue doing the things that I hope would make him proud. I’m going to raise my boys to know their Gramps, even though they will never meet him.

getting it all off my chest,
~C~