Most of us Have Survived our Children

   I just did the most detestable thing. It is even one of my pet peeves...

   I gave advice.  I gave advice to a younger mom.

   Okay, so I was subtle, but there it was...

   She has two children. They are still so little... One is not even a year old yet.

   Ahhhh... how I remember those days.

   Those are the days that make me cringe.

   I was once and independent woman. I was once someone who could solve major problems for a large company... and then I found myself at the grocery store with a cart full of diapers and groceries, a two month old, a two year old and a problem.

    I had to go to the bathroom.

    Urgently.

    There were three carts in every line. I was not to get any relief soon. I could not bear to put my infant nor my toddler on a public bathroom floor, and could not figure out how to unbutton my pants while carrying two children...

     So I did the only thing that could be done.

     I burst into tears, left my groceries and drove home immediately.

     I had been rendered completely helpless by these children. Going to the restroom had just become unbelievably complicated.

     So here I was, outside, confessing my helplessness...and I spotted another future horror for this young mom. Her baby was in the stroller, but it was clear that his stroller days were numbered.

     I told her, "There will come a time very soon, where the stroller will just make him cry, he will want to walk with you... and there will come a time when they will be walking in opposite directions and make you lose your mind...."  I saw the realization wash over her face as I continued, "but it will be brief. They will learn quickly to stay together. You will be okay. Just remind yourself..."

      I had done it. I detest advice and yet I had just done it...

     I see how it happens now. I remember the fear. I remember the frustration. I remember... and I thought I could plant a tiny seed.. I thought I could plant a little voice in her head to say, "this will not last forever"....

     I guess, truthfully, I don't even remember if someone ever told me that. I do remember thinking often that I would surely not survive. The children would surely not survive. I could not keep them safe. I could not even keep them together....

     Someone probably told me.

     I probably either didn't listen, or couldn't retain the information. I was so absorbed by ensuring there were diapers, clothes, food, and everything else needed every day in addition to working full time.

    Two is so very different than one. I was overwhelmed a lot when they were little.

    I do remember one tidbit from my neighbor. She had four children and had come over to rescue me one day. I had tears streaming down my face. "I have tried to leave the house, but someone is constantly pooping or needing to eat, or throwing up..."

     I was exasperated. I had accomplished nothing that morning.

     She told me, "It's okay, go run your errand. I will be here. It gets better. The second one is the hardest to adjust to, if you are going to have two children, you might as well have ten."

     I obviously did not believe her. I have two children. That is it.

     I had zero confidence in my abilities after the second child.

     I was also pretty sure that my IQ was dropping from poop fumes.

     I love my children dearly...but I will try to remember not to give advice. I will try to smile and try to remind them that it will all be okay. They will have their own trials. Their children will be different.

     As for my neighbor, I will say a little prayer to make up for giving her advice. She will survive. We all have... I think.. Well, most of us have...

    

Memories of Rap and Heavy Metal Cures

    When I was seventeen years old, I received a card in the mail from the dentist's office.
     The card simply stated that I had an appointment scheduled for 7:30 a.m. on Thursday. I had not scheduled an appointment, and had just been to the dentist for a cleaning a few weeks before, so I asked my dad if he knew anything about it.
      My dad shrugged it off, but that Thursday morning, my dad met me at the office. His being there made me a bit more edgy, since I generally handled my own appointments.
      I took the clipboard and began filling out the forms. The next thing that made me edgy was this form. It was different. I answered the questions and came to "Have you taken any medications today?" and "Have you eaten today?" and started to shake.
      I didn't know what was about to happen, but these were not the standard questions.
     When I completed the form, a male nurse took me to a room with a reclined chair and asked me to sit down.
     When the doctor came in, he told me to open my mouth. I did, and then heard the male nurse say, "Sir, should I get some scrubs for her to wear so we don't get blood on her white sweater?"
      BLOOD?  On my sweater? On my WHITE sweater? It was actually a white cashmere sweater that I had purchased on my last trip to the U.S.  What were they going to do to me?
      The doctor then explained. "Your xrays indicated that your wisdom teeth need to come out. They are facing forwards instead of the correct direction to come through the gums naturally. Also, you simply do not have room for them."
     "Prom is tomorrow..." I stammered... 
     The doctor told me he could wait one week if that would help, but that it needed to be done. 
     Who are we kidding? If I get up from this chair, I will never come back. I am afraid of all things dentist.
      So, I changed into scrubs and sat back down in the chair, accepting my fate.
     Just as I was getting the gas, a man walked in. A man in uniform with a purple and black face. His face was swollen and he looked terrible.
      The doctor jumped up to speak with him, it seemed there was a bit of irritation and then the doctor came back to me. My eyes were bulging. I was terrified.
      The doctor reassured me, "That rarely every happens. It was a complication and the swelling will go down in a few days."
       Military doctors are not always known for bedside manner or compassion.
       That afternoon, my dad took me home, told me to stay in HIS chair. He said if I sit still, I would not have as much swelling. He said he would put my CD's in and he would change my gauze as needed.
      My dad did just that. He put six of my CD's in his player and hit random. My poor father listened to heavy metal, rap and whatever else all night long. My father brought me drinks and changed my gauze. He kept ice packs on me also. He did all of this without complaining, rolling his eyes or telling me how talentless the youth of the day were.
      The next morning, when I went to the bathroom, I looked at my face and began crying. I was already swollen...on one side. It was the day of prom and I looked like some sort of lop sided pumpkin.
     That night, my mom helped me into my dress, helped me with my make up and ensured that my pain pills were in my purse.
     Yeah, a week later would not have helped anyways. One week later was my graduation. On graduation day, I had a lovely bruise on one cheek, but most of the swelling was gone.
     Needless to say, there are no prom pictures of me that year.
     I called my dad tonight to remind him of this. He does not remember. Apparently, the stroke claimed that also...
    It doesn't matter. I called him to talk to him about it because I know, that if he thought sitting up with me all night listening to Beastie Boys, Run DMC, Metallica, Kiss and whatever else would help, that he would do it now.
     I know my dad still worries about me. I know he still wants to make it better. I also know that this is awful for him to watch.
      I know because my children will never be grown up enough for me not to worry and care.
      I wish I could give him that feeling again... That feeling that he was suffering for a reason, that the swelling would go down and all of this would just be an odd memory...
    

Keep Moving~Nothing to See Here

     I am working on so many changes. There are simply things that will change. There is no way around it. I just have to learn, adapt and grow.

     The clock is ticking. There are more changes coming, whether we like them or not. I feel like time is passing much too quickly now. I have a goal date. I have a date to be ready for. I have plans to make.

     I am currently packing more and more boxes. I really don't know why at this point. I cannot possibly buy the other house with no money and very little income. I just have to believe that God has a plan and that I have to be ready for it. I don't know if that includes me staying in this house, but it really does not look like that is going to work either...so I pack.

     I am also working on creating extra income without requiring me to be unavailable to those who need me right now. This one is proving to be more of a challenge. I am skeptical and do not believe in "get rich quick" schemes, but I do believe that with tenacity, I will find some way to provide for my family without leaving them unattended.

    I am also working on Christmas presents for my children. I have a couple of projects started, but I can only work on them after they go to bed. They are older now, so I must also remove all evidence that I was "up to something".

     I am hoping to be able to learn a few new skills. I have been up late at night the last few nights learning new skills online. I am very aware of my deficits right now. I am acutely aware of the brain damage as I take notes and repeat the same exersize over and over, trying to make sure I really understand it. I am also very aware of how grateful I am for recovering so well from the injury. I had gotten discouraged for a time, thinking that I had seen all of the improvement that I was going to see. I am aware that I have still been making improvements.

     Now, I just have to keep moving.

     I am still taking just a step at a time. I am still forcing my family to go on little family outings whenever possible. (Last night we went for a drive to an area where the hills and the trees made a magnificent fall scene.)  I am still making sure all of the medications and paperwork for everything else are being done properly.

     I am thankful that I am busy. It keeps me from utter collapse under the weght of everything. However, at this point, my life is resembling a video game with a giant, enormous, oversized bowling ball over my head... Keep moving or it will drop and squash me.

     This weekend I am also going to try out a few new recipes. I am cleaning my tall freezer this morning and hopefully will be able to stock it in a more orderly fashion with new prepared meals for this week. I also am going to do some of the Thanksgiving goodies in advance to save time next week. 

     Yes, next week, my mother will be here. Next week there will be no spare time for my odd little habits and goals. Next week I will be entertaining.

     Ahhhhh...

     I am most thankful that I am busy, but not too busy to remember to pull our family together. I am thankful that I don't have time to sit and wallow in the fear.

    I am praying that my husband still be with us for Thanksgiving.

    

Grains of Rice

   A very long time ago, when I was in my mid twenties, I was struggling with just about everything imaginable. I had an illness that resulted in temporary kidney failure, my marriage had just failed, and I was struggling with what I would do with my life and who I was going to become.

    Sounds dramatic right? When you are twenty, everything is dramatic. We somehow believe that we will make some grand decision and that is who we will become. We believe that we will make a choice in college and that is what we will do for the rest of our lives. It's no wonder that we drive ourselves half mad.

     In the midst of this drama of trying to heal, trying to keep my job, attend classes and simply recover, I was given some very good advice.

     For about a week, I found that I just could not shake the "ick" feeling. I was whiny, complaining, miserable with others and worst of all, miserable with myself. I saw doom and gloom in everything.

     I mentioned once that I was having a bit of trouble "shaking it off" and someone told me that I should pay attention to the little things.

     Of course, I thought they meant the trees, flowers, running water, you know?

      "The brain controls everything. It controls every breath you take, it controls your thoughts, it controls your comfort level."  He began.

      Uh huh, but I didn't feel like I was in control of my brain. That was kind of the problem.

      "The little things can add up to big things very quickly like the story about the rice on the chessboard. You begin with 1 grain of rice on the first square. You place 2 grains on the second square and so on. By the time you are at the tenth square, you have 1023 grains of rice and 54 squares left to go. By the time you reached the end of the squares, you would have used about  461,000,000,000 metric tons of rice." He took a breath as I wondered how this pertained to my situation.

     "You have a certain number of things going on that are beyond your control. Those are the grains of rice that you must accept. You must carry them for now. There are other things that you can control. You read articles about starving children and diseases in other countries and those weigh on you. You watch sad, scary or intense movies, and those weigh on you. You need to pay attention to those things right now and not accept the additional grains of rice. When you have a choice, fill your time with something hopeful and joyful."

     This sounded ridiculous to me. My problems were so huge. My burdens seemed so overwhelming, a movie hardly seemed like it would make a difference.

      "When you have moved the other grains out of the way, you will feel more like yourself, after about a week of intentional clearing, you need to volunteer to help someone in a worse situation than yourself."

      It seemed like that last part would just be another burden... I nodded politely.

     I really did not have any intention of following the advice. I really didn't intend to even give it any further thought.

       His words echoed in my mind when I sat down to watch TV. I scrolled through the menu and found myself skipping past the murder mysteries and dramas to comedy.

       The next few days I was more aware of my choices. I was more aware of when I could bypass the grains of rice just a little bit more.

      By the end of the week, I casually thought, "Okay, now to find something to do to help someone in a worse situation."

      I found something. I found something perfect. I did not walk away with a feeling of "Oh, suck it up, it could be worse, you could be like that person."

      Instead, I was surprised at how good I felt. It wasn't that I somehow felt better than that person. I didn't. It wasn't that I felt like I had been lifted of my burdens. I didn't. Those burdens were still there.

      I had something better from that experience. Yes, some things seem insurmountable. Some things seem beyond the scope of reason. I did not cure that person. I did not rescue them from their circumstance. I did not make it all better with my small gesture.

      Instead, I felt like I had removed one tiny grain of rice. It really wasn't so significant, except that I could see the possibility. I could see that one tiny grain of rice could add up to so much more. I could see that I had been a part of relieving someone of their 461,000,000,000 tons. I could see that every tiny thing makes a difference.

      I will always be grateful for that week. I will always be grateful that I told someone how I was feeling. That person was a math and engineering major. I had no way of knowing just how profoundly math could affect my every day life for years.

     Now, many years later, I still keep this bit of wisdom in the back of my mind when things are more challenging. If you see me flying a kite when it would seem that I have much more important things to deal with, it might just be that I am removing grains of rice from my chessboard.

    

Binoculars

    The events of this weekend scared me a bit more than I thought.

    I spoke to my Pastor and my mom about it. I had a few more questions. I had a few more things I needed to say.

     At one point, I told my mom, "I don't feel grown up enough to do any of this."

     My mom told me that she doesn't think that anyone does.

    

     I have never been an rage and anger, poor me, or my least favorite, "This isn't fair!" type of person.

     Life isn't fair.

     That's it. I could go on and on explaining the percentage of babies tomorrow that will be born into extreme poverty. How many babies will be fortunate enough to be born here, with vaccines, foods so plentiful that nutrition is an afterthought. Is that fair?

     I have tried to never utter that phrase.

     Every time I have to explain something that is happening, every time I see the look on my children's faces, I feel a nasty little bubble growing. It is a bubble filled with anger. It is a bubble filled with fear.

     I have weighed my words before speaking to the girls each time. Just my hesitation to speak makes them more nervous, but I don't feel like I have a choice.

     I cannot flippantly say, Yes, he has had two heart attacks and a failed triple bypass and that is fine. I cannot look at them and give the...la dee da message. I also do not want to make this any more of a dark cloud, a monster, a villain that it already seems like.

     Yes, it is true that everyone believes that their children are the most precious ever, but mine really are. My children are also no complaining. They are not whining about what they cannot have, or what we have not been able to do. My children have not cried out, "It's not fair."

     More than once I have envisioned this bubble with a ribbon attached. I have envisioned letting it go and watching it float away to the peaceful heavens where pain cannot survive.

     For now, I have to keep my clown shoes tucked away. I cannot be the example of raving lunatic for my kids. For now, I must continue to walk a step at a time. I must continue to hesitate before I answer questions.

     I also must remember to find gratitude in each day, in each breath and in each smile.  I must also remember to keep the balance tilted towards whatever positives we can find in each day.

     It is a bit like binoculars. I have to adjust the focus. With a good pair of binoculars, I could spot a dog relieving itself several blocks away. If I adjust my focus, I can see flowers in a garden, a cardinal eating from a bird feeder, or a butterfly fluttering among the bushes.

     I have to keep twirling the focus dial until I get it right.

    

    

    

United We Stand

    Divided we fall. It is yet another old cliche. There are plenty of them and I see why they are passed along so readily.

    Today has been difficult to watch and listen to. People making idle threats, assuming the worst from the election results.

     Perhaps a lot of people are missing the point. Perhaps they have forgotten what made this country so strong so long ago.

     No one human being controls the destiny of this country. The constitution and amendments have ensured that. No one person can repair everything. No one person can destroy everything.

     Even if an actual tights clad superhero were to take office, I would guess that he would have trouble right now. Regardless of what is going on at the capital, we seem to have a much nastier and much more pervasive problem.

     Blame.

     Blame is standing in the way of progress. Blame security, blame the White House, blame the President, blame the banks, blame the airlines.

     Who have we really become? Aren't we better than this?

     Why do we still make so many excuses for our own choices and behaviors and so readily blame others?

     Why did you get thirteen credit cards? You brag about rights and choices. You had every right to say NO.

     This is a country built on "majority rule".

     It would seem then that the majority of us may have contributed to the problem.

     I will tell you my focus. My personal focus is on purchasing goods made in the USA. I would not go so far as to say that I own nothing imported, but it begins small. I try to pay attention to where my items are made. Who am I personally helping? Am I helping a family in another country or am I helping a family right here?

     We all have choices. We even have the choice to focus on blame, or try to make our own changes. Can I afford that? If not, then perhaps I should not buy it. Perhaps that is a better choice than creative financing.

     It is not going to be easy to wean ourselves from blame and bad choices. It is not going to be easy to remember to put things into perspective instead of shouting about our "rights". 

     In the search of prosperity, our creative financing and bookkeeping have placed us right where we are today. Our country should never have been in debt, yet somehow we have been in debt throughout the history of this country, save for one short time period.

     What does that say? Isn't it time that we truly examined our own resources and their use? Isn't it time that we came together to create a debt free nation? Isn't it time that we all encourage each other to remember this daily. 

     The shiny cheap things from overseas are very tempting, but once you consider the actual cost of each of those items...it hardly seems worth it. 

     We could be providing more families here with a stable income from jobs created to manufacture more things right here. We could be taking care of our own inflation and tax issues right here. We could do so much if we were to trade responsibly.  

      It does not take an economics major to see that if your purchases outweigh your sales, you will be in debt.

      Why can't we put all of the charts, pies and graphs aside with the artificially inflated numbers and just do this the simple way? Think about your holiday purchases?

      Can you get something made in the USA instead of something imported? If the demand shifts, so will the industry. The majority needs to speak up and quit blaming.

      I hope this tiny post stays in the back of your mind. I hope it affects you. I hope that you are changed by it. The tiny voice is how it begins, even if it is the tiny voice in the back of your mind.

               

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Winter Fluff

   I really really do love this time of year. I love the crisp mornings. I love the sun shining in the afternoon. I love the guilty pleasure of hot cocoa at night when the house cools down. I love planning for the holidays. I love the recipes and goodies and the smiles.

    This is the most perfect time of year.

    This is also Oklahoma, which means that although the spring has similar temperatures and sunlight, November does not generally bring the threat of tornadoes. A wonder to be sure.

    While other states are selling tourists on their "fall colors" tours, I can see why that would just not work here. Yes, we do have trees. Yes, the leaves do change colors, but it all happens a bit more dramatically here. 

     The weather shifts quickly. There is usually no gentle lull into the chill that causes the colors to change, so it would seem that just over a weekend, all of the trees are turning.

     We often get storms here. We also have very few days that are not what most would describe as "windy".

     I walked outside yesterday and realized that all of the trees in my neighborhood had very few leaves left.

    Oh yeah... it was pretty windy the other night.

     It's pretty funny. One day I drive by and all of the trees have green leaves. That weekend I drive by and they are beautiful colors of fall, red, orange...golden...And a few days later I drive by and giggle. 

    I can't help it. Secretly, I am that immature. I always imagine that one of the trees sneezed and all of their clothes burst off of them. The trees are naked. They are there to face the winter with no fluff, bare, for all of the world to see what they are made of.

     It always makes me giggle.

     In other states, the trees seem to shed their leaves a few at a time, like a long slow dance of nature. Here, they just burst out of their clothes.

      Things really are different here. This last weekend I was in a town where everyone really did know everyone else. It was fascinating. My grandfather went into the gas station and asked if anyone had seen my 85 year old great uncle. Three people answered that they had seen him that morning.

     I gaped with astonishment. I am so invisible in my world. If someone were to ask the local gas station attendent if anyone had seen me, I doubt there would be a comprehensible answer. Here that would be an incomprehensible question.

     I laugh.

     If just those things were compared, my life would seem sort of sad. I roam invisibly through stores and gas stations. I am not anybody "special".

     And yet I am. I am aware every day of how many friends I have. I am aware of how many people care about me. My friends are like the leaves on the trees. They are colorful, beautiful and amazing.

     Unlike the leaves on the trees, I know my friends will still be with me through the winter.

      I have plenty of fluff around me to get me through the winter and I like it.

      God Bless each and every one of you.

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Free Falling

    He is having more chest pains. He is out of breath easily.

    Last night, I walked into the house and he was laying on the sofa. He was bright red and it looked like he was really working to breathe. I motioned for the kids to stay back for just a moment.

    I took his pulse. At first it was 43. I checked it again. It was 45. How could he be bright red? He is breathing so slowly and his pulse is so slow.

    A few minutes later, he was awake, a little more alert and his pulse was 62.

    I had almost called an ambulance. Maybe I should have.

    Today has been up and down.

    Someone told me that I looked tired.

     Yes, I look tired. Not only am I exhausted, but I just really don't feel like putting the concealer and spackle on today. I am "as-is". I am waking up intermittently throughout the night to check on my husband. Is he breathing? Did he take his medicine? Is he swelling?

     There are so many things that I feel like I am wrestling with? I wish I had the audacity to put them all into words. Maybe later I will.

     Unfortunately, the practicality of life supersedes what is going on. I must go to work tomorrow. I must run to the pharmacy every week. I must still make a schedule for the girls.

     I don't want to.

     I want to go to the park and walk around.

     I want to go on a vacation and be blissfully unaware.

     I want to hand tickets to him and say, "Here is that trip you wanted to go on..."

     I would venture that he is not well enough to travel. I would guess it would be too hard on him right now anyways.

     For now. I will make dinner. I will get out a game that we can play together. I will make a pitcher of homemade strawberry lemonade. I will rearrange the kitchen. I will stay busy.

     For now, I will take a deep breath, I will walk in there and smile. I will not allow this to destroy my time.

     I will not lie. I do not feel "grown up" enough to deal with this. I never do. I am a scared child praying to God every night to help remove my fear. I am asking that He bring comfort to us all.

     My darkest moments are when he says he is not worried or scared. He says he is ready. He has made peace already.

     Here is the honest truth. I have not.

     Perhaps it sounds stupid, but I flinch when I pick up my camera, like maybe taking that family picture will be like agreeing that it is okay and I am ready. I don't want everything to be so ready. I don't want to tie up loose ends anymore. I want to take it all for granted if that means I get to keep him a little longer.

     Needless to say, I am not ready for anything other than positive recovery. I guess I will just have to keep taking one step at a time. I can do no more. At this point, there is so little I can do.

     Perhaps I needed this message again. This message of free falling helplessly to see how things really are.

                  

   

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



A Dream

   I guess I am odd. I am aware of my dreams every night. Usually they are not good dreams, rather terrifying actually, but I am aware of them and I remember them when I wake up.

    I have been gored by a rhino, shot by a machine gun in WWII, drown in the English Channel, and slipped off of a cliff. All in dreams.

    Maybe this is why I wake up grateful to be alive every day. When I was a little girl, I would be so relieved that I really had not fallen out of an airplane window or sawed in half that I was excited about every new day.

     Imagine.

     Last night I had a good dream. A peaceful, surreal, sweet dream. Those are so rare for me.

     I dreamed that I had already completed the repairs and had moved into the home that is now indefinitely on hold. I dreamed the colors I had picked worked out marvelously and that my garden was also coming along nicely.

     As I walked around in my garden, I sat on a bench that I had made. I picked fruit from vines that seemed to have no direction or plan.

     It was a splendid garden, sort of English style. Not to planned, more meandering and lovely. It was peaceful.

     It was a lovely dream. It was filled with possibilities. When I woke up, I jotted some notes in my notebook and made a couple of sketches to remind me in case I ever do get the opportunity to create such loveliness.

     How wonderful would it be to experience such peaceful tranquility in real life? Perhaps I will someday have the chance to know. In the mean time, I will continue to work towards creating a bit of peace here and there.

     For now, I will be content that I still have a garden that is providing me with some food. I will be content that right now I do not have to mow anything. (Phew!) For now, I will find contentment in today, rather than being upset that it was only a dream.

   

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Encyclopedias

     Some things become collectible. Some things just do not. I have not seen any eight track tapes being auctioned for millions so I gather that those just have no value.

     Now, we are at the end of the era of printed encyclopedias. I get it. If I were to write down all of the things I have learned from the internet just in this last year, I would fill volumes. Printed encyclopedias just cannot compete with the internet.

     I already have an odd reaction to encyclopedias. I saw a set recently and opened one. I flipped through the pages and thought, "this is it?"

     Yes, I owned a set of encyclopedias as a child. I read them cover to cover when I was bored. I read voraciously. Now that I have had the internet for about twenty years, I am used to being able to open several tabs and start my research. It takes seconds to find four or five articles that will have the information that I need. It takes seconds to copy and paste the bibliography information into a document.

     It's easier, its faster, it takes up less space to use the internet.

     So what will happen to all of those encyclopedias? Do we really want to keep them around to show our children how our studies were done as a child? "Really mom, you could write a report based on ONE article in an encyclopedia and turn it in? We have to have several internet sites to cite."

     Ugh...

     No thank you. There are no encyclopedias at my house. My children still think that I am intelligent. My children still believe that I worked hard at school. My children still believe that I am a step ahead of them.

     No, for now, I believe I will continue to buy myself a little bit more time before they consider me to be an artifact.

     All right. Perhaps some will keep their encyclopedias for sentimental value. Perhaps some will keep them to see if they can be on Antiques Roadshow someday.

      I will not give my children any ammunition or evidence.

      It happens quickly enough. My kids have already asked me if there were computers when I was a child. Phew! Thankfully, although household computers were unheard of when I was a child, my father was a programmer, so we had one. I was able to smile and say, "of course we did"... thus postponing my ancient-ness for another day.

     Well, maybe it was a few days later when she told me she had heard a song by one of those old timey groups, the Beastie Boys....

     Sigh.... Move over encyclopedias... It looks like I will need a space on that bench.

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



An Update of Sorts

    It is getting more difficult to ignore that this is affecting us. Usually, I would talk to him if I need to talk things out, or get an opinion, or just figure out how to do something.

    I am getting quieter. I am not talking as much. There are just so many things that I don't want to say.

    I finally asked the other day...

    When he came home from the hospital, he was walking the seven blocks to the store two or three times each day. He would walk around our little block several times each day.

     The second week, he was able to increase this. He was able to walk to the store several times each day and take several mini walks also.

    It looked like he was making progress. It looked like he was on a path to continue to increase his exersize steadily.

     The last couple of weeks, he has been able to walk to the store one or two times each day. He has made fewer trips around our block.

     He has a history of procrastination, so I finally asked. I asked if it was because he couldn't do it, or if it was because he simply wasn't doing it.

    I am gone a lot. I work, I help to take care of my grandparents... I have things that have to be done away from this home.

    I hadn't realized that he was also sleeping more.

    His answer was the answer I had been dreading. "I get too tired. I can't do as much."

     I had already noticed that he is sweating in his sleep again, a sign that his heart is having to work too hard.

     I had already noticed that sometimes his coloring was just not right.

     I didn't want to hear that he is feeling worse.

     He is also starting to have more tingling and numbness in his hands again. He has already contacted the doctor. The chest pains are definitely worsening.

     There is only so much that can be done.

     It is the middle of the afternoon and he is sleeping again. He has always been the kind of person that could take a nap in the afternoons. Now it is more than napping. He can sleep for hours.  

     His employer sent us a letter last week saying they had only approved his leave through today. They finally sent us a letter later this week saying that he is approved through Thanksgiving. They are not making this easy.

     His doctor sent them a letter requesting he be off of work until after the New Year. She sent this letter three weeks ago.

      As I write this, I am releasing the anger I  have towards his employer. I cannot waste any time on them.

      Today I bought the usual vegetables and fruits. Today I planned our regular meals. At our house we usually do not do desserts. Those are for special occasions. Today I bought a pecan pie. He loves pecan pie. I find pecan pie to be too...everything for me, but he loves it. I bought one for him.

      I don't really know what else I can possibly do. I don't know how else to be.

      I know that I can feel a shift. We just are not joking around as much. The kids seem to be doing well. They are doing their normal activities for the most part, just more quietly. He is often asleep in the front room.

      I pray that everything is the way it is supposed to be. I pray that there is mercy and grace for all of us.   

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Survival and "Prepping"

    Many of you know that I would not consider myself a "prepper" as much as a mom who has survived a lot of odd situations.

    I do not have 5 gallon buckets of freeze dried foods in my garage or closets or basement. I do not have 25 lb bags of rice on the shelf.

    I have survived more than a few weather events that effected our electricity and our ability to travel to a store to get basic needs.

    So, I go through our "emergency" supplies twice each year.

    In one box, I have a manual can opener, matches, a dozen or so small candles that have been given to me as gifts, and a small bag of kindling. In another box I have vacuum packed a few older blankets. These are blankets that we don't really use, but would be handy in an ice storm if we lost electricity.  (We don't normally use candles at all, so I place them and their little containers in the box for an emergency.)

    In another box, I have a multipurpose tool, a couple of flashlights, a couple of packages of those little hand warmer packs, a package of baby wipes and a pack of mad libs and a pencil.

     In every emergency situation we have had, it always comes down to the very basics. If you store batteries for too long, they just don't work when you remember that they are there. We have a battery charger on the kitchen counter and a small container for batteries. I have children. They use batteries. When the batteries are "dead", the put them on the charger and grab charged ones from the box. In an emergency, that is where I will find batteries.

     When the weather alert for an ice storm is taken seriously, it is already too late to go to the grocery store. In my garage is a bag of ice melting pellets and shovels. We don't let our cupboards get too empty ever and we generally have a pretty good variety of items. What we have will have to do.

      If we lose power, we have to make sure that we have a way to cook all of the foods in our freezer. Come on over, we will likely have a buffet. We keep an extra propane tank for the grill just for this purpose.

     NOTE:  NEVER EVER bring a grill inside to warm your home. The carbon monoxide produced by combustion is too dangerous! 

       No matter the storm, we have survived. We all get a bit of cabin fever, but we survive. We haven't ever once felt the need to go rob our neighbors or shoot anyone for food.

      My point is that right now, if there is ever anything THAT bad, bad enough to turn society on itself, bad enough to last more than a couple of weeks, I am clearly not prepared to survive.

      The things survivalists talk about are beyond reason to me. I think some of them may be missing the point entirely. During every tornado or ice storm, there have been opportunities to share or to help. We have helped others by providing a meal and a place to shower. We have let others stay with us while our power was on and theirs was not. We have used our thawing foods in our freezer to feed others who had nothing.

      I think this is the main part of survival that I like to teach my children about. I will not be taking my children to target practice. I will not teach them that our food is more important that another human life. I will not teach them to fear their neighbors.

      When bad things happen, I hope that we all work together. Those that chose to barricade themselves are going to miss so much more than that meal they are so worried about. Human connections are always more important than freeze dried foods and expired medications.

      By the way, PLEASE, if you are actually considering "prepping", please do not store items beyond their expiration dates, especially medications. You will not be helping your family at all if you accidentally poison them.

     

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Where's My Mountain?

    I don't know what we had all expected today, but things definitely surprised me.

    We had planned to do a few things. One of the items on the list was to take my grandfather to the mountain where he had played as a child. 

     Sigh.

     We were within 10 miles of the mountain when we had a flat tire. This mountain is in the middle of NOWHERE.

     Fun.

     It was comical that I had not seen another car for at least half an hour and suddenly, there was a stop sign. The roads were not paved, but there was a stop sign.

     I giggled to myself wondering what rush hour might look like in this area.

     Okay, so back to the mountain.

    We approached from a direction that made it appear as if there was one mountain. It looked a bit like this.

    My grandfather is reminiscing about playing on that mountain.. He stops talking when we turned toward the mountain.

    It was supposed to look like this:

    

    He had called it Saddleback Mountain. It was supposed to look like two mountains together.

     What we saw from the new angle was this:

    "What did they do to my mountain?" He is shocked!

     I have to say, I was pretty shocked. I didn't know that sometimes mountains were disassembled.

     We continued to drive and when we reached the other side, there were piles of rock and gravel. The mountain was now in pieces no larger than a car tire.

     He had wanted to tell us his stories while hiking up the mountain. There would be no hiking as there was also a large fence encircling the entire mountain.

     His disappointment and shock were very real. As we drove away, he quietly said, "I think the last time I played on that mountain was 74 years ago. My brother and I used to visit a rattlesnake den on the side of the mountain."

     I spun my head at him. "What?"

     Why would kids want to play near rattlesnakes?
     "It was a different time. When our mother sent us out to play, we would walk or run all the way over here. She couldn't call us on our cell phones. We just came home at dark. I don't know if she even knew we went to the rattlesnake den."

      What?

      Things really are very different for my children than they were for him.

     He turned his feeling of disappointment and sadness around. He told my daughters stories about milking cows and showed them the same barn where he had been kicked by a cow.

     Bittersweet. He was inspired to tell more stories, but I believe he was also feeling like more of his life was being erased.

     I learned a lot today. My grandfather talked about his childhood as if it were just last week. His memories are vivid.

     This area has been ravaged by many storms throughout this last century and both of my grandparents still found the area very familiar. Apparently, not much has changed.

      And lastly, I saw with my own eyes that mountains really can be moved.

    
    
      



Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Time and Timeless

     Sometimes we go to thrift stores just for entertainment. Don't judge me. Thrift stores serve a very important purpose in my life.   Thrift stores are a sort of grave yard for bad ideas and impulse purchases.

      If you want to know about "fads", go to the thrift stores. There are always a lot of odd kitchen appliances, olive trays and scary bric a brac items.

     Today we picked a winner item. When it was new, I bet it was just the cute item that someone intended to display on an end table, or maybe on a coffee table. I don't know exactly what it did originally, but I am fairly sure that music was involved.

      (I need to make a note to put some batteries in my pocket before I go to the thrift store.)

       Mind you, right next to this lovely item, was a large clear plastic bag filled with broken angel parts, mostly heads..

       So here is the lovely winner for today.

     It appeared that at one point, the dog, the little girl and the old man moved.  Notice the missing lamp cover, the broken fence and the headless child feeding birds...

     There is more.  In the center of the picture, near the pole holding the music box is a shoe. It is difficult to see in the photo, but it seems that there was another child originally on this ... thing.

     There are often things at thrift stores that make me giggle, or shrug. I often mutter, "who would buy that?"

      I understand that there are uses for things that I do not see uses for. I have watched as my "big trash" pile diminished by half as people cut cords off of things, took every bit of scrap metal and other assorted oddities to "recycle".

      This item wins because it completely perplexed me. This item reminds me of all of the things we teach our children to avoid. Enticing older men, puppies as lures...and of course, the headless children.

     This was our favorite above the strange monkey carving, the bunny with a tea set hot glued to its head and many other oddities.

     The thrift store reminds me that impulse buys often end up at the thrift store. The thrift store reminds me that a spinning microwave hot dog cooker will become boring quickly. The thrift store reminds me that somewhere out there is a person willing to buy a bag of angel heads.

       After all, if it didn't sell, they wouldn't make the shelf space for it, right?

      Why do I go to thrift stores? Sometimes, there are things that simply no longer exist in regular stores. I have items that I am looking for.

      For instance, I have a fabulous friend who collect vintage Pyrex and would squeal with delight if I were able to find any pink pieces. I watch for them. I have another friend who collects vintage Coke memorabilia, just really special items. I watch for things for others.

      Really, in all honesty, I go for the smiles. I can see things that I remember as a child. Yes, the items are used up and filthy, but they remind me of things. They remind me of how much things change.

      Oh, I look around my house this evening and wonder which items will end up in a thrift store with someone giggling and shaking their head. 

      And time will continue...

     

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Photography

     I love photographs. I love taking pictures of people. I love taking pictures of things that interest me. It is a little bit like cheating.
     That one moment in time can be revisited over and over. It is captured. It is not so fleeting.
      I have fabulous photos of my kids, my pets, places I have been and even some amazing photos of fireworks but there is one thing I have never once captured properly.
     I think, "How hard can it really be?" There are photos of this everywhere! As long as there has been color photography, there have been photos of this grand perfection...
     Sunsets. Sunsets are perplexing to me. The perfect time during a sunset only lasts for a few minutes. Too late and it is too dark... Too early and there is too much sun glare...
      Oh... I am sure that I could put together a chart with sunset times and go out every night to see if I needed to adjust my time a bit. Then I could make my subject pose for 20 or so minutes so that I could capture just the right time.....
      I haven't.
      I know professional photographers probably just roll their eyes at this.
      Someday, I will slow down enough to be in the moment at the exact moment I need to be to get the perfect sunset photograph.
      Until then, I shall just enjoy the work of others. I shall also enjoy seeing a beautiful sunset outside, realizing that instead of gazing in wonder, I should run and get the camera...and miss the whole thing.
     I told you it's a little like cheating...

     

He Called My Name

    When we came home from the hospital after the first heart attack, I just could not sleep at all. I kept waking up. I wasn't really checking on him every time. I just couldn't sleep.

     One day, about a week later, I realized what my problem was. He was no longer snoring.

     My husband, who has snored incredibly loudly since the day I married him, was sleeping quietly.

      We still have no idea why, but this has continued. He sleeps quietly now. The doctors just make the "shrug" face when I tell them. 

      The very first time we stayed in a hotel together, the couple in the next suite complained to hotel staff because he snored so loudly. I assure you, this is a big deal.

      Some people get used to a fan noise, some get ambient music or rainforest sounds... I apparently got used to the sound of broken buzz saws...Once I realized that, I was able to sleep a little better.

     

       This morning, just before I woke up, I swear that as clearly as ever, I heard him calling my name.

       I became aware that I was not all the way awake, but could not make myself move.

       I know. I don't believe in hocus pocus psychic, beyond the grave stuff, but I do believe that we notice things when we are sleeping...

      I was afraid. I was afraid that my brain had recognized that he was cold, or not breathing. I was afraid.

     I finally forced myself to turn towards him.

     I opened my eyes.

    He was turned away from me. I couldn't tell if he was breathing... I couldn't see the color of his skin...

     I was afraid.

     Then I saw his chest move.....

     I then realized I had not been breathing. I had been holding my breath in the silence...waiting for some sign.

     I had been afraid.

     I believe that our brains are like any other muscle and they have to stretch and work out sometimes. Sometimes that happens when we are asleep and we call them dreams. I know that our senses are still monitoring for sounds and changes even while we are sleeping... If they were not, we would not toss the blankets off when we get hot, and we would not wake up when we "hear a noise"....

      I think my brain was a bit overloaded yesterday.

      Yesterday we got another piece of information. It wasn't really new information, but nobody had said it directly to us. Nobody had said it out loud.

      I think yesterday it was just a bit too much.

      I think my brain just needed to shake it off.  Maybe that is why I heard him call my name in such a calm way...

      I don't know, but it scared me.

      This is not like the movies. The music doesn't build right before something happens... The drums don't change rhythm. Things just happen.

      At least it was just a dream....and just a fear...and I was able to get through the day with him here....

    

     

Just in case you are feeling generous.....

...or want to support this blog...



Doggies and Dumplings

    I have a ten year old little girl who is provides both inspiration and exasperation every day.  She is full of life, ideas and fun.

    When she was a toddler, I would tell people that she has ten times more personality than any one person needs and she lives life like her hair is on fire.

    This hasn't changed.

    Today, she plopped herself right in the middle of the floor and called the dogs to her... So now, instead of being able to walk through the room, it is a swirl of child and wagging tails.

    Partially annoyed and partially smiling, I walk around the moving treacherous mess and into the kitchen.

    "Mom, can we have gnocchi tonight?"

     "I was planning on a chicken soup tonight sweetie, maybe tomorrow night when I have more time." I answered.

      "Mom, would gnocchi taste good in chicken soup?"

      Now I see she is fixated on the gnocchi. I really need to use that chicken in the fridge tonight. Hmmm... gnocchi... they are just a potato dumpling, right?

     "Maybe. I answer. We can make a small batch with gnocchi and you can be the taste tester."

       Sigh...

       Her face is completely lit up! She smiles as if she can already taste how fantastic it is.

     So tonight, we will be adding potato dumplings to our fresh chicken soup.

     Surely it won't be bad...

    

    I love her.. She is genuinely like this every day. She does not think ahead, therefore does not worry. She is delighted by possibilities as much as the actual event. She is exactly in the moment. She is perfectly content playing with the doggies in the middle of the floor and discussing dumplings.

    I thank God every day that my days are filled with doggies and dumplings and little girls.