fam-damn-ily.

there is nothing like time spent with a person from my other family.

you know the one i mean.  that family that you choose, surround yourself with, pledge yourself to; even though you don't share one whit of dna.  this is the family of friends i'm speaking of.  people who love you as much as your blood relatives but without the damaging history or guilt.

sigh.

i jumped in badly tonight with melanie watching; told my mom that we were going to the cape one day this week with the kids and she just threw it back, telling me that it wasn't fair that i was taking a day away from her.  that i wouldn't understand until i had my own grandkids how unfair it feels.

i argued back, vindictive and strong.  the wrong tactic to take, always.  i learn and then i forget, especially in moments like these.

eventually she said "whatever" and i know this takes a lot out of her to say this, to acquiesce,but nevertheless i felt myself come close to losing it. 

when i hugged melanie goodbye i really wanted her to grab me and take her with her.

i'm without the buffer of my ever-patient, ever-supportive husband.

there have been so many things written about blood family: i have nothing new or important to say about it, other than it is always a work in progress.  i am always trying.  i am always breathing.  i am always looking for a pause, and let my body sit quietly for a minute.

i am always forgiving, and asking for forgiveness.

i am always struggling, and giving into the struggle.

i am always attempting.  

a lot has changed since i grew up recently.  it used to be that i couldn't let a moment pass without flailing my judgment haphazardly.  i'm a better listener, i think.  at least most of the time.  i'm hopeful that when i grow all the way up i'll be able to take care of everyone, including myself, and find grace in each situation handed to me.

meanwhile, i take these days away with my oldest friend: lunch at whole foods, random shopping and fragments of conversations flitted from one store to the next, laughing hard at a movie together, finding myself again through the company of a decades-old friendship.  fueling myself up for the inevitable return to the people who i belong to, and who belong to me. this is the work of my life in the summertime. 

i'm grateful for every second of it.

faded.

three days in, and we're all exhausted.

i've slept with both kids for the past couple of nights, which is problematic.  i try to remind myself that they won't want this forever, but its hard to hold that close at 3am with knees in my lower back and yet another elbow in my breast.  i love them, but i want my own space at night.

this, coupled with the fact that their father has had his own hotel bed for the past four days weighs on me.

milo has decided that there is nothing to live for except the next minecraft time, which means he's refusing card and board games with his grandfather.  i know this is normal and all, but why does he have to be such a dick about it?

selkie won't leave my dad alone, which he loves.  she keeps crawling all over him, snuggling in deep.  he told her the other day that he's pretty sure her tailbone has grown more pointy since the winter, to which she replied, "i've been working on that."

yesterday my brother and i drove into worcester to buy beer at a local brewery.  this is something my brother does.  we sat at the bar and had a beer together and talked a bit.  pretty sure that this is the kind of bonding my mother was swooning about before we left together, but better not to comment on it too much.  don't want to call attention to it.

meanwhile, my parents argue about regular things: washing clothes, the pool toys, dinner choices, etc.  it's comforting and ridiculous at the same time.

a few days ago i went to the public library, the home of my first real job.  i sat up in the mezzanine (or what they call the "quiet study" now) and wrote some stuff, did some work, daydreamed out the window.  it was a cloudy day, drizzly and warm, and i felt like i could've been any age.  it could've been me at 17 or me at 67.  i was timeless.

i also went to yoga this morning.  haven't been in thousands of years, and it felt so good.  it was aided by the fact that the teacher had a strong mass accent, so things like "downwahd dog" and "find youah

centa" went straight to my heart-core.

i've gotten really good at driving my parents' kia.

tonight we'll roast s'mores by the pool again, and watch as milo burns his to a crisp and selkie patiently browns hers to a warm glow.  they'll play with their cousins, watch a movie, try to go to sleep under the massachusetts sky.

meanwhile, i'll be more myself, somehow.  i'll be more of what i am and less of what i was.  i'll be alternately at home and a stranger in a strange, strange land. 

my dad just said, "can we take a little break so i can have some beer?"  he's trying to teach my niece how to swim, and she's seconds away from it happening.  

little miracles in any language.

things i saw.

on the way to target.

inside of target.

old stone wall.

spooky cemetary.  rest in peace, josephine.

star moss.

i am miss worcester.

no words.

rainy day.

regulate.

my suitcase is the perfect visual example of my state of mind right now.

i'm finding it hard to focus on my many tasks at hand, and part of this is because as soon as i walk into my parents' house i feel discombobulated, like i'm in pieces.  i feel jumbled up.  i need drawers to place my different tasks in but there isn't enough space due to the overwhelming amount of stuff around me.

so instead, i take a nap.

so far today i've told my mother that everytime she has real mayonnaise she should consider the fact that she just took off a year of her life.  i also got pissed off at her because the vegan mayo that i got in the winter has disappeared from her fridge.  all of this happened in front of four stampin' up customers who sat busily working on cards in our dining room.

too much?

my kids have watched over five hours of tv already today, and its only 2pm.  let go, let go, let go.

i'm trying to rally to get myself to the franklin ymca and then to the franklin public library, to do some focused work.  to make myself myself again.

i'm okay.  i'm okay.  i'm okay.

sights to be seen.

while my husband and my friend are driving from vegas to salt lake, taking in all the sights, i decided to show you what my view has been like these past few hours.

the kids are in the pool while my dad listens to the Red Sox game.  my mom is teaching a stampin' up class upstairs.  i made dinner.  we've already been to target, and selkie already has a new pair of shoes, courtesy of my mother.

i am walking around while asleep, but yet it makes me so aware of this place.

i found tiny cards that belonged to my great-grandmother.  my dad's handwritten sign (always in capitals) tacked to the wall.  the wall itself; an unfinished tearing down of the wallpaper.  the entryway to our house, or my mom's business.  my dad's wall of hats.

there's been a bunny who's visited my dad's garden, and selkie working out on his old-fashioned treadmill while singing herself silly.  there's been milo and his cousin johnny wrestling and playing round after round of minecrap.  there's been me at whole foods, dropping two hundred dollars on food to comfort me with, knowing that as soon as i got home my mother would freak out at how much i bought.

she did.

last night, as we were leaving logan airport, this is the verbatim conversation i had with her: (keep in mind it was about 1:45 in the morning, but know that it was very true to most of our conversations)

her: "so what's new?"

me: "barb, i really can't talk about that kind of stuff right now--"

her: "EZ PASS EZ PASS LANE!"

me: "i'm IN the ez pass lane, mom!"

her: "20 MILES AN HOUR! IT CAN'T READ IT IF YOU DON'T SLOW--"

me: (after cruising through the toll at 34 mph) "see? thank you!"

her: "how fast are you going?  oh, my poor car! (hear a mass. accent on this one)"

me: "i'm going 74, barb. i want to get home."

her: "but there are cops! SLOW DOWN!!"

(my parents share a kia.  its white, and the driver's side door has a faded stampin'-up barbara lash sticker on it.  it is embarrassing to drive it.)

me: "let's see what this baby can do..." (acceleration)

her: "HOLLY ANN FRANCES LASH!!!"

meanwhile, in the backseat, my children are laughing at this entire exchange.  they know by now that this is the way we communicate, and that it does nothing to diminish the amount of love that we feel for each other.  we just show it a little bit differently than most.

we made it home in record time, by the way.

conversations from the plane.

(this is what i heard on the plane.  i'm now on the ground in franklin...but its too good not to post anyway.)

"i'm telling you, i spent $100,000 on shit, man.  i fucked myself up real good.  i have mad anxiety and that's why i took mad pills. . . 

and their parents have mad money, yo, seriously.  there is some fucked up shit going on there. . .

(while i write this there is a workman on the plane, trying to fix a seat.  we could all be doomed. also, i'm wondering who is the third person among this group behind me.  i'll have to steal a look. . .)

"dude, the fucking bruins!"

"dude, i just bought these fresh-ass true religion jeans, but then i got fucked up--i got jumped, dude--and then i went home for christmas with slices on my face."

"that's when i decided i had to live in california, cause i couldn't live like that anymore."

(the pilot just let us know it's going to be another few minutes, because the FAA told him he has to tell us while we sit here.  meanwhile, i've discovered the woman in the row with the two young massachusetts boys is quietly sitting there with wide eyes.  i think she's shellshocked.)

"dude, i pay $1750 in rent in santa monica, and i don't even have screens on my windows.  i don't even have a fucking stove!"

"i'm only 22, dude."

"i've been boxing and shit, and my coach is like, you gotta quick smoking cigarettes, dude."

"it's legit, yo."

"usually marl reds or marl mediums."

(meanwhile, i packed my earbuds in my suitcase, so i have to dig through my wallet to find two dollars in change.  how can i pass up this opportunity to watch bravo for five hours?)

(the boys are discussing how sick chew is.)

(plane yoga.  anyone?  thoughts?)

"I'm actually working at rehab right now."

"that's all you need, dude, just a tiny step."

(babies are trying to go to sleep.  no motion for them.  no motion for us.  oh sweet airplane, rock us gently, please, for the love of christ.)

"i think my seat's broken too, but i'm not going to say anything about it! fuck!" (raucous laughter)

(we've been on the plane for 45 minutes.  not moving.)

(milo just realized that we hadn't left LA yet.  mesmerized by sponge bob.)

as the babies cry around me, i realize that this is an exercise in acceptance.  we are all trapped here together, sharing the stale air and saying prayers to our respective gods to help the pause in all of our lives find a way to unstick itself from this place, this tarmac, this Los Angeles.  help us, anyone who can.  help us recognize the futility of ourselves.

help those poor babies.  but especially those poor parents.

"i have to go now.  i have to stop talking on the phone.  i have to use the bathroom!  goodbye. . ."

delayed.

"the potato chips are frickin' blue, dude!"

been on the Tarmac for two hours, people. feeling really good. feeling full of hope. handing out food to my fellow passengers in hopes that good will fuels the plane.

massachusetts, we'll hopefully see you around 1am. 

meanwhile, even bravo tv is making me bonkers.

gods of travel, have mercy on our poor souls, especially the guy behind me who just called his friend and told him about the chips then said, "dude, i'm gonna fucking kill somebody. i'm about to fucking snap."

i gave him some pretzels a few minutes ago. i hope it helps.