clickmom

klepto me too

I fought back the tears the whole 2+ hour drive to Matt's camp this morning. This past week I felt like a caged tiger just pacing the cage waiting for an opportunity to burst out an unattended door. I wanted my kids back. Waiting was rough. When I slid into the truck this morning I had the feelng that once I got my babies back I would be me again (still not exactly feeling like myself) I felt like I was about to get a crucial part of myself, of who I am back.

The missing part of me might not have taken shower since he last saw the rest of me two weeks ago at visiting day.

I fought back the tears all the way home because to be honest the part of me that came home from camp was downright pungent. My missing piece also managed to neglect his hair again, and somewhere he decided that he might as well not shave for the entire camp experience. Yummy! And to think, just 24 hours ago I wondered if my piece would let me hug him as much as I wanted to! Hahahaha, the joke is on the part of me that showers!

My missing piece hasn't stopped crying since he left camp either. Since me, the unmissing, took a thorough shower this morning before departure I knew it had to be for a different reason. I assumed it was because camp was so incredibly excellent that my missing piece was sorry to see it end. He said that was correct. Except my missing piece couldn't shake the tears, didn't want to eat (okay, he does have a little head cold) and couldn't muster the enthusiasm to think of anything he wanted to do. Hmmmm

After my missing piece showered I sat him down for another big dread lock comb out. During the comb out, when I had to give him a break so he could sob for a minute, I figured that this was more of a broken heart scenario than an "I love my camp!" break down so I asked him if he had a girlfriend at camp. He said he did. And he had this girlfriend the whole time, well except for the last week because his 17 year old (YES! 17!!) girlfriend got to go on this trip because she was not a camper but a CIT and she got caught shop lifting on a trip for CITs and then her parents took her home and wouldn't let her come back. So I asked him if aside from being a kleptomaniac if she was a nice person and he said she was. And also that she wrote to him from home.

So let's review: 15 year old Matt has a 17 year old girlfriend.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Sorry, I passed out on the key board there.

Okay, where were we, Matt's 17 year old girlfriend shop lifts.
.
Oy Vey.

But Matt she is a quality person.
Who shop lifts.
On a camp trip.

The good news is that Matt's 17 year old klepto girlfriend lives 2 hours away.
.
The bad news could be that she might have a drivers license.

I am so not ready for this.

But here is a confession; When I was 16 my parents sent me on a teen tour. I hated it. The one thing that got you immediately kicked off the tour was shop lifting (and having sex but the 7 little boys on that tour with me (the virgin) were not an option). So I shop lifted my way across the United States in hopes of getting sent home. I never got caught even I slipped something into my pocket while talking to the sales lady. I must be a more talented thief than Matt's girlfriend. Hopefully she'll outgrow it too.

5 reasons I feel weird

1. I had to tell the nursing home nurse that scumcle was not right in the head and she admitted to me that he had made a big scene during a recent visit and refused to understand why grandma can not walk. He hauled her out of the wheel chair to make her walk and the staff was all sure they were both going to end up on the floor. He only remitted when the nurse promised that she would get the physical therapist to call scumcle and help him understand grandma's condition.

2. I came home today to pick up Matt tomorrow and Evan on Sunday. Josh stayed in utopia. He is going to stay with two different friends over the 3 days I am gone. I am kidless.

3. I keep sneaking foods I am allergic/intolerant to like donuts and ice cream. I want the comfort foods. I spend almost as much time in the bathroom as I do peering into the fridge. Eating all this crap isn't working. I don't have any other tricks up my sleeve for feeling better. I don't know what to do.

4. In my real home there is nothing to sweep. At first it was a great relief but now I am beginning to feel twitchy and uneasy.

And numero 5. I got a condolence letter from the good doc today. He signed it "Love, Dan"

romantic dinner for 5

First off, if you know why mosquitos always go for the tops of my feet please tell me while I still have a layer or two of skin left that I haven't scratched off.

Next off, I am about as close as one can get to having a nervous breakdown over the amount of construction soot the devil can drag into the house in her fur every 6 minutes when she exits and reenters the house with out actually being admitted to the looney bin. My sweeping blister is now a full fledged sweeping callous. And I might have an injured rotator cuff injury due to the aggressively sticky nature of the wet clumps of dirt the devil leaves in her wakes. Seriously! It's like finding little gray magic sand castles all over the floor. Even when I try to block off rooms with stray hunks of cardboard. She still manages to destroy!

My utopian friend came over to hang with her kids this afternoon and afternoon turned into evening which turned into "Ooops, I guess the kids need dinner, huh?" So we ended up at a mexican place. At 9:30. I know, I can't believe it either, ME the bed time drill sargent sitting in a restaurant with my 7 year old at 9:30! And guess what happened around 10. The power went out! So for a while we munched by the light of my trusty iphone. Then the waiter brought what (curiously enough for a mexican restaurant) appeared to be a sabbath candle stuck to a dessert plate. And when we asked to pay for the tasty gas inducing bean laden cuisine, the waiter said his calculator couldn't handle our big order and suggested we leave a credit card with him and come back and anti up tomorrow. Hahahaha. Can you imagine? The waiter couldn't add up 5 entrees and a couple of sodas. This country is going to hell in a hand basket folks, seriously. So I whipped out my trusty iphone and added it up myself. I gave him a generous tip in the hopes that he will sign up for some kind of remedial math class, but I won't hold my breath.

Does anyone else remember the old days when cashiers not only had to know how to add but they also had to make change without looking at the register to do the math for them? Remember when supermarkets had to put prices on the food so the cashier could type it all in? One digit at a time? I feel old tonight.

knob

My dad, because maybe he is testing the strength of my heart tonight, told me that scumcle called him and told him that when he went to see grandma she told him that she was "bored and unstimulated" at the nursing home and wanted to "break out." Scumcle is worried that she not being intellectually challenged. Dad, being the good dad that he is said something to put scumcle in his place (go dad!) but still, what a shit head scumcle right? I wish I could just forget about scumcle and never hear from him or about him again. But I would still want my statue back.

I took Josh to hang out at lil sis's today. In a uncharacteristically stupid and harmful move Josh decided to drop half filled with water plastic pail on my 9 year old nephew's head. What's that word for a big head bump? According to my thesaurus any of these will do: lump, knob, swelling , protuberance, bump and burl. And I think burl is only something you get on a tree, but I stuck it in that list because of how the word just kind of flows off my tongue like sweet dessert liquer. Buuuurl. It seems quite fitting actually. If there was a medal for speedy head buuuurl formation my nephew could have gotten the gold. Because no sooner did the sickening sound of weighted plastic colliding with skull hit my ears than did the neph call out "Oww! I have a bump!"

And he was knot kidding. (guess who is getting tired as she types tonight!)

OMG folks, I though the kid was going to go all airhead commercial on my because that thing got swollen fast. Lil sis commanded me to run for ice, which I did and thankfully it all unswelled pretty fast too. Man, I hate being the mom of the kid that did the idiotic thing. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it sucks! And Josh, who normally does not put himself in the position of needing to apologize finds it very difficult to choke those magic words out. He almost got his own little mommy special delivery protuberance because he did not cooperate in the apology part of the after party but fortunately he did eventually choke out a lame- apology along with a whisper of a "I didn't mean to hurt you." Just in the nick of time.

When the husband's visitors came last weekend one couple brought their almost 7 year old daughter. I sat Josh next to her at dinner in hopes of getting them friendly. Finally the pretty young thing turns to Josh and coyly says "I have a lot of clothes." (hair flip) Josh sees her wardrobe and shoots back with a "I have a lot of video games." Ooouch, score points for 21st century technology! So pretty young thing, not to be out consumered by a lowly prepubescent male offers up an all encompassing "I have a lot of toys." Josh, not one to beat around the bush leans forward on his elbows and stops her dead in her tracks with this come back of the week: "So, tell me, exactly where are we going with all this?"

it's for the fish eggs

When I packed up grandma's apartment (the first time) back in 2/2006 so that I could move her to the OFH near me, I packed up two cartons of kitchen stuff to bring up here to utopia. Well, I did bring those two cartons here to utopia and they quietly sat in the corner being ignored by me until today. Honestly, I would have contentedly ignored them for the rest of the summer, but a carpenter guy had to prepare that room for a built in book case in and I had to take the stuff out of it. So I did.

And I lugged the two cartons of kitchen stuff over to the kitchen and hauled them onto the kitchen island and I even opened them and took all the carefully wrapped in year and a half old newspaper stuff out of those cartons. There were old lady drinking glasses, old lady, roaster pans and old lady serving trays. I was pretty excited to see some of the handier cooking stuff, and can even remember grandma teaching me how to bake a brisket in her roasting pan or fry some liver for chopped liver in her frying pan.

There was an inordinate amount of curious in origin old lady tools and gadgets, most of which could, with a little imagination, be used in the bedroom by someone such as an irate woman on her unsuspecting husband's tender man parts, which I proudly displayed along with demonic gaze and evil laughter for both the husband and the good natured contractor. You know, just in case someone needs incentive to stay in line. Just in case.....

And also, it seemed that grandma, during her power purchasing days, had a thing for teeny tiny itty bitty stuff. There were teeny tiny forks (lobster?), itty bitty bottle openers, and a diminutive little frying pan. Half an egg anyone? Much to my surprise I spotted what appeared to be 4 minute gold plated coke spoons. And I thought "Wow, grandma! You wild child!" And then I realized that those coke spoons were more than likely caviar spoons, and I snickered at the thought of the grandma that I know today eating caviar and I put them back in the box for safe keeping.

slouch

The visit is over. And it went quite well, I think. Naturally the visitors were all thanking us and saying nice things about the house on their way out today. But really I think it was all good.

The two visiting wives admitted to not actually really making food. One said that she merely warmed up pre-made frozen foods (except for when she said she gave her kid home made waffles. from a mix. which to me is not homemade.) and the other one said she cooked, but didn't use recipes or anything , she said all her food was bland. The two women compared "recipes" which included things like caned soup and cake mix. I almost gagged. But I always suspected that those mothers with the totally spotless kitchens didn't actually ever cook. This I totally do not get because I love to cook. Ah, well, yeah duh! I love to eat. I love to find an interesting recipe, chop up some good tasting herbs and prepare something that tastes good and is good for us. I better remind the husband how lucky he is tonight. I think I will. Over and over. I can't believe people don't cook. That is freaky. People do not make their own food. Wow.

In other visitor related news, the two visiting couples each brought me some nice little housewarming gifts. One brought some cakes and some cool itsy bitsy individual guest soaps. I really liked the soaps. The other couple brought some high end oil thing and a plate set to serve it on so we can dip bread in oil or something. I'm not getting all happy thinking about dipping gluten free rice cakes in oil, so that will be a guest related activity and not a daily dinner routine. I'm not 100% sure about it, so I'll probably serve it up to my (guinea pigs) babes the next time I invite them over, but the plates were like the totally perfect color for our house AND they came in a cute little metal framey thing holder, so I have to figure out where I can put them so they are visible since me and decorative bric a brac are not destined to meet, I have to take advantage of this charmed gift.

Anyway, about the gifts.... I realized that I have atrociously bad manners, no not manners, I have atrociously bad etiquette. I in all likely hood would not have brought me a gift. And if I did decide that I needed to bring me a gift I would have had absolutely no idea what to bring. Here is something I now I should be ashamed of but am not really .... thank you cards. I don't force my kids to write thank you cards (like the forced ones we get from every party my kids attend) after parties and stuff. I know, kill me now. I have good intentions every single time, I have stacks and stacks of unused thank you notes in every theme from Dora to Dino to Spiderman. They aren't even opened.

I'm a slouch. Except in the kitchen. Maybe I should just bring something cooked!

first guests

Last winter when we thought for sure the house would be finished (hahahaha) by now and I told the husband he should invite some friends up to the lake this summer. I certainly invite mine up, and I wanted him to share the incredible that is this lake experience with some one(s) too. So the husband mentioned it to two of his work buddies.

And now we are living on a construction site instead of the completed version I fantasized about all winter.

And on last Monday the husband reminded me that this weekend was the weekend that he had invited the friends up for. And we didn't know what to do about it. We thought that maybe if he didn't bring it up they had forgotten, so we went with that plan. 24 hours later the husband calls me up and tells me that the friends did not forget. Damn! I said he should tell them they have to wear mud boots when they walk down to the lake for a swim. Didn't phase the friends. I told him to tell them advance about the dog as dirt agent and they have to take off their mud boots before entering the house but they'll likely be walking barefoot on dirty dog floors in the house anyway. Didn't phase them. BBQ not hooked up yet? Piece of cake. Vehicles will appear to have off roaded it for the weekend? No bother. Wife alternating between psychotic and morose states of mind? Hey, there is enough wine for a guest to cope.

So, two couples and one kid are showing up today. sigh. I am so not in the mood. Instead of putting clean linens on the beds and running around preparing I would much rather sit on the porch in my typical brain dead position and watch the little scooper thingie drive around bringing gravel and sand to the guys who are doing the lakeside patio.

I am keeping calm by remembering how much I like one of the wives. Also, at least they are only staying for one night.

PS please notice that I am posting this at 6Am. The husband woke me up at 5AM when he couldn't sleep. Now he is heavy breathing on his side of the bed and I am wide awake. Revenge ideas welcomed and considered.

brain junk

Last summer I had plowed through about 5 novels by this time. Last summer every night when got Josh off to bed at a reasonable hour I would read fora few more hours. It really paid off all winter when I don't have time to read but could pretty much say "I read that" during every bok related conversation I happened upon. I brought a huge bag of books up here with me this summer but can not seem to crack open a single one.

Part of it is because I keep letting Josh stay up way past his bed time. Part of it is because we are living on a construction site and the damned devil dog keeps bringing truck loads of dirt into the house in her fur and I spend hours a day sweeping. (I have a broom blister on my right palm as proof, in case you have ever seen my regular house and know what kind of lax house keeper I typically am) , and also I think it is because I am reluctant to read because reading is more real than tv viewing and I fear something bad happening to someone in any of the books I might pick up. I am shying away from sorrow this summer.

When I was in Florida after my mom died my cool step sister (There are two step sisters. They pretty much wanted nothing to do with me and lil sis until three weeks ago. But now they are making an effort to be "family." I'm trying not to let the strangeness of it all overwhelm the necessity of the gesture. The four girls are all dad has left. We should be unified.) and I discovered that we have similar taste in television series. When I got home a package arrived with the first season's dvds of nip tuck, which I had never seen and the cool step sis told me I would love. It was a gift from her. I am currently a season and a half into nip tuck. This summer I am addicted to nip tuck. I don't feel particularly intelligent about it.... but it's something to do. I figure someone else must be watching because the show has been on the air for a nice long run, but I can't find a single person to chat with how creepy I think Matt looks with his resemblance to Michael Jackson (Am I the only one who sees that in the kid?) or how annoying it is that Julia always look like she is crying or why they don't hardly ever show the daughter, or how hot or not the two main characters are...

Anyone?

Especially the thing about Matt. I have to find another soul who agrees with that one.

all here

My heart almost stopped today when the phone rang and the caller ID had my mom's name on it. I froze. Then I realized it was Dad. And this is how well he is doing: He met with a nutritionist to figure out how he is going to feed himself. He has never cooked anything more than toast or a Lean Cuisine in his 88 years. He is coming up to Utopia for most of August. And I volunteered to go back to Florida with him and stock his freezer with home cooked meals. He said he would rather learn how to cook it himself and maybe I could show him when he is here. My heart almost stopped again. I told him to make a list of every thing he wants to be able to cook. Awesome right? And if I could have squeezed through those tiny little fiber optic cables all the way to Florida just to give him a great big hug and kiss (or four) I would have.

In other news, as in no bad news is good news, grandma's wound has not grown in the past week and the nursing home nurse tells me it looks like it is beginning to heal and even scab over. Hmmmm?? Can grandma beat MRSA? All of a sudden I have a tiny ray of hope. But I am keeping it tiny for now.

But the post I had floating around in my head to day went less like who isn't dying yet and more like this:

When Matt was a toddler I took my cues from the other moms of Y chromosomed toddlers and would linger when I passed heavy machinery so Matt could watch and get all man-ified. Then I gave him steak. ( joking!) I realized that the other lingering mothers, in their similar states of false enthusiasm, did not call the machinery "the yellow thingie with the scooping thingie" or "that big red truckie thingie" but instead actually knew the official manly construction vehicle names. I even tried to learn those names myself. But not long after I had barely committed the most basic of construction vehicle names to my useless pot infused (hello? college grad here!) short term memory Matt took a giant developmental leap in expressiveness and began to speak in full sentences. And one of his first sentences, much to my relief, went something like "Mother, please do not offend my gentlemanly sensibilities by requiring me to watch this nonsensical display of mechanical machismo. I'd much rather quietly enjoy my farm animals book. The cow says moo. Would you mind strolling us along now?" And I said "GAWD! Could I love this kid any more than I already do?" and I forever strolled away from all sites under construction.

Then Evan and Josh came along and neither one of them ever cared for construction vehicles either and so as usual I got off easy!

So, tonight when I pulled up to utopia and saw that a big yellow scoopie thingie was doing something quite exciting I had to scream "Josh! Look it's one of those big yellow scoping thingies! I can't believe they came!"

You see, the old torn down utopian house had this really gigantic awesome boulderish rock in front of it. The contractor wanted to blast it way with dynamite but I told him he couldn't. After all, the rock was here first. You don't mess with something that predates your existence by at least a couple of million years. You know? Also, I have a special feeling for that rock. One it was here BEFORE and I figure we have to leave something, anything from before that we can. Also, you see this is a big one, on our second annual babes weekend in utopia one of the babes had this idea for a group portrait. We all pulled our shirts off of our shoulders and stood behind the rock so that it looked like we were naked. Oh yeah, we all made very successful "come hither" faces too. (And if you have been reading here for a while you know who's idea it was don't you? Naturally, it was wildmom's)

So when the contractor tore down the old villa du toxic mold he had someone with a big yellow thingie simply roll the rock away from the site. And the rock sat there, all sad and neglected for almost two years until today! When I came home and the other yellow thingie was shoving the rock into the place where I requested it go. You see, in the old location the rock separated two paths to the house. It wouldn't look right so close to the house anymore, but now it defines the path to the new outdoor toilet! Which is way cooler than sounds because you have no idea how utterly joyous it is going to be to have an outdoor toilet. Seriously, it is going to be a nice outdoor toilet, with it's own boulder defined path and I am going to make the path very very special. I mean, it already has it's own boulder! (which I am thinking of naming Darren after one the architects on our job.) finger wagging your disbelief away Just you wait and see!

What? You want to see now? Well, you know this area is still a construction zone. The boulder is kind of still dirty. I am going to plant around it... But okay, if you insist.

Just
be
nice
with
me.

And
appreciate
that
I
am
making
Josh
take
this
photo.

And
hoping
no
one
comes
down
the
driveway
for
a
visit
until
I
am
back
in
the
house
and fully clothed!

TA DA!

Just Kidding again!

dreaming

Lil sis got a new camera. And so did her friend. They did not know how to use their cameras so they came over here to utopia to get a lesson in digital SLR.

I love talking shop!

I can't decide what I should do when I get home this fall. I want to photograph, I want to paint, I want to live at the posh gym. I just want to focus on me and what I want for a while. Like really focus on me. Like a lot. Like someone better teach the kids how to cook and do their own laundry. Hahaha. Like that's gonna happen!

I can dream though..... And that is precisely what I am about to do.

smothered

I was starting to feel guilty about how I am still so very numb that I wasn't feeling like I missed Matt and Evan enough while they were at camp. The truth is that I have been enjoying the simplicity of only dealing with one kid at home. Last summer, when I was chomping at the bit to send the boys off because it had been a difficult year, I turned around by day 4 of their camp adventures and felt like I couldn't breath until all my chicks were back in my own nest. This summer, well, I don't really feel anything. Except I am kind of appreciative of the fact that they are around people who are not walking around in some kind of emotional daze.

But then today we hopped into the car to visit Matt today for his visiting day and by the time we reached the sleepy little town we drive through on our way in, I was shaking I was so anxious to see him. And then I had to fight back the tears. And I wold calm myself down. And then I'd tear up again. Until finally we got to his camp and because it was raining all the kids were waiting in their bunks but the camp asked us to check in and pick up some info packet first. And I could not wait another second so I left the husband to pick up the forms and ran all the way across the campus to get to Matt's bunk.

And then I gave him the biggest hug I could. And then I hugged him again. And because Matt is pretty much used to me being an emotional wreck, and is amazingly tolerant of my never ending melodramatic roller coaster ride he hugged me back. And he looked so good to me. (With the one exception of the total rat's nest of knotted hair on the back of his head that I managed to brush out using about 1/2 a bottle of detangler and taking a good 25 solid minutes to do so. You should know that the front of his hair was somewhat presentably brushed) And he was so relaxed and sweet. We took him to the movies, and out to lunch. The shopping for some new sunglasses. Matt didn't know that you couldn't carry your sunglasses around in your pants pocket. He knows now! And at the same time, I picked up the detangler and did the deed (brush out) in the mall parking lot so as not to embarrass Matt in front of his camp friends.

Speaking of camp friends, we were sitting with Matt right before we left and heard "MAaaatt!" and a girl ran over to Matt, who was seated at the time, and wrapped her arms around the top part of him, while pressing her bosom over his face. My baby boy's face was smothered in bosom. I was ... astonished. Uh .... Yup, astonished fits. Matt tells me they hang out sometimes and are just friends. I wonder if Matt is aware of the not entirely subtle hints that girls give to guys they "hang out" with. Hmmm.

over the edge

We hopped into the truck to make our way home around noon today. It was a quiet morning. We spent it sipping coffee and eating (I am so sick in my stomach right now) donuts with the agent who first showed us utopia and to whom I will be forever grateful. He wanted to see the new house so we called him and asked him over. During our chat he told us how his girlfriend was dying of cancer and how they had just taken what he believed would be their last trip together. I sat there listening while in the back of my head thinking to myself that I am not ready to hear about other people's suffering. The whole last year for my mom was really about silently suffering (which she did) and that is where the pain is for me. Even though mom never let on to how bad she felt it was obvious. One day she asked for a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. At the end she had left all the dough pieces in the bowl. She reluctantly admitted she was too exhausted to chew.

Driving in the rain up the causeway I was relieved to not have to hear about the agent's girlfriend. I feel for her. Maybe too much. And then we came upon this....
Our neighbor, who I call the sentry, had gone on a dump run while her husband, who did not feel well, slept in. The sentry had taken their new puppy on the errand and when she returned and tried to park in the roadside platform about their yard her brakes gave out and her car did not stop but instead rolled straight over the edge. She was bumped and bruised from the crash and burned from the airbag. The puppy had been tossed forward from the back seat but was fine. When I realized it was the sentry who had been in the car I almost fell to pieces. The sentry is my mother's age. I couldn't bare the thought of anything bad happening to her. If the sentry had been hurt in that accident... I just don't know what I would have done.

loving here

Spent the evening at our utopian neighbor's house watching the fire works both from other houses on the lake and from their own dock. Then we all sat around a big bonfire. Their other out of town guests were confused as to just which kids belonged to whom. And that is because around here all the kids go from house to house as a big group and every one looks out for all of them. "It takes a village" is appropriate. And that is only a fraction of the reason why I love this place so much.

Tomorrow we are heading home. I'll see grandma tomorrow and then go to Matt's camp visiting day Sunday, see grandma again on Monday while the devil gets her summer buzz cut and then hop back into the truck and get myself here again. I just can't be here enough.

hi ... ma

I left Josh in the capable hands of my utopian neighbor for 27 hours while I went home and visited with my frighteningly contagious grandma. When I arrived back in utopia Josh was in the middle of eating lunch. He was devouring something he never would have tried with while with me. Be was enjoying his first BLT. Well, technically he was having a BLNothing since he does not like raw tomatoes, but the point is that he was eating a new food with someone other than me. My utopian friend was sure glad to see me, and so were her visiting parents. Josh however, did not seem to notice that I was back. I had to tell Josh to pretend to be happy to see me and only then did he look up from his sandwich long enough to say "oh, yeah.... hi ..... ma." with as much enthusiasm as say me looking through my daily mail and getting only credit card bills. Now, I am sure deep down inside that this is a totally healthy response, and that all my prolonged nursing, co-sleeping, and baby wearing did indeed result in a more independent child just like that book said it would, but a hug or a smile or a cheerful "welcome back!" would sure have been nice.

can I get you something?

I saw lil sis yesterday and told her I was running home to see grandma. I told lil sis that I didn't think it would make much of a difference to grandma and that I was doing it for myself. But iside I hoped that it would make a difference to grandma. I'd like to believe that she does know how hard I am trying and how much I love her.

I saw grandma. She looks the same. She acted the same. But I knew what was lurking under her black polyester elastic waist band slacks. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. The whole time. Grandma does not know she was in the hospital for a week. She has no idea where the IV bruises came from. When I left her in the care of the wonderful cheerful loving nurse, Dee, I asked grandma if she would like me to bring her anything special tomorrow. She said, No and then she asked me if there was anything she had that she could give me. I said "NOO00oooo" and grandma told me she would look around the apartment to see if there was something she thought I might like. Dee stood behind grandma, gave that raised eyebrow "whoa baby" look and I walked away knowing for sure that any time I go see grandma it isn't going to be for her. It will be for me. Grandma is already living in some other world.

antibiotic resistant

I am running home tomorrow to visit grandma, who was moved back to the nursing home today. While I am infinitely thankful that grandma did not have a bone infection, I am holding back any kind of relief because she does have MRSA. When I got off the phone with the doctor and I was shaking with the shock of the news my first instinct was to call my mom. I wish I didn't think like that anymore.

I am overwhelmed with guilt that I brought Evan into the ER with me when grandma was first admitted, though I do take solace in the fact that he and I were both so utterly creeped out by being in an ER (OMG I forgot to tell you about the hooker looking woman who came in for abdominal distress and had a screaming match with the nurse when the nurse told her she couldn't strut around the hallway with her privates hanging out in front of my kid! Sorry about that) that we stopped at every single hand sanitizer dispenser and practically sanitized right up to our respective arm pits. I did call Evan's camp and ask the nurse to check him out. Since she did not call back, I assume that she found him to be MRSA free.

Obviously I won't bring the kids into see grandma and to be honest with you, I actually feel a little faint just going in there myself. I am already a teeny tiny bit germ phobic and do admit to a small cuticle cracking hand washing problem, and I can't figure out how I am going to feel clean after being back at the nursing home. I wouldn't mind a Silkwood kind of scrub down afterwards, but I don't know where to get one.

I am going to leave Josh up here in Utopia with a friend. And that means that tomorrow night not only will I be away from my three kids, but each kid will be at least two hours from me in three different directions. There better not be any kind of natural or unnatural disaster tomorrow, that's all I am thinking.

Grandma has to go back to the nursing home in isolation, which means that she can not share a room with anyone else. Something happened to grandma's roommate while grandma was in the hospital and I wonder if it was MRSA related. The social worker at the nursing home was (suspiciously) understandably tight lipped about dear Lucy's sudden departure. But the good news is that grandma gets to return to the same room and not have to listen to Lucy worrying about just about everything under the sun. Not that grandma even knew Lucy was there.

Wish me luck and let's hope Sylvia (my truck) holds up under all the pressure while I put 5 thousand miles on her in the next two months.

pissiness

I got pissed today for the first time in two weeks. Wow, I can't believe it has been two weeks. Seems like way longer than that. Seems like forever and yesterday all at the same time. But the good thing is that I was pissed. I have kind of missed pissed. And really, indulging in the petty pissiness that I waded right through today means that I am no longer in shock, so recognizing this I just jumped right on in head first and I didn't hold back. But here is the problem, ahem, I may have dropped the F-bomb to one of the architects who is STILL (dragging his anal retentive ass) working on my house. Also, I may have sent an email to one of the other anal retentive as draggers which in essence said that he was too lazy to look up more than one extraordinarily over priced set of bathroom accessories and he should stop wasting my money. I believe I called the prices of what he picked out "obscene". But you know what? I was right. And you know what else? If I had to do it again, I'd do it meaner because that is what some certain people in the industry need to hear from a woman before they show a little respect. And also, it's how I know I am going to be just fine.

letting go

There are some things you can just never understand until you have been down that path for yourself. Being in love is one of those things. So is losing a baby, so is having a baby, having an addiction, being a survivor of any number of terrible things, and also, and now I know, so is losing your mom.

In the perfect world I would have a scrolling message board on my forehead which would right now read something along the lines of "Lost Mother. Fragile. Lost mother. Step lightly. Lost mother. Hug me." exhale.

sigh.

But I don't. The best I can do is hope that people talk about me so everyone kind of knows already and I don't have to actually say what happened because the words which tell what happened do not easily come out of my mouth.

When I took Evan with me to the chiro I asked Evan to tell the chiro while I used the bathroom just so I wouldn't have to hear myself say it either.

The closest thing you can get to that scrolling message board as a jew is this torn back ribbon you pin to your shirt. Some people wear it for the seven days of mourning we call shiva. But for some reason the rent-a-rabbi that did mom's service told us to wear it for 30 days. (I am thinking maybe he grew up orthodox. I'm too tired to look it up. You can if you want.)

So I was wearing the torn black ribbon on Day 9 when I took Josh to Massachusetts to a utopian friend's birthday party. And one of the other mom's who was hanging around asked me who was close to me who died and it turns out that she lost her mother a couple of years ago too. And I practically fell into her arms. And we talked all night. And I felt so instantly close to her because she knew exactly what I was feeling and thinking and she listened so well as I talked and talked and talked because some part of me is still trying so very desperately to make sense of all that happened and be okay with how she lived since her first surgery and how she died because she had to do something to fight the disease. And this other lady, having been where I am right now, had the patience and thoughtfulness to listen and listen and ask questions and be so very comforting and wonderful to me, a perfect stranger walking down that same devastating path.

I may have developed a girl crush on her.

But then right before she left, she asked us if we liked her new boobs. And having had already noticed (and also having silently filed that info away) that they were boobs of the totally fake variety, I got (surprisingly) all excited that her too big for her 0% body fat body new boobs were new and fake I yelled "Congratulations!" with more glee and sincerity than I could possibly type. It was like I had been called down to play Price Is Right or something. And then, feeling like I had met another soul mate on this planet, I immediately followed with a wide eyed "Did it hurt?"

And she sat back down so we could talk some more.

ouch

The thought that some kid would make fun of me in front of my kids is occasionally in the back of my mind. I used to think about that when Evan was smaller because Evan is so body conscious.

Yesterday evening Josh and I were at the birthday party of a utopian kid friend and it finally happened. Josh came to me in tears and was so upset he couldn't talk. I guessed that he did not want to have to say what happened, and since the kids were all older (and therefor meaner) than Josh my gut knew that my worries had finally come true. So I knelt down in front of Josh and asked him if some kid was calling me fat. And he nodded YES.

I got Josh to point the kid out, found his name, and told Josh to watch what a coward the tough talking kid really was. I got in his face, announced his name and said "I hear you have something to say about me, why don't you try saying it to my face, little boy?" And the kid just stared at the ground. I kept pestering him in that manner until the kid finally looked up and said "I have a problem with you, you're fat." I almost fainted, because at the second I saw the ugly hateful life this kid was doomed to live. He was saved by the crack of the pinata and ran off to gather up some candy. I told the hostess mom what had happened, just so she could hear it from me first and the right way, and she called the kid's mother and send him home.

Then Josh and I sat down and talked about the kind of kid who trash talks someone and where they are coming from and what to do. I told Josh that it didn't bother me, what the kid said, and I hoped that he could find a way to let it slide. I told Josh that I am looking at people and wondering what kind of people they are on the inside and not judging them by how they look. The birthday boy's big brother sat with us and he said all the right things, and I know Josh looks up to him.

The worst part of about this is that my being fat hurt my kid.

saw

It's 2:14 and an hour ago the tech from the hospital called me to ask questions do she could do the MRI on grandma's leg to see if she has another bone infection. I have been shaking like a leaf for an hour. My gut is prepared for the worst and if it is as bad as a bone infection, then another battle between me and the scumcle will commence.

One of us thinks that it would be inhumane to allow grandma to die of a bone infection and thinks that another amputation would be the correct route to follow. The other one of us thinks that amputating the leg of a 96 year old demented, but still mostly sweet, old lady is cruel and inhumane.

Since, in my journey here in this world, all want to do is what is right and fair, and at the end of the day, when I lay my head down on the pillow I would prefer the least amount of regret possible, please feel free to share your opinion. All arguments, both pro-amputation and con-amputation will be carefully and thoughtfully considered by me.

I like to be prepared for the worst, but welcome a pleasant surprise. I'll update with results later.

hazy

I am feeling too sad to post today. Grandma has a serious infection in her leg. I am worried. I am about to take Evan to camp, another mixed bag of feelings for me. I am glad he is going but worried about him as usual. Josh and I will head up to utopia for the night and then to Massachusetts to see some utopian friends at their real home and also the goddess. But just for a day. And then most likely we will have to come home and take care of grandma, but I am trying not to think that far in advance.

I might just paper blog for a couple of days. Maybe. Maybe just short iphone posts. I dunno. I am so very tired, I know it is still the shock of everything.

I leave you with this image. I snapped it at the airport on my home from the nice weekend I spent with my folks 2 weeks ago. Hang around and ponder it for a while. Then you'll know how I feel.

burning

At the funeral home they gave us shiva candles. Dad lit his candle when we got back to his house after the funeral, but the rabbi told us we should light ours when we got home. A shiva candle is a tall thin glass with a plain white candle in it. It burns for seven days.

Right now my candle is quietly burning away on my stove downstairs. Every time I walk through the kitchen I see it. It sits there gently flickering and steadily burning down. At first the candle made me feel kind of panicky. I thought it was burning too fast and wasn't going to last the seven days. But now I think the candle just burns faster in the beginning and slower towards the end. Then I thought about all of the poetical flickering life burning down/ wick/candle in the wind lyrics I could write.

I don't really know what to feel about the candle. It offers me no comfort. But it does have a very strong presence for something I don't have to feed or water or let out to pee. It doesn't make me feel less gypped. I worry about the house burning down.

I wonder if I am supposed to be magically healed when the candle goes out. Or maybe I am supposed to stand up and shake off this funk at the end of seven days. I could pretend that everything is ok once the candle goes out. I guess. I just don't know what it means. Maybe I want someone to tell me how to feel.

Things are not okay right now. Grandma is in the hospital. She had a skin tear on her leg that didn't heal and ended up today with a fever, an infected wound and it turns out cellulitis and a pretty serious blood clot in her leg which is preventing blood flow to that leg.

This leads me to think that maybe mom is calling grandma over to the other side, and I feel comfort in that thought because seeing mom again would be a very pleasant surprise for grandma. Also, my grandpa is over there, and so is grandma's brother and her first child who died at age 2 1/2. It sounds like a fun family reunion, no? When I came home from mom's funeral and ran over to the nursing home to see grandma and realized how very out of it grandma was, she had no idea how long I was gone for, I just saw that grandma wasn't really in grandma's shell anymore. And right now I do not feel sad when I think about maybe losing grandma, I feel at peace with it because I imagine grandma in a better place.

I had to call the scumcle and let him know what was happening today. I hadn't planned on talking to him so soon. He did not go to see grandma in the hospital because he said, he slept all afternoon. He said he couldn't sleep enough since the funeral and that sounds like depression to me. I hope he is depressed. I really do. He has a lot to be depressed about. He messed up his relationship with his sister, and everyone else on this side of the family. At least being depressed proves he is human.

camp letter

Dear Matt,

Leaving you at camp yesterday was such a mixed bag of emotions for me. I was so proud and happy of the young man you have become. I know you know that, but watching you confidently stroll around the camp really brought it home for me. It warmed my heart to see the smiles spread across the faces of the campers and the counselors as they realized who you are. It was obvious to me that you are a well liked and enjoyed contributor there at camp, and that only ads to my already swollen with motherly pride heart.

And as I told you 66 kajillion times (which you so graciously didn't clobber me for each and every time) I am going to miss you like crazy. I am going to miss your laugh, and that knowing look you give me when one of your brothers does or says something not kosher, and I am going to miss your hugs and our jokes and teasing you about your hair, and the stink of your feet, (have they made you store your sandals outside the bunk yet?) and also just having another (almost) adult around to listen to me rant and someone with a level head to bounce ideas off of and also because you are my friend, my son. I really like you. (Not all moms can say that!)

The first few days are always the hardest for the mommy, you know that right?

Today I dragged your brothers around on some errands. We returned some school books I found lying around the house, and went to the bank to deposit some checks. I deposited some for you. There were three here from NaNa and PopPop's bar mitzvah stocks for you. We tried to go back to the barber for them to fix Evan's dumb looking hair disaster, but they aren't opened on Monday. Then Evan got to go to the dentist where he had two cavities filled WITHOUT NOVACAINE. So brave!

After that we grabbed Ev's pal, headed for the mall to pick up shorts and underwear for Ev and then we hung out with the Boop's family until dinner. We went out to eat together and I told Boops about your super mature blanket and she totally got the joke. Ev, however, was totally mortified, which I found fascinating, since it was Ev who dressed as a woman (complete with make up and high heels) last year for Halloween. We tried to explain to him how if you are cool about it then it's a big joke and everyone laughs WITH you instead of AT you, but he remained doubtful. Maybe in a few years he'll relax a little bit.

I love you darling,
Have fun .... and be serious about that video!
I expect to see something amazing from you.

Love, Mom

not entirely gone

On Monday, once dad's daughters had gathered around, dad told us that mom's birds come to the back porch every evening and that we should listen for them. He said that every day at dusk mom really enjoyed watching and listening to the birds. And then he told us about the birds again. But no one really had the focus to go out side and wait for the birds. I don't remember if we noticed birds that evening. It's all a blur, but I am pretty sure no one even looked for mom's birds.

Mom used to tell us that if there was an afterlife she would find a way to communicate with us. And knowing mom's fierce determination we knew she would. So, on Tuesday when I ran over the grocery store for more tissues and bananas with my step sister, I stopped in my tracks when we walked out into the parking lot and saw this:

You can't really tell, but there were some serious heavenly rays coming from those clouds, and I thought to myself, "Hmmm... heavenly rays, mom in heaven, could it be?" and when I got back to the house, and lil sis told me that there had been a magnificent rainbow behind the house, I wondered even more. But then when lil sis told me that she had called my kids out to see the rainbow, I thought to myself, "I really do think this feels like mom." But deep down inside, I pleaded with mom to give me a sign that was just a little more definite, like a handwritten note or something else kind of unmistakable. And then I told lil sis that I had seen an exceptional sky from the grocery store and showed lil sis the picture. And she took my iphone into her hands and stared and stared until I screamed "What?!?!?" and lil whispered back "Is it me or do you see an opened mouth bird in those clouds?" Holy cow, ma!

Then on Wednesday we had the funeral, and afterwards dad's house was packed with all of mom and dad's friends. When it began to get late and the first batch of people decided to head out the sky opened up. So we sat there watching and waiting for the rain to stop. And then lil sis announces another rainbow.

And I run for my camera, because, wow, two rainbows in two days? And we go outside, and not only is there a rainbow but there is a rainbow that arches right over mom's back yard view and we can see both ends as crystal clear as day. And a crowd of mom's family and friends gathers to see this extra amazing rainbow. And 50 people are standing around gazing left and right at that beautiful arch, when a second rainbow appears right around the first rainbow. And it is amazing.

And I declare, that mom always did everything in a big way. And everyone laughs, because it is so true. Because seriously folks, if you saw mom's jewelry drawer you would know that one single rainbow would never do. I have never seen a double rainbow before. I am snapping pictures when lil sis asks me to look at the cloud forming just inside the inner rainbow and lo and behold the tiny little cloud balls are most definitely in the shape of a J. J is mom's first initial.

And now I think to myself, "OMG, I asked for a written note, I'd say her initials are written" So I begin to wonder what it looks like on the other side of the house. I manage to slip away from the crowd, and I head for the front door. Not a rainbow, but not too shabby, right?

And then on Friday, when I was sitting there thinking about how brilliant the sunsets had been all week, and I wondered if it was chance or mom, I happened to glance out the window and even on the plane on my way home from florida, I got the feeling that mom was not done entertaining us yet.

sighing

And I thought I was stress tired before! HA!

I am still walking around in a total disbelief induced haze. I tried to explain this feeling to Matt today and I told him how it's like I have a life map and the life map is everything that is true in my life and someone just snuck right in while my back was turned and I was feeling all safe and sound and that someone went and erased this right now part of my map. And now I am standing here and I am looking at my life map and there is a big empty blank part and I think that maybe I have to grab a pencil and get to work and start this damaged section over but I am just not sure how to do it or what to put in the empty spot. I'm frozen. And I can hardly think. So right now there is lots of nothingness on my map. Because my map was partially erased. And I am not sure what goes in the blank spot. And I don't know when it gets filled in again or even who's job it is to do that. I just don't know how to reconnect the dots.

sigh.

And Matt, my sweet baby Matt, is going to his sleep away camp tomorrow. And I'm not sure how that is going to be for me this year, since without the map and all I just kind of want to knit my kids into a big blanket and wrap them around my very tired shoulders while I sit here rocking back and forth trying to digest what happened and trying to figure out what the next move is. Letting matt go to camp is kind of like being the camper who accidentally falls asleep and lets the campfire go out. It seems like a really dismal prospect. For me. He's going to have a great time.

sigh again.

my life

Three of my parents woman friends took charge of taking care of our family for the past 5 days. They were unbelievable. The three little women would silently slide in and out of the house several times a day, laying out the many platters of food that were delivered all day long, and then turn up later to wrap and store everything for the following day. They brought in plastic cutlery, huge coffee urns, trash bags, and box after box of cookies. They made coffee, emptied the trash, laid out their own table clothes, wiped up spills, and cutest of all, they sent over their housekeepers to tidy up the house at the end of the day. I want to be like them. I am channeling their graciousness as I write this.

In true "this is my life fashion" the limo driver fell asleep behind the wheel on our way from the chapel to the cemetery. I'm not kidding you. He dozed off at a time when all of us in the car had fallen silent. I was in the third row, mindlessly staring out the front window trying to wrap my mind around the reality that in the hearse in front of us my mom was lying in a box. I was staring at the back of the hearse, when I realized that it was getting farther and farther in front of us. I sat up straight and saw that our driver had checked out. I started yelling "Poke him! Poke him!" to my step-BIL in the front seat, but he was frozen in fear. Then the limo started to drift to the left just as a big lawn service truck with a trailer full of mowers was passing us. Lil sis yells out "DUDE WAKE UP!!" and the lawn service guy lays on his horn and the driver regains his (awake status) composure and falls back into the funeral line. Can you even imagine how hard it was for us to get back into that limo with him after the burial? We were imagining the headlines in the next days paper "Six family members and limo driver perish on their way home from local lady's funeral" No thanks.

The scumcle did show up. I figured he would since he was in the country and it was convenient and all. Also, I was sure that there was something he had not stolen from someone yet and he probably wanted one more chance to scope out mom's house. There had been discussion of the scumcle and his antics before I managed to get to dad's side on monday and my very sweet cousin did thoughtfully conceal the two sculptures of grandma's that mom still has. In true scumcle fashion, he comes up to me at the well stocked buffet table a mere hour and half after after we get back to the house (as in my mother had not been in the ground for two hours yet) from the cemetery to ask me if I know where something he once gave to grandma is in mom's house. Yup. You knew it would go down like that right? I mean, who puts the scum-bag in scumcle? Mine does. Though truthfully, his cold as ice wife was following him during the whole ugly interaction and I am pretty sure I saw her holding the puppeteer strings, so in the end, I am still (and maybe I am just being incredibly stupid, but to imagine that my own flesh and blood could be so heartless is devastating) left wondering which half of that couple is so the idiot savant and exactly how the other member one figures into that kind of social deficiency. Maybe they are both socially inept. I dunno.

So this is how it went down. I am standing there surveying the dining room table, plate in hand staring at the abundance, wondering what, if anything, I will be able to keep down, (turns out I can keep an awful lot of corned beef down) when the scumcle glides in. First he expresses concern that somehow grandma is going to force out of him that mom has died. And he feels that he will not be able to lie to her. I tell him that grandma will not be asking about mom, since she can not remember mom and that he is not to under any circumstance bring up mom or her death because that would only serve to upset grandma. It's everything I can do not to slap his face, he is so stupid, because scumcle still won't admit that his mom is losing her marbles. Then one of mom's friends comes over to ask me a question and I tell her that I will be returning in a month to help dad clean out mom's closets. Scumcle hears the word closet and says "Speaking of closets, once I gave grandma a shawl, and I think she may have left it here..." And I cut him off.

Here is the background, scumcle gave grandma a cashmere shawl. A few years later grandma pulled the never used cashmere shawl out of her bureu and gives it to mom. Mom stashed the still unused cashmere shawl in her own closet. Then the whole scumcle stealing statue situation took place. Not long after the scumcle was going through grandma's drawers (as was his custom) when he realized that the cashmere shawl was gone. He wanted it back. He questioned the family and Mom said he could have it back if he gave me my statue. Mom has been hanging onto that shawl as a kind of collateral for the statue.

I said to the scumcle "I will not talk about that now" He persisted. I said "Do not talk about that now." he persisted. I said "Stop talking!" He went bla bla bla... I looked around, realized how much more horrible the day would be if I punched him (I could have pounded him right into mom's tile floor I just wanted him to stop talking) like I wanted to and I said "I am walking away, I will not talk to you" He followed me talking! I said "Go away from me, Do not talk to me" "Stop talking to me" and he followed me around the house talking about the fucking god damned shawl, which to tell you the truth internet, I did not even know or care where it was. I was trying to walk toward little sis who would have protected me, but she had at that exact moment hidden herself in dad's bathroom to do some bathroom business and had no idea what was going on. Luckily my cousin saw scumcle on my tail, grabbed my other cousin and my step sister to separate us and when I stepped out on the back porch he was not right behind me anymore. I am so deeply saddened and somewhat appalled by this. What could possibly be wrong with this man?

only thursday

Oh my goodness. I can not believe the wonderfulness of my parents friends. I am going home tomorrow humbled and in awe.

Dad is holding up pretty well. I am afraid of what happens when we leave. My (surprise!) step sister is staying until Sunday morning. Yup, another admission. I have two step sisters. They were both already out of the house when my parents got married so I never lived with them, so they didn't contribute to my current state of neurosis. (hahahhaha...just kidding)

Obviously I am over tired and getting giddy, also, lil sis and are are, well, let's just say that neither one of can drive a car right now.

Monday seems like a month ago. A very long month ago.

funeral today

Mom's funeral was today. When we met with the rabbi yesterday dad said that he wanted to say something during mom's service and he wanted lil and me to say something too.

It is unusual for such close family members to speak because it is such an emotional experience and family members can rarely hold it together. Dad wrote and wrote all evening long but in the end he decided that he couldn't go through with it. But he still wanted me and lil sis to say something.

Here is what I said (minus the parts that I ad-libbed and didn't write down)

I've spent so much of the last two days asking myself "How do I sum up mom? How do I quantify my mom?" and "Is there one property or one single story that embodies mom?"

And the answer is NO. Obviously. Mom was as multidimensional as every beautiful loving person in this room.

But, you know, I had ideas. I had several ideas. I thought about telling you about the time when I was 5 and my friend from the building was over, and we were sitting in the kitchen with mom and mom was just cracking us up. I don't remember what she was saying or doing but we were hysterical laughing. It was pure happiness.

I leaned back in my chair and thought to my 5 year old self "My mom is the funniest most fun mom in the world!" And what a wonderful warm feeling of tranquility came over me. We laughed with mom all the time, and I hope you did too.

I also thought how maybe I should remind all of you what a fighter mom was. Mom was tough. After all of her surgeries she fought her way right back to norma. Mom had carpal tunnel surgery in both hands, carotid artery surgery, back surgery and two major abdominal surgeries in the last two years. YET... you would never know it. Mom was unstoppable. Mom was a force to be reckoned with.

But I don't want to talk about that either.

What I want to tell you about is mom's advice to me when I was a young hormonal, sulking teenager.

One day mom confronted my abyssmal teenaged attitude. And this is what she told me.

Mom said "Last night I walked into a restaurant and every head turned to look at me. DO you know why?" And naturally being a teenager, I either didn't know or I had nothing nice to say, so I told mom NO and then mom said "I walk into a room like I own the place. I might not be the prettiest one there, or have the fanciest clothes, but I put my chin up and my shoulders back and I walk through a door like I am royalty."

And then I shut my teenaged mouth because I knew it was true.

So from now on when I think about mom I will choose to picture her dressed to the nines, (you know that is mom!) walking into the room, or the party or even the back yard, head held high and proud with all the confidence in the world, just like the happy, laughing, dynamic, warrior she was in real life.

Thank you.

tomorrow will be bad

Funeral is tomorrow. We dread it. We can't believe it is true.

We are very tired. We are drained. We have had little sleep. We have had much emotion. We are afraid of "taking something."

We are utterly and completely overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of our parent's friends and neighbors.

mom died

Mom died this morning. I thought we had a little more time.

Just a little bit.

I really wanted her to spend a couple of weeks with us in utopia this summer.

I wanted her to love it too.

I am so incredibly thankful that we went down to see her last week.

I am leaving for Florida for the funeral.

not looking good for Louise

I was going to name this post "it's curtains for Louise" but I thought that maybe that was too confident. Here is the deal. Back when I dragged myself to the chiro after the fever broke over a week ago he said I was testing positive for bacteria that responded to goldenseal. Now, I believe in the magical wonder of the herbs as much as the next lefty flake out there but aI cannot for the life of me figure out how people realized they worked in the first place because if I was the primitive person who came across a field of goldenseal and tasted it I would have totally blown the "keep looking" horn or made the "this stuff sucks" grunt and sent my clan on to keep looking because YECH!

But I did take the goldenseal in capsule form. People, even the capsule stink. But I my tumy hasn't been right since getting sick either, and after the sushi puking incident, which also involved a handful of supplements, I haven't had the stomach to take any supplements.

But then Louise was killing me, and I thought let me try to gargle with the nastiness that is goldenseal and see what happens. And I gargled once, nothing happened, gargled later and took a couple of goldenseal pills, louise went down a little, so I repeated that one more time last night and this morning Louise is suspiciously quiet. She's still there all right, but she has trimmed down a bit and she doesn't hurt.

I hope I am not jinxing myself here, but I think Louise and I might be parting ways soon, but not soon enough for me.

praying

I have been saying the serenity prayer a lot lately. It goes like this:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

When I say it to myself I try to emphasize the accepting of the things that I cannot change part. That wisdom in the fourth line is crucial too. They pretty much go hand in hand. Serenity & wisdom, I am trying. Some days are easier than others.

Grandma is having increasing difficulty keeping up her end of a conversation. She can't remember the names of items (she called an umbrella a fan today) and she says things that come out of the blue and are totally out of context. Today she said something about "following the plan." I asked what plan and she got embarrassed and admitted she was confused.

I made my mom cry. I saw this guy who is dying of cancer on Oprah and he knew exactly how is gong to die and he had plans for every step of the way. I realized that mom and dad should have plans too. Then at least I (or we- whatever) can help them get the kind of end they want. So I called my mom and I tried to be gentle. Except my mom said she had placed all her eggs in the basket of her current chemo and wasn't thinking she was going anywhere soon. And I told her that this is the kind of thing she needs to plan now before she needs it (though in my mind not that far before she needs it) and she tried to say dad wouldn't talk about it and I told her to tell dad she had to do it to get me off of her back and she started to cry and told me that she knew she was in denial. No kidding. Then lil sis told me that I was too harsh with mom and it was only natural for her not to be wanting to go there.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

unusually

Last week when I went to good doc he did a strep test and a throat culture. He called me the next day and told me the strep test came back negative. My 3 day fever had broken by then anyway so I wasn't incredibly worried. Then the kids and me and Louise, my humongous lymph node, hoped on the plane and went to Florida where we hung around with my immune compromised parents, my 7 month old nephew and the rest of lil sis's family. When I came home I visited grandma, of course, and also my editor at her home and photographed her brand spanking new 2 week old very first grand daughter. And not only did I photograph her, I also shared some of my extensive baby soothing abilities with the father of that delectable new baby and held her teeny tiny little defenseless body as I very expertly rocked her gently off to sleep.

Then the next day good doc calls and says with some hesitation, "So, uh, how are you feeling?" And I tell him I feel pretty good except that Louise is hurting me and she has most definitely worn out her welcome. And the good doc tells me my throat culture came back and , chuckle, it seems that I was harboring a very "unusual" and "rarely seen" form of strep bacteria. And I almost faint thinking about how many people I could have made sick in the past week. But the good doc thinks that once the fever was gone I was unlikely to have been contagious. Then I start wondering how bad it really it is since good doc, who normally is very up front with test results did not email me the results or mention the exact name of the very unusual strep I was afflicted with. And now I wondering if Louise is somehow strep induced and kind of want to go against all my own personal anti western medicine tendencies and hook up my own home made antibiotic IV. I figure if I hug my legs and rock and forth chanting "get out of me get out of me" while waiting for the antibiotics to take effect it would pretty much mean that I look like the loon that I am going to become if Louise does not resolve herself in the next 20 or so minutes give or take 12 seconds on either side. Also, I am pretty much convinced that what ever Louise is she is deadly and I have to call the lawyer and change around my will. The internet can be such a dangerous place for a hypochondriac like me.

sad tongue

Still feeling overwhelmed at the realization that I had mentally prepared myself for the worst when I went down to Florida to see my folks and instead of being pleasantly surprised by something or even anything, I pretty much experienced what I had prepared myself for. Even lil sis said to me our last night there that she didn't want to say it but that she didn't think mom was long for this world. I saw it too. I felt it too. It's like the life is just being drained right out of both my parents and they are just sticking their fingers in their ears and screaming LALALALALA and they keep prodding along, because that is what they do, do not let the neighbors know anything is wrong, except mom and dad are getting slower and slower and the distances are getting shorter and shorter. But they put on their best clothes, and slap on a brave smile and they keep pretending like it's not all that bad or scary or breathing down their necks. I dunno know how they do that.

Mom did do something completely out of character though. She thanked me for taking such good care of grandma and then she tearfully thanked me for bringing the kids down to see her.

Went to see grandma today and the news is not good. She seems to have made a big step towards losing her ability to assign the right words to what she means. It broke my heart. She didn't want me to see how frustrated she was getting. But I did. It would have been obvious to anyone. I wish there was something I could do. I look around at the people who are only shells of the people they used to be and I fear grandma is headed in that direction. One of the aides told me that grandma tries to punch her when she has to bath grandma each morning. Also, she said that grandma had slapped the hair dresser lady when she washed grandma's hair. If grandma keeps this up I am going to have to go to battle because I know the nursing home (that I love so much, the people are so gentle and kind there- please don't fuck this up grandma!) will want to sedate her and then she'll be one of those wheel chair recliner veggie people. So after a very nice visit, where I made grandma a photo album of all 6 of grandma's great grand children from our trip, I told grandma she had to be nice and she couldn't hit the aides and grandma was appalled that I would say she ever hit anyone and got mad at me and wouldn't kiss me goodbye because I waved my finger at her and told her "No hitting!" So I kissed her and left because I was late to pick up the kids and I didn't have the time or the energy or the emotional resources to get back on her good side and I figure she won't remember she is mad at me for more than 20 seconds.

When I went to get acupuncture tonight the needle guy after looking at my tongue and my pulses and my astrology charts and how thick my wallet is (kidding on those last two) said something was amiss and it could mean a couple of things one of which was that I was deeply sad. And I was like b-i-n-g-o look no farther.

vacation album posting from home

I can't believe I drove this monster. I can't believe I did not run other drivers off of the road while driving the mammoth. What a stupid car!

Matt wants his baby cousin to call him Uncle Matt. Matt can't wait to grow up.

Evan aka: Marty Feldman

Relaxing in my mom's pool.

Overcoming his fear and actually feeding a giraffe a little very expensive cracker.

Me and the rents. Mom has aged 15 years since diagnosis. She looks like crap for mom. It makes me sad.

Uncle Matt=awesome babysitter! Hello hot tub!

I had the best seat mates ever for the plane ride home. Nobody!

vacation report from home sweet home

Here is the deal I mentioned with the rental vehicle.

Before I left the husband went on line to rent my rental car and he said "Hey about renting a Hummer!" and naturally Evan was right there over the husband's shoulder drooling all over the laptop and I had to say "Okay" because the offer was already on the table and I didn't want to be the party pooper. After a fine flight we made our way to the rental center, signed all the paper work and was told which spot our vehicle was in. WHen we first walked up to it I almost cried. Probably the only reason I did not cry was because the mammoth was parked in a spot that was clearly marked COMPACT CARS ONLY and I was distracted by the idiocy of that thought. But the truth is that I was afraid of the mammoth and it was way bigger than I ever imagined it would actually be and the sheer width and height of it makes my truck seem like a scooter. I was (this is the under exaggeration of the year) a wee bit reluctant and (scared outta my mind) nervous as I drove off of the lot, but the airport put us right onto the highway and the hotel was right off the highway and I remembered the hotel having valet parking, so I talked myself off of th