a long time gone, but back to writing

I haven't written in almost 2 years and, my, how things have changed yet stayed the same. My big girl is almost 5 and a big sister. Our newest love is almost 11 months old (Friday--holy buckets!) and with their birthdays being a week and a half apart (oops!) I have lots of planning to do. Luckily, I have already gotten a head start on Big's and Little's, though Big has gotten much more attention. I have Little's cake planned and family will be there. I think I've even found her birthday present from hubs and me, but I might wait a bit to see. As for Big, yes she's gotten the bulk of the attention recently. I'm going to blame this on the fact that she 1) will remember what happened and 2) has been able to give input. The theme this year is a "Paper Doll, Tea Party Birthday." Doesn't that sound like a mouthful? You betcha. I've got it all planned out, though, and I'm ahead of the game in terms of getting things together. The invitations are a labor of love (and probably a huge dollop of stupidity) as they are paper doll dresses on the cover with a hole for her face and inside another paper doll outfit, a bathing suit. Yes, I printed and cut these out. By. Hand.

Luckily, my brain kicked in (probably slept for 2 hours that night) and I was able to connect with a fabulous friend who shared her die-cutting machine and made about 4 dozen balloons, tea pots and party hats to include on the invitations. I must say, I am grateful for that friend. Those were done in an hour, maybe whereas each dress that I printed, colored (therapeutic though it was) and cut out, took at least that long. Oh, and there are a dozen of each style of dress and head (I cut my sweet love's head out of a picture that I printed). I'm definitely one crafty momma, but I'm a bit insane, too. That I'll also blame on sleep deprivation as Little has *yet* to sleep through the night. Trust me, I am working on every angle of sleep training I can short of putting her in the basement to sleep (I'm kidding! No need to report us!). I think part of the problem (okay, a lot of the problem) is my fault and a little Hub's. He can't stand to hear her cry and she sleeps so much better when she's beside me that we've created this monster and now we have to sleep (or not sleep) with it. Maybe she'll give me a great birthday present (from her) and sleep through the night soon. Ah, glorious sleep! How I've missed you, dear friend.

Still, my little family makes me happier than I thought I could be and I cherish them every moment.

Keeping busy

It doesn't seem to matter how much time I think I have, I alwasy seem to be too busy to do everything I would like. I work, I craft, I clean...well, sort of. But that's the fun part of life, right? A messy house filled with smiles means my focus is on the important things.
I can't believe how much has changed in 3 years. And next month, the munchkin goes to a new school, a Montessori school. While I am excited for the opportunity for her, it is bittersweet. She will leave the place she has gone for 3 years. Though many of those connections have changed, most graduating and moving away, there are some that have strengthened and formed into amazing friendships (revolving around my munchkin). They love her and I love them for loving her.
So with all the crafting going in, it keeps me busy. Keeps me from focusing on how quickly time has passed and continues to rapidly race to the next minute, hour, day...year.
Looking back at all that has happened in the 7 years we've been here. First, it's hard to believe it's been 7 years, but in some ways I see the changes. Perhaps they show up in my wardrobe and (slightly) larger pants sizes (I'm okay with it. I have a kid); perhaps they show in the additional "pigment-free" hairs that pop from my head. But the last 3? They're on the face on my munchkin who grows bigger, stronger and smarter every day. And, while I wish I could find that stupid pause button, I know it will hide and I will have to remember in pictures, in memories, in the changes she makes. But it's good and I don't mind keeping busy when it makes my heart smile.

It's that time of year again...

the beginning of yet another academic year. And, as I listen to current and new students been advised, I wish I were one of them. The desire is so intense that I have been wearing earplugs so I don't have to listen or at least have something to block out part of the conversation I wish were mine.  I hope to take a course this semester, perhaps audit at least. Maybe that will quench this thirst I have. The desire to do more, to be more. 

Processing a tragedy

I have started this sentence over and over again, not sure where to start. I know that I feel like writing and getting this out. I don't know what I want others to read or know. More importantly, I don't want anyone else to be traumatized by what I have lived through.I think that's why I haven't talked about it much, at least until I met with professionals who have helped. Still, I feel I need to write even if no one reads it.


It's still very hard but the raw, open wound feeling is decreasing and I find I am able to breathe better with each passing day. Of course, therapy is multiple forms is helping, too. Two days ago the old adage, "Time heals all wounds" would have resulted in a pissed-off balk from me. I would have never believed I could move forward as much as I have, especially in this short a period of time. And while my heart and mind is healing, my spirit is also taking her turn. I need to write this so please, if you read this, be careful with your heart.


I flew home to Virginia last week to be with my family after my 29-year-old cousin, Phillip, lost his 9-month battle with leukemia. I had not cried as it was, and is, still very much surreal. I only really cried for my cousin, Michelle, his big sister, with whom I have always had a stronger bond. She and I are one week apart in age and were inseparable anytime we were together. My heart was breaking for her, my aunt and my uncle and those who were with him and love him. The painful parts: he was doing well then relapsed viciously and was gone far too quickly (as is anyone who hasn't lived their full life); Michelle had to read a passage at the memorial service and all I wanted to do was stand beside her to support her; his girlfriend, surrounded by supporters (and who is amazing), staying with him and being so supportive. I was able to make it through relatively well. I spent quality time with my great-Aunt Ginna (who is fabulous and for whom I am named). She told me things about my family I didn't know and I cannot wait to see her again. I left, got to the airport, got on the plane and that's when the single worst moment of my life occurred.

Mid-flight I turned to see a flight attendant in red, talking to a mom who stood up and then noticed she was holding a child, turned her upside-down and began hitting her on the back (the Heimlich maneuver for small children). It was then she began to exclaim "Oh my God!" From there it is a play-by-play of images and screams in my head. From the two calls over the intercom for a doctor, a nurse, "anyone with EMT training" to help, to the father (still in his Army uniform) screaming and crying for his baby, to the mother's screams, pleads and cries, to the quiet and back to the screaming. The worst was the image of the baby (just about 5 or 6 rows behind me) being carried off of the flight by first-responders then, later, a happenstance glance out the window and watching the mother run from the back of an ambulance and collapsing on the tarmac.


That baby, just 10 months old had grabbed a handful of peanuts off her mother's tray and choked to death.

I spent the night in a hotel, waiting for my next flight home. I slept, if you can call it that, with the television on, dreaming/reliving the events. I cried on the bus to the airport when I saw a plane taking off. I had 3 panic attacks on my own flight home: take off, landing, and (of course) when they gave out peanuts and other snacks. I collapsed on the floor of an airplane bathroom and sobbed--shoulder wrenching, heart-broken sobs--on that nasty floor. The parallels, albeit it small, were too hard for me. The baby's name, I believe, was Nylee (I don't know how she spelled it). My baby's name, Neala. She was 10 months old, that means she would be 1 in August. My baby was born in August.

I recognize now my passing through the beginning stages of grief, but I got stuck. I was scared/terrified/heart-broken. I bargained. I got angry (said "You took Phillip. You cannot have her.") and I felt guilty because I didn't help. I have CPR certification through my job but knew others were far more qualified than I and there were: a med student and 3 nurses. Still the screams and images have haunted me nearly every moment since. Granted it's only been a week. I haven't been able to fully recover. In some ways I don't want to; in others I must so that I can continue to function. I will admit I am proud of myself for recognizing how severely I have been affected and for asking for help so quickly. I am proud of myself for recognizing there are things outside of my control, for making myself work and not perseverate more than the flashbacks. I am proud of myself for talking to people I trust. I am proud of myself for writing this.


There are parts of my response that I also know are knee-jerk reactions. I wasn't able to be alone. I wasn't able to be in quiet situations. And the combination of the two? Terrifying. I know that I will not fly again without EMT/First responder training because I can never let myself feel that helpless again. Ever. I know that the more I talk about what happened, the more I gain power on my own mind and the more I allow myself to heal. I do not expect to get better immediately (which I normally would have, in the past). But I recognize my strength, as well, and that has helped. I will do more. I must. It is who I am. For now, I continue to process...



Hug your babies. Love them. Make sure they know how special they are.

Blessings and healing

All kinds of catching up to do

This post will have to be an introduction to the many I still have coming out of my head. So let's see...In February I was crabby (gee, there's s shocker!). That comes and goes the like rising and falling of the tides. Sometimes I can handle the frustrating circumstances in which I find myself; other times, I think I put myself into those situations subconsciously because I either want to pout or need a good swift kick in the butt. Some parts of my world had become stagnant (and still are in some places). I think that's just par for the course. I've learned to deal, learned to manage and am learning to let go. Don't know why that last one is the hardest one to get, but surprise! It's now been a year since the GGs left us. I just found two unpublished posts about them. I'll still need to finish writing them and then proceed to the point of closure. Still not there in some ways. I do find it a bit ironic, that I return to those posts the week of my grandmother's estate sale. Tuesday I was a ball of tears in my office as I looked at the website that held her items, instantly linking memories to each picture (except for my mom's dollhouse we never knew was there), and being willing to give every last piece of her furniture away in exchange for another hug or word or smile. Heck, I'd even take another back-handed compliment or insult. Luckily, I saved a voicemail she left me on New Year's (in 2009, I think) that says, "Hi, it's Grandmother. I just wanted you to know I love you." I wonder if there's a way I can download it and save it forever. I'll have to ask Verizon. And, while I know it's set up to ask every 28 days or so, it always seems to pop up on a day where I really needed to hear her voice. Hmmm, cosmic perhaps? (okay, taking a break...crying again)
GG posts aside (or forthcoming), things at work were a bit tumultuous. Most of it was grant-related so I covered that on my "professional" blog. In short, we should have known in February what the outcome of our submission was. Instead, we were told we would find out in April...for a grant that ends in May. Many people chose the "glass-half-full" viewpoint while I just tried to keep my lunch down, or fight back a panic attack, anytime anyone discussed the delayed review. Then, in April, we were told our score was pretty bad and that we would have to rewrite. (Damn, that stinks.) But wait, it got worse...we had to have it done by June 1.That basically left a month to go through the reviewers responses, see what we can change and (for nearly every team) rewrite our proposals. The good news was that our bridging funds were/are being viewed positively in that there's a chance we'll be okay. (I'm still not completely certain since these were also the "glass-half-full" people)
In the midst of all of that, I attended a symposium in Greece (yet another post to write--just the fun stuff, not the work-stuff, which is already on the prof blog) and got to present not one, not two, but three different presentations. Each of which was invited to be published in a proceedings. I will probably submit one, but that may or may not happen due to potential drama associated with it...still waiting to find out.
But our grant is in, I may write a paper, and I have to prepare another talk and poster. In the mean time, the hubs is writing his dissertation....still...and hoping to finish this summer. The munchkin, well, she's just amazing. Smart. Funny. Caring. Polite. Golly, I love her!

I'm still paying it forward: I worked with my neighbor, Allison, to make bunnies to help fund her trip to Europe and also donated half of every sale. I think we raised about $200 (and if not I'm giving her at least that much). The hair is still long, but will be cut and donated. Oh, yes, it will.
My nephew arrived and brought with him a whole host of uncertainties, but he is now doing well. My cousin, Phil, is not. I was told yesterday he has been given 30 days. Days. I don't know what I would do if someone said I had a month to live. I'd probably make a bucket list like I've been told he is doing. I'll probably do something in his honor, as well. I'm still pondering that.
So prepare for a new flourish in writing (I hope). Lots going on and lots to say. Until then, blessings to you!