Mom and Dad

She likes apple juice on her night stand first thing in the morning. Six ice cubes in her water. Tea is required at each meal. Lunch is her bigger meal – her appetite wanes as the day goes on. She doesn’t like chicken or cookies anymore and wonders why I can’t remember that. Her wastebasket goes between her purse and slippers right beside her bed.

I can hear her snoring as she sleeps. I can hear her breathing when she’s awake. It’s labored and loud. She is bald and rarely wears her wig anymore. Her head hangs down when she is sitting upright to eat. She’s too tired to hold it up. She wears a nightgown and robe all the time, but wants a long sleeved night shirt and pants instead. She doesn’t like how her gown gets all bunched up. I will shop for those tomorrow.

He is naked in a hospital bed with only a backless gown. Tubes drain his wound, a pacemaker keeps his heart regulated and a pillow lies vertically over his chest and pelvis. His mood is pragmatic and calm. He is uncomfortable, but amazed that he feels as good as he does. He’ll probably be in for a few more days.

Each fingertip is black and blue from all the glucose testing. Insulin is needed for awhile as his body recovers from the shock of surgery. He has swollen calves and ankles supported with white hose. I have only seen the top inch of his incision. It’s thick, red and ominous. His biggest concern is for his wife. “Go home, Carol. You know she falls.”

In two or so days, I will have to care for both of them in their home. It scares me to death.

saturday

Update:

It's still dark outside when it really should be light, and I have a splitting headache from all the noise at Harrison's school carnival last night, but I'm still happy! Why? Because my dad made it through his surgery and the closing went through without any glitches.

The only thing I'm upset about? I never got my cocktail.

Cocktail hour cannot come soon enough Friday night

I ‘m feeling content and cozy tonight. I’m happy to be where I am at this moment. Literally and figuratively.

I love my house. It is small, but suits our needs right now. Ok – I lied. One SMALL bathroom is not enough for four (plus an occasional visit from a large, clumsy 12 year old step son), but we manage. Built in ’27, it has just enough character to satisfy my need for an old house, but it’s not so old that it’s falling apart and in need of constant care. In the evening, we rarely use the overhead can lights and turn on lamps. After dinner, instead of cleaning up, we just turn off the big lights and flip on our under cabinet lights. If you can’t see the dirty dishes – it makes it hard to clean them up. It’s our theory and we’re stickin’ to it.

Anyway, the ambience at night is really nice. When the kids are bathed, smell clean and using “inside” voices, it just all adds up as a great moment. That’s what happened tonight. Both of the kids were happy. They played well together, and for the most part, there were few conflicts of any sort. I think I’m so content because I’m feeling thankful for what I have. I’m thankful that my family is healthy and that we don’t have to get up early tomorrow to go to a hospital.

My mom called to make sure I knew what was the latest for tomorrow. Dad’s cold will not get in the way of him having surgery first thing in the morning. He has to be at the hospital at 4:45 AM. Surgery is scheduled for 7 AM. It is supposed to be over by noon. FIVE HOURS. I didn’t realize it was going to be so long. Now that I’m a fan of Grey’s Anatomy, I have a pretty clear visual of what I assume the scene will look like. The thought of heart/lung machines and his chest cracked open for that long is pretty weird. I can only hope that his surgeon, (and his hot, young assistant surgeons), will all be thrilled at the prospect of giving my dad a new valve and a longer, healthier future. Sure there’ll be a few harrowing moments, but in the end my dad will come through with flying colors and they’ll all go to some neighborhood bar tomorrow night and talk about how cool it was to touch my dad’s beating heart.

I will wait all morning for my brother to call and tell me that everything is fine. I will also wait for my realtor to call and tell me that our closing (also in the morning) went smoothly. Tomorrow is the 28th. Finally. Our vacation home is going to a good family.
I do feel peaceful, but I can’t exactly tell you why. I think it’s because I know I am going home. My parents desperately need me and I’m looking forward to helping them. I will miss my kids and my husband terribly, but I’m keeping my perspective. There will be plenty of Halloweens for me to enjoy with them. My parents will probably never need me this much ever again. They are my biggest fans. Their loyalty to me is unsurpassed. I cannot wait to give back

Sunset back home

 

Did I teach my son to say that?

Harry is not a big talker. Not the kind to give me lots of details about his day. I have to go to my neighbor to find out what’s really going on in his class. Today, however, was a little different. Usually I have to beg to get even tiny tidbits of information about anything going on in his Kindergarten world. Not today. I give credit to a stranger. An important stranger - Harrison's first substitute teacher.

Me: “Did you smile for your picture today?” (retakes – first one is pretty horrid)

Harry: “I didn’t get my picture taken today. We had a substitute today and she got all freaked out and forgot.”

Me: “What?”

Harry: “Yeah, she got mixed up and forgot.”

Me: (fuming because now I’m stuck with the goofy original picture due to this woman) “That’s okay – we all make mistakes.”

Harry: “Oh – you know what else happened? Julian got hurt on the playground and she really started freaking out.”

Me: (not sure if I should laugh or be alarmed) “What happened to Julian?”

Harry: “He got hurt and ran inside. She was really freaking out.”

Me: “She thought Julian was lost?”

Harry: “Yeah, she was really freaking out.”

Stuff going through my head

This is a picture of my office. I'm in the one on the right. My school just moved into a new building and this was obviously taken before completion. It's much better than the portable classroom we were housed in last year, but I really wish I had a window. I should be thrilled to be in a new space, but I'm not. I don't like my job right now. That's all I'll say.

I think I'm more worried about my dad's upcoming heart surgery than I thought. I find myself crying about it at the weirdest moments. He has a cold that won't go away. He may not be able to have the surgery this Friday if he doesn't get healthy. I have a plane ticket for Sunday. I hope I don't have to change it.

The details for our house closing this Friday are all coming together. I will probably find it hard to celebrate due to my dad's surgery and the fact that we lost our SHIRTS!!!! on this sale.

My mom's health status is starting to get to her. She casually mentioned to me, at the end of a phone conversation this morning, that she thinks she's heading into a deep depression. Ummm. I don't know how to handle that. I can't tell her to get out and keep busy - she's bedridden. I guess I knew this was coming.

I'm happy that Ella's asthma is under control. She is back to her happy, semi-compliant self.

As I mention weekly, life can be tedious. I am very lucky to have a best friend in my husband. Without his cooperation and support, I doubt I could get through all of this. He puts up with my deer-in-the-headlights perma-look lately. I seem to just stand in the middle of rooms and spin around - not knowing why I'm in that room or what I need to be doing.

I'm kind of mad at God. I wish that my mom could get a break.

I love Fall in Utah. It's warm and colorful.

I'm exhausted most of the time. I think someone should invent a coffee that could keep me awake, yet never give me the shakes.

That's it for now.

Watch out, Emeril!

I get to stay home this morning with the kids because Ella is not "significantly better" by today which means we need to go back to the doctor. Her orders.

I jumped in the shower hoping they would both stay put, but I had this feeling.

Sure enough - when I got out, Harrison had the bowl for pancakes out, the mix and a glass of water. He had gone ahead and mixed up the batter without me. No measuring cups needed. My first instinct - besides wondering how we were going to use the five gallons of batter he had mixed up - was to assume that his pancake mix would be bad. Not as good as mine - the one I create by following the dirctions impeccably.

I added a bit of mix because the dough seemed watery. I made some pancakes before my addition, though. Wouldn't you know - his mix was better. His pancakes were lighter and fluffier. Damn kid. 

I need a do-over

In the college class I’m co-teaching, “Essentials of College Study”, we cover all sorts of wonderful topics that would make anyone a better student and, in general, a more efficient human being. Since the semester began, we’ve helped our students discover their learning styles, taught them how to use their time more efficiently and how to read more effectively. I did a fun unit on memory and how to retrieve information from your brain when you need it and now I’m teaching them about note taking (YAWN) and taking responsibility for yourself (SOMEONE HAS TO!)

All of these techniques and skills have some things in common – they insist that the student is motivated and that they are organized. WHO WOULDN’T BE MORE EFFECTIVE IN LIFE IF THEY COULD BE THIS WAY!

I’m sitting at my desk at school writing this, instead of planning for today’s lecture, because I’m still winding down from my morning BEFORE I left for work. It’s mid-morning and I’m still frazzled. As I prepare to tell my students, this afternoon, how to organize the things they hear in a lecture into legible graphic organizers, I am feeling hypocritical. I can’t organize my sock drawer, let alone my lesson plan or work priorities.

This morning I turned off the alarm at 5:00 AM and fell back asleep until 5:08 AM. Not a big deal, but enough to throw me off a bit. I jumped up and grabbed my bike shorts, etc. and went into the bathroom to change. I decided that I was too tired to put my contacts in at that moment and went to the kitchen to get some water and a graham cracker. I turned on my laptop and checked many of my favorite blogs and the news. Out of character, I thought of a cute little post and proceeded to enter it. It didn’t post right and I fussed for about 5 minutes until I realized how late I was. At 5:45, which is when I’m normally in my car, I ran into the bathroom and realized that I still had to put in my contacts, pull my hair back and fill my water bottle.

I made it to my spinning class on time, but was a tad flustered. I was home at 7:04 and the kids were just coming out of their room. The starting gun had fired.

Harry: “Moooommmm? Ella is getting out of bed even though she’s sick.” (Ella has a bad cough, and because she has asthma, we take her to the doctor often. Harry went with yesterday.)

Ella: (WHINE, WHINE)

Me: “It’s ok – it’s time to get up anyway.”

Milk was put in sippy cups and the two were sent to the TV to watch cartoons so that I could get ready for work. I then picked out their outfits and laid them on their beds. It’s now about 7:11 AM and I hear Chris starting the shower. “HEY! I need to get in there first,” I screamed. “I’ve been out here doing SELFLESS things and … well…let me go first.” I got my way and took a really fast shower followed by a quick application of minimal makeup.

At this point, I am trying not to be mad at Chris. He has been working really late hours lately and needed to sleep in a bit. I raced into the kitchen and started making three lunches. Of course, I try to incorporate all the food groups and won’t buy those pre-packaged snack-able thingys. I started cursing myself for that. Washing pea pods and cutting apples into slices is FOR THE BIRDS on days like today. At 7:28 AM, I’m somewhere in the middle of the lunch making process, when I realize that the kids are not dressed. I turn off Mr. Rogers and tell them to get dressed before the TV will come back on. Ella doesn’t like her shirt. “I want the one with the flowers!” “This one?” “No.” “This one?” “No.” “This one?” “No.” It was at this point that I lost it. I still had no idea what I was wearing today. My hair was sopping wet. My kids hadn’t eaten breakfast and the backpacks weren’t even organized yet. I had a melt down and grabbed EVERY shirt in Ella’s drawer and threw them on her bed and the floor. It took me three handfuls to empty the drawer. With a crazed look in my eye, I screamed, “PICK ANY SHIRT YOU WANT – I REALLY DON’T CARE.” Harrison knew this was his moment. For once, he was the “good” child. The compliant child. “Look Mommy! I’m all dressed.” It was a scene that I never want to see again. I was thankful that Chris was still in the bathroom with the fan on and couldn’t hear me.

I walked out of their room and finished the lunches, got myself dressed, and started drying my hair. I really thought I had more time, but when I went to put shoes on the kids, I noticed the clock – 7:58 AM. I need to be on the road at 8:00 to get to work at 8:30. I am ALWAYS the last one to arrive. I turned off “Arthur” and tried to calm my voice while I whisper-screamed orders to my two kids: “Get your coats on! Let me tie that shoe again!” “No – you can’t have any more cereal. We’re out of time.”
The coffee (an absolutely NECESSARY companion for my morning commute) was still brewing as I raced out the door with Harrison’s coat and backpack. I noticed, at the end of the driveway, that I had forgotten his lunch. I ran up the driveway to the back door and into the kitchen. No lunch. Chris was at the front door yelling to Harry to come and grab his lunch. I raced out the front door, practically knocking Chris over, and grabbed the lunch like a runner grabs a baton in a relay race. We ran down the sidewalk to the neighbor’s with Ella right behind us - a bowl of cereal and a spoon in tow. I rang their doorbell, tried to be cordial, but ran back with Ella as fast as I could.

As I entered the kitchen again, I grabbed my stuff and screamed for Chris to move the van out of the way of my car. (We have a huge garage that could hold our cars, but we prefer giving our plastic swimming pools plenty of room to breathe and let them occupy the garage, so our cars sit single file in the driveway.) I ran out to the car and had to turn right around to get coffee. I have become an expert at pouring my coffee into a travel mug while simultaneously carrying a laptop backpack, purse and lunch bag on individual fingers in one hand so that I can hold my keys in the other and open doors.

As I finally proceeded down the street at 8:09 AM, I was breathing hard. My phone rang when I was about three blocks away. I had forgotten some papers I wanted to bring today, but I just didn’t have the time or energy to turn around again.

I do realize how I can make my mornings run more smoothly. I KNOW that I can lay out clothes the night before. I KNOW that I could make lunches the night before – or prepackage the lunch dry goods on Sunday for the week. I KNOW that I could use my time while I’m waking up, before exercising, more effectively. What I don’t know is how to find energy to do all that at night. My peak energy period is morning. I don’t have a lot of energy at that time, but I definitely have more than after a long day of work, making dinner, giving baths or running errands. By 9:00 PM, I am done.

Chris announced to me, somewhere in the middle of all the chaos of this morning, that he would be working late tonight. I cannot wait to finish my day, pick up the kids, make them dinner, clean up the mess from last night, this morning and tonight in the kitchen and then fall on the couch for whatever drama or HGTV program interests me.

The cycle of life, right now, is tedious. I’m finishing this post in class while I let my students work on an essay I assigned. I asked them to analyze this quote: “Good or bad, everything we do is our best choice at that moment.” Dr. William Glasser. The assignment is an exercise that has them delve into the concept of self-responsibility. I probably need to write an essay myself. I think we all need reminders about this once in awhile. It’s very easy to lay blame or make excuses. Here’s to a better tomorrow!

Early roots of feminism

Me: What did you and Spencer play at recess today?

H: We played a game.

Me: What game was that?

H: The saaame game we allllways play.

Me: What game was that?

H: (Nonchalantly) Ummm, the girls chase the boys all over the playground.

Monday

She looks how I feel.

Blah, blah, whine, whine

I feel as if my blog has become a chronicle of my life miseries with a few cute anecdotes thrown in.

I know I have a lot going on right now, but who doesn't?! I guess I just want you all (my seven or eight adoring fans!) to know that I am fine. Life is what you make of it.

"There are times when we must sink to the bottom of our misery to understand truth, just as we must descend to the bottom of a well to see the stars in broad daylight." --Vaclav Havel

I don't think I'm at "the bottom", but I do think there is a lot of crap in my life right now. I don't understand it all, but I'm ok with the journey. I just didn't want anyone to think I'm have a pity party.

Just felt the need to clarify that.

Good. I feel better.

Torn

I have officially become a “tween”. Not the "kid" version.  No, I am a caregiver on two ends and I’m feeling squished!

As anyone with kids knows, preschool aged kids are demanding. Not more so than any other age, but still demanding. They can’t reach things or tie their shoes. They can’t express themselves very well and are easily frustrated getting out their complex thoughts. The whining and tantrums associated with this developmental stage will probably cause me to run in front of a bus one of these days! Their constant needs are tiring because they are CONSTANT.

H or E: “Mom, I need a rag.”
Me: “Why?”
H or E: “Because my yogurt spilled….Mom, I need a rag!!!!”
Me: “I’m working on it. Please don’t talk to me in that tone.”
H or E: “I need it!!!! I spilled my milk.” (whining and crying start to accompany this request)
Me: “Oh…that’s ok. Calm down.”
H or E: “Mom, don’t do it for me! I want to clean it up.”
Me: “Oh…ok. Please don’t yell at me, though. I was trying to help.”
H or E: “Mom!!!! I can’t do it right – I don’t want this silly rag! I hate yogurt!”

Many times a day I will have similar interactions with either of my kids. They are trying to be independent, but have a never ending desire to be dependent at the same time. The patience required and the physical demands are high. Parenting is a lot of work. (You can quote me on that, by the way.)

Parenting is a caregiving task that most people comprehend even if they don’t have kids. Taking care of elderly parents is something foreign to most people I know. I was born relatively late in my parents’ lives. My mom was 37 when she had me – my dad was 35. Now they are older than most of my friends' parents. I can look to my mom for advice, but probably won't so I don't appear to be complaining. My dad’s mom developed breast cancer, and let it go untreated for a long time, before I was born. By the time I was born, she needed constant care and had lost both of her breasts and an arm to the disease. She moved in with my parent’s when I was an infant. My mom didn’t work and did the bulk of her care. She died when I was about 18 months old. I remember my mother describing it as a very tough period in her life. Newly married, new to New York state, new mom and caregiver to her mother in law – I can’t even imagine.

I find myself, though, in a somewhat similar situation. I have two beautiful children to care for, but I also have two parents that need care. My father informed me last Friday that he needs heart valve replacement surgery as soon as possible. They have scheduled it for October 28th. (The same day that our house closes!) He will be in the hospital for four days and then a nursing home for about 7-10 days. He won’t be able to drive for two months after that.

I need to go help. I want to go help. My mom can’t stay alone – she’s still bed ridden from her cancer. My dad needs someone to visit and stay with him in the hospital and then the care facility. My brother lives right there in Minneapolis, but has two jobs and is a single parent to three kids. He will do what he can, but I’m the willing and logical choice to take care of my mom while he’s gone. In-home health care is cost prohibitive and ewwwwww! I don’t want a stranger sleeping in our house. I’m taking the second shift. My brother will take my dad to the hospital and stay through his surgery. He’ll stay with my mom that first weekend and then they’d like me to come that Monday. Halloween.

I love my parents to death. I want to be there for my dad. I want to help my mom. I’m so sad, though, that I won’t be able to go trick-or-treating with my kids or go watch Harrison in the Kindergarten costume parade. This “tween” stuff is for the birds.

What we did this weekend

We started decorating for Halloween.

Ella and I went shopping and TOTALLY splurged on these back-to-school shoes. (She HUGGED them when she first saw them...what was I supposed to do?)

Chris and Harry installed the IKEA lights we bought this summer. FINALLY.

Harrison wanted to draw Noah's Ark, but couldn't figure out how...so he put together his puzzle as a reference. Pretty cool.

We entertained our friends for "movie night"

Taking a break.

Licking the bowl.

I should've been there

We are really fortunate to have three neighbor kids on our block that are Harrison’s age. Each of these kids has a younger sibling who is Ella’s age. Each of the five year olds is in Harry’s Kindergarten class. All six of these children are female - we affectionately call them “Harry’s Harem.” During this past year as new Utahns, Harrison has all but ignored his harem. Why play with girls when there are two boys right around the corner? However, when classroom assignments were posted this fall, all three girls were placed with the same teacher as my boy. We knew that Kyle and Harry would be disappointed with this, but tried to look at it as a great opportunity to get to know the girls on our street better.

One of the girl’s mother graciously walks Harrison to and from school. It is so nice knowing that he is with someone who truly cares for him. She’ll call me most afternoons and tell me wonderful stories about what Harry and her daughter have been up to. When I forget which day is “show and tell” or book fair day – she’s there to remind me. It’s a great arrangement.

Harrison must feel secure with Kindergarten and my neighbor because he has been happy this fall. Really happy. He has moments, of course, when he would rather stay home, but for the most part he is excited and eager to learn. He has become much more verbal and social with others. It seems as if he is starting to really come into his own.

Yesterday, as I was driving home and chatting with the neighbor about Harrison, I mentioned a bit of guilt about Ella. I don’t have as much concern about her, or her behavior, while she is away from me. We talked about how the second child doesn’t get as much attention and came to the conclusion that they don’t seem to need as much. Ella’s disposition is generally easier than Harrison's. She is able to satisfy most of her needs on her own and is compliant most of the time.

Feeling positive about both of my kids after my phone call, I sauntered into preschool to pick them up after work yesterday. They greeted me in the foyer of the school and I noticed a red mark on Ella’s cheek. I assumed it was lipstick or makeup gone awry. As I got closer, unfortunately I was wrong. Ella tripped on the sidewalk that surrounds the playground and fell on her face. She bit into her lips on the inside of her mouth and scraped up her face pretty badly. When I saw her, and heard all of this from her teacher, I just grabbed her. I must have held on for over two minutes.

I know that kids fall and get hurt, but to me it seemed to take on a deeper meaning. It was as if a heavy medicine ball was thrown into my gut. It pushed me over and when I got up – I was more aware and thankful for the gifts in my life. My kids are hard work and give me a lot of reasons to complain. I was reminded last night that life is fragile and things can change quickly. I pray that this is the only “reminder” I receive for quite some time.

I'm sounding a bit melodramatic - I know! Don't bug me about it - it goes with being a mom!

The negotiating is over....for now.

The buyers, I'm convinced, are bi-polar. One minute they want to live in the historic register neighborhood in which our house is located more than anything - the next they are freaked out because the garage is not in the best condition. So what if one of the windows broke in their hands when they tried to open it? They are original, wavy and OLD - 110 years old to be exact. I know that that can be disconcerting, but they know that things like that go with the territory. The furnace worked well during our tenure, but amazingly their inspector (Uncle Bob who just happens to be a heating contractor posing as an inspector) found seven hundred dollars worth of repair work. They love the three fireplaces in the downstairs main living areas. Female buyer C has already commissioned portraits to be done of her three kids to put over "her" three new mantels. They don't love the knob and tube wiring in the attic. If it is not repaired, they will walk.

We have decided to just give them what they want - money off the already incredibly low price and some cash back to fix a few things. I have contacted a lender who AMAZINGLY is willing to give us some money to cover these expenses and the final loss amount. Closing is set for the end of the month. THIS month. By Halloween it could all be over. By Halloween we could be ready to begin the next stage of our life. I need to think of a really creative and symbolic costume to celebrate this gigantic event.

Weekend in Moab

So much sand to dig in, so little time.

My favorite little outdoor girl

Corona Arch

Slick rock

It's pretty hard to hike with a child on your shoulders, but it's even harder to listen to their whines!

Preparing for a vacation is always trying. I anticipate the worst and hope for the best. This trip, however, I tried so hard to not worry and to prepare as well as I could (or was willing to) and to let go of the rest. I had plenty of time to pack for this trip to Moab, but still managed to forget some critical items – Ella’s asthma medications, her still-not-completely-potty-trained-nighttime-diapers, and the crayons. Medications can be skipped for a couple days, diapers can be borrowed from your more prepared traveling partner, but the crayons! Being without crayons during a semi-long car ride can become tortuous. Both of the kids have become art fiends lately, so the absence of their creative outlet was painful. Since I took away their kinesthetic tools, they substituted. Their instrument of choice was their voices. Screaming, whining, singing and arguing were heard from the back seat for over 8 hours this past weekend.

By the time we got home, we were back to square one – not wanting to ever travel with the kids again! We go through these stages. We’ll have a hard time with the kids and vow never to do again whatever it is that bugged us so much in the first place. Of course we’ll forget soon and do it again anyway.

Actually, the trip went really well while we were in Moab. I feel so fortunate to live so close to such beautiful scenery. We stayed in a great condo with Beth and family. My kids were so thrilled to have their favorite playmates sleeping in the next room. The big boys gravitated to the Legos and Tonka trucks, while the three year olds enjoyed playing “family”. The secret favorite toys of the weekend, however, were the Barbies. It was pretty cute to see different kids playing alone with them, off and on, throughout the weekend.

Highlights of the trip were the hikes, of course. Our first hike was along a stream that had flooded recently. It was definitely one of the more lush places in this part of the country. There are times, when walking in areas of Moab, that make you feel like you’re on the moon. That was how it felt on the second hike. Slick rock is prevalent in this part of the state. It is easy to get lost when hiking on it because there is no path to follow. Piles of rocks, called cairns, are placed along these types of trails to help you find your way back similar to the bread crumbs left by Hansel and Gretel.

I went to work happier today. Harrison and Ella seem happier, too. Tonight, Harry kept hugging Chris and I. He loves family togetherness. We certainly had a lot of that the past few days. Looking back at the photos helps fade the memories of the arduous car travel and relentless packing, unpacking and planning. I’m so glad we do these kind of things. There’s nothing quite like hearing your children ask if they can go back to Moab soon.

House update: Tuesday at midnight is our last deadline with Buyer C. We have to agree to pay to "repair" a number of items around the house. If we can afford everything, we will. We sign an agreement to do that and then the deal is all but done. Hard to believe, so I won't quite yet.

These Tevas have made the rounds this year. This particular stream, in Moab, Utah, we encountered during a hike in Negro Bill Canyon this weekend. I'll write more later...right now I'm bathing the kids and trying to unpack.