Advice from Clem...

There aren't many people who know the extent of my insomnia. When I mentioned it to Clem, he asked, "What do you do?" In the 17 years that I have lived with it, I have done many things. He suggested writing. So I am. I have journaled since I was in high school and extensively journaled during my years as a PCV. But right now, what I would like to concentrate on is the here and now.
Since last blogging, Puddles had his birthday and I had mine. Puddles took his first step the week after he turned one. Then he got pneumonia shortly after that. That will be a whole other blog. My birthday has always been a sore spot--I was born the day after my abusive Grandmother and my oblivious Mom always had us celebrate them together. Had these birthdays been video recorded, you could have made a whole montage of me, as various ages, at different parts of the parties, running to my bedroom crying.
Flash forward to this birthday. Clem was always good about calling on birthdays. Except my birthdays abroad, he always called. My other 5 siblings did, indeed call. This helped. Jaybe and my Mom, however both forgot my birthday. That night he brought me home a piece of luggage as a present. Also...2 weeks ago, he bought a bike from a co-worker that cost just $75 less than our mortgage payment. Granted, our mortgage payments are not huge, but we are not rich and he did not discuss this with me and I ended up bouncing 2 payments, making it, pretty much our mortgage payment. I know that he has issues with being the bread winner and 'man of the house' as I raise our little ones--and I am looking for outside work sources. The anxiety that causes my insomnia makes my prospects somewhat limited. But he is the one who, when we first started having children, wanted me to raise the kids and not work. Many of his issues revolve around the fact that I become somewhat overwhelmed with sorting house and making house, etc. that our house gets cluttered with hand-me down toys and clothes from relatives and I have trouble sorting through them.
When I told Clem that Jaybe had anger issues, he said, "i am so sorry, honey." Since Jaybe never apologizes, that was really reassuring. The other night, that was my last thought before I went to bed and I didn't have to take anything to help me sleep.
I didn't mean to get off on that tangent, but I miss Clem. His role in my life, I have come to realize lately one of protector on Earth. I always felt safe that if I got into a real jam, he could help me out. God, I miss him. I also have trouble remembering if he ever held my one-year-old. My older boy will always remember him because he took him up in a plane. Now he wants to be a pilot or an astronaut.