Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Happy sixteenth anniversary to me!

Sunday, May 30th, 2010

Today is Rachel’s birthday.  And I’ve been teasing her, asking what she did that was so special.  Why are we giving her the party for her birthday?  We should be celebrating me instead.  I did all the work.  It was a lot of work.  And for me, it mostly started at the conception.

For Rachel, here’s the story of your birth.  And I’ll tell it to you Gilmore style.

*ahem ahem*

Sixteen years ago today, I woke up in the hospital.  I had been there for a week, sleeping in a padded hospital bed, on the off chance that I might get very sick or have seizures.  There were only five channels on the television and one of those was the security camera showing people entering and exiting the hospital.  I was on a low sodium diet, which is also to say low flavor.  And I had been on bed rest for over a month.  The things I do for you.

That morning I knew you were finally going to be born thanks to the miracles of modern medicine.  They wheeled me into the labor and delivery area to squirt some prostiglandin gel in my hoo-hoo in the hopes it might start labor.

On the other side of the curtain was a woman in active labor.  She was swearing at her husband and puking.  Your father turned three shades of white.  I could actually see the panic on his face.

me: I won’t do that.  I promise.

Well, a few hours later it was obvious the gel hadn’t worked.  (We knew it wasn’t my hoo-hoo!  That definitely worked…)  So, I was hooked up to a pitocin IV.  Good thing I’m not afraid of needles or you wouldn’t be here.  *cough cough*

By two, I was in active labor.  And I had back labor.  The pain…excruciating.  Jennie was busy rubbing my back, talking to me in her soothing voice, trying to keep me comfortable.  Daddy was busy thinking of excuses to leave the room every five minutes.  Did I mention that  you had the misfortune of being born during the NBA playoffs?  Oh, and my delivery room didn’t have a television.  Or a radio.

Jennie called gramma to come and bring a portable one.  We called them boom boxes in those days.  And I warned her that I didn’t want her to come in.  I warned her days before.  Pain makes me cranky.  And it makes me quiet.  I didn’t speak for four hours.  Can you imagine?

Well, gramma can tell you allll about it.  She showed up while I wasn’t speaking.  And she took it rather badly.  And I was in too much pain to care.

Around 6pm, the doctor asked if I wanted an epidural.  All I could do was nod.  He came back a few minutes later to tell me the anesthesiologist on call was at home and was on his way.  I glanced at the clock and imagined the man eating dinner, taking a shower, and lazily getting into fresh scrubs before driving back to ease my suffering.  Make that…my immense suffering.

Sure enough, about forty minutes later the doctor arrived.  And your father left the room…again.  Jennie?  She stayed.  She was there every minute of it.  She helped me bend over a pillow.  And then the warnings started.

But all I heard was…blah blah head ache, blah blah paralysis, blah blah blah…

That wasn’t the time to go over anything with me.  Had he asked for a limb, I probably would have given him one just to make the pain stop.

With in minutes, I was me again.  I was laughing.  I was joking.  I was working the room.  The nurses liked this me waaaay better.

Finally, it was time to push.  And I couldn’t feel a thing.  Perfect!  I didn’t feel when the over-exuberant nurse ripped me inside.  I didn’t feel when the doctor sewed me back together.  I didn’t feel when I had contractions to push.  (I watched the monitor for that.)  I didn’t feel the stomach crunches that they made me do to shove you out.  But I did comment…it was something like…

me: Seriously?  I didn’t do crunches when I wasn’t pregnant.

At 10:08pm, you made your grand entrance into the big world.  And the nurse was standing there in the doorway, showing my business to everyone who walked by.  And the doctor had Daddy cut the cord. For weeks after I heard…

daddy: You know, I didn’t want to cut the cord.

I was nice back then.  I was sweet and young and understanding.  Now…I’d have said…

me: Shut the hell up.  It was the least you could do after I did all the work.  It was your contribution to the big event.  You know…that and the sperm.

Ah, maturity and confidence will change a person.  Don’t you ever change though.  On second thought, it may already be too late.  Well, nuts.

Once I was stitched up and showered, they let me go see you.  You were 5 lbs, 2 1/4 ounces.  I don’t remember how long.  All I know is that you had big eyes even then.  And you were feisty, even then.  I knew that because they had you under an oxygen hood since you were four weeks early and you were lifting it off.

Happy birthday, birthday girl!  You have your whole life before you and all your documents to prove it. 

Just look at you, nearly grown.  There’s more than a hint of truth in the song that I always think of as ours.  Listen to it, knowing how much you are loved and cherished.  May this be your best year yet.

Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

A Muppet moment…

Saturday, May 29th, 2010

I was dreading Rachel’s concert on so many levels.  Don’t get me wrong.  I think I have more than effectively proven my love and devotion to these kids.  If the tales of my ‘volunteering’ aren’t evidence enough, then the post for tomorrow, the one celebrating Rachel’s existence ought to be more than enough.

Still, the concert meant that I was going to once again be sharing air with the ex.  And we hadn’t really discussed it, but was he bringing his girlfriend?  Was he planning on sitting with me and Keenan?  Was HE going to come?  Yeah…I mostly knew the answer to that one.

Most of the week I had been bracing myself for his ultimate decision.  I knew that he didn’t want to go.  HE made weak excuses about the seats in the auditorium hurting his butt.  HE made weak jokes about how they didn’t hurt mine because I had more padding.  (For the record, he never complains about THAT padding.)  So, I was reasonably confident that it was going to be me and Keenan, sitting alone.  And no amount of thinking about it prepared me for my gut reaction when it happened.

I was still upset, still hurt.

HIM: I don’t want to go back there.

He had some bad memories of Rachel’s high school from when he attended.  Not so long ago.  There, I said it.  Ouch.

me: I know.  Do you think I do?  I mean, I have no buffer now.  The ex is going to be there.

And I knew he felt guilty that I said that.  Not guilty enough to go.  And I didn’t want him going out of guilt anyway.

*sigh*

me: I love you.  You better hold me all night after this one.

HIM: Didn’t I last night?

me: Yeah.  Well, I’m just saying.  And I’m gonna need a magic hug.

HIM: *smile* I’ll see what I can conjure up.

We left then, me and the kids.  And Rachel was stressing.  And I was stressing.  And Keenan…Keenan was seemingly unmoved.

Rachel disappeared and we found seats.  We talked.  We joked.  Then the ex arrived.  We were packed in like sardines, so there was no danger that we would be sitting together.  Then Rachel’s best friend, Ashley, was wandering around looking lost.  She couldn’t sing because she’d had a root canal.

I looked around and saw the ex looking uncomfortable sitting alone.

me: Keenan, want to go sit with your dad and Ashley will sit with me?

So, he ran off to sit with the ex, who looked over and mouthed a very grateful ‘thank you.’  I’m not so bad.  Really, I’m not.

And the concert began in standard form.  Sometimes, the teacher forgets we’re here for the kids.  He talks waaaay too much.  Rachel had warned me earlier that it could be long.

Rachel: Remember how the Christmas one was an hour?

me: Yeah.

Rachel: Well, this one could be two hours.

me: Seriously.

Rachel: Yup.  Even I don’t want to go.

me: Way to sell it, Rachel.

The concert went on and on.  There were some really great songs.  There were some cute performances.  There were some ridiculously talented kids.

Only what I remember the most, what made it bearable to begin with, what helped me with my confidence level…Ashley and I became hecklers.  Sort of.

The new president of the chorus parents group (I have no idea what it’s called…a true indication of how much I paid attention…) spoke.  She gave the standard warning about turning off cell phones and removing crying babies because the performance was being taped for resale.  And she kept saying…

president: The sound system is very sensitive.

Soon enough…whiny baby.  And Ashley made a comment about the sensitive sound system.  Then there was a man in front of us whose phone started sounding.

me: I don’t think he took the speech about the sensitive sound system very seriously.

Suddenly, my mind filled with memories of the muppets…more specifically, the hecklers.  Yup.  That’s what I felt like.  And it made me giggle.  All was well.

I didn’t even mind when Ashley left a few minutes later, leaving me to sit alone-ish.  I mostly didn’t mind that the concert lasted just shy of two and a half hours.  And I barely felt uncomfortable when the ex walked us to the car.  Instead…I called HIM.

me: Have you rented our rooms yet?

HIM: I have a few possibilities in the works.

me: Well, tell those losers their out of luck.  We’re coming home!  Arms at the ready.

Soon we were walking through the door, into extra people and extra pets.  Ed, Laura, and Snickers were there.

HIM: Ready for that magic hug?

He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

HIM: Well?

me: That was pretty magical.

We didn’t even notice when Ed and Laura left.  And once more…I could breathe.  All was right in my world.

Posted in Reflections | 4 Comments »

Our wonder year…

Friday, May 28th, 2010

It was this weekend last year that we moved in together.  The first time.  And it’s funny…funny strange, not funny ha ha.

We had a chance at our year of firsts.  And we didn’t do so well with it.  It’s much better this time around.  I’m marveling over the changes now as I think about it.

The first time, I felt like I had to soak up every minute, I felt like I needed to be with him as much as possible…like the relationship was fleeting.  Now, I know it isn’t.  Now I know we’re going to last.

Last time, raising the kids was scary.  Now, he has embraced this new role.  He has embraced the word ‘we.’  And we are doing really well with that.

Last time, the kids felt left out a bit.  Now, it’s a more inclusive environment.  We eat more meals together without me pushing.  We all work together to maintain the house.  And last weekend, we all hung out together and played in the pool.  It made me smile…a lot.

The other night, I came home and found him making dinner with Rachel.  And they had cleaned the fridge.  And they had run the dishwasher.  And it was all done just as well as if I had done it.  Oh, but the best part…Rachel confided in him, talked to him about her relationship, asked for his input and opinion.  That is not to say she liked his response, but he was honest at least.

Life is different.  Life is good.  We have more stressers than ever before, but we seem to also be handling them better than ever.

I look at all of it.  It was this time last year that HE was encouraging me to start blogging.  (Next month the blog will be one year old!)  And I look at how far I’ve come, how much I’ve accomplished, how many wonderful friends I’ve made, the opportunities I’ve had.  And I feel like this is the tip of the ice berg.

The house has changed some, not as significantly as it will over the next couple of years, but still more than it had before my presence.  We’ve altered our remodeling plans some already.  It’s a challenge to not over do, to not accidentally price ourselves out of the neighborhood.

Our family unit has changed.  We lost one of my cats the first time around.  We gained a Bishop.  We lost his cat this go round.  And we’ve gained five kittens.

While I always thought that we were good at communicating, we’ve gotten so much better.  We’re both learning in that department.  Twice in as many days, what could have been blow outs ended up being simple effective conversations.  It’s so nice to be able to tell someone what you need reconcile it with their needs and meet in the middle.

It has been our year of wonder.  And we have many years left in us.  Many many.

Posted in Reflections | 7 Comments »

Happiness is making progress…

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

That’s the theme around our house these days.  Progress.

We’re constantly working toward our goals, building our empire.  And it feels good to be moving in the right direction.

Tuesday night I wrote up a few proposals for HIM and then scanned and emailed them to the potential customers.  That I managed to get the scanner to work…progress.  That we have potential customers…progress.  That we’re working together…typical.

Then I made an announcement…

me: I want to go on a date tomorrow night.

HIM: With who?

And he was serious.

me: With you, idiot.  I think we should go to see Iron Man 2.

So, we’re trying to work that out.  We’ll see.  It’s all going to depend on some of the progress that we’re making.

We have a phone meeting with his friend who is designing a website for us, and may work with me on the blogs.  I want a blog badge.  Okay, I need a blog badge, or two…

And I have follow-up phone calls to make.  We need to make more progress.  We have drawers ready to fill with customer files.  We have marketing supplies to share with various businesses and homeowner associations.  We are prepared.  For him, that alone is progress.

Finally, we are in a place where I feel like I can start working on some of my goals.  I’ve been dying to get more work done on Wedding Journeys.  I’ve been hoping to turn this blog into a hyper local one, featuring local brides and local vendors.  In my grand plan, this blog will eventually earn me money through advertising.  As far as I’m concerned, the sky is the limit.  I have the energy, the drive, the determination.  Now, I just need to put into action some of my ideas.

So, I’ve been joining Meet Up groups related to wedding planning.  And I’ve been contacting various vendors, not the least of which is my future mother-in-law, Vicki of the cakes.  (I checked out her site the other day and she has both my last birthday cake and my divorce cake on there.  And she’s making Rachel’s 16th birthday cake for Saturday.  Watch for pictures!)

I’m looking for area brides.  Anyone in Charlotte getting married besides me?  Come on.  Don’t be shy!

Also, I’m ordering business cards and marketing supplies for myself.  I have a few bridal shows coming up that I plan to attend.  I’m networking.  All of this…progress.

You may have difficulty imagining this, but I’m rather shy.  I’m not really used to putting myself out there.  I am known for risk taking, but this is a bit outside of my comfort zone.  That I am pursuing it anyway…progress.

I think there comes a time in your life where you have to question what it is that you really have to lose.  In my case, if I don’t follow through, I’ll have to say goodbye to my dreams of being self-employed doing what I love.  And this…weddings and all they entail…definitely what I love.  If I give up and decide to try to make the best of the situation I’m in, I might just as well whither up and die.

I have potential.  I have hopes and dreams still left to be realized.  I at least have to try.

Somehow, I imagine that if I play my cards right, I may be able to build us this life that is like a perpetual honeymoon, full of new adventures and endless firsts.  We’ll both be happy.  Right now, we both are happy.  And that, too, is progress.

PS.  Just to prove how into progress I am…at Wedding Journeys, it’s show time…

Posted in Happiness is... | 7 Comments »

I’m the worst invalid ever…

Wednesday, May 26th, 2010

I’ve been really introspective lately.  I’ve had to be.  That’s what growth and change are all about.

Here are some of the things I’ve been thinking about…

• I’m a giver and mostly the caregiver, so why is it so hard for me to let others take care of me, to give back?

Umm.  I think I know why.  I hate being seen as weak or lazy.  And there’s something about asking for help that gnaws at me, too.

Take last night…

I was supposed to be sitting around with my feet up.  The doctor said that I need to keep my foot elevated as much as possible, ice it, and stay off my feet.  Right.

Here’s the thing…when I sit even for a moment, I start thinking of things I should be doing.  Next thing you know I’m picking up, as much as possible.  I’m loading laundry in the dryer.  I’m working on the computer.  And for the most part, HE remained silent.  It wasn’t until evening and the kids were getting ready for bed that he started getting visibly bothered.

At one point I hobbled out into the kitchen and he was in there.

HIM: What!

I stopped and looked at him.

HIM: What, Nicki?  What could you possibly need that Icouldn’t get you?  I’m right here!

me: I just wanted a drink.

HIM: Go back to the lounge chair.  I will bring it to you.

And so I sat and waited.  My drink arrived.  I tried to relax.

Then I heard it.  Charlie needed to get back in to feed her kittens.

I reached for the crutches.

HIM: What!

me: Um.  Charlie…

HIM: I’ll let her in the room in a minute.

And he did.  All was mostly well.  He held me in the chair.  I did the usual, curl up and fall asleep.

Morning came after I had a reasonably nice Vicodin induced sleep.  I would have slept even better…if he had.  Only I feel his stress, his tension.  I suppose I imagine that I am the cause, even when I’m not.

That’s why I didn’t want to bother him over the garbage.  That’s why I didn’t want to ask him to move the table from the back yard to the curb for bulk pick up.  That’s why I figured that I could get the can to the curb somehow.

Keenan was in the kitchen when I came out and told him I needed his help.  Somehow, he didn’t understand what that meant.  It meant now.  Right now.  And I didn’t want to nag.  I was too tired.

So…I propped the crutches against the grill and managed to drag the table to the curb all by myself.  I’m so big.  And I didn’t get hurt…but I can tell already that I over did.  The ankle is already tingly and hot.  Still, there was a sense of satisfaction and pride.  I’m not helpless.

That feeling was short-lived.  HE was brushing his teeth when I went into the bathroom moments later to dry my hair before heading out to work.

me: The garbage is out at the curb.  The table, too.

HIM: Oh, you had the kids get it out.

There was that moment where I shifted uncomfortably.  He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the inevitable.

me: Keenan took out the can, I did the table.

He was shaking his head agitatedly.

HIM: Why?  Were you trying to prove a point?

And I said that I wasn’t, but maybe I was.  And that made me feel worse than the ankle.  Why can’t I let him really take care of me when he wants to?  Why am I so proud that I refuse to ask for help?  It may be my worst flaw.  Or it is at the moment.

When I made my way out to the car, my arms were full.  I had the purse, the lunch, the crutches.  HE came over from Ed’s without saying a word.  He took the crutches and laid them in the back seat, waited for me to climb in the front.  He had a very serious expression.  And I was trying to avoid looking him in the eyes.

me: Have a nice day.

HIM: You, too.

He leaned in to hug me, then moved to kiss me.  He paused to look in my eyes.

HIM: Stay off your foot.  Don’t over do it.  And call me if you need anything.

I smiled.  I said that to him every day.  This was the first time he had ever offered.  I decided to throw him a bone.  I sent him a text from work.

me: Want to drop off the peppermint patties when you’re running errands?

Apparently he did.  I am so very loved.  I just need to learn to let go and let him do for me more often.  Ahhh.

PS. The latest picture of the kittens is on Deep South Moms.  My post was published yesterday.  Who knew?

Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

A tale of two crutches…

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

One of my favorite posts was about my love of Bishop and how he might be the death of me.  Well, it’s more true today than it was then.  On top of the fact that he is waaaay bigger than he was then, I am now temporarily differently-abled.

Not long ago, Spring was partially out of commission since she had broken her elbow.  Now, I am mostly out of commission, since when you’re down a leg, you’re also down two hands in order to get around on crutches.  And I have discovered that my crutch skills have not much improved since the sprain.  In fact, my crutch skills remind me of my mother’s.  She broke an ankle on the stairs, then ended up in a boot on the other foot because of her crutch skills.

And while I am thankful that we have a ranch…it’s one of those contemporary ranches that has a step here and a step there.  For example, in the bedroom, I have to go down a step, around the end of the bed, and then up a step in order to get to the bathroom.  Out in the living area, the entry has a step separating it from the garage, great room, and study.  Good times.

So, I’m half convalescing, half working in the study after HE left for work, but before my doctor appointment.  I was on hold, waiting to place our request for bulk pickup when I glanced outside and realized that Bishop was out front.  It took me a moment to process since I was sure that he was in the house.  I swore I heard HIM let the dog in before he left.  Yet…that was clearly Bishop grazing in the front natural area.

Well, ever since the chicken incident,  the neighborhood dogs have been watched over with the kind of diligence normally reserved for toddlers.  They are constantly on lock down.  And with me being the responsible party at the moment, I grabbed my crutches and tried to hobble to the door.  I was immediately foiled by the step.  Naturally, I wiped out.  On the bright side, it was carpet.

I crawled to the door and opened it, a task once again made all the more challenging by the door handle.  Grr.  And when I opened the door and shouted for Bishop, he was nowhere to be seen.  So, I crawled back to the crutches, righted myself, and hiked out the door.  The entire time I’m stumbling down the driveway, I ‘m shouting for our dog.

Then I spotted him.  He was in the side yard, just outside of the open gate.  Ah, the culprit.  Next thing you know, I’m sinking in the saturated ground as I tried to make my way to the gate some 20 yards away.  When I reach it, I am forced to go in the back yard, lift the gate to make it shut, and pull it closed behind me.  Oh, and that would have been enough of a challenge on TWO legs.

Well, we made it inside.  To be perfectly honest, I was wiped out after that.  So HE found me resting on the sofa with my bad leg propped up.  Soon, I relayed the entire incident.

HIM: Aww, Tiny Nick!  You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you?

And I realized what he was getting at, what he saw when he looked at me, hobbling around with my crutches.  What was left to say after that?

me: God bless us every one…

Soon it was time to go to the doctor.  Yes, that poor man.  Six x-rays were taken.  We visited a bit.  And he declared that it was only a sprain.

Really?  After the pop?  With all that pain?  What about the swelling and bruising?

Nope.  Just a sprain.

Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t want a broken limb, but somehow I feel like a woos being felled by an ordinary sprain.  Great.

doctor: It will probably swell more and get more bruised.

me: Well, at least that’s something to look forward to.

doctor: What drug would you like for pain?

me: Really?

And I looked at HIM.  We both perked up.  Was this a joke?  Was this a test?  Would I finally get to sleep at night once more?

me: Mmm. Well, I’ve used Vicodin and Percocet before.

In the end, I left with a script for Vicodin.  Sort of.  In classic form, I left it in the room, we had to turn the car around and go back to get it.  And HE had it filled for me while I waited in the vehicle.

For someone with little experience in taking care of others, he’s doing really well.  And for someone with bad experiences on crutches, I’m being super careful.  Naturally, we have a bet going.  HE thinks I’ll be healed in two weeks.  I say I’ll be off the crutches by the weekend.  I’ve got lots of motivation.

Saturday we celebrate Rachel’s sixteenth birthday.  And we were supposed to get Bishop and his brother Riley together with their mother.  Let’s face it.  I can’t afford to be on crutches around three Great Danes.

Oh, and on the wedding front…if you want to see some cake toppers, check out Wedding Journeys.

Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

I may have spoken too soon…

Monday, May 24th, 2010

I had originally started this post with the title: ‘Finally a really great weekend…’

It was interrupted while I was working on it last night.  Since the weather was absolutely gorgeous, I was writing out in the garage.  Sounds strange, but the lighting is better there than on the patio or the screen porch.  HE was across the road with Bishop.  And out of the corner of my eye, I see Bishop racing up the street toward the main road.

That pretty much put an end to my writing and our outdoor time.  After that, Bishop was in the house for a time out.  We were working on writing a proposal for a repair job he was completing in the morning.  And then we were going to settle in to watch the Lost finale.

Only…before we could start the show, we were distracted by Bishop carrying one of his cows to us, wanting to play some.  And he’s rather difficult to deny.  He doesn’t get it.  He’ll just keep tossing the cow at you until you either give in or get completely ticked off.  Sometimes it’s just easier to tire him out.

So, here’s how far I had made it on the draft of the post:

Ever have these moments where life all comes together, where it seems like all the struggles may be over, like life suddenly make sense once more.  Well, I’m there.  I’m finally there.

I am trying to remember the last time I was truly in this good a place.  Umm…maybe never?  In fact, at the moment, the only dark spot on an otherwise glowing review of my life would be that Rachel is grounded.  That won’t last long…unless she continues to buck the system.  Oh, and this parental unit is the system.

As for the rest of it…

Well, the comments on the contest are over.  Now the waiting begins.  Good.  Who knows if I could have handled any more comments?

We seem to have hit our stride around the house.  The cleaning is mostly getting done as it should so that I have more free time on my hands.  We have done almost all that we can be done for now, so again…more free time.  And as for our relationship…we’ve never been better.  Never.

He’s happy.  He acts happy.  He plays with me.  We laugh.  We joke.  We rough house.  We snuggle.  We make plans together.  We make plans for forever.  And I’m talking about specifics…like going to Vegas next October to celebrate Ed and Laura’s anniversary.

Oh, to look back on it now.  Such hope!  Such happiness!  *sniffle sniffle*  How could it have gone wrong so quickly?

Right.  We played with Bishop.  He weighs 136 now.  Or he did two weeks ago when he went to the vet.  We have another vet visit on Thursday, so we’ll see how that goes.  I’m sure he’ll weigh more by then.

Well, we’re crawling around on the floor.  We’re tossing the cow.  We sometimes get a little carried away.  Next thing you know, my ankle gets twisted under me.  We both heard a sound.  Was it a crack or a pop?  Umm.  All I know is that there is pain and swelling and something that looks remarkably like another ankle that has sprung out of my foot.  And I can’t walk on it.  I mean, I did for a moment.  I had to pee and I was trying to tough it out.  Big mistake.  Both my ankles on my right foot thought so.

Sure, some people would have gone to the hospital then and there.  Those people are better insured with lower co-pays and deductibles.  Those people have money in the bank to cover the bill when it arrives.  Me, I’ll be calling my doctor this morning when the office opens to get an appointment.  It’s only a $25 co-pay.  And I don’t want to think about what the rest of the bill will look like when it arrives.  Really I don’t.

I’ve never broken anything.  I’m not sure I have now.  I am sure that I will let you know.  (Like you had any doubts.)

As for HIM…racked with guilt and worry.  He was, after all, involved in this rough housing.  He feels responsible for playing too hard, for not protecting me better.

me: Let it go!  It’s not your fault.

HIM: You’ve never broken a bone before.

me: Who says I have now?  And remember, I’m clumsy.  I sprained my ankle in a bad dismount off the couch!

Needless to say, he’s been ridiculously devoted.  He’s made ice bag after ice bag.  He’s brought me drinks.  He’s grabbed me medicine.  He’s wrapped the ankle.  He checks on it and me constantly.  He apologizes for what he sees as his amateur efforts.  He’s not used to taking care of anyone.  For an amateur, he’s doing really well.  I’m afraid he’ll tire of this.  Luckily, we have back up…the kids.  And when they tire of it, I will be playing the birth card.  Yup.  It’s a little low.  It’s a little dirty.  Let’s hope it’s not necessary.  And let’s hope the foot heals fast.

I’m thinking this a case where the universe just bitch slapped me.  The universe was all…take that!  That’ll teach you.  You were getting just a little TOO happy.  Your life was just a little TOO good.  You want to talk about not having to struggle?  Ha!  Let’s see how you make out with just one leg.  Bam!

Lesson learned.

Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

I know, I know…

Sunday, May 23rd, 2010

Okay, so I’m posting a little late today.  My apologies.  There’s a good reason, really.

I just woke up.

And I know that I’ve told you that behind the blog magic, I normally write a post the night before and simply publish in the morning.  That would have been a good plan, but that’s not what happened.  And as always, it’s because my life is pretty much unplanned.

Okay…not exactly.  I’m one heck of a planner, but life seems to throw me curve balls and I need to adjust accordingly.  And in the past, it used to mess with me.  I’d be so focused on sticking to the plan that it made me a little crazy.  Only I have discovered that if I bend a little, if I roll with things more, it’s okay.  The world, or at least my world, doesn’t implode.  Really.

So I’m writing this morning, a little later than normal, and it’s going to be okay.

We were supposed to have friends over last night.  Only they called and plans and changed and we went there instead.  And on the way over, we went to Showmars for dinner.  We actually ate in a restaurant.  This is noteworthy.  We practically NEVER eat in a restaurant.  Don’t get too excited.  Showmars isn’t fancy.  It’s a Greek restaurant where you place your order at the register and they bring it to your table.

Oh, but it was a place of another revelation.  I’m changing a lot.  And one of those changes…coleslaw.  For years I have been convinced that the only coleslaw I like or will eat has to come from KFC.  Well, last week I had coleslaw from Bojangles and I liked it.  And last night I had it from Showmars and I liked it.  Maybe I really simply like coleslaw.  Huh.  Hey, I didn’t say it was some major epiphany, but since it involves me and food, it’s noteworthy.

And the night was fun.  It went like most nights there.  Only not quite.  Lonnie broke his foot so there was no sparring.  Good for me, not so good for the guys.  They love that.  We met another one of their neighbors.  I liked this guy better.  The last one creeped me out.

Oh, and since we’re talking about being creeped out…they have a lizard.  Now, I don’t understand lizards as pets.  When we lived in our first apartment down here, we’d leave the back patio door open all the time in nice weather.  The cat liked to sit outside and sun himself.  And since we were a good fifteen feet off the ground, I never worried about him taking off.  Lizards, however, constantly came in.

They were usually the blue black variety, or the occasional green gecko.  They never spoke.  And they seemed as eager to leave as I was to get rid of them.  To me, not a pet.  And I suppose part of that has to do with what they eat.

So, Lonnie and Lindsay had taken Miss Cleo, who it turns out should have been named MR. Leo, to the vet.  He had a case of worms from a bad cricket.  Seriously.  (I’m not a fan of indoor crickets either.)  Now they had to give the lizard antibiotics and other meds.  And the vet recommended a change in diet.

Lindsay: Have you ever seen a Madagascan roach?

To be honest, I’m pretty sure the ones that climb out of the sewers around here are simply labeled as the common Palmetto bug, but I’ve never asked them for passports, papers or other identification before crushing them, so who knows?

And they brought over a Rubbermaid container that held a slew of these special roaches scampering around.  Miss Cleo’s food.  Yum.  And I was standing behind HIS chair as we looked at them.  I leaned over and whispered.

me: It’s all I can do to not stomp them right now.

HE smiled.

Then it was feeding time.  And soon Miss Cleo is placed in a big plastic container with one of these roaches.  Oh, and HE picked the roach and put it in there.  (I made him wash his hands before ever touching me again…with soap!)

It was like fight club.  Only…I’m talking about it.  And it wasn’t exactly an even match up.  I was hard put to root for either.  Yet, I’m glad their lizard is getting better.  They are rather attached since they’ve had him/her eight years.  And I’m glad the new food agrees with him.  And I’m really glad that HE has never suggested we might need a lizard to round out the family.

We came home around midnight.  And we started to get ready for bed, but…the kittens needed us.  Yes, we ended up playing with them for a while.  And the runt needed a feeding.  And while I moved to warm the bottle, HE insisted upon doing it.

There’s something so wonderful about seeing HIM, this big often gruff man, warming a bottle.  Yeah, I get all warm and fuzzy inside.  And my biological clock starts ticking like this.

HE wanted to feed the baby.  We’re a little concerned because the other eye hasn’t opened entirely.  We may be raising a Popeye.  I’m not going to sweat it.  Just like I didn’t sweat it when he took back that Rachel could keep a kitten.

HIM: This is the part I was worried about.

We were sitting there playing with the kittens, picking them up and loving on them one after another so they all received equal attention.  He would hold them against his chest and let them nuzzle into his neck.  Awwww!  That’s one of my favorites spots.

me: What part?

HIM: The attachment part.

I smirked.  I couldn’t help it.  I know him.

HIM: You know me.  I’m an animal lover.

Yeah.  I know.  That’s how we ended up with Gracey.  And if we can’t find a home for all of them…ugh, I shudder to think.

Kittens, anyone?

Posted in Furry Family Members, Reflections | 2 Comments »

Love means never struggling alone…

Saturday, May 22nd, 2010

It was Thursday night.  I had such high hopes for the evening.  We had been so productive all day at our respective jobs, and already that evening working the business together.  Rachel had stayed after for a concert and Keenan was his normal quiet self.

Only I was starting to discover that my kids were really kids in some respects.  I was finding that they needed a little more supervision than I thought.  I came back in the house after visiting with the neighbors before dinner only to see Keenan lounging on the sofa.  My first thought was…A Keenan Sighting!  He does exist! And my second…

me: Did you do your chores?

Keenan: Yup.

We all know that lingo, as parents.  For those of you who don’t, allow me to translate.  What he really said was, “Maybe.  I’ve done all I plan to do, unless you are going to check behind me and push the issue.  Now leave me alone so I can get back to the television.”  You had no idea that one word could mean so much, huh?

me: Okay.  So you did the cobweb removal?  You scooped the poop in the yard?

And he was up off the couch, spluttering and went straight to work.  Score!

me: And HE will be checking later to make sure that you did a good job.

Great.  Now I just had to go tell HIM that.

So, I ran out to get the kitten bottle and formula, since the runt isn’t doing well.  And I decided to pick up dinner, since I was too tired to cook.  There’s no way to feed three people more cheaply than Taco Bell.  I swear.

I paused on the way out to take HIS order and catch him up.

me: How many tacos?  And I told Keenan you were going to check behind him on the poop scooping.  He’s getting lazy.

HE smiled.

HIM: No problem.

Dinner was good, but late.  It was starting to get dark.  And we were distracted by the prospect of bottle feeding a kitten.  I went to prepare formula and asked him to make a hole in the nipple.  For some reason, they don’t come ready to use.

Well, the formula was mixed and poured into a teeny tiny bottle.  (And I thought Keenan’s preemie bottles were small.)  And I was waiting.  And waiting.  And…finally I went out to the garage to see what was taking so long.

HE was drilling a hole in it.  Of course.

HIM: The razor wasn’t working.

If it’s possible, watching him prepare a nipple for a kitten bottle made me love him even more.  Then he went in the house with me and first watched, then helped me feed the runt.  We’re encouraged.  So encouraged that the Little One, that’s what I’m calling it since runt seemed ugly, ate a few more times that night.

Well, that accomplished, he went out to hang out and I did some work on the computer.  Soon, I heard yelling outside and Rachel bounded into the house with Bishop.  She rushed to the fridge with excuses of not being hungry when she was out with her friends and plopped on the couch to eat and talk to me.  Seconds later, HE walked in, clearly upset.  He was wringing his hands and everything.

HIM: Rachel, you can’t speak to me that way.  You can’t tell me to shut up.  And you did it in front of the entire neighborhood.

Let me tell you how that went over.  There was some eye rolling, which made me want to do some head rolling.  Instead, I sent her to her room to get HIS side of the story.  Then we went to confront Rachel.  Yes, we.  We spoke to her together.  Moments later, I spoke to her alone.

me: You were out of line and you know it.  I’m really disappointed in you.  You know better than to be disrespectful like that to ANY adult, but especially HIM.  Look at all we do for you.  You humilated him publicly, you will apologize publicly.  Show you are the person I thought you were, the person I raised you to be.

And I went outside to hang out, vent, and wait.  And wait.  And wait.

She had made it as far as our garage.  She stood staring across the road at us.  That’s when HE gave her an out.  He went to the garage to talk to her, give her a chance to apologize and save her pride.  Yeah.  That didn’t work.

Soon she was in the house and he was back talking across the road at Ed and Laura’s.  The four of us compared parenting techniques.  And argued.  And HE was a little unnerved.  We talked more alone.  HE was realizing he was going to be taking on more of a parenting role, being a step-dad.  He doubted his abilities.

HIM: What I’m used to is the situation where the mother handles everything and goes to the dad when it doesn’t work.

me: Ah, the old…don’t make me get your father?

HIM: Right.

me: What I’m used to is pretty much handling everything.  The ex wasn’t home and usually wasn’t available for back up.

In the end, it seems we have opted for a middle ground, same as always.  We went to shut down the house.  And then we worked on our plan for the next day.

HIM: I’m sorry I didn’t check after Keenan.  I’ll do it tomorrow.  I have the ground paint ready.

me: Huh?

HIM: I’m going to circle all the poo piles in paint.

me: Awesome.  Is it orange?

HIM: White.

me: That’ll work.

It does work.  We work together.  When a new issue arose, I spoke to him about it immediately.  I thought I was just venting.  His response?

HIM: Okay.  So, I’ll have her do her chores, then send her to her room until you get home.  Then we’ll talk to her together.

Huh.  A ‘we’ and a ‘together’ all in the same sentence.  I’m struggling right now, trying to be the best mom possible, but at least I’m not doing it alone.   I picked the best partner to share my life with.  Damn, I love this man.

Posted in Parenting, relationships | 5 Comments »