A sweet little lady for a sweet little lady

This girl turned out perfect. 

For baby Sage, my best dolly yet. 

I think I am ready to work on this little dolly business. 

I am ready to start a little shop. 

I know that it will take time, but I will work hard.

I need to stop making excuses. 

I need to just jump in.

little glimpses

We've been frequenting the library. We are a spectacle, always too loud and too rowdy. I find myself chasing hazel through the aisles replacing the books she pulls off of the shelves, trying my best to keep her quiet. She knows just where the Curious George videos are. When we are ready to go, Hazel insists on handing the librarian my card, and then one by one, each of the books and videos. They all think she is very sweet.

It has been chilly in recent days, but we have spent the last month or two going to every single park around. Some days two. I have been watching some boys for my friend, and when I have them I have to get out. It isnot easy to entertain three kids of varying ages in my home that is well equipped only for Hazel, and so to the park we go. Hazel's Toms shoes finally fit her. I have been waiting for months! Oh, and H is on the big-kid swings now. Well, only when there aren't baby swings available. Honestly she has taken some pretty gnarly tumbles off of those big-kid swings, and I m hesitant to continue using them, but she can't resist them, and it's not worth arguing with this kid. At 18 months, she knows exactly how to get her way. every. single. time. My hands are full. So is my heart. I guess that's what matters.

Oh Man. I have been so over blogging lately. I try. I write a draft. It just sits there, never to be posted. I have been over most things really, except for thing that make me feel like the old me.

 Sometimes I miss that old me SO MUCH! I want to go to parties, get silly drunk, and crash at a friend's place. I want to have the entire day to tear apart and repaint, reorganize, and redecorate a room. I want to go shopping alone, and not have to chase a rowdy toddler around the store, under clothing racks, and hope she doesn't break anything.

But, that's all part of the deal. I would never give up Hazel for that stuff, but that doesn't mean I can't miss it.

The mountains are beautiful. The mountains are lonely. I've said that before. It's still very true. Spending times with my friends in the valley only makes me feel it more. The place I live and love is so far away from the people I love. Its a bummer.

This little girl is really getting big. She does the sweetest things, and despite all of our shortcomings as parents, she really really loves us. She is so silly and happy in the mornings to wake up and play with us. She loves to yell "Daddy" when she can hear him upstairs, or she can see him from our deck outside. She also gives lots of kisses. She is great at climbing the ladder from the bedroom to the living room. In other words, she is Badass.

also, I got instagram. I'm pretty sure all of the 8 people who read my blog already know that. @mydearhazel

The view from my bedroom window on the morning of my grandfather's death

I awoke to Mike hovering over our bed where Hazel and I slept soundly. He seemed uneasy, not sure of what to say next. He quickly rested his hand on my shoulder and told me that my mother had texted him. My grandfather was gone.

This was not unexpected. We had been informed that his health was deteriorating last week,and so we went to visit. Upon visiting him I had my doubts. My grandpa has had his bad days, but he always springs back, and he didn't seem drastically different from the man I saw only a month ago. Yet, there was this lingering feeling that this might be it, the last time I see him. Nevertheless, I told him I would be back to see him soon as I kissed him goodbye. Goodbye.... When I told him I loved him he held my arm tight, as he repeated the words back to me, and I saw a glimpse of fear flash through his eyes. He, like me, was aware that this could be it, and it seemed that he felt he had to make it count. He said I love you with a wide awake face, although he had been groggy all night. He caught me off guard, so I said it again. "I love you Grandpa. Hazel loves you. we will be back soon."

I wasn't sure why we went really, until that moment, and until now. I felt like we were keeping him up; burdening him. I had come to feel that way often, when we would visit and grandma would force him up out of bed to come sit with us momentarily, before he would doze off and request to be taken back to his room. We had arrived to find him surrounded by family. My oldest brother hooking up a television for him on the wall, my aunt and uncle who just arrived home from a mission, and lots of tiny great-grandchild faces,excited to see grandma and grandpa. Everyone was speaking to him slowly, as if he were a child. Telling them who they were. There was always recognition though, at least while I was there. He knew what was going on, which of his beloved family members was there to see him, and everything that they were saying. Now I know that we were anything but a burden. We were who he wanted to see. All of us. But then that moment when he grasped my arm and told me the thing I was there to hear him say, I knew why I came. To say goodbye, even if it might not be the last time. But it was.

The funny thing about losing someone you love dearly, but who is removed from your daily life is that, it just goes on. You still send your husband off to work, let the dogs out, make breakfast. You still sweep the floor. You still nurse your child, and post photos to instagram. And then you start to wonder, what difference did he make in my life? What difference did I make in his? But by the end of the day, when you are exhausted beyond any normal measure, you realize that just your knowledge of that person's existence is a part of you. The knowledge of their absence is also a part of you, and it is a draining knowledge. The what-ifs weigh heavily on my mind. Did I know him enough? Did I talk to him enough? What if there are things that went unsaid? Do I remember him when he was active and funny, when he used to pick me up, or tickle me, or is that all made up memories juxtaposed with stories I have heard from the memories of others into the man that I think he was? What could I have done to know this man more deeply? To understand him. Why even wonder these things? Should I try harder with my remaining grandparents, or is this simply how I will feel when each of my loved ones passes away before me. First my grandparents, then my own parents, someday most likely my own husband.

This is not the first death I have experienced, but it is the closest to my heart. A man who I assume I met on the very day I was born, who I have known for almost 24 years exactly, but who I feel I still know so little about. I suppose this is something I must prepare myself for over the coming years, but I can safely say it is not something I will ever get used to. Having someone who has always been there, who suddenly isn't. Just isn't.

Mary Kae, my mother, with her father William Lorenzo Perkins
on her baptism day