In the beginning, you wonder why the world is still spinning.

Why everyone is still going about their day as if nothing changed.

How does the world operate without the person you love so dearly in it?

Why can’t you catch your breath?

How will you ever move on?

And then… time puts distance between you and the person you lost.

You fear you will forget them. How they smell, how their arms felt wrapped around you. The way their eyes looked at you. It feels that the more you hold on, the faster everything slips away.

Because, like a picture out of focus, our memories fade.

The family stories grow and change – told now by others.

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And then a familiar scent, or melody jars you.

A memory flashes through your mind..

The melody of her laughter.

Her morning routine in the summer.

The smell of his pancakes cooking.

The way she weaved stories, and ended them with “and that’s that.”

And the feelings? They come rushing back. In the scent of her perfume that still lingers on her sweater that hangs in my closet. In the laugh of my Mom that is so much like his. In the teddy bear that he gave me.

Love.

Their love will wash over you –  never forgotten, never lost and often just when you need it the most.

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And that’s that.

Around midnight, I woke up to Casey with his shirt off and his arm raised standing over me saying “GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!”

It was a tick. Stuck in his armpit.

Having just been woken out of a deep sleep, I had no idea what was going on. For real. But we got (most) of it out, and have named the remaining part Vladmir Herman. Hopefully Casey’s skin will do the rest of the job getting it out.

Ticks bite. (Pun intended).

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Our refrigerator broke, because the universe likes to wipe its bum with our money, apparently. We hope that it can be fixed for less than buying a new refrigerator. Otherwise we’ll be towing my car and a brand new fridge behind us on our way to North Carolina.

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Casey and I are easily addicted to soap-opera-ish shows. We’ve watched the first season of “Switched At Birth” which has inspired us to learn ASL. Now we’re onto Army Wives. Which has seriously made me happy that I am not in the army, or an Army wife. What a hard life that must be. You know for the real army wives. Not the ones that are constantly having affairs and getting surprise-pregnant-five-seconds-after-their-husband-had-an-affair.

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Over the weekend the sun came up. That is big news around here, since it’s been raining for ….ever? Ish? Well, we made the most of it. When on two hikes and to the ocean. Like we may never get to go outside again. Good thing too, because this morning? Rain. Obviously.

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I had a new intake for an adult client today. I asked her if she had any concerns or fears about entering therapy. She said she was nervous about me, but I was probably okay because I tied my shoes and brushed my hair. I guess it really is the little things, isn’t it?

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We took a walk on Friday. Both phrases “you’re walking like your ass is on fire!” and “Did someone just step on a bird?” were uttered. Basically, we should have our own sitcom, right? Where’s MY reality show deal?!

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Hope everyone has a great week! Here’s a funny for you!

I thought a lot about what to post here today.

Like so many days, infertility and our miscarriage has stolen away the joy of days like Mother’s Day. I am not a mother. Those words are painful. If desperately wanting were enough, we would have dozens of children. But it isn’t enough. And to those of who in the same boat as me, wanting children, or having lost children my heart is with all of you today.

On the flip side of coin, I have a wonderful Mother of my own. And I know dozens of amazing mothers.

And I choose, today, to celebrate them. To do my very best not to be envious of them. To honor who they are and know that they have earned this day, this day to celebrate all that they do every day. The children they are growing, raising or have raised. The boo-boos they have kissed. The dreams they have made come true. The long nights worrying. The phone calls asking what temperature to cook the chicken at. The love that goes beyond anything that I can put into words.

Here’s to you.

Yesterday I had one of those days at work where I hated my job.

Not because of what my job is, but more because of what it can’t be.

I had to sit with a 7 and 10 year old as they were told that their Dad had to “go away” for awhile to rehab for being addicted to crack, and nearly killing himself two days ago from drug overdose.

I had to sit with a kid who drew a picture of shooting his Mom in the head, and try to figure out where this anger was coming from.

I had to sit with a kid who told me he believes his father does not love him.

And all I can do is sit with these kids.

I cannot make it better. I cannot make them unknow what they know.

I cannot take away their pain.

I cannot even going to tell them “it’s all going to be okay,” because in their world – it very well may never be okay.

And some days? The world seems so heavy, and it is so unfair that these kids..KIDS..are carrying around knowledge and pain that even most adults will never know.

And I hate it.

And although I know that it is important that I am there. That it is important that I do what I do… I hate it.

There is nothing a control freak fears more than being helpless.

And sometimes, sitting on the front lines, with these children – it is hard. And it gets to me.

Because I get to leave and live my life with people who I know love me, who make me laugh, and support me. Who tell me that I’m such a good person for doing what I do. And they? They go on to live what they know – fear, abuse, drugs, pain, loss - and it is forever altering who they will be.

And I really, really, really hate that.

*****

Initially I wanted to write this post to tell you all about a funny old woman who is stalking our house and named it Tululia.

She called us earlier this evening, having seen the ad for our house in the paper. Casey answered the phone, and began talking with her.

Her name is Evelyn. She is 66, and living in an assisted living facility somewhere nearby. She went on to say that she loves our house, wants to buy it and turn it into a refuge for abused animals and have them work with abused children. She is desperately trying to figure out a way to come see our house, to hitch a ride with a friend from Church. She wants to name our house “Tululia” and told us to lock it up tight tonight and keep it safe.

She is a woman with dreams, and a dynamic personality.

But she is a woman in a wheelchair, on disability, and she will not be able to buy our house.

But Casey? He talked to this woman twice tonight, for over a half hour. He laughed with her, and listened to her, and let her hold on to her dream.

When he hung up the phone, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said that he really hopes she has grandchildren that come to visit her wherever she is living, because she seems so lonely, and how terrible it is to just want to live your dream out when you just can’t physically do it.

And that is when this turned from a you-can’t-make-this-stuff-up funny story, to a story about a moment when I fell in love with my husband all over again.

Thank you, Evelyn.

(playing together with play-doh)

Kid: Hey, Mrs. G? What’s this play-doh thing supposed to do?

Me: I’m not sure. Why don’t you try it?

Kid: Hey! It looks like I’m making tire tracks in the play-doh!

Me: Wow, that’s great!

Kid: Hey, Mrs. G! Now it looks like I’m making stairs!

Me: That’s really cool!

Kid: I think it looks like it could be a hockey stick too, I could play play-doh hockey!

Me: You could, couldn’t you?

Kid: Hey Mrs. G?

Me: Yeah?

Kid: I can make this be whatever I want it to be, can’t I?

Me: Well, I suppose you can, can’t you?

Kid: Just like my life, right?

Me: Yes, exactly like your life.

–7 year old

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Have a great weekend, everyone!

Quote from the song “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. Listen here!

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Linking up with Bits of Bee!

I had fun playing with the app “Diptic” that allows you to quickly do comparisons, when I found this old picture of Casey on the computer. HOLY DIFFERENCE, Batman! I mean, the size of those glasses?

SO then of course I had to do me, because who couldn’t use a little inspiration/reminder of WHY the gym and eating turkey burgers is so important? This is why.

I get flyers for lots of trainings. Here’s one that I could use, along with lots o’ people I know

A peek into my office at the school I work in.

A bouquet of play-doh roses. Obviously I missed my calling as a play-doh artist. I also like to live out my dreams of being a cake decorator through play-doh.

Yoga! My yoga class is going pretty good. I am THISCLOSE from being able to stretch my legs out in a wide side stance and put my head on the floor without bending my legs. Who knew? Today I am going to a class taught by my friend Julie!

Wednesday I spent the day with these two cuties. We had a long walk and then a fight for who was going to be on my lap.

Us wishing Gryffindor a Happy Birthday. My Mom’s dog (who yes, is named after Harry Potter) turned 8 I believe yesterday! We sent him pictures of all of us.

Draw Something feature of the day? Via me! I know, I know, I’m surprised The Simpsons haven’t called me to do some drawing for them.

We had a bust of an open house yesterday. Even the balloons wanted to die. And we were forced to eat all of the chocolate chip cookies we baked. SOMEONE BUY OUR HOUSE PLEASE!

Oh hey. Stacey and I walked this yesterday! Weeeeee. I got a LOT of steps in on my FitBit yesterday!

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Okay, so it was kind of a boring week last week. Hopefully something more exciting will happen this week.

I will say that yesterday was also my Grammie’s birthday, so I will leave you with a picture of a woman that I wish everyday I had more time with.

“Wishing you were somehow here again. Wishing you were somehow near. Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here.” -Phantom of the Opera

As you know, the quotes that you read here every Friday are brilliant, witty, and knee-slapping funny. 90% of these quotes come from kids who have been neglected or sexually, physically, or emotionally abused by people who were supposed to be taking care of them. April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month. A month is not enough. Light must be constantly and continually shed upon the abuse of children. If you know of any abuse or suspected abuse call your local Child Protective Agency or the police. You can report anonymously if you feel more comfortable that way. It is not okay to turn your head. It is not okay for us to hide our heads in the sand. It is our job as adults to look out for those who cannot look out for themselves. Please, help make me unemployed!