When I think about what to blog next, if it's something heartfelt or emotional, I try to apply the Oreo effect in my delivery. The theory is that if you have something "constructive" or "unpleasant" to communicate, you begin and end with something positive. I can't recall from where I learned of the Oreo effect, but I try to keep it in mind during verbal and written communication, if nothing else, the "end on a good note" part. Who wants to read a blog that makes you want to open a vein at the end of the post? Besides, I always take the top off my Oreos and mash two together to make double stuffed. The bottom retains the icing, so that's the one I keep. That's why we don't keep Oreos in our house.
I told Corey today on the phone that if he was here, I would slap him in the face and then kiss him passionately. I hate him, but I love him. I never want to see him again, and I need him desperately. Some husbands would be offended, but, I'm a lucky girl, and mine was not. Like if Venus and Serena were supposed to play doubles against some other really good team that I don't know because I don't do tennis and I only know the Williams Sisters because they're obnoxious....and then Venus broke her leg but Serena still had to play that other team (I'm going to say they're world champions, because this analogy needs to be more complicated) all. by. herself. Poor Serena. She would probably be more determined to win, because she was the sole player for their team. And she would feel so badly for her sister in broken-leg pain but would be mad at her for breaking her damn leg and abandoning her. It wouldn't matter that Venus did not break her leg on purpose. It would only matter that she was gone and poor Serena had to fend for herself against double the foe.
At night I lay in bed and count forward eight hours to think of where he is and what he's doing. Our skies are lit differently, so we can't even look up and see the same celestial beings. He lays down on a single bed with PotteryBarn Kids Superman sheets I sent him, each piece sealed in a freezer bag so it would arrive in Iraq 10 days later still smelling of our home. I crawl into our bed of crisp, white sheets and quilts and duvets with ample pillows and watch Golden Girls until my eyes get heavy, then I roll over onto his pillow and try to fall asleep. He went to sleep at 2:30 AM, after he Skyped the boys. The three of us were eating pizza rolls while he was falling asleep. Now, they are upstairs asleep and I am soon to follow, and the sun is coming up in Iraq. I have never felt so distant and so close to someone. Supported and alone. Proud and resentful. Single and taken.
But hey, we do what we gotta do. I know how loved and lucky I am. How loved and lucky my family is. This misery, discomfort and loneliness is temporary, which makes it a lot less miserable, uncomfortable and lonely. My dad swears my Grandmother used to say "This too shall pass." There are times in every day where my clouds part and rays of sunshine peek through. Tonight it was playing UNO with the boys.
They are on such emotional rollercoasters, but overall, their progress is very normal, which to me, makes it positive. An exaggerated response to grief, or no response at all would put me in "oh holy shit" mode. Jake has visible waves of aggression. Landen seems to have his periods of clinginess. Tonight, after they were clean from head to toe, instead of climbing in bed, we sat on the floor and played two rounds of UNO. Jake won the first game. He plays UNO on my iPhone, so he's got some strategy. Landen had never played, and he has sportsmanship issues, BUT he won the second game. His reaction was like watching a movie when the struggling quarterback watches the unlikely hero cross the goal line and score the touchdown. His fists are thrown up in the air. He jumps up. He yells "YEAH!"
For twenty minutes of UNO, there was no absence or aggression or loss or vulnerability or loneliness. There was just cards. And laughing. And the three of us encouraging each other. Growing up in my house, we played cards. I played go fish with my mom, and then as I grew older, I would crawl into bed with her and kick her ass at gin. I can remember my parents and I sitting around our formal dining table playing spades when I was 11 or 12. Or sitting on the linoleum floor with my dad playing Solitaire. It was one way we connected with each other, and a side effect of card playing is that you talk to each other. Converse.
I think that Jake and Landen knew we'd stumbled upon something that felt very good to us, because all three of us sometimes struggle to feel good. They asked last night if we could play again tonight, and asked this morning if they could play every night they were with me. We can, and we will, because we give ourselves a little bit of freedom from feeling, just being together, and being present.
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