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I have another grand-niece and she's a cutie! Olivia Kate (7 lbs. 14 oz.) arrived yesterday morning and mother and baby are doing well. Normally, I think infants look unnervingly like Yoda, but she actually looks cute! (As I may have mentioned before, my niece and her husband produce remarkably attractive offspring, and no, I am not biased; see: Yoda comment, above.)
When in a funk, babies (that you can return to their parents) and family (that you like) are very comforting, so my mom and I went up to CT for Mother's Day weekend and saw the gang.
It was Mom's first visit to see my brother-in-law in the nursing home and he was doing much better this time (fentanyl is your friend -- the absence of pain works wonders on anyone's state of mind). He occasionally had flashes of lucidity where he would recognize my mom or me. Then seconds later, he would be off in his own world again. (I have to admit that those flashes are more disorienting than when he just stares at us blankly.)
Also confusing -- to me -- is the fact that he looks better, but the doctors are mentioning "hospice" and urging my sister to think about "making arrangements". I understand intellectually why this is (I mean, he has now been taken off solid foods altogether because he may choke) but emotionally I'm in denial, I guess.
As for my non-romantic situation, I'm in the angry portion of the seven stages of grief (and when I get angry I eat apparently -- I have gained several pounds to date). I also distract myself with retail therapy (thankfully, I am cheap, so this involves outlets and eBay, not Bulgari or Armani) and vacation planning.
You can see why babies, Mom (I spend a lot of time at her place, knitting -- she found me the matching buttons for this sweater I finished for Sonya's future baby girl) and my lively family (Sonya is my brother-in-law's niece, by the way) are such welcome distractions, especially since my home (always a manifestation of my enotional health) is completely overrun -- it rather looks like the post-tornado Midwest, or as one friend said recently, "Jeez -- are you moving or what?" Yes, it's THAT messy.
And now, lunch time is OVAH.
When in a funk, babies (that you can return to their parents) and family (that you like) are very comforting, so my mom and I went up to CT for Mother's Day weekend and saw the gang.
It was Mom's first visit to see my brother-in-law in the nursing home and he was doing much better this time (fentanyl is your friend -- the absence of pain works wonders on anyone's state of mind). He occasionally had flashes of lucidity where he would recognize my mom or me. Then seconds later, he would be off in his own world again. (I have to admit that those flashes are more disorienting than when he just stares at us blankly.)
Also confusing -- to me -- is the fact that he looks better, but the doctors are mentioning "hospice" and urging my sister to think about "making arrangements". I understand intellectually why this is (I mean, he has now been taken off solid foods altogether because he may choke) but emotionally I'm in denial, I guess.
As for my non-romantic situation, I'm in the angry portion of the seven stages of grief (and when I get angry I eat apparently -- I have gained several pounds to date). I also distract myself with retail therapy (thankfully, I am cheap, so this involves outlets and eBay, not Bulgari or Armani) and vacation planning. You can see why babies, Mom (I spend a lot of time at her place, knitting -- she found me the matching buttons for this sweater I finished for Sonya's future baby girl) and my lively family (Sonya is my brother-in-law's niece, by the way) are such welcome distractions, especially since my home (always a manifestation of my enotional health) is completely overrun -- it rather looks like the post-tornado Midwest, or as one friend said recently, "Jeez -- are you moving or what?" Yes, it's THAT messy.
And now, lunch time is OVAH.
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