Thursday, September 25
We survived George's surgery! I dare any mother to take her child to a hospital for any sort of surgery, and not be a mess when your kid walks through the OR doors. There was an entire room full of mothers who were trying desperately to pretend they weren't weeping. It was the worst hour and a half ever.
George didn't come out of it well, waking up and going right into one of his lyringospasams. It really freaked his PACU nurse out, and I was summoned from the waiting room. "Doctor said you are a nurse. WHAT IS THIS??!!! Has he done it before? His o2 sats are in the 50's! I might have to call a code in a minute here." is what I was greeted with.
I had to explain this was the reason behind the surgery, and we were able to bring George out of it again.
We began the morning with George standing on his hospital bed wearing his hospital gown, belting out the opening song to Lion King on top of his lungs, as he watched the sun come up, but we ended the day with a completely comatose kid. He slept for 20 hours. When he did rouse, he was completely lifeless and blank. It was terrifying, to see this kid of all kids, without his spark.
He more than made up for it the next day. He was up at 5:20 am, and on his bike by 9:30 am. A week later, and, as I walked out the door to leave for work this morning, he was chasing Kaila out the front door with a stick, and was in the process of locking her out as I backed out of the driveway. I would say he's back to his usual want to hug him/want to beat him self again.
We are now into the swing of the new school year. Week one: the kids had their shoes, socks, clothes, lunches, homework and backpacks ready to go the night before school. Dinner was either in the crock pot, or plans were made so that it would be ready no later than 5:30 every evening.We are in the middle of week 3, and the kids have their lunches semi made up, tell me they have their shoes, socks, clothes, backpacks and homework ready to go the night before school, and then scramble like crazy when they get up to get it all ready for school. Dinner has become whatever my imagination cooks up, and Joe will probably starve to death.
My house is a complete mess, with the main focus being on the semi folded ever growing pile of laundry on and around the dining room table, under which is buried mail that I have yet to dig out, missing homework, school picture forms, toys, papers, missing library books and movies, and probably the Ark of the Covenant. It's pretty bad.
Along with the start of the new school year, are the ever awesome Fund Raisers. For anyone reading this that is NOT from Franklinville, you need to understand that we are a tiny little town essentially in the middle of nowhere. The kid to consumer base for sales ratio is not exactly huge. So far this year, within the last three weeks, my kids have come home with: Flower sales, Nuts and Candy sales, Candy bar sales, school pictures, and swim sign ups. I may have to move, as the pretty soon the neighbors will begin avoiding my kids, and take out a loan to finance the the fund raisers and other assorted fees associated with school. 3 weeks. We haven't even begun to unleash the hustling abilities demanded of our children yet. I apologize in advance, dear neighbors. As it is, we have to take the pickup truck to the school tonight to pick up and then deliver, 21 pots of Chrysanthemums. Thank you to those that purchased these mums. They are going toward sending my kid to Washington DC again.
Monday, September 30
I seriously have very little time lately. Sorry for the break in Blog here!
At least one of my kids appreciates education. Joe has a life career mapped out that includes going to college for Geology, so that he may successfully own and run a diamond mine, to fund his large very private Alaskan property and his large pack of huskies. Thus far, his grades and extremely intelligent one liners and casual every day remarks indicate this is a very real possibility. Or, he will be a successful salesman. It could go anywhere at this point.
George on the other hand, wants nothing to do with school. He hates it. Every part of it. Since his surgery, he cries every night before bed that he has to go to school, wakes up every morning crying that he has to go to school, refuses to get into poor Mrs. Brown's car (The wonderful friend who drives my kids to school every morning, God bless her.) and then clings to whichever sister marches him into school, refusing to let go until he is physically pried off, howling the entire time, by whichever adult happens to have the morning honors.
Kaila does well, and is immersed in Middle School drama and adventures. By week 2 of school, there was already a complaint made to the school regarding another girl harassing her. I suspect it's going to be a long year.
Lexi is Lexi. I don't think she is taken too seriously at school. She wears bright, fun, happy colors, lots of glitter, and lives in a dream world I desperately wish I could spend just one day visiting. She has this fun cheery crazy personality like no other, and is seriously one of the smartest kids I know. I think her grades tend to surprise her teachers, because she puts almost no visible effort into school or homework, and is bored to death by most of it. She has said since she was 5, that she will be very rich and have a butler someday. I think it could be a possibility. She recently started on the school swim team, as she is at her absolute happiest when in the water. I think she'll have a good year this year!
The Earth Mother has been busy. I had the BRILLIANT idea that we should take the kids apple picking Saturday morning. I justified this with the whole "Family Bonding, Memories, Time with the kids, Fun Adventures", mind set, but mostly I didn't feel like doing any housework.
Off we went, on an hour's drive to pick apples. We decided on "only " 2 bushels, and then started out to the apple orchard, buckets in hand. There were lots of varieties, and we broke up to get all different kinds. The apple trees were full and plentiful, and, the entire thing took 10 minutes. 10 minutes. Seriously. It took longer to walk from the truck to the apple building. So. We decided to pick grapes, too. Grapes are good. My kids like grapes. This will be so nice!
It took about 5 minutes to fill an extremely large basket full of grapes. Too many grapes, really, because they were all sour concord grapes. My kids do not like sour grapes. What the heck was I going to do with a million sour grapes? And, after all this preparation and driving, we were finished in less than half an hour.
Once back home, I began peeling apples. I decided to make apple sauce to start with. That should use up lots of these apples. We had 4 bags and half a laundry basket full of them. Suddenly 2 bushels seemed like an endless amount of apples.
After peeling, cutting and coring the endless amount of apples, I filled 2 pots with them and cinnamon. It had just taken most of the afternoon, and I still needed to cook them down into sauce and then can them. 12 Quarts of apple sauce, and most of the afternoon/evening later, I realized I had hardly made a dent in the apples. WTH?
The next morning, we hauled the kids to church, because we need to be at least semi responsible adults, and because we have a class of two 12 year old girls that we have to teach religious ed to. And, once a month, we have to teach essentially Catholic Sex Ed. In all honesty, I would tell my own kids in a heartbeat, that they came from the stork if I could get away with it. Neither I nor the two 12 year old girls are enthusiastic about Sex Ed day. And this Sunday, only one girl showed up. It was me, her, and Bearded Man, who didn't want to listen to this anymore than I wanted to teach it.
We hastily read through the chapter, and she happened to look up at an open book on the table, that a past Religious Ed student had written her name in. "Oh! I know her! She's 15 and pregnant!"
I closed my book. I looked at her. I said: "Listen to me. I can sum up this entire book in a few sentences. DON'T have sex till you're married. Seriously. You are not going to find your soul mate any time in the next 6 years. Wait till you're older. Pregnancy. STD's. More responsibility that you can deal with. You don't need to do this. The church says not to do this. You have a whole world in front of you. Don't do it. And all those things the church says you shouldn't do? If you run across someone who DOES do those things, it is your obligation as a decent human being to treat them with kindness and respect. The Good Lord is going to judge everyone eventually. It's His job, not yours. You WILL be judged on how you treated your fellow human beings. Lesson Completed. Let's color stuff." Lesson One done. It's a long way till May. I should probably be fired.
After church, the canning began again. I decided to start with apple preserves. Hours of labor later, and it didn't look like I had used any apples. I swear the little suckers were multiplying in front of me. They were everywhere. I needed a break, so, I started on the grapes, and decided to make grape jam.
Have you ever made grape jam? My little sister wandered through the front door about halfway through the process. To make grape jam, you have to separate the pulp from the skin. It looks EXACTLY like a booger, slime and all, as it drips out of the skin. In looking into the bowl full of pulp, it looked exactly like the fish eggs in Finding Nemo, right before the bad fish ate them all.
My sister looked at me and said "Ri. Why are you doing this. this is ridiculous. Look at this house. This mess. Your kitchen. Look at this! Are you CRAZY? LOOK at all these apples! And grapes!!! TWENTY FOUR CUPS OF SUGAR???? ARE YOU CRAZY??? THIS IS HEALTHY HOW??????"
"There's no preservatives, Brianna! It's nourishing and fresh and has no chemicals and is GOOD for my FAMILY!!!! If there is an emergency, we will survive on peach and apple and grape jelly, Brianna!!! What will YOU be eating, huh?"
"Your kids HATE it ALL, Moriah! They are all going to starve to death anyway!"
"You want some when I'm done?"
"Yeah! The stuffs awesome. Can I have some of your apple pie filling too, if you make it?"
"Yeah."
A whole weekend of canning later, and, I still have two bushels of apples, and half those grapes still. Joe approves of the grape jam though, so there's that.
Bearded Man tells me frequently that his mother canned every summer and fall. She canned everything but her kids, evidently. His Mother was also a stay at home mom. Bearded Man was thoughtful enough to call her and get some of her canning recipes for me, too. She's in the hospital now, so, he can't call her for more recipes right now, so it's just me and the Bell Blue Book of Canning. So far so good!
Anyhow, that's the craziness that is our household right now. Hopefully I can update this a little sooner next time!
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Friday, September 5, 2014
Growing (Kids!) Pains
What a week.
I discovered this week that, while I am of the firm and sound opinion that surgery is fairly safe these days, and have some experience as a surgical floor nurse, it is absolutely not okay for my own kids.
Not even the routine stuff.
At all.
Tuesday, The George and I made our way to the Pediatric ENT doctor, affiliated with Children's Hospital in Buffalo. I knew what was coming. I knew that George's adenoids were likely coming out.
The doctor came into the room, requested that George remove himself from the Doctor's stool ("I had to try it out, because I am going to be a doctor." George informed the Doctor. ) and announced that, after looking at George's xrays, that his adenoids were grossly enlarged, the cause of his breathing issues, causing lyringospasms, and needed to come out asap.
I nodded, and agreed, and set up an appointment to have them out on September 17th, and managed to let all the people I have to let know when I need time off, that, I was going to need more time off. Again. (Thank goodness they all like George. I am known as "George's Mom" in Buffalo anymore.)
After the appointment, George announced he was starving and thirsty and that the only thing that would make him better was Timbits from Tim Horton's, and an orange juice. I figured he earned it, so, we went in search. At the drive - thru, his window came down, and the following took place:
George: "Hello? Hi! Can you hear me?"
Drive Thru Voice: "Umm, hello?"
Me: "GEORGE! Shush! Let me order, okay?"
George: "My name's George!"
Drive Thru Voice: "Ummm. Hi, George?"
George: "I love you!"
Drive Thru Voice: "AWWWWWW!!!!!!!! Extra Timbits for George!!"
On the way home, I decided to go visit my Dad. He hasn't been too well, and there really isn't too much more that can be done for him. He is in and out of the hospital a lot these days.
My Dad's skin color is gray, he has circles under his eyes, and he really is unable to walk much, due to cardiac problems. He looked at me and said
"Ri. I'm on my way out. My heart just can't take much more, and there isn't much they can do for me now. Don't know when it will happen, but, I'm ready to go. This is no quality of life."
What do you say to that?
This week also brought the first day of school. Including the First Day for my Last Kid. Where did all the time go?
George announced that he probably shouldn't go. His brother and sisters had told him he wouldn't be allowed to go to the gym. "I'm not a baby, and I'm not stupid! Why are they treating me like I am? I should be allowed to go to the gym. This is NOT going to be any fun."
The morning of the first day dawned, and George really wanted no part of this. "I shouldn't go. The people are going to want me to listen to them, and I don't like to listen to people."
I assured him it would be fine. His first day didn't start until 10 am, but we drove the rest of the kids to school and walked them in. I was FINE. FINE! All morning, we were fine. I marched them into school like I always do, and we were walking down a hallway, and the kids were calling to long lost friends, and Lexi was completely fuming over the news that Joe's room was directly across from her classroom, and this was NOT acceptable, and suddenly I was getting all weepy. Out of nowhere. Didn't see that coming at all.
George and I had a few errands to run before Pre-K started, and, on the way to the school, the horrible thought occurred to me that: This was it. The very last time I would have George or any kid alone to myself, while the big kids were at school. This was the last ride I would take with my baby and that my baby was still all mine. Once I hit the school, I would have a Big Kid, and have to share him, and there would no longer be any kids at home during the day, or little ones running around the house. Bring on the waterworks. Not gonna lie. I drove around the biggest block I could find, to extend that ride a little. It took the first hour of Pre-K for me to stop getting all teary. He didn't know, of course. On the way in, his hand found mine, and I heard "Mama? Will you carry me in?"
"No buddy. You can do it, and you are going to be just fine. You can hold my hand though."
Because, sometimes, you just have to let them stand on their own two feet.
This morning, after hauling him out of bed against his will, and spending 15 minutes snuggling with him to wake him up, it was "Mama? I don't think I should go to Pre-K. I am not old enough. It is for 5 year olds, and I'm only 4. I will go next year. Make Daddy go to work at night again and stay home with me. Or you can stay home, and work at night, and snuggle me. That will be good. Pleeeeaaaassseee Mama?" Lord.
I am completely aware that he will be fine. He will survive just like the rest of the kids did. I am also aware that I will, as well. But, I feel like this was a pretty big life change, with the realization that there really are no little ones at home anymore. I think too, that worrying about George's breathing problems and surgery and my Dad really added to the whole Moriah Mess.
I'm ready to be done with this week. I have been too busy and weighed down with all the heavy stuff to go to Zumba, go walking, or even care what I ate.
Life goes on, however! And, in all honesty, Religious Ed starts this Sunday, (you know, in 2 days?) and, I am not nearly as prepared as I wanted to be. It was decided that the 8th graders should have Religious Education at one of our Sister Churches, so, my class now consists of 2 kids. Neither belonging to me. Now that my kid is no longer in my class, this has created something of a logistical nightmare. I now have 2 children in Religious Ed, and 2 not in Religious Ed, that will need to be delt with in some manner for an hour and a half for 24 Sundays, almost 20 miles from home. This does NOT include getting home in order to turn around two hours later to drive BACK to our church to get Kaila off to the other church, and then come home again, to to pick her up again in a few more hours. Religious Education has just effectively caused at least 100 miles of driving every Sunday. The first of my children to announce they have decided to become another religion, or, atheist, will probably be beaten soundly.
That is life in our household this week. I did meet a new neighbor! She came over to introduce herself, after we discovered that her daughter is Kaila's age, and in the same classes as her, and they just moved down the street from us! (The excitement here is HUGE. Kaila really has very few friends, and pickings are pretty slim in our town. She was recently heartbroken when her BFF from out of state would have nothing to do with her on her summer trip to NY. When they DID get together, my poor daughter was regaled with stories of another local girl who hates Kaila, and is the daughter of this child's Uncle's girlfriend. Every rotten thing this other kid had said was repeated for the entire day, and in great, excruciating detail, before Kaila was informed by her ex bff that they all felt it was better to keep the peace with a possible new cousin, rather than an old friend, thus, she probably wasn't going to be spoken to much anymore, if ever again, soooo, sorry?) The relief that Kaila has found a new friend was huge. My poor kid really needed someone. The new friend's mother wandered around the house, and announced that she used to be a Home Stager, and that she really liked how I had it decorated. (Score one for a for-once clean house!!!!!) She hesitated and finally said "Do you mind a few pointers about your kitchen...?" And I decided I probably liked her.
And that is what's going on in the household this week. There was also an ER trip for Bearded Man, who will live, but, still, this was definatly the week for craziness. Back to working out tomorrow. I don't have it in me to be miserable for very long. Have a great weekend!
I discovered this week that, while I am of the firm and sound opinion that surgery is fairly safe these days, and have some experience as a surgical floor nurse, it is absolutely not okay for my own kids.
Not even the routine stuff.
At all.
Tuesday, The George and I made our way to the Pediatric ENT doctor, affiliated with Children's Hospital in Buffalo. I knew what was coming. I knew that George's adenoids were likely coming out.
The doctor came into the room, requested that George remove himself from the Doctor's stool ("I had to try it out, because I am going to be a doctor." George informed the Doctor. ) and announced that, after looking at George's xrays, that his adenoids were grossly enlarged, the cause of his breathing issues, causing lyringospasms, and needed to come out asap.
I nodded, and agreed, and set up an appointment to have them out on September 17th, and managed to let all the people I have to let know when I need time off, that, I was going to need more time off. Again. (Thank goodness they all like George. I am known as "George's Mom" in Buffalo anymore.)
After the appointment, George announced he was starving and thirsty and that the only thing that would make him better was Timbits from Tim Horton's, and an orange juice. I figured he earned it, so, we went in search. At the drive - thru, his window came down, and the following took place:
George: "Hello? Hi! Can you hear me?"
Drive Thru Voice: "Umm, hello?"
Me: "GEORGE! Shush! Let me order, okay?"
George: "My name's George!"
Drive Thru Voice: "Ummm. Hi, George?"
George: "I love you!"
Drive Thru Voice: "AWWWWWW!!!!!!!! Extra Timbits for George!!"
On the way home, I decided to go visit my Dad. He hasn't been too well, and there really isn't too much more that can be done for him. He is in and out of the hospital a lot these days.
My Dad's skin color is gray, he has circles under his eyes, and he really is unable to walk much, due to cardiac problems. He looked at me and said
"Ri. I'm on my way out. My heart just can't take much more, and there isn't much they can do for me now. Don't know when it will happen, but, I'm ready to go. This is no quality of life."
What do you say to that?
This week also brought the first day of school. Including the First Day for my Last Kid. Where did all the time go?
George announced that he probably shouldn't go. His brother and sisters had told him he wouldn't be allowed to go to the gym. "I'm not a baby, and I'm not stupid! Why are they treating me like I am? I should be allowed to go to the gym. This is NOT going to be any fun."
The morning of the first day dawned, and George really wanted no part of this. "I shouldn't go. The people are going to want me to listen to them, and I don't like to listen to people."
I assured him it would be fine. His first day didn't start until 10 am, but we drove the rest of the kids to school and walked them in. I was FINE. FINE! All morning, we were fine. I marched them into school like I always do, and we were walking down a hallway, and the kids were calling to long lost friends, and Lexi was completely fuming over the news that Joe's room was directly across from her classroom, and this was NOT acceptable, and suddenly I was getting all weepy. Out of nowhere. Didn't see that coming at all.
George and I had a few errands to run before Pre-K started, and, on the way to the school, the horrible thought occurred to me that: This was it. The very last time I would have George or any kid alone to myself, while the big kids were at school. This was the last ride I would take with my baby and that my baby was still all mine. Once I hit the school, I would have a Big Kid, and have to share him, and there would no longer be any kids at home during the day, or little ones running around the house. Bring on the waterworks. Not gonna lie. I drove around the biggest block I could find, to extend that ride a little. It took the first hour of Pre-K for me to stop getting all teary. He didn't know, of course. On the way in, his hand found mine, and I heard "Mama? Will you carry me in?"
"No buddy. You can do it, and you are going to be just fine. You can hold my hand though."
Because, sometimes, you just have to let them stand on their own two feet.
This morning, after hauling him out of bed against his will, and spending 15 minutes snuggling with him to wake him up, it was "Mama? I don't think I should go to Pre-K. I am not old enough. It is for 5 year olds, and I'm only 4. I will go next year. Make Daddy go to work at night again and stay home with me. Or you can stay home, and work at night, and snuggle me. That will be good. Pleeeeaaaassseee Mama?" Lord.
I am completely aware that he will be fine. He will survive just like the rest of the kids did. I am also aware that I will, as well. But, I feel like this was a pretty big life change, with the realization that there really are no little ones at home anymore. I think too, that worrying about George's breathing problems and surgery and my Dad really added to the whole Moriah Mess.
I'm ready to be done with this week. I have been too busy and weighed down with all the heavy stuff to go to Zumba, go walking, or even care what I ate.
Life goes on, however! And, in all honesty, Religious Ed starts this Sunday, (you know, in 2 days?) and, I am not nearly as prepared as I wanted to be. It was decided that the 8th graders should have Religious Education at one of our Sister Churches, so, my class now consists of 2 kids. Neither belonging to me. Now that my kid is no longer in my class, this has created something of a logistical nightmare. I now have 2 children in Religious Ed, and 2 not in Religious Ed, that will need to be delt with in some manner for an hour and a half for 24 Sundays, almost 20 miles from home. This does NOT include getting home in order to turn around two hours later to drive BACK to our church to get Kaila off to the other church, and then come home again, to to pick her up again in a few more hours. Religious Education has just effectively caused at least 100 miles of driving every Sunday. The first of my children to announce they have decided to become another religion, or, atheist, will probably be beaten soundly.
That is life in our household this week. I did meet a new neighbor! She came over to introduce herself, after we discovered that her daughter is Kaila's age, and in the same classes as her, and they just moved down the street from us! (The excitement here is HUGE. Kaila really has very few friends, and pickings are pretty slim in our town. She was recently heartbroken when her BFF from out of state would have nothing to do with her on her summer trip to NY. When they DID get together, my poor daughter was regaled with stories of another local girl who hates Kaila, and is the daughter of this child's Uncle's girlfriend. Every rotten thing this other kid had said was repeated for the entire day, and in great, excruciating detail, before Kaila was informed by her ex bff that they all felt it was better to keep the peace with a possible new cousin, rather than an old friend, thus, she probably wasn't going to be spoken to much anymore, if ever again, soooo, sorry?) The relief that Kaila has found a new friend was huge. My poor kid really needed someone. The new friend's mother wandered around the house, and announced that she used to be a Home Stager, and that she really liked how I had it decorated. (Score one for a for-once clean house!!!!!) She hesitated and finally said "Do you mind a few pointers about your kitchen...?" And I decided I probably liked her.
And that is what's going on in the household this week. There was also an ER trip for Bearded Man, who will live, but, still, this was definatly the week for craziness. Back to working out tomorrow. I don't have it in me to be miserable for very long. Have a great weekend!
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Bearded Man has no Tolerance for the Earth Mother
So much but not much has happened since the Peach Preserves debacle. I still haven't gotten out to pick nor preserve anything further at this time. I did, however, make my own homemade powdered laundry soap. I actually loved it, and the recipe made enough to last for at least 47 years, and my whites seemed white again.
But then, I arrived home from Zumba the other night, to see Bearded Man storming around his shed. His eyes locked on me, and I was informed through gritted teeth exactly what he thought of my latest concoction. Evidently it had not dissolved, and the hoses in the washer were clogged. And the laundry room was flooded. And the full sized dryer is stacked on the full sized washer, and the washer needed to be dismantled, in order to clear the hoses.
Another homemade failure. Ah well. So nice I have a (disgruntled miserable) repair man kicking around the house, and didn't have to pay for a service to come and fix it. So, there is that.
Since the last post, I was in my first ever race! A 5k. It was suggested by my lunchtime walking partner, Kim, that I join with some people from work. Some of my Zumba friends were going to be there, too. No one I knew planned to actually run; it was going to be a fun time and everyone was going to walk the race.
Kim and I ran at least half of that race! You have no idea how absolutely proud of myself I am. For me, this was HUGE! And; I didn't die! It was, honestly, one of the most fun times I have had in a long time.
After the race, I was completely covered with color, and my face was almost black, I called my Dad, who was only a few miles away, in the hospital again. I told him I was in the area, but covered with all this color. He informed me I needed to get right over, because he wanted to see. I marched through the VA completely covered, and in the sincere hope I didn't run into anyone I knew, as I wasn't entirely sure I wouldn't get into trouble for being an employee and being in the hospital in such condition.
I only saw one doctor who knew me, but, he hesitated, because I don't think he was completely sure it was me. In the end, it made my Dad happy, so it was worth it.
I am happy to report, that the house is pretty much painted! Except for a few touch ups and one cover up, it's done, and my twinkle lights went back up around the front door the other day. The front door has been a bone of contention... I decided it needs to be yellow. The house is a deep blue/teal color, and the door would be perfect as an autumn yellow.
It became a thing. We would separately ask various neighbors what they thought of a yellow door. It would go something along the lines of:
Me: What do you think of the house?? I think it would be just about perfect, if I painted the door a nice autumn yellow. Wouldn't that look beautiful? I mean, just LOOK at the Black Eyed Susans in the front garden - they look just wonderful with that color, don't you think?"
Whichever neighbor standing there staring at my house: Oh yes! Yellow. Very nice! You are right! Perfect!
Bearded Man: House is pretty much done. She wants a yellow door. It's gonna look bad. I said 'no' I mean, A YELLOW DOOR??? What the hell?
Neighbor nodding with a shudder: I agree. No yellow. What is she thinking? Ruin everything.
It's all in the presentation, evidently.
It was decided that, if I want a yellow door, I need to go buy the paint and paint it myself. So, that's the plan. I think it will look perfect. And so will my half of the neighbors. I would like to point out here, that, one of the neighbors on Bearded Man's side spent approximately 5 years painting his truck, motorcycle, 4 wheeler, RC cars and everything he could get his hands on, blue and yellow. I think he just agreed with Jasin because Jasin lets him borrow tools sometimes.
School starts next week for all 4 of my kids. For the first time in over 13 years, the house will be kid free for the day. And, for the first time in as many years, I work a Monday through Friday day job, and am unable to take advantage of that.
It always makes me sad to see the kids off to school. It heralds back the crazy mornings, the frantic searches for shoes/socks/homework/clothes/book bags/lunch boxes, the nagging to get them dressed/fed/put together/hurry up/make your lunch, the papers/homework/fund raisers/misplaced important stuff. This year we get to listen to trumpet and flute practice, as Lexi gets to start band. There is the nightly nagging to do homework/find pencils/crayons/"OMG, YOU HAVE A PROJECT DUE TOMORROW, AND YOU ARE TELLING ME AT BEDTIME????!!!!!!!!!"
There is band and chorus concerts/school play/and practice/Cub Scouts/Swim Team/School functions/meet the teacher/parent teacher conferences/remember to send in snacks for weekly and holiday consumption/fundraisers for assorted reasons. And at least half a forest full of papers that are dragged home every year.
Also this year, for the first time ever, the Pre-K kids will be spending a full day at school, instead of the traditional half day. After which, my kids have to walk half a mile back home through heat/cold/rain/snow/slush/mud/sleet/wind. And it just makes me sad to think about it. The other 3 were usually driven back and forth in bad weather, after a few hours at school, which completely exhausted them. Poor George.
We have a plan in place, to try and make sure everything is organized before bed, to help with the morning craziness. I give it 2 weeks, before I am frantically running around the house looking for shoes that we will find in the back yard in the pouring rain, as I run late for work, because I was too tired the night before, to have the kids get all their things together for school before bedtime.
Only 14 more years of this to go! And, can you believe it? Kaila graduates in only 5 years!
All this adds to the need to work off the stress through working out. Yesterday, I skipped Zumba, because I hurt my leg. I decided to snuggle into my chair with a book and just chill. The guy with the pickup truck with a chest freezer in the back full of meat stopped by again. Usually I tell him "No" and that's the end of it. This time, Bearded Man was home, so I told him he could deal with it. The pickup truck meat guy does not like to take "No" for an answer, and I feel like his whole family is going to starve to death and he will end up on the streets if I don't buy meat off of his pickup truck. 10 minutes later, Joe comes running in excitedly. "MOM! Dad needs you outside RIGHT NOW! The guy has all this meat spread out on his tailgate for ONLY THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE DOLLARS! AND he is giving us FREE sausage and hash browns!!! GOURMET hash browns!!! Dad needs you outside QUICK!"
Insert inappropriate language here.
I went out, listened to the spiel, and nicely told him "No." I was in the middle of a book in which an entire family had just been murdered by a disgruntled person, and, the look that man gave me at that point made me think of the guy that had just murdered the family in my book (with a knife, in case you were wondering. The mom lived, as did one of the sons, and it was depressing and awful, and I wish I hadn't read it.) Anyhow, I told the guy we weren't going to buy any meat today, but thanks anyway.
At which point he began to try to hire Bearded Man to sell meat out of his pickup truck, too. He announced that HUNDREDS of dollars could be made EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!! I rolled my eyes and went back in the house.
"MOM!!! MOM! Dad said the guy has a SPECIAL DEAL FOR US!!!! 12 FROZEN ITALIAN CHICKEN BREAST AND 5 POUNDS OF SAUSAGE FOR ONLY FORTY DOLLARS!!" Yells Joe, coming through the door.
'Tell you father if he wants meat from the tailgate of some strange guy's truck, he can buy it himself." I mumbled grouchily (HELLO? READING here! Do not bug me when I am reading!!!These people had JUST GOTTEN MURDERED!!!)
At which point Joe went back outside and repeated what I had just said verbatim to the strange guy selling meat off his tailgate.
At which point Jasin came in and repeated the deal Joe had just been in for.
At which point I snapped that I could buy chicken breast fresh at the store, and a three dollar bottle of Italian dressing, and do the same damn thing for twelve dollars, and it would be more chicken, but if you want to buy it, then go right ahead, I am NOT coming back outside to rescue you and be the bad guy again.
At which point He went back outside and probably told the guy his wife was mean, and the guy probably nodded in sympathy, packed up his tailgate, and went elsewhere to make hundreds of dollars.
This is why we don't skip Zumba ever ever again.
Poor Bearded Man. I am pretty sure he misses second shift. I think I make him crazy.
Till next time!
But then, I arrived home from Zumba the other night, to see Bearded Man storming around his shed. His eyes locked on me, and I was informed through gritted teeth exactly what he thought of my latest concoction. Evidently it had not dissolved, and the hoses in the washer were clogged. And the laundry room was flooded. And the full sized dryer is stacked on the full sized washer, and the washer needed to be dismantled, in order to clear the hoses.
Another homemade failure. Ah well. So nice I have a (disgruntled miserable) repair man kicking around the house, and didn't have to pay for a service to come and fix it. So, there is that.
Since the last post, I was in my first ever race! A 5k. It was suggested by my lunchtime walking partner, Kim, that I join with some people from work. Some of my Zumba friends were going to be there, too. No one I knew planned to actually run; it was going to be a fun time and everyone was going to walk the race.
Kim and I ran at least half of that race! You have no idea how absolutely proud of myself I am. For me, this was HUGE! And; I didn't die! It was, honestly, one of the most fun times I have had in a long time.
After the race, I was completely covered with color, and my face was almost black, I called my Dad, who was only a few miles away, in the hospital again. I told him I was in the area, but covered with all this color. He informed me I needed to get right over, because he wanted to see. I marched through the VA completely covered, and in the sincere hope I didn't run into anyone I knew, as I wasn't entirely sure I wouldn't get into trouble for being an employee and being in the hospital in such condition.
I only saw one doctor who knew me, but, he hesitated, because I don't think he was completely sure it was me. In the end, it made my Dad happy, so it was worth it.
I am happy to report, that the house is pretty much painted! Except for a few touch ups and one cover up, it's done, and my twinkle lights went back up around the front door the other day. The front door has been a bone of contention... I decided it needs to be yellow. The house is a deep blue/teal color, and the door would be perfect as an autumn yellow.
It became a thing. We would separately ask various neighbors what they thought of a yellow door. It would go something along the lines of:
Me: What do you think of the house?? I think it would be just about perfect, if I painted the door a nice autumn yellow. Wouldn't that look beautiful? I mean, just LOOK at the Black Eyed Susans in the front garden - they look just wonderful with that color, don't you think?"
Whichever neighbor standing there staring at my house: Oh yes! Yellow. Very nice! You are right! Perfect!
Bearded Man: House is pretty much done. She wants a yellow door. It's gonna look bad. I said 'no' I mean, A YELLOW DOOR??? What the hell?
Neighbor nodding with a shudder: I agree. No yellow. What is she thinking? Ruin everything.
It's all in the presentation, evidently.
It was decided that, if I want a yellow door, I need to go buy the paint and paint it myself. So, that's the plan. I think it will look perfect. And so will my half of the neighbors. I would like to point out here, that, one of the neighbors on Bearded Man's side spent approximately 5 years painting his truck, motorcycle, 4 wheeler, RC cars and everything he could get his hands on, blue and yellow. I think he just agreed with Jasin because Jasin lets him borrow tools sometimes.
School starts next week for all 4 of my kids. For the first time in over 13 years, the house will be kid free for the day. And, for the first time in as many years, I work a Monday through Friday day job, and am unable to take advantage of that.
It always makes me sad to see the kids off to school. It heralds back the crazy mornings, the frantic searches for shoes/socks/homework/clothes/book bags/lunch boxes, the nagging to get them dressed/fed/put together/hurry up/make your lunch, the papers/homework/fund raisers/misplaced important stuff. This year we get to listen to trumpet and flute practice, as Lexi gets to start band. There is the nightly nagging to do homework/find pencils/crayons/"OMG, YOU HAVE A PROJECT DUE TOMORROW, AND YOU ARE TELLING ME AT BEDTIME????!!!!!!!!!"
There is band and chorus concerts/school play/and practice/Cub Scouts/Swim Team/School functions/meet the teacher/parent teacher conferences/remember to send in snacks for weekly and holiday consumption/fundraisers for assorted reasons. And at least half a forest full of papers that are dragged home every year.
Also this year, for the first time ever, the Pre-K kids will be spending a full day at school, instead of the traditional half day. After which, my kids have to walk half a mile back home through heat/cold/rain/snow/slush/mud/sleet/wind. And it just makes me sad to think about it. The other 3 were usually driven back and forth in bad weather, after a few hours at school, which completely exhausted them. Poor George.
We have a plan in place, to try and make sure everything is organized before bed, to help with the morning craziness. I give it 2 weeks, before I am frantically running around the house looking for shoes that we will find in the back yard in the pouring rain, as I run late for work, because I was too tired the night before, to have the kids get all their things together for school before bedtime.
Only 14 more years of this to go! And, can you believe it? Kaila graduates in only 5 years!
All this adds to the need to work off the stress through working out. Yesterday, I skipped Zumba, because I hurt my leg. I decided to snuggle into my chair with a book and just chill. The guy with the pickup truck with a chest freezer in the back full of meat stopped by again. Usually I tell him "No" and that's the end of it. This time, Bearded Man was home, so I told him he could deal with it. The pickup truck meat guy does not like to take "No" for an answer, and I feel like his whole family is going to starve to death and he will end up on the streets if I don't buy meat off of his pickup truck. 10 minutes later, Joe comes running in excitedly. "MOM! Dad needs you outside RIGHT NOW! The guy has all this meat spread out on his tailgate for ONLY THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE DOLLARS! AND he is giving us FREE sausage and hash browns!!! GOURMET hash browns!!! Dad needs you outside QUICK!"
Insert inappropriate language here.
I went out, listened to the spiel, and nicely told him "No." I was in the middle of a book in which an entire family had just been murdered by a disgruntled person, and, the look that man gave me at that point made me think of the guy that had just murdered the family in my book (with a knife, in case you were wondering. The mom lived, as did one of the sons, and it was depressing and awful, and I wish I hadn't read it.) Anyhow, I told the guy we weren't going to buy any meat today, but thanks anyway.
At which point he began to try to hire Bearded Man to sell meat out of his pickup truck, too. He announced that HUNDREDS of dollars could be made EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!! I rolled my eyes and went back in the house.
"MOM!!! MOM! Dad said the guy has a SPECIAL DEAL FOR US!!!! 12 FROZEN ITALIAN CHICKEN BREAST AND 5 POUNDS OF SAUSAGE FOR ONLY FORTY DOLLARS!!" Yells Joe, coming through the door.
'Tell you father if he wants meat from the tailgate of some strange guy's truck, he can buy it himself." I mumbled grouchily (HELLO? READING here! Do not bug me when I am reading!!!These people had JUST GOTTEN MURDERED!!!)
At which point Joe went back outside and repeated what I had just said verbatim to the strange guy selling meat off his tailgate.
At which point Jasin came in and repeated the deal Joe had just been in for.
At which point I snapped that I could buy chicken breast fresh at the store, and a three dollar bottle of Italian dressing, and do the same damn thing for twelve dollars, and it would be more chicken, but if you want to buy it, then go right ahead, I am NOT coming back outside to rescue you and be the bad guy again.
At which point He went back outside and probably told the guy his wife was mean, and the guy probably nodded in sympathy, packed up his tailgate, and went elsewhere to make hundreds of dollars.
This is why we don't skip Zumba ever ever again.
Poor Bearded Man. I am pretty sure he misses second shift. I think I make him crazy.
Till next time!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Why I Failed as an Earth Mother: A Pictoral.
Bearded Man.
In this persuit, we went out and bought peaches. Bearded Man was so excited, that he went and purchased a canner and several canning jars. We were going to can EVERYTHING.
Bearded Man's dream pantry.
Funny thing about peaches. Their shelf life is very short. This (not Amish) working woman who is responsible for these peaches did not have a lot of time to can them. The peaches brought along their special friends, the fruit flies. Who brought every single friend and family they could find, and then had a big party, inviting every fruit fly in the neighborhood. I hate my kitchen, but the fruit flies LOVED it.
On the only evening after work that I had available, I had to deal with all 7000 peaches (give or take a few.) I don't think I like peaches anymore. I don't like to peel them, chop them, pry the stupid pit out, deal with peach juice running all over the place, nor their friends, the fruit flies.
After cussing through an entire box of peaches, while Bearded Man napped on the couch, it was time to throw them into the pot. In glancing at the directions, I was horrified at the vast amount of sugar the "Bell Blue Blook of Canning" called for. 21 cups, to be exact. Whatever. I dumped it in. And it didn't fit. So, I stomped through the kitchen and dug out a bigger pot.
It did not fit either. I decided I hate canning, and that it is not appropriate for working Moms who have all these kids and things that need to be done, and then began thinking about all the things that needed to be done, and became even madder at the peaches. Out came the next biggest pot, which fit 12 cups of peaches and 21 cups of sugar and 10 tbs of pectin, or something like that.
As it all simmered and did it's thing, I could only wonder how this was keeping my family healthy etc. Because, at this point, all this homemade goodness, fruit of my labor, nourishing yada yada yada peach slop was pretty much just:
And I still have to drag the kids out and pick 4 million pounds of blueberries. To make blueberry candy preserves.
As I ladled the sugar with peaches into the jars, and attempted to put the lids on without burning myself on the jars, one of them slipped. Right off the table, and proceded to coat my kitchen, myself, my scrubs and my apron in boiling sugar. Which is the equivelent of:
At this point, I realized I could not get to my sink to clean the miserable peach sticky mess up, because it was full of dishes to wash the peaches, peel the peaches, chop the peaches, several different sticky pots that weren't big enough to hold the peaches.
Below, find a "Selfie" of my reaction.
This is all I wanted. Like, ever ever again. I am a failure as an Earth Mother, I actively wanted to throw the entire pot of sugar with peaches at the sleeping man on the couch, who will never ever be able to live off the land or be self sufficient if I decide to be an alcoholic and run off to a beach someplace to live.
Pretty much, I don't want to spend every single spare moment of the summer evenings and weekends canning. I would really like to have this:
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
I Have to Teach Them WHAT?
We need a fun Blog today. Honestly, I cannot bear to read my own whining, so, I suppose no one else can, either.
Yesterday was my Birthday. It began with a walk at a brisker than usual pace. Sometimes, those morning walks keeps us sane. Sometimes, one of us needs to vent about whatever we need to vent about. It took Sue 3 miles to get it all out of her system yesterday. We finished our walk 10 minutes early and Sue felt a lot better.
Because of all the days off I have recently taken for George's various Dr. appts, breathing issues and fevers, I was insanely busy at work all day.
Around lunch time, my boss came and found me. By that time I was ready for a break, so off we went. We are trying to get all set and ready for the 2 races we are doing soon.
My boss, Kim, is taller than me. And has longer legs. And her fast walk is my gasping stumbling, shin splints, leg charlie horse, sprint. She cheerfully announced yesterday that her (our) goal is to do 15 minute or less miles. Seriously. Don't judge. I don't know if I have ever done a 15 minute mile before in my life. I honestly never paid attention. We were at 16.5 minute miles yesterday, with some hills included.
My confidence at doing the second race, a mud run full of obstacles is waning quickly. I am all bravado, though.
"How are you doing? You keeping up okay?" Calls Kim, as I lag 3 steps behind her at all times, completely unable to muster the ability to run up to catch up.
"Oh yes!!! Just fine! No problem! I need this!" I try to call out cheerfully.
I could say I am "Doing it", and that at least it's movement, and OHMYGOSH, I am pushing 40 and getting ready to do TWO races for the FIRST TIME EVER, and how the heck awesome is THAT??!!!!!! But, mostly, I am happy I can do it and still breathe.
This past weekend, I fit into my old jeans! Persistence pays off and all that. By "Fit into my old jeans" I mean, I could zip and button and still sit down. It didn't necessarily mean they were comfortable.
The next morning, Bearded Man woke me up with one of my favorite breakfasts ever. Breakfast Pizza from Rich's, the service station in our town. I haven't been able to bring myself to try on those jeans again, or step on a scale, because it's been downhill from there. I regret nothing. Not the 2 birthday cakes I was presented with yesterday, not the 2 glasses of wine at my friend Wendy's last night, not the resulting nausea this morning, and not the decision to skip hills this morning.
Okay, enough about all that. Maybe someday, I will be all slim and trim and be able to lope up hills like a gazelle. Or like the Hughes sisters who seemingly can do it without breaking a sweat or losing breath and are older than I am. Or the ever smiling elderly couple we pass on the hill every morning who also don't seem at all winded by it. And who smugly break into a jog when near us, because I am pretty sure they know we cannot.
Mostly, I am happy with the progress I am making one miserable ounce at a time. And, it keeps me sane when I think about all the chores that are piling up at home, and the completely unenthusiastic lack of help by the other occupants. Go ahead and judge. I think I need to ship my family away to live with the Amish for a month. I think all the time that some quality time with people who put their families to work while they are still in diapers might make my own family a little less miserable about helping out around the house.
Update on the George front: His blood work came back yesterday completely fine! Here's hoping that his cardiac workup on Friday is also fine.
Also. My house. It still reeks like skunk. Sometimes it seems as if the skunk comes back nightly and resprays the living room. Sometimes, coming down the stairs first thing in the morning and smelling the living room makes me just want to march back up stairs and go back to bed. There isn't a candle, deodorizer, freshener in the world with the staying power of skunk smell. I cannot get over how it smells like fresh skunk every single day. Not gonna lie. It's amazing. I thought maybe it would have waned a little by now. Not even a little.
The time for teaching Religious Education at my church is drawing near. Recently, the head of Religious Ed handed me a bunch of teaching guides and teaching things used by the last teacher, and reminded me I really needed to get a teaching plan together.
It all looked like Swahili to me. I could not for the life of me figure out exactly what was what. Nothing seemed to match anything, and I am completely uncertain as to what exactly I am doing. It all seemed so distant when I agreed to this. Now it is a month away, and I am clueless. What, exactly, do they WANT taught? And, do I REEEEAAAALLLLYYYY have to teach these kids about the church's stand on all things sex? Because I REEEAAAAALLLLYYYY don't want to. I don't think they make coloring pages or crafts for that, either.
So. I ordered "Catholicism for Dummies." because I thought maybe I could use some brushing up, and maybe I could use it to teach with. And maybe it would offer some sort of guidance.
I have not READ it. But, I HAVE flipped through it. And, oh my gosh. I discovered several more reasons I am going to hell. And I still don't know what I am doing.
My goal is to try to carve out some uninterrupted time to go through everything and create a plan. I can do this.
I thought "Just be honest! TELL the kids we are all learning this together!"
Then
"NO! Don't let them smell the proverbial blood!"
Then
"FUN! I need to make this interesting! Kaila said they were all bored and out of control last year."
Then
"Am I ALLOWED to do 'Fun'??
Then
"I am so going to have to color code it all like I do at work."
Then
'This is going to require shopping for pens and paper and notebooks and maybe a binder..."
Then
"I don't think I have enough teacher type clothes. I own scrubs and workout clothes anymore."
Then
"Oh yeah! I have a gift certificate for dinner for 2 I bought on Groupon, I should hire a sitter and go shopping for all this and think about it over dinner and wine."
Then
"This is why we are going to hell. I just decided I would need alcohol to figure out how to teach little kids about the Lord."
I am sure updates will be following as this progresses.
Yesterday was my Birthday. It began with a walk at a brisker than usual pace. Sometimes, those morning walks keeps us sane. Sometimes, one of us needs to vent about whatever we need to vent about. It took Sue 3 miles to get it all out of her system yesterday. We finished our walk 10 minutes early and Sue felt a lot better.
Because of all the days off I have recently taken for George's various Dr. appts, breathing issues and fevers, I was insanely busy at work all day.
Around lunch time, my boss came and found me. By that time I was ready for a break, so off we went. We are trying to get all set and ready for the 2 races we are doing soon.
My boss, Kim, is taller than me. And has longer legs. And her fast walk is my gasping stumbling, shin splints, leg charlie horse, sprint. She cheerfully announced yesterday that her (our) goal is to do 15 minute or less miles. Seriously. Don't judge. I don't know if I have ever done a 15 minute mile before in my life. I honestly never paid attention. We were at 16.5 minute miles yesterday, with some hills included.
My confidence at doing the second race, a mud run full of obstacles is waning quickly. I am all bravado, though.
"How are you doing? You keeping up okay?" Calls Kim, as I lag 3 steps behind her at all times, completely unable to muster the ability to run up to catch up.
"Oh yes!!! Just fine! No problem! I need this!" I try to call out cheerfully.
I could say I am "Doing it", and that at least it's movement, and OHMYGOSH, I am pushing 40 and getting ready to do TWO races for the FIRST TIME EVER, and how the heck awesome is THAT??!!!!!! But, mostly, I am happy I can do it and still breathe.
This past weekend, I fit into my old jeans! Persistence pays off and all that. By "Fit into my old jeans" I mean, I could zip and button and still sit down. It didn't necessarily mean they were comfortable.
The next morning, Bearded Man woke me up with one of my favorite breakfasts ever. Breakfast Pizza from Rich's, the service station in our town. I haven't been able to bring myself to try on those jeans again, or step on a scale, because it's been downhill from there. I regret nothing. Not the 2 birthday cakes I was presented with yesterday, not the 2 glasses of wine at my friend Wendy's last night, not the resulting nausea this morning, and not the decision to skip hills this morning.
Okay, enough about all that. Maybe someday, I will be all slim and trim and be able to lope up hills like a gazelle. Or like the Hughes sisters who seemingly can do it without breaking a sweat or losing breath and are older than I am. Or the ever smiling elderly couple we pass on the hill every morning who also don't seem at all winded by it. And who smugly break into a jog when near us, because I am pretty sure they know we cannot.
Mostly, I am happy with the progress I am making one miserable ounce at a time. And, it keeps me sane when I think about all the chores that are piling up at home, and the completely unenthusiastic lack of help by the other occupants. Go ahead and judge. I think I need to ship my family away to live with the Amish for a month. I think all the time that some quality time with people who put their families to work while they are still in diapers might make my own family a little less miserable about helping out around the house.
Update on the George front: His blood work came back yesterday completely fine! Here's hoping that his cardiac workup on Friday is also fine.
Also. My house. It still reeks like skunk. Sometimes it seems as if the skunk comes back nightly and resprays the living room. Sometimes, coming down the stairs first thing in the morning and smelling the living room makes me just want to march back up stairs and go back to bed. There isn't a candle, deodorizer, freshener in the world with the staying power of skunk smell. I cannot get over how it smells like fresh skunk every single day. Not gonna lie. It's amazing. I thought maybe it would have waned a little by now. Not even a little.
The time for teaching Religious Education at my church is drawing near. Recently, the head of Religious Ed handed me a bunch of teaching guides and teaching things used by the last teacher, and reminded me I really needed to get a teaching plan together.
It all looked like Swahili to me. I could not for the life of me figure out exactly what was what. Nothing seemed to match anything, and I am completely uncertain as to what exactly I am doing. It all seemed so distant when I agreed to this. Now it is a month away, and I am clueless. What, exactly, do they WANT taught? And, do I REEEEAAAALLLLYYYY have to teach these kids about the church's stand on all things sex? Because I REEEAAAAALLLLYYYY don't want to. I don't think they make coloring pages or crafts for that, either.
So. I ordered "Catholicism for Dummies." because I thought maybe I could use some brushing up, and maybe I could use it to teach with. And maybe it would offer some sort of guidance.
I have not READ it. But, I HAVE flipped through it. And, oh my gosh. I discovered several more reasons I am going to hell. And I still don't know what I am doing.
My goal is to try to carve out some uninterrupted time to go through everything and create a plan. I can do this.
I thought "Just be honest! TELL the kids we are all learning this together!"
Then
"NO! Don't let them smell the proverbial blood!"
Then
"FUN! I need to make this interesting! Kaila said they were all bored and out of control last year."
Then
"Am I ALLOWED to do 'Fun'??
Then
"I am so going to have to color code it all like I do at work."
Then
'This is going to require shopping for pens and paper and notebooks and maybe a binder..."
Then
"I don't think I have enough teacher type clothes. I own scrubs and workout clothes anymore."
Then
"Oh yeah! I have a gift certificate for dinner for 2 I bought on Groupon, I should hire a sitter and go shopping for all this and think about it over dinner and wine."
Then
"This is why we are going to hell. I just decided I would need alcohol to figure out how to teach little kids about the Lord."
I am sure updates will be following as this progresses.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Crazy Times
Sometimes, maybe we need the crazy times, to really appreciate the not so crazy times.
Throughout the last week, my house continues to smell like a skunk. And it continues to not be painted. Honestly, I think I will be so shocked when (if) it gets done, that I will not be able to process it completely. I actually dreamed last night that the neighbors left a long letter taped to the front door, outlining their collective reasons we should get our acts together and paint the house, and clean up all Bearded Man's projects in the driveway. And I was so happy, because I saw that it had started snowing in July, and everything would be covered with snow, thus giving me another 8 or so months to try and get things done around here.
This past week, we had a cat in the kitchen. I did not own this cat. It was not deliberately brought in by the kids. It just happened to wander though the back door.
Then there was the bat. Lexi was sitting at the kitchen table, when Turbo began to bark. Lexi looked over, and there, hanging next to her off the table cloth, was a bat, approximately 6 inches away.
The scream lasted through the entire house, and right out the front door. She sat cross legged on the front porch, hands folded, rocking back and forth saying "Ommmmmm. Ommmmmmmmm. Ommmmmmmm. Center. Relax. Calm. Ommmmmmmm."
Within minutes, my children began to behave like refugees. Starvation set in, they were all certain they would die soon. They all needed to use the bathroom less than 5 minutes after vacating the house, and the need for cell phones, shoes, and various objects was iminent.
A neighbor kid wandered over on her bike, and the kids excitedly told her about the bat.
"Well. How would it make you feel, if you knew you were RELATED to the bat?" The neighbor kid asked.
"What?"
"Well. Bats are mammals, just like you! You are RELATED to bats!"
"GO. HOME!" I snapped in exasperation.
I called my little sister, to see if we could wander her way for a few hours to kill time until Bearded Man could get home and get the bat. They are beyond what I wanted to deal with. Probably I COULD have, but, I didn't really want to. Sometimes, it's kinda nice, to pull the "girl" card.
The Earth Mother has struck again. I hate her.
This past weekend, I had the brilliant idea to go to the Amish and buy stuff. We ended up with a large box of peaches, sack of corn the size of George, and a book of Amish Home Remedies. (I had to stop reading that book, when I saw that the last ditch cure for hemorrhaging is a bible verse.)
In the spirit of this, Bearded Man went out and bought a pressure cooker, 2 dozen canning jars and pectin. He's been trying to get me to can things for years now. My project today, is to figure out how to make and can peach preserves, and peach slices. I may need more peaches. It has also been determined we should get another big bag of corn, peas, broccoli, assorted berries, carrots, and a pig. To start with. We (I) am also doing canned tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, storing garlic, and making apple sauce, apple rings, and soup. This will either be amazing or a failure. Mostly, I am doing the peaches because I want the fruit flies they came with out of my kitchen.
Today, I took George to the Doctor for his annual checkup and to get the staples out of his head. This past week, I took two days off of work, due to George.
Beginning this past February, George would occasionally wake up out of a dead sleep, or first thing in the morning, unable to breathe. He would have a barking gasping cough that seemed to start at the toes. His fingers would turn blue, he couldn't draw breath in, and it would take hours to get his breathing back to normal again. We have the nebulizer ready at all times, for when this happens.
Visits to the doctor were not helpful. It was recommended we try over the counter allergy medicine, and we were given albuterol for nebulizer treatments. His lungs were always clear by then, and he was always the very picture of good health. With every episode, it was becoming harder and harder to bring him out of it, and taking several hours before his breathing was normal again.
This past week, he had several nights of these episodes of waking up unable to breathe, with high fevers and that barking cough. And always, within 3 or so hours, he seemed fine again.
Today at the pediatrician, I insisted something was wrong. I told her about the blue fingers, the breathing issues during sleep, wondered about sleep apnea, allergies, but, SOMETHING was wrong with this kid, and it's getting worse.
I watched her face, as she listened to George's heart.
And then she listened some more. And I just KNEW.
In the medical world, sometimes you need a poker face. And sometimes you can't find your poker face. And today, she did not have a poker face.
So. Friday morning, George and I will be headed to the hospital for an EKG, an Echo cardiogram and an Xray. His tonsils look fine, but, she figured we would check the adenoids while we were at it, too.
I came home and listened to George's heart. And, it's a definite odd sound. But, sometimes, it can mean nothing. Actually, lots of people have odd heartbeats with no problems. Just hoping George is one of them!
I suppose things are meant to happen. How a person deals with the rough times is really half the battle. I have found this past few months, that I talk to God a lot more than I think I ever have collectively in my life.
And, I work out. A lot. It's an amazing stress reliever! It has really been an amazing outlet for everything! The working out has become a personal crusade. Not only is it a wonderful sanity saver, but, I really needed to have that movement, with such a sedentary job. I found that, sitting at my desk for such long periods was causing horrible knee pain. In talking to other people, I found that they have this issue, too! One friend recently had knee surgery, because of it.
So, I now get up at 5 am, and I walk with Turbo and a friend. And we do hills.
And, on my lunch breaks I walk as much as possible, adding as many hills as possible. And I do Zumba 3 days a week. And do kettlebell workouts when I can. And, I am signed up to do 2 races! Both within the next 6 weeks. One of them being a mud run with lots of obstacles. Not sure how physically ready I am for these races, but, I don't think I will die, either.
And, I can squeeze into my old jeans again! Not gonna lie, all that work went right out the window today after the George news. I took him to McDonald's. We stopped going there probably 9 months ago. Then I bought cookies. And I didn't work out. I will start again tomorrow.
That is the news in out household. It's been pretty crazy lately! I am ready for things to settle down now. Here's hoping the next post is a little more upbeat with lots of good news!
Throughout the last week, my house continues to smell like a skunk. And it continues to not be painted. Honestly, I think I will be so shocked when (if) it gets done, that I will not be able to process it completely. I actually dreamed last night that the neighbors left a long letter taped to the front door, outlining their collective reasons we should get our acts together and paint the house, and clean up all Bearded Man's projects in the driveway. And I was so happy, because I saw that it had started snowing in July, and everything would be covered with snow, thus giving me another 8 or so months to try and get things done around here.
This past week, we had a cat in the kitchen. I did not own this cat. It was not deliberately brought in by the kids. It just happened to wander though the back door.
Then there was the bat. Lexi was sitting at the kitchen table, when Turbo began to bark. Lexi looked over, and there, hanging next to her off the table cloth, was a bat, approximately 6 inches away.
The scream lasted through the entire house, and right out the front door. She sat cross legged on the front porch, hands folded, rocking back and forth saying "Ommmmmm. Ommmmmmmmm. Ommmmmmmm. Center. Relax. Calm. Ommmmmmmm."
Within minutes, my children began to behave like refugees. Starvation set in, they were all certain they would die soon. They all needed to use the bathroom less than 5 minutes after vacating the house, and the need for cell phones, shoes, and various objects was iminent.
A neighbor kid wandered over on her bike, and the kids excitedly told her about the bat.
"Well. How would it make you feel, if you knew you were RELATED to the bat?" The neighbor kid asked.
"What?"
"Well. Bats are mammals, just like you! You are RELATED to bats!"
"GO. HOME!" I snapped in exasperation.
I called my little sister, to see if we could wander her way for a few hours to kill time until Bearded Man could get home and get the bat. They are beyond what I wanted to deal with. Probably I COULD have, but, I didn't really want to. Sometimes, it's kinda nice, to pull the "girl" card.
The Earth Mother has struck again. I hate her.
This past weekend, I had the brilliant idea to go to the Amish and buy stuff. We ended up with a large box of peaches, sack of corn the size of George, and a book of Amish Home Remedies. (I had to stop reading that book, when I saw that the last ditch cure for hemorrhaging is a bible verse.)
In the spirit of this, Bearded Man went out and bought a pressure cooker, 2 dozen canning jars and pectin. He's been trying to get me to can things for years now. My project today, is to figure out how to make and can peach preserves, and peach slices. I may need more peaches. It has also been determined we should get another big bag of corn, peas, broccoli, assorted berries, carrots, and a pig. To start with. We (I) am also doing canned tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, storing garlic, and making apple sauce, apple rings, and soup. This will either be amazing or a failure. Mostly, I am doing the peaches because I want the fruit flies they came with out of my kitchen.
Today, I took George to the Doctor for his annual checkup and to get the staples out of his head. This past week, I took two days off of work, due to George.
Beginning this past February, George would occasionally wake up out of a dead sleep, or first thing in the morning, unable to breathe. He would have a barking gasping cough that seemed to start at the toes. His fingers would turn blue, he couldn't draw breath in, and it would take hours to get his breathing back to normal again. We have the nebulizer ready at all times, for when this happens.
Visits to the doctor were not helpful. It was recommended we try over the counter allergy medicine, and we were given albuterol for nebulizer treatments. His lungs were always clear by then, and he was always the very picture of good health. With every episode, it was becoming harder and harder to bring him out of it, and taking several hours before his breathing was normal again.
This past week, he had several nights of these episodes of waking up unable to breathe, with high fevers and that barking cough. And always, within 3 or so hours, he seemed fine again.
Today at the pediatrician, I insisted something was wrong. I told her about the blue fingers, the breathing issues during sleep, wondered about sleep apnea, allergies, but, SOMETHING was wrong with this kid, and it's getting worse.
I watched her face, as she listened to George's heart.
And then she listened some more. And I just KNEW.
In the medical world, sometimes you need a poker face. And sometimes you can't find your poker face. And today, she did not have a poker face.
So. Friday morning, George and I will be headed to the hospital for an EKG, an Echo cardiogram and an Xray. His tonsils look fine, but, she figured we would check the adenoids while we were at it, too.
I came home and listened to George's heart. And, it's a definite odd sound. But, sometimes, it can mean nothing. Actually, lots of people have odd heartbeats with no problems. Just hoping George is one of them!
I suppose things are meant to happen. How a person deals with the rough times is really half the battle. I have found this past few months, that I talk to God a lot more than I think I ever have collectively in my life.
And, I work out. A lot. It's an amazing stress reliever! It has really been an amazing outlet for everything! The working out has become a personal crusade. Not only is it a wonderful sanity saver, but, I really needed to have that movement, with such a sedentary job. I found that, sitting at my desk for such long periods was causing horrible knee pain. In talking to other people, I found that they have this issue, too! One friend recently had knee surgery, because of it.
So, I now get up at 5 am, and I walk with Turbo and a friend. And we do hills.
And, on my lunch breaks I walk as much as possible, adding as many hills as possible. And I do Zumba 3 days a week. And do kettlebell workouts when I can. And, I am signed up to do 2 races! Both within the next 6 weeks. One of them being a mud run with lots of obstacles. Not sure how physically ready I am for these races, but, I don't think I will die, either.
And, I can squeeze into my old jeans again! Not gonna lie, all that work went right out the window today after the George news. I took him to McDonald's. We stopped going there probably 9 months ago. Then I bought cookies. And I didn't work out. I will start again tomorrow.
That is the news in out household. It's been pretty crazy lately! I am ready for things to settle down now. Here's hoping the next post is a little more upbeat with lots of good news!
Monday, July 21, 2014
George Goes to the ER
It was a bad weekend. I noted two things this weekend:
1) Both years Joe has been getting ready to leave or return from Scout Camp, George has ended up in the Emergency Dept. I don't think Joe should go anymore.
2) One good thing I can say about winter is; It's okay if you leave chicken in your vehicle, and you don't have to worry when you let the dogs out at night.
All that being said, I type this at work while noting that my scrubs smell like skunk. And I want to sit right down and have a good cry at the vast volumes of laundry this could potentially mean.
Alright. Begin at the beginning. Saturday was crazy. We had approximately 4 million things that needed to be done this weekend. And it was drizzly and chilly and the kids were just not cooperating. We had several errands to run, and ended up somehow looking at backpacks for school. Lexi and George selected nice normal book bags. Joe regaled us with a lengthy argument as to why he needed the most expensive bag available.
- It was black. Which is sensible.
- It did not have a picture of a character that would be replaced by the next "cool" character.
- It would wear well.
- It would not need to be replaced halfway through the school year.
- It had plenty of space for his things and his school iPad.
- It would save money in the end, not needed to be replaced.
- It would not break thus his things wouldn't be ruined, and it would not cause him troubles walking home.
And on and on and on and on and on some more. However, we were there to get him set up with everything he needed for his Scout camping trip, and he will just have to wait till next time.
The entire day was just crazy. We took the kids to Saturday evening mass, with the thought that maybe for once we could have a somewhat leisurely morning Sunday. If we could get Joe all packed, and everything set, Sunday would be a little slower paced.
My brother was having a 30th birthday party for his girlfriend. Looking at how the day had been, and all the things that needed to be done, the weather and the temperature, I let him know we were going to bow out of this party.
I received a text telling me that he had already bought food, and that he really wanted us there, so, it was decided that the kids and I would go after church, and Bearded Man announced he would stay home and finish scraping the house.
During church, George was in top form. One of his new favorite songs is a country song with the line "Tonight it's bottoms up"
George coined "Tonight it's wienies up". And sang it loudly. Kaila confessed that she loves to watch my face when George talks.
We dropped Bearded Man off at home, and headed to my brother's house. We were there in the drizzling rain, and the kids were all playing down by the creek. Evidently the game was to try and throw stones and rocks across the creek to the other side. Not sure how it happened - if it was a mis-aim, or if George walked into the line of fire, but, my niece threw a large rock, and it hit George on top of his head.
My first thought when I saw him climb up the embankment toward me, with blood pouring down his face profusely, completely covering it, was that this was what a zombie Apocalypse will probably look like. He totally could have doubled in a horror movie. Myself and another guest, whom I think may have been an EMT scooped him up and hauled him into the house to clean him up and stop the bleeding. Head wounds bleed like crazy and often look worse than they are.
When I heard about the size of the rock, however, I thought we should probably get him to the ER, just to be sure.
The kids were packed back into me truck, and we headed home to drop the rest of them off on the way to the hospital.
Kaila announced very dramatically that she was coming with us, as this was her little brother, and she needed to be there for him, so, she came too. And confessed that she had almost fainted when she saw the bloody face. She doesn't deal well with blood.
Once at the hospital, I realized George and I were both covered in blood. And George was questioned by every single staff member that came near us, regarding child abuse.
He did not behave like he had just had head trauma. We were there about 3 hours, during which he:
Treated the bed like a race car as he was wheeled to the CT scan room. Begging to go faster, especially around the corners.
Figured out how to work the bed rails, both up and down
Figured out how to work all the peddles on the bed
Figured out how to make the back go up and down
Rearranged the chairs in the room repeatedly
Figured out all the buttons on the TV
Sang along with "Let it Go" on top of his lungs, as Disney was having a Singalong Saturday, God Bless Them
Locked himself in the bathroom: "Mom! I locked the door! You can't get in!!!!! ...... Still going potty, Mama! The door is still locked!!!!..... EWWWWWWW Somebody PEED IN A CUP!!!! And LEFT it here!!!!!...... the door is still locked, Mama!!!! I might stay in here forever!...... I need to wash my hands...... I need to do a VERY GOOD JOB, Mama!!!...... Hahahaha!!! The door is still locked!!! Nobody can get me now!!!!...... Now I need to dry my hands, Mama!!!!!" And, so it went. I really wasn't sure he would come out on his own. But, the entire area had a play by play of the entire experience.
He announced he was getting brain surgery
He told the nurses he was cooler than Batman AND Spider Man both.
He danced
He picked his nose, but announced it was okay, because he didn't plan to eat any boogers this time.
Announced he will probably work there someday.
It was exhausting.
2 staples in the head later, we were headed home. I thought maybe he would be a little more low key than usual the next morning. He was not, however. He woke up, padded into my room and snuggled with me for about 3 minutes, before the bouncing began.
"George! For the love of God, child, you just had head trauma! Knock it off before you end up back in the ER!"
"I'm still me, Mama." he stated matter of factly. "When can I go show Carter my head?" (His Bff...)
A few hours after we finally got to bed Saturday night, Bearded Man let Turbo out. Who was promptly sprayed by a skunk. And who came running back into the house in a panic, and managed to bounce all over all the furniture, before he was brought upstairs, and the baby gate was put in the door as it is every night. I was awakened by Turbo trying to wake me up, and the entire room so unbearable I could hardly breathe. Bearded Man was instructed with no small amount of angry hysteria to get the dog OUT of the bedroom, and I reached for my phone to look up home skunk smell remedies for dogs. Which required wrestling him into the bathtub and scrubbing him at length until almost 4 am, as, Dawn Dish soap does not rinse well out of thick husky coats.
Now, even after a full day of cleaning, trying every remedy I could find online, scrubbing, spraying, lighting candles, opening all doors and windows: my house still smells. Particularly the living room. And, sitting at work, I realize my scrubs do, too.
And, with all the excitement, Joe never did get packed for camp, so, it was a frenzied rush, getting his things together, and hurriedly tossing him out the door. The poor kid. It wasn't the dramatic loving mother send off that I think he may have been expecting. I rock as a mom.
Bearded Man was a little too cheerful, about leaving to take Joe to Scout Camp, considering the state of the house, and the monster with the head wound.... One look at my face as he danced happily out the door, and, he had flowers when he wandered back through it. 8.5 hours later.....
Joe was successfully settled at Scout Camp. They call water "Bug Juice" there, claiming that they put dead bug juice in it. Joe agreed that the protein is probably good for everyone.
He pointed out that the pool was too cold, and will probably give a lecture about hypothermia.
Before leaving, the girls were doing one of those online quizzes that tell you what you will be in life. "Pick an insect. Spider, ant, beetle-" "SPIDERS AREN'T INSECTS!!!!!!!! And this dumb quiz can tell you if you will be an "INTELLECTUAL GENIUS???!!!!!" So, I think the reprieve might be a good thing for Joe and his siblings. George torments the daylights out of him, just because of the reaction he is bound to get.
That's it in the household. The house is still not painted, but, I am hoping it will be before summer is out. It is on the premises, so, there is that.....
1) Both years Joe has been getting ready to leave or return from Scout Camp, George has ended up in the Emergency Dept. I don't think Joe should go anymore.
2) One good thing I can say about winter is; It's okay if you leave chicken in your vehicle, and you don't have to worry when you let the dogs out at night.
All that being said, I type this at work while noting that my scrubs smell like skunk. And I want to sit right down and have a good cry at the vast volumes of laundry this could potentially mean.
Alright. Begin at the beginning. Saturday was crazy. We had approximately 4 million things that needed to be done this weekend. And it was drizzly and chilly and the kids were just not cooperating. We had several errands to run, and ended up somehow looking at backpacks for school. Lexi and George selected nice normal book bags. Joe regaled us with a lengthy argument as to why he needed the most expensive bag available.
- It was black. Which is sensible.
- It did not have a picture of a character that would be replaced by the next "cool" character.
- It would wear well.
- It would not need to be replaced halfway through the school year.
- It had plenty of space for his things and his school iPad.
- It would save money in the end, not needed to be replaced.
- It would not break thus his things wouldn't be ruined, and it would not cause him troubles walking home.
And on and on and on and on and on some more. However, we were there to get him set up with everything he needed for his Scout camping trip, and he will just have to wait till next time.
The entire day was just crazy. We took the kids to Saturday evening mass, with the thought that maybe for once we could have a somewhat leisurely morning Sunday. If we could get Joe all packed, and everything set, Sunday would be a little slower paced.
My brother was having a 30th birthday party for his girlfriend. Looking at how the day had been, and all the things that needed to be done, the weather and the temperature, I let him know we were going to bow out of this party.
I received a text telling me that he had already bought food, and that he really wanted us there, so, it was decided that the kids and I would go after church, and Bearded Man announced he would stay home and finish scraping the house.
During church, George was in top form. One of his new favorite songs is a country song with the line "Tonight it's bottoms up"
George coined "Tonight it's wienies up". And sang it loudly. Kaila confessed that she loves to watch my face when George talks.
We dropped Bearded Man off at home, and headed to my brother's house. We were there in the drizzling rain, and the kids were all playing down by the creek. Evidently the game was to try and throw stones and rocks across the creek to the other side. Not sure how it happened - if it was a mis-aim, or if George walked into the line of fire, but, my niece threw a large rock, and it hit George on top of his head.
My first thought when I saw him climb up the embankment toward me, with blood pouring down his face profusely, completely covering it, was that this was what a zombie Apocalypse will probably look like. He totally could have doubled in a horror movie. Myself and another guest, whom I think may have been an EMT scooped him up and hauled him into the house to clean him up and stop the bleeding. Head wounds bleed like crazy and often look worse than they are.
When I heard about the size of the rock, however, I thought we should probably get him to the ER, just to be sure.
The kids were packed back into me truck, and we headed home to drop the rest of them off on the way to the hospital.
Kaila announced very dramatically that she was coming with us, as this was her little brother, and she needed to be there for him, so, she came too. And confessed that she had almost fainted when she saw the bloody face. She doesn't deal well with blood.
Once at the hospital, I realized George and I were both covered in blood. And George was questioned by every single staff member that came near us, regarding child abuse.
He did not behave like he had just had head trauma. We were there about 3 hours, during which he:
Treated the bed like a race car as he was wheeled to the CT scan room. Begging to go faster, especially around the corners.
Figured out how to work the bed rails, both up and down
Figured out how to work all the peddles on the bed
Figured out how to make the back go up and down
Rearranged the chairs in the room repeatedly
Figured out all the buttons on the TV
Sang along with "Let it Go" on top of his lungs, as Disney was having a Singalong Saturday, God Bless Them
Locked himself in the bathroom: "Mom! I locked the door! You can't get in!!!!! ...... Still going potty, Mama! The door is still locked!!!!..... EWWWWWWW Somebody PEED IN A CUP!!!! And LEFT it here!!!!!...... the door is still locked, Mama!!!! I might stay in here forever!...... I need to wash my hands...... I need to do a VERY GOOD JOB, Mama!!!...... Hahahaha!!! The door is still locked!!! Nobody can get me now!!!!...... Now I need to dry my hands, Mama!!!!!" And, so it went. I really wasn't sure he would come out on his own. But, the entire area had a play by play of the entire experience.
He announced he was getting brain surgery
He told the nurses he was cooler than Batman AND Spider Man both.
He danced
He picked his nose, but announced it was okay, because he didn't plan to eat any boogers this time.
Announced he will probably work there someday.
It was exhausting.
2 staples in the head later, we were headed home. I thought maybe he would be a little more low key than usual the next morning. He was not, however. He woke up, padded into my room and snuggled with me for about 3 minutes, before the bouncing began.
"George! For the love of God, child, you just had head trauma! Knock it off before you end up back in the ER!"
"I'm still me, Mama." he stated matter of factly. "When can I go show Carter my head?" (His Bff...)
A few hours after we finally got to bed Saturday night, Bearded Man let Turbo out. Who was promptly sprayed by a skunk. And who came running back into the house in a panic, and managed to bounce all over all the furniture, before he was brought upstairs, and the baby gate was put in the door as it is every night. I was awakened by Turbo trying to wake me up, and the entire room so unbearable I could hardly breathe. Bearded Man was instructed with no small amount of angry hysteria to get the dog OUT of the bedroom, and I reached for my phone to look up home skunk smell remedies for dogs. Which required wrestling him into the bathtub and scrubbing him at length until almost 4 am, as, Dawn Dish soap does not rinse well out of thick husky coats.
Now, even after a full day of cleaning, trying every remedy I could find online, scrubbing, spraying, lighting candles, opening all doors and windows: my house still smells. Particularly the living room. And, sitting at work, I realize my scrubs do, too.
And, with all the excitement, Joe never did get packed for camp, so, it was a frenzied rush, getting his things together, and hurriedly tossing him out the door. The poor kid. It wasn't the dramatic loving mother send off that I think he may have been expecting. I rock as a mom.
Bearded Man was a little too cheerful, about leaving to take Joe to Scout Camp, considering the state of the house, and the monster with the head wound.... One look at my face as he danced happily out the door, and, he had flowers when he wandered back through it. 8.5 hours later.....
Joe was successfully settled at Scout Camp. They call water "Bug Juice" there, claiming that they put dead bug juice in it. Joe agreed that the protein is probably good for everyone.
He pointed out that the pool was too cold, and will probably give a lecture about hypothermia.
Before leaving, the girls were doing one of those online quizzes that tell you what you will be in life. "Pick an insect. Spider, ant, beetle-" "SPIDERS AREN'T INSECTS!!!!!!!! And this dumb quiz can tell you if you will be an "INTELLECTUAL GENIUS???!!!!!" So, I think the reprieve might be a good thing for Joe and his siblings. George torments the daylights out of him, just because of the reaction he is bound to get.
That's it in the household. The house is still not painted, but, I am hoping it will be before summer is out. It is on the premises, so, there is that.....
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