About Whatever, Family
1 Comment Chocolate Milk Stain
I once saw a person eat a tomato like it was an apple. There’s nothing wrong with that. I am sure that if you’re a tomato person (and I am NOT), it can be an enjoyable experience. But if you have ever seen a tomato – and I am sure you have – and if you have ever tried to slice a tomato with a dull knife, you will undoubtedly know that it can be a messy thing. The same can be said when someone bites into one. The person that I witnessed engorging themselves in tomato bliss, although enjoying themselves, fell victim to the tomato. Most if it ended up on their shirt instead of inside their mouth. It was a mess. The only thing worse than watching this person obliterate the tomato all over their shirt was watching a lady in the car next to me at a stop light pick her nose and then eat her new found treasure. True story. But that’s another blog post. So why even mention this? Well, I always thought that I wouldn’t ever want to be such a slob. I mean, I am no beauty queen. I am about as graceful as an ox on a frozen lake. But I wouldn’t want to prance around town with a tomato stain on my shirt either.Then I became a mom.I don’t know exactly when it happened for the first time. But I started to notice that I had a drinking problem shortly after the birth of my daughter. No. My vice isn’t alcohol. I just can’t for the life of me take a drink of water, milk, soda – anything without it dribbling out the corner of my mouth and dripping off my chin. Inevitably if I eat spaghetti, for example, I will leave the dinner table with a new design on my shirt – polkadots made of sauce. Or pizza? I may find an olive, dried up and shriveled and STUCK to my shirt an hour later. My personal favorite is popcorn….I keep a treasure trove of that in my bra. My mom once told me that it was what happens when you become a mom. It almost sounded like a badge of honor that I should be proud to wear. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE being a mom. I just don’t like looking like I am 4 months old and can’t hold my rice cereal. My mom has accepted that this just comes with the territory. In fact, it doesn’t even register with her that a Cheerio from 3 days ago can be a snack for later on today. What’s so wrong with that?So, anyway, what’s the point? I was just thinking about it as I was washing off the chocolate milk that I dribbled down my shirt a few minutes ago. I was thinking about how different my life has become. I’m not complaining…well, not really. Some parts of my life really suck. Actually, ONE thing really sucks. My husband is dead. It is a reality that I live with daily. What’s weird is that sometimes I forget that part of it. I just get so busy and although that’s really great to be busy, it’s a huge depression of my mood when I realize, “Whoa! Mike is DEAD! When did THAT happen?” But I digress….this isn’t supposed to be some wo is me post. It was only spilled chocolate milk, for Heaven’s sake. I shouldn’t cry over it (ha ha). I never really understood what it meant to be one of those frazzled – do everything Moms. At one time, I had a partner. He and I shared lots of the responsibilities – mainly getting Michaela to school, picking her up, etc. For years I would get up in the morning, get dressed and go to work. I’d work the 8-5 job and come home. Some nights Mike was there cooking dinner when I got there. Other nights when it was his turn to work, I would pick up Michaela from my Mom’s and do the nightly ritual of dinner and put the kid to bed. It was a ritual. It was the same every day. It was comfort.Now, it’s different. Now there is a sense of urgency in my day. Now there is a nagging need to make sure that I do it all. Sure I am bringing it all on myself. Gimme a break. I’ve never been through this before. I have heard people talk about how humbling it is to give service. Try letting some one render you a service. Those chocolate milk stains won’t seem so bad…
The realtor called today. The buyers have finally accepted the terms of the sale and now all I have to do is wait. They had hit my last nerve the other day with all of their demands and then had the nerve to want me to lower the price even more. I was about to throw in the towel and keep the house. It just seemed like it was worth more to me than them. In many ways it feels like a chore to go there. It’s a good 20 minute drive to get there. But then once I am there, it’s home. I lived there with my husband and child for 4 years. When I stand in my living room, I would think that I would feel immense sadness because that is where Mike drew is last breath. But, I don’t. Nothing about the house creeps me out. If anything, I feel closer to him there. And now with the sale of the house appearing to actually happen, it’s the so called proverbial start of the next chapter. I feel like I am closing the book, though. I mean, if my life before all of this was Chapter 1, that is one heck of a long chapter.We go through periods in our lives that see changes. We have our birth. Our adolescence. Our teenage years. Our 20s. Marriage. Children. And I would think that if you stick on that same course, you’re within the same book. But when you face the death of a spouse, all of a sudden your whole outlook changes. Who are you as an individual? Are your goals the same? Do you want the same things as you did before he died? What do you want to be? What is your path? Nah…this certainly doesn’t feel like a new chapter to me. This definitely feels like a new book. My old book will end with the sale of my house, I think. It’s my last material connection to Mike.Of course, he’ll always be with me. Every time I look at Michaela, he’ll be there looking back at me. Every time she bites her nails I will be cursing him through clinched teeth because that was one of his bad habits that drove me crazy. She looks just like him doing the same thing and what’s ironic is that she didn’t get the habit until after he died. *sigh*To some degree, the idea of starting new is a little exciting. There are a lot of possibilities. But on the other hand, it’s scary. I look at that picture at the top of this post and I remember that moment so well. And I end up missing him so much. And it makes me want to keep that old dusty book open so I can re-read some of those chapters. But you can’t go back…Here’s to looking forward.