The weather is getting much better. It has been warm enough outside to wear shorts although the breeze coming off the ocean is still kind of cold. The cherry blossom trees are beginning to bloom so I expect there’ll be a few people complaining of sinus allergies soon enough. It’s already started at a few offices I’ve visited in the past 2 weeks. All the workers assured me it was just allergies and not the flu.

I’ve been very busy these past few weeks, sorting through clothes, packing away winter stuff, packing away all of Kamalani’s baby clothes, tossing out most of my favorite stay-at-home puka clothes that I’ve had for at least 10 - 15 years. I get very attached to certain clothes because it usually reminds me of an event or person.

I’m not just bad about parting with things, I’m really bad about parting with things. One year, one of my cousins was having twins and he and his girlfriend were still very young and they didn’t have much money so one of my aunts asked if I would like to give them some of my kids’ baby clothes. Mind you, my 3 sons had already gone through these clothes and I knew I was going to have a daughter so it should’ve been easy for me to hand the boys clothes over. I stored the clothes in an old suitcase in the closet. I was happy to be asked to help another relative but when I unzipped that suitcase and saw all the clothes that I kept since the birth of my first son, my heart started aching. I lifted each and every item to my nose and inhaled the stale Ivory Detergent scent. My eyes were filled with tears and my aunt saw how attached I was to it. She felt really bad and told me it was okay if I couldn’t give them away. It was pretty silly now that I think about it but they brought back memories of my babies and it felt as if I was giving away a part of my kids.

One summer, when Megs was only two years old, my mom asked for them to visit her for the summer. I’m only human so I jumped at the opportunity of getting a break from the kids for a few weeks. The day after they left, my hubby came home from work and found me in their room sitting on the bed with their clothes to my nose, inhaling their scent and crying my butt off. He told me not to think of them or they’ll have a hard time sleeping at night. You see, we believe that babies can feel when their parents’ think of them too much. They get fussy or they might get sick and since they weren’t with me, I didn’t want them to be fussy or sick but it was hard not to miss them.

This time, as I went through Kamalani’s old clothes, I thought about how hard it was back then for me to let go. There are still a lot of clothes that I want to keep just because it reminds me of her but it’s not as hard to let go of most of them like it was those many years ago. The thought of paying out of pocket for exceeding the weight limit is incentive enough.

Happy Belated Easter!

I’m tired of the cold weather. I guess that’s not a good sign if we’ve purchased our retirement home in Washington. Maybe it’s not the weather. It might just be cabin fever. I want to be able to drive somewhere during the day and not have to worry about running over a bunch of Japanese people when I’m trying to make a turn. I also don’t want to worry about my car being marked or towed away. Lord knows where it will end up or how far I’d need to go to retrieve my car. So, it’s either walk with the rest of them or keep my butt parked at home. Sure, I could drive around the base, but why?

At least there are things out in town in Washington where I can take Kamalani when she’s getting in my hair at home. It’s not her fault really, I’m old and can’t keep up with her. She’s extremely active and she always needs attention. What she really needs are cousins nearby so she can have playmates her age.

I signed her up for daycare for next week so I could do some organizing before the Packing inspection but it’s hard because she wants to play all the time and I feel bad if I don’t keep her active and busy. By the time she goes to bed at night, I’m just as bushed as she is so I end up sleeping too. Anyway, when she heard me setting up the dates and times on the phone, she started crying and saying she’ll be good. Poor girl thinks I’m sending her because she drives me crazy. I felt really bad but we I need to get things straightened up at home so we don’t ship things we’ll end up tossing at the other end. We can’t afford to be paying out more monies for being over our weight limit again.

I’ve been comforting her and reassuring her that I’ll be there to pick her up when I said I would. It’s been many months since she’s gone to day care so she’s apprehensive again. I told her that she might see some of her friends, in hopes that it’ll help ease her mind. I’m really ready for this move, it’ll be good for both of us. I hope, anyway.

I’m in pain. Well, more in the head than on my foot. I went to my follow-up appointment yesterday and found out that the anti-biotics I took wasn’t working because there was a little sign of infection. Stupid me, I thought the redness surrounding the wound was due to the injections from the numbing medicine.

He removed the dressing that I had so expertly applied to my wound and sighed. He started probing the reddened area around the wound and shook his head. There’s some infection there. Then he said, keep your feet elavated. That’s really all I heard. I blocked out the part about soaking it and scrubbing it. I winced and cringed when he said that though. Is he on crack? It hurts! Why would I want to scrub any more than I already did? I had imagined those green scouring pads against the wound and that thought was not very pleasant. He prescribed me another type of antibiotics with a longer period of time to take it.

I almost forgot that I went to remove the cyst because it was occasionally painful. This new constant pain makes me forget why I went in to begin with. I wrote to hubby and told him that I needed to hire a housekeeper, nanny and cook by doctor’s orders so I could keep my foot elavated. He hasn’t responded to that message yet. Should I hold my breath?

This isn’t a coming out post. In fact, it has very little to do with lesbianism.

A few nights ago, Kamalani wanted to get on the computer while Meg was online. After a few failed attempts at booting her mom to the curb, she blurted out, “my mom is a lesbian”. Meg gasped and said, “Kamalani, I’m telling grandma what you said.” So of course I was curious and asked. I fought very hard not to laugh at what she said but Megan couldn’t contain her laughter so Kamalani kept repeating it.

Then I asked her what lesbian means? She thought for a moment, obviously trying to recall where she had heard it, then responded with, “it’s when people hate each other”. So, I asked her where she heard that word. Then she said, “Mommy was talking to J on the phone and she said ‘If you return and we start hanging out together, people will think we’re lesbians’. So that’s why I said mommy is a lesbian.”

I looked at Meg and told her that she really needs to watch what she says in front of Kamalani, even if it doesn’t seem as though she’s paying attention. Because she’s ALWAYS paying attention. Of course Kamalani thought it was a cool word to repeat so she started walking around the house reciting her new tantra, “Mommy is a lesbian, mommy is a lesbian”. I wanted to laugh so badly, but being the adult as well as the mean gramma, I had to put an end to it.

Rest assured, I’m laughing to myself as I type this.

I’m always afraid to spread good news because I always feel as if I jinx myself if I do (more…)