Jonah's many looks

Going to the beach house used to be a happy carefree event filled with too much food, too much booze and too much sun. This weekend was just too much sadness and a lot of not knowing what to do anyway. Gary's dad is dead and there is no trace of him anywhere and his mom can barely pull herself together to get up in the morning and I know I will be the same way. There is no way I can live without Gary.
We talked in to the late hours last night and we talked about the things we have to look forward to like Gary's mom getting older and sadder and John getting sicker and older and eventually dying and leaving my mom alone.
So depressing.
Nothing really makes it feel better.
I came home without the kids and Gary because I am on call today and I panicked because if I didn't get called out how would I fill my time?
So I cleaned all day and I am tired now, resting.
Life is really hard.
I found out my Aunt has breast cancer, another maternal relative with breast cancer, makes me think about me and my daughters, me and my daughters.
I think about Gary and my friends going through divorces and surgeries and some who have already left us.
I realize that these are the things that test faith and that even if I had all the faith in the world it would still suck.
I guess that is the biggest bummer.
I realize that I believe whole heartedly that those that have left us are somewhere else, happy somewhere but that doesn't make it easier for me. I want them here with me. I want to tell LJ to come back and stay here with us longer, maybe we could have helped more, and then maybe he would be alive.
I want to go back to Friendly's with my father in law and really listen to him ramble on about the democrats and Fox news and hold onto every word knowing that those would be the last words that I would hear from his mouth that didn't have to do with death or sickness or pain.
I want to go back to that night when he died and stay there holding on to his last few breaths and Gary's guitar talking in the background and just pitch a tent and wallow in my own sadness for as long as I damn well please.

Prom

Our pediatrician asked Molly two years ago when Molly left traditional schooling whether she would miss the important things, you know, like the prom. Molly and I had the closeness at this time to smile at the absurdity of this remark. Yesterday Molly went to a prom. We spent the day doing those things that moms do with their 16 year old daughters the day of the prom. We did nails and hair and got all ready.
I drove Molly to the boy's house. This is a friend of hers that she had a little relationship with at some point but that she had decided long ago was better as a friendship. I was not sure about the whole thing but I was sure that it was Molly's and this boy's decision to go to the prom together and that my job was to support her and help her along with anything she needed.
The day was really fun, she had a friend over who helped her do her make up and the kids got a real kick out of grown up Molly in her beautiful dress. She looked stunning.
We drove everyone over to the boy's home and he looked cute and his parents were excited and it was good.
Molly went off and the day seemed to go without a hitch.
I feel lucky that I understand that things like proms and weddings and graduations and performances are just time and space just like any other. They mark special occasions but they do not mark defining moments and they certainly are no more important than those laughing fits at the breakfast table or waking up on a Tues next to your best friend of 20 years.
Molly did not have the greatest time. In fact she was home early, she had gotten a ride home from a friend that was there.
I am not sure what exactly happened but I do know that there are two stories to every conflict and so I will not dwell on the content of what happened but more on what was important about this weekend for me personally.
When Molly got home she called me right away. I was out at work in the hospital and I stopped everything to talk to her. She is more important than my work.
We talked about the feelings around the night, the guilt she felt for leaving the boy and the remorse she felt at my having spent a lot of money on the event.
I told her that these were signs of growing up and that now all she could do was learn from the experience and move on.
I told her that it was worth every penny to see her dressed up, to spend the day with her getting ready and to have the opportunity to have this discussion.
I told her it was a pleasure to spend money on her and that I regretted nothing about the day and that I felt sorry that she was hurting but that I knew she would feel better in a few days.
This morning she felt better. She got up and took the train to Salem to meet up with a friend and that was that. There was no big tear fest because I think she had normal expectations around this event.
I am glad for this and proud of Molly.

April in our unschooled house

Unschooling in our house looks like building things with boxes, dressing up in fancy clothes and messing with gender roles, knitting, peeling carrots, playing music together as a family, riding bikes and hearing The Entertainer played by a friend and spending two weeks constantly playing it to master it. Sometimes it means sleeping in, today it meant getting up at 6am to watch another episode of The Brady Bunch which my children are currently hooked on. Today it means making meatballs together, building homes for our fairies, visiting Grammy and going to Lowell Mills.