Since May of 2005 my mom's health has been failing. It's like the doctor's touch one thing and the next thing you know another thing goes wrong in her poor body. May 19th she under went gall bladder surgery to remove that stone filled organ. We all thought that this was going to be easy. Boy were we wrong.
Instead Mom ended up in more pain than ever before. It was awful to watch her. Mom was in agony. So Monday she had blood tests. Tuesday she had an MRI. Wednesday Mom had two tests run: Hyde-a-scan and a CT (Cat scan); Thursday brought another round of blood tests. I failed to mention that Mom was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday. Friday Mom went back into the operating room. Hopefully this will be the end to all the troubles.
A week ago I was hoping that the surgeon could take the gall bladder out by way of laproscopy. Now I wish I never hoped such a thing. Funny, the old saying, "Be careful what you wish for.", certainly resonates around here. Now, I wish that they had just opened up the old girl and taken care of everything all at once. OH WELL, hindsight's twenty/twenty.
I remember back to when Passionfruit's mother started getting sick. Passionfruit kept a detailed log of everything that happened. When my Dad got sick I remember I marked things down on the calendar. I kept that calendar. I'm not doing that with Mom. I don't know why. I've pondered this. Could it be that I don't want to acknowledge my mother's mortality? Do I think if I don't record all this Mom won't get worse? Then again I seem to be logging it here. Hmmm.
Well I'm happy to report that Mom has moved from the Intermediate Care to a regular surgical floor. I don't like the Intermediate Care. It's noisy and smells bad. I/I reported that Mom is in a private room. I hope this helps Mom. I know she dreads room mates after the one she had during the colon surgery episode. For those that don't know Mom had a room mate that was crazy. The woman kept ripping the IVs out of her hands, and Mom felt threatened by her.
So let us hope that this is the end of Mom's medical adventures for awhile.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
My manifesto
Years ago I stopped shaving my legs. I have never regreted this action. In fact I feel a sense of liberation, I also do not wear make-up. This leads to a sense of liberation. It also sets me apart from the majority of women in this part of the country.
To give you an example, for the past 6 months, I've been taking my mother to get her hair done weekly at what is the local "Clip an' Curl". Last week I went with my small daughters to give their grandma her Mother's day gift a few days late. Well it is darn hot here of late I and I think summer has set in early this year. I was dressed in a pair slacks that came down to just below my knees. Cowgirl says to me, "GIRL! I thought my legs were bad. You need to shave them legs!"
Now, perhaps my response wasn't what it should have been. Since my girls were with me perhaps I should have demonstrated constraint and grace. But no, this did not happen, instead I regaled the ladies with my manifesto. I believe that our society is a pedaphile society. I mean we expect women to maintain the weight of young girls. We demand that the legs and arm pits of women should look like the limbs of girls. I went on to explain to the ladies present that real women have curves. Real women have a certain amount of body fat, if not then the body doesn't work right. Real women have hair on their legs and arm pits.
Well needless to say that the room was silent in shock and horror. I had put a name on society, an ugly, nasty name. I had shocked the sensiblities of these women. What's worse I accused them indirectly of participating in this ugliness. But I'm sorry, you rude enough to mention my legs which haven't seen a razor in a couple of decades you can hear and deal with my manifesto.
To give you an example, for the past 6 months, I've been taking my mother to get her hair done weekly at what is the local "Clip an' Curl". Last week I went with my small daughters to give their grandma her Mother's day gift a few days late. Well it is darn hot here of late I and I think summer has set in early this year. I was dressed in a pair slacks that came down to just below my knees. Cowgirl says to me, "GIRL! I thought my legs were bad. You need to shave them legs!"
Now, perhaps my response wasn't what it should have been. Since my girls were with me perhaps I should have demonstrated constraint and grace. But no, this did not happen, instead I regaled the ladies with my manifesto. I believe that our society is a pedaphile society. I mean we expect women to maintain the weight of young girls. We demand that the legs and arm pits of women should look like the limbs of girls. I went on to explain to the ladies present that real women have curves. Real women have a certain amount of body fat, if not then the body doesn't work right. Real women have hair on their legs and arm pits.
Well needless to say that the room was silent in shock and horror. I had put a name on society, an ugly, nasty name. I had shocked the sensiblities of these women. What's worse I accused them indirectly of participating in this ugliness. But I'm sorry, you rude enough to mention my legs which haven't seen a razor in a couple of decades you can hear and deal with my manifesto.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Arrogant:
I've had a difficult time thinking of something to write in this blog. I did a really great one about my family but I felt that the sentiments expressed were far too personal to allow just anyone to read. But you really have to believe it was one of my best pieces.
Now I have a topic: arrogant behavior. According to American Heritage dictionary arrogant is an adjective meaning: Overly convinced of one's own importance; overbearingly proud; haughty.
Why?, you might ask do I write about this topic. Well let me tell you about what I saw this weekend that pretty much made me determine that this was the problem with our world today. WE all SUFFER from arrogance. My evidence is in the three seperate vehicle accidents I saw on Friday. The first was a scene where most of the accident was cleared off the road but the last vehicle that remained was a black pickup truck. It was inmovable due to the fact the engine was gone! Smashed to smeethereens! Now this accident happened on a road that the speed limit is fairly fast (4omile an hour) but for this amount of destruction I seriously believe that they had to have been going far more than that. My second exhibit for my case was a double accident on the interstate. Posted speed limit is 60 miles an hour. Several vehicles involved in each accident. Two were pickup trucks. One truck was bent into a check mark; the other was bent in a converse fashion to the other. The cause of this accident I'm sure was a couple of things. It is plain just a bad spot. Traffic converges there. People are entering the interstate. Folks are trying to exist the interstate to meet up with another, and others are just plain trying to get through the mess. But see this is where arrogance comes into play. No one wants to yield to the next guy. Everyone thinks that they are so important that to allow someone to go in front of them is a terrible inconvience. We are not a nation that knows how to yield.
Look at how we view our world. We cannot concieve that other people do not think like us. We value, respect and demand individuality and independence out of our citizentry. When we run across cultures that do not value these things we think them backwards and odd. Often these very cultures that are so different from our own see individuality and independence as abhorrent to society. They are actually viewed as a deteriment to society. Who's to say we're right and their wrong or vice a versa.
After the last few days, I think, I'm willing to say that there should be a limit to our individuality and independence. Becoming a mother has changed my perspective on the world so profoundly that I am far more humble than I used to be. For example, I would far prefer allowing you to go ahead of me. I no longer speed and feel impatient most of the time I'm in my car. (I will admit that there are still times I'm impatient. It is a character flaw.) My safety and the safety of my children are the most important thing to me. I've got to be there for them.
So I am appealing to you! Please practice a bit of humbleness the next time you are in your car. Your life is a precious thing; protect it. Needless to say that the next person's life is just as valuable. They maybe racing to work to write down the formula that is going to develop the cure for AIDS or cancer so make allowances for the next guy.
Now I have a topic: arrogant behavior. According to American Heritage dictionary arrogant is an adjective meaning: Overly convinced of one's own importance; overbearingly proud; haughty.
Why?, you might ask do I write about this topic. Well let me tell you about what I saw this weekend that pretty much made me determine that this was the problem with our world today. WE all SUFFER from arrogance. My evidence is in the three seperate vehicle accidents I saw on Friday. The first was a scene where most of the accident was cleared off the road but the last vehicle that remained was a black pickup truck. It was inmovable due to the fact the engine was gone! Smashed to smeethereens! Now this accident happened on a road that the speed limit is fairly fast (4omile an hour) but for this amount of destruction I seriously believe that they had to have been going far more than that. My second exhibit for my case was a double accident on the interstate. Posted speed limit is 60 miles an hour. Several vehicles involved in each accident. Two were pickup trucks. One truck was bent into a check mark; the other was bent in a converse fashion to the other. The cause of this accident I'm sure was a couple of things. It is plain just a bad spot. Traffic converges there. People are entering the interstate. Folks are trying to exist the interstate to meet up with another, and others are just plain trying to get through the mess. But see this is where arrogance comes into play. No one wants to yield to the next guy. Everyone thinks that they are so important that to allow someone to go in front of them is a terrible inconvience. We are not a nation that knows how to yield.
Look at how we view our world. We cannot concieve that other people do not think like us. We value, respect and demand individuality and independence out of our citizentry. When we run across cultures that do not value these things we think them backwards and odd. Often these very cultures that are so different from our own see individuality and independence as abhorrent to society. They are actually viewed as a deteriment to society. Who's to say we're right and their wrong or vice a versa.
After the last few days, I think, I'm willing to say that there should be a limit to our individuality and independence. Becoming a mother has changed my perspective on the world so profoundly that I am far more humble than I used to be. For example, I would far prefer allowing you to go ahead of me. I no longer speed and feel impatient most of the time I'm in my car. (I will admit that there are still times I'm impatient. It is a character flaw.) My safety and the safety of my children are the most important thing to me. I've got to be there for them.
So I am appealing to you! Please practice a bit of humbleness the next time you are in your car. Your life is a precious thing; protect it. Needless to say that the next person's life is just as valuable. They maybe racing to work to write down the formula that is going to develop the cure for AIDS or cancer so make allowances for the next guy.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Driving and Walt Disney
Lately my children get into the car with me. Nothing strange there, right? As we progress closer to our destination out of the back I hear strains of a song that sounds vaguely familiar yet totally foreign.
Wracking my brain I realize my children are singing a whacked out version of "Staying alive" from the Bee Gees. Something like this, "Staying ala, staying ala. Ahh. Ahh. Ahh. Staying ala." No matter how many times I try to correct them they gleefully continue with the former manifestation. Now I'll admit I like the Bee Gees, I'm either dating myself or revealing my nerdiness. I don't care, either way I like them. However, despite the fact that I like them I do not own any CDs, LPs or audiocassettes by the Bee Gees. I don't know where they've picked it up. I don't like what my children have done to this song.
Once again I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out where they possibly picked up this little nugget of the late 70s, early 80s. Ohh!!!!!!!!!! Chicken Little. Walt Disney animation has the insanely shaped pig, Runt, singing it while he is running around space ship scared out of his mind. Now I'm sure they stuck it in there to appeal to the parents of the wee ones they are marketing to to keep their interest in this silly movie but I'm not sure I like the end results. Why do they have to go and ruin a song for me. I'm sure I will be lying on my death bed hearing the sweet voices of my children singing, "Staying ala, staying ala...". God save me!!!!!!!!!!
Wracking my brain I realize my children are singing a whacked out version of "Staying alive" from the Bee Gees. Something like this, "Staying ala, staying ala. Ahh. Ahh. Ahh. Staying ala." No matter how many times I try to correct them they gleefully continue with the former manifestation. Now I'll admit I like the Bee Gees, I'm either dating myself or revealing my nerdiness. I don't care, either way I like them. However, despite the fact that I like them I do not own any CDs, LPs or audiocassettes by the Bee Gees. I don't know where they've picked it up. I don't like what my children have done to this song.
Once again I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out where they possibly picked up this little nugget of the late 70s, early 80s. Ohh!!!!!!!!!! Chicken Little. Walt Disney animation has the insanely shaped pig, Runt, singing it while he is running around space ship scared out of his mind. Now I'm sure they stuck it in there to appeal to the parents of the wee ones they are marketing to to keep their interest in this silly movie but I'm not sure I like the end results. Why do they have to go and ruin a song for me. I'm sure I will be lying on my death bed hearing the sweet voices of my children singing, "Staying ala, staying ala...". God save me!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Sisters
I have some of the best sisters in the world. Each of them have been there for me at various times. Sister sister is the calming force in my life. She's also the doom and gloom sister. Sister sister is also silly and funny.
But my sister, I don't get mad; I get even, is the rock. I gave birth twice and I don't know how I would have done it with out her by my side. Our mother certainly wasn't going to be there. If I had to characterize I/I, I would have to say that she is my knight in shining armour. She has always come forward and fought for me.
When I was staying at home with the girls it was I/I that made the tough days easier. I/I always supported my choice to stay home and care for my children. I remember when Storyteller was just an infant and she would start to cry for no reason. ST would cry and cry without letting up. Noo, she wasn't colicy. Storyteller was plain cranky. I would call I/I up grasping for some adult interaction before I went crazy. It was I/I that came up with the solution-- take her outside. It always worked. Storyteller would calm down and stop crying for a while no matter the weather.
Another time that I/I was there for me was getting the nursery ready for Drama Queen. There I was all alone in that house waiting for Passionfruit to come home with DQ. All I had to do was pull the nursery together. Easy huh? No, not when you are pregnant, scared and worried. In rides, I/I to save the day. I/I brought over Tex. Between the three of us we pulled that nursery together one Saturday. I/I even made the curtains for that room. Even though we've moved to a new house I simply can't get rid of those curtains.
Looking back, I remember when I/I married Cowboy. I wasn't happy but it turns out the Cowboy is a good guy afterall. Plus he makes a mean margarita. Thanksgiving last year I/I, Cowboy and Tex came to my house early; they helped out alot. Then I/I took mom back over to her house for the procedure that needs done about once a week, Cowboy was left behind. Cowboy helped out in the kitchen and I really enjoyed working with him. He can cook in my kitchen anytime. What a joy to ask for something be done without having to go into detail about how to accomplish the task.
When I was in college I had a professor that tried to get "to know" me better by flunking me and encouraging me to visit with him after hours. Well I decided that I would try to drop the class. I needed his signature to do that so I had to go to his office. I/I went with me. She coached me on what to do and what not to do. Turns out that he tried to do every one of the things she warned about. I/I not only coached but she was there to support me.
I admire my sister, I/I. She is so much I will never be. Though we may at times see things differently I know that I/I will always be there for me no matter what. I thank God for my sisters.
But my sister, I don't get mad; I get even, is the rock. I gave birth twice and I don't know how I would have done it with out her by my side. Our mother certainly wasn't going to be there. If I had to characterize I/I, I would have to say that she is my knight in shining armour. She has always come forward and fought for me.
When I was staying at home with the girls it was I/I that made the tough days easier. I/I always supported my choice to stay home and care for my children. I remember when Storyteller was just an infant and she would start to cry for no reason. ST would cry and cry without letting up. Noo, she wasn't colicy. Storyteller was plain cranky. I would call I/I up grasping for some adult interaction before I went crazy. It was I/I that came up with the solution-- take her outside. It always worked. Storyteller would calm down and stop crying for a while no matter the weather.
Another time that I/I was there for me was getting the nursery ready for Drama Queen. There I was all alone in that house waiting for Passionfruit to come home with DQ. All I had to do was pull the nursery together. Easy huh? No, not when you are pregnant, scared and worried. In rides, I/I to save the day. I/I brought over Tex. Between the three of us we pulled that nursery together one Saturday. I/I even made the curtains for that room. Even though we've moved to a new house I simply can't get rid of those curtains.
Looking back, I remember when I/I married Cowboy. I wasn't happy but it turns out the Cowboy is a good guy afterall. Plus he makes a mean margarita. Thanksgiving last year I/I, Cowboy and Tex came to my house early; they helped out alot. Then I/I took mom back over to her house for the procedure that needs done about once a week, Cowboy was left behind. Cowboy helped out in the kitchen and I really enjoyed working with him. He can cook in my kitchen anytime. What a joy to ask for something be done without having to go into detail about how to accomplish the task.
When I was in college I had a professor that tried to get "to know" me better by flunking me and encouraging me to visit with him after hours. Well I decided that I would try to drop the class. I needed his signature to do that so I had to go to his office. I/I went with me. She coached me on what to do and what not to do. Turns out that he tried to do every one of the things she warned about. I/I not only coached but she was there to support me.
I admire my sister, I/I. She is so much I will never be. Though we may at times see things differently I know that I/I will always be there for me no matter what. I thank God for my sisters.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Mother's day... It must have been a man
It must have been a man who thought up mother's day. I'm not even going to honor it with the correct capitalization. See, I'm a relatively new mom (I've only celebrated 5 of them). I'm rethinking the use of the word celebrate. I think the appropriate word would be SUFFERED. For the first few years Passionfruit would leave me in the evenings to go off to work. In that time I suffered temper tantrums that lasted for hours non-stop and constant bickering among the children every year.
I remember my first mother's day. Drama Queen spent the evening hours crying inconsolably for hours on end. She would drag her face across the floor. If I tried to pick her up and hold her it only made it worse. She would struggle and flail until I finally put her down. These were times that got me so worried. Was I missing something? Did DQ have problems with attachment disorder? I really didn't think so but this particular night I certainly wondered about it.
Finally, after trying everything I could think of, I joined her in the crying. I just sat down and bawled myself silly. I have no memory what Storyteller was doing that night but she would have been small enough not to have any memories of it. DQ doesn't remember it either.
After yesterday, my naive dream of mother's day getting better after the kids are older died. I got to witness my sister, "I don't get mad; I get even", tear my ailing mother down last night. I worry about "I don't get mad; I get even". She sooo projected all of her fears on to Sister, Sister last night. She really hurt Sister, Sister's feelings. Not to mention the fact that when I asked mom if I could borrow one of her cars I/I went and threw a temper tantrum because mom told her to give back the car they were borrowing. They've had it for half a year now. And, of course, my own kids spent the day fighting among themselves.
So instead of having a restive, peaceful weekend I am totally drained. I am not physically tired but I am exhausted. I feel like a wash rag all wrung out.
Late in the evening Passionfruit came to me and asked me if we could post pone mother's day. The kids apparently never got a chance to finish signing my card and of course, whatever he planned to give me did not happen either due to all the activity of the weekend. Like I've told my friends before mother's day is not for mothers it is for the kids.
Oh yes, "Happy mother's day everyone!" NOT!
I remember my first mother's day. Drama Queen spent the evening hours crying inconsolably for hours on end. She would drag her face across the floor. If I tried to pick her up and hold her it only made it worse. She would struggle and flail until I finally put her down. These were times that got me so worried. Was I missing something? Did DQ have problems with attachment disorder? I really didn't think so but this particular night I certainly wondered about it.
Finally, after trying everything I could think of, I joined her in the crying. I just sat down and bawled myself silly. I have no memory what Storyteller was doing that night but she would have been small enough not to have any memories of it. DQ doesn't remember it either.
After yesterday, my naive dream of mother's day getting better after the kids are older died. I got to witness my sister, "I don't get mad; I get even", tear my ailing mother down last night. I worry about "I don't get mad; I get even". She sooo projected all of her fears on to Sister, Sister last night. She really hurt Sister, Sister's feelings. Not to mention the fact that when I asked mom if I could borrow one of her cars I/I went and threw a temper tantrum because mom told her to give back the car they were borrowing. They've had it for half a year now. And, of course, my own kids spent the day fighting among themselves.
So instead of having a restive, peaceful weekend I am totally drained. I am not physically tired but I am exhausted. I feel like a wash rag all wrung out.
Late in the evening Passionfruit came to me and asked me if we could post pone mother's day. The kids apparently never got a chance to finish signing my card and of course, whatever he planned to give me did not happen either due to all the activity of the weekend. Like I've told my friends before mother's day is not for mothers it is for the kids.
Oh yes, "Happy mother's day everyone!" NOT!
Saturday, May 13, 2006
:-) "Hi!!! How are you?!!? :-)
Two phone calls today! Two phone calls today started pretty much like the above. The people on the end were falsely cheerful which of course in my pessimistic mind means trouble. Of course I am right... there is trouble.
First my sister calls and tells me that everthing is alright with mom but... Sister Sister then goes on to tell me she had just spent the morning with mom in the emergency room. Mom's okay except that she's doped up on morphine to kill the stomache pains caused by the bad gall bladder. Mom's gall bladder apparently contains more stones than a rock garden. So Mom has to call on Monday to arrange for a surgery.
So here is another thing that keeps slapping us in the face to remind us that our mother is at the end of her life. I'm not really upset about my mom. In the two years since my father's passing mom has had a stroke, colon cancer, dehydration from the chemo and now the gall bladder. I just don't like the thought of her leaving so soon after my dad. I really like my mom. We differ on things but overall she's my buddy and I love her. I would be lonely with out her around. A woman needs her mom. I've even toyed with the idea of getting pregnant to entice her to live longer but then I come to my senses. This is thought I'm having as I walk through Foley's looking for new dishes. They were having a great sale on dishes! Miss Independence had broken a dish recently. It was one of Passionfruit's dishes from before we were married, yeah!
Now I'm standing in front of the cashier waiting to get checked out and the phone rang a second time. Passionfruit says, "I don't know how to say this so I'll just come out and say it." Now I didn't really think that this phone call was going to be quite so emotionally shocking as the other so I was totally unprepared for, "Honey, I destroyed the Volvo but I'm okay and so is Miss Independence."
Suddenly I find myself crying and shaking. I just couldn't believe my careful, safe spouse had an accident that would be so violent as to total a car, a Volvo at that! I mean Volvo cars (the older models) are tanks! I told him I would be there as fast as I could since I was at a metro shopping mall about 25 miles away.
When I finally get to Passionfruit I'm grateful to see him standing and watching the police officers cleaning up the road. Apparently the Volvo lost all of it's vital fluids on the road! How to describe the Volvo? Hmmm... Well let's just say that the hood of the car was bent in half and hanging open. The engine area was squashed into an area half the space that is normal for the car.
Is it any wonder then that I feel like I've been dragged through hell and back? I'm feeling totally guilty because Passionfruit is bruised and burned from the airbag. Yet he seems to be okay other than thinking himself an ass. He totally thinks he's messed up things for us. I don't care about things. Things are replacable. Maybe we can't replace things immediately so what? Passionfruit is alive. MI is alive. Neither is injured seriously. Which is amazing considering the force at work on the Volvo.
We have a family party to go tonight. I told Passionfruit that I totally understood if he didn't want to go. He said, "I eat with my left hand." His right hand has a sprained thumb. Go figure. Passionfruit gets his energy from people not himself.
First my sister calls and tells me that everthing is alright with mom but... Sister Sister then goes on to tell me she had just spent the morning with mom in the emergency room. Mom's okay except that she's doped up on morphine to kill the stomache pains caused by the bad gall bladder. Mom's gall bladder apparently contains more stones than a rock garden. So Mom has to call on Monday to arrange for a surgery.
So here is another thing that keeps slapping us in the face to remind us that our mother is at the end of her life. I'm not really upset about my mom. In the two years since my father's passing mom has had a stroke, colon cancer, dehydration from the chemo and now the gall bladder. I just don't like the thought of her leaving so soon after my dad. I really like my mom. We differ on things but overall she's my buddy and I love her. I would be lonely with out her around. A woman needs her mom. I've even toyed with the idea of getting pregnant to entice her to live longer but then I come to my senses. This is thought I'm having as I walk through Foley's looking for new dishes. They were having a great sale on dishes! Miss Independence had broken a dish recently. It was one of Passionfruit's dishes from before we were married, yeah!
Now I'm standing in front of the cashier waiting to get checked out and the phone rang a second time. Passionfruit says, "I don't know how to say this so I'll just come out and say it." Now I didn't really think that this phone call was going to be quite so emotionally shocking as the other so I was totally unprepared for, "Honey, I destroyed the Volvo but I'm okay and so is Miss Independence."
Suddenly I find myself crying and shaking. I just couldn't believe my careful, safe spouse had an accident that would be so violent as to total a car, a Volvo at that! I mean Volvo cars (the older models) are tanks! I told him I would be there as fast as I could since I was at a metro shopping mall about 25 miles away.
When I finally get to Passionfruit I'm grateful to see him standing and watching the police officers cleaning up the road. Apparently the Volvo lost all of it's vital fluids on the road! How to describe the Volvo? Hmmm... Well let's just say that the hood of the car was bent in half and hanging open. The engine area was squashed into an area half the space that is normal for the car.
Is it any wonder then that I feel like I've been dragged through hell and back? I'm feeling totally guilty because Passionfruit is bruised and burned from the airbag. Yet he seems to be okay other than thinking himself an ass. He totally thinks he's messed up things for us. I don't care about things. Things are replacable. Maybe we can't replace things immediately so what? Passionfruit is alive. MI is alive. Neither is injured seriously. Which is amazing considering the force at work on the Volvo.
We have a family party to go tonight. I told Passionfruit that I totally understood if he didn't want to go. He said, "I eat with my left hand." His right hand has a sprained thumb. Go figure. Passionfruit gets his energy from people not himself.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
It was a cold, wet, rainy morning
I woke up this morning to the beautiful sound of rain. Since the Fall rain has been scarce around here. So many days went by where there were clouds in the sky promising to send the main ingredient of life on this planet. These weren't the large puffy white clouds of blue sky days; no, these were dark brooding clouds filled with water. They would hang the sky teasing us for days.
How I hated those days. I could see the essential water hanging over our heads but never once dropping life's essence on us. No, it would wait for hundreds of miles before it would finally reach that stage where it would release the precious commodity. Unfortunately, where that life sustaining force fell to Earth those folks were not in need of it. In fact floods were the result of that gift from heaven.
How I would rail against the whimsy of the creator. Why the cruel games? Why deprive those so in need? Why cause others to be overwhelmed?
Now we've been getting our rains. I'm so grateful for these storms. I laid in bed this morning giving glory for the rain. Oh what a wonderful sound on the roof! The greenish aquarium light of a rainy morning makes one realize what a fish might feel swimming in a tank. Thank you for this wonderful gift.
How I hated those days. I could see the essential water hanging over our heads but never once dropping life's essence on us. No, it would wait for hundreds of miles before it would finally reach that stage where it would release the precious commodity. Unfortunately, where that life sustaining force fell to Earth those folks were not in need of it. In fact floods were the result of that gift from heaven.
How I would rail against the whimsy of the creator. Why the cruel games? Why deprive those so in need? Why cause others to be overwhelmed?
Now we've been getting our rains. I'm so grateful for these storms. I laid in bed this morning giving glory for the rain. Oh what a wonderful sound on the roof! The greenish aquarium light of a rainy morning makes one realize what a fish might feel swimming in a tank. Thank you for this wonderful gift.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Stage mothers
To continue my weekend story: Sunday was the recital for my 3 daughters. I can't tell you how much I was looking forward to this event. Last year, Storyteller's class stole the show. For three, little 3 year olds, they used up that great big stage. Of course Storyteller was one of the main characters in that dance. She direct the other two girls with great appeal. I cherish that memory.
This year Storyteller and DQ are in a class together. Their costumes made them look like a great big confectionary dream, eleven little girls in all. Everyone of them looking sweet and endearing. Again this year Storyteller directed a few of the clueless dancers in the group. Oh, how Storyteller looked like she was enjoying herself! She was even graceful! For those that don't know, Storyteller tends to be a little power house. She just moves with a chugging fashion. DQ was as serious as ever-- wanting to get everything "right". I have to say that DQ was absolutely beautiful. There was such an ethereal quality to her. She was graceful and serene.
Now onto Miss Independence's role in the day. Her teacher had asked for volunteers to move the girls from the stage to the audience where the parents would pick them up. They were desperate. So, I went ahead and volunteered to do this job. Well I was rather surprised by this because so many of these mothers are your typical stage mothers. I mean I took to sitting in my car to wait for class to be over because of all the elbows I would get. I wasn't even trying to view the class but they made it perfectly clear I was in their way.
So I've spent the whole year not watching the class for that reason and because I wanted to be surprised on recital day. Dress rehearsal was Saturday while I was in Denver. So I missed this opportunity to see the dance. Finally, it is Sunday, the day I've been looking forward to all year. The day my baby was going to dance on the big stage! I get my girls back stage. I started putting the puffs on heads that needed puffs. Crowns on heads that needed crowns. I help line up the little Sugar Plum Frairies. Miss Independence is hanging on my hand. Walk them to the stage wings: Miss Independence continues to hang on my hand and my leg.
Suddenly I start getting an eery feeling. This was a bad idea. NOO! Certainly Miss Independence will want to dance. Ohhh! Look MI, the big girls are done! It's your turn. Go on... Ohh!! Don't you want to dance? Dance for mommy? Get out there and dance!!!!!!! If you don't get out there and dance you won't get another chance for a long time!@! THAT'S IT!! I'M LEAVING!!!
And I did do just that I left. I hunted down Storyteller who was exhibiting signs of going the same way as MI. I told Storyteller in no uncertain terms that if she pulled the same stunt that life at home would not be enjoyable tonight. Looking back I suppose I did get a big surprise in the end. I still don't know what MI's dance looked like.
Now, I'm sure there are folks out there that would think I'm a bit harsh... Guess what, I am! I'm a mean mommy. I let my children know that I am not terribly happy with their choices. But I keep telling myself that I am raising the next crop of writers. Think of all the stories my children will be able to entertain you with in the future. Think about it some of the best writers out there had wacko moms. They are the fodder for those creative little minds.
On the other hand, I feel totally bad about what happened. I worry about how my reaction to this will affect their psyche. Am I totally warping these little children? I hate that I lost it. I hate that I didn't get to see my baby's dance. I really, really wanted to see her up on that stage.
So lessons learned: Don't go out of town the few days before your children's recital. Don't volunteer to be a stage mom. Try to realize that perhaps MI was not feeling good. My sister said that MI might have thought the dress rehearsal was IT. When someone told MI that she was going to dance the next day, MI replied, "I already did." So I guess I was a bad mommy for not being involved. I went out of town and abandoned MI to her aunty. Who by the way spoiled her to no end. Doughnuts and Dora in the morning. That never happens at home. Aunty also bought her several items of clothing. Maybe Aunty should take my children. Except that I happen to know that Aunty doesn't really like to be around children. Makes her nervous. I have an older brother who has a similar reaction. They both have children of their own. Wonder if it's something to do with aging? Will I feel the same way in ten to twelve years from now? Right now, I happen to thing babies are sweet and young children are fun. Okay, I've never done well with 3 year olds. I still believe that someone needs to make a boarding school for 3 year olds. I don't know why the phrase is terrible twos because 3 has always, always been the absolute worse in my experience. Remember mommy, MI is 3 years old, another lesson learned.
This year Storyteller and DQ are in a class together. Their costumes made them look like a great big confectionary dream, eleven little girls in all. Everyone of them looking sweet and endearing. Again this year Storyteller directed a few of the clueless dancers in the group. Oh, how Storyteller looked like she was enjoying herself! She was even graceful! For those that don't know, Storyteller tends to be a little power house. She just moves with a chugging fashion. DQ was as serious as ever-- wanting to get everything "right". I have to say that DQ was absolutely beautiful. There was such an ethereal quality to her. She was graceful and serene.
Now onto Miss Independence's role in the day. Her teacher had asked for volunteers to move the girls from the stage to the audience where the parents would pick them up. They were desperate. So, I went ahead and volunteered to do this job. Well I was rather surprised by this because so many of these mothers are your typical stage mothers. I mean I took to sitting in my car to wait for class to be over because of all the elbows I would get. I wasn't even trying to view the class but they made it perfectly clear I was in their way.
So I've spent the whole year not watching the class for that reason and because I wanted to be surprised on recital day. Dress rehearsal was Saturday while I was in Denver. So I missed this opportunity to see the dance. Finally, it is Sunday, the day I've been looking forward to all year. The day my baby was going to dance on the big stage! I get my girls back stage. I started putting the puffs on heads that needed puffs. Crowns on heads that needed crowns. I help line up the little Sugar Plum Frairies. Miss Independence is hanging on my hand. Walk them to the stage wings: Miss Independence continues to hang on my hand and my leg.
Suddenly I start getting an eery feeling. This was a bad idea. NOO! Certainly Miss Independence will want to dance. Ohhh! Look MI, the big girls are done! It's your turn. Go on... Ohh!! Don't you want to dance? Dance for mommy? Get out there and dance!!!!!!! If you don't get out there and dance you won't get another chance for a long time!@! THAT'S IT!! I'M LEAVING!!!
And I did do just that I left. I hunted down Storyteller who was exhibiting signs of going the same way as MI. I told Storyteller in no uncertain terms that if she pulled the same stunt that life at home would not be enjoyable tonight. Looking back I suppose I did get a big surprise in the end. I still don't know what MI's dance looked like.
Now, I'm sure there are folks out there that would think I'm a bit harsh... Guess what, I am! I'm a mean mommy. I let my children know that I am not terribly happy with their choices. But I keep telling myself that I am raising the next crop of writers. Think of all the stories my children will be able to entertain you with in the future. Think about it some of the best writers out there had wacko moms. They are the fodder for those creative little minds.
On the other hand, I feel totally bad about what happened. I worry about how my reaction to this will affect their psyche. Am I totally warping these little children? I hate that I lost it. I hate that I didn't get to see my baby's dance. I really, really wanted to see her up on that stage.
So lessons learned: Don't go out of town the few days before your children's recital. Don't volunteer to be a stage mom. Try to realize that perhaps MI was not feeling good. My sister said that MI might have thought the dress rehearsal was IT. When someone told MI that she was going to dance the next day, MI replied, "I already did." So I guess I was a bad mommy for not being involved. I went out of town and abandoned MI to her aunty. Who by the way spoiled her to no end. Doughnuts and Dora in the morning. That never happens at home. Aunty also bought her several items of clothing. Maybe Aunty should take my children. Except that I happen to know that Aunty doesn't really like to be around children. Makes her nervous. I have an older brother who has a similar reaction. They both have children of their own. Wonder if it's something to do with aging? Will I feel the same way in ten to twelve years from now? Right now, I happen to thing babies are sweet and young children are fun. Okay, I've never done well with 3 year olds. I still believe that someone needs to make a boarding school for 3 year olds. I don't know why the phrase is terrible twos because 3 has always, always been the absolute worse in my experience. Remember mommy, MI is 3 years old, another lesson learned.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Adventures or misadventures?
Well, I've returned from my conference. This was one of the best conferences I've been to lately. There were so many sessions that sounded good. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to get to them all.
Thursday I went to the Red Rocks park. Nature's beauty always takes my breath away but these are really impressive rock formations. I didn't have to buy very many meals because they really fed you at this conference. We had dinner at the Red Rocks park. There were so many interesting conversations! Anything went... politics, conspiracy theories!
Now things really don't get interesting until Saturday. While going up an escalator, I tripped and fell up them. I thought perhaps I might have broken a few toes on my left foot. But why worry, there is nothing they can do for broken digits, right?
When I finished with the last session I left the hotel with my two bags. One was a book bag holding my purse and the other was a small overnight bag. While I walked down the street in Denver, Colorado I was enjoying the weather. I was really enjoying walking briskly along. Much to my misfortune my brisk walk ended up projecting me about two feet as I fell. I had tripped on the side walk. The side walk came up about one and one half to two inches above the other section.
Now I've never been hit by a truck but I gotta say that it certainly felt like I was. In the mean time, I apparently knocked myself out because the poor terrified man sweeping the sidewalk told me that's what happened in broken English. He told me that I was sleeping. Well I have to confess it took me awhile to sit up and several more minutes before I actually got to my feet. In that time there were at least four Anglos who passed by and never once asked if I was okay. In the mean time I had to deal with this poor man who was freaking out over my accident.
So now that I'm home my dear mother told me that perhaps I ought to stay away from conferences. The last time I went to a national conference I was 5 months pregnant. I was in Seattle, Washington. There I managed to fall down a half of a flight of stairs. Luckily I didn't land on my tummy that night. Get this folks that was Friday the 13th. No such reason for this fall.
Well I made it to the bus station to catch the bus in plenty of time. I had plenty of time to check in at the airport. The flight I was on wasn't full so I was able to find a row all to myself to prop up my aching left knee. I'm enjoying my book until I realize that we are not make any progress to pushing away from the portal. Realizing there is some activity at the back of the plane I try to figure out what is going on back there. Is someone sick? Did someone vandalize the plane? WHAT? To cut a long story short the captain finally gets on intercom and tells us our flight has been cancelled. We all need to deboard and rush down ten gates to the next flight. When all is said and done I got home at 11:30 PM not the 9:30 PM.
There is more to my weekend but that will have to wait for another time.
Thursday I went to the Red Rocks park. Nature's beauty always takes my breath away but these are really impressive rock formations. I didn't have to buy very many meals because they really fed you at this conference. We had dinner at the Red Rocks park. There were so many interesting conversations! Anything went... politics, conspiracy theories!
Now things really don't get interesting until Saturday. While going up an escalator, I tripped and fell up them. I thought perhaps I might have broken a few toes on my left foot. But why worry, there is nothing they can do for broken digits, right?
When I finished with the last session I left the hotel with my two bags. One was a book bag holding my purse and the other was a small overnight bag. While I walked down the street in Denver, Colorado I was enjoying the weather. I was really enjoying walking briskly along. Much to my misfortune my brisk walk ended up projecting me about two feet as I fell. I had tripped on the side walk. The side walk came up about one and one half to two inches above the other section.
Now I've never been hit by a truck but I gotta say that it certainly felt like I was. In the mean time, I apparently knocked myself out because the poor terrified man sweeping the sidewalk told me that's what happened in broken English. He told me that I was sleeping. Well I have to confess it took me awhile to sit up and several more minutes before I actually got to my feet. In that time there were at least four Anglos who passed by and never once asked if I was okay. In the mean time I had to deal with this poor man who was freaking out over my accident.
So now that I'm home my dear mother told me that perhaps I ought to stay away from conferences. The last time I went to a national conference I was 5 months pregnant. I was in Seattle, Washington. There I managed to fall down a half of a flight of stairs. Luckily I didn't land on my tummy that night. Get this folks that was Friday the 13th. No such reason for this fall.
Well I made it to the bus station to catch the bus in plenty of time. I had plenty of time to check in at the airport. The flight I was on wasn't full so I was able to find a row all to myself to prop up my aching left knee. I'm enjoying my book until I realize that we are not make any progress to pushing away from the portal. Realizing there is some activity at the back of the plane I try to figure out what is going on back there. Is someone sick? Did someone vandalize the plane? WHAT? To cut a long story short the captain finally gets on intercom and tells us our flight has been cancelled. We all need to deboard and rush down ten gates to the next flight. When all is said and done I got home at 11:30 PM not the 9:30 PM.
There is more to my weekend but that will have to wait for another time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
