the life of a mother with youth
Thursday, September 30, 2004
my heart stopped today...
The following post is extremely emotional, involves very personal information and features a little more graphic language than you, dear reader, are accustomed to. Those with weak hearts, stomachs or tender-eared beings should not read this post.
This morning went smoothly, Isaac went to school feeling great about his self and his health. Nicholas and I cleaned the house and gathered laundry to wash tomorrow. About noon, we laid down cuddled together, under his new quilt, and slept peacefully until the alarm sounded at 2:00 PM. Nicholas remained asleep and I got up to wake up a little before the bus came, bringing Isaac home at 2:30 PM. When Isaac got here, he ate as he watched television. The programming on Isaac's televisions are educational channels only. He was learning about snakes and commenting on how gross they looked. Shortly after, we all sat down together on Isaac's couch and read a book and hung out, like we usually do after school. At 4:30 PM, a shit pain came over my body. I locked the doors on the front of the house as well as the basement door and put Nicholas in his walker. I turned on the television and left them to go 10 foot away to the bathroom.
I heard Isaac shaking the door that goes to the basement. Tim installed a hook and eye lock
to the top of the basement door when we moved in the house, as recommended by child safety experts
. As soon as I heard him pulling on the door, I yelled at him and told him to stop, that as soon as I got finished, I would open the door for him. The noise stopped. 1 minute later and just as I was wiping my ass, I heard something going down the basement steps. I hurried because Nicholas was in his walker, assuming that Isaac was the noise I heard going down the stairs, and I didn't want him to have the opportunity to go down the steps his self in the walker. I rounded the corner leading to the basement door when Nicholas started screaming from the bottom of the steps. I swear I didn't even touch a step on the way down. Nicholas was laying on the floor on his stomach and the walker was a good foot away from his body, upside down. I freaked out. I carefully got Nicholas up, as to not further damage anything that was already damaged, and began loving on him as I instructed Isaac, who was on the riding lawn mower, to get upstairs now. Isaac didn't resist and did as he was told, telling me all of the way up the 20 stairs that he was sorry that he left the door open. I tried calling the doctor's office immediately but Nicholas was screaming so that I couldn't even hear the voice prompts of the automated voice system. I hung up and called Mom. She couldn't hear what I was saying for Nicholas's shrieks so she hung up and came over instantly.
My car is in the shop. It began overheating before Tim went to work and it has been in the shop every since. I have no transportation at all, with the exception of my mother.
While I waited for Mom to get here, I walked, patted, 'shhh'ed, rocked and tried my best from getting upset, for Nicholas's sake. He usually likes the outdoors, so I told Isaac to put his shoes on and we went into the front yard. I kept an eagle eye on Isaac as I pointed out the sky, birds, clouds and passing cars to Nicholas. Eventually, he calmed down to the point that he wasn't screaming constantly. He let out a yelp every so often but there were breaks in between them. I could handle this.
A span of 10 minutes passed before Mom got here. I was an emotional wreck as she pulled into the driveway. The car wasn't even in park before she jumped out demanding to know what happened. You would have to meet my Mom but she is probably like your Mom, loud; over protective at times and in charge of everything. Those happen to by my favorite traits by the way. I gave her a briefing and passed Nicholas to her to keep her from going into an emotional shock. I ran back inside of the house to call the doctor's office:
"Good Afternoon, this is S, how can I help you?"
"This is April, my son Nicholas, 5 months old, just fell down a flight of stairs in his walker and I need to know if I can bring him in or if I need to go to the emergency room."
"Um, hold on and I'll transfer you to triage."
*transferred to a voicemail*
*I hang up, completely appalled and dialed again*
"Good Afternoon, this is S, how can I help you?"
"This is April, you stupid fucking bitch, my son is 5 months old and just fell down a fucking FLIGHT of stairs, not one or two stairs but twenty. I don't have time to talk to your ignorant ass or a fucking voice mail, I need to the speak with Dr. D NOW. Do you think you can handle that?"
"April, this is S, Dr. D says for you to bring him in as soon as you can get here."
*I hung up*
We piled in Mom's car and drove straight to the doctor's office. As soon as I got into the lobby, I went to the window to check in. The glass was closed and the chicks behind that glass were bullshitting about something that was not important. I tapped on the glass. The chick sitting closest to the window held her index finger up, signaling me to wait a minute.
"Fuck you bitch, do your job and quit gossiping."
I immediately turned around and went into the door that leads to the patient rooms. Several people tried to stop me but after they saw my face and the expression it had on it, no one dared. I went straight to Dr. D's desk, she looked up from her papers and stood up quickly, she showed me into and room and told me that as soon as she washed her hands, she would be in. She was. She looked him over, checking his arms and legs, fingers and toes, then finally in his ear. She told me that if it were a concussion, blood would be in his ears. There was no blood but to be on the safe side, she wanted me to go to the emergency room to have a CT Scan and X-Rays done. She called ahead as I went out of the door of the office building on my way to the hospital.
Mom and the boys, Austin and Isaac, sat in the car waiting for me. Mom can control them better, together, while they are in seat belts. It was a good thing too because we had no time to waste. The hospital is 5 minutes away from the doctor's office but it seemed like an hour.
She drove up where the ambulances go in, Nicholas and I got out of the car and went straight in. No paperwork was filed and we were shipped instantly into a room. It so happened to be the same room that Audrey was put in as the staff tried to revive her. It was the same bed. I couldn't touch it and stayed near the door, refusing to place Nicholas in the exact same bed that Audrey was declared dead on. It was there that I began to pray. I do not pray. I have religion and believe but do not partake in the social bullshit that is expected when you are religious. I do not attend church and haven't for years but I prayed. I prayed to God that if Nicholas were alright, I would go to church and its events, every one of them from now on.
We waited for 2 minutes before the ER doctor came in. He gave the same brief exam that Dr. D did and instructed me to follow him to the CT Scan room. Two nurses stood, waiting on us, to strap Nicholas into a papoose to hold his little body still while the internal pictures were being taken. The nurses left and entered the adjoining room that had a window to see into the room that we were in. We communicated through an intercom system. Nicholas was really upset, still, even before the papoose, but was straight up pissed off that now he was fully restrained.
"April, do you have a pacifier for Nicholas?"
"I am going to send a nurse up to the second floor to get him one, okay?"
"No need, he won't take it."
"Do you happen to have a bottle?"
"No, he is breastfed."
*the doctor walks into the room with the two nurses*
"Doctor, April isn't cooperating with us, she refuses Nicholas to have a pacifier and she didn't think to bring a bottle."
*she forgot to turn off the intercom"
"Excuse me you stupid bitch. I am a mother, with an infant child and no diaper bag. If that isn't plain enough, I've told you twice now that he is breastfed. He will not take a pacifier and even if he would, it would confuse him when he takes the breast the next time. If you can't do your job, move aside and call someone that can but please quit making excuses as to why you are dragging your ass while my son is strapped onto a board screaming - where it so happens that I can not comfort him."
*intercom is turned off*
It took about 10 minutes for the doctor to get the pictures that he needed. He sent the nurse away and told her not to let me see her, ever. Nicholas was still strapped in the papoose as he was moved to X-Ray, a couple of doors down. He was laid on the table and the lab technician hurried to get the x-rays. A total of 20 minutes in the papoose, Nicholas was coming out one way or another. He allowed the x-rays to be taken but as soon as the technician said, "that's it, we got them," Nicholas removed his legs from that papoose and was struggling to get his arms out. I stepped up the same time that the technician did and we quickly removed Nicholas from the papoose. He, immediately, quieted down and found himself content on my breast, sucking happily.
I was instructed to sit in a chair in the hallway while the pictures from the scan and x-ray were reviewed. A man who passed me in the hall stopped, turned around and looked at me.
"Hi, remember me? Think 10 years ago and a lot more hair on my head."
"Kevin?" I was completely stunned. I went to school with this guy in MIDDLE SCHOOL for about 1 year (remember I was quiet) and he remembered me.
"You got it. What are you doing here?"
"Lost story but I'm waiting for the slow ass scan/x-ray reader to look at my scans to tell me if my child is okay."
"Sorry about that, I am that slow ass. Give me enough time to look them over thoroughly. Had I known it was you, I would have ran after receiving the page."
I was really flattered, NOT, I am a concerned mother, not a school girl interested in a balding geek! Surely he can pick better times to hit on someone. About 10 minutes later, Kevin came out of his office and told me that he was finished and the ER doctor was on his way, for Nicholas and me to come in and get cozy.
"You have a beautiful baby, looks just like you."
"Wow, would you look at those eyes, gorgeous, just like yours."
"Listen Kevin, any other time I would probably be flattered at your comments, however, at this moment in time, I am very concerned about my child. I think it is important for you to also know that I have my own balding husband and there is not room in our lives for another, short of our children. Can we please just cut the bullshit?"
"Whoa, you haven't changed."
"I don't mean to be rude but the only reason I am talking to you at all is because you are the only one that can tell me what, if anything, is wrong with Nicholas. So why don't you just tell me right now."
*ER doctor enters*
"Because he is waiting on me, which he isn't anymore, so give it to us - how's the tot?"
"I have reviewed the CT Scans as well as the x-rays and I have found no fractures, breaks, chips or calcium deposits on any of his bones. Further more, his CT Scan reveals no signs of internal bleeding, irregular brain activity or infected areas. To insure accuracy, I've sent the documents to a colleague who will report anything to me. I will call you either way with the results from his evaluation. However, Nicholas does have the beginning stages of a sinus infection."
"Good deal, come on April."
"Oh, its my job April. The ironic part is that I had to wait 13 years and your child take a serious fall for me to finally get your number."
"Ha, call me for any other reason but the results from your colleague and I will put a restraining order on you for harassment, as well as sue you for improper use of medical records and breech of patient/doctor relationship."
We were put back in the room to await more results when Erica came waltzing in. She came with two drinks, one of which I immediately grabbed. I was so thirsty. Apparently, mom called her and requested that she come to help with the boys but Erica could not find her in the parking lots and decided to track me down first. One of the drinks were for Mom. Erica took Nicholas from me and ask me to find Mom and take her the drink. I ran, literally, outside and straight to Mom, handed her the drink and told her that Erica was with Nicholas. She told me that Tim called and was very upset that I didn't call him. Tim is a thousand miles away, maneuvering an 18-wheeler through Las Vegas traffic during peak time. Why would I call him before I could tell him what, if anything, was wrong with Nicholas? I rolled my eyes at Mom and called Tim, updating him on what I knew thus far and explaining what happened. In between breaths, I sucked a cigarette down. When I got off of the phone, I told Mom that Erica would be out to relieve her as soon as I returned and I ran back into Nicholas. I was only gone for 5 minutes but he screamed the entire time. Once he was in my arms, he quieted down and I was able to tell Erica where Mom was, she left and Mom came into the room. We took turns holding him, mostly to comfort ourselves. I still refused to lay him on the bed. Shortly after, the doctor returned and said that everything was fine, give him tylenol for pain every 4 hours and start the already prescribed Zythromax but most importantly not to let Nicholas be in walker without my full attention on him.
Nicholas is fine, a little banged up with several bruises and knots but nothing internally wrong and no open wounds. It was too late tonight but first thing in the morning, after Isaac and Austin are off to school, I will be visiting the neighborhood hardware store for an automatic locking, key required to open, lock for the basement door, as well as any other safety device required to ensure that my kids won't get hurt while I take a shit. We will be the first in church on Sunday, as I will keep my promise to God since he kept his to me.
~~not feeling plucky at all, lucky fits though.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Nicholas's Quilt - my very first
Introducing my best friend Misty...
Due to my earlier post, I feel it necessary to explain Misty...
My parents moved us to Mount Airy, North Carolina, in February of 1992. It was cold and snowing and very different from where we came from, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. In Myrtle Beach, the sun ALWAYS shines and it is almost always over 60 degrees. I hated Mount Airy and North Carolina. I wanted nothing more than to get away from such a redneckville filled with toothless, illiterate, weird talking people.
My first day at my new school was a disaster. I hadn't yet mastered the art of my attitude that so nicely compliments my personality. I was confusing to people because I spoke proper and dressed as if I were a business woman going to work. I was labeled outcast as soon as I walked through the doors of my new school. The looks were, well, horrible. The next couple of days was not much better. I hadn't smiled in days and everyone could tell, at home and school, that I was not a happy camper. I remember one of the "popular" girls commenting on me, "She looks like she could kill you with her eyes, she is definitely not getting in our group." At hearing this my comment was, "fuck you sweetheart, I wouldn't place myself in your group for all of the money that you daddy makes selling your mother." My statement was enough to keep any prospect friends away. Numerous rumors scattered and I was miserable but found it amusing that no one would so much ask me where I was from or even look at me once I found them doing so. I got the most looking in band. I played the clarinet like a bird sings and everyone would whisper that I was too good to be in the school band. My music teacher was thoroughly impressed and used me as an example on how the other kids should take music more seriously. Blah. Misty was a flute player - in the last seat I mind you (that's like the oh-you-cant-really-play-so-we'll-put-you-on-the-end-and-hopefully-everyone-else-will-drown-you-out-seat). It so happens that on the front row of a full ensemble the clarinets sit beside the flutes. I sat second chair (not for long) between a chick with an afro and a different chick that seriously needed a bath. Our music teacher was flipping out on the trumpets on my third day there. She made this comment, "I bet April could play it better than you with your own instrument." Being the smartass that I am, I spoke up and said, "of course I can, shall I prove it?" The look on the teacher's face was priceless and I did prove that I could play the trumpet, then the flute, sax, trombone and percussion. After percussion, I told the teacher that if she had any style woodwind, I could also play it as well as the french horn and tuba. After that, no one would even look at me. It was almost as I was invisible. The bus rides home were the worst. People would sit 3 to a bench seat just to avoid having to sit beside me. That third day home, my life changed for forever.
Accustomed to having my own seat, I stretched my legs out and began reading in the bus seat. Shortly after, Misty flopped down on my knees, almost buckling them. I looked up at her with evil eyes and she said, "I don't care how scary your eyes are, what instruments you can play or how much you know about everything." I kept my look and responded, "fuck you." She got the most surprised look on her face and said, "well, thanks for the offer but I haven't even had a boy yet." I rolled my eyes down to focus on my book again. The brave little Misty took my book and introduced herself.
"I'm Misty and yes, I just took your book. I live on Myrtle Drive and you're from Myrtle Beach. You live on Louise Avenue and my Granny's name is Louise. You're in the band and I'm in the band. You have an annoying little brother and so do I. So we have lots in common and I think we should be friends."
"yeah right," I responded.
Every since then, it has always been Misty and April. We lived only a mile away from eachother and would walk halfway each to meet. In the middle was two ponds. We would sit on the bank and talk about school, boys and anything else that was on our mind. Actually, she did most of the talking. I've always been the more silent one and she can't shut up. We did mostly everything together until she hit 16 and I turned 15. She got pregnant and moved away at the same time that I was accepted into the North Carolina School of the Arts, majoring in Music btw *wink*. She went to Oklahoma with her Mom to carry and have the baby and I went to live in a dorm with people I didn't know. We called for the first few months but soon she began busy with being pregnant and I got busy with my new life. She called me one day toward the end of my pregnancy and left this message on my machine.
April, I hope that you are going home this weekend because I've sent a very special package that will spoil if you are not there to open it. Hope that you like it. Talk to you again soon."
I immediately called home and ask my parents to come get me that weekend and explained Misty's message to them. My mom did not like Misty and that was no secret. She thought Misty would influence me to do bad girl things, like getting pregnant at 16. I suspected nothing when I arrived home. I went into my old room that still looked the same before hitting the television downstairs. It couldn't have been 15 minutes later, long enough for her Papa to drive her to my house and drop her off, that someone knocked on the door. Mom yelled down that she would get it, it was probably a religious person with a booklet. I heard her open the door and then whispering. It was Misty. She waddled her little fat, pregnant body into the house and yelled, "SURPRISE." I looked up at her and said, "where's your bow?" We caught up on things and she left. We saw eachother a few times after that.
I remember seeing Dakota (her first baby) for the first time. He was so small and noisy. I ask her how she dealt with it and she did not respond. I couldn't get over the fact that he was so beautiful. Until that moment, I never wanted children. She was 16 and still a kid herself when Dakota was 2 weeks old. She wasn't through with being a kid and signed Dakota over to her mother and her husband to raise as their own. A part of me never forgave her for that. I only personally know 1 person, my Aunt, that hasn't lost their first born one way or another - either by death or giving them up. Sad isn't it?
It was years before I saw her again. I had graduated and she moved on. The next time we saw each other, Tim and I were living in a tiny place in Mount Airy. Out of curiosity, I called her Papa's house and ask for her. She was there. We agreed on a place to meet and so began our relationship again. We had glorious nights on the town, in Tim's sports car, spending Tim's money and being good girls trying to be bad. We were never bad. We did experiment with a few illegal substances but none ever stuck on us. We were happy just being together, riding with the t-tops out and jamming to Lynard Skynard. Every where we went, people would look at us. I was a tall, long haired - hippy looking redhead and she was a short blonde with a large chest. Guys never stood a chance with me, I had Tim. It wasn't long before she met her future husband. At the time, he seemed like a great guy.
Jamie was an our age fellow with a good job, a new truck and completely head over heels for Misty. He didn't care that she had a past and she didn't ask questions about him. They were cute together and we enjoyed double dating. One day, Jamie decided that he didn't like my influence on Misty. She was forbid to talk to me. It must have been a hell of a choice for her. She chose both but me whenever she could fit me in. We sneaked around for the longest.
The morning that I lost Audrey, Misty was on the phone with me. She heard my shrieks and told me to hang up on her and call 9-1-1. I couldn't move. She hung up on me and called them herself. They arrived in the nick of time to save my life. For that I will never be able to repay Misty. She met me at the hospital and held my hand as the doctor told me about Audrey. Misty was pregnant and terrified but toughed it out for me. She rode home with me and left me at my Mom's to go nextdoor to my house and rid it of any reminders laying around. She packed all of Audrey's things (bottles, dirty clothes, shoes, toys, baby books) in Audrey's room and closed the door. It was over a year before I opened that door again. She poured my drinks when I was too messed up to pour them. Drinking eased the pain. She took care of me when Tim went back to work and I wasn't myself. Jamie complained and she told him to get lost. He waited patiently for her, trying to understand. Those days are still blurry to me but she was there until I could function well enough to care for myself. I was devastated. I wonder what it did to her to see me like that. I was the quiet but strong one. We never talk about Audrey, to this day.
Over the course of the last 4 years, either Jamie or Tim have forbid our relationship, taking turns. We both ignore our husbands and meet occasionally. She now has 2 children, Bryson (4) and Zach (3). I have opinions about her husband that I will not wait to share. He is the lowest life on Earth that there is. After Misty and Jamie married, he began faking seizures and used them as an excuse to work. He has only done odd jobs with no future for work. He cheats on her. He hits her. He doesn't help her with the kids. He won't even watch the kids for her to work. I don't know why she is still with him but I wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire, I'd probably add gas just to see how high I could get the flames. She loves him so much, I don't understand it. They survive by Misty's Papa, who gives them everything they need and most of what they want. It is sad really. Her house is rarely clean, by clean I mean you can't get in the door without stepping on something - toys, trash, old food. She refuses to clean it for him to bring his friends over and them trash the house, I understand but damn. I can't visit her in her house without cleaning it, which gets on her nerves and gives us away. Because she never cleans, if Jamie comes home (from fishing, hunting or hanging out with his friends) and the house is clean, he knows that I've been there.
Misty has seen me go from the person that made every one laugh to the person that I am today. I still make people laugh but it is a very select group. She witnessed my change after Audrey. She truly understand me and is the only person alive that has seen me cry. She has watched while I've beat people into a pulp (including my own sister because she jumped Misty). Misty is like an old shirt for me - comfortable but ragged and too sentimental to throw away. I can't wait for the day that she grows up and Jamie grows up and they have something besides a mess for a marriage. Misty knows all of my secrets and has kept most of them to herself. That I know of, she has never told anyone how much I drank - even though she has witnessed me drink over a gallon of whiskey in a night. I don't know that I'd trust her with new information (not that I have any) but she keeps me to her self and that is the way that I prefer it.
~~damn my fingers are tired.
2 sides, no words and illness...
Isaac went off to school today, as usual. He had no complaints to share with me about his body or the way he felt. He was coughing a little more than I like so I looked at his throat, ask him if he felt good, gave him some allergy medicine and sent him to school due to his throat being normal and his answer being "yes Momma." I spoke with the assistant teacher when Isaac got on the bus and told her that he was coughing some and I had given him Zytec. I went on the explain that Zytec wears Isaac down and he will not want to move around much. At about 10:30am, Isaac's teacher calls me.
"Isaac has been coughing his little head off all morning and just isn't his self. I tried taking his temperature but we only have two ancient ones and both say 'rectal' on them. I'm sure that he has a fever." She explained and really sounded sincere.
"I told Ms. T this morning that I gave Isaac Zytec due to his cough. I gave him Zytec because I am sure that this is allergy related. I will bring you a digital themometer and we will check his temperature. If he is running a temperature, there is more than allergies going on. Ask him if his head hurts." I said.
"I don't know why his head would hurt but I'll ask him." Short pause. "He says that his head does not hurt. I really hate for you to get out in this weather just to check his temperature.." I stopped her.
"A child's well being is no bother to me, for my own child or some one else's. The reason I ask you if his head hurt is because if their head hurts, they have a fever and it came on suddenly - he could have meningitis. I've seen it before in my own brother and sickness is not something that I by pass. I'll be there in a few minutes." I hung up, dressed Nicholas warmly and we got in the car. Tim didn't know what was going on, so I explained on the way.
If we went to the drug store and I bought a 10 second digital themometer and a box of probe covers for it. Then we drove to the school. Tim and Nicholas sat in the car while I went in. I handed the digital themometer to Ms. T and told her that it belonged to the class. As she was thanking me, Ms. J said that they couldn't have a themometer like that because it had to have the covers too. I handed Ms. J the box of probe covers and smiled. I ask where the rubber gloves were located and got a quick response. I put the gloves on and proceeded to open the box, get the themometer, put a probe cover on it and check Isaac's temperature. As I placed it under his arm, Ms. J told me that there was something special to do if I took his temperature there but she couldn't remember what. I told her that if you take a temperature with an oral themometer in the armpit, you had to add 1 degree to the finished temperature. She ask how I knew and I explained that I was a nurse and Isaac did have a fever so I was taking him to the doctor. I swooped him, his baby, his blanket and his book bag up and carried them to the car. Tim buckled him in while I called the doctor's office.
At first, the doctor's office said that there wasn't any appointments until day after tomorrow. I reminded the receptionist who I am before I said, "I am coming to the office with both of my children. You can either give me an appointment to be seen or I will bypass you all together and go straight to their doctors." It wasn't long before she offered me a 12:00 noon appointment. That was thirty minutes away, we really had to shake a leg.
At the doctor's office, Isaac and Nicholas were said to have allergies and probably caused due to the hurricanes bringing so much foreign things in the air from Florida. To be on the safe side, he wanted to give them both an antibiotic in the event that mucus turned to green. This way I wouldn't have to come in again if I didn't want to. I called the school and let them know. We filled the prescriptions and went to my best friend's house to get Isaac's old car seat.
Misty and I have been best friends for 13 years now. She isn't the brightest crayon in the box and certainly doesn't offer me any as a friend, not even loyalty. There is a longer story about this but I will post on it later. Misty is the hardest person in the world to catch. She is a road rambler and always has been. She is never at home and that is hard for me to understand. Her kids also go to school, so I knew she would be home at 2:00PM because the kids get out at 2:30PM. We pulled up in her driveway and I went to the door. Her husband answered the door after 3 minutes of my knocking. He opened the door and said, "let me guess, you're here to get the car seat."
"Yep," I said annoyed.
"Misty, you were right, she is here for the car seat." He yelled through the house before explaining to me, "she knew that's what you were here for and since she doesn't have it, she was going to not answer the door."
"I see." I said, even more annoyed.
Misty eventually came outside, where I was waiting as patiently as possible. She gave me a sob story about where the car seat was and I wasn't hearing it.
"It's like this Misty. I want my car seat. Nicholas's legs have to be bent in his carry car seat and that makes him uncomfortable. So because of your neglect of something that I let you borrow, my child is suffering. I don't give a damned who has my car seat, I want it. Now. So give me the number of the stupid motherfucker who took my car seat from you so that I can call him and get it back."
She sighed deeply and gave me the number. In the background, her husband was telling her not to let me handle it. I dialed the number on my cellphone as she gave it to me. She ask for the phone to talk with them first. She turned her back and talked for a few minutes and ask if I could get the car seat back. I'm not sure what deal she made but it didn't sound good for her. She handed me the phone back and said some more bullshit but that I would need to call the number back later and talk to Donna about the car seat. So be it. I called later and spoke with Donna. She was helpful and understanding and went on to explain that Misty had her green car seat and she would need it back if she were to give me mine back. I told her that I was getting my car seat back and she would just have to track Misty down to get hers back. She agreed and gave me directions to her house. I'll be going tomorrow afternoon.
Dinner was ready when we got home. I had started vegetable soup in the crock pot early this morning and all that was left to do was make grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it. Within 5 minutes of being home, everyone had a bowl of soup and a sandwich. It has turned colder here, faster than normal. The snow isn't far, I can tell. We are going to have a hard winter.
~~worried about my kids
Saturday, September 25, 2004
and so it was late...
Tim's official birthday was Thursday, September 23. He was 39 years old. Since he was working, he got his birthday present (a dvd player and surround sound system)early and today he got his birthday dinner. It doesn't matter what I cook, it is always his favorite. Tonight I cooked a meatloaf that melted in our mouths, stewed potatoes, peas and carrots and biscuits, of course, all homemade. In addition to dinner I spent the majority of the morning baking his cake. I made the cake and icing from scratch as well as decorated it myself. I bought fresh cut flowers and did the table up super nice for him. When we returned from picking Tim up from work, as soon as we opened the door, you could smell the treats. All of the way up the basement stairs, Tim guessed what he was having for his birthday dinner. He was never further from the truth but he enjoyed it none-the-less. Here are some pictures.
First the table...
A close up of the cake...
Feeling very domestic from the day of made-from-scratch cooking, I decided to give quilt making a whirl. I'm making a quilt for Nicholas that will measure 60 inches square. It has 5 basic prints of fabric in a red, light blue, dark blue, yellow plaid and yellow with blue flowers. I picked these fabrics for a specific reason.
The red is to represent my love for Nicholas. The light blue and dark blue for the colors in his eyes and yellow for happiness. I am finished with a little over half of the piecing together. Once all of the pieces are together, batting, binding and finishing are to be done. Hopefully, I'll have it done by Monday.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Today, Nicholas and I helped escort 18 children, including Isaac, to the county fair. This is Isaac's first experience with the fair as well as most of the kids in his class. At first they were all scared of the rides, then a few got to like them and finally no one wanted to get off and would scream madly when it was time to get off of the rides. I can not express the pain in my head after the multiple screams of 200+ children for 4 hours straight. The sun was glaring, I overdressed and since the concessions were not open yet, I remained hungry. The kids had snacks and bag lunches. Isaac tried to share his sandwich with me, what a sweet heart right? Ha!
Not all was lost, 3 hours into the fair, Isaac got the hang of the process involved in riding the rides. He finally figured out that he had to stand in line and only move when the line moved, the assistant would help him buckle in to be safe and when the ride stopped, he had to wait for the assistant to unbuckle him and then he was to exit the ride quietly. It seemed that just as we were starting to have fun, it was time to go.
Lunch was interesting too. Bees are mother nature. In the spring, they are a attracted to bushes and flowers to feast on the larva of other bugs. Toward fall, their tastes change and they hunt for anything sweet. The fair is the best place to find something sweet, there are funnel cakes, caramel apples, cotton candy and sugar rich fountain drinks. When people are finished eating, naturally they discard leftover items in the trash can and surely the trash cans would be located nearer to the eating place for easy disposal. As our pre-k children sat down to eat, the bees began bugging them. The picnic area was over ruled by the stinging pests. Two children were stung and, luckily for us, they were not allergic. I happened to be the parent that came prepared with stinger spray, tweezers and band-aids. I also had other first aid necessities but those were the only required. I carefully pulled the stinger out with the tweezers, gave the area a spray and put a band-aid over the slightly swelled parts of the children who were stung. All was well.
Tonight, all is quiet in my house. We are all exhausted in our own little way. Isaac was overly stimulated by the sounds and rides, I was exhausted from chasing children, Nicholas was tired of being in his walker or my arms. Isaac is currently laying on the couch, Nicholas is doing laps around the house in his walker and I have been ready for bed since 5:00 PM.
~~who is overprepared? Surely not this Momma!
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
policy council meeting...
After getting Isaac off to school, I had no time to waste in cleaning before it was time to take Nicholas to the doctor. This appointment was to discuss his apnea monitor and the allergic reactions to the electrodes that are required to work the machine. The doctor and I discussed the pros and cons of continued use of the apnea monitor for Nicholas. The only reason Nicholas has an apnea monitor is to ease my mind that he may quit breathing while I sleep. This is a realistic fear for any parent but mine is reinforced by Audrey's death as she died in her sleep while I was sleeping. The apnea monitor is connected to Nicholas with a patient wire and two wires plugged into that, those are connected to Nicholas with electrodes. The electrodes are small circle or square sticky on one side patches and stick directly onto Nicholas abdomen. One electrode monitors heart rate and the other monitors respiration. If the heart rate gets too low or too high, the apnea monitor will alarm. If the respirations get too slow or too fast, the apnea monitor will alarm. Nicholas has been on an apnea monitor since he was born and he has reacted to the sticky on the electrodes from day one. These leave tiny blisters on his sides. I replace the electrodes daily, after his bath, and move them to different places on his abdomen in an effort to avoid the blisters. So far, it has been so that Nicholas gets about 4 of these blisters a week. The older he gets, the more he scratches at the blister and he has popped a few in the last couple of days. Obviously, I'm tired of him having to deal with the blisters and I honestly don't think that I need the apnea monitor anymore for comfort. Nicholas sleeps with me and hubby and I haven't used the monitor in a few days now. Doctor says that we will continue use, whenever I need it, for another month - just to make sure that I am ready for it.
Tonight was the first of many Policy Council Meetings. In a previous post, I told you about the Policy Council and what it is for but now I have a clearer picture to share with you. Each school appoints a Policy Council Member. The PC Member from each school meets once a month at a local restaurant, eats and then discusses everything from new employees to academic approaches. The members vote on a variety of things. I learned that there are numerous education opportunities for me as well as Isaac. It is really groovy that the board allows parents to be so involved in the total picture of children's education.
Tomorrow should be a very fun but exhausting day. Nicholas and I are going on a field trip with Isaac and his class to the county fair. Expect many pictures and wish my sanity luck.
~~oh the joys
Sunday, September 19, 2004
4 legged critters...
In addition to my daily grind, yesterday we did something completely new to our family. As you may or may not know, the land included with the purchase of our house included a small pasture. The pasture is only about an acre and seemed more growth than anything. We have already had to have it cut once due to the growth. Our pasture is fenced in with two gates on the north and south side. There is another pasture on the north side of our pasture that shares a fence with our pasture. In the other pasture, there are 3 horses - a mare, a stud and a colt. Until now, we have admirer these horses from afar. Last Thursday, I walked down to the other pasture to speak with the owner of the 3 horses. I told her that if she wanted, she could open our north gate and let her horses chew our pasture down. She was grateful because she was already having to feed them hay due to the lack of grass on her pasture. She walked our pasture to make sure that the fences were secure and there was nothing dangerous for the colt to get hurt on. Soon the gate was open and the horses came in to feast on our grass. For a few days, they stayed in the northwest corner of our pasture.
Today, we came home from town to find the horses in the south end of our pasture. This is only about 15 foot away from our driveway. We carefully got out of the car and my husband immediately went to the fence. The stud and the colt smelled of his hand and before you knew it, he was petting the horses. When I came up, they left. I was determined to pet these horses so I went into the house and brought back carrots. It wasn't long before the stud and colt were eating out of all of our hands, even Isaac's. I though Isaac may be afraid of the horses for nothing else but their size but he wasn't even shy to them. We stood outside for about 2 hours feeding and petting the horses.
In the pasture to the east of ours that shares a fence with us, there lives a solid black Tennessee Walker. This is one beautiful horse. While we were petting the colt and stud, he kept looking over the fence as if he were jealous. I went down to the southeast corner of our pasture and tried to coax him over with carrots. He responded to my voice and would shake his tail on command but would not come over and take the carrot from me. I threw several carrots, one hitting his ass, and he walked away as if he were not interested in my carrots. I called him a jackass and he nodded his head at me. Horses! It wasn't until I joined Tim and Isaac again before the black horse happily munched on the carrots. He neighed really loud like he was saying "thank you but I'm still not going to let you pet me." I yelled to him, "you're welcome jack." He nodded again. Tim says that it won't be long before he'll eat the carrots from my hands like the horses that are using our pasture.
My original plan for our pasture was to by a calf, put it in our pasture, feed it corn only and name it "Ribeye." We were going to feed the calf the best feed for the most tender meat and kill it when it was time. This seems brutal to me now. Tim's brother has horses that he does absolutely nothing with and Tim seems to think that he will sell them to him for next to nothing. These horses have never been broke or had any special attention. It will be hard to gain the trust of these horses but completely worth it in the end. We are still weighing the positives and negatives. Tim says that he is too old to break a horse. For those of you that do not know, breaking a horse involves trust, on both parts horse and human, patience, time and usually a sore bum. Breaking is getting the horse that has never had a saddle on it to be able to wear a saddle and finally to respond to rope directions. It takes a lot of dedication, patience and a sore ass. I've only ever broken two horses. The first, I thought I would just get on it, without a saddle, and ride it until it was tired. That plan may have worked if I would have at least bridled it first. Never-the-less, I got a sore ass but the horse will let me ride him bareback still. The second horse I bridled and took to a shallow stream. The water provides a cushion for me and wears the horse out faster. Think about it, is it easier to run in a field or in water up to your knees? It makes sense. So I took the horse to a shallow stream and saddled it, barely, then put a 50 lb bag of potatoes in the saddle. Once he we through bucking and running, he was tired and did not resist when I removed the bag of potatoes and got on. I only helped break this horse for that one day. Some horses require up to a year of doing this daily to be able to ride. I have never completely broken a horse on my own, owned a horse or cared for a horse for an extended length of time. I'm sure that it is a lot of work. I already have a lot of work. The time off would be worth it though, I would be able to ride with my family and that would just rock.
Isaac told Tim yesterday, "Daddy, I want horse, I be a cowboy baby."
Friday, September 17, 2004
I woke up in the same mood that I went to sleep with. Just when it seemed that it would never get better and my day would remain rotten, I remembered that my husband's birthday is next week. His profession keeps him away from us Tuesday through Sunday and this means that we'll miss his actual birthday so I got busy today.
I bought my husband a dvd/stereo/surround sound combination. We have had a big screen tv for the longest but never took that leap into the present by purchasing a dvd player. I bought it and two dvd's of his favorite variety - westerns. Its true, my hubby is the biggest John Wayne fan. I don't mind the modern westerns so I bought Open Range and Wyatt Earp, both starring Kevin Cosner.
Once again, he is happy and after a 4 hour nap with Nicholas, I feel much better.
Hima, your things are done, I've been waiting for you to im me when you have time. *sticking tongue out*
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Nicholas has been in one of those moods. For those of you who are not a parent yet, "those" moods are ones that belong to someone else's child. Never would your angel act out so unless it was one of "those" mood days. Today he spent the majority of the day crying in my arms. I wasn't ignoring him, refused to sit him down and worried as to why he wasn't eating. When he would eat, he'd take 2 huge gulps off of my breasts and pull away crying. You can imagine the state I was in, hair in a frazzle, head about to bust open with pain, seeing all sorts of things that needed to be done and not able to do. He didn't take a nap either. There seemed to be no resolve of this day and I planned to pull an all nighter.
It was at 7:00 PM when Nicholas finally went to sleep. This is after a 30 minute bath, a couple of books and a too tired to be stressed mom. Another pointer for you non-parents, is that a fussy child will usually calm in a bath, keeping temperature no less than 98 degrees F and no more than 101 degrees F, for at least 20 minutes. This will wear your little fussy one down fast. Be prepared to dress them quickly because they are going to go to sleep very soon after, especially if you use lavender soap. He was so sleepy that I didn't even get time to dress Isaac for bed and Justin ended up helping Isaac into his pj's. By 8:00 PM, both boys were in their beds and either just about to enter the realm of sleep or already blissfully there.
When Isaac and I went to the library, I checked out a book called,The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding
. I was about half way through it tonight when I read about "milk letdown". Apparently, be patient with me fellas, there is a period during breastfeeding with the floor gates are opened and the baby doesn't have to work as hard at the milk. There are many factors that prevent the letdown and stress and fatigue are the main two. After the letdown and towards the end of feeding on each breast a natural laxative, made by my body, released in the milk. This aids the baby on comfortable stools. It became clear to me why Nicholas was in one of "those" moods. I have been especially fatigued since I gave blood and super stressed out for over a week now with no end in sight. This means that my milk never letdown and that pissed Nicholas off, causing his frustration after taking a few gulps. If my milk didn't let down, the laxative isn't ingested and that would make his belly hurt on top of being not full. Oh sure, it makes sense now but damn I wish I knew earlier. My parenting lesson for the day will stick with me. This is not one that I will have to relearn in a few years, it is with me for life.
My recommendation to expectant, new, old and retired mothers is to read. If only for 15 minutes a day, you will become wiser.
~~not worried but still tired
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
the first of many...
Tonight was Isaac's first Parent Meeting. I met a few of the other parents, only 4 (including me) showed up out of 19 kids. I can't imagine why parents don't take time to be actively involved in their children's lives. This is something I will always ponder, as I am very interested in Isaac's education. This was the perfect opportunity to ask the teachers specific questions about Isaac's behavior in the classroom. I found out that his favorite play areas were the "construction", which features a large variety of building blocks and legos and the "playground", should be obvious to you but it is the outside jungle gym thing. I also found out that Isaac eats well at school, even his fruits and juices. He has two teachers but only one of them were at the meeting and she was really thorough on all topics. Explanations of how things work was really the theme of tonight's meeting. She explained the Scholastic Readers Program and how every $15 ordered by parents meant that the center got a free set of books. It was also stated that volunteer hours add up to more funding for each individual center. Parent of the month is the parent that volunteers the most and Parent of the Year has to volunteer at least 100 hours and do a special project with the kids. I bet you have no doubt on who will be Parent of the Year. *grins* Also at the meeting, a parent was asked to volunteer to be on the Policy Council. This Policy Council consists of a leader and 1 parent from each center and meetings are held at a local restaurant. Funding, projects, field trips, special needs, supplies and total growth of each center are on the topics of discussion and it is up to the Policy Council to ensure that the center you represent gets the things that they need to remain the best. I am the Policy Council Parent for Isaac's center.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
I dunno why blogger refuses to post my posted entries but they show on the "edit" comments.
~~too tired to fix it today, expect a flood of daily adventures as soon as time and energy allows.
in the loo of things...
Tim got up with Isaac, dressed him, fed him and put him on the school bus. This allowed me to sleep for an additional hour and it was much needed sleep. The only set back that I've experienced with this whole donating blood thing is the fact that last night and today I've been excessively tired. Had it been an average day, I may not have been so exhausted though.
By 8:30 AM, we were out the door and on our way to town to pay a few bills. One of our friends, Erica, needed a ride down to Troutman to get her pick-up truck. An added bonus of helping her do this is getting a few things fixed on my car. I called her and by 9:00 AM, we began our 1 hour journey to Troutman. Once there, my car was put on a dyno machine. Basically, this machine plugs into the computer system of a car and can detect all problems with the car. We had been hearing a pecking noise in our little Kia Sportage and were concerned with it. It turned out that the spark plug wires were bad and needed replacing. In addition to new wires, we also had the air conditioning fixed and gear oil put in the transfer box. The transfer box holds the gears necessary for the 4-wheel drive to work properly. Without the gear oil in the transfer box, the 4-wheel drive would not engage and our gear oil level was really low. The gear oil should be replaced every 100,000 miles or when it is emptied by a professional. We had transmission work done to the car over a year ago and the bright assed mechanic that called himself a professional failed to replace or fill the transfer box with gear oil. Retard.
By 1:00 PM, We were zipping through the hour drive to get back in time to pick up Austin from school. We made it. Then we rushed home to get Isaac off of the bus. We made it with only seconds to spare. No sooner than Isaac got home, my Papa came over, then Mom came over to get Austin, and finally Erica brought her brother, James, over for me to help him with his math homework. James did not understand the teacher, his mother or his sister, who had all tried every way they knew possible to teach him these math skills. 30 minutes after we began, James completely understood his math assignment and was thrilled that he knew what to do and had fun learning. I can't wait until my kids are big enough to need help with their homework. James requested a personal copy of my phone number so that he could call me when he needed help again. It was granted.
My house was full of children playing, adults talking loudly over the noise of the kids playing and my cats were hiding in the corners due to the confusion of it all. You would think that I would be thoroughly please with all of my guests and the sounds in my house but I didn't have my strength back and therefore was not in a good mood at all. It is a good thing that these people know me well because they, one by one, left for their own reasons but soon enough that I didn't blow up. Once everyone was gone, with the exception of Tim, Justin, Isaac and Nicholas, I was able to sit down and relax but it was short lived.
At 8:00 PM, the kids and I took Tim to work and I met with the insurance sales woman. She was groovy.
~~exhausted to the max
Monday, September 13, 2004
i gave my blood to vampires...
Today I took out 45 minutes of my life to donate my blood to the American Red Cross. At first I thought of it as just that, donating blood, but after the required reading and information given to me after I donated, I've learned that I really saved 3 lives. The 45 minutes total ended up working this way; 15 minutes reading required information, 15 minutes completing paperwork, 10 minutes preparation for the transfer of my blood from my body into a pint sized bag, and 5 minutes to fill that bag. After donating, I was swept away to the front of the donation area and fed. I was ask to take my time and stay at least 10 minutes to make sure that I was not going to get dizzy. This was my first time donating and I have to give donating blood a 1.0 on the stress scale. At all times I was completely in control, able to change my mind at any time with no notice, it didn't take long, everyone was nice and I got free food. *laughs* So here are some interesting facts about blood, donating and how things work in the world of the American Red Cross.
Only 5% of eligible people actually donate, it is estimated that 95% of us will need blood or a blood product during our lifetime.
In my area, more than 1,600 units of blood are needed each day for patients in local hospitals.
An individual can donate blood every 56 days.
Blood donations have been processed, tested, transported and transfused within a few days of donation. Red cells can be stored for 42 days.
Platelets have only a 5-day shelf life.
Each blood donation is processed into 3 components:
Red Blood Cells - that carry oxygen from the lungs to every cell in the body. They are needed by patients who have lost blood in an accident or who have anemia.
Platelets - help blood clot. Cancer patients need lots of platelets to offset the effects of chemotherapy.
Plasma - is used to control bleeding in certain patients and to make a variety of products such as antihemophilic factor. More than half of blood is plasma.
Blood is needed for:
open heart surgeries
treatment of cancer
anemia and clotting disorders
Possible Transfusion Combinations
Blood Type: O+
Can be given to: O+, A+, B+, AB+
Can receive: O+, O-
Blood Type: A+
Can be given to: A+, AB+
Can receive: A+, O+, A-, O-
Blood Type: B+
Can be given to: B+, AB+
Can receive: B+, O+, B-, O-
Blood Type: AB+
Can be given to: AB+
Can receive: O+, A+, B+, AB+, O-, A-, B-, AB-
Blood Type: O-
Can be given to: O+, A+, B+, AB+, O-, A-, B-, AB-
Can receive: O-
Blood Type: A-
Can be given to: A+, AB+, A-, AB-
Can receive: A-, O-
Blood Type: B-
Can be given to: B+, AB+, B-, AB-
Can receive: B-, O-
Blood Type: AB-
Can be given to: AB+, AB-
Can receive: O-, A-, B-, AB-
If you have never given blood, do it, you walk away with the feeling that you just saved 3 lives because you did.
If you have given blood but it has been awhile, go back. You must have forgotten the feeling.
If you give blood as often as possible for you, thank you, the life you save may be my own, my children's, my husband's, or someone in my family.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Pardon my lack of written expression over the last few days. I have been up to the same daily routine that you have come to know and love but with a couple of twists. As you can see, I've started working again. I wanted to start small and with someone that is very flexible and forgiving. Hima was that someone. We've been working together on her blog design and I think the end product is super groovy. I've also designed a title for Mynna, which was gonna be a surprise but I didn't want her to be sad that she didn't have a design yet. So my days look like this.
5:30 AM - Wake Up, Enjoy Coffee and a smoke.
5:45 AM - Workout
6:00 AM - Shower
6:45ish - Nicholas eats.
7:30 AM - Wake Isaac, get him read for school
8:15 AM - Isaac gets on bus
8:30 AM - Nicholas wakes up, after changing his diaper and eating, we play
10:00 AM - Nicholas eats and naps until noonish and I clean clean clean
12:00 Noon - Nicholas wakes, he eats then we play
2:30 PM - Isaac gets home from school, Nicholas eats
5:00 PM - Cook, Nicholas eats
6:00 PM - Supper
7:00 PM - Dishes, after Nicholas eats
7:30 PM - Bathes for the boys
8:00 PM - Storytime and bed, Nicholas eats
8:30 PM - Boys are asleep, (reading, cleaning, working) time for me
10:30 PM - I go to sleep
1:30 AM - Nicholas eats
My times to clean and work are when Isaac is at school and Nicholas sleeps or when they are both asleep. It gets interesting.
Friday, September 10, 2004
hima's blog title - take 2
Hima's Blog Title - Take 1
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
I'm so tired, I'll share pictures instead of typing...
We'll catch up on today, tomorrow...
The born heartbreaker, look at those eyes - that face...
Awe, my favorite picture of the day...
He's kissing his baby instead of me...btw, that's a close up of the new rug...
Awe! How can something so cute be so rotten?
This is classic Nicholas, layed out on his Mother's lap...
You may or may not be aware of the recent holiday in the states, Labor Day.
Labor Day is a national legal holiday that is over 100 years old. Over the years, it has evolved from a purely labor union celebration into a general "last fling of summer" festival.
It grew out of a celebration and parade in honor of the working class by the Knights of Labor in 1882 in New York. In 1884, the Knights held a large parade in New York City celebrating the working class. The parade was held on the first Monday in September. The Knights passed a resolution to hold all future parades on the same day, designated by them as Labor Day.
The Socialist Party held a similar celebration of the working class on May 1. This date eventually became known as May Day, and was celebrated by Socialists and Communists in commemoration of the working man. In the U.S., the first Monday in September was selected to reject any identification with Communism.
In the late 1880's, labor organizations began to lobby various state legislatures for recognition of Labor Day as an official state holiday. The first states to declare it a state holiday in, 1887, were Oregon, Colorado, New York, Massachusetts, and New Jersey. Then in 1894, Congress passed a law recognizing Labor Day as an official national holiday.
Today, Labor Day is observed not only in the U.S. but also in Canada, and in other industrialized nations. While it is a general holiday in the United States, its roots in the working class remain clearer in European countries.
It has come to be recognized in the U.S. not only as a celebration of the working class, but even more so as the unofficial end of the summer season. In the northern half of the U.S. at least, the summer vacation season begins with Memorial Day and ends with Labor Day.
Many colleges and some secondary and elementary schools begin classes immediately after Labor Day.
State parks, swimming pools, and campgrounds are all quite busy on Labor Day, as vacationers take one last advantage of the waning hot season. September is the month that marks the beginning of autumn. And, because of that, the average daytime maximum temperatures take a plunge during the month in most of the U.S.
This Labor Day, I worked harder than any other day. Tim and I began cleaning the house shortly after waking up, having coffee and eating breakfast. We cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, in about 5 hours. Yes, I am a clean freak.
Next, we piled in the car and zoomed over to Mom's house for dinner. We were there for about 2 hours before a friend, Erica, called needed help towing a car. She had never towed vehicle before and was scared to do it. Tim, the baby and I went to her house to check out the dolly and car. It is a good thing that we did come over. The car dolly that she rented was a piece of shit. The lights didn't work, the sway bar had to be strung into place and it was completely wrecked. I raised hell but the appropriate person wasn't there and I am supposed to call in the morning to chew $20 more bucks out of his ass. I will.
We spent the next 6 hours towing a car to a garage. When we got back, Mom had given Isaac a bath. My real dad was there, waiting on me to return. It was good seeing him. *yawn* So we came home at like 11:00 PM. That's only about 2 hours past my bed time. I still had to take Erica home though, so I dropped Tim and the sleeping kids off. Upon pulling up in the driveway, Justin was sitting on the front step. He had told me that he would hope this morning, he wasn't. I am bound and determined to teach him a lesson without breaking him in the process so we left for Mom's despite his absence. Due to the fact he was not home when he was supposed to be, he ended up sitting outside, with no cigarettes, for 4 hours. That'll teach him.
I got home at midnight. *yawn*
Sunday, September 05, 2004
holy shitballs Batman...
Those were Tim's exact words when he saw his new riding mower, "holy shitballs Batman." He walked right past it in the basement this morning and did not see it. It wasn't until we were on our way to breakfast that he noticed. He likes it so much that he mowed on Sunday. I told him that there is an unwritten law about mowing grass on Sunday and how bad it is but he told me I was crazy. What else is new?
Saturday, September 04, 2004
A design in born...
I've volunteered to design a blog template for Hima's blog. I ask her what she liked and one of the things she said was dew drops. I used this picture...
and a little creative design and made her a blog. Hopefully you'll see it on her blog soon.
When I was growing up, Saturday was always the cleaning day. We all had our chores to do daily but Saturday was the wall washing, spic and span, everything has to be completely spotless day. I have fond memories of piling up in my parents bed with my dad, who didn't work on Saturday, watching tv while my mom worked. Thirty minutes before she was scheduled to get off of work, we would all jump up and have the majority of the house clean. My dad would even pitch in. By the time that Mom got home, we were all sweaty and there was an obvious amount of work completed, always enough to satisfy her. She would change and pitch in and within the hour, we were done and enjoying the company of each other until that night, when we would go skating and they would do old-people-married-stuff. I recall hating Saturday morning and the cleaning spree but now that I'm older, I appreciate those Saturdays so much that I've continued the tradition and put my Isaac to work. *laughs*
Every morning, Isaac is to make his bed, put his toys in his toy box and brush his teeth. It is a ritual that I've embedded in his head from day one and he does it without thinking it is a chore. Since he was old enough to walk and wanted to help, he has added emptying ashtrays to his choreless his self. Now that I have all of these floors to clean, Isaac picks up the rugs for me to sweep and clean the hardwood and when I'm finished, he puts them back. It is groovy that he wants to help me and he tries so hard.
Tim is scheduled in tonight after midnight, *ugh*, and Mom has requested my help in cutting her flower beds back for winter. In order to get all of my chores and help my mother done before bedtime for the boys, I had to really kick it into high gear today. I cleaned my house spotless and was over at Mom's by 5:00 PM. She cooked steaks and after filling my belly, I got busy in her beds. Justin and Mom helped. Together we managed to clean every bed that she has, someday I will take pictures of her yard to show you the massive flower beds.
So, I'm tired but can't wait to see the look on Tim's face when he sees his new riding mower.
Friday, September 03, 2004
I love my hubby this much...
A little history first, of course darling. Tim and I have had the most rocky relationship of anyone that I know personally, have read about or saw on television. We have been through the ringers ladies and gentlemen. You wouldn't know that by visiting our house or hanging out with us at dinner, we are totally zoned in on eachother and very on key, now. My mother would be the only one to figure out if he did something that pissed me off of visa versa. So anyway, for the past year, we have been ironing out the last of the problems, ok its been just me but he doesn't have any problems, he is perfect and I am not being sarcastic at all. Through the course of the last year, Tim has had a total of 5 weeks off. Out of a week, he has worked 5 or 6 days and only spent 1 or 2 days home and then off again on another trip. He did stay home in April when we had Nicholas though, for 2 weeks. Everyone may assume that I get lonely but I can't with all that I do. Isaac and Nicholas keep me busy and Tim calls atleast 3 times a day. So basically, Tim has worked his ass off this year. He already qualifies for the big Christmas bonus and it is no where near Christmas. Most drivers will work too hard between Labor Day and Christmas to get in the quota of trips to qualify for the bonus in December.
Today, I went to pick up his check. Not only did he have his vacation pay but also had a safety bonus and all of this in addition to his regular pay. It was a very good check and I almost passed out. Anyway, I was debating between new towels and a couple more rugs when it dawned on me that my husband works extremely hard and I am the one who has racked up in the last 4 months, really the last year. So I'm recalling, during the drive to the bank, of the things that I've gotten in the last year and the things that he has gotten in the last year.
Me : car that is completely paid for and dependable, TV in bedroom, Dish Network to view on said TV, a huge brick house with paved driveway and hardwood floors, a super groovy rug for the living room in said house, a cellphone with picture capability and every other little thing that holds no comparison to the above items but are equally as important.
Him : ok so the car, TV, Dish Network, house and rug he benefits from but he works so hard that he can't enjoy them.
So I'm feeling really bad and decide not to spend his hard earned money on something that I want, but something that he wants instead. The shopping spree ended for me and I bought my husband something that he has wanted for a long time, something that he has never owned before and something that most men measure their worthiness by:
a riding lawn mower.
He is going to be pleased!
in search of the skinny...
You should all know, by now, that I have received a brand spanking new Gazelle. The Gazelle has been assembled and this morning, I got up at the ass crack of dawn, on my own, and did my workout. Before I provide the hilarious details, let's explore a few words.
According to Webster Dictionary
Main Entry: ga·zelle
Inflected Form(s): plural gazelles also gazelle
Etymology: French, from Middle French, from Arabic ghazAl
: any of numerous small to medium graceful and swift African and Asian antelopes (Gazella and related genera)
Main Entry: free·style
Usage: often attributive
1 : a competition in which the contestant is given more latitude than in related events; especially : swimming competition in which the swimmer may use any stroke
2 : CRAWL 2
- free·styl·er noun
Main Entry: elite
Pronunciation: A-'lEt, i-, E-
Etymology: French élite, from Old French eslite, from feminine of eslit, past participle of eslire to choose, from Latin eligere
1 a singular or plural in construction : the choice part : CREAM b singular or plural in construction : the best of a class c singular or plural in construction : the socially superior part of society d : a group of persons who by virtue of position or education exercise much power or influence e : a member of such an elite -- usually used in plural
2 : a typewriter type providing 12 characters to the linear inch
- elite adjective
Main Entry: work·out
1 : a practice or exercise to test or improve one's fitness for athletic competition, ability, or performance
2 : a test of one's ability, capacity, stamina, or suitability
18 entries found for fat. The first 10 are listed below.
To select an entry, click on it. For more results, click here.
fat[1,adjective]fat[2,transitive verb]fat[3,noun]brown fatchew[1,verb]deep fatfat bodyfat catfat cellfat depot
Main Entry: 3fat
1 : animal tissue consisting chiefly of cells distended with greasy or oily matter
2 a : oily or greasy matter making up the bulk of adipose tissue and often abundant in seeds b : any of numerous compounds of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen that are glycerides of fatty acids, are the chief constituents of plant and animal fat, are a major class of energy-rich food, and are soluble in organic solvents but not in water c : a solid or semisolid fat as distinguished from an oil
3 : the best or richest part
4 : OBESITY
5 : something in excess : SUPERFLUITY
- fat·less /-l&s/ adjective
This morning, at 6:00am, I rolled out of bed and stretched my legs into my addidas pants and a sports bra. This is a very scary outfit to see me in but the only one that was awake was Justin and he didn't seem to mind. I turned on the coffee pot and went into the living room, where my Gazelle is set up properly (including the power pistons that put resistance into the workout) in front of the big screen tv. Last night, I set the vcr up and placed the workout video in it, so that all I would have to do this morning is climb on my Gazelle Freestyle Elite and turn on the tv. Once on the Gazelle, I turned on the tv and vcr and pressed play on the remote strategically placed on the shelf beside of the Gazelle. Off I went, with a 2 minute warm-up, that isn't included in on the 10 minute workout for beginners. According to this video, anyone who does not participate in exercise regularly is a beginner. Aside from chasing kids, I do not participate in regular activity thus making me a beginner. Throughout the workout, I could only think about how annoying this Tony Little guy is. He designed the Gazelle and personally does the workout videos. Doesn't he look annoying?
Once the workout started, I managed to keep up with Tony Little's exact steps for about the first 2 minutes. The sweat started pouring from my brow, my limbs slick with sweat, almost out of breath and 2 minutes later (4 minutes total)I was counting down to 10 minutes and dreading the remaining 6 minutes, no longer able to keep up with his exact steps but I managed to stay close. At this point, Justin is laughing at me and my inability to breath properly and replace actual breaths with pants instead. He even made the, "whoa, never heard you pant before," comment. Gee thanks for the support Justin. Despite my obvious struggle with breathing, I managed to get a "fuck you" out between gasps of air. He grinned at me largely and decided to stay quiet for another minute. During this minute I began constructing a puddle of sweat beneath me. There is nothing more annoying than feeling sweat run down the inside of your thighs while you are trying to do something, trust me on this one, and not being able to get your breath when breathing is a necessity for the activity that is causing you to sweat so profusely. Justin, bless is little heart that I plan on ripping out when he gets home from work, tried to encourage my slowing being by becoming my lamaze coach, "breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out." Ok, so it did help and I was able to stay focused for the remaining 4 minutes of the 10 minute beginners workout. With 3 minutes left, I started regretting the power pistons on the first workout and began rethinking the workout without them. My entire body is drenched in its own fluid, if it were possible to drown, I would have. My breathing has leveled off to the point that I could make 3 or 4 word sentences and according to Mr. Little, that is exactly where it should be. With 2 minutes to go, I was able to exactly match Tony's steps again and was feeling very confident about the entire process. Just when I got the hang of things, "Beginners cool down for 2 - 3 minutes and take pulse" came on the screen. Thank God! I used the 3 minutes to slowly, but progressively slow down. Due to my desire to do this workout right, I had already watched the video completely and learned to cool down and stretch after a workout. I cooled down, stretched and stopped on the machine for a minute of reflection before getting off. Key questions to answer:
How do I feel?
A. Sticky, thankful that I have my breath back, but overall very okay.
Did anything in particular hurt?
A. While still on the machine, I could feel nothing pulled, burning, out of place or under unusual stress. Upon getting off, I got the same sensation that you do when you get off of a treadmill and it took a moment for me to get my "land legs" back but nothing hurt.
At what point did I feel a physical difference after the workout?
A. LOWER BODY - That would be when I tried going downstairs with a full laundry basket of dirty laundry and my legs didn't want to cooperate. Luckily, I didn't drop the basket or fall down the stairs but it was a challenge. UPPER BODY - Oh yes, when picking up Nicholas for the first time today and my arms tried to rebel.
When will I put myself through this again?
A. 6:00AM tomorrow morning.
Why will I put myself through this again?
A. To misplace my fat, gain muscle and hopefully lean this 24 year old body back into my school girl figure, or better.
What are my goals?
A. Lose excess body fat and get my percentage down to the average for women - 13-25%. Preferably closer to the 13% since I am through with having children and no longer need the excess to support my body during child bearing.
Tone up. I have thigh flab to my knees, belly where my thighs should be and my arm waves bye-bye for too many moments after I stop waving.
Feel better. Emotionally, of course. It is a proven scientific fact that regular exercise releases stress.
When was the last time you worked out? For how long? What duration of time did your workout routine sustain?
~~feels like a woman
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Justin aka "Justin Case"
10 *deep breath* 9 *deep breath*...
Ok, the breathing still doesn't work for me. Due to my still-pissed-off-state-of-mind, I decided to take a nap with Nicholas. Cuddling with my baby seems to always make my day better and it was working until I heard a glitch in the cable and then nothing. I reach over to the bedside table and grab my glasses, once in place and I could see, I looked at the tv screen to read that I needed to call Dish Network. Both of my feet hit the floor at the same time and I could feel my anger coming back with a vengeance like the firery pits of hell. Before calling Dish Network, I checked to make sure that I had paid my bill last month and checked the current balance on our account. I paid my bill 8 days early last month and my balance was actually a credit of $2.38. All I could think about while waiting for a customer service representative to answer my call in the order it was received was, "why would they interrupt my service if I have paid my bills on time, every time and there is a credit to our account?" This is the exact question that I ask the non-English speaking woman that answered my call. I was told that my account had a brief interruption in service to prompt my calling them to verify my billing address due to them receiving my last bill back from the post office.
"You're kidding me right? Regardless of where my bill goes, I know exactly how much I owe and I do believe I have done a damned good job of keeping my account current without a mailed bill to look at. Because we are on auto-pay, we don't receive paper bills and now my service has been interrupted for this bullshit. This is what you are going to do, you are going to give me an additional credit on my account for the unnecessary lapse in viewability and if you can not do that, transfer me to your supervisor and let your supervisor know that I do not enjoy being on hold." I said and you would be so proud of the tone of voice that I used with this woman.
"Yes ma'am, transferring." She was really polite, this may be why I was so patient with her.
"Hello Mrs. S, my associate tells me that you have had an interruption of service due to our wanting to update your records with us. Please accept my deepest apology and a $30 credit to your account that will be effective today. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Funny, I was only on hold long enough to cough.
"Thank you and yes there is." Here I go, "Please make a large bulletin on my account that advises anyone that looks at my account on your computer system that reads, "Do not interrupt service unless payment is overdue." If my service is interrupted for anything but my being overdue, I will receive 6 months of Dish Network free. This not only cost me 3 hours of viewing time but it also upset me to the point that I am now pissed off at everything and this interrupted my nap time with my infant. My time is not cheap."
"Yes, ma'am, anything else?"
"No, not at all, have a nice day."
After this conversation, I flopped down in my office chair and stared at nothing while I sucked down a cigarette, all in an attempt to calm down a little. It was at that moment that I realized that there was a package sitting on my desk that UPS had delivered earlier and I had not opened it yet. On August 28, 2004, I ordered Bona Hardwood Floor Cleaner from Heritage Hardwood Floors
via internet. The process was simple, easy and stress-free. In addition to this unusually pleasant ordering experience, I expected to receive this package of ordered goods in 5 -7 business days and it came on the fourth. My order was correct, not damaged, complete and I didn't have to raise one second of hell to get it that way. Attached to the package was this letter:
Dear Mr. S,
Thanks for the order.
Your business is greatly appreciated. I realize that you have many choices of where to shop, and I am glad that you selected us and hope that you will visit us again soon.
I am always adding new hardwood flooring information and new products to my online store.
Please visit us again, your comments and suggestions are welcome. Remember, we're always just a click or call away.
In response to this letter, I wrote and sent the following e-mail:
Thank you Hal,
We received our product today via UPS. You can expect future business with
us as you are the first company that we have purchased from online and NOT
had some sort of problem with it. Thanks for the great service.
See, I'm not always bad. I give credit when credit is due. My husband says that I am too old fashioned for the fast pace of the world today. I still believe that no customer is more important than another and in order to survive in a business situation, you must treat every customer as if it were your only customer. This is probably why my customers are faithful to my little company.
Just for Hima
Which one of us is the "damn" cat?
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
not all is lost...
My day wasn't a complete bitchfest. Have confidence in me dear blogger, I may not have a "therapist" but I have extended my support group. For some strange reason, maybe it isn't so strange, I instantly feel better about everything when I sit in front of my computer and read about your lives. I forget about my aggression, anger and whatever happened in my life that day. There are only 4 people in my life that can do this for me but it isn't as instant as my nights blogging: my mom, my husband and my 2 children. Ok, somehow that looks pathetic, oh well. Alas, since my regular visited blogs haven't posted something new for me to read, I went on a quest to extend my reaches. I've found two of the grooviest blogs that I've seen.
The first that I found is Cheaper Than Therapy
. Let's face it, just the name of it is what we all seek, SOMETHING cheaper than therapy and more effective too. So I'll give you a taste of what made me decide to keep current with this blog:
"Tuesday, August 24, 2004
This date will go down in history as The Day of the Jackhole.
I went to the credit union to get a replacement debit card, since I've misplaced mine and I'll need one for vacation spending. As I stood in line, I could tell that I wasn't going to get the Nice Teller. I ended up in front of the Attitude Problem Teller and explained my situation.
APT: Why do you need a new card?
Me: I've misplaced mine somewhere in the house.
APT: Have you reported it stolen?
Me: It wasn't stolen. It's in my house somewhere.
APT: If it wasn't stolen, then where is it?
About ten minutes later, she decided that I wasn't going to leave her station, so she picked up the phone and, in less than sixty seconds, placed a new card on order for me. Then, without saying another word to me, hollered, "NEXT!""
The reason that I like this so much is because it is the exact same principle response that I would have given the teller, only mine is the X rated version. Perhaps by following this chick's blog, I'll learn how to get my point across without getting pissed off at the world in the process. I bet her secret isn't counting backwards from 20 and taking a deep breath in between numbers. Perhaps I'll ask her some day.
The Second Blog that I found was
My Expatriate Odyssey
. This man strikes my fancy because I have a step brother that lives in Frankfurt that I've never seen, touched, spoke and only once wrote to. My step brother has lived in Germany since he was born. I've always wondered, from time to time, how different his life is. This blog is just enough of a window to see how things work in Germany. Conceivably, my imagination may become closer to fiction. Here's an excerpt:
Svetlana Khorkina, the anorexic looking Russian gymnast is P.O’ed. Like who didn’t see it on her face after watching an American teenybopper, Carly Patterson strip her of Olympic glory.
As I sat watching the climax of the Olympic Gymnastics with my wife I said “look at the Russian chick’s face…she’s pissed.”
The Europsort guys didn’t think so. They called it “disappointment” and were bragging about what a good sport Khorkina was. Apparently they didn’t see what I saw. During the little hugsy-kissey thing women do after competition, Khorkina whispered something in little Carly Patterson’s ear, and judging from the shocked/angered expression on Carly’s face, I don’t think the Russian said “way to go girl”.
Anyway, Khorkina is letting it all hang out now. She feels she was robbed of her rightful title by America loving judges. “I think it's because I'm from Russia, not from America!" she said.
Khorkina—for those of you who don’t know—posed in the Russian edition of Playboy (Russian men like their women looking hungry).
I’m waiting. I’m being patient. Maybe four years from now in Bejing things will get interesting. I can see it now. The Americans are about to strip the Chinese of a disserved gold medal and some little under fed Chinese pixie comes over and delivers a kung fu punch to one of the American gymnasts then says something in Chinese that means basically the same as “Bitch”! At that point, female gymnastics will have picked up a large population of male viewers. Hey…it would be good for the sport!
Speaking of pixies… for all the talk about doping scandals, somebody please explain to me the pre-teen anatomy of an 18 year old gymnast…seriously! The way I see it, there are three possibilities; 1) Some countries purposely enlist little girls with stunted growth into their gymnastics program. 2) The “18” year old gymnast is actually 10. 3) They’re taking some sort of anti-growth drug.
Blog word of the day : Conceivably
I fired my therapist...
With all of the things occurring in my life the way that they were, I decided a few months ago to seek professional help do deal with it. I've had a couple of appointments and I had 4 scheduled appointments to go in this cycle. I didn't blog about it for its obvious personal reasons but now I must. I sought the help of this therapist because I have a very hard time controlling my anger. It doesn't take much for an adult to piss me off to the point that I could choke them to death. Children are in a category all their own and I rarely loose my temper with them. When I do lose my temper with kids, I almost always either yell at them to go to their room or put them in the corner. This condition started after the death of my daughter. I never dealt with her death in an appropriate way. Instead, I drank heavily for a year and then bottled every emotion up inside of me.
My therapist, on the first visit, performed an evaluation test. If it were possible to flunk this test, I did. The results of the test revealed that I have an anger problem, social anxiety and a dangerous form of fearlessness. She explained to me that I needed medication to level me out so that therapy would sink deep into my head and hopefully give me skills to deal with my problems. She also suggested group therapy. Due to these 2 statements, I did not want to go back. I have very good reasons as to why.
I'm a breastfeeding mother and there are only a limited number of medications that will not interfere with milk production or that are passed through to the child.
I don't like pills, never have and never will. (I barely used pain medication after a C-Section due to this.)
Group therapy won't work for me because:
I have buried these feelings, in public, for 5 years and appeared to be normal to every person that I came in contact with. If I were a social kind of person, it wouldn't have taken me 5 years to decide that I have a problem and seek help for it. I would close back up in a group therapy situation.Duh, I have social anxiety.
I did go back for that second appointment, just to give it a go. We explored further into my background and current feelings. She is not a very good listener and interrupted every chance that she got. The fact that I had to be locked onto her eyes, looking into my eyes, for the entire hour session didn't turn me onto her either. We worked on techniques to control my anger towards adults too. She suggested that I count backwards from 10, taking deep breaths between numbers until I calmed down and was able to communicate. Ok, if you haven't guessed, this woman isn't much of a therapist. She's either retarded or just stupid because counting does not work. If counting worked, I would have kicked so many people's asses through the years. I walked away thinking that I was wasting my time but made 4 additional appointments, just to try to receive this professional help.
Today, I got a call from my therapists receptionist.
"Hello Mrs. S, I'm E from Dr. H's office. She is going to be away for your next 2 scheduled appointments and ask me to call to reschedule your appointments." She sounded as if she really hated her job.
"Okay." I was rolling my eyes at this point.
"How does Sept 27 at 5:00pm sound?" still sounding enthusiastic.
"Um, it doesn't sound good at all. I need Mondays or Tuesdays only and only between 9:30am and 1:00pm." I tried to make my point without being bitchy about it.
"Oh, that is a problem, let me check -- long pause -- ok, October 24th at 10:00am."
"That's over 2 months from my last appointment, isn't there something sooner?" *GEEZ*
"I'm sorry, that's the closest that I have unless there is a cancellation, it will just have to do you."
"Are you getting an attitude with me?"
"Well no but I can if you wish me to."
"Hold up bitch! You call me to reschedule, you get an attitude when I tell you the times that are convenient to me and now you are mouthing off at me? Can't you see on my chart that I have a fucking problem controlling my God damned anger? I don't know who the fuck you think you are but you have barked up the wrong damn tree. I'll have your ass bitch. *click*" whew, I feel better but the bitch hung up on me. I was so not satisfied with that, so I call back.
"Good afternoon, Dr. H's office," A different chick blurted.
"I need to speak with Dr. H please."
"Dr. H is with a patient, may I take a message?"
"You most certainly may, are you ready?" Up until now, I was using a very sweet voice.
"Yes Ma'am, I'm ready." She cheerfully said.
"Ok - short pause - This is Mrs. S and I just got off of the phone with E who had called me to reschedule my next 2 scheduled appointments but she got an attitude with me and now I am so fucking pissed that I am about to come down there and rip her guts through her asshole and wring them around her neck so that she will know in the future not to talk to me like I'm a fucking dog. Dr. H can call me in less than 5 minutes or I'll be coming to that office to treat E to a hand made enema and then I'll bend over so that Dr. H can kiss my ass." I took a breathe. "Got that?"
"y-y-yyes" she said, stuttering.
I was and still am pissed about the entire situation. Needless to say, Dr. H called me back almost immediately.
"April, this is Dr. H and I am so sorry that E talked to you in a way that you did not like but I'm sure we can talk you out of this aggressive period. Take a deep breath and count with me..." As if!
"*deep breathe*10 *deep breath* 9 *deep breath* 8 *deep breath* 7 *deep breath*" I'm sure you get the point but I went all of the way down to 1.
Then she said, "Now, doesn't that feel better?"
"um, no, I still want to gut E and bend over for your ignorant ass so that you can kiss my ass." I replied.
"I'm not sure that I can help you April, your anger is certainly worse than I imagined." She stuttered out.
"I'm glad that you have enough of a fucking brain to realize that your pussy techniques will not work for someone with real aggression issues. I'm firing your incompetent ass. Cancel every appointment that I have with you and jump off of the first bridge you pass because you are the most pathetic excuse for a therapist that I have ever came in contact with. If your office contacts me again, I will press harassment charges against the lot of you. Have a nice day. *click*"
I gave it a go and throughout my entire therapy experience, I finally got the relief that I was looking for when I gave that stupid hoochie a piece of my mind. I picture her still holding a beeping phone and crying. That makes me happy.
~~still pissed though
|design by April|