Happy Birthday Grandmom!

So.

One of the things that briefly came up with the doctor at my last visit was caregiver burnout.

In that it may be contributing to my inability to get my OCD and anxiety under control.

Here’s the thing. My grandmother doesn’t require nursing or skilled care. She is capable of performing most ADL (activities of daily living) on her own, so it’s not physically taxing.

Which makes me feel (of course) guilty about thinking I might have caregiver burnout, since I don’t physically have to do anything.

But it is emotionally draining, and I need to give myself permission to be accepting of that.

It’s a hard thing though, because it’s a different form of weakness than I’m used to admitting to, and it feels like something I should be able to manage.

There are other things, of course, but they fall under the realm of things that I Will Not Discuss Here (things involving other people).

But that’s where I am–trying to deal with this new realization, and see if I can come up with some other solutions to my add to what I’m already doing to keep myself on an even keel.

Why yes, I did marry a mutant. Michael reads the instruction manuals on EVERYTHING.

I’m the one that refuses to read instructions or ask directions.

But who cares about instructions? I’ve got cinnamon bread rising right now!

Day of the Dead

I’ve ruminated before about the somewhat unhealthy attitude Americans have towards death.

Don’t misunderstand me, death is a painful thing for those who survive. Loss–whether unexpected or not–is a hard thing, and even though we may live on past the death of those we love, a small part of us dies with them.

This is not to say we are reduced by every loss we suffer; it’s not a zero sum game, for new people are new relationships will enter our lives, and although they cannot replace those we have lost, they don’t need to.

But back to El Día de los Muertos.

The Day of the Dead is celebrated–and I do mean celebrated–in Mexico and by those of Mexican in the US. It is in some ways similar to the Celtic belief of Samhain, in that it is believed our world is close to another world, and for this time the ghosts of the dead are able to return.

This return, however, is not a haunting as most Americans would probably initially think. The dead are not vengeful and coming back to torment the living, but instead the living decorate the graves of their loved ones, setting out their favorite foods, as well as skull candies and cookies.

What I like is it gives you a chance to remember the good things about those who died. To remember the things that made you laugh, and the things you loved.

When I die, I don’t want people to wail and mourn my loss, but I want them instead to laugh and celebrate my life. And although there are some who would like their passing to be rung out with a wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of garments, for the most part I don’t believe that those who loved us would want us to suffer at their passing.

So today, I ask you to remember those who have died: to remember what you loved and what made you laugh. Take today as a day to celebrate their lives, not to mourn their loss.

Today I remember:

Beth Cave, my grandmother. She loved football and made marvelous mincemeat tarts.

Bob Cave, my grandfather. He loved trains, and every winter would put a board on the pool table in the basement and set up tracks for HO scale trains, including houses and bridges.

Avery at Stereo Describes my Scenario recently went to see the film Good Hair, and as usual when the subject of hair comes up, it got me thinking.

For those of you who have not met me, I have very thick, very curly hair. I’ve always had people tell me they wish they had my hair, and although I’ve come to terms with it in recent years, I don’t think I’ll every say that I love my hair.

When I was a toddler I had straight blond hair. As I grew up, I got lots of bristle brushes, and whatever other utensils my mom would use for her hair. And whatever shampoo was on sale.

If you have curly hair, you can probably see where this is going: My hair was a mess.

All the time.

It’d tangle if you looked at it funny. It would never lie flat and neat, but would instead fly away and generally look like a mare’s nest.

Add to the mix the fact that I was a tomboy. Pull my hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way and keep the tangles to a minimum and I was good.

My mom, however, hated my hair, and in 7th grade she ordered me to get my hair cut off. And I do mean ordered. I walked up to the barber shop, put my name on the list, and when Larry asked what I needed, I burst into tears and said I had to get my hair cut off.

Larry told me to have a seat and he’d get back to me. Then he went off and called my Dad. “Your daughter is in here crying saying I have to cut her hair off.” That’s how things were, my Dad said. So I sat there and Larry waited until everyone else had left the store and then he cut my hair. Before he started, he pulled out a baggie and told me I could keep the hair if I wanted.

I did.

But a funny thing happened as he cut. The hair my mom had always treated as just a little bit wavy stared popping up curls all over the place when he cut it. He was shocked at how curly it was, and I remember him commenting that no wonder I had problems with it.

That should have been the end of things.

But it wasn’t.

No one ever told me you had to care for curly hair differently than straight hair.

Needless to say, things didn’t get much better.

In high school I ended up cutting my hair extremely short (hey, it was the late 80s. That was the thing to do anyway) and I discovered that if I used mousse I could reduce the volume a bit. Of course this left me with crunchy hair, but in my opinion, crunchy was far better than the alternative.

To be honest, I was in my 20s before I learned that you have to treat curly hair very differently from straight hair.

Once I truly started to understand this, my world changed completely. I suddenly had the ability to get my hair to behave the way I wanted–or at the very least keep from turning into a mass of knots when I wasn’t paying attention.

As I said, I still don’t love my hair, but I’ve come to terms with it. I spend a lot of money on expensive shampoos and conditioners and treatments and anti-frizz serums and creams and gels that moisturize my hair and help tame it. And half the time I still get giant hair. But I’ve also learned that the perfect length is where I can pull it back into a ponytail if it gets too bad.

All of this is to say I don’t quite get why hair is a racial issue. My hair has been a hassle most of my life. If I could have hair that was easy to take care of, why wouldn’t I want that? I never wanted straight hair because that’s what all the models and movie stars had. I just wanted straight hair so it wouldn’t hurt when I ran a brush through it. I’ve always figured that’s all anyone else would want as well.

This is my life, in flowchart form.

Here are some of my favorite pictures from Math & Jana’s wedding and reception:

Liz

Grandmom and Ben

James

Helena

Sunset on our way back to the hotel.

In case you can’t tell, that’s a bottle of Mountain Dew. It’s a long story.

Jana

Math and Jana

Congratulations to Math & Jana who are getting married today!

Happy Birthday Michael!

I really hope you like your birthday present, since I came up with the idea more than a year ago.

No pressure!

Here are two pictures taken with my new camera yesterday.

Generally, pictures I take of people don’t turn out well, but I like these alright.

Happy Birthday to my baby brother, Brian. I may be older, but you’re more respectable!

And Happy Birthday also to Gina. Happy Birthday wife! Hope you get chocolate for your birthday!

Grandmom: I don’t want to go out! My hair looks terrible!
Michelle: It looks fine!
Grandmom: No it doesn’t! It’s too long!
Michelle: Well call and schedule a haircut!
Grandmom: I don’t want to take up your weekend with things like that.

(sigh)

Michelle: You didn’t have to do that.
Grandmom. I know I didn’t. The only thing I have to do is pay taxes and die.
Michael: You don’t even pay any taxes!

Today has been busy in a rather boring way. The biggest excitement was getting “Furminator” for Kat and taking him outside for a good brushing. I highly recommend the Furminator for cats if you have a cat with a thick coat. Kit’s fur is thin and fine, so the tool won’t be going near her, but Kat has a very thick coat and sheds like nobody’s business.

Otherwise, we spent four hours getting lunch and running errands with Grandmom. No gardening done yet–perhaps around six or so. Or perhaps I’ll just nap.

If you desperately want something to read, I do have two new book reviews up.

Hope your Saturday has been pleasant.