March 20th

I promise this is the last not-so-funny post for awhile..But I think I get a free pass today. As most of you know, today is a very difficult day for me and my family, celebrating my father's passing....But I have some random thoughts I wanted to share, you take from them what you want..I just wanted to write, it's all I can do sometimes..

Last night I had a dream that we lost Coco..We were in a very large church and she slipped away out of sight, and no one could find her. I was inconsolable, I kept searching for her and she had simply disappeared. Everyone kept trying to console me, but I wouldn't have it. It was almost as if people wanted me to get over it, accept it, move on, she was gone..I kept explaining that they didn't understand, she was my whole world, if she was really gone, I was done..But, in my dream, I decided, that just looking under benches and in closets, wasn't enough, I would have to scream her name at the top of my lungs...So I did, and she skipped out of nowhere, looking at me like, "Mommy, I'm right here, why are you so upset?" After thinking about my dream today, it kind of hit me that I tend to do that in life..I feel like I am searching everywhere for things, and if I would just ask for help or call out a name, the answer would be right in front of my face..

That revelation leads me to my next thought....The day my dad died, I sang a song to him while he was in his hospital bed. It was a song he wrote called, "One in a Hundred." A song about the parable Jesus told, describing a Shepherd and His lost sheep. The song was fitting at the time, because it was a song I could remember all the words to, and it captured the moment..My dad was my Shepherd, and my dad was also one of God's sheep...I hoped it would bring him comfort in his time of suffering..It was difficult to sing, because of the strong emotions at the time, but I did it..Not to plug his music, cause that seems a little weird, but the song is available on itunes, the composer is listed as Concordia Publishing :-)

And a final random note..I was putting Lindsey to bed tonight, saying her prayers, and then she interrupted me with a couple of questions about Jesus.."Mama, where is Jesus?" "Where is Heaven?" So I tried to explain them the best I could, to a 3.5 year old..alluding to the skies yet acknowledging that He is all around us as well..She mentioned Papa John, without any prompting, and I mentioned that he was with Jesus now..Lindsey wanted to know how Papa John got up to heaven? I didn't have an answer...but luckily she answered her own question, "Jesus carried him there, didn't He?" Thank God she is more versed in theology than me..."Yes Baby, Jesus carried him there.." She then smiled and rested her head on her pillow....a few minutes later she asked, "Can Jesus carry dinosaurs up there?" I answered, "Of course He can, because he is just crazy strong like that." Lindsey Lane then fell fast asleep...She was able to comfort me as well tonight, and that's why she is a precious gift..

Good Night....

Things I think about when I can't sleep

I was slightly disappointed when the birth control patch was taken off of the market, not because I took it, but I knew of it's potential importance in my future..Last night was a perfect example as to why this patch could serve some purpose in this household..

So, just some minor background, for filler...The windows in our house are giving us a hard time right now...lots of leaking and moisture build up around the seal of these cheap windows = hot mess in our house..Windows are super expensive, in case you didn't know, so this is gonna be a really fun purchase. Anyhow, we had a fine young man come into our home last night to give us an estimate for replacing all of our windows...He was very nice, very polite, and even tolerated Ted's interrogations and bouts of laughter when he showed us the final estimated cost of the replacement windows ($52, 000). Ted made me write that for vindication purposes.

Someone else in my house thought he was very sweet and smoothe as well. Therefore, when it was time for Lindsey to give hugs and kisses before she headed up to bed, she whispered to me, "I kind of want to give him a kiss goodnight too." (pointing toward the window guy). I paused, shut my eyes, and said, "Honey, I don't think he would be ok with that, and I am actually kind of not ok with that either." She nodded, and I carried her up the stairs..I was hoping we were done.

Little girlfriend proceeded to cup my face and stare into my eyes and say, "Mom, he was very cute. I really like him." Um, what? Was she mesmerized by his knowledge of vinyl trim and his 100% satisfaction guarantee? Cause I kinda was, but I didn't want to ask him out on a date or anything. Then she says, "Is he sleeping here tonight?" Thoughts were racing through my head more rapidly than usual...."No baby, he is going home and sleeping in his bed." She was disappointed, but not nearly as much as I was...Damn you Ortho Patch, you were gonna be my answer..

My plan has always been, since I carried these little girls in my belly, that before they headed off to high school in the morning, I would just hug them, and then place the patch on their back, all sly like. I'm not gonna be a grandma before I'm 50, sorry about it. Might not be ethical or FDA recommended, but I stopped caring about stuff like that awhile ago..

So this brings me to what I was thinking about last night...So I could always slip her the birth control pill in her cereal, or grind it up and put it in her chocolate milk..I thought about the Depo shot..But I'm thinking she would be on to me , by the 3rd or 4th shot..I would lunge toward her with the syringe, she would scream out something like how I was crazy, and it could just get really ugly..So I don't know what I'm going to do, of course I will give her the female anatomy talk, the no sex talk, the safe sex talk, and show her terrible pictures of herpes and all the usual things mothers talk about..I will also show her a picture of my abdomen, before I had a baby, and afterwards..If that isn't enough to scare her into abstinence, then guess I will just have to break out the "Best Grandma Ever" sweatshirt...

Sweet dreams ya'll..

The time I thought I could fly

When I was a child I did some super stupid stuff..This habit has continued nicely into adulthood. I was reminded of this story while I was jogging tonight. I have to mention I was jogging, only because that is pretty funny in itself. I am attempting to do the Couch to 5k program for the umpteenth time..what better reason to start that nonsense up then Ash Wednesday? I have this vision of God looking down on me, doing the sarcastic clap, you know, the one that you do when someone talks about something they did which they are seeking some type of praise for, but really they should be doing that shit anyways? The important part of the clap, is the pause in between the claps..I digress, as usual...So God is looking down at me "clapping," thinking really?? I sent my Son to die on the cross, and you running/walking fast/dry heaving on the tread mill, is the closest thing you can do to show a sacrifice? Not to say that you kids shouldn't give up sugar, coffee, facebook, or carbonation for Lent, but one does have to kind of laugh when comparing the two. And oh geez, not interested in people complaining to me about what they are giving up for Lent and why it is amazing..of course, I should be prepared for all comments, if I do get any for this one..

So jogging, right...My dad was an avid runner while we were kids. Mostly ran in the early evenings...On this particular fateful night, my mom was somewhere like Jazzercise, God bless the 80's, and my dad was on his jog...Therefore, my two older brothers were left to watch my pestering little self. While the Rents were out doing their thing, my brothers took to the help of the TV, and we started watching some awesome show like "Fraggle Rock" or something. I was bored easily, and starting screwing around with the living room furniture..

Trying to think back as to what was going on in my disproportionately large head at the time.. it must have been something along the lines of..."hmm, that rocking chair looks super bored over there just like me, maybe I should go flip that bad boy upside down." This Hulk like maneuver received no reaction from my brothers.."so now what do I do?"..."oh I should probably climb on top of the upside down rocking chair." Still no reaction from the brothers...."Now I should probably sail off of the rocking chair like an eagle." Bad move little girl, especially when your eyes lack proper depth perception. The next thing I remember was being laid out on the bathroom floor, with my brothers mummifying me with toilet paper..

Apparently my graceful descend from the rocker ended with me smashing my head onto the corner of the piano bench in the living room..Whoopsie..So my brothers probably crapped their pants and ran me into the bathroom and started wrapping my head with the toilet paper..My dad came home moments later, probably crapped his pants as well, and drove me to the ER. Oddly enough, no stitches were needed, but I'm pretty sure my brothers took the pain even harder for me over that incident. Little did they know, that would just be the beginning of learning to put me back to together after my falls.

Bittersweet March

This one has been a long time coming..I've kind of felt like a liar to the tens of follwers I have. I love cracking jokes and telling what I think are funny stories, but it has been difficult to write more than a one liner on facebook these days..So I will give you a fair warning, that this entry is more for me than for you, but maybe for you, if you want to better understand me I guess..but it is about grieving and living, and how difficult the two are when brought together.

Not sure where to start because I don't know where the beginning of this sadness starts..I will try, and appropriately, my father will be looking down at me from heaven shaking his head, irritated that I still don't know how to use a comma, colon, semi-colon, or proper English in general..I know, I know, Dad, bout time you let go of that stuff :-)

This could be chapters long, but it doesn't need to be. Because it is about unconditional love between a father and daughter, that began the day I was born, and I know still carries on..

Always being a Daddy's girl, it was very difficult when my father was diagnosed as an alcoholic. Somehow, the one person that I thought was flawless, was not. He was my hero, and it was hard to have a hero, whom at the time was broken..Our family endured his struggle with alcohol for many years, mainly with love, but sometimes with resentment and anger...but always just wanted him to know that he was loved and was worth being here. His talents with music and spiritual teaching were boundless, so creative, and so magnetic..So it was difficult to watch this artist suffer, knowing we all thought the world of him, and if only he thought the same of himself, maybe the drinking would end. And it did..Through the help of an amazing doctor and some medication, my dad became 100% sober. This sobriety began shortly after I announced our pregnancy with my first daughter, Lindsey Lane..He wouldn't tell us of this sobriety until almost 6 months later, eventhough we had sensed a change, he hadn't wanted to give us false hope.

He was an amazing person..but once he became completely sober, he was a beyond amazing father, husband, and grandpa. Speaking of being a grandpa, he really did have a special bond with my little LL, I know I am biased, but it is true, and I will touch more on that later.

He was sober almost two years before he was diagnosed with stage 4 Esophageal Cancer..and those two years were so awesome for all of us. We had our dad back, our kids had their grandpa back. It was like he wore a cape and was out to save us...all before he had to be taken away..

I remember sitting in the hospital as we were waiting for test results to come back, regarding the diagnosis..My brother, Aaron, mentioned that it felt like our dad must have made some bargain with God, pleading that if could become sober, he would give all he could in what would be the short time he had left. The brutal diganosis, giving someone anywhere from 4 weeks to 6 months to live, is terrible. Add to that tradgedy, the fact that me and my sister-in-law were pregnant at the time. We looked down at our bellies throughout his illness, always wondering if these babies would get to meet their number one admirer, it was awful..

Even thoughout his brief illness, he didn't like the focus to be on him...All he wanted was to be able to get out of the fucking hospital so he could go play the organ in church and spend time with his family. Pardon my language, it is the grief talking....

During the time of his illness, I was living in Indiana, so we made frequent trips back to the suburbs to see him..When I did come into town, and he was in the hospital, I knew it gave him a sense of relief. Eventhough oncology is not my area, I still knew a good thing or two about patient care..Therefore, the night that he was left to press a button in order to receive pain medication, and was unable to use his hands due to pain, therefore unable to give himself the much needed medication...you can bet your ass that the nurse manger, hospital administrator, and anyone else who would take the time to answer my call, was chewed out to the extreme..My dad's good friend said later that day, "I know Sarah was here cause I can still see the trail of smoke from her burning up the place." I took that as a compliment..I also took it as a compliement when my brother, Michael, informed the nurses on the unit, shortly before my arrival one day, "My sister is gonna be here soon, she is a nurse, she is due to give birth any day now, and she is gonna tear your ass apart if you don't start answering the call light." That was all I could do, cause I could not save the one person who guided me through my whole life, it is all I had left to do...

One week before my scheduled c-section date, I asked my OB doctor to strip my membranes at my appointment, to possibly start the process of labor..in the few days prior to that we had placed my dad in Hospice at the hospital..I knew his time was limited and I was desperate for him to meet my unborn child..When we got home from that appointment, we were immediately informed that my father was ailing at rapid speed. So we packed up as much as we could, and left for Chicago. Not knowing if I would need to be delivered while seeing my dad, I made calls to line up where I would go if I went into labor, since we were away from our home..I packed clothes for all of us, and sobbed as I picked out black dresses for me and my litttle LL. But it wasn't time to grieve yet. We made it to see him and visit him in the hospital for a few days..

I can't imagine how he felt, looking at me, ready to have a baby any minute, and knowing he wasn't going to physically be there for me..The thought makes me sick to this very day. LL got to hop onto his hospital bed and snuggle for a few minutes on that very sad Friday. My brother, at the same time of all this chaos, was in the hospital with his wife, awaiting the arrival of his baby boy..On that very sad Friday, I left in the late afternoon to grab dinner with my husband and LL, and went back to my friend's house to collect myself and head back for what I thought would be a long night of watching my father suffer..the suffering he endured, is the other issue I struggle with on a daily basis, it seemed so unneccesary, to have the amount of pain and difficulty breathing...I remember looking at my family members thinking, so who is going to put him out of this misery? I can't handle it, and he shouldn't have to either..it was unbearable to watch..it wasn't like the movies, it was not peaceful, it was not quiet, it was loud and ugly..and I wasn't there when it ended..I thought I had more time.

My brother, Aaron, called in the late afternoon of that very sad Friday, March 20th, 2009, to let my dad know that sweet and healthy, John Michael Folkening, was born. They held the phone up to my father's ear, and within 15 minutes, my father passed away..It sounds Hollywood, sounds possibly beautiful, but at the time, and to this day, it is so ugly and unbearable...

My brother Michael called me to tell me about baby John and my dad...I then called my brother Aaron, he hadn't gotten the call yet about my father's passing, he thought I was just calling to congratulate him..the phone went silent and was then filled with sounds of weeping...I vividly, remember crumpling at the table in Joanna's dining room, surrounded by my husband, and my best friends for life, Adam and Becky...

I stayed pregnant somehow, through all of that..the day after my father's funeral, I arrived to my scheduled c-section..it's a blur really..how was I able to walk, shower, anything? I don't know..But Sloane was born March 25th, and was immediately sent to the NICU...and remained there for a week. I really thought my world was ending..but I think I was so numb that I almost didn't care..but we survived, Sloane "Coco" , was brought home on April 1st..healthy and smiling. Her name, Sloane, means strong warrior, and that is who she is, thank God..I always refer to her as, "My angel baby, sent from heaven," and I mean it...but more on that some other time..Anyhow, that is a taste of my grief, I apologize, it won't happen often here...but I do finally feel like I can exhale a little bit..which feels good, so thanks for reading...