I've been waiting for this

A co-worker had us laughing with a story about her 4 year old asking was E.D. is. You know...from the Viagra commercials? At the time, I had wondered why my kids had never asked.

It finally happened. And I was ready.

The Captain, while watching tv yesterday: "Mom, what is an erection?"

Me: "Postman! Come in here, the Captain has a question for you!"

I am nothing if not prepared.

Sex is God's joke on human beings. ~Bette Davis

Catching up

Well, as I think I mentioned in my last brief post, the Postman's father is home. Too much happened to try to recap it all here but here are some high (or low) lights:

- Spent 4 days in ICU
- Spent 6 days in Respiratory SCU
- Spent 2 days in a regular room on the respiratory floor
- Doctors don't know what was wrong. They gave him a broad spectrum antibiotic that seemed to be working. He felt better and the congestion in his lungs was breaking up.
- Right before they moved him to the regular room they said although he FELT better, he wasn't GETTING better. Um, what? Based on CT scan comparisons and bronchoscopy comparisons, there was no actual change in his lungs.
- 2 days later they sent him home - not knowing what was causing the breathing difficulty (beyond his already known COPD), and after stating he wasn't getting better.

So that's kind of where we are. He's home, and although he feels better, he has to follow up with a respiratory specialist closer to home to try and track this and at least keep him status quo if not improved.

On a happier note, the Diva competed in a Dressage competition today and placed 2nd in one category and 3rd in the other category she was in. This was the first time she competed in Dressage, so it was quite an accomplishment!

I am looking forward to a quieter week - no driving 90 miles to the hospital. I can catch up on my work, my housework, and time with the Postman and the kids.

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend!

The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit, and fire. ~Sharon Ralls Lemon

Hi! Here I am!

It's been a long couple of weeks.

P-Man's dad just came home from the hospital yesterday afternoon. Everyone is exhausted, but relieved he is home.

More on everything later this weekend, hopefully!

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. ~Jane Austen

These five words in my head...

Scream, are we having fun yet?*

I am exhausted. Worked in the office and drove home in bad weather.

No real update on P-Man's father. They started a broad spectrum antibiotic yesterday and he seems to be doing better today so that is really good news. They may move his care down a level in the next 24 hours. He would be out of ICU, in a private room, with his own dedicated nurse still. One thing that bothers me is that they still don't know what they are treating. The antibiotic seems like it might be working - but working on WHAT? How do they know they treated it completely? How do they know for sure it's gone? How do they know he won't relapse? I hate the unknown. As thankful as I am that he's feeling better, I am still asking for answers.

This has all just really wiped me out. I had a mini meltdown last night, complete with tears, mostly because I am tired. I am trying so hard to keep everything flowing smoothly - keeping our house running as normally as possible, doing my part to take care of P-Man's mom, and keeping things on an even keel for him.

I am counting down the minutes to 9:00 so I can tuck the kids in and then head to bed myself!

Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

*Thanks, Nickelback!

I am SO not as cool as I thought as was

How is it that the Postman's mother - and even worse, my mother! - are hipper than I am?

My daughter and I watch Dancing With the Stars. I know it's a bit on the cheesy side, so I refer to it as one of my guilty pleasures. On the other hand, it is nice to be interested in the same show as my daughter. I can only take so much of Hannah Montana before my brain seizes up. So this dancing show we watch together. My mother, and P's mom watch it also.

Yesterday, during our 90 mile (one way) car ride, P's mom and I were talking about the show as the new season started last night. She was the first to tell me that Julianne, an adorable dancer on the show (and my favorite!), has released a song with a whole album to follow soon. How did I not know this? I proclaim to be a huge music lover, yet this little tidbit escaped me.

To make matters worse...I spoke with my mother last night and she gave me the same information. Um, what? My mother doesn't even listen to music all that much. How on earth did she know this before I did? I am such a loser.

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. ~Japanese Proverb

And I just really can't think of a title right now...

I missed St. Paddy's Day. It really blew right by and I didn't even realize it until last night when my son told me the Leprechauns were due to visit. Yeah...a few years back, I had the BRILLIANT idea to have the Leprechauns bring them some token trinkets. We're not even Irish, so I don't know what the hell I was thinking and now I have to come up with some trinkets at 9:00PM. Luckily I had a few things stashed away for the Easter Baskets, so I used those.


The reason I am so scatter brained is because the Postman's father is in the hospital again. After being home for roughly 48 hours, we went screaming back on Sunday morning because his oxygen had dropped so low. The decision was made to transfer him to a much bigger (and thus better?) medical facility about 90 miles from here. He went Sunday night by ambulance (sirens and everything!). Each of us kids is now taking a day and driving his mom to that facility. My day was yesterday, so in all the hubbub I just forgot about the green holiday.

It's very frustrating, this medical situation. So far they can tell us what is NOT wrong. 90% chance it is not cancer. It is not pneumonia. It is not a blood clot. Dude can't breathe though. Literally...sitting up to eat dropped his oxygen so much and he got so exhausted from just the effort of bringing the food to his mouth and chewing that they took away the solids and started making him milkshakes with protein powder in them for extra calories. Was that a run on sentence right there? He is in ICU, so he is obviously being monitored very well. That is reassuring for the Postman's mom...and the rest of us, too.

Hopefully we'll get some more news soon.

Caring is the essence of nursing. ~Jean Watson

Saving on electricity

At dinner tonight, the Postman noticed the Diva's bedroom light was on. We are trying to instill a "turn off all things unnecessary" rule in our house but it is definitely an uphill battle for us. The Diva will head to her bathroom from the living room...and turn on the kitchen light as she passes through...then the hallway light...then her bedroom light...and finally the actual bathroom light. Yes, she will turn on all those lights just to pass through those areas.

So when he noticed the light on, he asked her to get up and go turn it off. I asked if her brother's light was also on (since she was already up), and at that my son's friend, Mas, says "No, I turned it off when we left his room. At our house, we turn off all the lights when we leave a room."

Me: "How on earth did your mom and step-dad accomplish that?"

Mas: "Hmmm...well, they beat us."

Postman: "Sweet. We can do that."

I expect our electric bill will be SIGNIFICANTLY lower next month.

Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light? ~Maurice Freehill

The one where I had a whole afternoon to myself!

The Diva has been at the barn since 8:30 this morning, the Postman worked, and the Captain has a friend over.

Do you all know what this means? Barring the occasional chore (like switching the laundry over, or stirring the meatball sauce), I have been doing nothing but surfing blogs this afternoon. ALL afternoon.

And I found some cool stuff! Like that nifty Tax Relief Swap button over there at the top right of the page. I think I linked there from here but I am not sure. Like I said, ALL afternoon. Many links. Many blogs.

Anyway, give it a click! It seems like a lot of fun. More than the anticipation of receiving something in the mail, I LOVE the idea of coming up with a little care package to send off!

Happy Saturday!

Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson

My biggest problem today

Yeah. So.

I got my hair cut. Like 3 inches or so...not a huge difference. But still. This morning my hair was below my shoulders, and now it is swinging just above my shoulders. Not drastic, but noticeable, dammit!

Unless you live in my house.

I bet if dinner didn't make it on the table they'd notice THAT.

Or if laundry didn't get done for 3 or 4 days - THAT would be noticed.

Or if I didn't have cash in my wallet. THAT would definitely be noticed.

Jackasses. All of 'em.

How can I control my life when I can't control my hair? ~Author Unknown

School rules

So the Diva cam home from school early yesterday with a headache and a tummy ache. She actually gets quite a few headaches for a 12 year old and we're working on figuring out why.

Our school has a rule prohibiting drugs of any kind. That includes Ty*lenol and Ibuprofen. If a child needs Ty*lenol or Ibuprofen or even their inhaler, they must call their parents/guardian to come administer the stuff. I found out there's a way around this, which is nice for children with chronic conditions or those that must take medication during the day (Rit*alin, for example). Their parent/guardian fills out paperwork describing the specifics of the medication, purpose, dose, etc. The school nurse then faxes this info to the child's doctor and IF THE DOCTOR SAYS IT'S OK, the nurse keeps the medication in her office and the child goes to her to have their medication administered. So, if I want my daughter to have an Ibuprofen, without me delivering it to her, that's the route I have to take.

Seems like a bit much for an Ad*vil, no?

Usually the Diva calls me and I dutifully deliver the Ibuprofen to her. She knows about trying to self soothe before leaping for the drugs...hydrate, rest (if possible), quiet (if possible). At school it can be hard to accomplish this so more often than not, I will bring her an ibuprofen.

As I may have mentioned, I work from home for a hospital that's about 2 hours away. I used to drive there two to three times per month, but that has substantially decreased lately. Because I could not bring her medication if she needed it on those days, I gave her a tiny pill bottle to put in her book bag with TWO otc strength ibuprofen in it, just in case she needed it. When I did this, I knew I was making a mistake. No, not that I was giving it to her...but that the pill bottle I chose to use was a little Ty*lenol bottle. With ibuprofen in it. In my defense, I figured it was better than an apothecary style medicine bottle with NO label on it. Doesn't matter now...turns out the Diva would have gotten in trouble either way.

When she called me to tell me she didn't feel well, she was near tears. It turns out, for whatever reason, instead of calling me yesterday she decided to take one of the ibuprofen that she had in her bag. When she didn't feel better after an hour, she decided she wanted to come home. She went to the office to call me and they instructed her that she needed to see the nurse before she could call home. While with the nurse, it came up that the Diva had already taken an ibuprofen. It seems that having contraband ibuprofen is on the same level as having a dime bag. The nurse went up one side of my daughter and down the other, and there was even mention of the fact that my daughter could be suspended for this infraction.

WTF???

I haven't yet decided how I'm going to handle this. I understand rules are rules. But seriously, does anyone else think the nurse went just a little too far with this? I really would appreciate feedback on this one folks, because I am stuck somewhere between understanding policy and indignation at how my child was treated.

I don't know. I never smoked AstroTurf. ~Tug McGraw, when asked if he preferred grass or artificial turf, 1974

Ike Turner shops at Sam's and other stories

The other day was our bi-weekly Sam's excursion. While we were waiting our turn to check out, we (and everyone else within 3 lanes of us) witnessed the guy in the next lane over from us picking up a bag of Ghiradelli chocolate chips from his cart and yelling at his wife "What the hell is this?!". She mumbled something that apparently was halfway acceptable and he threw the bag on the conveyor belt. He kept muttering, though, and his wife and two children (yeah...not bad enough he treats her like that at all...but in front of their children and in public. He's a prize.)walked away toward the exit to wait for him there I guess. He then asked the cashier how much they were, and although I didn't hear her answer he says to her "Jesus Christ - I'm paying that much for her ass to get even fatter?". I told the Postman if he EVER talked to me or about me that way I'd be gone so quick he wouldn't even see my dust. Jackass. Why, why, why do people stay in relationships like that? It's sad.

Shifting gears: The Diva had an orthodontist appointment this past week. She's already had one round of orthodontia, now we're looking at about 2 more years. On the window sill of the room we were in, there were several models of braces that are available. The technician picked up the invisible ones (the kind worn on the inside of the teeth) and said "Miley Cyrus wears these - they are the Cadillac of braces." The Postman said I should have asked her to show us the Yugo model next since that was most likely the one we would go with. He always comes up with the good responses.

Shift again: The Captain has developed a new talent. He can imitate people. Well, cartoon characters and one human. But still...impressive for 9! The best part is he does them really, really well. It's kind of cool.

Shift: One of the fundrasiers for the Diva's class trip was tonight - a spaghetti supper. I've been dreading it all week. An evening with the Stepfords. I even dreamed about it last night. I dreamed all the Stepfords showed up in pink ballgowns and tiaras. I was pissed off at first that I didn't know that was expected...then I realized it was fine because the patrons would easily be able to tell the normal people from the Stepfords - as though it wasn't already painfully obvious. Thank goddess my friend J and her daughter were on set up duty with me and the Diva! We kept each other grounded.

Lastly, and most importantly: The Postman's father is back in the hospital. They are doing a lung biopsy tomorrow. One doctor thinks, based on a CT scan, that it is lung cancer. The other doctor involved thinks it is just an infection or bacteria. In addition to the biopsy, they are going to scrape some mucus out (I know - gross!) to culture so they can definitively say it is one or the other. Please do whatever you do (pray, good thoughts, positive energy sent our way, etc.) tomorrow for us. I, and our family, would appreciate it!

Bad is never good until worse happens. ~Danish Proverb

From away

Mainers have this quirky little way about them. They distrust nearly everyone, especially if you are From Away.

From Away means exactly what you think it would. You are not from here. Being that Maine's motto is Vacationland, we have more than a few visitors and tourists roaming our beaches and snow mobile trails each year. From Away is used to describe them.

However, it has also come to be a label for anyone who moves into a town from anywhere else. I, for example, have lived in Maine since I was two years old. Although I did move away for about three months in my early twenties, the rest of my life has been here. I have lived in a few towns on the southern coast, and kept the same circle of friends and the same job regardless of the town I lived in. Perhaps that's why being From Away never seemed to pertain to me. Oh, I had heard about it, and read about it, and maybe even thought it myself as I weaved around twenty out of state plates on my way to work each morning, but I never really experienced it first hand.

This last move I made was the farthest I have ever moved, and the first move I made with both kids in school. We moved form the southern coast to the central farm part of the state. In our former community, I was semi-involved in their schools - volunteering for field trips and providing snacks for parties. I was able to attend most special events, but working a 40 hour office job didn't allow for much more than that. I wanted to do more but couldn't.

With this move came the opportunity to work from home and a decrease in hours. I am able to contribute more in my children's classrooms, and I am able to help out with various fund raising projects that I couldn't before.

As I have written about here, I am part of a committee responsible for planning a 6th grade end of year trip. Our group has gone from an original 11 members, to a die hard 4 or 5. I am not surprised at all with the diminishing numbers, that tends to happen in every group. What I am surprised about is how the 4 other members (none of whom are From Away), make it perfectly clear that I am not an accepted part of the group. Regardless of how many ideas I bring to the table, how much I say "I'll do it", or how much I help. I've come to realize though, that this happens in almost every group setting. Whoever doesn't fall into what is accepted as the norm of the group is marked as an outsider.

Mainers have just labeled it - but not correctly. I mean, really, how many people are raised and live in the same town their whole lives? So nearly everyone is potentially From Away. But it's easier and more acceptable to say that a person isn't trusted because they are From Away (we don't know them yet) rather than because they are loud, or fat, or gay, or single, or another race. So groups such as the committee I'm involved with struggle along with only a handful of members because for a lot of people, it is not worth the hassle of remaining just to be made to feel inferior.

It took being "From Away" for me to realize that it has nothing to do with that at all.

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill

Quiet time

The Postman's dad is in the hospital. He has COPD, and a normal cold that you or I can easily fight off can wreak havoc with his breathing. He's on some heavy duty IV antibiotics and should be home Sunday or Monday.

I went to visit him today, and we had a very nice time together. I honestly don't think I've ever sat and talked just with him for any significant amount of time. I stayed for about an hour and we talked about different jobs he's had, some memories of the Postman when he was small, he pointed out different things we could see from his hospital room window. He told me about his doctor, and why he's considering changing primary care physicians. Small talk, really...but at the same time it was nice. There were no awkward silences or weird pauses, and unfortunate as it was that it had to take place in a hospital room, I am glad I had the opportunity to have that time with him.

We can do no great things, only small things with great love. ~Mother Teresa

Quickie

No, not that kind.

School vacation, snow days, and a child not feeling well have not left me enough time to keep up here - obviously!

Hopefully I'll be back soon!

For disappearing acts, it's hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work. ~Doug Larson

Shopaholic

No, not me. The Postman.

I used to think I liked to shop. It turns out I don't.

The Postman is that unusual male who really likes shopping. He likes to walk through stores, just browsing and looking at the merchandise. When we go to Sam's Club or the grocery store together, he strolls up and down every single aisle. Me, I like to be in and out as quickly as possible. Get what I need and get out. So this has been somewhat of a compromise in our relationship. I try to only grocery shop during the week when he is at work, and he's caught on to that little trick. However, Sam's is about 1/2 an hour away and we usually go every other week after we've dropped the kids off with their dad. So in exchange for going to the grocery store without him, I endure aisle after aisle at Sam's. That's the compromise.

He also researches every major purchase he makes. In Consumer Reports. Online. In the stores. Talking with friends/coworkers/his brother. Sometimes (and he knows this), it makes me want to take away all his access to the outside world and scream "Just buy it already!"

This is how I spent a good part of last weekend:

Saturday: Bi-weekly trip to Sam's. Today is the day. He's going to buy the TV of his dreams. Except they don't have one in stock. So we walk around and around and around the TVs. As if one will magically appear. Finally, he's done looking/sulking, and we go on with our shopping (actual items we NEED). When our cart is full, we head toward the check out. Except...what's this?...He's headed BACK over to the TVs. What the...? And around he goes. Looking at all of them again. At this point I tell him I am going to go stand on line at the registers. He starts sulking more and follows me over. I tell him he is welcome to keep looking while I check out, but I really don't think it is going to appear. Now he starts POUTING, and says he was looking at other ones instead. AFTER he has researched THIS ONE incessantly and has decided it is the best one for us. Please tell me we are not going to start the process all over again just because they don't have the tv today. They WILL have them, he just needs patience. It's already been a several month process for god's sake, what's another week or two?

When we get home, he gets online. I wasn't sure what he was doing until he asked if I would go with him to the OTHER Sam's Club (about an hour away) on Sunday - because they have them in stock! I said I would but he'd have to feed me first.

Sunday: We get up and hit the road fairly early. After a stop for breakfast, we arrive at Sam's. He spots the tv he wants immediately, we load it on to a cart, and head for the checkout. This is a new record! I am more than thrilled! Until we get to the checkout. P-Man whips out the debit card and runs it through the machine. It rejects. There is a daily limit on how much you can use your debit card for. Duh. Although we knew that, it didn't even occur to us. But that's ok he says to the clerk, just run it through as a credit card. Except that Sam's doesn't take Visa credit cards. Um, what?

I seriously thought he might cry now. So we head out to the car to brainstorm. I count my cash, he counts his cash. I know what our limits are on ATM withdrawals, and I'm adding it all together trying to avoid what I know his suggestion will be. It's not even close. There's no way to scrape it all together. We drive home ( an hour) to get the checkbook and drive back to Sam's (another freakin' hour - because we need to have this tv NOW!). So much for getting up early so as to not waste the whole day on this little adventure. Heh.

But he is so happy with his new tv. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "Honey, c'mere...look at this!" (Although between you and me...I don't really see all that much of a difference....). And I realize that really, in the whole scheme of things, if that's all I have to complain about, then I'm a very lucky woman.

I can't complain, but sometimes I still do. ~Joe Walsh

Can you hear me now?

The Postman helped me set up my new Bluetooth headset for my cell phone yesterday. (Let's be clear - I could have done it...the box came from UPS and I set it on my desk because I had too much going on and just didn't feel like opneing it and dealing with ir right then. But, there was a NEW ELECTRONIC TOY in the house and he couldn't help himself....)

Here is our conversation:

Him: I got it all set up. Let's try it out. (He calls my cell as I tuck the thing behind my ear)
Him: Can you hear me? (after I answer the phone but don't say anything)
Me: You're standing two feet away from me.
Him: (HUGE eyeroll as he walks through the house away from me) Can you hear me now? (he asks from our bathroom.)
Me: Yup. Thanks. (click the phone off)

Um, seriously? Why did I get the eyeroll? I'm not the moron that called from two feet away.

So, ironically....Happy Valentine's Day!

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Gratefulness

I've been kinda in my mid-winter funk lately so I decided to write a few things I'm thankful for to remind myself that it ain't all so bad. Here we go!

1. My kids
2. The Postman
3. Hot coffee
4. Spaceheaters
5. Tax returns
6. Fleece socks and blankets (anyone see a trend? It's cold here today!)
7. Vaseline Intensive Care Cocoa Butter Oil Gel
8. Yummy smelling shower gel
9. Washers and dryers
10. Crockpots
11. My friend Jen who "prettifies" me
12. Heart Shaped frosted sugar cookies
13. The library
14. Allergy medication
15. Someone that plows our driveway for us
16. Being able to work from home
17. iPods
18. Freedom
19. Sunny days (even if they are COLD!)
20. Swiffer vacuums

Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~Jean Baptiste Massieu, translated from French

Pieces of me

Marie Tasy, executive director of New Jersey Right to Life, said she and a coalition of other opponents would continue to fight the legislation. "This is not a compassionate choice at all."

Good afternoon,

I ran across this quote on nj.com this morning while I was searching for articles regarding opening records for New Jersey adoptees.

I am writing to ask for some clarification. What exactly is not "a compassionate choice at all"? The choice of allowing adoptees the right to know their heritage and medical history? I find it amazing that an organization, such as yours, can make broad based conclusions such as that. Your mission, dedication to protecting and fostering human life, apparently ends with birth.

I am a 38 year old woman who was adopted in New Jersey in 1969. Over the last 38 years of my life, I have been fortunate enough to be relatively healthy. I get migraines, I have difficult monthly cycles, I am very near sighted. I also have a thyroid condition. All of these issues are easily managed with the help of physicians, medications, and contact lenses. They are not life threatening nor earth shattering illnesses.

In 1998, my son was born with a thyroid condition more serious than my own. His father and I spent several anxious weeks with specialists, watching our tiny newborn son go through blood draw after blood draw to figure out what was wrong with him. I was urged time and time again to find out my medical history - the doctors were sure with my history of thyroid illness that something genetic was occurring. Eventually, his condition was diagnosed, even without a medical history. We were lucky.

What right do you have to tell me I can't know my medical history? What right do you have to tell my children they can't know their medical history? Organizations struggled so hard to bring me into this world (RIGHT TO LIFE! ABORTION IS MURDER!), handed me an "amended" birth certificate, and now say "Sorry, you can't know any of your history".

The bill presented in the New Jersey legislature has conditions that allow for birth mothers to retain their anonymity. Yes, they will have to provide a medical history in lieu of an original birth certificate being issued. Is that really so much to ask? I for one, (along with many others, I am sure), would be happy just to have that piece of history. I would like to know what I might face, medically, in the future. I also want my children to have access to that same information.

I know you are worried about the birth mothers who bore children out of violent circumstances then gave them up for adoption. They want to forget that period of their life. I would be interested to know what the exact percentage is of children adopted under those conditions. Because, truly, being born in 1969...after the 1968 Summer of Love, Woodstock, and thousands of young men being shipped off to Vietnam, I doubt I, or too many others, were born of violent circumstance. Maybe those birth mothers regret that time in their life, but that does not mean I should be denied my rights now.

I have a right to life. Just no rights beyond that.

Sincerely,

NJ adoptee, 1969

My friends rock

I am not good at keeping in touch. I want to be better at it, and I have no excuse for not being better at it but the fact still remains that I'm not good at communicationg with friends. Yet, when I need them , for whatever reason, there they are. This is the text that went on the other day with a friend I haven't spoken to in probably 10 months.

Me: Hey...did we ever eat @ Kelly's diner in Somerville with Tamara? Weird ? I know - humor me.

Her: Um...likely, yes. I think you mean Tamarleigh.

Yeah...so I got her friends name wrong, but the point is that at 11:00PM when I absolutely had to know if we ate at that particular diner (that's the OCD shining through), she answered like we had just gotten off the phone a few minutes before. It's nice to have friends like that...friends that understand and accept.

You can always tell a real friend: when you've made a fool of yourself he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job. ~Laurence J. Peter

Frosty Eyes

Hockey has begun again.

The Captain came off the ice tonight and his eyes were damp - probably from watering because it was so cold. His eyelashes had frost on them. As his eyes watered, it froze on his eyelashes.

Someday, when he's choosing my nursing home, I hope he looks back on his youth and remembers that his mom (who abhors the cold), stood out there every Tuesday and Thursday night supporting him. In the cold. It better be a really nice nursing home.

Don't go through life without goals. ~Hockey Saying