I understand that your mom and dad are ready to come back here right now.  They are getting ready to move with no job, no place to live, and accept my offer of child care. I am very eager to see you and rushing like a maniac to clean out the closets and cupboards to move out of here and get into your new old house.  I need about three weeks with work, travel and meetings.  I need to give Jim time to finish and set up a bed for your daddy in my storage area above the garage.  It’s not good for a baby.  It’s chilly and has no water.  Lights and a bed.  It’s supposed to be uncomfortable, so he sets up the family dwelling.  I’m being vague about your home-to-be.  I looked for a Yurt; no luck.  I found a tent, a bit small, so adding another tent, makes a nice two room place to live.  It has a floor, for a bug free sleep.  A real bed for each of you, a stove and a sink, a wood stove and a potty area that explodes your poo into flame.  Its called an incinolet.  Mommy will have to watch you closely near that!  I floated the idea by them. Maybe. They seem up to the adventure! We’ll see.

I can come get you on Saturday, the 17th.  Does that work for you and daddy?  Daddy will stay until he goes through all your things and chooses what to bring in the car.  Then he drives out here and looks for work, sets up the tent village and goes to get mommy.  (Unless he gets a job from Montana and has one when he gets here).  A lot for your parents, too much?

Would you bring your train?  We can set it up and play with it.  Okay?  Well, here I go into the pantry shelves.  How many jars of almond butter does a person really need? Bye Buddy, gma

One time you had maggots in your diaper.  I’ll never forget that.  I wondered how many other times that had happened, how many other times you had such a bad rash that your red and burned skin peeled off as I opened your diaper then I cried as I dabbed at the bleeding tissue.  I wanted to take the hurt, the burn and carefully touched you softly into the baby tub in lukewarm water.  You found a smile as I softly sang a Vicki song.  You amazed me with the way you’d make it through. You learned to believe that my tender treatment could lessen the pain. You learned to trust me.

Trust me now when I say that Grandpa and I will do whatever we can to help you find a life here again in CA-one in which you will be loved deeply and find safety.  I am very sad tonight, worried and full of doubt.  When I awaken, I will probably see things differently.  But for today, I am feeling your pain again and sick with the knowing- the frustration that Mommy and Daddy bring along with them is really, really hard for us.  Looking for what might be; I’ll save for tomorrow.  Today I need to remember really well; walk through what’s hard and what sucks and open my eyes to who your parents really are.

Pardon me, little Buddy, while I turn away for some alone time.  Be back tomorrow.  Happy Easter, hope you and your cousins enjoy the package I sent.  gma

You are coming back.  Your mommy told me.  She said I should come and get you and Liza so she and daddy can pack up to drive.  Slow down, Mommy.

Now I sure am full of feelings.  The kind that jump, swirl, stick in the crooks of my neck and lodge in my spine. They push out my eyes and make my hands tight, lips pull in and my whole frame gets paced around the room this way and then that.  These are the kind that are hard to sort out because they come all in a sticky mass, like my favorite Trader Joe’s cranberry, almond, cashew mix.  I just have to swallow all together.  I must tell you first and best, that Grandpa and I are thrilled (there’s a cashew for you plucked from the mass) that you are coming back.  We will get to see you, assure ourselves that you and baby sissy are okay (She’s an almond pulled free).

Daddy and Mommy need to get better too. I’m not good at imagining that you are okay.  I have been called too concrete and literal (need to touch and feel things, take it all for what is said rather than what is meant) that’s a problem with being far away and you being unobservable. I don’t need to check behind your ears or anything, (maybe later, but not at first) but I am just sure that Liza needs her diaper changed, a bath and her bottle washed out.  I know it.

I am  a mother dog whose puppies have been given away-restlessly sniffing about, licking any feet that come near and laying close to her master for comfort.

Of course, you and I will finally be able to play, laugh and talk about things; like before.  And I’ll get to know your sister.  Those are the good parts. But, I don’t feel like celebrating quite yet.  Its that sticky mass of other feelings still gagging me.  Right now its sitting between my shoulders, like a headache or pack of stones, too weighty to manage.

How can Mommy and Daddy afford to move back?  Where will daddy work? We will help. But help them do what?  They have to bring a plan. Where will you guys live?  I looked at rents, even if we pay half, or all, a two bedroom place is over $1400. And even if we pay that, what will mommy do? Where will it be?  I want to check you each day.  That’s what I did before you left and many days it was a good thing. You needed help.  So did mommy.  I think I’ll ask mommy and daddy for a better plan.  I want to hear them talk about it to me and what they imagine.  Then I will discuss my questions.  I don’t want them to change their minds.  I just want them to plan better for some parts of it.  Oh, dear.  Its in my tummy.  I used to get bad tummy aches when you were a baby.  One is coming again.  I sometimes feel worry in there.  I feel responsibility and lack of air.  I am sick with it.

We are happy you will be here. Maybe in a month, tell mommy.  After there is a better plan.  After some time passes and some of the sticky things get teased apart and looked at separately, will we all relax into the idea. Teach me. We’ll see each other pretty soon. love and warm baths, gma

I think of you as I consider moving out of our little house that we have lived in your whole life.  To do our remodel this summer, (fix up some yucky parts, and make some beautiful new parts) we have to move out and live in your “new, old house” as you call it.  It may be odd to you, and it might be unsettling, but wait til you see the upstairs of the garage where all of our things will be stored!  I have toys, art, lamps, pictures and decorations and stuff…, UGH too much of that. Grandpa put up an electric winch with a box hooked to ropes, so I don’t have to carry heavy things up and down the stairs.  You’d like it.  If you were here I’d have you operate it for me.  But I’d tell you never to get in it and take a ride. That wouldn’t be safe, and probably not fun either.  I just started the real move yesterday, because the stairs were installed this week.  (Can you see grandpa standing there?) I expect to take almost all of April.I’ll show you the new old house pictures another day. We painted it golden, sage and blue with creamy trim.  Jim’s woodwork looks so good!

But for today all I can think about is stuff that has to be moved and that you and your family might come back to Santa Cruz.  I am waiting to hear how that came to be, if it’s true and when it might happen.  I did suggest that you and daddy come in the car, find a job and rental (because we will be living in the one you used to live in) and then have daddy go back to get Ellie and Mommy.  I can hardly wait to see Liza; just look at her and of course hold her and play with her, too.  Maybe your mommy will get a job or go to school and I will have you and Liza up here for a couple of days a week.  I think I’d like that. I hope Mommy sees that as helpful.

Today I was working hard, sorting and packing, but got tired of the hard work it takes to choose what to keep, sell, donate and toss away. I have three rooms to use; the guest bedroom will be for donations, AJ’s old room will be for things that we are packing to put into the garage and the library will stay empty. Trash and unwanted junky things will be tossed right away.  But then there’s the unpacked items that we will take to the rental.  Those are last.  I have a great plan.

But I get in the way of it. I intrude in my own progress.  Not my brain-I love sorting and cleaning; it’s the emotional me.  Not “memory lane” I don’t think, but something makes me put things in boxes, nice and tidy, (mindlessly) even if I haven’t used it in two years. That’s my rule. If I haven’t seen it or used it in two years-then, bye-bye.  For some reason that is not working. I think my secret trick is to take breaks.  Take breaks and talk to you or read a book or nap.  So I stay conscious and intentional.  Kind of like when I used to read student papers and somehow I’d read and not take it in, I’d grade and not use my rubric, or whatever, anyway….  Staying attentive is the only way I can be successful. There’s a lesson here, but it’s for me right now and I’ll re-calibrate it for you later.  I’m going back to sort all my holiday items. ugh

I love you, gma

I called to say hi and you were asleep.  It was nearly noon your time and you already had slept 15 hours.  Mommy said you were just sleepy.  That is worrisome. Are you okay?  Mommy was tense and worried about Daddy.  She is worried about what to do.  She wants to find a house, a job and wishes she could grow new teeth.  She sounded tired of not deciding.

Deciding is a positive thing, I told Mommy this morning.  It can relieve tension that builds and colors your mood, thinking and reactions. During times when the dark , worrisome cloud of “not knowing” lurks overhead and underfoot, every moment; people get cranky. Daddy is particularly cranky, Mommy says, your trailer grandma is cranky and so mommy is, too.  How about you? Indecisiveness leaves us anxious, powerless and spreads like stinky air touching everything and everyone nearby. Simply making a decision can relieve us.

Your Mommy has been busy with two children under 3, you and Liza, her mom, her brother, his kids, his girlfriend, trailer life in a Billings winter and extraction after extraction of unhealthy teeth.  She has five left before dentures. She is busy, occupied, yet still remains hopeful.  Daddy is working now, but he says that he is unhappy every day.

Do you find some fun anyway? I think mommy is not realistic in her expectations.  I don’t see you guys getting a rental there that will be a successful.  Mommy and daddy can’t pay rent every month.  They never have kept that agreement.  This is hard grown up stuff, but you should know that mommy and daddy aren’t very grown up about these kind of things yet. That’s why you live with that Grandma after this Grandma.  They need help to keep you all safe and well. They need one of their mommies or the other; probably both.  I think Mommy would feel better if she and Daddy would make a decision. And an agreement and keep it.

In figuring out that decision, mommy and daddy would have to talk about their dreams, their ideas about how to reach them together and how to raise you guys in the way they envision.  Do they want to rent a place in Montana or try California again.  They haven’t agreed yet, so they can’t decide.  But the talking about their ideas and preferences, deadlines on the calendar or turning points in events, they will be better able to decide.  I think each of them already decided inside their heads.  (Behind their eyes, like you said). I cannot decide for them, but I think I helped mommy understand her part in setting up the conversation.  I think she expects more of your Daddy than he has to offer in terms of sharing his feelings and ideas.

Counselors are people that help with this kind of thing.  You tell them this, maybe they will go.  Actually, I think Mommy is more ready to begin the talk with Daddy.  I imagine in the next few days I will hear about it.   You trailer grandma has had it.  Actually, I don’t know how she tolerates all that goes on everyday.  I couldn’t do it.  I’d have to decide some hard things if I were her. But I am grateful that she is tolerant for a while longer, so daddy doesn’t get his family “booted out” before he’s ready to take charge.  That’s what I hope happens.  Make them stronger. It would be good for you and Liza.  Even if its hard for one of your Grandma’s-her or me.

You know what I am rooting for, right? Both of us win if you are safe, developing and find joy each day.  Not too much to ask, right?

As for me, I am supposed to be working to clean out the entire house and move out….and after talking to Mommy, I realized I was stuck -unable to begin.  So I called Rocky to help.  He and his brother will arrive on Sunday, take whatever I ask to the garage, out to the barn or to the trash.  I will have him come once a week every week until I am done.  Now that’s the plan.  I am so relieved I made a decision.  I feel in charge! (and charged with being ready for Rocky) We’ll see how it goes…I’ll get back to you later.  love gma

You tell me on the phone, after Nathaniel grabbed it away, you screamed and sobbed practicing the lines I provided, “I am talking to my Grandma right now.  Please move back.  I want some privacy.” “Privacy” you say again in a loud voice. Gulp, gasp, cough. The phone is interesting to Nathaniel.  You are.

I want to come there and see my grandpa ,okay? On the airplane, please. That would be fun.  Maybe after awhile.  Awhile?  Then you tell me Liza’s crying.  I kiss her, you say. After a few minutes of talking about Liza and Georgia, I ask to talk to daddy.

He started his new job today.  I tell him I want to see you.  Bring you here again. He says when?  I have so much to do for work for this month.  We have to wait a bit. Unless daddy doesn’t stay there and he drives you out in the car. Maybe, he says.

I want to be your stuffed monkey.  You snuggle into your neck, along the edges of your face and push up to your nose. You’d tuck me under one arm and carry me around. My heart squeezed there warm, floppy, precarious.

I miss you, Buddy. gma

Daddy starts at Home Depot this week 40 hours a week, he says.  That means you’ll be with mommy a lot.  I reminded daddy to find you daycare program so you could play a couple of times a week with kids and get out of the house. It’s free, mommy told me, they just have to sign up.  I told him it would be good for mommy, too.  With daddy focused on a new job, I worry about you.  Last week your mommy told me she doesn’t know you.  She isn’t close, she said, to you like she is to Liza. “I just don’t understand how he operates,” she complained, with an impressive amount of self-awareness.  I heard a call for help.  The root of the behavior issues are here.  Mommy needs to witness someone adoring you.  I’ll do that.  But she has to see me.  Not hear about it. Maybe a good teacher in Billings could fall for you.  Can we find one?  I’ll work on it.  I love you, buddy.  And I totally get you.  gma

Each morning I sit with freshly brewed coffee, a blanket piled on my lap, then Metro and the remote TV controller.  Georgia has her snout propped on my ankles and I stare at DIY shows.  Kitchens shiny with stainless, granite, toilets with warm seats that automatically lift, yards transformed in a day to take us to Bali or Arizona, if you prefer. I sit passively as they dig, hammer, drag and construct.  Waking up, getting ready for work.  Sometimes I sit that way for an hour.  Refilling my coffee, Metro rolls to one side, still asleep, and Georgia pads into the kitchen with me and returns nose snapped to my thigh. Metro and I resettle, Georgia hops up and I look for this particular day to unfold.  Grandpa sleeps through it all. Today I told him this hour used to be my favorite part of each day.  It started when Mia was ill.  After she died, I needed comforting for a long while, and without her warming my lap, at the start of each day, Metro filled in. But, I told Grandpa today, this isn’t my favorite thing anymore.  It’s when you’d join us. Grandpa, told me that he didn’t ever see this happen.  He was sleeping.

I’d hear a click of the guest bedroom door and you’d dash out, running at full speed pounding along the carpeted hall. “I up!” you’d exclaim.  And clamor up my legs into the blanket, fur, claws and wet noses to join us. I pull the covers up, roll Metro to the side, hold each of your small feet in my hands to warm them (warm me) gather up your legs and inhale the scent of your hair, cheek and neck. This is my favorite, most delicious and wonderful time.  I long for it.  Grandpa and I said this morning that we hope  someone in your little trailer home enjoys this moment with you each morning.  Grandpa went back into the bedroom, came out running and called, “I up.”  He makes us happy, too. Doesn’t he? gma

Today is a rainy day.  I pulled up my hood to stand outside on the driveway and watch Geoff from next door pull out the snaggled branches from the downed pine tree.  He cut the tree, dropped it across the driveway and hauled out a few truckloads of green debris yesterday. Today is clean-up and tonight a burn pile.  He’ll have a burn party with appetizers and wine. Parts of the tree snapped off some fir branches on an ancient and lovely tree as it fell.  It was bound to happen. The lower branches need to be removed anyway, don’t they?

But the beautiful, spreading, lightly-framed ceanothus in full bloom stands arms spread wide, untouched in its indigo splendor. The empty space where the tree stood just yesterday noon confuses me each time I step outside.  Like when daddy shaved off his mustache and you knew something was different.  Its a thing gone.  Like every day you are gone and I don’t see you gone.  I feel it. Something that you don’t see is different than something new to notice (like when you came to visit after a long time gone).  Remember last week when you and I walked into the garden, the same garden that I’d been checking on a regular basis for months-Hey, you said, where’s the birdies water? The birdbath had tipped over in the soft, damp earth. We picked it up, placed it upright and you swished it clean and added fresh water while I propped it with a hand-built foundation of salvaged bricks and stones.  There, you said.  And looked back to check it. Come on birdies.  I saw birds in it yesterday.

My fruit trees bloom in the same sequence each season, reminding us that harvest time is near as we watch and count the blossoms on the youngest of our trees.  First the almonds, closely followed by the apricots and plums and cherries then nectarines and finally later in March the pears and apples begin. This will be a good year for apricots and plums, I tell you.  So come back to visit in June and July. The almonds come early and often lose blooms in the hard rains of March. Did you know that the clipped branches, called “pruned” twigs and branches of these trees can be brought in to flower in a water jar on the table? I had to tell Salvador not to toss them into the green-waste pile.  He was so pleased when he saw them opening and fragrant in my warm sunny kitchen. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

Today I noticed that the lemon tree has been damaged as it has been every year around this time.  I asked my friend and yours, “Guy Jim”, and he says that rats love citrus leaves.  I can see where the leaves and small branches have been snipped right off. 6 ft. fencing around the garden perimeter protects it from deer. Rabbits can’t reach as high as the chewing has occurred, so I think Guy Jim is right! Maybe I can put something snaggly on the ground, something sticky and gooey on the trunks or maybe I’ll have to get some electronic device-like a motion-activated sprinkler. What do you think I should do?  We have to protect our lemons and limes and oranges and the beautiful leaves that are useful to protect the fruit.

I think its funny to think about the rats coming into the garden at night, sneaking toward my trees and getting surprised by a sprinkler!  They’d drag their little drenched, furry bodies away, tail sticky with mud, back into the brush.  They’d work for hours licking themselves clean, fluffing dry and building up their courage before trying it again. How many times will it take before they stop trying?  Hmm. Maybe they’d get swim pants on and play in the water, dance and sing and hide whern the sun comes out again.  I’d better go set up a video camera and wait.  You tube, here we come; Grandma and the Rats.

On second thought, maybe those rats can have the lower leaves and I’ll try some tree netting on the upper part!  We’ll share the trees!  Like we did last year and all the years before. Sharing is good.  Isn’t it little buddy, even if you are sharing with rats! gma

Your bright blue kid-sized teapot sits in front of you, steaming with chamomile tea, a miniature cup pinched in your fingers. MMM, you close your eyes and sip. Can my friend have some? Sure I say, handing you a cup.  No grandma, its pwetend, you explain.  Oh, I get it, and hand you nothing.  Thank you.  And you slide a pretend cup to your nobody.  Does she like it?  Its a guy, grandma. And he doesn’t have tea yet.  Oh.  I wait for a pretend pour, but you pick up the small pot, pour til empty, all over the table, the floor then look at me. Hey, I say, that was real tea.  No, its real spilling, though. You explain.  And we wipe it up with a real towel or two.