A Full Moon-Induced Case Of The Bat-Shit Crazies


Awoooooooooooo! Full moon and I can't sleep.
Well, I could.
I mean, I did.
But I totally just has a nightmare that I was on a run-down river-boat cruise in Germany, and couldn't get my crap together in time for disembarkation and missed my flight to Sweden, and at the last minute found I was crawling with - you guessed it - lice! Aughhhhhhh! Okay...a few things weird about that nightmare.:

A: Never been on a river-boat cruise and don't plan on going.
B: If I did, it certainly wouldn't be on a crappy one like this.
C: I'm fairly certain the actor who played the jerk steward in Titanic (that gets punched in the nose by Rose) isn't working as a room steward on a crappy river-boat cruise in Germany.
D: My parents don't have a time-share cruise cabin on a run-down river boat that gives its passengers lice.
E: Never been to Sweden and don't plan on going.
F: Picture frames can't talk to you like they did in Harry Potter. (don't ask)
G: I'm pretty sure Nix would have a different name in Germany, although...now that I think about it - Aughhhhhh!
Also, totally missing my best friend Carmen, who would totally get my full-moon craziness right now.
"Awoooo!"
*sigh*
May as well have some coffee and work on the new website, because there is no way I'm going back to THAT dream!
Anyone else awake?
"Awooo?"

 Adventures In Nitpicking - Days 2 and 3
 Informational, and not very funny, but potentially helpful
Also good for those who are actually dealing with headlice, don't appreciate swearing (re:Aliens Among Us - previous post), and aren't just here to enjoy a little schadenfreude (but seriously, don't we all?)

So, I'm sure you're probably all sick of this by now, but I've learned something else about lice today, in my search of lice forums. It turns out (and I'm so surprised this didn't occur to me) that nits develop, too. It makes sense, doesn't it? When they're first laid, they're almost microscopic, and they fatten up and grow bigger as the baby louse develops within the egg. So, I've been driving myself crazy, wondering why I keep finding new nits when there are no bugs left. The answer? They were there all along, but I just couldn't see them yet. The Nix shampoo says that it kills nits, too, but new research is saying that lice (and therefore their eggs) have developed a resistance to these treatments, which explains why the live ones I found in the 2 hours of nitpicking and careful combing after treating Charlotte that first night were still sort of staggering around. I mean, they were pretty easy to get because they were really slowed down by the shampoo, but still - they weren't dead until I killed them by squishing them with my fingernail. ( I know, eeeewwwww!) So, it stands to reason, that since the shampoo says it would kill lice and nits, and it obviously didn't quite do the job on the lice, some of the nits might still be viable, too. In fact, most lice shampoos say that they kill the lice, but NOT the nits, and that since you can't use it more than once a week, you should wait until the nits hatch, and kill them with a follow-up treatment once they hatch, but before they develop enough to lay new nits. Well, this is all fine and good, if you believe that all of the nits were laid at the same time, and will develop within the exact same timeline. Since I found a total of 8 live lice, which were in various stages of size, (and I would assume) development, it stands to reason that some of the nits would be in different stages of development, as well. So, really, the best line of defense is the tried and true method of manually picking out the nits you find, EVERY DAY, ensuring that none of them have a chance to hatch.

And one more thing...It's important to note that for children with very fine hair, the nit combs are far to widely spaced to remove all nits, especially if there are some smaller, less developed nits on their hair. Some people say that you should try a flea comb, intended for pets to remove nits from fine hair, but even that was too widely spaced for these newer, smaller nits. The first day, we did the Nix treatment, and a thorough nit combing (finding 8 bugs) and nitpicking (25-30 nits found) and went to bed (on fresh sheets, after vaccuuming the mattresses and discarding all pillows, using rolled up beach towels as pillows. Then, in the morning, we changed our clothes and sheets (thank goodness, it's warm, and we don't need blankets), and washed these (along with the towels) in hot, hot water with bleach, vinegar, tea tree and lavender oil, and dried it all on high heat in the dryer for 1 hour. The second day, we did another nit combing (no bugs, yay!) and nitpicking (about 6 nits), soaked our hair and scalps in coconut oil and tea tree and wrapped our heads up in saran wrap and shower caps for 6 hours, after which, we did a secondary nit combing (3 nits), and washed it all out with baking soda, vinegar and finally, tea tree shampoo and conditioner. The third day (today), we did a thorough nit combing (no bugs, but the comb didn't actually pull any nits out) and nitpicking (found 3 more really small nits), and went to bed on fresh sheets with new beach towels as pillows (in fresh pillowcases). Well, Charlotte's in bed, but I'm still doing laundry. All of the couches and chairs have been stripped of their covers which we washed and dried on hot with bleach, vinegar, lavender and tea tree oil (be sure to add all ingredients and let the water pour in enough that you don't accidentally whiten your clothing or bedding - this even worked on my darks and black t-shirts, and there was no bleaching effect). Thank God for Ikea, my couch covers actually come off!, so we (and by we, I mean me), washed the covers, vaccuumed the cushions and placed the cushions in plastic garbage bags, sealed with packing tape for 4 weeks, although I may, in my paranoia, decide to replace the cushions at Ikea, since I will probably need some shopping therapy after all this is over anyway. The pillows, I just threw away. Bed Bath and Beyond, here I come! Stuffed animals will mostly be discarded, (this is where it really pays to be a Jellycat dealer), and those that are irreplaceable are sealed in individual Ziplock bags, and then, tightly sealed in plastic garbage bags for 6 weeks, although, knowing me, I'll probably keep them sealed up for 12 weeks or so, since I never do anything half-way! I drove out to the car wash today, while Emily watched Charlotte and made sure she didn't sit anywhere but our leather coach (Tom won't let me throw it away (yeesh!, so unreasonable), which has been seriously vaccuumed and covered with white fitted sheets (changed daily) so we can easily see anything that may fall off of her head. There, I attracted plenty of attention as I vaccuumed the car for one. full. hour. (and a half), in yoga shorts (nobody should have to see that), with a beet-red, sweaty face, while promising myself that my next car will definitely have leather seats. Then, I took that fetching look to the pet store, where I purchased a flea comb, which I was told has finer teeth than a nit comb, and is better for fine hair, but really, they lie. It was exactly the same! Tomorrow...well, I'll keep you posted, but I'm really hoping we can get through this without the promised resurgence at the one week mark since I've been manually nitpicking, and plan to do so every day until there are none. So, none can hatch, right? Right???? Seriously, I may never stop feeling itchy!

-Carla

p.s. bonus! I found out today that my Honda actually has a drop down cupholder armrest in the back seat. After cleaning up spilled blueberry smoothie from the door pocket which is definitely NOT a proper cupholder, Charlotte!

Adventures in Nitpicking or Aliens Among Us 
WARNING!! (Appropriate) bad language used in this post!

So, I'm sure you're probably all sick of this by now, but I've learned something else about lice today, in my heebie-jeebie-inspired search of headlice forums. It turns out (and I'm actually surprised this didn't occur to me) that nits develop, too. It makes sense, doesn't it? When they're first laid, they're almost microscopic, and they fatten up and grow bigger as the baby louse develops within the egg. Bleghhhh. Seriously...fricking bleghhhh! So, I've been driving myself crazy, wondering why I keep finding new nits when there are no bugs left. The answer? They were there all along, but I just couldn't see them yet. Kind of like, "Theeeeyyyyyre Heeeeerrrreeeee!" (bet she had lice).  The lice shampoo says that it kills nits, too, but scientists (aka Jeff Goldblum in basically ANY movie) is saying that lice (and therefore their eggs) have developed a resistance to these treatments, which explains why the live lice I found in the 2 hours of nitpicking and careful combing after treating Charlotte that first night were still sort of staggering around, drunk and wondering where the hell their kegger went? I mean, they were pretty easy to get because they were really slowed down by the shampoo, but still - they weren't dead until I killed them by squishing the little fuckers with my fingernail. It's the old double-tap, so the zombie can't infect you when you think he's dead, but you really should have known better.  So, it stands to reason, that since the shampoo says it would kill lice and nits, and it obviously didn't quite do the job on the lice, some of the nits might still be viable, too. In fact, most lice shampoos say that they kill the lice, but NOT the nits, and that since you can't use it more than once a week, you should wait until the nits hatch, and kill them with a follow-up treatment once they're active, but before they develop enough to lay new nits. This is some serious zombie-apocalyptic-shit here! If you believe that all of the nits were laid at the same time, and will develop within the exact same timeline, you're sort of like the sheriff in those old zombie movies who saunters up halfway through the film, to assure everybody that "The worst is over. Nothing to see here, folks." In my limited zombie/alien movie experience, he's always the next to die, and deservedly so! But beware - there is definitely something brewing in Sigourney Weaver's belly, no matter how attractive she is! In order to really win the war against headlice, you've got to be more like that person who invariably chooses the seat behind me in the theatre making me pee a little every time she screams, "Behind you!" Since I found a total of 8 live lice, which were in various stages of size, (and I would assume) development, it stands to reason that some of the nits would be in different stages of development, as well. Think, people! When you get to the creature's lair, there are always a few pods bursting to hatch, and some just benignly pulsating in the background in time with the music, and our hero always seems to turn his back on the one that's about to open his eyes and become sentient! I mean, doesn't he HEAR the creepy music??? So, really, the best line of defense is the tried and true method of manually picking out the nits you find, every day, ensuring that none of them have a chance to hatch. WE MUST REMAIN VIGILANT!!! Otherwise, you may as well ignore the creepy man in the black hat, because it's just a matter of time before you figure out your house is built on a graveyard full of zombies.
Zombies that hatch.

Have I mangled enough movie metaphors for one night?
-Carla

 Aventures In Nitpicking - Day 1

WARNING!!! Post Contains some bad language. (although, frankly, I’m surprised at my own restraint, here)

And how was your day???

FREAKED-OUT SHOPPING LIST (extra points, if it’s purchased at 2am)

1.   Nix shampoo (and a quick prayer, that these are not the new, Nix-resistant strain of lice)
2.   Hair clips to section hair, thus turning you into a truly magnificent style maven. (see photo)
3.   Magnifying glass (you’re not looking for a mass exodus across the scalp for the live ones, it’s more like a demented Plinko path they take, along a hair shaft, then to another hair, then behind the ears.)
4.   Metal lice comb and boiling water to clean it after.
5.   A million paper towels, to wipe the nit comb on between passes through the hair. Eeeewwwww! (as grossed out as I am, I must say, it’s VERY satisfying to ‘pop’ the little buggers, like fleas!)
6.   Large pot (that i will NEVER use again!)
7.   Wire rack for the bottom of the pot, (see above about future use), so you don’t (stupidly) melt your nit comb *smacks forehead; see photo*
8.   Olive oil, coconut oil or mayonnaise (leave on for at least 6 hours to suffocate the little buggers) Choose carefully, because it will turn you off of whatever foods use these ingredients in the future.
9.   Shower cap (yay! now I look like the Lunch Lady logo). Crap! Saran-wrap (even more lovely), if the shower cap shoots off of your head like a slingshot and lands across the room.
10. More paper towels, to clean up the oily trail the shower cap made on the floor.
11.  Even more paper towels to blot your neck as the oil runs into your bra.
12.  White vinegar to coat scalp and hair (lice hate this), rinse out the oil, and add to laundry. (also adds to your general loveliness, regarding smell)
13.  Hair dryer that gets really, really hot.
14.  Ear plugs, so you can’t hear you child whine.
15.  A million garbage bags, to put stuffed animals in that you couldn’t throw away because your child was watching you in. (Damn!) Ditto for all of your couch cushions.
16.  Lysol spray for mattresses, or a winning lottery ticket so you can replace them. And all of your carpets. And towels. And bedding. And pillows. (Oh, screw it! I’m pitching the pillows anyway!)
17.  A really good vaccuum, to use on all carpets, mattresses, couches, car seats, car interiors (don’t forget the roof interior!)
18.  The number of a good carpet installer, if you’re really paranoid.
19.  White sheets to cover your leather couch with (because your husband won’t let you throw THAT away), so you can sit on it while waiting for the treatments to kill everything.
20.  Lavender and tea tree oil for laundry, and possibly your head.
21.  Spray bottle to wet hair during daily torture sessions with the nit comb.
22.  Baking soda, to see the nits better, if you’re having trouble.
23.  Lots of hot water for laundry (aka, no one gets a hot shower for the next 2 days!)
24.  Tea tree oil shampoo and conditioner (to keep them at bay, and because the Nix packaging says we can’t use it every day, until they’re all dead. Noooo, we have to wait a week! Yeesh!)
25.  LOTS of patience. (That’s it! I’m sunk!)
26.  Large bottle of vodka. No, seriously. You’ll need it. (you’re welcome).




Adventures in Bug-Wrangling, and a Healthy Portion of Humble Pie

You know how they say you haven’t really lived in New York unless you’ve been mugged?
Well, I have a theory for you. You haven’t really experienced parenthood - not fully - until you’ve found lice on your child.
As I sit on my porch, feeling the sickly trail of coconut oil and tea tree running down the side of my head and into my ear, amid the stench of lingering Nix shampoo, I have time to reflect. Six hours, to be exact, and I’ve realized that I wasn’t truly done, hadn’t really experienced my ‘last cookie enjoyment,’ until I found our new little ‘friends' on Charlotte’s head. Raising my first two kids, I survived Emily’s febrile seizure at age 5, as her fever soared to 105 degrees, Michael’s fall from his treehouse, resulting in a torn Gluteus Maximus muscle, (aka, The Ass Dent), Emily’s broken nose (neighborhood trampoline), and Michael’s head gash (fireplace hearth), resulting in several stitches and a new living room carpet (no one can clean up THAT much blood. I even (barely) survived almost losing Michael to anaphylactic shock after he stepped into a hornet’s nest at age 12.

These are all big events - frightening events, but none of them so inspiring of the heebie-jeebies as this.  It was a point of pride, that I had never had a child with headlice. Sort of like, “Yeah, I totally rock at this parenting thing", which is about as absurd as being proud that your child has never had a cold or been attacked by mosquitos. Ah, but pride goeth before the fall, right?? It just figures, too. I am, perhaps the germophobiest (is that a word? It should be), person you’d ever (not) want to meet. Ah-choo? Nice knowing you. Doctor’s offices? “Do NOT touch the toys, child!!!” Hospitals? Sheldon’s got nothing on me, as I ask myself, “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” As I write this, my heebies have jeebies! It is extremely humbling to realize that you cannot spare your child from the injuries and diseases of childhood, no matter how great a parent you are trying to be.

And yet, I had one more comeuppance. One more child, to teach me that I had yet to be truly and karmically served. So, here we are, after being up until 5:30am, washing with Nix and nitpicking nits, and squashing every little bugger I could find. Eight lice bugs. Eight lice bugs and about 30 nits pulled from her hair that probably only weigh a combined total of .00001 grams, and this is enough to show me what a smug asshole I’ve been about all of those notices I’ve gotten from school about other kids with lice. 'Not my kids', I would tell myself as I absently scratched my own head, and frantically checked my kids for signs of the dreaded scourge. 'Not in my house', reassuring myself that we were clean, and therefore would never have to make those embarrassing phone calls to playmates parents, warning of potential pestilence. What a maroon!

So, do I have them, too, you must be wondering? Who the hell knows? Have you seen how much hair I have?? Past my shoulders, which points out exactly how smart those moms who cut their hair are! As I mentioned before, I am a class 1 germophobe and hypochondriac, so I’m going to assume they’re in there somewhere! Besides, what fun would it be if I didn’t go through the same mortifying rituals my daughter is at the moment. I’ll consider it a bonding moment. Eyes watering from the stench of Nix shampoo? Check. Frizzed-out hair from combing with a nit comb? Check. Hair soaked in coconut oil? (at least, it’s conditioning, although I’m sure I will look like I’ve rolled in bacon grease for the next week) Check. Head wrapped in Saran Wrap, as I sit on my front porch amusing my neighbours with my pissed off expression because I now HATE the smell of coconut, and look like a recently lobotomized crazy person? Check, check. Maybe I can just pass it off as a home-permanent? Wait!!! Maybe THAT would kill them???

Oh, but however humbling, I know that I am not alone. And to make sure that any of you out there, who may be going through this know it, too, I am sharing this with you. So pass it on, because it could be
helpful, because I had no idea what nits really looked like, and even if you don’t need this as an educational reference, we could all use a giggle, and I’m happy to provide it. :)

Carla

Two Birds, One Pair Of Pantyhose

So, my nightly phone conversations with Frankie go something like this.
This is known as, “Talking Someone Out Of Their Tree”
Otherwise known as “Phone Call of the Day #29”.

(Frankie calls me back for the third time in 20 minutes)

Me:         "City morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em!"

Frankie:    "Were we talking?”

Me:         "Yeah, and then you had to go.”

Frankie:    "Oh.
                 What's wrong?”

Me:         "Nothing, I'm just in bed.
                I'm so tired I'm slurring.”

Frankie:    "Oh.
                  I can't sleep.”

Me:         "Well, that’s better than being bored. Maybe you just need to
                 talk to a sleepy person for a while.”

Frankie:    "I don't know.”

Me:         "Well, have you tried going to your happy place?”

Frankie:    “God. You're funny.”

Me:         "No, I'm serious. I know it sounds lame, but if you just let
                yourself get really still and close your eyes and think about
                something good, you'll calm down.
                And then you can sleep.
                And stop being such a colossal pain-in-the-ass.”

                (Frankie laughs, quietly)

Me:         "Okay, think about being at the cottage when you were little,
                and I would lay down next to you on your crappy little bottom
                bunk, and we’d squish in there and look up at the little glow-
                in-the dark stars Mom stuck to the bottom of the upper bunk so
                that people wouldn't get claustrophobic when they had to sleep
                there."

Frankie:    “Oh, yeah.”

Me:         "Remember how, if you squinted your eyes, they almost looked
                real?”

Frankie:    “Yeah.”

Me:         "Funny, only Mom would stick mildly carcinogenic fake stars up
               when we were in the middle of the Bruce Peninsula and could
               literally have seen a galaxy of stars if we'd just lain in the other,
               more comfortable bed and opened the blinds.”

                 (Frankie laughs)

Frankie:    “Yeah.
                 Mom's kind of awesome, isn't she?”

Me:         “Yeah.”

                (Frankie yawns)

Me:         "You know what one of my favorite memories is from when you
               were little?”

Frankie:    “What?”

Me:         "When I'd come home from being out with the youth group and
                free you from Mom's pantyhose door shackle and sneak into
                your room."

Frankie:    "No way!”

Me:         "Don't you remember? Mom would tie a pair of her pantyhose
                from your bedroom door knob to the banister across the hall
                so you couldn't keep coming out.
                I wonder if she ever tried wearing them after that.”

                 (Frankie laughs)

Me:         "You know, when she was late for church and all out of hose?
                She'd be the only woman at church wearing a pantyhose
                turtleneck.”

Frankie:    "God, my drink just came out my nose!”

Me:         "Did you forget who you're talking to?
                God, I remember coming home drunk and tripping on that
                stupid thing. Mom must have been trying to either kill me or
                catch me being drunk, or maybe just lock you up.
         
                Either way, two birds, one pair of pantyhose.

                I walked straight into them once, and those babies were taut,
                across the hallway, and the light was off so I didn't see them
                and I just flipped ass over cocktails right over it. Just flipped,
                legs in the air, head straight down and tumbled in some kind
                of demented cartwheel and landed on my ass.

                And Mom was like, "WHAT was that????”
                And I was like, " I dropped my purse”.
                And she was like, " Honestly, I don't know why on EARTH
                you need to carry that thing around with you everywhere
                you go, even in the house!”"

Frankie:    "OMG, that sounds JUST like Mom!"

Me:         "Like the bigger question wouldn't be, "How is your purse so
               heavy, it sounds like a human when it falls?"

                And of course, I'd say, "Why, to hide my peach schnapps,
                cigarettes and birth control pills. Yeesh!”
                (On the inside, of course)

                 And then she'd go back to her 1980's miniseries and I'd release
                 the pantyhose from your door knob with a 'poosh!' and sneak
                 into your room.”

Frankie:    “Yeah, you always knew I was awake."

Me:         "That's one of my favorite memories. I’d sneak in and you'd still
                be wide awake, of course, and you'd say, “Stay with me?"
                And I'd say, “Okay, but I can't sing to you because Mom will
                hear me."
                And you'd say, (immediately), “Will you sing to me?"
                And, of course, the narcissist in me would love that, because
                we're all mentally ill, in our own special way, and Mom really
                didn't care, as long as we didn't interrupt Stephanie Powers or
                Richard Chamberlain, or whoever was emotionally
                manipulating who for the broadcast viewers pleasure that
                particular night on TV, so I'd say, “Fine then, come sit in the chair
                with me, and you'd jump into my arms and snuggle in with
                your head on my shoulder, soft and warm. And I'd rock and sing
                'Heartlight' to you, over and over again, until you were asleep.

                 Remember the carousel in your room?”

Frankie:    "No, what carousel?”

Me:         "That mom made.”

Frankie:    "Oh, yeah.”

Me:         "God, the macrame in that house was mesmerizing!”

                (Laughs)

Me:         "Remember the lion head she made?”

Frankie:    "He was scary.”

Me:         "And hilarious!”

Frankie:    “Yeah.”

                  (Yawns)

Me:         "Where was I?”

Frankie:    "Singing to me.”

Me:         "Oh yeah.
               And then I'd stay there for another hour or so, just listening to
                you breathe, and thinking that this must be what it's like to be
                a mother.
               Who doesn't tie doors shut with pantyhose.”

                (Frankie laughs. And yawns)

Me:         "All you ever wanted was to be with us. "I want to be with you!"

Frankie:    "I did, didn't I?”

Me:         "Yup. See, even then, you were a pain in the ass.”

                (Frankie laughs softly)

Frankie:    "You must have wanted to kill me.”

Me:         "I thought about it.”

Frankie:    “Carla, what's wrong with me?”

Me:         "You've got a brain injury. You're an enigma. But you're gonna
                be fine. See, you were exactly the same way when you were
                four years old. You've just reverted, that's all.”

Frankie:    "I'm pretty sleepy now.”

Me:         "I told you all you needed was to talk to someone sleepy.”

Frankie:    "I love you.”

Me:         "I love you too.”

Frankie:    “Goodnight.”

Me:         “Goodnight."
                (Pain in the ass)
                (smiles)




This is the song I wrote for her, when Frankie was in her first coma. When she woke up, she asked the nurses if someone was singing. I'm sure I could hear their eyes rolling from my hotel room because I'd been singing to her for literally, days.

Everything's Gonna Be Allright

I can't sleep
You used to say to me at night
Then you'd come in on little feet
Steal my covers away from me
I'd say, 'Everything's gonna be alright"

And you used to wait for me at night
To come chase the monsters from your room
You'd say, 'Could you stay with me a while
And, would you sing for me tonight'
I'd sing, 'Everything's gonna be alright'

And I don't know what tomorrow brings
And I can't make it go away
I can only be the one
To wait the night out, 'till the sun
Singing, 'Everything's gonna be okay'

So, I'll stay and watch you, while you sleep
Here, in the darkness of this night
But I know, this must me true
God is watching over you
And everything's gonna be alright
I know in my heart, this must be true
God is watching over you
And everything's gonna be alright

-Carla

 Lay Me Down - new song lyrics
-A snapshot of life from last fall

I wrote this song the week before my hysterectomy this past November. I had been sick for so long, and not even really taking stock to realize how sick I was. When the results of my biopsy came back as pre-cancerous, my doctor recommended the hysterectomy. (FYI - all is fine, they found nothing!!) Then Diabetes struck - with a vengeance!  And they realized they couldn't operate on me until I got it under control. The drastic change in my diet and the new medications had me walking (and feeling) like an old woman! And then, my hair started falling out. Thankfully, most of it is coming back, so you really can't tell, but I was so upset by this, feeling that I was no longer desirable, or even a woman. I was losing my sense of self. I was so sick, all the time, and still trying to manage my little store, and trying to be there for my family, and letting almost everyone down because I was too weak to do anything about the day-to-day demands I have placed on myself. Tom tried to help, but I wondered how much of my self as a woman was bound up in my ability to have children - even if I wasn't planning on having any more. I worried that I may not survive this. I worried about the way my children would be affected, if I didn't. And I wanted to be heard. For Tom to know how much I love him, and wanted to be all of the things I may not be able to be anymore. So many thoughts flying through my head, and they just came out like this.




Lay Me Down

When it rains
Let it pour
When the salt on our skin can't be tasted again
I am yours
And I have promised you everything I have been given, and will
But I am mired by circumstance, broken, bleeding and still

Lay me down
On your altar
And cut away my pride
Leave me nothing
But the memory
Of how you felt inside
For it's only in the mourning
As I gather up my leaves
I am haunted by the promises
Whispered in the trees

I have lost
A piece of myself
It was waiting there, useless and beautiful
Left on a shelf
And I could fill it with ribbons and laurels and longing and dreams
But there is no one around me to mourn this, and what it all means

Lay me down
On the water
Let the salt touch my tongue
Let me drink
From your longing
For what can't be undone
For it's only in the moonlight
As I'm drifting out to sea
I am born now, as a siren
For no land I can see

All I've done
Is all that I am
I'm rejoiced and ashamed, and afraid
I am only a man
I have fear
But I am strong
And the days 'till the moment of reckoning aren't so long

Lay me down
In your arms now
As my feathers fall like rain
I am broken
By my vanity
Your offerings, and your pain
But it's only in the moment
That I leave you on this plane
I will live here for a thousand years
And wait for you again
I will live here for a thousand years
And wait for you again

-Carla

In Between

 
In Between

This song is about my sister Frankie, my family, my mother-in-law, who has bravely been battling cancer, and my babies, both living, and lost. I recently underwent a hysterectomy, and have struggled with the reality of not being able to have more children. I always thought I'd have a house full. I suppose I've more than made up for this with my daughter Charlotte, my daughter Emily and her boyfriend Scott, and my son Michael and his girlfriend Lahring, who all live with us. But that doesn't mean I don't wish I could have had more...

I woke this morning from a dream that was so real, I could feel it for hours afterwards.  I can still feel it now.  In the dream, I had a new baby, and was waking to the soft light of morning.  I looked around the room, and saw my baby for the first time. I don’t know if it was a boy or a girl, but it was mine. It looked just like all of my babies, so familiar, I had to catch my breath when I woke up for real. I reached over and pulled the bassinet closer, and the nurse helped me pick the baby up.  That first moment, when baby snuggled into my chest, just below my neck, and turned its cheek against my breast, and I could see its face so clearly; feel the downy soft of its hair against my skin. The baby yawned, and stretched with its whole body to settle in,  the way they do when they’re new.  I woke up still smelling that new baby smell, and ached. I tried to close my eyes again to go back to the dream, but it was gone. I could still feel it, though. It was almost as if I had actually held one of my babies, perhaps one that I had lost years ago and never had the chance to hold.  And I realized that I will have to wait for grandchildren now, to feel something that’s mine like that, so tiny, new and close again.

I started thinking about the memories you have; the sense of belonging and family that is so deeply ingrained in us. What it was like to be young and at home, with my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters - everyone I loved. How much I loved those impromptu get-togethers that happen when you are a part of a large family. And how we don’t really have that anymore.  Everyone is so busy. And these have, indeed, been dark years for us, as a family.  We've lost so many, and worry constantly about those who are still so ill, myself included - and I was one of the lucky ones. I wonder how Charlotte will remember things when she’s older.  I’m sure, though, that she’ll have her own memories, too - ones that I don’t even realize we are creating right now.  There is still laughter and light all around us. There are still good things and hope. I still have hope.

I remember listening to Opa, my Dad and his brothers singing all those old German folk songs. My aunt and Oma, laughing with delight at their silliness. I didn't understand the words, but it didn't matter. I just loved the sound of their voices, vibrant, young and happy. The goosebumps on my arms when they would sing in harmony. The way Opa’s hand-rolled tobacco smelled. The smell of their after-dinner brandy, and the beer they'd let us sneak the foam from.  The warm comfort of their bodies in the summer; how I had to turn my head when I was a kid and my aunts and uncles hugged me when it was hot out and everyone smelled a little earthy since no one wore deodorant back then. But nobody really minded.  My aunts and mother would put springs of lilacs in their bras and all us girls smelled like Coppertone oil and Gee-Your-Hair-Smells-Terrific shampoo and chlorine and sun from swimming all day.  Our breath, sweet and spicy from Fireball Gobstoppers and Popeye Candy Cigarettes.  And the Viburnum at night. The rich, sweet smell of them was heavenly, and the crickets would wake up, and we’d hide under the table together with our Barbies and cinnamon toothpicks to listen - and hope that our parents would forget that we were up way too late.  I loved it when my father's family would come from Germany to visit. All of us happily crammed into one house, with everyone from town over late, every night, and the wonderful smells from my mother's kitchen, where she and my aunts always seemed to be baking something for us. The music and the happy laughter of my father and his sister and brothers, acting like kids again, themselves. It was everything I knew in one place. And everything was right in the world.

When Frankie was in her coma, I would sit by her bed, listening to the hospital sounds and wonder at the fact that, even with all of the machines that were keeping her alive, nurses walking in and out,  doctors voices, the scritch of their pen as they noted something in her chart, and the occasional voice calling one of them to another ward, far away - it was oddly peaceful there. Once the initial panic was over, we settled in to the alternating hope and dread, and even boredom of days and nights in the ICU.  I would imagine that she was only sleeping, like a princess in a fairy tale, once you could see past all of the tubes and instruments that were attached to her.  I often wondered if she was dreaming.  If she was remembering how I would sing her to sleep when we were very young.  Or the walks through the forest in Germany so long ago, and how afraid she was that we wouldn’t find our way home in the night.  How the moths clung to our lanterns and the mosquitoes buzzed around us, and the stars and fireflies woke up, and seemed to lead the way.  My Dad and my uncles sang all the way home to my aunt and uncles house, where feather beds would be waiting for us - even in summer. Where the light from the porch lamp pooled on the cobblestones under our feet.  I imagined that it was that light that warmed them, even though I now know, it was the late afternoon sun and they were just holding its warmth into the night.  I imagined her now, being led back to us, along that secret path. Back to my voice, singing to her as she slept.

She told me once, after she woke from another of her comas, that she heard me singing to her, and that, although she was frightened, it was a comfort to her. When she woke up the last time,
and had lost so many years of her memory from the fever, she still - somehow - knew the words to some of the songs I had sung to her, even though most of them were from the years that were otherwise lost to her.

It proved to me that we are always connected, even when we think that one of us may be lost.

-Carla




In Between - Carla Muller - Feb 28, 2016 (amended July 29, 2016)

I smell brandy and tobacco, and I swear, it smells like home
And the sweet viburnum summer nights that I will always know
And Mama’s in the kitchen as the sun is setting low
We are all we’ve ever, all we’ve ever known

There are places in between what is far and what is home
And though time is fast, I’m guessing that it’s best we didn’t know
And even if I can’t remember all the words, and what they mean
I still love you, and the way you sang to me

There are those so close, you can’t tell where you end and they begin
All your stories, they are known; and all places, they have seen
And family’s just a name for those you can’t quite call your friends
But I know that you’ll forgive me, in the end

And there are places in between what is family, what is not and
I have seen you on the footpaths of my dreams, but I’d forgotten
And even if I can’t remember all the words, and what they mean
I still love you, and the way you sang to me

In the quiet of machines and footfalls, close around my bed
There’s a path here, in the forest;  back to home, away from death
And the voices of the past are often comforting to me
And the hours are far too short for me to linger, lost in dreams

And there are places far between what is living, what is not, and
I have seen you on the footpaths of my dreams, but I’d forgotten
And even if I can’t remember all the words, and what they mean
I still love you, and the way you sang to me

I still love you, and the way you sang to me

I held you close this morning, in my arms, and felt so sad
And I cried for all the nevers, and for all I’ve ever had
And I know that I will see you once again, my little ones
And we’ll while away the hours in the sun

And I have seen you on the footpaths of my dreams, lost in time
Your face just like the others, so familiar, and mine
And I have wanted, I have wanted, so much more more, but life’s not that way
So I’ll write our songs and wait another day

And there are places in between what is lost and what is home
And though time is fast, I’m guessing that it’s best we didn’t know
And even if I can’t remember all the words, and what they mean
I still love you, and the way you sang to me
Oh, I still love you, and the way you sang to me