Yes m’am, there are chickens in the rehab wing… January 28, 2007

Grandmother:  “Did I tell you about the chicken in my room?” 

[She's 86 years old and temporarily in a rehab facility awaiting her beautiful new apartment in an assisted living home.]

Me:  “Huh?!  A chicken in your room?”

Grandmother:  “Yep.  I had a chicken in my room.  It drove me crazy for two days.”

Uncle:  [eye roll]

Me:  “Well, where’s the chicken now?”

Grandmother: “Humph.  Well, finally, that girl came in one morning [that would be the 30-year-old nurse].  I told her that there was a chicken in my room that had kept me up all night and that she wasn’t leavin’ til she found it.  And then, I told her when she did find it, to bring it to me, cause I was gonna wring its neck!” 

Me: “Hmmm.”

Grandmother: “Turned out it was some durn sensor they put on me to know when I was a movin’ around.  Shoot.”

So the chickens of Marshall County are safe, folks.  And Grandmother is no longer wearing the chirping sensor, thank goodness.   

Curves and Angles January 15, 2007

How do put your finger on the moment that your child is no longer a baby?  As I was organizing photos this weekend, I came across mounds of pictures of the children that didn’t make the scrapbook cut the last time I dug out the paper and stickers and sharp things. 

As I was sifting through the photographs, I realized that I could finally pinpoint what made them kids and no longer babies.  It was that moment — whether it be a season, a month, a growth spurt — where I could no longer trace the lines of their chubby soft curves.  It was when their ankle bones appeared above feet that were once shaped like tiny little pork chops.  When Reid’s plump elbows lost their dimples and Caroline’s beautiful cheekbones emerged.

In photographs, this happened so suddenly, though I know it was really more gradual than it seems.  Somewhere between the ages of two and three, both of them lost their dimples, creases, curves.  These sweet symbols of babyhood were replaced with long legs, skinny arms, sharp angles.  Caroline already has little hip bones that jut out just below the indentation of her perfect little waist.  Just like his daddy, Reid’s slim frame has clearly defined sinewy little muscles courtesy of the hours he spends honing his monkey bar skills.

So they are growing up.

I just never thought it would be this bittersweet, and so obvious in hindsight, the geometry of raising a child. 

Grateful January 11, 2007

And all the planets aligned and the stars twinkled and I GOT IT, finally. 

Today has been a rough day, for a variety of reasons.  I have yet another kid sick with a temperature and possible ear infection.  Today at work, I was late to an important meeting because they changed the venue at the last minute and I missed the email (out with another sick kid yesterday).  But sometimes, God speaks to us — shouts to us even! — through those folks that step in and out of lives, sometimes very quietly. 

I love Wednesday nights at our church – it is relaxed and intimate and so REAL.  Not that Sundays aren’t, too, of course, but there’s something different about Wednesday nights.  Tonight, our pastor, Les, did a lesson on thankfulness and he referenced Ephesians 5:15-20(NIV):

“Be very careful, then, how you live — not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.  Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.  Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery.  Instead, be filled with the Spirit.  Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.  Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

He spoke about how life is so very short, and how we really need to seize every opportunity to express our joy in the Lord.  And then finally, he got to that “giving thanks” business.  I feel like sometimes I’m the last person on the planet to have a true heart of gratitude for all the blessings He has given me.  My perfectionist tendencies scream, “But it’s not perfect, it could be better, I could try harder, God could get on the stick, my husband could get with the plan…”  You get the picture.  That last verse made me stop and really, really give thanks. 

 And then, to further reinforce that voice saying, “Heather, c’mon, be thankful already!”, I came across this quote by one of my favorite authors and radio personalities, Garrison Keillor.  It’s a prayer of sorts:

“Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough.”

 So there.  I’m properly chastised now.  And immensely grateful tonight for all of it — the Motrin doses, Mount Laundry, the pile waiting on my desk if I make it to work tomorrow.  There really are blessings in the mundane and burdensome minutiae of life.  And sometimes you don’t even have to look very hard.

Bliss January 9, 2007

Caroline’s school called yesterday with the news that she was running a teensy-weensy fever (102.3, people, is not teensy-weensy!) and so I took her home at lunchtime.  She was still puny this morning so we decided to have another day of our very own mother-daughter slobfest, though honestly, dear God, there is only so much Wiggles and playing school and wiping snot that one grown woman can stand. 

Anywho, along about one o’clock I decide that Mama needed a nap and well, Caroline in her fussy cold/cough state could probably use one, too.  So we climbed beneath the big down comforter and settled into the mountains of pillows on the “big bed.”  She snuggled up next to me, lying flat on her back, then said, “No, Mama, we need to be closer.”  At this point, I can hardly see how we could get any closer since I can smell her Motrin-laced breath.  She rolls over on her side and spoons right on up to me, fitting perfectly in the curve of my belly.  “There,” she said, “like that.”  Then in a tiny voice, she asked, “And Mama, can you put your arm over me, too?”  As I wrapped her up close to me, resting my arm across her little body, she sighed, “Thanks.”  And just like a million times before, I thanked God for that moment and my precious baby girl who has grown up so quickly, and realized it really does go by way too fast.

HUH? January 8, 2007

Why must the bulleted lists (see post below) insist on not having even one little capital letter?  Hel-LO, Word Press, what’s up with that?

Catching Up January 8, 2007

Things Sort-Of-Accomplished This Weekend:

• Took Christmas trees down, finally!!!  God, the guilt over that, the self-abuse I have heaped on myself, having those stupid trees up in January.  Good grief.
• Moved Christmas bins (those Rubbermaid-y things) to garage where they shall sit until, oh, March, when I finally browbeat my darling husband into hauling them into the attic.
• Did every last stitch of Mount Laundry.  Actually, it was like the Laundry Cascades, pile after pile after pile stretched across the ole laundry room.  Does that completely lay bare my OC-ness when I am unabashedly basking in the immense pleasure of a laundry-less household?
• Slept, slept, slept (Is this the most boring blog entry ever, or what?).  I can’t remember the last time I felt rested though this Sunday got me pretty close.  It rained buckets all day and we stayed in our PJs the entire time doing arts and crafts and watching movies.  Go ahead, say it.  Aaawww.
• Cooked a kickin’ dinner for twelve honoring the four people in my family with birthdays this month.  Served up some yummy steaks with scrumptious crab crakes.  Whipped up the stand-by garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus with lemon butter sauce.  Had a pretty salad with mystery greens, feta, balsamic vinaigrette.  Served two (!!) sauces for the crab cakes — remoulade and a spicy creole mustard sauce.  Passed out party hats and noisemakers.  Ended the night with cake, coffee, and ice cream.  Fun was had by all.

And that’s it.  A weekend’s accomplishments.  I didn’t leave my house from Friday at 4pm until Monday at 7am.  It was wonderful, the hermit lifestyle, if only for a weekend.  How’d you pass the time, this first weekend in January?

Nephew January 5, 2007

Amory and I had forgotten how sweet it is to have a baby sleeping between us.  Nephew Grey, 8 months, is having his first sleepover tonight.  Precious.  Oh, and he snores.

Uncle. January 4, 2007

Have you ever had one of those days that makes you want to go home, get in your rattiest, most comfortable “soft pants” as my daughter calls them, and crawl under the covers?  Maybe also pull them way, way up to your chin, or even over your head?  And possibly load up on chocolate or at least a tall glass of chocolate milk? 

Well, today my number came up.  For the day from HELL.  Simultaneously, I had three members of my family in different hospitals, all at least 2 hours apart.  The worst was that one of those loved ones was my husband, who had a co-worker rush him to the hospital for what he thought was a heart attack at worst, a panic attack or high blood pressure incident at best.

Further complicating it all, I was across town, trying to open a brand-new school that was not at all ready to be inhabited by the 700 jubilant 5-8 year-olds that showed up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed early this morning.  The water was not working (no toilets, people!).  It was raining and the car rider canopy is still under construction.  There is mud everywhere.  The library is in boxes, the art teacher’s 58 boxes of supplies are missing, and the music teacher is on a cart.  Stressful, to say the least, for a district administrator, but I digress — back to my hospitalized-for-half-a-day husband.

He has been complaining of anxiety, depression, stomach issues, racing heart, and lightheadedness off and on for months.  His doctor put him on LexaPro, which we don’t feel really worked for him but he kept taking it and then last month, he had a panic attack/blood pressure incident that landed him in the doctor’s office in an emergency manner and his doc also prescribed blood pressure medication.  For a healthy 35-year-old male, that seemed a bit much to me.

But today really scared him, he thought he was dying, and I couldn’t get to him and had no idea how to help.  I am frustrated because I feel like most of his “symptoms” are psychosomatic and he really needs to see a therapist of some kind.  After bloodwork, constant monitoring, EKGs, the works, everything came back normal.  He has lost his three best friends in the last couple of years to deaths by natural causes (aneurysms, congestive heart failure).  I think his preoccupation stems from his grief over his very best friend Max’s sudden death in August of an aneurysm.  I know that Max has been on his mind a great deal lately.

I am irritated with the doctors who just throw prescriptions at him (4 so far!) to treat the symptoms rather than figuring out what the heck is wrong with him.  UGH.

And I feel like he needs me to be a sweet-talking, water-fetching, coddling-him nursemaid, which I am SO NOT by nature.  I am the type of person that worked until the day I gave birth with each of my kids, not taking sick days for even doctor’s appointments.  When I’m out-of-sorts, I take an Advil and move on.  I’ve been to my GP once in the last ten years, for strep throat.  When I felt like I was depressed and anxious, I asked my OB/GYN for an antidepressant, which worked miracles.  So all of this complaining and worrying and try-this-this-week medication is beyond my experience. 

But he cried and cried today, talking about how scary it was, and how he was going to make lifestyle changes to see if that helped.  He isn’t overweight at all but doesn’t currently do any type of cardio workout, so he’s beginning that.  He’s changing his diet and his approach to eating meals.  He’s cutting out alcohol and tobacco (smokeless). 

I pray all of this helps and our household can achieve some semblance of peace.  I stay on pins and needles worried about him and trying to hide it from the kids.  We fuss more than we ought to about the right course to take to “get him well.”  I just want to help but I know that the decisions ultimately have to be his.

On the other health fronts, I have two grandparents that are hospitalized with rapidly declining health which is very difficult for both of my parents.  We are having to make some tough decisions about long-term care for them and since they are both very cognizant of what is going on, that makes it even more difficult.  As my mom said, “There is so little dignity in growing old.”

So there you have it.  Uncle!  And advice really, really welcome.

Bedtime Blues January 3, 2007

Caroline is up for the fifth time.  I can’t seem to get across to her that it’s BEDTIME.  You have school tomorrow, sister.  You didn’t take a nap today.  Your daddy and I are serious, get in that bed right now.  It is 9:00, for crying out loud!  No, you cannot have another glass of water.  No,  you can’t watch me lay out my clothes and jewelry and makeup.  No, we cannot read one more book.  No, your big brother is not up.  GET IN THE BED.  The end.

Status Check January 2, 2007

Bible Reading — check. (From Navigation Press’s Read the Bible in a Year: Matthew 1:1-25, Acts 1:1-26, Psalms 1, Genesis 1-2)

Devotion time — uh, not so much. Way big  day at work today. 

Weight Loss — um, NO.

Discipline improvement — check — kids were easy today for some reason — does that count?

Money — check — didn’t spend any.

Household improvement — UGH.  (Christmas tree still up.)

Project Better Me — Skin moisturized, teeth brushed, hair semi-fixed.  Applied mascara today.  Got lots of compliments on straightened hair from library colleagues — WOOT!  Way to go, muy expensive flat iron!

Friends — Time, people, I need more time in day!

Blog entry — check.  (This feels like cheating.)

Exercise — good grief, I have got to get motivated.  Come on, Internet, motivate please!

So how are your resolutions going?