William

Woot! Woot!I found everything! Here’s a short list of what has been missing since the move:

pin tomato
large rotary cutter
2 pair gingher scissors (dress shears and little nippers)
Eco Shopper pattern
Anna dress pattern
Olivia dress pattern
Redondo pattern
Ottobre 4/04
Ooga Booga PUL
Hot pink print PUL
Most of my maxi lock swrils
All of my aplix
all of my FOE
Size tags

I found all of the above, to much rejoicing, at the bottom of a stack of totes. It was labeled “sewing basement” and not in my handwriting. So I can’t blame myself and my dim, forgetful ways of late. I cannot tell you how much I have missed my shears. And everything else. When I go to Target, I see their sad sack version of a reusable shopping bag and it made me want the EcoShopper pattern and I couldn’t find it. I totally know what I’m doing tomorrow!

I also found the Binsi knockoff skirt that I had made the night before Amelia was born and gave it to my IRL pregnant friend who will be birthing sometime soon. And the carseat cover that I made when Amelia was tiny and we had an early cold snap that year.

Other than that, I have discovered that I have a basement full of garage sale fodder. I mean, who keeps cassette tapes? Is it just nostalgia at this point? Will I ever rock out to Appetite for Descruction? Slow dance to Poison? Cruise the square with Jon Bon Jovi? I also have a suitcase that was part of my high school graduation gift from my grandparents. As much as I don’t want to part with such a useful gift, it’s been a while since the teal green samsonite pullman saw the light of day. Anybody need 2 microwaves? Got ’em.

Dishes. I call them the “Rhino” dishes.

Stephen was married before me. He used to call her the “rhino” because everytime we’d see her around town, she’d lower her head and plow through whoever to get out of the way, like a rhino charging through the jungle.

These are the MIkasa dishes that were their “everyday” dishes. Service for 4 (missing one dinner plate). They didn’t entertain much. She could screwup boiling a cup of water. And he was working his butt off. I’m sure it was something on their wedding registry because that was the kind of wedding/invite list that it was. I would really like to break them into tiny bits and make a mosaic or something equally artsy and theraputic. I would get rid of them entirely but he picked out the pattern. On his own. As an act of defiance against his soon to be bride. (red flag, red flag!) She always hated it and said it looked to manly. It’s a very distinctive pattern with deep blues, browns and flecks of black on a cream background.

So what to do with the dishes?

On a happier note (although not as happy as the sewing room find) I also found the album of WIll’s pictures from his birth and the next week. Before he got sick. I need to figure out my stinkin scanner because I would really love to share them and how looking at them almost 6 years later, they are really poingnant. I haven’t looked at them since Ella was a baby and she found the album and we went through them picture by picture. It was the first conversation we had about her brother. The first she could understand anyway.

He needs his own scrapbook. A “before” “during” and “after”. So three.

I forgot something really important until just now. When Will died, I was mourning lots of things. Not just the physical loss of him. It was the loss of “normal”. It was the loss of privacy in his rehab and EDI. It was the loss of time, in and out of specialists offices at a hospital 2 hours away with doctors who had no time but their own. It was the loss of confidence in my mothering skills, our parenting skills. Loss of income when Stephen stayed home with him until we could find a suitable daycare.

At the time, I had wondered what Will’s purpose was. Why are some parents sent this child who begins perfect and then gets very, very sick. The child is sent to parents who don’t know any better, who’s only knowledge of anything medical came from watching “ER” in college. Why is denial so powerful? We just might have made different choices for him if we had known how it would end. But, as they say, is neither here nor there.

I do think that Will was sent to be with his dad. I think it was part of a much larger plan. Larger than we could or will ever see. Stephen and I talked about that when he was first diagnosed. What if he was supposed to go and be with Will and I was supposed to stay here and be with these girls. And we have to believe that we will be a family of 5 someday together. We must believe it. No matter what issues I have with my own faith, I do trust that my boys are together wherever they are. I know that they have found each other.

TIme will change things. Just like I knew that my sewing stuff…the best stuff…would come out in the end. We’d move boxes around and around and it would catch somebody’s eye and there it would be.

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