Tasting Tragedy

This week it all seems to have come to a head for me- stress from work, stress from building a house, stress from finding a new nanny (yes, that's right, we have to find a new nanny! More on that later), stress from bills, stress from how the sequestration will affect our home budget (because, yes, it indeed does! I'm federally funded at work!), stress from schedules, stress from planning (birthday parties, moves, dog sitters etc.), stress from life.

Ugh. Can you tell I'm so exhausted?

But, what seems to make the most impact on me, as of late, are the boys.

Its when I am maximally stressed that I noticed with incredible sensitivity how each is so unique and precious. How when I blink I miss some of it. This time though, the raw edges of heartache are like sandpaper on silk, pulling threads attached to the precious moments of my boys lives. I think often of the perfect moments in the morning when Collin says "warm me up momma! and snuggles in bed with me or Owens immense hugs and smiles of pure unadulterated joy and I want to be with them more. I want to remember to hold on to those moments, because those special gifts will be what I need when I'm at the end of my mommy rope- frustrated, irritated and quick to lose my temper. Normally, when I'm sucked into the moments that I force me to re-evaluate, to consider if I'm losing it, I wind up just this side of the tipping point. Taking more time to savor more time with the boys, to hold on to those moments and I slide back into our family harmony.

But this time the tipping point has occurred in the middle of so many awful, heartbreaking crimes and tragedies against innocent tiny children. Its thrown me over the edge, and I find myself on the other side of it all, a little bit at a loss.

In the past three weeks I've read heart wrenching stories of mothers and fathers losing their children. From the amazing and talented Emily Rapp (who went to high-school with a close colleagues of mine) and the traumatic story of watching her beautiful son, Ronan, lose a battle to Tay-Sachs disease at the age of three. You can read here story here. Or better yet, read her book: The Still Point of the Turning World.

To a mom in Collin's preschool, due with a much anticipated baby boy in mid March, sensed something was wrong just days before his due date and went in to find her most feared nightmare had come true, giving birth to a full term stillborn baby boy, with no apparent medical reason to explain such heartbreak.

To the senseless Chicago shooting just days ago in which a father who was changing his infant daughter's, Johnalyn Watkins, diaper on the front seat of his car looked on as someone seeking him out brutally shot and killed his beautiful baby girl. You can learn about this tremendous loss here.

Or worse yet, today, the horrific shooting of a 13 month old baby boy while enjoying a walk in a stroller with his mom, when two teenager approached her and shot the baby boy, all the while the mom tried desperately to cover and protect her son, Antonio. But even her shield could not save this innocent baby boy. You can read about this tragedy here.

These stories together, combined with the stress of our lives currently, gave me pause. For the first time in raising my boys I experienced a moment of having more fear in the outside world than hope. In my mind's eye, this is a tragedy. It illustrates for me that I've changed so much as a mom, but also that these tragedies are so guttural, so intimate, that they feel like the are my very own and they make me wonder whats in the future for my boys at a societal level.

I have indeed changed in becoming a mom. I don't think you can understand the  instant anxiety, monumental crush of your heart, the physical ache burried deep in your chest when you hear of tragedy befalling a young child, unless you are a parent. Before having kids it was awful to watch movies where children were hurt, or hear new stories of trauma or crime involving children. But it was like a superficial wound. The hurt was a mix of anger, shock and sorrow at a the shallowest of levels. I could watch such stories and not think twice about them minutes later. 
Its not like that anymore.
Now, I really can't watch movies with children who get hurt or killed, or even terminally sick. It puts a pit in my stomach the moment I start watching and I automatically take on the pain of that parent and child. I can't get through them. I have to change the channel or stop the movie. When I read blogs of children who have suffered, I weep. I cry like they are my very own children. As though I share that raw and brutal pain in the moments of reading those stories. And when I see instances of hatred in our community and world, and find in some horrific moment that a child has experienced some senseless tragedy, I am hurt. I am angry. I feel so broken.

I think briefly of a moment in this world without my boys and my heart aches with unbelievable hurt. Just thinking about losing them puts me in a place of inconsolable grief. I really can't imagine the pain these parent's go through, because as much as it seems so visceral for me- I know it doesn't compare, even for a moment to the horror they wake up to each day without their child.

Its this kind of response to a child that puts hope in my heart for our world. That if we all hurt so fundamentally and know the need to protect our children, that we might inspire pure hope for change, encourage more love and support and less lack of responsibility. There are so many women and men around this world that share these types of reactions, yet, even with this hope in my heart, it feels today, at this tipping point, as though this world is making a shift toward each person for themselves. Which is so disheartening, because without the help of others to hold our children up, to bear the weight of a friend's stillbirth alongside her, to console a grieving father and he tries to move forward in a life without his daughter in his arms, to reconcile the tragedy of an incurable disease striking such a vibrant young baby, we are all alone in this world and each child that grows older will be left to his or her own devices to make decisions that may impact the world.

And so I wonder. Am I teaching them to be kind? Do they know to be brave and do what is right instead of what is popular? Do they know to stand up for what they believe in? Do they know to help others? Do they know to carry happiness and hope in their heart instead accusations, hatred and self-rightousness?

I know that they are little and I can't answer those questions now. But in the moments that miss them, that I miss being with them because I am at work, or I am half attending because I am so stressed, I like to think of the times I've been able to capture glimpses of these skills. So, today, as I reached this tipping point, I arrived at an uncomfortable spot of wondering if teaching them these skills is enough- do I have to also fear for them in every moment of their lives? Do I have to wonder if every car that drives by might contain someone malicious, do I have to assume every stranger is of the worst intentions?

I hope not. Because that is no way to live life. There's not a whole lot of "living" that goes on when you are looking over every shoulder.

And so, I hope this moment, is just a moment and nothing more.
I hope that as a society, a community, a state, we find new ways to help parents raise thoughtful, responsible children. I hope we find ways to reach out to parents in time of loss and carry their grief for them. I hope we remember that we cannot judge anyone until we have walked a day in their shoes.
I hope my boys know in their hearts that their role in this world is not solely about themselves- that they are part of something much bigger and they need to take responsibility of their part in helping others.

I have lots of hopes, and if my boys, in their wise old ages are the only ones to ever read this post, I hope they can look back and say that they see the good in the world. That they know no matter how much stress and turmoil we feel in the day to day, that there is a much bigger picture that needs our attention.

These tastes of tragedy are visceral and evocative.
I do not like being on this side of the tipping point.
I hope collectively, the world shows stories that can tip me back to the other side.
I'm ready.

Whats happen' at the house?

Oh, you know, just a week of typical crazies.
This week things are really starting to heat up on the timeline. We're pushing to move faster and the team is at least sort of accomodating us.

We'll be living in this house on June 1st, come hell or highwater. Hopefully its easier than all that though.
This week there should be lots of new fun photos, but here are some from a week ago that I didn't post yet to hold you over.  Mostly, its just to document whats going on in the basement. Last week upstairs was more mudding and sanding (dust EVERYWHERE!) but in the basement things are starting to shape up now:

 This one is in the basement bathroom. Look the venty thing is gone!


See, extra close. No vent. Just a nice light for your viewing pleasure while in the shower.

 Here's the bathroom from the outside of the door. When its finished you'll see a vanity in that corner space/wall.

 Here's the new rec room in the basement. Its where our current living room furniture will go.

 Here's the other side of the rec room. You can see the stairs and such here.  Also there is this neato built in shelf from where the foundations meet. 

Here is the new play space for the boys. I'm having a hard time envisioning this one in my mind's eye. I'm sure I'll come around to it though.

 The laundry room with the washer and dryer. No laundry in here yet though :)


And then back to upstairs.

 Sanded office.

 Sanded kitchen.

 Sanded main floor bathroom.

 Sanded dining room.

 Sanded living room.

 Sanded loft.

 Sanded stairway.

 Sanded boys' room.

 Sanded nursery.

 Sanded Master.

The sand is really no fun, but the next step, priming, makes it look a lot more like a finished house.  But, alas, since I can barely keep up with taking showers, let alone my kids, the blog, finishing a quilt, etc., you'll have to wait a bit.

Quilting: Part 3

I'm almost there! Really. The quilt is nearing completion. I never thought I'd actually get there.Its been two years in the making!

But here we are in the final lap.

Here's the top quilt. And, here's what I've learned about top quilts.

1. Hexagons are DIFFICULT (see parts 1 and 2 for more on this).
2. Even though all of my fabrics are so fun and pretty on their own, it doesn't mean that they are pretty together. I wish I would have laid out the quilt more thoroughly before committing to the pattern. Toward the end I just did rows, but, I didn't realize or think about that the rows would need to go well will the rows near them, not just with the hexies within that row.
3. I got better as I went. My first row is especially pitiful.
4. Sewing isn't so intimidating now.
5. I have a love hate relationship with the iron.

So, here's the top quilt before I ironed it all out.

Here's a top down view.

Here's the hexie flower with the brown Riley blake fabric

Here's a split image of how the hexies traveled from green to aqua to orange and brown.

In total it took me awhile to do, but I'm happy that I actually stuck with it. The next installment will be on basting and quilting. I had my first go at crazy quilting, which is SO HARD, but another lesson in the fun of sewing. I also met my new best friend, the walking foot.

Tape and Mud

This week and last they've been mudding and taping like madmen. But, the mud makes a difference. It definitely makes things come together a bit more and while they've been mudding and taping we've been making lots of design decisions- picking out floors, tiles and counter tops. Here's the usual tour, with not much more to see, except all of the blobs of mud and tape.

The kitchen with loads of plaster pails in it. This week we hit a snag when our finisher thought the ceilings were not smooth (instead he thought they would be knock down) and we thought they were smooth. You can probably guess who won that conflict. 

The ceilings are smooth now and forever.

Here's a picture of the dining room, with lots of light flooding in from the living room.

Here's from the living room side toward the stairs.

This one is in the boys room.

And another.

This one is from the boys door all the way down to the nursery. Can you see how it will look?

Taping and mudding that lovely smooth ceiling in the living room.

The bridge from the other side.

The master bedroom.

Paint choices for the kitchen. Its hard to pick so many paints!

The mud room and the back door.

So basically just lots of mud. 

But then there was this. 

Do you see that vent?

Do you see where it is?

Its IN the basement shower.

Which is not really okay.

You can't really take a shower with a giant duct in it.

 

We couldn't really figure out the heating guys arrived at this little arrangement. But when the master plumber saw hit he wasn't very happy.  He nearly went through the roof about the lack of options here. From his perspective, you'd have to duck a foot or two to take a shower, making it really impossible for this shower to be functional. And, so ensued the plumber-heater discussion and call outs. Three back and forths and a few different adventures in duct placement and we think this week we'll finally see some resolution, but the final product is yet to be seen.

Anyhow, nothing else new to report today. Coming soon to the blog near you: laminate floors, tile and priming! Lions, tigers and bears! oh my!

Until next week!