Miz S

Home.

So. Here we are. We moved home.

You know what? Let's do this in the contrived form of an imaginary interviewer asking me questions, because it's all so hard to explain, and, God, I'm exhausted at the very thought of writing a blog post.

 

Q. You moved home? Where have you been living if you weren't at home?

A. We moved to my father-in-law's house in Washington DC  in October of 2011, shortly after my mother-in-law passed away from lung cancer.  (Which sucked, fyi.)  My father-in-law is in his nineties and needs a little help.

 

Q. Did you like living in DC?

A. Meh. It was okay. It was only 15 minutes from our house in Maryland, so it's not like it was culture shock or anything.  It was inconvenient that we had to hide our cars all the time because the police gave us tickets for not getting DC plates. It's hard to find a good hiding place for three tons of metal.  On the flip side, we liked being right across from Rock Creek Park.

 

Q. What was it like living with a 90-something-year-old Jewish man?

A. Equal parts hilarious, depressing, and really fucking annoying. We missed our own house so much. And we missed our life. You feel me?

 

Q. So why did you move there in the first place? You must have known it would be hard. Are you and Josh the kind of people who don't think things through?

A. Possibly. And we were reeling from the death of Josh's mother, who was the heart of the family.  My father-in-law's doctor spoke to us and said, "He can't be alone. He'll die. He won't eat. He can't be alone." So we were all, "WAAAAAH! WE'LL MOVE IN! WAAAAH!" 

Is that what you meant by not thinking things through? 

 

Q. Yes, that's what I meant. Hang on a sec. I am perusing your archives.  I just read this entry.

And in that entry, you said, "We are here for the duration. A year? 6 months? 5 years? It doesn't matter."   

But here you are moving out after a measly 20 months! ARE YOU QUITTERS?

A.  Evidently.  Here's the thing: We had no idea it would be so hard. We underestimated the toll it would take on us. We fought a lot. I cried a lot. We both gained weight. I went to work early and stayed late. (Which is nothing new but I think I took it to the next level.)  In short, we were miserable about 50% of the time.

 

Q. Yeah, but don't you feel kind of like an asshole, anyway? 

A. Definitely. Because we thought we could do it.  We wanted to do it. We wanted to be unselfish, good people who take care of their elders.  As it turns out, we are very ordinary people and slightly self-centered. Just like everyone else. It was HAAAAARD. Oh, and did I mention that during this same time period my father died and one of my kids got married? And I changed schools? Hmmm?

 

Q. Oh, I see. You're a big whiner, too.

A.  Shut it.

 

Q. What will your father-in-law do now? 

A. Continue being a stubborn old man. He has known for 3 months that we were moving out on July 1st. Josh and his sister have taken him to visit assisted living communities and had many conversations (high-decibel) about what should happen next. He won't (or can't) make a decision and rejects all sensible alternatives. It's frustrating, as many of you know. We (Josh, his sister, me) will continue to make sure that he eats by having him over for dinner. Josh's sister takes him to doctor appointments. We'll help him as much as we can. But at the end of the day we will be able to go home to our own house.  

This elder care business is hard, y'all.

Okay. That's all I have for right now. But if you need me, I'll be here in my little yellow house, artfully arranging my coffee cups in any damn cabinet I want.   

Last Saturday.

I had fun with Josh last Saturday.

Side note: We don't get nearly enough time together these days. We just don't.  Basically, on most days we communicate with grunts and text messages. Or we like each other's status on Facebook.

Kidding. We're not Facebook friends.

Wait, maybe we are.

Last Saturday I made a date to go visit the Holly Bible Boy, the small brother of one of my all-time favorite kids.  His family has moved twice in the last couple of years and I lost track of them after the 2nd move, which happened to coincide with the period of time when my father was in and out of the hospital. I just didn't have any energy left over to be looking out for my little buddy, much as I love him and his many siblings. I let it all slide.

A few weeks ago a former co-worker of mine ran into the mom and a couple of the siblings at a school way far away in a different part of my school district. She recognized them, got the mom's cell number, and emailed me with the information.

So, last Saturday Josh and I went out to visit them. Josh didn't really want to go with me--he's scared of little kids, maybe because I have told him too many war stories from work. I don't know. In the end he did come though. We hung out in a park with 3 of the 6 kids. My Holly Bible Boy is 12 now, wears his hair long, and tried very hard to convince us to let him drive our minivan. His older brother is 14 and didn't come because on Saturdays he works as a helper with his uncle in a automotive repair shop. The little sister and one of the little brothers came, though.

The three of them walked a mile or more on a warm, humid morning to meet us at the park.

Christ, I would have picked them up if they had told me.

We sat in the grass and talked and then watched them play for awhile. The little one mentioned a couple of times that he was thirsty and maybe we should drive to the Safeway, casting significant looks at Josh and me and was firmly shushed by his older brother and sister.

These kids kill me.

We took them up to the store to get drinks and then drove them to their home. They are living with their mom in the basement of their grandparents' house. They have bikes, and a safe place to ride them. There are kids to play with up and down the street.

You guys, it's out in the country. Or at least, in a semi-rural-ish part of suburban Montgomery County. There is a tiny farm at the end of the street they live in, and the owner lets them pat the horses. It smells good outside.

It is such a huge improvement in their living situation. From nasty, gang-ridden Langley Park, which eats kids like them up and spits them out, to a modest rambler on a quiet street in Cloverly, Maryland.

I went inside to say hello to the mom who asked me if I could help her find a job. Pretty sure I can't, but I said I would keep my eyes open. Then we watched the kids ride their bikes up and down the street for a few minutes.

When we drove away Josh said, "You know, those kids aren't too bad."

I hope this is the beginning of easier times for my little friends, but we all know that a family living on the edge like that can go under in a heartbeat.

Josh and I spent the rest of the day together. We drove up to Sugarloaf Mountain, ate lunch at a restaurant, hiked half-heartedly (maybe shouldn't have had that wine with lunch), and then went to see The Avengers.

It was a good day.

I Went To Portugal.

So much has happened in the 6 weeks since I last updated.

I went to Portugal on my spring break, for one thing. I feel all apologetic about it for some reason, like I have to explain how it all came about or how it didn't cost that much money (which would be an outright fabrication) or how I'm not one of these people who jets off to Europe all the time.

I AM A COMMONER, LIKE YOU.

A commoner who just happened to spend 8 days in Portugal recently.

Portugal rocks, y'all. Cancel that trip to Disneyland. Go to Portugal. I got a bed and breakfast for you in Lisbon that you will never want to leave. You will fall a little bit in love with tall, beautiful Pilar, the young receptionista. Her boss, Francisco, will sit with you in the morning for coffee and ask you about your family and tell you about his, and how he grew up in an apartment building that contained all his aunts, uncles, and cousins along with his own parents and siblings. And you will want to talk to him all day.

My sister Sarah and I thought we would die from the cuteness of laundry hanging from every window in Portugal. NO ONE in Portugal has their own washer and dryer, y'all.

(Please pause and feel spoiled. I did.)

We saw a lot of...stuff. True confession: I don't give a shit about castles, museums, or statues.

Here is what I liked:

The old men at the cafe tables, each one leaning in to hear the other, nodding and laughing. 

The young waiters and waitresses, fluent in 2 or 3 languages.

The huge and immaculately tended community gardens on the outskirts of Lisbon and in all the small towns.

The couple on the subway with the toddler, cooing and singing songs to her in Portugese.

The tiny little grocery stores tucked into every block, where you could buy absolutely anything you needed.

Sitting at a table on a narrow winding street, drinking sangria.

Good Friday in Évora, where the entire town gathered at the church at around 10pm and lit candles for a somber parade. 

And so much more. I would go back there in a heartbeat.

My sister and her husband. You guys wouldn't even believe how much we walked in Lisbon. The proportion of walking time to sitting around at a cafe table drinking sangria time was totally skewed in the wrong direction. My brother-in-law is a stern taskmaster when it comes to exploring a city.

In the small town of Comporta I was overcome with delight by the storks that were nesting everywhere.

Storks! STORKS!

Josh at the Moorish castle ruins in Sintra. He's the assistant manager of the worrrrrld!

A rather glum-looking lad, playing his accordion. Awfully young to be doing this, in my opinion. His father or grandfather was doing the same thing just down the street so I guess it's a family business?  I gave him some euros and asked politely if I could take his picture, but he just didn't seem too happy about the whole arrangement. There were many people like this in Lisbon, doing some kind of entertainment for tourists.

Ah. Disaffected youth. Gotta love 'em.

We arrived home on Easter Sunday and work started for me on Tuesday. Since then I have been up, down, sideways, and occasionally in a fetal position. But I can say, cautiously, that I think I am feeling a little better, a little less bruised by the events of the past 9 months. A little less fearful of what lies ahead.

Thanks, as always, for your kind comments, emails, and prayers. There are days where they have made all the difference to me.

Lazy Trumps Tipsy.

Sasha came home for Grandma's birthday. All the animals were ecstatic because Sasha is their girl, but I only caught this one picture of Rosie kissing her.

Thank you all for defending me so fiercely in my comments. You made me laugh a lot and feel like a princess. Hoo-boy! The reading specialist better watch herself. Apparently there's a big can of whup-ass with her name on it, and little blackbird (among others) is just itching to open it up. You guys are sweet.

So, I believe I mentioned the other day that I am having a milestone birthday soon. (I will be 600 months old. I will be 40-10. I will celebrate the 10th anniversary of my 40th birthday. Ha! So many euphemisms! So funny! Not.) Josh is having a lot of anxiety about it because he doesn't want to be accused of being a slacker-husband by his friends. He keeps asking me what I want and what we should do to mark the occasion. He knows better than to pull one of those surprise party moves on me. I don't "surprise" well.

I've been hemming and hawing and saying, "I don't know, a party is an awful lot of work. Let's just go out for dinner with friends. And I'll buy myself some new clothes."

So we were drinking a little sake the night he got back from NYC and I was NOT DRUNK but I was definitely silly and tipsy. Josh said, "You know, it wouldn't be a big deal, we could do a party here. Let's just make some phone calls and make it happen." 

And I said, "Wooo! Yes! A party! I love parties!" Then I twittered about it.

But after attending my mother-in-law's 80th birthday last night, hosted by my incomparable sister-in-law and her husband, I'm thinking that it looks like way, way too much work. The interior of our house needs painting desperately, the front yard has the winter blahs, and the bathrooms are about to be remodeled any day now and no doubt would be all torn up just in time for the party. I realize that we could have a party without painting the house first, but, I don't know. We would definitely have to do some major cleaning.

So. Meh. I don't feel like it.

As for what I want for my birthday? I'm a little embarrassed to tell you guys this because I worry that it's shallow and vain, but I would really like to get my teeth professionally whitened. I figure I've got another 30 years, easy, of red wine and coffee ahead of me.

Have any of you ever had it done? Got any info that I need? Does it really work? I want me some WHITE-ASS teeth.

I Miss You, Baby. Really, I Do.

Josh is out of town for 3 days and 3 nights. It's rough, but I'm hanging in there as best I can. Eating soup for dinner. Leaving the dishes until the morning. Watching whatever I want on TV. Sleeping with all the cats and dogs on the bed with me. It's brutal.

Meanwhile, he's in New York City with his boss/best friend eating at the finest restaurants in town so I'm sure he's suffering too.

Hey, guess what? Tomorrow's Ash Wednesday and I'm going to go to Mass and get me some of them ashes smeared on my face.  If I'm lucky there will be incense and organ music.  POMP. I  want PAPIST POMP, people.

Yup, I'm still dabbling with my Catholic roots. Do not tell my mother because it would make her so happy and I refuse to give her that kind of satisfaction because I am immature as all get-out.

I wonder what Sasha and Evangeline will refuse to tell me because it will give me too much satisfaction. These mother-daughter rituals are heart-warming, aren't they?

Speaking of Evangeline, it looks like we will not be going to Russia to visit her. Our plan was to go over there during my spring break in March, but she emailed us and said that she thinks she will be too involved in her classes to be able to spend a lot of time with us, plus she will be on a trip to St Petersburg during the latter part of that week. It kind of sounds like she's blowing us off, doesn't it? But she swears she isn't.

To be perfectly honest this is not a crushing blow for a variety of reasons such as expense, weather, and language barrier. We're thinking of having us a little sunshine-y vacation in the good old USA instead, for a hell of a lot less money. Evangeline is very independent and likes to immerse herself totally in whatever it is that she is pursuing. If she is comfortable being that far from home for 4 months, I say RAWK ON, HONEY. Except she would disapprove of the blatant use of age-inappropriate slang.

Okay. I'm going to go dirty a few more dishes and leave them strewn about the kitchen, then it's off to bed to sleep in a diagonal position with furry creatures fore and aft.