Gorillabuns

5 going on 15

 
 5 year ago on December 16th - you arrived with your fist rapidly pumping into the air. Announcing to world, "Moira is finally in the house and you people better work because I don't have time for your stupid foolish antics! "  Sadly for you, you were born into this crazy family. Hopefully, you'll survive and not need many years of counseling because of your lineage.

Though you suck your thumb and will require thousands of dollars of orthodontia, you are relatively an inexpensive  and rare Christmas gift. My sweet badora, you are a precious joy to our little clan and to everyone you meet.

You make me laugh with your astoundingly frank humor, you make me cry with your incredible empathy and caring heart and you make me wonder if there really is an altered realm of life floating out there  in never neverland with your constant, "I hear God, people! I really can't hear what he's saying because you are too loud but I hear him so please be quiet!" Repeatedly said quite a few times a week now. Yes, you are a very interesting catch.

I love the way you see things "differently" but yet so clearly - more clearly than this old jaded adult can hope to see at this moment in time. Everything you do, minus crapping your pants, is golden.

***note, the third wise-man gave his gift and had to leave to go to the bathroom. and yes, the middle bottom animal is a camel. I see it, don't you? and the baby Jesus? He's walking.*** 

I can readily admit, you are pretty damn easy to raise, minus the repeated chocolate milk requests daily. When asked what you want for your birthday, you simply ask for a ring-toss. May you continue to be so easy to please and never lose your child-like innocence. I so can't imagine you not being in our lives as you brighten our days both happy and sad, every time you walk into the room.

 

I hope and pray you and your sister will always be best-friends. Always watching each other backs and mowing down those who try to hurt either of you. I already see your ability to watch over your big sister and her precious froggy as your roar is vicious when it comes to protecting her, your "best friend."

 

I simply don't know what we did to deserve you but hope you will always know, you are loved and cherished. Also, I am putting the warning out now, I will kick anyone's ass who breaks your heart or hurts your feelings. You have my permission to fight back and tell them they are shit. Be sure to add, "do you know who I am? Don't you know I am a big deal?" Because you are and forever will be a "big deal" in our lives. I don't care what the Principal says.

Happy Birthday, my sweet little bunny!

  

 

i'm gonna have a blue christmas without you

As you very well know or maybe you don't, December 22nd is a day of infamy in our house. Well, there are many days of infamy floating around here but this is the one we are most hardily trying to avoid. In an effort to be total runners, we are going to celebrate/cry in our cocktails during this time while traveling out of town.

We argued, fought and finally compromised on a destination. Memphis, Tennessee. Don't ask why this place was chosen but be rest assured one of the only bright reasons we are going here is a) to see a family member and b) to visit Graceland. Surely you think Elvis and Christmas go hand-in-hand, right? RIGHT?!?!? Besides, I sure would love to add another velvet Elvis to my collection. Shut it! if you think they are tacky. Because they are and I love him/them.

Actually, the girls are quite excited as they have grown to love Elvis and think he's "handsome." The skinny Elvis that is as I can't bring myself to show them the bloated, old Elvis we all know and remember. I'll let them live in their little bubbles a little longer.

Speaking of dead, bloated people, do you know where you were when Elvis died? Were most of you even born then? I remember sitting at my babysitter's house, shoving a found copper penny between the gap of my two top front teeth. The huge gap was THAT HUGE! and seriously, how did I manage to procure this stolen penny and why was I playing with it without notice on her part? I guess this was the days before baby proofing since I was always getting into make-up, tampons, bras and markers during said "nap-time."

My babysitter came into the living room, crying that some dude named "Elvis" had died and her world was going to end as we knew it. In the many years I did time with her, I think this was the only time I ever saw her cry. Maybe one other time, when I left her residence for good. I wasn't sure the tears were of happiness or sadness. Based on the trouble I gave her, I would assume the former. Anyway, she startled me so much with her "active emotion" that the penny slipped out of my hand and down my throat. I felt it scrape every rung of my esophagus while I swallowed what seemed 100 times to make sure it would move quickly along.

I didn't tell anyone I swallowed the damn thing for at least 15 years later especially my mother as she freaked the hell out when she did find out.

So, how's that for a memory? and what does the memory have to do with Christmas and lost anniversaries? I'm not sure. I think this is one of the few times I can not tie up the end of a long string of thoughts with a shiny little bow. Mainly because this holiday season deserves only brown paper bags and used tissue boxes as holiday wrap.

celebrations

I/we survived the first minor holiday of many to come. Next week, we will be celebrating Moira's birthday in a half-assed fashion. Next, we will be celebrating what would have been our son's first birthday in two weeks in a no-assed fashion and then onto Christmas and all the details and emotions that this ball of fun entails. 

Good times. Only good times full steam ahead.

I guess I should insert <funny and witty banter here> instead of relaying the bullshit emotions I feel or the shape of things to come so I'll go with the prior thought instead of the sad reality of life in these here parts because quite honestly, I'm bored of sight of my own words.

I have spent most of my time  these days instead of posting, trying to be a good mother by setting up play-dates and volunteering at school. You know, living the glamorous life.

Last Friday, I was cornered by my oldest's teacher in a dead-assed panic. Her substitute teacher for the morning had canceled due to sickness and she needed help, like stat! As I contemplated subbing for a class of 26 1st graders and their ability to smell fear reeking from my pores and taking advantage of this fact and weighing the great need to go and purchase toilet paper for our household, I succumbed to her pleadings and saved the day. or in the words of one of the kids, made their day "the worst day ever!"

Now, remember, my kids go to a Catholic school......

Funny enough, Celia thought it was another day in the neighborhood and was nonplussed as I screamed, shamed and had a meltdown in front of the class. Subsequently, I had many a teacher laughing at my time served. The death toll? One kid sent to the Principal's office for peeing all over the bathroom floor while showing his death defying pee tricks to his brood, pulled "reward cards" for bad behavior, yanked a marble out of the "party" jar for their unruliness, had one kid cry as another told on him for screaming "shut up!" Sadly, I came to his defense (because he was one of the only kids who didn't speak, including my little Angel - Yes, I AM biased) by berating the kid/class that 1) "I abhor tattle-tellers," 2) "his frustration was a symptom of the whole class' poor attitude" 3) told the kids "I knew most of their parents and felt their parents would be incredibly embarrassed if they knew how they acted for their teacher and a sub." 

Yep, as you can guess, all my verbiage was lost on them. Reverse Jedi-mind tricks didn't really work on them.

I may or may not have told one kid "to quit freaking the hell out" because his paper wasn't printed double-sided, may or may not have texted a friend with an S.O.S. code of "FUCK, FUCK!"which happened to be voice delivered in a creepy electronic voice to her home recorder for her two-year-old to hear and dance to, texted the teacher a scathing, "thanks a lot for the math worksheet from Hell!", asked the other 1st grade teacher, "why aren't you an alcoholic after teaching these kids every day? or are you and I just don't know it?", exclaimed "well, shit people!"over said math worksheet when two kids started crying over being totally and completely frustrated (yes, I cried along with them), let the prisoners draw for hours on end because I didn't know shit about the stupid bible lesson I was supposed to be teaching, tried somewhat successfully to not snoop in the teacher's desk and computer while sitting on my hands to not check my Facebook status, read two books to the class in funny, entertaining voices while realizing, Man! I totally have a future in audio books for children and maybe, just maybe, I should be reading more to my own kids, exclaimed to the secretary in the school's office while signing out for penance served, "I almost kicked some asses today!"  

Basically, I expect to be receiving copious amounts of counseling bills for pain and suffering in the not-so-distant future.

timeline

One of the most repeated statements I've heard since Easter has been, "You grieve on your own time. Don't let anyone make you do anything that you don't want to do or deal with things you are not ready to deal with."

If only one could live in this magical dream world of screwing what others thought, let life stand-still at her home and mundanely walk around and skate by the items of remembrance. The last vestiges of a life cut too short.

These past seven months have proven to be a testament of how four people can grieve so differently. Some hide their heads like a turtle in it's unclean shell, others tell everyone and anyone all the information and more - most skewed and incorrect because they are too young to know any differently or able to assimilate the vast jagged shrapnel left behind. Others quickly dart in and out of conversation to let you know they are thinking about it all but then quickly hide for fear of a "sad" reaction they can't handle. Some regress to pooping in their pants, others regress to peeing in their pants. And I'm not just talking about children here..... Procrastination turns into fights, fights turn into standstills, standstills turn into anger. Anger over everything.

I wrote on Facebook the other day "you would be pleased to know, Easter decorations have been discarded." Unwillingly discarded.

Someone later said, "aren't you happy your house is clean?"

In a very short, succinct word: No.

Hiding behind memories and clutter has guaranteed people won't come over and if they do, maybe, just maybe, I've left this shit around to remind others that I'm not okay. I'm sad. I'm mad! Why don't you people remember him? Why the fuck are you over here in the first place? Cleaning up my fucking house doesn't bring me back my child. It only reminds me more that he's gone because the last moments I had with him are gone. Well, minus the baby swing at the foot of our bed. The dead flowers are gone. The car seat carrier has been donated. The box full of prayer cards and condolences are shoved underneath our bed. Replacing it all with a dead, haphazard Thanksgiving centerpiece.

In truth, I have many things to be thankful for including; loving, healthy, for the most part, happy children and a husband who only hates me 1/3 of the time. Pretty good percentages if you think about it compared to most.

I'm writing this statement so maybe I'll feel it: "I'm going to "try" to be happy, healthy and rejoiceful this Thanksgiving week."

I said I'd try and I'm not promising anything. Also, I'll be having a little heave-ho, help with my best friend, Xanax and his little friend, Vodka.   

May you not need any of these crutches to celebrate with you and yours and if you do, makes sure you don't end up in prison after it's all said and done. Because that would be so very sad and well, you would be far removed from all your vices for quite awhile.

Hey, you!

Anyone want the Gorillabuns household to come and spend Thanksgiving with YOU and YOURS? We'll bring the wine/booze if you can handle us since we aren't really up to tradition this year. Come to think of it, who wants us to visit during Christmas? This is REALLY the time when we are going to be a lively bunch. If anything, we'll make great fodder for your subsequent conversations with friends and foe.

"Whew! We thought we were a fucked up mess but THOSE people take the proverbial cake!"