tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75144080549813441072024-03-13T23:53:33.788-05:00My Incoherent MusingsI was born and raised in Wisconsin but currently call the Twin Cities metro home. My life of domestic bliss includes my Norwegian husband, five year-old son, three year-old daughter and two sweet golden retrievers. I am looking to return to the world of social services upon the recent attainment of my Bachelor of Arts degree. I hope this blog will allow me an outlet to write, contemplate, and ruminate about the life of a mom, wife, sister, friend, student, dog-lover, and Wisconsin sports fan.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-51774396763303027562011-09-15T00:10:00.005-05:002011-09-15T00:17:05.280-05:00I am reminded of this poem as I reflect upon new beginnings.The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost<br /> <br />TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, <br />And sorry I could not travel both <br />And be one traveler, long I stood <br />And looked down one as far as I could <br />To where it bent in the undergrowth; <br /> <br />Then took the other, as just as fair, <br />And having perhaps the better claim, <br />Because it was grassy and wanted wear; <br />Though as for that the passing there <br />Had worn them really about the same, <br /> <br />And both that morning equally lay <br />In leaves no step had trodden black. <br />Oh, I kept the first for another day! <br />Yet knowing how way leads on to way, <br />I doubted if I should ever come back. <br /> <br />I shall be telling this with a sigh <br />Somewhere ages and ages hence: <br />Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— <br />I took the one less traveled by, <br />And that has made all the difference.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-69831113576817545842009-11-14T00:36:00.000-06:002009-11-14T00:37:22.417-06:00There are the YearsThese are the Years<br /><br />These are the years, the gentle years,<br />the soft and sentimental years<br />when wee little fingers<br />reach and touch <br />and little eyes gaze <br />with wonder and trust,<br />when you love so tenderly <br />and so so much,<br />these are the gentle years.<br />These are the years, the rainbow years, <br />the quiet, walk-on-tiptoes years, <br />the years of laughter <br />and smiles and sighs <br />when both of you watch <br />with misty eyes <br />the tiny bed <br />where a cherub lies,<br />these are the rainbow years.<br />These are the years, the tender years, <br />the blissful, sweet-surrender years, <br />when your little treasure <br />from above <br />is the soul and purpose <br />and center of <br />your plans and dreams <br />and dearest love, <br />these are the tender years.<br />- Barbara BurrowJeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-12992035451077040822009-11-10T23:03:00.005-06:002009-11-10T23:09:04.409-06:00November Spawned a Monster: An Ode to the Month of B's Birth ;)November Spawned a Monster -Morrissey<br /><br />Sleep on and dream of love <br />Because it's the closest you will <br />Get to love <br />Poor twisted child <br />So ugly, so ugly <br />The poor twisted child <br />Oh hug me, oh hug me <br />One November <br />Spawned a monster <br />In the shape of this child <br />Who later cried : <br /><br />"But Jesus made me, so <br />Jesus save me from <br />pity, sympathy <br />And people discussing me<br />A frame of useless limbs <br />What can make good of<br />the bad that's been done?"<br /><br />And if the lights were out <br />Could you even bear <br />To kiss her full on the mouth <br />(Or anywhere?) ohh..no<br /><br />Poor twisted child <br />So ugly, so ugly <br />Poor twisted child <br />Oh hug me, oh hug me <br />One November <br />Spawned a monster <br />In the shape of this child <br />Who must remain <br />A hostage to kindness <br />And the wheels underneath her <br />A hostage to the kindness <br />And the wheels underneath her <br />A symbol of where mad, mad lovers <br />Must pause and draw the line. <br /><br />So sleep and dream of love <br />Cause it's the closest <br />You will get to love ohh<br />Love<br />That November <br />Is a time <br />Which I must <br />Put out of my mind <br /><br />Oh, one fine day <br />Let it be soon <br />She won't be rich or beautiful <br />But she'll be walking your streets <br />In the clothes that she went out <br />And chose for herselfJeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-67197248142242254732009-11-08T21:26:00.005-06:002009-11-08T21:38:53.087-06:00Coincidence or Craziness?On the 4th of October, Malachy passed away.<br />On the 4th of November, Bernard broke his fifth metatarsal of his left foot.<br />It is with great anticipation that I await the 4th of December.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-83975893383972284312009-11-08T21:19:00.003-06:002009-11-08T21:35:49.365-06:00I Shall Close My EyesI am really missing my puppy dog right now. It still seems so quiet without him, especially in the tranquility of the night. I shall close my eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he will once again be in my arms...if only in my mind.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-65487332846200278812009-11-01T18:17:00.004-06:002009-11-01T18:31:33.962-06:00Happy Birthday!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/Su4nL6KDqXI/AAAAAAAAAEU/frnK3KnMHfk/s1600-h/Abicht+Family+Photo"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/Su4nL6KDqXI/AAAAAAAAAEU/frnK3KnMHfk/s320/Abicht+Family+Photo" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399296088807287154" /></a><br />Happy Birthday Mom!Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-34224697613581409482009-10-29T21:24:00.005-05:002009-10-29T22:46:32.779-05:00A Day's ConcernsToday rated a bit more difficult on the scale. I drove to Saint Paul to chat with Y this morning. I am able talk with her with some degree of comfort, but still feel a bit uneasy. After all, she is not M. The aftermath is oftentimes more difficult as the topics of discussion seem to *soak in* following our time. I felt increasing sadness and despair as the day went on. The anxiety was not to be mitigated, so it seems.<br /><br />I have been trying desperately to incorporate a *pick-u/clean-up* routine with the kids. My attempts have thus far been unsuccessful. Eamon resists and resists and often makes excuses as to why he is unable to pick up his toys at that particular moment in time. The more toys that carpet the floor, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he becomes. Well, frankly, his mother becomes frustrated and overwhelmed, too. We have such limited space in this house so toys, clothes, papers, bills, books etc, strewn about take up considerable real estate. I think this feeling of having so much clutter and *stuff* will be less of a factor if when ever move. However, we live here now and we need to make the most of the space we have. I see this as putting items away after use and keeping up with the clutter. I am the only one that appears to suffer from anxiety related to the mess, clutter, and lack of space. I want some order. I want cleanliness. I am tired of the chaos. It is driving me crazy!!!<br /><br />I do not know what to do with Eamon. Yeterday, he told me I was a "bad mommy." Maybe I am, as I am so incredibly frustrated with him at this point. He is so oppositional, so deviant, so insolent at times. He will sometimes refuse to answer my questions. He will yell at me. He will hit me. He will tell benign lies, but lies, nonetheless. He will refuse my requests. At times, he will snuggle with me but usually as a means to an end. He thinks that if he is *nice* to me, then I will allow him extra Wii time. I wonder how I can be firm and strong with him but also loving and nurturing. I understand that he is exploring much that is new...new school, new friends, new schedule, new expectations, new responsibilities. I am trying to be patient and understanding. Instead I feel worn out at times and fixated on the clock. How long until bedtime? How many hours? How many minutes? When will he be asleep? When will I have a chance to decompress and evaluate. When will I have a chance to cry. Alone. I feel as if I am running on reserve fuel. I am getting a bit worn out. I need to figure out how to renew and strengthen myself.<br /><br />My brother's car was broken into this morning, sometime between 12:00 AM and 6:00 AM. The would be burglars smashed the window and appeared to rifle through the car. They also worked to remove the car stereo, albeit unsuccessfully. The bright side of this is the fact that the car, itself, was not stolen. It is in very good condition for it's age but if stolen, I worry that my brother would not receive much in terms of insurance proceeds, not to mention his need for reliable transportation to work. Once again, this incident causes me increased worry about his neighborhood. He reported that a neighbor had their car stolen, right in front of that neighbor's property. Blue graffitti is displayed on the tall wooden fence surrounding my brother's home. The police are contacted, the incident reported, and occasionally, the paint scrubbed off...well somewhat. Sooner or later, there will be fresh, blue graffiti and the process repeats itself. My brother has reported that he and his housemates are unable to order pizza or Chinese food for delivery. Local businesses have opted out of this option as to eliminate the potential for robbery or assault upon delivery staff. And, the coup de grace, was an incident my brother had purposefully neglected to mention until it was inadvertently mentioned by his friend, N. Apparently, a burglar broke into the house, grabbed the large blanket off of the sofa, and placed thousands of dollars of DVD's on the blanket, only to use said blanket to wrap up the contents, and head back out the window. My brother and his roommate were avid and serious collectors of expansive DVD collections. All gone now. More importantly, my brother was in the house at the time of the robbery. He was in his room! He cannot be safe and sound inside his own place of residence??? Okay, this robbery incident happened a year ago or so. The prostitutes who took up temporarily residence in front of his house (he lives on a corner) were also a concern, more of a burden. The misogynist pigs who solicited them were of concern as well. Oh wait, did I forget to mention this lovely door prize of living in his neighborhood? I worry about him. I worry that he comes home to a parking spot in the back of his house that is somewhat secluded and not particularly well lit. I worry that he cannot be safe in his own home. All of the locks on the doors mean nothing when the window can be broken and used as a point of entry. I wish he did not live there. I wish he could live somewhere that *might* be safer and with a bit less worry. I know he enjoys his roommates and the rent is reasonable. I am worried about his safety.<br /><br />The day finished with a baby that seemed a bit more sensitive...a bit more clingy. Emma looked tired, with a purplish coloring to her eyelids, which means she is tired or sick or both. She spiked a fever which was quickly brought down by Ibuprofen. as the medication wore off, the fever made a return appearance. I asked Emma is her head hurt to which she replied, "no." She was sniffling a bit and laying her head on the couch pillow. She is now sleeping. I hope she awakes feeling much better. I am a bit anxious, as I always am when my babies are ill. I worry what is wrong with them and how poorly they feel. I feel so sad when my babies are sick and I want so much to help them get well. All of the H1N1 fury has caused me additional worry. She could not be vaccinated with the H1N1 vaccine mist until 28 says post the administration of the seasonal flu mist. I will pray that she will soon feel better. My sweet baby. I do feel bad that she will most likely miss tomorrow's class Halloween party as she was looking forward to wearing her costume to school.<br /><br />Madeline lies near me as I sit on the couch, imac in lap. I will bring this long post to a close and take the opportunity to have some snuggle time with my cute Liney. I am fortunate to have such a good pup to love, except for her tendency to have offensive gastro-intestinal issues. Though, it is the quiet of the night when the longing intensifies for my sweet Malachy. I continue to work through his passing. He was my sweet, sweet boy. So gentle, So kind, So soothing. I close my eyes and picture myself rubbing him behind the ears and back. Well, those large, soft, warm tears are intensifying. I go to hug my Madeline,Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-1333844788290908682009-10-29T17:19:00.000-05:002009-10-29T17:21:42.254-05:00EnoughI think 39 years is much too long.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-85781722160929425732009-10-27T22:22:00.005-05:002009-10-27T23:20:08.070-05:00In The Quiet of The NightOctober is nearing it's end. In some respects, the month has gone by quite fast. Though, at times, it seems as if October might never end. <br /><br />Today, I determined that I really needed to get outside, with the hope that the riding mower would not fail me. I *just* mowed and bagged a plethora of lawn bags, heavy and laden with compacted leaves. The lawn was again carpeted and so I began to get the tractor out and with the objective of filling (at least) ten to fifteen bags. The beautiful, sunny days are waning, desperately holding on for another breath. As I mowed, I waved to the neighbors, pleased that I was wearing my sandals, soon to be forced into hibernation. When I got to the the back forty, I began to lament Malachy's absence. I really enjoyed watching him run around the yard with abandon. He would watch me as I mowed and I would check at which point he was in his roaming of the yard. He bounded about, untethered, and free to run and explore with abandon. I would call him and he would wag his tail and smile, walking toward me as I made another loop. I realized today how much I enjoyed watching him play in the yard while I was mowing, gardening, or hanging out with the kiddos. Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted and thus, this in the reason why I mowed over the large tree trunk in the front yard after a loop in the back. (I think we need a new blade as the mower began to sputter, eventually making the most unpleasant grinding sound). Nevertheless, this mundane fall task again reminded me of the *readjusted normalcy.* I delighted in Mal's company while I worked outside. I delighted even more in watching him be so happy.<br /><br />So, I finished mowing. Well, the mower *finished*before I had completed the leaf pick-up. I came inside and cleaned up so Eamon and Emma and I could go out for our walk. I noticed the mail had come so went to retrieve it before we went to the trail. I opened up the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. There were medical terms that I did not understand, of course. But, I understood *enough* to understand that the cancer had riddled his body. His heart appeared to be the primary source of the tumor. I knew that the cancer had metastasized, but reading the report hit this fact home. I was amazed that this uncontrolled force was almost everywhere within him. I was also amazed that he did so remarkably well, given the seriousness of his illness. I wonder if he felt sick, tired, uncomfortable, or sad as he was not a complainer. Dr. F said he probably did not realize he had cancer until the last day of his life. I sincerely hope she is right. I hold onto her words.<br /><br />I have looked back at my October posts, realizing that they have not changed in tone from October's beginning to end. I feel like I am working through this grief but become self critical that I am not working through the loss of Malachy as I *should.* Am I mourning his loss for too long a period? Am I perseverating on his absence? Would my grief flow as it has if I were in school, employed, or depression-free? Maybe so. Or, maybe I am working at it as I should. In my own way, as I know how, with all things considered.<br /><br />The irony is that Malachy brought me much relief from the sometimes all-encompassing despair of depression. He mitigated it's severity. He lessened the anxiety. I now grieve his companionship but also long for his ability to unknowingly comfort. <br /><br />I find the nights to be the most difficult. The house is quiet and all have gone to bed. Madeline is asleep in the corner for the evening. The nights allowed me to give Malachy undivided attention. I still enjoy my sweet Madeline's snuggling with all of my heart. I am grateful to have my time with her and give her undivided love. Yet, the nights are quieter. Too quiet. Too unsettling. <br /><br />I have confidence that I will again write posts about all of the joy and silliness the day brings. I know that my life is filled with blessings and good fortune. (KNOCK ON WOOD). I have not lost sight of the wonder. Though, for now, I contemplate the business of grieving.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-79072681303051647322009-10-25T22:48:00.000-05:002009-10-25T22:49:37.304-05:00The AutumnThe Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />Go, sit upon the lofty hill,<br />And turn your eyes around,<br />Where waving woods and waters wild<br />Do hymn an autumn sound.<br />The summer sun is faint on them --<br />The summer flowers depart --<br />Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,<br />Except your musing heart.<br /><br />How there you sat in summer-time,<br />May yet be in your mind;<br />And how you heard the green woods sing<br />Beneath the freshening wind.<br />Though the same wind now blows around,<br />You would its blast recall;<br />For every breath that stirs the trees,<br />Doth cause a leaf to fall.<br /><br />Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth<br />That flesh and dust impart:<br />We cannot bear its visitings,<br />When change is on the heart.<br />Gay words and jests may make us smile,<br />When Sorrow is asleep;<br />But other things must make us smile,<br />When Sorrow bids us weep!<br /><br />The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --<br />Their presence may be o'er;<br />The dearest voice that meets our ear,<br />That tone may come no more!<br />Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,<br />Which once refresh'd our mind,<br />Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,<br />The chilling autumn wind.<br /><br />Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;<br />Look out o'er vale and hill-<br />In spring, the sky encircled them --<br />The sky is round them still.<br />Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --<br />Come change -- and human fate!<br />Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,<br />Can ne'er be desolate.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-54059747149240300622009-10-25T00:47:00.001-05:002009-10-25T00:51:51.265-05:00Time Does Not Bring ReliefTime does not bring relief <br /><br />Time does not bring relief; you all have lied <br />Who told me time would ease me of my pain! <br />I miss him in the weeping of the rain; <br />I want him at the shrinking of the tide; <br />The old snows melt from every mountain-side, <br />And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; <br />But last year's bitter loving must remain <br />Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. <br />There are a hundred places where I fear <br />To go - so with his memory they brim. <br />And entering with relief some quiet place <br />Where never fell his foot or shone his face <br />I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' <br />And so stand stricken, so remembering him. <br /><br /><br />Edna St Vincent Millay (1892 -1950)Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-17572571382643995672009-10-25T00:30:00.005-05:002009-10-25T23:03:28.024-05:00The Business of Grieving...ContinuesAt times, I still cry for you, Malachy. It has been nearly three weeks since you have passed. I continuing to grieve for you. At some point, these posts will not detail how much I miss you or how much I cried for you. Though now, I feel the need to write all of my thoughts, feelings, and fears.<br /><br />Since you died, I have not slept well...at all. I feel out of sorts right now, a sense of discomfort, that has only worsened. I realize that my depression exacerbates these feelings.<br /><br />Perhaps tonight will promise a restful slumber. Or, so I hope. Wish me luck. There are times I cry as my head falls upon the pillow. No longer the sobbing, but instead, the large, warm, slow tears that fall upon my cheek. <br /><br />I find a comfort in my gratitude in all that you were. Your absence is a painful reminder of how much things have changed. I struggle, as my instinct is to fight this *change* with all of my being, But, I know that I must surrender. <br /><br />I continue to grieve, but with a keen eye to all of the surrounding beauty. I must not lose sight of the blessings, despite my sadness.<br /><br />I miss you my sweet Shortround.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-13733630352852780732009-10-25T00:02:00.005-05:002009-10-25T23:04:26.631-05:00Madeline Misses Her BrotherMadeline seems a bit down over the past week. Upon Malachy's passing, I was surprised that Madeline's behavior and demeanor did not appear to change at all, given the circumstances. During a conversation with Dr. Ken, I inquired as to the grieving process with dogs. He mentioned that dogs generally eat less or not at all and become more depressed and less energetic for a week or so. He seemed surprised that Madeline was not exhibiting any manifestations of grief or loss. <br /><br />I wonder if Madeline does indeed miss her brother. They spent almost every moment of the last seven years together. <br /><br />I do know that I need to continue giving her extra attention, extra hugs, extra kisses, and extra treats for a while. Extra love during this adjustment period might be just what the doctor ordered for everyone.<br /><br />I feel very grateful that our family continues to have our sweet Madeline with us. She has had chronic uvetis in both eyes, which, in turn, resulted in Glaucoma in both eyes, which, in turn, caused her complete blindness. Madeline also had a bout with a neural sheath tumor in the area where her right eye once was. We remain hopeful that Dr. O removed the entire tumor as there is a risk that it may grow once more requiring additional surgery.<br /><br />Madeline holds has always held her own. She does not shy away from a challenge. She has not allowed blindness to slow her down, certainly not much to be sure. She has not allowed the cancer to slow her down. She is strong. She is tough. And, we love her.<br /><br />I pray that we will have many more happy years with our sweet girl. :) We love her with all of our hearts.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-74134733835583410942009-10-24T00:33:00.004-05:002009-10-28T15:50:21.232-05:00Sleepless NightsI still miss my sweet Malachy. Since he died, I have been having difficulty sleeping. I still feel out of sorts. I have accepted that he has left us. I am trying to set forth our new normalcy that no longer includes him. So many reminders of him all around. <br /><br />I found myself sobbing in the bathtub this morning, while the kids were in school. I did not intend to cry, after all. Yet, I thought about how much I missed him. So many tears flowed down my face as I lie in the hot water. So many tears. So many tears.<br /><br />This sadness was exacerbated by other variables. Malachy is the primary focus of my current grief. However, his passing opens some very painful wounds that have never really healed. Wounds that remain, despite my great desire that they heal. <br /><br />When I am ready, I will talk about how Malachy's death stirs up the losses in my life. It stirs up so much pain. It stirs up that sense of missing and longing. It reminds me that those I so truly loved, with all of my heart, are gone. Gone forever. Yet, life must tread on. I want it to be a happy life. I need it to be a happy life. I am becoming more and more worn out from the sadness. <br /><br />The business of grieving continues. I resolve to work through this as long as it takes. This is my only chance to truly heal. Not forget, nor feel the pain any less. I cannot continue my journey until I learn to truly heal from this pain.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-2496488467283255612009-10-23T14:08:00.003-05:002009-10-28T15:51:02.627-05:00The ProcessSome days the missing is more intense. Today is one of those days.<br /><br />The nights are the hardest. Too much time to think.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-51993880415108304592009-10-22T21:56:00.006-05:002009-10-23T14:12:52.362-05:00DaisyDad, thank you for saving the oh so cool, Daisy. You gave her the opportunity for a long and wonderful life. Your quick thinking and skill allowed us all many more happy memories with Mama Dog. :)<br /><br />http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=emEPAAAAIBAJ&sjid=2oYDAAAAIBAJ&pg=4072,3723871&hl=enJeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-76588329118685731102009-10-21T13:33:00.003-05:002009-10-28T15:52:28.746-05:00The Beauty of AutumnAutumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower. <br /><br />Albert CamusJeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-83096244728789852562009-10-20T23:01:00.005-05:002009-10-28T15:51:48.604-05:00Emma and Malachy Enjoy a Happy Summer Day (2009)One of my favorite photos...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/St6JHZeDybI/AAAAAAAAAEE/ZNoDzYgGnak/s1600-h/Emma+and+Malachy+at+the+pool"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/St6JHZeDybI/AAAAAAAAAEE/ZNoDzYgGnak/s320/Emma+and+Malachy+at+the+pool" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394900163825486258" /></a>Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-45783429527445041432009-10-20T22:19:00.003-05:002009-10-20T22:59:54.256-05:00Miss Emma and Miss Mama<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/St6HKozU6NI/AAAAAAAAAD0/-Dt9VdqkHrM/s1600-h/emma_times_4_1200.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/St6HKozU6NI/AAAAAAAAAD0/-Dt9VdqkHrM/s320/emma_times_4_1200.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394898020457572562" /></a><br /><br />Sometimes, there are those brief moments when you get this *super-powered* emotional boost. These interjections of the day are truly priceless and alleviate some of the exigency. One of today's favorite moment was courtesy of Emma. I had a bit of a headache and decided to lie down for a few minutes, until the Ibuprofen kicked in. Emma crawled up onto the bed and proclaimed, "Hi Miss Mama." She then put her face close to mine and we looked into each others eyes and both smiled and laughed. She began to give me about ten quick little kisses on the lips and we laughed some more. I am grateful for her silliness, kindness, empathy, and sweetness. I am truly blessed to have such a beautiful daughter. How did I get so lucky?<br /><br />Emma, I love you with all of my heart, my precious girl. I will always be your "Miss Mama."Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-7645294826397840602009-10-20T09:30:00.005-05:002009-10-28T15:55:47.495-05:00A Time to GrieveI understand that my friends have all of the very of best intentions. My sadness of Malachy's passing is painful. Maybe they see the sadness and anxiety manifesting itself on my face. Maybe they have gotten a quick glance at the beginning of one of those involuntary warm tears, beginning in the corner of my eye (Although I do my best to suck it up in front of others). Maybe they have not had the closeness, the warmth, the friendship a beloved pup can bring.<br /><br />I intend no disrespect toward my wonderful friends whom I am blessed to have in my life. I am grateful for their concern. But, with respect to their opinions, I just do not want think about getting another pup right now. Malachy can not be replaced. It is unfair to my family at this point in time. It is also unfair to any potential new canine family member.<br /><br />I must grieve for Malachy before I can be open to the possibility of loving another beloved puppy dog. I understand that may sound counterintuitive to some. But, I must continue in this journey...the business of grieving.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-33961474694054520492009-10-19T22:40:00.008-05:002009-10-20T22:10:12.935-05:00Who ever told you life was fair?I am still trying to become accustomed to our family's new *normalcy* since Malachy passed. I am no longer sobbing as I did the day he died. Or, the next day. Or that day after that. The sobbing has been replaced by warm, soft tears flowing down my cheeks.<br /><br />There are moments when the pragmatism of his passing predominates my thinking. After all, death is part of life. We all experience loss. We all grieve. We all mourn.<br /><br />I have experienced the passing of many whom I have loved with all of my heart...my parents, my grandparents, my uncle, my cousin, close friends, and dogs, after all.<br /><br />Shouldn't I be a bit more stoic? Less sentimental? Less emotional? Less sad? Shouldn't all of these losses toughen me up a bit? Or, is it that these losses have caused me to react strongly to loss? I realize that I am *hyper-reactive* to loss. These losses have strengthened me greatly. They have also weakened me greatly.<br /><br />Why do I grieve so for Malachy? He was not a human being, after all. So, why do I miss him so?<br /><br />Why? Because. Because, he was my sweet boy. Because I truly loved him. Because, I still do.<br /><br />Death is part of life and, despite it's wonder and magic, life is sometimes very painful. <br /><br />I know, I know..I haven't forgotten that all important lesson my Mom would often remind her children, "whoever told you life was fair?" <br /><br />Don't worry, Mom. I haven't forgotten what you taught me.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-27913635814798470402009-10-19T16:43:00.004-05:002009-10-19T16:49:45.308-05:00No one ever said parenting was easyEamon is wearing me down with his oppositionally defiant behavior. Day and night, he pushes and pushes and pushes as hard as he can. I could never have envisioned that a five year old boy would give me such a run for the money. <br /><br />Is it bedtime yet?Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-55831868031778884472009-10-18T22:23:00.004-05:002009-10-18T22:36:46.796-05:00LongingI miss my sweet pup. <br /><br />I miss snuggling with him, especially after Eamon and Emma have gone to bed. I miss playing with him. I miss rubbing and scratching him behind his ears. I miss taking walks with him, especially our jaunts to the bus stop to pick up Eamon. I miss holding him. I miss looking into his big, brown eyes. I miss watching him run and play in the yard. I miss playing in the leaves with him on beautiful autumn days. I miss the sound of his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. I miss seeing him in his quiet spot, under the dining room table. I miss watching the kids pet him and hug him.<br /><br />I catch myself looking for him, for only a brief moment, only to have reality remind me that he is no longer here.<br /><br />I miss my sweet pup.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-47713044005854049972009-10-18T21:13:00.002-05:002009-10-18T21:18:26.068-05:00Pour l'amour des chiensPlus je connais les hommes, plus j'aime les chiens.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7514408054981344107.post-23035838071185106462009-10-17T22:00:00.006-05:002009-10-17T23:09:54.291-05:00The Beauty of Autumn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/StqFPQvvGYI/AAAAAAAAADs/o-c_96zU-5c/s1600-h/Emma+Apple+Orchard"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/StqFPQvvGYI/AAAAAAAAADs/o-c_96zU-5c/s320/Emma+Apple+Orchard" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393770000969308546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/StqFOvWmqZI/AAAAAAAAADk/_ab3mCVZRgg/s1600-h/Eamon+pumpkin+patch"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y1EgyKbKEZs/StqFOvWmqZI/AAAAAAAAADk/_ab3mCVZRgg/s320/Eamon+pumpkin+patch" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393769992005527954" /></a><br /><br />Bernard, Eamon, Emma, and I decided to get out and about to enjoy the beautiful autumn day. This afternoon, we drove out to Minnetonka Orchards in Mound. Early last week, the kids had walking pneumonia which forced them to rest and lay low for a few days. They easily recovered during this "Mom prescribed" rest time thanks to the power of pharmaceuticals (the Z-Pac). Needless to say, Eamon and Emma were anxious to resume their normal routine. Unfortunately, our plans were thwarted as we experienced a phenomenon that reinforces the belief that weather in the northern midwest is unpredictable and often eschews general expectations of so called *normal* weather patterns. This EARLY OCTOBER unpredictability presented as snow and significantly lower than seasonal average temperatures, The weather was cold, dark, dreary, and cloudy, with a mix and snow and icy rain to complete the picture, Consequently, this put a cramp in our plans to play at the park, go for walks on the trails in the neighborhood, and the most anticipated autumn activity, playing in the multitude of leaves that carpet our yard! We rake as many leaves as we can and create large piles in which to jump, crawl, hide, and roll. <br /><br />Macintosh, Madeline and Malachy took part in this tradition with equal excitement. Macintosh and Malachy truly enjoyed this activity as much as the kiddos. This fall, I will miss Malachy's presence in our annual family tradition. During our autumn leaves round-up, he would become excited as we raked the leaves in the large pile as soon it would be time to to play! He would run around the yard, energized, as he knew we were going to pile leaves on him and bury him in the large pile. He would wag his tail and smile. He was so happy to play in the leaves. So happy to be outside in the fresh air. So happy to be with his family. He would smile.<br /><br />I will miss his presence tomorrow as we play in the leaves. It will be much fun playing with the kids and jumping in the pile with them. Madeline mght want to get in on the action, too ! Humans or canines, they will all be buried in leaves only to jump out from under to run across the yard, only to return in a mad dash and leap into the large pile of leaves. We will all have fun. We will all mile. We will all laugh. We will all giggle. Hopefully, Eamon and Emma's mother will remember to take many photos of these outside adventures for posterity's sake. Shortround will not be there to join in the afternoon's escapades. We continue to process through our grief and will miss him as we have for the past two weeks. <br /><br />Life goes on. The reassessment of normalcy begins, Life has changed and what once was only two weeks ago is no longer. We begin to create our new reality without our sweet pup, We are still grieving his loss as we accept this change and embrace this new normalcy. Life goes on. Because it must.Jeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01401220812222674176noreply@blogger.com0