Mother Knows Best

SONG: Forever Young, Alphaville not the Jay Z version, old school!.


But you can't squeeze a lifetime into a bedside chat. 

I've been trying to write a post around that thought. I had it while sitting at a traffic light, Monday, tears streaming down my cheeks, trying not to look at my phone, I wanted to text and drive, she likes to text, cause it's hard for her to talk. This time my Mom, not my Dad, was sent to the hospital, this time she was the focus.  And I couldn't bare it.

Moms aren't to be thought about, looked too closely at, if you're lucky, and I am, they're just supposed to be there.  They are there to say unthinkable things to, to tell petty hurts, how you really feel about the cream your  husband gave you, or the pain that friend did. She's there to yell mean things at in times of frustration, mean things you wouldn't dare speak to another breathing body and loving things you might never feel for another human being. Except maybe if you have your own child, and then well, you know what she went through loving you and you love her even more. And it is never supposed to end. But the doctors said she has COPD and it is advanced and it is ending.

All I want to do is sit with her and make it all stop but if I can't, I at least want to get all of our time together. I keep thinking of things I might want to say, but we have the relationship where I can talk to her ten times a day and then not for days and then everyday. She's just always there. I can't imagine a situation, in what if I'm lucky, and I am, will be the next forty years of my life, where I won't need to talk to her.  And that's just new stuff, I wouldn't mind going back over old stuff too, that's a lifetime. And so that's how I had the thought, But you can't squeeze a lifetime into a bedside chat. 

I can imagine an Oscar, a Tony and a Grammy sitting on my mantel in Bel Air, the West Coast home, (the one we bought with the Publishers Clearing House winnings) next to the framed award for Entrepreneur of the Year, (the year before I win the Pulitzer Prize) and my acceptance speeches from the podium each time, but I can't imagine a moment without my mom, that's too big.

So this is what it is, this is what it is to lose your mother. Everyone goes through it, if they're lucky, and I am. I've heard so many people talk about it, and not when it was anyone close to me but on T.V. and stuff. I've felt bored, I felt bad, but honestly, I was kinda bored.  Now, my ears cock up like a retriever hearing a shot go off, "What happened? How long? Where? What do you do now? How are you upright?"

I went to see her at the hospital, Monday, I lay in bed with her, crying.
     "You're going to die, how am I going to live?" I asked. She looked at me as best she could, I thought, with the I.V. and Oxygen tubes restricting her motion.
    "Would you please?" She asked, her face, red, strained.
    "I know, it's so hard." I said. Glad, she was taking it as bad as I was. There are six of us after all, this proved I was the favorite.
     "Susan, please... you're... on... my Oxygen."

I looked around to discover I had lay on the tube that was delivering her oxygen, she couldn't breathe.
 
     "Oh, sorry." I said, sitting up, pulling the tube from underneath me, "Sorry, whoah, let me get that."

I re-positioned myself and the tube so she could breathe. I was eager to get back to our conversation though. I desperately wanted to know what she would say to me when she wasn't here anymore, because those are the thoughts I knew I could count on. I may not know what else may come up, but I knew she was going to die and before she did, I needed her to console me as if she were in heaven.
   
     "Okay, so as I was saying..." I said, a chuckle over cutting off her oxygen supply. "So you're going to be dead, and I'm not going to be able to live. I'm going to be so sad, and not have you to talk to. What am I going to do?"

I looked at my mother for an answer, her face now blank.

And then she smiled.
   
     "That's perfect." She said, nodding patiently, her voice a whisper. "That's so perfect, so actressy, "You're going to die, what am I going to do?"

I didn't understand. I was nearly drowning in tears.
 
    "Mom, I need you to tell me what I am supposed to do, how am I going to live without you, while you're dead?"
     "Susan. You're telling me I'm dying, and asking ME how to help you. How do you think it makes me feel for you to tell me I'm dying?"
     "I thought you knew." I said, steadfast. "Don't you?"
     "NO! I'm not dying! I'm getting better!" She said. She looked at me like I was nuts.
 
My tears dried up. I was beginning to understand.
     "Oh! I'm so sorry, I thought you were dying." I said, "and I thought it would be good if we could talk about it."
     "No, I'm not dying," She said, taking a sip of water. "I'm getting better."
     "What a relief!" I said, "I feel so much better. (A deep sigh and a breather). How funny about the actressy? That is so true. I would never have thought about that. So funny, Mom."
      "Yes, perfect." She said.
      "And the oxygen? That was like a Leslie Neilson- Airplane move! Bahahah!" I said. So happy to have her back.
       "Yep." She shook her head.
       "But maybe it's good to do like a dry-run anyway?" I asked.
       "A dry-run of what?"
       "Of when you're... you know...gone." I stammered.
        "Susan."
And I knew the way you know when the conversation is over with her, that the conversation was over.

She gets out of the hospital today and I talked to one of her doctor's who explained to me that she can live for a long time as long as she doesn't have many more flare ups, infections like bronchitis or pneumonia, that will repeatedly bring her back to the hospital. I was really glad to hear that. Cause that conversation may have been over, but lots of others aren't. Thank God. Now I can put my still beating broken bloody heart back into my torn chest. But I'd hate to be dramatic;).
     

   
   

    "


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Cashmere Remix!

Book- I Like You; Hospitality Under the Influence by Amy Sedaris
Song: Love You Like a Love Song by Selena Gomez

Did I say I'd never do another post with pictures and a project? Ah, seems the second I say "never" I am determined to "once again"!  So here goes it.

How to turn a moth eaten cashmere sweater, (but you could substitute anything you have no more use for in your closet, wool, felt, silk, Brillo? BRILLO? Why on earth would anyone have a Brillo sweater? That's just silly, and not cozy at all. Anyway.

I found five sweaters this year eaten by moths. Not shredded but just enough tiny festering holes to render them useless. Egads! 

I immediately thought of my dear friend Marie Claire in Sonoma, CA who makes incredibly beautiful blankets out of cashmere. Unfortunately, on my list of many dreaded tasks, is going to the post office. So these guys have been packed up and sitting on my dining room table for months. Sorry MC! Then I saw this (see photo of Christmas pillow). I was about to chuck it into the Christmas bin with all the other holiday crap. When I discovered an opportunity. Why not take this (see picture of husbands yellow cashmere sweater, larger than baby Henry), and create a cashmere pillow cover ala Ralph Lipshitz Lauren? Ah? I know! I'M A GENIUS!! IIIIIILUVAPARADE!

Okay, So find a pillow you wouldn't mind covering and whose size you like and slip your sweater over it to test it out. The bottom of the sweater is finished so you can use that as one end. I tied the arms around the back to get a better idea, when you finish it you can use a different fabric for the back, like a heavy cotton, flannel or burlap could be cool, just remember not Brillo, unless...anyway. I liked what I saw, and have plans to take it to my local tailor and get it sewn up. But if you're inclined slide a thread into the hole of a needle and do it your own darn self! This would be nicely finished with horn buttons, a simple invisible seam, or hell, get your man involved and put duck tape for an industrial feel;) You may even want to add a monogram, center a large letter of your last name perhaps? Ah? 

Here you have it. 

Final Score. Moths- 0 Me-1. Game. Over.  Marie Claire the rest are yours! And this time I mean it. Never. Again. Good Week!! xxoo!

Table Juicing

SONG: Our House - Madness
Link: Meredith Geller- Holistic Health and Lifestyle Consultant

You know those blogs where some crafty byatch is forever creating something even more perfect in her perfect world? She's knitting the perfect meal or eating the most well balanced sweater (reverse that), and you're left to feel inspired but inevitably like a total failure? Well, in this weeks post I'm hoping to accomplish just that. Wish me luck!

Wooden side table sanded 

My first project was to sand down and paint this ugly old wooden side-table and transform it into something modern and usable. Pay no attention to my burned out front lawn. I never promised you a rose garden. First, I sanded the table down with fine grade sand paper. I had it on hand, (not sure why), but you can find it at Home Depot or any hardware store.

side view of sanded table

 Next take a can of spray paint made for wood, in the color and finish you desire. For my modern sleek look, I chose high-gloss black.

It only took me an hour to finish the table, including bringing it outside, sanding down the finish so that the paint would stick, two coats of spray paint and moving it back inside. It's probably a better idea to paint it in your backyard or driveway if you have one, but I used the closest, widest doorway. Insuring, that it looks as if I took a blow-torch to the left hand corner of the front yard. And I didn't think it could get any worse looking. Never say never.

Cardboard under dirty feet.  But look at those  sexy legs!

For my second coat I noticed that the feet of the table were, sinking into the dirt, outside of my spray can's reach and covered in soil. So I ripped up a Pampers box, and stuck them underneath. Again, probably better to just use the driveway. On that same precautionary note, you may want to slip on a pair of gloves. The spray paint did a number on my hand. But that's just another expert tip. Do you feel like a failure yet? You will after this. I'm not worried.

SHAZAM! SITTING PRETTY! 

So there's my updated table, it won't be showing up in House Beautiful, but I do think it's an improvement. Plus, putting this blog together took three times as long as doing the table, which cost under $30. all in. So, I hope you'll feel inspired. (And useless:).

NEXT! Juicing!

I have a Jack LaLane Juicer, bought for $99. in the basement at Macy*s. It's a pain in the cankles to clean, so I haul it out only under very certain conditions- snot, congestion, that weird swallowing thing that happens when you know you're getting sick and to make my friends feel less-than.  Once those conditions are met it's game on, Jack. It always does the trick. I buy my greens at the local supermarket and I'm sure to bring my resusable canvas grocery bags, scowling at the people on line who have "forgotten" but really just don't care as much about our environment as I do. Obviously. I make eyes at them saying so, this makes the experience even more fun.

Julian feeding the juicer

The kids love to juice and it's a great way to get the little whiners up on the kitchen counter tops too distracted by the sound of the machine to realize they could lose their young lives by the sharp spinning blades. Perfect!

Look Mama, no hands! (Literally!)

This green stuff is DEEEE_licious. On a serious note,  nothing is more exciting than seeing the kids drink green! I tell them it's Hulk juice. But you can say it's slime. That would make it even more exciting!

Is that Juice ready yet?

My older boys will go so far as juicing and smelling, they won't drink more than a sip, if that. But I have started baby Henry on it and he LOVES it. So I hope his brothers won't ruin our groove, he'll be set up for life. This really gets my heart pumping.

Highchairs can be just as dangerous as kitchen counters! Yippy!

I used Kale, Apples and Carrots. Just half the bunch of Kale, two Macintosh apples, (to take the edge off the bitter Kale and a carrot for some more sweetness and color), yields enough juice for the three of us. I also like to use, celery, beets and ginger. and Mayo. Just Kidding.  My go to nutritional guru Meredith Geller, suggested I make a batch yielding a couple of days worth and store it in a Mason jar in the fridge. That way I can avoid the lengthy clean-up. She has lots of other awesome tips and a great website. Check her out. 

What's better looking than this? NOTHING! Feel useless yet? :)  

Probably not. Well, that's the last time I try to out-do those chicks who know what they're doing. Holy Rolly, this was the biggest pain in the neck, from the pictures to posting the pictures (you may have noticed I'm no Diane Arbus) to describing and pricing, YUCK! So much easier to write a little jam then all that, phew! I'm sweating.  Never again. I hope. Kudo's to the rest.  

Good Week all!

Smart Cart

Song: Good Feeling, Flo Rida

     I thought tonight that so much changes every day that the only thing I can count on is my kids peeing in the tub. Not sure if that revelation will stick, but I thought it was kinda cute. Wink wink. Let's arm wrestle.

NEXT! A partly fictional anecdote.

    Today, while online at Costco, a man who appeared to be in his sixties began chatting with me.
   
     "I am not fond of the winter." He said.

     "Yeah, it's pretty cold." I said.
   
     "Not the cold, the dark." He said.
   
      "Hmm. That too."
   
     We moved our carts forward, the line was long. But I didn't feel in a rush.
   
     "I suffer from clinical depression. It's worse in the winter."
   
     "Ah."
 
     "But yesterday I felt a burst of good feeling," He said, putting a body size bag of toilet paper on the conveyor belt. I smiled. He was charming. "I told my wife to call the doctor. She said, don't worry it'll pass."
   
     I laughed with him.
 
     "It gave me hope though, and before I knew it, I had another good feeling." He said. He had on a light brown cashmere sweater, plush and soft, inviting like an ad for carpet cleaner or grandparents, if they were for sale.
   
     He was now separating himself from his cart and positioning it on the side of the cashier while I put my own larger than life purchases on the same conveyor, our items divided by a foot long red plastic stick. He came over to help me with a large bottle of Tide. He didn't make a face like it was heavy but I could see a vein in his neck strain. I should have felt bad, but I didn't.
   
     "I think if I can string enough of these feelings together, I might have what one would call a good mood." He said.

       "You are so smart." I said, laughing.
   
    Then he took the bottle of Tide and swung it at my head, I ducked.  Just kidding. But wouldn't that have been funny?
   
     Really he just finished packing his cart with the check out guy and then walked away.

Good week!! xx
   



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