The Working Mom by Kay Luna

Hello! How are you all doing?

Things are getting somewhat back to normal for me, now that the funeral for my Granddad is behind us. Grandma (age 90) is lonely and misses Granddad, but seems to be handling it OK so far. I expect we’ll be spending some extra time with her in the coming weeks, to help her ease into this major life change.

People have been asking about how delivering the eulogy went. It went fine, after I got over the first few minutes of speechlessness at the podium (I couldn’t believe it — I couldn’t speak. It was a first for me. haha!). When I got myself together, I delivered it just fine, only getting choked up a couple more times before I was done. Several people said that was the best, most personal part of the funeral, so I’m happy I did it. But, boy, was it tough.

Today was the first day in a week that Babycakes has gone to daycare, and the sitter (who we love dearly) said she looks like she’s grown an inch since she’s been gone. She was preoccupied when I dropped her off and left, so I didn’t see her crying … I hope she’s doing OK today.

This has been a rough time for her, too — she doesn’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure she senses the disruption and sadness in our family.

But back to me (haha!) — In an effort to feel silly and have fun again, I’ll be getting back to my ballroom dancing lessons this afternoon. I hope I remember my steps! (Read more about this on my other QCTimes blog, “Q-C Dancing with the Stars.”)

Well, it’s been quite a strange few days, in the aftermath of my Granddad’s death last Thursday. But things are starting to settle down some, and getting a little more normal — working on Memorial Day helped some, to get back into my routine a little.

Visitation and funeral is set for Wednesday, and since I’m the writer in the family, I’ve been asked to write and deliver the eulogy. That will be tough. But I’ve got it written, and I’ve been practicing at home, trying not to cry when I say it. Hopefully by Wednesday, I’ll be a pro at it.

One good thing is that we’ve got Babycakes around as entertainment for my Grandma, who adores her (and who wouldn’t? ha!). She has been so sweet with Grandma, and seems to sense the sadness, because she is hugging and kissing her a lot more than usual.

And, a funny thing happened that Granddad would have appreciated. We were coming home from a day of funeral planning and checking out plots at the cemetery, and happened upon a seatbelt enforcement stop, where law enforcement were stopping cars. I wasn’t worried — we ALWAYS wear seatbelts, especially Grandma, who used to harp at Granddad to put his on and tell him, “You CAN’T just hold it across you, Sport.”

Well, I about passed out when I turned to glance at Grandma, and my gosh, she DIDN’T HAVE HER SEATBELT ON. For some reason, she must have taken it off, probably at the cemetery when she was leaning out of the door to look at Granddad’s plot. It never occurred to me to check her before then, and she looked like she could cry when she realized what she’d done.

We rolled to a stop, and the deputy there bellowed into the open window, “You can’t just hold it across you!”

Not feeling like messing around (and operating on little sleep and high levels of stress), I leaned back across the window and explained in detail what Grandma had been going through, assuring him that she absolutely valued the use of a seatbelt, but was in unusual circumstances that made her forget.

He promptly apologized and let us go on our way (after she put on her seatbelt). She was still flustered for a little bit, until I pointed out how funny it was that SHE would be the one in trouble for a lack of seatbelt, and wouldn’t Granddad get a kick out that, etc. It was sort of a nice way to make us laugh again.

I’ll be out of the office for the next couple of days, but I hope to talk to you again — about much happier things — on Thursday when I return. Thanks again for your kindness.

My Granddad is dying. Right now, as I type this, he is taking shallow, shallow breaths in a hospice bed at the hospital.

My poor Mom is sitting with him, all by herself, watching him die.

And I’m at work, as much as I don’t want to be. This is an example of one of the horrible things about being a working parent.

I haven’t seen the baby in days, it seems. Not since Sunday morning, when Mom called to say Granddad had fallen down and fractured his skull. He had bleeding in the brain, which got progressively worse in the past few days in the hospital.

He went from fighting to get out of bed, begging for his pants to be put back on, asking for his wife — to this.

I worked Monday — when he still could talk and we thought he was going to get better — and part of the day yesterday, until he went into a coma-like state and organ failure. We made the very sad decision to take him off the machines.

I stayed overnight at the hospital, laying sideways on a small loveseat with my legs draped over a folding chair, listening to the hum of late-night TV and my Granddad’s shallow breathing … and then an occasional gasp, then quiet. Then, soft breathing again.

My Mom is trying not to fall to pieces yet, for the sake of her own Mom, who has been married to Granddad for almost 71 years. So, she cries quietly now and then for her Daddy, who she wouldn’t even recognize now. All of his spunk, all of her personality, all of his recognition of any stimulus, is gone.

So here I am, trying not to cry from frustration, sadness and exhaustion.

Welcome to the new week. What’s up with you?

Did you read the ever-popular, 25-year-old childbirth “bible” when you were pregnant — the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book? I sure did, both times (and the first time was way back in 1992).

This last time, I remember thinking the book was a little outdated. Well, apparently, it’s not anymore.

Just look at the new cover of the revised edition. She’s standing up, wearing jeans, showing off her belly. She’s literally “off her rocker!” The old version (first written in 1984) showed a tired mom sitting in a rocking chair, and if I remember right, she was wearing a robe or something — looking a little fragile. That certainly doesn’t fit me as a mom (and a working one, at that), does it you?

The changes don’t stop there. Now, according to a Chicago Sun-Times article about the book, “moms can get advice on such 21st century dilemmas as how to manage a pregnancy with an eating disorder, whether it’s safe to enhance your glow in a tanning bed (nope) and whether you can nurse with a nipple ring (you probably can, though the ring might have to go into your jewelry box for the duration). It also has a brand-new chapter on multiples, twins, triplets and beyond.”

OK, who would go to a tanning bed pregnant? And let’s not talk about the nipple ring … Regardless, this version does sound like a much better fit for modern moms, don’t you agree? What chapters/questions would you add if you were the author?

Is the baby playing me? I mean, 16 months old isn’t too young to start the manipulation game, right?!

She woke up, wailing for Mommy, several times throughout the night last night. I swear, I think I was in her room more than I was in my own room last night.

Consistently, she never, ever calls for Daddy from her crib. She always makes a pathetic sounding cry and says, very clearly, “Mama! Mommy!” The sound about kills me, and I, of course, usually spring up to see what’s wrong … even when I’m dead tired.

The minute I pick her up, she slumps over, clearly tired … but apparently just wants to be with me. It’s sweet, yes. But it’s also exhausting to lose out on so much sleep (for both of us).

And she cries like I’m torturing her when I drop her off at daycare (where she has lots of fun!) in the mornings … but little did she know I stopped at the top of the stairs yesterday, listening to her emotional blowout.

She cried when she saw me go upstairs, and maybe for 30 seconds more, and then the crying stopped. Absolutely stopped. I smiled, laughing to myself, as I stood there listening to her settle right down.

I slipped out the front door, with a spring in my step, guilt-free.

Don’t you think it’s developmentally AMAZING what these little creatures know how to do, instinctively, in an effort to make us love them and want to take care of them? In that light, I very much admire her smarts.

But I would love her anyway. And, I will love her forever, no matter how old and mouthy she gets — even when she thinks I’m just an old, dumb Mom (remember, I am the mother of a teenager, too! I’m a realist!).

And someday, I know I will miss those special times of listening to her quiet breathing in the middle of the night, smelling her sweet baby hair on the pillow next to me. And I will dearly miss hearing her calling for me, needing me. Because soon enough, sooner than I’ll be ready for, she will decide she doesn’t need me anymore.

And it won’t matter that I woke up late because I was so tired, and had to rush around to get ready for work. I won’t even care if I made it to work that day.

What will matter is my little Babycakes, who won’t be a baby anymore.

Know what I’m talking about?

My daughter usually sleeps (mostly) through the night now. But she occasionally wakes up briefly sometime between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m., and I’m guessing it’s because of a very wet diaper (and yes, I know, if only I could break her from the bottle at bedtime … we’re just not ready yet. And yes, I said “we.” I know I enable her. ha!).

Anyway … She ended up sleeping ALL NIGHT LONG last night, which is wonderful, right?! It’s been so long that I got to sleep a full night, uninterrupted.

But instead of happily sleeping through the night, it was ME who was up several times instead of her. I kept thinking I heard her, but didn’t … and then wondered why she was so quiet, and if she was OK … so I found myself awake at 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. and again at 5 a.m. before my alarm went off at 6 a.m. What the heck?!

Strangely enough, after spending the past 16 months-plus with little sleep, I feel more rested when I have interrupted sleep — which I’ve become used to — than when I sleep all night.

Anyone know why that would be? And how do I change it?

Our daycare provider (who is like a second Mommy to my Babycakes) made sure all of the kids who go to her house each day had something special to give their Moms for Mother’s Day.

She and her own daughter painstakingly traced each child’s hand on construction paper, making personalized art projects that said (at least, on mine), “This is the hand you held when I was 1 year old.”

They also helped the kids paint little rocks to look like turtles. So cute. Her thoughtfulness meant a whole lot to me, and I’m sure it’s rubbing off on the kids, too.

I still remember some of the sweet gifts my Z (now 16) used to give me for Mother’s Day when he was little — including a handmade card on which he wrote what I thought said, “You are a dam (sic) good Mom.” It actually said “darn,” but the letters were so close together that it looked like the naughty word … which gave me quite a surprise, and a very big laugh.

What did your kids do for you for Mother’s Day?

P.S. For those of you looking for my ballroom dancing blog, please go to qctimes.com/blogs and click on “Q-C Dancing with the Stars.” That’s where I’ve been writing about my (hilarious) process of learning how to dance the jive. Someone mentioned they were having trouble finding it, so here you go.

This is one of those forwarded e-mails we all get (and usually just delete), but this one is very sweet … and very appropriate for Mother’s Day weekend.

I see myself in a lot of the verses — particularly the one that says when you hear someone say “Mom” in a crowd, you automatically look. I still think I hear my Z calling my name sometimes.

And my own Mom tells me she still wants to reach out and pick up the little girls she sees sometimes with curly brown hair, thinking for a second they are me … until she realizes I’m a 33-year-old woman, not a 3-year-old girl anymore.

Remember that song from back in the day, called “Reunited?” I had to look it up online — the duo Peaches and Herb sang it.

Reunited and it feels so good
Reunited ’cause we understood
There’s one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited
‘Cause we’re reunited, hey, hey

I woke up thinking about that song today … I know, bizarre, huh?! haha! Well, little Miss Babycakes is home from Gma’s, so that inspired me.

My husband picked her up last night, but I attended a Women’s Connection meeting after work and didn’t get home until 9 p.m. She usually is getting sleepy by then. But she woke right up when she saw Mommy, and wanted to stay up until 10:30 or 11 p.m., asking me to read book after book after book to her. And I did.

When she woke up this morning, she reached up and kissed my face a few times without any prompting from me.

Then, things got rough again when I took her to the sitter’s house. She sincerely cried like she was sad, with big alligator tears, and I felt horrible. I hugged her and reassured her, and then kissed her good-bye and left. Ugh.

Can’t wait for the weekend.