I registered AJ for preschool today, so I can stop stressing about it. I�ve literally been waking up at night worrying about it. I�m not a generally anxious person, so whenever something like this happens, it�s usually because I�m channeling all of my anxieties about the world at large into a single event, which subsequently gets totally blown out of proportion. In this case, preschool. It turns out that AJ�s current school, which we�ve been quite happy with, despite the fact that we did virtually no research before we plopped him in there, offers the three-day per week schedule that we wanted. If we can get in. I should know by Friday if we made the cut. At worst, he�ll be in a two day a week class and I�ll just try to find some other activity to keep my busy boy occupied.

Contributing anxieties are probably my dissertation (as always) and my grandmother. My parents are currently on the left coast trying to help my grandmother sell the home she�s lived in for the last twenty years. She�s been living alone there for the last decade since my grandfather died and it�s becoming too much for her when she doesn�t have family nearby to help her. My mother was hoping to convince her to move closer to them (on the opposite side of the country), but my grandmother�s not ready to make that big a leap, so she�s moving to small apartment in a nearby retirement community. They are trying to make repairs and go through the house to get rid of a lifetime of accumulated objects. It�s been very hard on my mom, I think. She said she�s trying to make decisions about things without my grandmother, because it�s just too hard for her to do, but, as she put it, �How do you tell her she should throw out a box of baby shoes?�

My grandmother has always been a generous person. As a small child I remember being afraid to admire things in her house because often she would insist that you take them. I have a hand mirror that she gave me when when I was small. I always felt a little guilty about it, even though I had no idea she would just give it to me when I said I thought it was pretty. I am certain she�d be overjoyed to disperse her possessions if she knew they would have as much meaning to the recipients. But they rarely do. A box of baby shoes always means more to the mother than to the grown up babies. No one will love them as much as she does.

Overshadowing all of this is decades of family drama. My mom has two sisters. One has a demanding job and is unable to be there for the moving process, but has been actively involved by phone. But the other has not been seen or even spoken of in the family for nearly thirty years. She is a ghost no one will acknowledge, the elephant in the room. I know everyone must be thinking that she should be there.

It is interesting how we imbue objects with emotion. As a child moving every year or two, my small possessions were very important to me because they were what enabled me to recognize a place as home. As an adult I aspire to having nothing but meaningful things in my home, although I�m not sure that is entirely practical. And of course, things acquire meaning through use � you have to start somewhere.

My mother is also confronting the fact that her mother is old. It�s not like she didn�t know, but since they live so far away, she doesn�t see her often enough to see it happening. I think she�s having a hard time confronting the reality. I�m sure I will have the same experience when it is my turn to play that role. They are always young. They are always your parents. They are always there.

Kind of a downer today. Sorry about that. I guess I�ve also been thinking a bit about odalisk and minderella who are dealing with more difficult grandparent issues of their own.

Also, thanks to whomever nominated me for a diarist award. I appreciate the vote of confidence!

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