Archives for April 2006

And no, it did not see me…Baby.

It was actually the garden shed. I was puttering around in there Friday night trying to make a path to the wheelbarrow. Opening the door I smelled something peculiar but didn’t really think about it. As I was tugging at a small metal folding table I noted something on the ground a few inches from my feet.

My thoughts were these: How did Ginger (a black stuffed dog Christopher was given while in the hospital) get here?…*tug at the table*actually that looks more like that stuffed cat Eden just got, I thought that was in her closet…*tug, tug*wait, it’s kind of big…*tug*

And then I saw the white feet and began to shriek and tug at the table compulsively. Finally I dropped it, clawed my way past Paul, who was standing right behind me and staggered out into the yard.

Paul, lacking the heeby jeebies from which I suffered, investigated. It was a dead cat. While he went to grab a shovel I calmed myself down and explained to the kids. A mournful little trio stood at attention while their father carried his burden into the woods. Not five minutes later we heard the loud cawing of a raven…and then another…and another. Soon it was a frenzy of cries just yards away. By some miracle the kids didn’t notice.

Only later that night did it occur to me we should have checked with some of the neighbors. We began to giggle, imagining – if we did find the owners – what we could possibly say.

Eden is sleeping.

Christopher and Lydia are in the living room ostensibly doing some science, but mostly talking. It is really pleasing to listen to them converse.

I didn’t know if that would ever be a possibility.

If they had needed to sign to communicate that would not have been less, just different.

Years ago I didn’t know if Christopher would ever hear me say “I love you.” or be able to say it himself.

He can. And he does.

I, who no one ever doubted would speak and often do, don’t say this enough:

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/04/981/

I’m not saying it is impossible…

I don’t want to complain…

AND

I am finding it challenging to lead and educate these people from my 4:00 a.m. wake up, under a cloudy sky.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/04/982/

During spring break I took the children to our local Children’s Museum. It was a nutty, nutty time to visit as everyone in the state was there. I knew it would be a zoo but I went nonetheless. I am glad this is written down as I plan to cite it if any of my colleagues ever question my willingness to sacrifice for and commitment to any and all of them.

The big event was a show performed by a self-proclaimed, “Bubbleologist – Half Scientist/Half Artist.” Children’s entertainment can be a dicey thing, because one is performing for children of a variety of ages while their parents watch too. It can be tricky, but a good and confident performer can strike the right balance. The problem is that a lot of performers are, at heart, needy and insecure people – not that I speak from personal experience – it’s something I’ve observed.

The bubble show began and he had us at soapy water and trapped air floating through space. Who doesn’t like bubbles? Before he went into his second demonstration he paused and said, “Smiling is good. Laughter is better. Clapping is the best.” And then he demonstrated clapping.

Now, I am no stranger to trying to get others to assuage one’s own insecurities, but I try to limit my victims to people to whom I am married, related to by blood or who read my blog. I guess I have standards. I wanted to say, look, can you just suspend your own neuroses for a few minutes? Pretend you are secure. Please. And yet I clapped.

There was a young man sitting in the front row. He looked to be about college age. He had glasses and a beard. He contented himself with smiling. The Bubbleologist was not content. After his second trick he paused, “That wasn’t worth a clap, huh? You’re sitting up here in the front row but you’re not going to clap.”

The guy stared straight ahead. It was a little strange that he had the best seat in the house and had no children with him. I personally would have – oh if I didn’t have kids I wouldn’t have been there – but say I had a passion for bubble artistry and was dying to see it all, I still would have sat off to the side to avoid blocking the view for all the children behind me. Again: standards.

I wondered if it was going to be some sort of angry clown incident. I have never actually seen an angry clown but they always seem to be so on television. Fortunately the Bubbleologist chose to ignore the not so effusive Bubble Fan and the show continued without a hitch.

Of course I told Paul about it and we had a good laugh.

Since then I have found myself about to say or ask something and stopped to preface it, “At the risk of ‘Smiling is good’ you…”

Sometimes I just remind him, “Clapping is the best.”

On the way to church, a couple of weeks ago, I happened to notice, for the first time, a pyramid shaped mausoleum in a cemetary we have passed at least 50 times. I asked Paul if he knew anything about it. It was his first citing too. I asked if we could return and check it out after church and he agreed.

As it turned out, we didn’t recognize the name and there was nothing explaining the choice of architecture.

A mournful cry rose from the backseat, “I miss Grandpa. It’s not right the way he died.” It was Christopher, who thought we were approaching my father’s grave. He wasn’t mourning the manner, so much as the fact of his grandfather’s .

Eden, who was five months old when my dad died, quickly joined in, “I miss Grandpa too. He souldn’t have died.”

“But Sweetheart,” Lydia explained, “Grandpa’s heart was very, very sick. He was in the hospital for a long, long time. The doctors and the nurses did everything they could, but they couldn’t save him.”

“Dey sould!” Eden spat.

Paul and I exchanged sad smiles and I blinked back stinging tears.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/04/984/