I remember the days that Veda lived in this little Chariot. Now she doesn't fit in it and there is this little boy who has taken her seat.

His first bike ride which ended with his first ice cream cone.

There were some interesting moments... when the Chariot came disconnected from my bike and I had to stop and try to figure it out by the side of the road. The passerby's must have found it hilarious!!

I love my kids!!

Photo update

Cute little bum...

They love eachother so much that it makes me sick.

Piano Man. Trying to be like his sister.

Hide and Seek...

So if you were an urn where would you hide? I continued to find humor in it yesterday but was ready to make sure he really wasn't missing. When I got home I asked V to go and look again in her room to see if she could find Daddy Tad's box. She went up and searched for a bit and came down holding his urn (which if you haven't held one.. they are VERY heavy. They have to be lead lined.)

"Where did you find him... it?" I asked.

"It was behind my chair on the the floor."

So that's where you hide if you are an urn... On the floor behind a chair. The same place you hide if you are a "hydrated body".

Now to find a new place to put "the urn". Veda doesn't want him in her room anymore. So for now, he/it sits on the table upstairs in the library. The mantel is just such an awkward place.

Umm... he's missing.

So I just went to put Veda to bed and realized that Tad is missing. Not him exactly- his ashes... Where do you think he would be? Where would a 7 year old put the remains of her bio-dad? I have to find humor in this.

An apple a day...

That stupid F****ng GRIEF BITCH!

My friend "A" and I call our grief leaks "THE GRIEF BITCH". (We decided yesterday that we need to write a book about her...) Anyway she hit me smack in the face yesterday. Not like a light slap. It was a cold hard punch- with metal knuckles... I went to a Memorial service of a family friend (okay, more than a family friend. I have known this man since I was 8. He was the closest thing to peace and love that I knew. He was also a Bishop and was known around the world. And I was lucky enough to share numerous years with him, Thanksgiving dinners and just love him.).

His service was nice. It was held in my "hometown" college chapel. Let me preface this by saying this is where Tad and I were married. The Bishop was at our wedding and actually did a blessing for us during the ceremony. The man who spoke at the service yesterday was the man who actually married Tad and me.

I had not been in that building since the wedding. I had to walk into the basement to go to the bathroom. WOW. It was exactly the way I remembered it. And to be honest I have not thought about that space since the wedding. I haven't given it much thought at all. All of those people there- some were there again to celebrate the Bishop's life.

And then, at the end of the service (like it hadn't been hard enough) low and behold I hear bagpipes begin to play. I turned to my mom and I said "Oh Jesus, you have to be kidding..." The tears flowed. See the town I grew up in was called "Scotland USA" and we always had a Scottish festival each year. Each time I hear bagpipes I am thrown back to being an excited little girl sitting on my front porch eating bagels and Ramen noodles with my friend AM. We would wait for the big weekend and then go to the parade. Bagpipes mean home for me. UGH.

I knew going to "hometown" that it would be tough. I didn't know how tough. I was only going to grieve the Bishop... then GRIEF BITCH brought Tad along. And to top it off I have not been back to said "hometown" since my parents moved. I drove past MY old house (someone had ripped all of my great grandmother's flowers out and replaced them with bushes! Ornamental bushes! Ugly!) and had the reminiscent drive by MY old neighborhood. MY neighbors weren't there- now they live in Chicago. There was a strange little boy playing in THEIR yard! This was such a cathartic trip for me. And sorry to "A" and my sister who got a brunt of it on the way home. Thank goodness for cell phones. But I still have a headache from yesterday's visit from the GRIEF BITCH. (Although it may be my sinus's- unclear on this one.)

Fooey on that GRIEF BITCH. I am glad that her visit is done.

I woke up this morning to the sound of my handsome (somewhat crippled) husband snoring and my babies babbles through the monitor. Although I hate snoring... today there was no better sound.

Thankful for a new week.

Mr. DeVil comin' to get ya!!