thrilla nite

the former miss mj2 asked what our favorites of michael jackson's were. funny how it's hard to pin songs down when they are so absorbed into a moment. i really just don't know the answer to that.

my very first boyfriend was paul w_ts_n. it seems his grandfather had the meat locker in town. our favorite song was "let's get physical". for my birthday he once gave me a three-charmed heart necklace in a heart-shaped tin jewel box with a puppy dog on the porcelain lid. i have it still. we told our mothers on a sunny summer morning that we would make babies for them. our sole request as compensation was a life-time supply of m&m's and... something four-year-old's equally prize. i want to say bubble gum, but no one is around to proof me that fact. when asked how paul and i would have these babies, we told our mothers what we knew about the birds and bees from spying on their daytime stories: we would roll around on the bed and smell each other's necks. paul moved away before that favorite tale of my mother's would become embarrassing.

my second boyfriend was marty p_pp_t. it was a short-lived romance. a fling. i broke up with him when i saw what his bedroom looked like. there was nothing fun to play with, no decent toy or game to pass our time. he cried. i traced a heart on my backseat window to him as we left his house in the drizzled night rain. it was very dramatic. i imagine i was still spying too many soaps.

my third boyfriend was kevin h_lb_n. older now, i considered kevin to be my first true love. i re-named my lucky win cabbage patch after him. we met at reunion - guthrie - the family church camp i went to that year with my grandparents. his grandparents and mine were good friends, and the h_lb_ns had brought their granddaughter and another grandson as well. all four of us the same ages. jennifer and i sharing a first name. jennifer and kevin the same last. i new my married name would have a nice ring to it, and moreover, i could say it out loud whenever i wanted without being reckless. reckless = teased for bridal day-dreaming. it's not that i didn't get into trouble.

i was sitting next to kevin at campfire. everyone gathers on a steep hill around the nightly bonfire. suddenly my wheelchair brakes were pulled so hard i was certain something had given and i was about to wheel right into the flames in the midst of "i've got love like an ocean". a split-second later and the jerk back, i reconsidered my descent thinking i would not roll but take flight. grandma was a stern woman and i feared her more than any other being on earth. i would never intentionally disobey her. hand to heart, i had completely forgotten my promise to swap nap time for an early bedtime. to this day, that moment is in the top ten of all-time most frightening experiences. i took my naps after that in exchange for campfires and the trips we'd make to the canteen for now-and-laters on the walk back to our cabins.

kevin and i exchanged what we thought were love letters. he sent me pictures from school talent shows and his father's second-wedding with him all dressed up as ring bearer. we tagged along whenever our grandfathers came to preach at the other's church, sometimes with his cousins, sometimes not. my cousin and i tape-recorded "chariots of fire" off the radio and i whispered at the end "i love you, kevin" which is barely audible above the giggling.

by the sixth grade we seemed to have a mutual realization of how corny we had been and this mutual realization brought on a sort of mutual embarrassment and serious awkwardness whenever our families gathered together. when we found ourselves together again at a church convention our junior year i seriously got butterflies. he was so tall. when i first met vern i chuckled to myself at how he looked like i imagined kevin did all grown up. kevin doesn't. a few months ago we became friends again on facebook. he and his wife have three boys and is a fire fighter in the same town he was raised. his grandparents have both passed. he looks so old with one of those goat-less mustache goatee things.

i asked if he could still moonwalk. i could about hear his choked laughter. every reunion has a variety show and that summer we met and became such fast friends, kevin did a michael jackson routine complete with the red jacket, hat, socks and high-water pants. i remember another group singing 'elvira'. they were fun, but kevin was amazing. it was as close as i've ever been to dating a celebrity and while many other big moments are tied to jackson hits, the one that stands out most is kevin performing 'thriller'. i often do not consider mj without a thought of kh. and then feeling kind of giddy reminiscing about the alluring mixed scent of campfire smoke, avon's skin-so-soft, and willy wonka candy.

water-proof

i read an article in a parenting mag the other night that suggested i ask for a water-proof cast if one of the kids breaks a limb this summer.

i about fell off the toilet seat. i wasn't using it. i was pretending to be for some solitude.

when my grandmother finally disclosed to grandpa the huge lump she had on her breast, they traveled as far as california in search of doctors' advice and treatment. she had waited much too long. they lived in rooms 416 and 418 of the red lion in downtown omaha as she battled cancer. as an infant, i slept in one of the open dresser drawers. at two weeks i took my first swim in the hotel pool. my family celebrated Christmas there. twice.

finally my grandfather bought a house. it came with a housekeeper and a pool. he thought each would help my grandmother recover. or at least feel more at home before she passed. we call it the fieldcrest house. it was magnificent. grandma died on my father's birthday twelve days before i turned two. she never did move into the house.

my grandfather and college-aged uncle did. the house had floors and chandeliers and framed mirrors spanning the width and length of an entire hall and carved entry doors - all flown-in from italy and france. the wet bar in the living room had a gold faucet that resembled a swan. it was built and decorated by the original owners as a piece of art. the two bachelors put a pool table in what had been the dining room. they picked the living room furniture up at the office store, getting whatever my uncle had fallen asleep in as grandpa looked at drafting tables for his bedroom. the two burgundy wing back leather chairs and matching couch. i lived in those chairs during the winter months curled up watching tv and eating ice cream.

i lived in the pool during the summer months. i would dive off the spring board and touch the drain. i would play on the buoyed rope dividing the deep from the shallow ends. there were two floats of silky squishy white with built-in pillows. my tough bladder meant i never needed potty breaks. i never came in to eat. mattie, the housekeeper, would serve me pb&j and chocolate milk sitting on either the steps or a float. i know what chlorine-logged bread tastes like. i never came in to nap. if the sun got the best of me, i would sandwich myself between the two floats, using the top as a blanket. it was light and cool and would mold to me. it was so luxurious.

mom taught me how to dive properly and all the swim strokes. my uncle and i raced and flopped from the diving board. dad would sometimes even play with me, but my best swim date was grandpa. we spit water at each other. watched fireworks shimmer reflections on the fourth. defy lightening in the storms - or at least my grandfather would. i still had a mother who would pull rank when it rained on us though she could never convince my grandfather of anything. as i write this, though, i note it was the only time he would let her pull rank on me in his presence. indeed, lightening + mom was the only thing that could get me out of the water.

the summer before the second grade i was scheduled to have another round of knee surgeries. my brother came down with the chicken pox. then so did i. the surgeries were postponed, and i spent a week itching with grandpa and mattie. i forgot once while napping to pull up a float or get more sunscreen. i was so badly burned we had to reschedule for the second time.

third time was the charm, and the surgeries happened. and when they were over, i spent the rest of the summer watching everyone splash happy from the kitchen patio doors. my first time in a wheelchair, up to my hips in hot, heavy casts. oh did my face burn. it was the most painful part of any my surgeries. soothed only slightly by the fact that grandpa remained dry-docked with me. i remember that night of the big party for my uncle and lots of other kids diving and splashing and floating around, grandpa sitting at the kitchen table with me, watching alfred hitchcock and after telling owl stories.

water-proof casts. what a marvel of modern invention. crazy the things that crop up while sitting on the toilet not-peeing during a mommy break.

i don't even know what to say

our ob's nurse was from parkersburg. her husband was a football coach there. her cousin played at the time for the chiefs. we loved our ob appointments. she left just before we were pregnant with maddy to join wartburg. the college i graduated from in '98. it's fun to see her in alum stuff. we thought of her when the tornado whipped through last year. we watched her on tv, and were so proud of what she had to say regarding a community's heart and grief. some things are beyond man's control. and then come days like today. and i question the evils that are directly a result of our lack of control.

big prayers to dawn, a-p, and the family of coach thomas.

not so itsy bitsy

i thought i would get me a new suit for our numerous waterpark and sprinkler-run adventures this summer. now that summer has indeed arrived with its two bff's: mug and storm.

in march, i had high hopes of resurrecting my favorite black number. the last time i wore it vern had to help get it off. by that i mean he had to hold my suit bunched around my waist with both hands while i gripped the bed with mine and we both tugged. he remembers it fondly. i cringe.

i'm not back to black yet. i could almost pull out the maternity suits were it not that they are designed to give you a little breathing room just where i'd prefer they suck me back together. i bought a cheap blue suit after our tug of war. i could wear it up until my 7th month of pregnancy. it looks like it. i'll swim in jeans and a t-shirt-covered-nursing bra before i wear that sorry thing again.

so.

i was willing to pay a little for this wonder of wonders i found on-line. a miracle of sewn lycra that would boost, suck, shape, trim, tighten and take a good 10 pounds off. i squealed with joy. it was cute. i was skipping around the room. and then i read the fine print:

Suntan lotion absorbed by the suit and not washed out can damage the fabric. Please always be careful to keep your Miraclesuit® free from lotions.

i wear 50 sunblock and reapply every hour. and i still burn.

Whirlpools and spas have a high concentration of chemicals to sanitize the water. Public pools often exceed normal chlorine levels for health reasons. Regular use of these facilities may cause the fabric of your suit to breakdown more quickly than what is considered to be normal use. We suggest wearing an older Miraclesuit® in the hot tub, and saving your new Miraclesuit® for the beach or pool.

in my befuddlement of how miracles are not suited for freckled iowa girls like me, this post from antique mommy came to mind.

what i thought as i caught up on blogs

specifically my friend's regarding their memorial day:

she wrote about how growing up her family attended our hometown's service although they did not have any family buried there.

i thought about how we used to visit our family plot with my great-aunts and uncles. it was always fun as they'd share stories about my great-granddad, grandmother, my dad's kid brother. once four- or five-year-old carl had to go really bad, and lucky for him uncle bob and aunt betty had commuted to the cemetery in their camper. by all reports it was the coolest thing ever, peeing in a camper.

i thought about how i had the best of intentions to get our troop to mayberry's service where every year vern's dad is involved. i've never seen his dad perform memorial day service duties. i will regret losing him before i and the kids do. thinking on this, and how he was nearly 81, i was resolved sunday night on going. i failed to mention my resolve to vern. monday morning came and i forgot all about the memorial service in the leaked diapers and nursing and breakfast and kitchen remodeling and "really, i'd just like to start a day clean for a change" until i was rinsing my hair of conditioner. someone rang the bell at the very moment i left the bathroom, disgusted at my shotty resolve, and i hollered to caleb not to let anyone in the house as i, my disgust, and my towel dashed for cover in the bedroom. "dad's out back cutting lumber! tell them! do not open that door!" in response came the chime of the front door opening, and yelped a little louder. poor caleb. on the other end of his near-streaking mother was his near-yellow-sighted grandmother. caleb chose wisely. vern's mom laughed later that she entered the service right behind the flag, marching in just on time. and with dry pants thanks to her grandson.

i thought about how we did not.

she wrote about how taps were played at their church service sunday morning.

i thought about how my grandmother refused a 21-one gun salute or taps at my grandfather's funeral. she has not been able to handle listening to either since a family death after world war II. i thought about how i'll never relate them to my grandfather. my navy boy grandfather who wore a purple hawaiian shirt in his casket. who enlisted when he saw a battleship on the cover of life magazine and was married in his navy uniform while on leave. and then served on that same ship, giving me the magazine his mother had tucked away the last time we visited him. who choked up every time he told the story of meeting a man, a lifetime later while he and my grandmother taught english in japan, who had been on the beach he stormed oh so long ago. he and that japanese veteran had embraced and cried together.

my friend wrote about how she began to thinking about her cousin's deep emotion when taps was played earlier this year at their grandfather's funeral. she wrote about how hard she cried, and how she avoided hearing taps all the next day. she wrote of her renewed appreciation for our servicemen, including those in her family.

i thought in agreement the sentiment of gratitude. and then how i have not cried at the deaths of any my great-aunts or uncles or even my grandfathers. i thought about how almost annoyed i get when anyone belabors in grief their elderly grandparent's passing.

her college roommate by then had commented: "I wish I could have been there to bawl with you."

i had not thought that.

with more than a little shame, i wondered why i've turned so hard. whether one day vern's dad's death will crack my shell.

we will not be missing mayberry's memorial service next year. i'm crossing my fingers vern's dad will not be either.

waffleheads

caleb assisted in this week's meal planning, and we have now reached the big seven day finale: waffleheads for breakfast. when the child suggests a new dish, giggles. when the parent, wide-eyed fear.

last night my older siblings-in-law convinced me to try grilled asparagus they moments before nabbed from the ditch, sprayed with pam, sprinkled with spices, and nestled between the burgers. it was good. until i got to the very end. then it tasted like grass. still. i ate it. and it did not taste anything like i remembered from when mom plucked and served it up for meals when i was 10.

caleb just explained how one makes waffleheads. it involves waffles and lots of chocolate and raspberry syrups. i'm sure peanut butter on the side. for whatever reason, i'm cringing just a little. for whatever reason = because i'm old. old enough to have actually eaten asparagus.

itsy bitsy teeny weeny

while neither yellow nor polka-dotted, we still got maddy a little thing of a bikini today at old navy. it was the only one i liked. the bottoms were boy short-ish. the top was just a couple triangles and some string. the girl's not even two. i questioned where my head was when vern looked over and said it was perfect. then i questioned how either of us could pass as responsible parents.

i had a two-piece when i was a toddler. it was more like a short tankini that mom sewed herself. read: toddler-appropriate. my midriff was covered from then until the 9th grade when i fell in love at penney's. in. love. the bottoms were blue high-cut with a white gathered waist band. the top was a green bandeau with a strap that could be removed and become an all out strapless bikini. that was not what alarmed my aunt when i overheard her with mom.

my new bathing suit was not held together by stitch and optional strap alone: at each hip and centered on my bust were hook and eye clasps. three per set. at any given moment i was just three clasps away from girls gone wild or mooning folks. that seemed a little extreme to everyone except my mother who i then overheard reply "it's jen. and i want her to feel like a girl, too".

i did feel pretty girlie in it. under the t-shirt i wore because i was all too aware that my bust could not keep the clasps taught enough to stay permanently affixed. never mind when trying to dunk my kid brother. i had a one-piece that i wore outside of family outings. in fact, i was so uncomfortable with my knees that i actually wore my one-piece speedo with jeans jet-skiing in high school to cover them. jeans. as if no one would find that odd. a double below-knee amputee teen girl out in the middle of a lake in full-length levi's. jet-skiing. plus i never considered how much heavier that would make me seem when my crush then lifted me back onto the boat. if that sheds some light to all that was laden in what mom meant by "it's jen".

i think about that when mothers, myself included, judge other mothers. when i consider how far i'll step out of approved bounds for my kids, fully aware i do not have my mother's backbone. whenever i go swimsuit shopping for maddy, equally mindful i did not inherit her seamstress skill either.

we returned the suit for its lack of strap adjustments. vern thought it was cute. i thought it looked funny. her pot belly sticking out under her non-existent chest. i say non-existent; caleb exclaimed in utter-surprise, "maddy! you have nurse things!"

vacation bible school

caleb was grandmothered in at vacation bible school two years ago. vern's mother helping with crafts just one more year so she could justify bringing him there. we do not attend their church, and vm was itching for a reason to show off her beloved.

every day the boy would come home and report "nothing" and "i do not know". sunday we went to watch him not sing on the very front step in the sanctuary. he didn't sing, he didn't move. caleb has always been a nice average for his age. meaning he looked teeny tiny not singing, not moving, with a class a full year to two older. at 6'3" each, vern and his brother, jay, are recognized for being tall-ish. something about caleb's introduction into their childhood congregation as the shortest kid up front was amusing. better still, their teacher carried caleb from activity to activity on his shoulders. tyler is tall. then just finishing his sophomore year of high school, he graduated this year at 6'8". caleb would report "nothing" and "i do not know" and his grandmother would giggle at how tyler would have to duck down with caleb not to crack the child's head when coming downstairs. i never did get a good handle on what went on that year.

the following, when caleb was actually of age, he could explain a bit of the day's activities and always half their bible lesson. "Jesus met a blind man." "and then what happened?" "i don't know." "Jesus died." "and then what happened?" "i do not know." neither he nor his grandmother could report who his teacher was just "not tyler". he still refused to sing. stating his class was terrible at singing and so he refused to participate and sound bad, too. the big kids sang so much better. maybe he would sing if he ever sang with the big kids. stuck yet with the bitty bad singers, he stood completely still on the front step. if you don't sing, you can't do the actions that go with them either.

this year he fell in love with vbs despite a rocky beginning. for the entire week leading up, he would let it be known vbs was not his bag. he did not want to go. he didn't even fake it for grandma, not even for her cookies. brushing his teeth monday morning, caleb stepped back and told me "i am afraid of heights." well. ok. "so i don't want to ride on that guy's shoulders." ah. so. "and i did not like it even back then when i was a little baby kid either." point taken. i reminded him he was a big kid now. he could walk. i told him grandma would still probably laugh about it and mention it three times in one sitting of conversation like she does every time vbs is mentioned. because that's how grandmas are when they latch on to a moment you were especially cute.

we missed his big sing-a-long sunday. we were lucky to have a hint of how improved his class sings this year when the kids that could, did, at mayberry's neighbor's days variety show saturday night. caleb and three girls rocked the little opera theater. it'll sound biased, but i'd say it was the best performance of the night. or at least a close tie to the man who sang about an angel flying close too the ground completely drunk. i do mean completely and drunk. not only that, but caleb rode the church float in the parade beforehand. towards the front so that when his float was through the course tyler carried him back to where we were catching candy along the route. i make note of this only for how hard vern and i laughed that tyler had his hands cupped in front of him providing a seat where caleb sat. as low as the boy could get to the ground and still not have to work his feet. if only his grandparents had been there to see him, they would have beamed.

they were home. folding bulletins after an entire afternoon fighting technology in the church basement and an hour long phone call with vern's older brother explaining just how copy machines work. we spoke with both parties just after. each sounded thoroughly spent. vm conned jay into playing organ for their church when he was a lad. she brought him to a wwf match. he's been commuting from 2 hours to 45 minutes every other week since to play. and do bulletins because if he didn't serve as church secretary his mother would. and after saturday, it's evident how that would work out. jay would be doing them no matter.

which he sort of chuckled about the next morning when all of us missed the big missouri-synod lutheran vbs church finale and pot luck where caleb would have belted it out with his entire well-sung class. we met instead where jay actually worships with his wife every other sunday and saturday nights for their son's baptism. jay's family is one wwf match and a copy machine away from being entirely catholic. i was raised rlds. then i went to a liberal (read: not mo-synod) lutheran school, i married their lapsed son in an elca (read: not-at-all mo-synod) church, and now sometimes attend a non-denominational outfit an hour south. or as vern's parents and extended mo-synod cousins assume "not at all".

indeed. caleb is his grandmother's new hope. not really because she fears for his spiritual growth quite like the cousins do. i'm waiting for her to suggest organ lessons.

mapquest

up until these last 23 months i have been able to get around this earth all on my own detachable two legs. of course the children do not remember this. they live in the now where vern totes my butt all over creation lifting me into and out of the tahoe, up and down stairs, through narrow bathroom doorways and around cramped hotel rooms. he pushes, he drives, he gets all the luggage.

today my cousin called to say she and her four year old were talking about heaven. keira asking about what would happen to her body. my cousin telling her that in heaven we would get new, perfect bodies with no owies. they talked about her uncle rick and how his body was now in the ground, and up in heaven he would have a new one. with legs. i don't know what i think dad has up there. but what my niece said in reply is the giggle of the week:

"when uncle (vern) takes jen up to heaven, i think he might need a map."

because in this theory i might be perfect once i get there, but i'll still need vern to carry me up. i do not know what part i love more - that, or the bit about needing a map so he does not get lost en route.

mommy guilt

i still cannot make it through the entire video tribute to madeline alice spohr. the pictures i can handle. combined with video of her and music, no. maddie. a name so very close to our #2 choice, so close in age to our actual abigail olivia holt.

for all my family has endured, the loss of a child is something i cannot imagine. and yet i seem surrounded by folks - in the blogosphere and my own widening circle - who have. who are.

our reality is a physical one. no matter how faithful we are in the spiritual. i only recognize my children by their look and feel and sound. there was a sense about mom that was lost in her accident. and how did we know? we saw it in her altered look and felt it in her altered touch. altered or no. i cannot imagine the feel of my children's bodies, the sight of their faces put to dust.

and yet woefully ignored were they today.

i suppose that is my prayer of thankfulness. that i have been afforded another day to be one of those moms. who took a full minute to realize maddy was saying "i'm stuck" not "look/duck/truck/sock", as i was trying to get her to move along so i could pick up mr. neglected too. she couldn't be on her way as her pant leg was caught on the the edge of my wheelchair.

such extreme grief i cannot fathom. it makes all of whatever i write about here to the children pale in significance. i want that on the record. at all times, even when i'm being a petty dope or mean mom, i remember how lucky we are.

lucky we are and yet still incredibly sad for families like maddie's. hugging the child God lent you to raise does not erase the pain you feel for parents unable to hug theirs.

the tonight show

i never intended to post leno's gatorade joke the other night. extreme tire caused me to hit publish rather than save, and i let it be. really i was just writing it down to remember and share with vern when he returned from the shower. thankfully i did not include all the jaywalking questions i and my 4-year degree never seem to know either. for that, too, i shall blame extreme tire. when vern asked 10 minutes later what on earth i did not know, i couldn't recall what i could not answer. so it is plausible excuse, no?

i watched carson's last show from a hotel room in des moines. state track. i can hardly conjure up a thing about it, but then i can't remember much of that particular meet either. was that the year meg introduced me to subway? when it rained? when i snapped the shot of bianca not-smiling in the group photo with her chicken drum? when jorgy pointed out all the scum floating in the bottom of pool hot tubs? no extreme tire factoring in here. age. if not for pictures all of high school would in my memory be compressed to one year.

i watched leno's last show as we cleaned for company's arrival. i don't know how much i'll remember in 17 years. of the show or my brother and his wife's visit. this was the sunny weekend that we took blimpie's to the lake. without vern because all the farmers were working hard before it rained. that carl gave owen his first: bites of anything, ice cream ala cone and cool whip ala spray glob in hand; swim just in time before caleb's 3-6m trunks were too teeny. laps and splashes in the pool, including a dunk of the 'they're trim, not leak-proof' swim diaper in the hotel's hot tub. details bright and shiny now will undoubtedly be blended in with the rest.


i may only vaguely recall the end of this tonight show era, how jay reminded everyone it was just a tv show. how he said he contemplated the media questions about what he felt his legacy would be and spoke of the unions created within the tonight show crew. then pulled back the curtain to show the mass of children born to them within their tenure. 69? 68? see. already the facts slipping, but not jay's emotion or the little one running around in front.

i may have cried. slightly. extreme tire, age and hormones.


if only brett could have handed the ball over so admirably - this thought my original intended tie-in from the gatorade joke. having said that, i realize jay will be back in the fall. and had nbc not worked with him, he may well have pulled a brett letterman and gone purple and gold. but at least he didn't fake retire just to switch sides, and can take his whole team with him. ha. there's the difference.

tonight we watched conan. like we normally watch any late-night show which is to say with 1/2 an ear or eye. i nudged vern awake to catch pearl jam. i have yet to understand why he loves that band. i tried to tune out my 1/2 ear and dunked my sorrow, confirming this morning i had indeed somehow deleted caleb in his 4-year-old-mmmmmint-chip-cold-stone-cake-surprise-party-glow et al, in all the happy birthday shots at iheartfaces. what extreme timing.

i did not cry. having already exhausted many an anguished tear - hoping they might be on the lost memory card, but fearing (correctly) they were not - for the past 5 months, 17 days. my only consolation is the guarantee that none of my hard-flash shots would have been any more iheartface saturday-worthy than the rest of our hard-flash birthday shots.


i don't know that i've ever seen a picture of grandpa blowing out the fire created when my aunt lit all his hard-earned candles atop the barn-themed cake. i keep thinking there is one as i remember the scene so vividly. age has yet to delete it. no singular moment stands up and waves within my brain, but there is a warm glow from where all those nights watching carson with grandpa have blurred together. i hope the same holds true for caleb's memory of his mmmmmmint chip cake and john deere tall candles. and how much his family loved and celebrated him each and every birthday.

i'm so fearful of tire, age or a big bad blow to the head taking away our moments that i try to archive it all on film. our legacy. the moments. not the quality pictures of. those are only as back-up. so when i hand the ball over it will be fully inflated. because blurred warm glows in one's memory can be jostled into something wholly different with big blows to the head. because now all i have to prove a moment actually existed is the picture mom took.


before pictures there was this thing called paper and pen. i tend to forget that in my mad dash of digital snap happy. that sometimes pictures do not speak a thousand words. sometimes a short note from your mom about your surprise birthday when you were four says more. that jay's point was not the mass of kids all in one shot, but that when each child asked how his or her parents met, they would reply "at the tonight show with jay..."