Suitcase Full of Memories

When I moved cross country I left most of my belongings in storage. I'd planed to return in six months. It has been SEVEN years. My belongings were moved, given away, and sold. I went through the entire grieving process over the years and come to accept that I would probably never see any of it again. Low and behold, a suitcase worth of my things were saved and delivered to me.

I thought I'd be elated to see any relics of my past life, but honestly I felt fear. I put off taking possession of it for weeks. I'm not sure, looking back, if I could quantify the source of all my anxiety. Maybe it was because I'd given it all up for lost. It was unsettling to think of items I let go of to suddenly be mine again. Perhaps, I knew that whatever was in the suitcase would bring my past flooding back.

Not that the past is bad, but it's a bit like exhuming a body. There is far too much emotion so fear wrestles the weaker feelings to the mat and becomes all you can recognize. I honestly, don't know what was left to feel after all the years and tears. I left an apartment worth of stuff and could only think of two things I wanted back: My Rainbow Brite Doll (what was I thinking?!?) and my red shoes. All the books, movies, and kitchenware that I bemoaned losing, had shifted down the priority list over time. It's just stuff.

In one of my last conversations about the stuff I left behind I said "throw it all out." I didn't want that stuff to exist anymore. I was tired of having a piece of me somewhere else. I was angry that my decision years ago meant stress for someone else now. I don't want to remember a time I can't go back to. I'm afraid to waste time regretting things I can't change. I'm afraid of getting emotional about what isn't in the suitcase.

I took possession of the suitcase, my sister so graciously packed and delivered to me, this holiday season. I thanked her and looked through it. My doll was rescued and a ton of journals and scrapbooks. These things from my past were documentation of my past stretching all the way back to went I left for college. Strange. I felt numb looking through everything and then I brought the suitcase home.

It remains in the hallway untouched. Part of me feels like there is no room for all that ME in this house. Where do I physically put it? Do I have any right to have these momentos of my life before Mike and the kids here? What is ok here? My before life and my current reality always had boundaries before now...

I must reconcile the before me with me now. I must unpack the suitcase. Right? Why is it so hard?

Stranded

From time to time, I have been truly stranded. I have been stuck in a bed, a chair, in a room or some other place that I don't want to be, with no way to leave. I have woken up unable to to climb out of my bed. I have found myself on the couch unable to reach my crutches. I've had a child take off in my wheelchair and leave me stuck. I have crawled like a baby across rooms and been carried. It is a vulnerable thing to be stranded. Somehow, I never feel relaxed like a cartoon man in tattered clothes sunning himself on an island beach waiting for rescue. It is pure frustration to be stranded, stuck and stunted. It is the battle against my flawed body to accomplish my goals at it's extreme low.

I can forget where I put my crutches the same way someone else might misplace their phone or keys. Nothing like forgetting your legs, right? I expect on my worst of days to be besieged by frustration and I plan accordingly. The trouble is that sometimes it's a good day physically and something completely out of my control strands me. Those days knock the wind out of me.

It is hardest when an overly physical task sprung on me: a wet bed in middle of the night, a broken pipe under the sink or any of those day to day emergencies that happen to everyone. Things that wear on my joints and test the limits of my fused spine. I take them in stride, but they always cost me. I balance things as much as I can, because that's what Moms do.

I have a friend who left her wheelchair in the driveway when she transferred into the car and didn't realized she didn't have it in the car until she was pulling into a parking space at her destination. Stranded. Another disabled mom friend of mine recently went shopping prior to a snow storm and couldn't find an electric cart that functioned. Not one electric cart with a charge in the whole store and no one who cared. Stranded.

I had a similar experience recently with a happier resolution. I went to Target bright and early, grabbed a electric cart and went on my way. I picked up everything on my lengthy list working my way to the back of the store. It was there, of course that the battery died. There I was perched on a paperweight, in the back of this sprawling store. I was mildly irritated until I turned around and saw another woman in the same situation, a handful of aisles behind me. She was older and heavier than me, but she had a shopping companion. I'd say the competition for who was worse off was a draw. My basket was ridiculously full and I didn't want to abandon my haul to find help. I sat there scanning the aisles and debating whether to just walk out. I couldn't bear the thought of being stuck or giving up after my trip was all but done.

Finally, I saw someone coming and felt completely relieved- for about two seconds. He passed me on his way to rescue the other lady. He swapped her bum cart for a new one. I waved him over, now visibly upset, and he explained that he just gave her the last charged chart in the store. I looked from my cart to him in dismay, but before I could embarrass myself with any further emotional display he offered to fetch a cart. He said he would load and push it for me. While he was gone the rescued lady's second cart ran out of steam too! It was almost so ridiculous it was funny. That poor woman.

My hero followed through, cheerfully getting quite the cardio-workout placing all my stuff in a regular cart. He walked me through my last few items and on to the checkout line. He unloaded everything on to the belt and disappeared to save the other victim of the-day-all-the-batteries-died. The managers were appalled by the situation and my new friend even came back to help me get everything in the car.

I've been lucky a few times and not so lucky many more times. I think everyone has those moments, but they are more routine when you have mobility issues. I find being prepared: shopping early so the carts are still plugged in from the night before, not patronizing stores that are too hard to manage, stocking up on things when I'm out so that if I can't get out later we have them, being very vocal with management when there's an issue in hopes it won't happen again...and so on. Somethings are just beyond our control even if we do everything we can to prepare there will always be surprises. "Pick, yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again..."

And Just Like That, The Tables Have Turned...

We built Riley's first ever big Lego set and by we, I mean mostly her. It's a little camper with a bike trailer that comes with a picnic table and grill. Totally adorable. Once it was done, Riley added every Lego mini figure and mega block Barbie figure she owns to this little party by piling them in the camper. Then, I suggest she ask Isaac to borrow one of his boy figures. I fully expected her to trot back to the living room with a ninja or a ghost...Nope.

She returns with mommy and baby dinosaurs! Now it's a scene from Jurassic Park! Dinosaurs pacing outside a camper full of people.

Just like that the dinos had been tamed and the girls were taking turns riding them!

I could not stop laughing! Talk about lemonade from lemons! Life lessons from a 4yr olds Lego imaginings.

If You Give a Mom Some Coffee

If you're unfamiliar with If You Give A Mouse A Cookie it's a wonderful children's book about how granting the Mouse's wish will lead to a string of other demands leading back to the one that started them all.

Here's my version:

If You Give A Mom A Coffee

by: Katie Calahan

If you give a Mom some coffee she's going to want to sit down

So, she'll have to clear the toys off the couch.

If she clears the toys off the couch, she'll need to put them away.

When she puts them away, she'll notice dirty clothes on the kids' bedroom floor

She'll need to put those in the hamper

If she puts the clothes in the hamper she will notice how full it is.

So, she'll start a load of wash.

If she starts a load of wash she'll check the dryer and notice some clean towels

She'll fold the towels and put them in the linen closet.

While she's in the linen closet the air vent above her will give her a chill

That's when she'll remember her coffee

She will go to the kitchen to re-heat her now cold coffee.

While it's reheating she'll notice crumbs on the counter and she'll need to wipe it down.

When she rinses the crumbs off the sponge she'll notice the breakfast dishes.

She'll be washing the dishes when she hears the washer stop.

She'll need to move the clothes to the dryer and put a new load in the wash.

When she finishes moving the laundry, the dog will need to go out.

While taking the dog out, she will notice the deep freezer and start planning dinner.

She will go back to the kitchen to check the fridge for dinner ingredients.

While she's in the kitchen she'll remember her coffee again and reheat it

Once it's warm she'll take a sip and someone will ask "What's for lunch?".

Closer Together, Farther Apart

Things have changed so much between my childhood and raising my children. It's completely confusing. Our social interactions are nothing like they once were. The internet brought so much convenience to our lives, but it altered the way relationships are conducted on some levels. For good and bad. I reconnected with my husband via cyberspace. On the other hand I've looked in on some ghosts from past I should not have. I've been bullied and hurt by strangers I have never met. I've formed support systems that have gotten me through some dark days. The passiveness and anonymity are hard to resist sometimes. I've derailed a bit, but attention span is part of it too. Everything interpersonal is different. Especially, the delivery of bad news.

I remember an Outer Limits episode more eloquently stating that technology allows us to get farther away from one another. We physically move apart because we can rely on technology to keep us "connected". It's not the same as physically being near one another at all. I would have certainly lost touch with almost everyone I went to high school with without social media. The trade off is that their lives are reduced to an infrequent collection of far away bits of information and images. Will I ever choose to pick up the phone and call them and actually hear their voice when I can read their page instead? In most cases, no.

All I could think as I stared at the horrible news, actual. horrible. news. in my news feed was how alone I was with it. Someone who I remembered for his kindness had suffered a tragedy that made front page news across the country. I wept for him, but other than sharing the donations page I couldn't do anything. Someone I hadn't seen in years had been through something awful. Truly, horrifying.

I turned to Mike for someone to talk to and realized how strange it all was. Someone I knew who hasn't been part of my day to day life for years, that you've never met, has had something horrible happen. What could he say? When I was younger you would get a phone call. The caller would ask you to sit down and they would give you the bad news. At which point you would discuss what happened with the messenger and begin to process the information. Even better they'd tell you in person not just offering an empathetic ear, but a hug or hand to hold.

Now we are connected enough to hear and share the news sometimes, but not to connected enough to discuss it with someone else who would understand. I felt the same way each time one of my college professors passed away. There was all this sadness and no one to share my grief with or even be nostalgic with. Maybe it would be worse not to know at all. Maybe it would be better in some cases? Connected and disconnected all at the same time. Such a strange way to live.

Muscle Memory

One small movement of the wrist, one tiny swoosh and I was overcome with unwelcome memory fragments. I knew rationally that this was not the same. Didn't I? Yes, I understood that this was an inconvenience and a completely other context. By the third failed attempt to swipe my card, my emotions were raw and way too near the surface. I inhaled sharply and the nice man set my things aside. He didn't seem angry or judgmental at all, but I was feeling old overpowering emotions and could no longer connect my thoughts.

Thank God, I was not alone. My sister ushered me to a chair and I shoved my phone and the offending card at her. I was very aware the semi-numb feeling was keeping the tears at bay. "It’s not the same." The same as what? The frustrating answer from the curt customer service representative meant more work, phone calls and time. I started making the calls just to feel like I was doing something.

I snapped out of my fog when I heard my sister asking the cashier for my things that had been set aside. I had to make a decision right then. I forced a weak smile and paid for the items. It seemed strange to be acting as if nothing had happened. I may have even apologized to the cashier although neither of us had done anything wrong. Strange.

The sunlight hit my eyes with an uncomfortable intensity when we exited and I had the feeling we had been in that store for days. I was again grateful not to be alone. No telling if I could have made the short journey home with my head reeling this way. Could I let it go, I wondered? Not without knowing exactly what "it" was. What the hell was the matter with me?

My seat belt clicked far too loudly and the car was taking too long to move. It was no big deal, right? So, I got excited and shopped for things I wouldn't have and the silly gift card didn't work. So, it was embarrassing. Everything will be fine I’ll get the money back. At least I had the money in my bank account….Oh! Oh.

Now I knew. All at once, I was standing at the checkout counter two years ago trying to buy a frozen pizza for the kids to eat before trick or treating. My card isn't working. I don’t have enough in the account. I’m humiliated. I have no idea what we will eat tonight. I have to put back the pizza. I have to borrow a few bucks later (which I pay back in 48hrs) to buy another pizza at a different store. In the years since I have never gone back in there.

That was the end of a dark time. It was the last time that ever happened. I vowed that day, never to let it happen again. I found a way and I tried to forget, until today. Today made me remember. Today brought back that moment in blinding clarity and all those feelings of frustration, pain and shame. We fought so hard and survived so much worse than that, but that was the day I knew I had to do more. Stupid, horrible memories of counting change to buy diapers and not having enough were now pushing on the edges of my brain.

That’s over now, I tell myself. I've started to cry. "It just all came back." I explain now completely annoyed with myself. I take a few deep breaths and compose myself before climbing out of the car. Reality. I tell myself to snap out of it. It’s all over I keep repeating. As I pass my dining room table I glance over at and the stack medical bills, that outnumbered the Christmas cards this past month, and I feel sick. It could be that way again.

I give myself a moment to wallow in the fear, but only a moment. I sweep the leaning tower of bills out of sight and take a deep breath. I work hard to keep it from happening again. Time to hug my kids and be damn grateful for where I am now.

Welcoming the New Year

Baby Doll Chechups and Pizza

Jam Session!

Party Jammies & Hair Chalk

Home Made Noise Makers