JDish

Dear Dad,

Today would be your 78th birthday. October, for me, is your month.

I have dear friends who are dealing with the recent deaths of family members. I ache for them. I know how brutal it is right now, and if I could do a cosmic fast-forward for them I would, because time is the only balm that actually works.

And I know that after a while, you stop feeling like all of your skin has been peeled off, like your heart is raw and exposed, each beat on display for the world. You stop feeling so fragile that even a breeze or the sunshine can hurt, because they bring a memory.

After enough time - however much that might be - you actually start feeling fine. Not that you don't have bad periods or hard moments. But mostly, you are fine. Eventually, you are happy, and the rough patches are few and far between. Sometimes you feel guilty for being fine and happy.

All you need is time. Time time time, like that Tom Waits song. But time just takes so damn long. And you hurt so much in the meanwhile.

No, it's not a perfect remedy. Sometimes I still get very upset. Sometimes I still wonder how you could've left us. And birthdays and holidays still hurt.

But time time time. It's the best we've got.

The kids are now five and two. Jordan doesn't yet ask why he doesn't have a grandpa, but I suppose eventually he will. He's a little fixated on death and dying right now, and his teacher said it's the age. They're trying to sort out what it means.

I wear the T-shirt I had made for my walk last summer, and he knows the man playing piano is my dad, and he knows the girl in the picture is me. Both kids do. Every time I wear it we have to examine the picture and identify all the characters.

India used to identify the girl as India, but now she points says, "That's Mama." They know the little boy I have my arm around is my brother, although they do not know him. They used to think that the boy was Jordan. They're so used to every picture of every kid they see being them.

Anyway, they're growing into really interesting little humans. They would make you laugh so much. You would love them for who they are, not just because they're your grandchildren.

Sometimes Jordan goes upstairs to sleep with his Nana. Sometimes they both go up in the morning and crawl in her bed and watch TV and eat sweets. This past summer we all went to Maine, and Jordan and Nana shared a bed. I asked one morning how they slept and he said, "Good. Sometimes we sleep, and sometimes we wake up and chat. And then we sleep some more."

I love they are growing up so close to Betty.

Our lives are normal now. I mean, my kids have never known a life that didn't involve Betty living with us at least part of the week. I don't think Jordan remembers her house, in fact. Your house. They never had a world that included you.

So this, for them, is how life is.

One of Jordan's new friends had her grandparents visiting. They left a week ago, and as they were saying goodbye at school that last morning, Jordan got teary for her. "She has to say goodbye!" I reminded him how lucky he is to have Nana right upstairs. To see her every day and never have to say goodbye.

I think for me, each one of these letters to you is a fractional goodbye. I'm making peace with the past, peace with your actions, peace with the fact that I failed to save you one last time. That was my expectation of myself, foolish as it may sound, but it is true.

It's a process. It takes time time time.

It's your birthday, and I miss you.

Love,

Lisa

People had warned me before I had a second child that it's not double the work, that it's exponentially more than that.

And I have to agree. It's not in the ways I thought, though. I thought it would be all physical labor - more dirty clothes, more dishes, more toys. What I really wasn't prepared for was the emotional and physical wallop of the relentlessness of two children's competing wants and needs.

I don't believe there's any way to actually prepare for it. But! I started thinking about it, and I think you could have a day of boot camp.

It might go something like this:

1. Get two of your friends to spend a night and day with you. Assign one to be the kid and the other the toddler.
2. Since you'll need to be ready to juggle the two kids alone at least sometimes, and this is boot camp, your partner should leave the house for one entire day. Also, you'll need to do something with the actual kid that you already have. Send them off with the other parent.
3. Have one friend wake up shrieking between 1:00 and 3:00 am. (For current purposes, I'm working with a kid and a toddler. BUT! If your friend is willing, and you want to recreate the newborn experience all over again, then ask them to scream every two hours. Also ask Baby Friend to cry regularly and make you guess what he or she wants and not to talk or point or really do anything for him- or herself. You'll have to choose a really good friend, of course. Realize this will be a good/terrible test in many ways, because you'll both be exhausted and crabby.)
4. Have Kid Friend wake up any time prior to 6:30 am, stand next to you two inches from your nose, and when you awake with a start, say, "Is today a stay-home day? What are we doing today? Can I watch a video? I want waffles."
5. Get up with Kid Friend. Start making waffles. 
6.  Leave while they're toasting, because Toddler Friend is up. 
7. Make sure Kid Friend understands that if he/she does not already have your full attention, they should ask or shriek for your it when you begin to leave the room. They don't need to full-out cry until you've actually left to get Toddler Friend.
8. Bring Toddler Friend into the room and set them up with some toys.
9. Turn your attention back to breakfast.
10. During this time, your friends will alternate with any or all of the following whenever they choose: pull on you one at a time; pull on you at the same time; compete to sit in your lap; demand that you read a book while you're cooking eggs; play happily until one of them hits the other, thus causing both to scream; lay on the floor and kick each other; hug your legs.
11. Be sure to ask your friends to improvise. If one of them wants to climb on top of a chair and fall off, for example, that's terrific. If Toddler Friend feels inclined to bite Kid Friend, all the better.
12. Get waffles and eggs onto two plates. Make sure one is not bigger/more appealing than the other. Ditto for beverages. Toddler Friend probably won't notice, but Kid Friend will.
13. At least one of them should spill a beverage and/or food on the floor.
14. Going to the park with two adults pretending to be your children would likely garner you a lot of looks and a weird reputation in your community so it might be best to stay home. But to practice getting both kids bundled to go out, have Kid Friend demand your attention while you're trying to get Toddler Friend's coat, shoes, hat, gloves on. Toddler Friend will bolt and remove at least one item of clothing whenever you turn your attention to Kid Friend.
15. Since you're all adults, you might at this point want to have a drink. But you can't. Or anyway, they can't. And with my rules, you can't either.
16. Spend the day keeping Kid Friend and Toddler Friend entertained. Try painting or coloring or playing with cars and trains. Kid Friend and Toddler Friend must remember to squabble regularly over who plays with which toy.
17. Don't feel bad about yourself if you resort to videos. Cars or The Little Mermaid are big hits here.
18. Make lunch. Repeat Steps 10-13 here.
19. All take a nap at the same time, but make sure one if not both resist violently beforehand.
20. Your nap ends whenever either of them get up.
21. Keep one and then both entertained until dinnertime. 
22. Repeat the mealtime steps.
23. No, Kid Friend cannot have a treat unless they finish dinner. Repeat this 54 times.
24. Poor everyone a big glass of wine, because at this point you will likely all hate each other and boy, do you deserve it. Also, it will help you get through boot camp bathtime, which is sure to be awkward, no matter how good friends you are.

Cheers!