Life

Yesterday we picked Alex up early from work due to some extended car trouble. We headed out to Long Beach where his loaner car was waiting (rather than his actual car...*sigh*). After a spontaneous test drive of a car we really, really shouldn't buy but are obsessing about, we caravaned home on the 405 North. I was feeling pretty happy about the low traffic and my carpool lane when we came upon the scene of an accident in the southbound lanes. There were a lot of motorcycle cops, a large stopped truck, a motorcycle, a pair of boots, and a pile of white sheets, the top layer rustling a bit in the breeze.

Of course, those sheets weren't just sheets. It was the body of a 42-year-old motorcyclist who'd gone under that truck.

I told Alex when we got home, "This is just a normal day for us. But for some family it's the worst day ever, and they probably don't even know that yet."

I remember going to a park in Berlin the afternoon after getting the phone call from my mom telling me she'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I walked around, looking at other people, realizing that we never know what is happening in other people's lives. No one observing me that day could have guessed my life had been changed hours before. I resolved then and resolve now to be more empathetic and cut the people around me some slack.

Last summer I was so grateful for the nice, patient Subway employee who took my large order of sandwiches, never flinching at the growing line, my kids running around, or my occasional indecisiveness. The sandwiches were for Alex's family back at the hospital where we would spend one last night in an intensive care waiting room.

It's a cliche, but also a truth, that life is fragile. More gratitude, more patience, more love can make that fragility bearable.

A Quick Check-In

Hi. It's been almost a month! This is notably bad because it means I haven't written about Birthday Beckett or the boys' joint superhero party. That stuff is kind of worth remembering. Ah, well. I guess I haven't been in the best blogging mood, but I've also been trying to cut down on computer time during the day. Then night rolls around, and chilling with Alex is always more appealing.

Or maybe the lack of blogging is due to a foggy, sleepy brain brought on my boys who no longer sleep through the night. They are FOUR and TWO. How is this possible?? Beckett definitely started it, but now it's one or both of them who wake up in the middle of the night to come in our bed. Based on our fatigue level, we send them back to bed or just manage a sleepy (but resentful), "Fine."

Last night, bedtime seemed to work great. Until Hamilton remained awake for another two hours, eventually waking Beckett up as well. So, "put the boys to bed" part II happened around 10. They last until 4am, when I lie down by Beckett for over an hour without any of us going to sleep. I finally gave up in frustration and headed to my room where I could hear Hamilton yelling, "Mom! Mommy!" for about 30 minutes before I finally went in and chucked his pillow back up to the top bunk. It's quite possible I did this with a lot of force preceded by some cursing back in my own room. Should you really have to put kids to bed THREE times during ONE night??

Miraculously the boys fell back asleep when Alex went to the gym. Even I fell asleep. But I was sadly awoken by some angry doorbell ringing and car honking by Alex who had forgotten his house keys.

What's my point? I don't know. Maybe by writing it down I can recall it with good humor later. It will help me remember that when Hamilton was dramatically crying, "Ow! Ow!" we could hear Beckett's sweet little voice asking, "Ham? Owie?" Or that on his way back home that morning, Alex had the "soul crushing" realization that these boys won't see him as their hero and best friend forever. Or perhaps I will feel empowered that despite a rough night, I still got my morning workout in. And maybe it's good to pepper my blog, which is filled with so much fun and amazing moments, with the moments that are real and tough.