Spelling lessons...

I asked J and Shawn to write a note for me on the dry erase board. I needed to send my mom an email with vehicle guidance to my daughter's Christmas Concert.

I'm thinking spelling lessons are in order, however, their phonetical expertise is unmatched.

This is the message I got:

Send derwrackshins to gramma for consert.

Thanksgiving

Thank you to Grandma mom for initiating the gatherings we have today. These traditions started with you and have you in them every time we break bread together. Thank you for being who and what you are to all of us.

Mike, thank you for reminding me that patience isn’t my strong suit and I need to work on that. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes when I want you to be four again, that you need to be fourteen. Thank you for having such strong convictions that you will fight for them. Thank you for being you.

Lisa, thank you for being just as crazy as I am. Thank you for peeling thirty pounds of potatoes so that we could enjoy as much kougali as our family needs. Thank you for being my best friend, good-bad-and ugly. Thank you for you.

Alex, thank you for reminding me that patience, again, isn’t my strong suit and I need to work on that. Thank you for reminding me of that over and over again, apparently I am not getting the message. Thank you for reminding me that everyone has a unique vision and without exceptional thinkers and risk takers we would not have the technological, medical, and scientific advances that we have today. Thank you for being you.

Jon, thank you for putting up with my “holiday” crazies. Thank you for cooking four pounds of bacon just because I asked. Thank you for being my best friend and finding a song in all that we do…(Except for pickles, there are no good pickle songs…why is that?). Thank you for you.

Caetie, thank you for letting me see life through your eyes. My life would be black and white without your bold and colorful humor and vision. Thank you for letting me see exceptional self-worth and extraordinary strength of character. Thank you for the honor of being your mom. Thank you for warning me of the repercussions of Pancakes On Wednesday and that Pigs are people, too. Thank you for being you.

James, thank you for reminding me that patience is a virtue. Thank you for reminding me that resilience is good. You always make every situation you are in work for you. Thank you for reminding me that thoughtlessness and carelessness with words are bad and that they can hurt someone for a long time. Thank you for loving me just cuz. Thank you for reminding me daily how I got so lucky. Thank you for believing that I can fix anything, because I can if you believe it. Thank you for you.

Shawn, thank you for reminding me that you can look at things from a million different angles and to do so, you have to get into pretty weird positions. Thank you for reminding me that different is good. Thank you for reminding me that laughter is good medicine. I LOVE BEING PURPLE! Most importantly, thank you for making bacon a part of my life again. Thank you for being you.

Megan, thank you for reminding me that everybody needs to rest. They need to power down their bodies, their minds, their souls so that when day breaks again they can dance. Thank you for making life have a theme song, and possibly a montage. Thank you for you.

Mom and Dad, thank you for reminding me that strong solid foundations can withstand adversity, sorrow, pain, hate, and ignorance. Thank you for being there, even when I couldn’t see it. Thank you for you.

John and Scott, thank you for letting me know early on that patience was not one of my strong suits. Thank you for doing that over and over again. Thank you for letting me practice parenting before the real thing. You were good teachers--note to self--no lighters allowed in the house, no glass blowing, no copper pipes, no “strange” butter brews in the fridge…seriously, I love you both and wouldn’t be the mom I am today without having been your big sister first. Thank you both for being you.

Jen thank you for always letting me see the other side of a situation. Thank you for being “best aunt EVER” and taking such good care of what is mine…why couldn’t you do that when you raided my jewelry box? Thank you for being my little sister. Thank you for letting us share Jim and all that he adds to our family—damn fine barbeque. Thank you for you.

Uncle Tom, thank you for realizing that the most expensive gift isn’t always the one you remember the most. Thank you for still being fearless and sharing that with the kids. Thank you for letting us share Tina and her family this year! Thank you for you.

Tina, thank you for being a part of our family this year and opening your home and lives to our crazy mixed-up family. Thank you for sharing your children and family with us. Thank you for loving football. Thank you for you.

Tommy, thank you for being here this year with us. Thank you for your quirks and your dreams. Thank you for you.

Thanks to all the family and friends that cannot be with us in person today. Thank you for being part of our family, immediate and extended over the years. Our family wouldn’t be the same without you.

Thank you Gram for helping me to see what grace looks like. Thank you for letting me know it is ALWAYS okay to speak my mind, as long as it is truth. Thank you for never letting me forget that there is royalty in our family line and it starts with you. Thank you for teaching me how to make Kougali, the “old” way and how to spot a bargain when I see one. Thank you for teaching me never to settle. Thank you for you.

And finally, thank you Grandpa for never letting me forget that some of our heroes always stand tall and never fade from glory or stand down from a fight. Thank you for letting me see that when you make a mistake the hardest part is admitting it, but that it also the most important part. Thank you for always being there, to help raise our family, to serve our country, to re-tree the planet one tree at a time, to tell stories that are funny and sad and happy and joyous, and thank you most of all for always letting me believe in the magic behind the candy lipsticks.

Thanksgiving.

Classic Cars

J was talking to Lisa and wanted to know how much money we could get for our classic car.

Lisa wanted to know which classic car.

J says, "Benjamin."

"Benjamin" is our 1987 Buick LeSabre.

Classic.

Quote

There is a quote that has been running through my mind lately, I don't know who originally said it, but it goes something like this:

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want,

doesn't mean they don't love you with all that they have.

There's wisdom in those words. Now, how do you use that wisdom?

Getting to know you...

My mom sent this to me.
I'm supposed to fill it out and send it to her and all of my internet friends.
I decided that was too limiting.

I'm blogging it.


What is your occupation?
On a daily basis I am an adult, child, sister, daughter, friend, lover, confidant, chef, cook, baker, teacher, chauffeur, doctor, lawyer, nurse, CEO, CFO, co-parent, vet, clerk, singer, actor, student, typist, music store, police, detective, judge, jury, ATM machine, listener, gardener, artist, sandwich-maker, maid, laundromat, writer, dreamer, miracle worker, boo-boo kisser, and THE BEST and WORST mom in the whole world.

What color are your underwear?
Ewww. I don't even want to know what color YOUR underwear are, so I am not telling you what color mine are...keeps the mystery alive.

What are you listening to right now?
The cat eating. He is really loud. Apparently Sgt. Pepper thinks that he is a dog and that Timmy is in the well and he is going to take me there if I just stop typing and listen to him and follow like I'm supposed to.

Musically? I just watched CSI from last Thursday and Mad World was playing. I really like the "new" cover.

What was the last thing you ate?
A new Hershey bar with Reeses' Pieces in it.

Do you wish on stars?
Always.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Green.

How is the weather right now?
Foggy. Summer fighting the good fight and trying to maintain it's grasp and losing.

Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Kevin asking me if he could borrow my car to go to Antioch.

Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yes.

How old are you today?
34 years and 133 days old

Favorite drink?
Well, that is a loaded question.

I mean if I am eating oreos, then my favorite drink is a tall, cold glass of milk.
If I am eating really really REALLY spicy mexican food, then nothing is as good as a cold Mexican beer with lime.
Christmas-time it would have to be Gramps' spiked Southern Comfort punch.
Those hot days in the summer after doing something that made me sweat (this summer it was getting out of bed...) nothing is better than an ice cold glass of water with lemons floating in it.
Those lazy days of the summer when there is nothing special going on and it wasn't too humid outside, then a nice bowl of vanilla ice cream with a root beer .
Normally? Pepsi or Orange Fruit 2 O.

Favorite sport to watch?
Bowling
Synchronized Swimming
Any sport a Chicago team is excelling at.
(GO SOX!)

Have you ever dyed your hair?
Yes.

Currently it is dark brown on the underside of my hair and my natural blonde color on top...why doesn't anyone tell you that your hair gets darker the older you get.

Do you wear contacts or glasses?
I wear both. I LOVE my glasses, but I recently got purple contacts. They are cool.

Pets?
Three cats--Melvin T. Cat, Sgt. Pepper, and King Arthur
I recently lost all of my sea monkeys. I am still in mourning.

Favorite month?
October

Favorite food?
Grandma Mom's homemade bread.
Grandma's Spaghetti and Swiss Cheese with onions
Dad's baked beans that mom has been making for 20 some years
Nana's date nut bread
Gram's Kougali
Aunt Lynn's hamburger and eggs
Everything that grandpa ever cooked at Woodhaven
Grandma Kissel's pound cake
Mom's sloppy joes
Gram's banana split cake
Mike's spaetzle
J's chocolate muffins
anything Caetie makes
Megan's cookies
Jon's steak on the grill
Uncle Tom's potato salad
Grandma's pasta salad
Aunt Lynn's green fluff
Mom's bran muffins fresh from the oven with butter and honey drizzled all over them
Lisa's snickerdoodles and meat luv
The Hudak family's pierogi's
My chocolate chip cookies
Pilar's tacos and salsa

What was the last movie you watched?
Sin City--it was great, I loved it.

Favorite day of the year?
October 3rd--October is my favorite month, 3 is my favorite number

What do you do to vent anger?
Okay, in theory--think about the cause of the anger first, then I talk about it, explain it, and try to let it go.
Still working on the whole thinking thing...it's hard.

Fall or spring?
Fall

Cherry or Blueberry?
Cherry

Do you want your friends to email you back?
Yes, I love hearing from friends.

Who do you live with?
Lisa, Jon, Mike, Alex, Caetie, James, Shawn, Megan, Melvin, Arthur, Pepper, various spiders and other crawly insects and bugs.

When was the last time you cried?
Last week.

What is on the floor of your closet?
Sheets.

What friend have you had the longest?
Jeni Savage

What did you do last night?
Stayed up trying to finish my Excel final exam project so that I can get 100% and try to figure out what the heck Excel has to do with medical transcriptioning.

Favorite smell?
Fall
Rain at Woodhaven
Wood fires
Grandpa
Mike Largent when he'd wear his Drakkar
Vanilla Fields

What are you afraid of?
Heights

Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers?
Cheese

Favorite car?
The new VW bug
A late 60's model MG
Benjamin the Buick

Favorite dog breed?
Cairn Terrier
Scottie dogs

Number of keys on your key ring?
Seven

How long have you been at your current job?
almost 14 years

Favorite day of the week?
Tuesday

How many states have you lived in?
Two--Illinois and Wisconsin

How many cities have you lived in/name them?
FOUR
Chicago
Ingleside
Wheeling
Lake Geneva

That was nice. Memories are cool that way, they just hang out until you need them.

One tire, two tire, flat tire, blew tire...

I have learned more about changing tires in the past three weeks than in all of my thirty-four years.

I was getting ready to go to my sister's birthday party at the end of June and I noticed that my front passenger tire was a little low. We went out and got some fix-a-flat and drove it around, pumped it up to full capacity and that seemed to do it. It was totally fine for MONTHS!

Three weeks ago the trouble started.

J and I got home from grocery shopping and I hear HISSSSSSSSSS. The freaking tire is FLAT. Rim touching the ground flat. Thankfully we were at home when it happened and not on the way home with a carload of groceries.

Jim and our old neighbor Kevin came over in the middle of the night and changed the tire. We put the donut on it and it said that it can be driven for about 50 miles.

Lisa called me from the grocery store two days later and told me that the donut blew out and she was at least able to slowly drive it into a parking lot. She let the store owner know that it was there and that we would take care of it as soon as possible. Then she had to walk home.

Anyone who lives paycheck to paycheck knows how this went. We had just paid all of our bills so we only had enough money for gas for the week, and barely at that. So, we have to wait until the next payday to replace the tire.

I called around to EVERY SINGLE STORE THAT SOLD TIRES in a thirty mile radius and Walmart was the only place that sold CHEAP tires. So, payday arrived and Jon and I went to Walmart, got our tire, went back to the parking lot, and changed it.

Actually, I changed it. I asked him to show me how because, since I drive an older car, I thought it was possible I might actually need to change a tire. It was the first tire I had ever learned how to change in 34 years. I KNOW that every child that lives in our house and drives any of our vehicles will know how to change a tire.

I mean, if you have never changed a tire before, go and look in the trunk for the jack. Where is it??? I never thought to acclimate myself to WHERE the jack was, just figured that when I needed it, IF I needed it, I would be able to find it. Let me just say, if you have never changed a tire before, GO AND LOOK IN THE TRUNK FOR THE JACK!!!

My jack was hidden behind a cute unmarked little door. It was put in there by some puzzle-maker and they forgot to leave directions. Who knows that these things are there? Do people go into car dealerships and ask to be shown these things when they buy a car? Shouldn't it be part of the selling process?

"Thanks for coming to Bob's Used Vehicles, we have plenty of cars, and each one has it's own complicated procedure for changing a tire. Step this way and we will begin!" No wonder it takes HOURS to shop for a car.

Mini-vans usually have a little panel clearly marked with JACK on the front of it in the "trunk" on one of the side walls. Full-sized vans have a compartment under the back bench for the jack and any tire changing accoutrements. Pick up trucks have tire changing equipment hidden in a compartment behind the passenger side seat, also made by a puzzle-maker. If you can figure out how to get the compartment open, there is a little plastic sheet of instructions strapped into the arrangement. Find that first. Makes the whole process a LOT easier!

One other important step. Make sure that you read your vehicle manual to figure out exactly where you are supposed to place your jack. Most cars have you place it right behind whichever front tire you are changing and right in front of whichever back tire you are changing. However, you HAVE to put it on part of the FRAME of the car. You can't just put the jack anywhere, trust me on this. Make sure that you know where the jack goes in case of flat tires. Get under the car and familiarized yourself with the spot. Mark it with purple nailpolish or spray paint, then you won't forget.

Then you need to locate the spare tire. My spare tire was hidden in an unmarked compartment under the carpet of the trunk. The van's tire was obviously on the back of the vehicle in a cute little cover with a locking thingie on it, try getting that little lock off in the heat of trying to change a tire on the side of the highway with cars zooming past you. May as well bring a sledge hammer.

The pick-up truck's spare tire was the most fun. It was under the bed of the truck. You had to get the little directions out of the jack box. After you read them, it was much easier to get the tire down. There is a little screwdriver end on the lug wrench. You stick the screwdriver into a hole on the tailgate and unscrew it, it drops the tire down on a wire so you can pull it out. That was the most fun I have had all month.

Okay, so back to the tire changing story. That was one tire and two tire, on to flat tire.

No sooner than we fixed the car, I noticed that the van (which has been parked in our driveway for about four months) is listing to one side. It's front driver side tire is flat-to-the-rim-flat. What the hell is going on? So, I pulled out the cigarette lighter operated tire pump that we borrowed from Jim and pumped it up. It was fine. For about a week. Still flat, van still lists, we don't drive it so it's not really a priority. Eventually we will have to fix it if we want to sell the van.

I tell Jon, after so much exposure to flat tires, that his passenger side tire looked like it needed a little air.

A week goes by.

I noticed that Jon's passenger side tire looked like it needed a little air.

One more week goes by.

It was 11PM I needed something from Jon's truck. I went out to get it and his front passenger side tire was flat, on the rim flat. I went into the house and asked him if he had put air in the tire, he said that he forgot.

SIGH.

I go out and hook up the tire to the air pump and notice that I can see the steel belting sticking out. Not usually a good sign, but, it inflates and stays full. The morning arrives and the tire is flat. Okay, now Lisa needs to get up and drive Jon to work. Then she has to go to work. Later in the evening, someone needs to pick Jon up at work. This is how the week went, because as you know, we had just paid the bills and couldn't afford the tire until the next week's paycheck.

Finally it's Friday, tomorrow after I get off of work, I am going to go and get the tire for the truck. I am heading out to pick Jon up at work. I am running late, I went grocery shopping and have all of the groceries in the car, except the freezer stuff which I had dropped off. I am halfway there and the car started making this really weird grinding sound and here is where "blew tire" comes in. Front DRIVER'S side this time.

Crap crap crappity crap crap crap.

Okay, I am in my car. It is 7:20ish at night. I am on a busy highway. I am halfway in-between home and Jon's work. I am also halfway in-between two exits, each 3/4 mile away. I have no cell phone. What is the protocol? What are you SUPPOSED to do? Stay with the car? Find a phone? Will I get towed if I am not here to explain that I will get the tire fixed, but I can't afford a tow and I can't get a new tire until tomorrow? And I don't even know if I can afford the second tire. What am I going to do? Someone is sure to stop and see if I need help.

Five minutes go by.
Ten minutes go by.
Fifteen minutes go by.
Twenty minutes go by.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, Jon has called home around 7:45PM to find out where someone is to pick him up. Lisa told him that I had left quite awhile ago and should be there any minute.

The sun is starting to set. Soon it will be dark. Nobody has stopped to see if they can help me. I start the car and pull over onto the shoulder so that I am more than halfway onto the grass. About four to five feet away from traffic. I get out and go and sit on the car, thinking I can try to hail someone.

Nobody stopped, ever. That makes me sad. It also makes me aware that if I see others stranded on the side of the road that I need to stop and offer assistance. Whatever happened to courtesy? That must be another blog...

Finally, I took out my lipstick and wrote, "Call 911 please!" on the back window and on the side windows I wrote "Call Police"

Well, nobody stopped to help me and it took the police 1/2 hour to get there.

Two police cars, lights blazing, sirens blaring, tasers drawn, on the loud-speaker, "Driver are you okay?!" I said, "YES!" They turn off the sirens, lights, put away tasers, and the lead officer walks over to me and asks me if I had written "Call 911" on my car. Yes? (I'm thinking, do you see other people here? Who the heck else would it have been?)

I said, "Was that the wrong thing to do? I have been out here for over 1/2 hour, I have no cell phone and I didn't know if I could find a pay phone anywhere nearby because I am not familiar with the area." He said, "I understand what you were trying to do, but we got three phone calls to 911 that you were a kidnap victim and had written this message on your window."

WHAT? You have to be kidding? Doesn't that kind of stuff only happen on "Cops" on Fox? I am close to tears because nobody stopped to help me, I don't have any money on me to call anyone, I am really late to pick up Jon, and the cop is giving me a hard time for writing a message on my car to try and get help.

He is generous and gives me 16 hours to get my car moved or it will be towed.

He will give me a ride to the police station and I can have someone pick me up there. He calls Lisa on his cell phone. Needless to say, I'm sorry it was her on the other end of the phone hearing, "Lisa? This is Deputy so and so with the Walworth County sheriff's Department. I am with your friend Kim." He doesn't say right away that I am okay. I can hear Lisa on the phone, trying not to panic, saying, "Okay..."

After he called Lisa, he gave me a ticket for having an expired driver's license. I have five days to get a new one or I get a warrant for my arrest. Then he told me to have a great night.

After all of this, Lisa came to the police station to get me, we stopped at the car and got the groceries out of it. Then we went to get Jon who has now been at work an extra 2 1/2 hours past when he should have been home. Jon and I have to be at work on Saturday at 7AM. After I get off at 10AM, I have to go to the car and get the old tire off. I have to put the blown donut on it because you can't leave it up on a jack, as it's a safety hazard. Then I have to drive to Walmart and have them put the tire on the rim and then go back, jack the car back up, take the donut off, and get the new tire on it. Then I have to go home and get Lisa or someone to drive with me back to the car and drive it to Jon. Then we have to go home. All this time hoping that I can do this in 1 1/2 hours because it's going to be towed at 12 Noon and with my luck the truck will be waiting at 11:59AM.

So, I thought it would be a good idea to stop at the sheriff's department and ask if I could have an extension. I didn't want the car to be towed while I was waiting three hours at Walmart for my new tire.

The deputy on duty was the nicest man ever! He called over to make sure that it wouldn't be towed. Then I asked him what the protocol should be if that ever happens again. Should I walk and find a phone? Should I stay with the car? He is preparing to answer me and I glance over and see a sign that says, "Stay with your vehicle! You are too important to your loved ones to walk down the highway and risk your life!" I just about died laughing. They even have emergency signs that have the symbol of a phone and POLICE. They are red and they hang off of your window, you roll it down a little and clip it on, then roll it up. It's printed on both sided and is about 18 inches long. He gave me two and told me if I needed more to come and get them.

Then I went to Walmart feeling confident that my car would still be there.

I changed my tire all by myself. I was really proud.

When I got home, I took a nap, got up, made dinner, then went out to change Jon's truck tire. We had totally forgotten all week that he had a spare tire under the bed. We get the tire down and on the truck and it's flat, rim-on-the-ground-flat! We hook it up to the battery operated pump and the psi is going up, and all of a sudden it goes down. Then we hear HISSSSSSSSS.

So, back to Walmart, where the cost of the replacement wasn't as bad as we thought.

I had Megan help me change it when I got back. She's seven. Figured you are never too young to learn.

We have nine more tires that can be changed, that's one for each of us!

Wealth

Are you wealthy only in a monetary sense or is wealth more?

Is wealth the number of dollars in your bank account or is wealth the number of people you call friends?

Is wealth the amount you paid for your home, car, or possessions or is wealth the number of hugs and kisses you get at the end of a busy day?

Is wealth the true test of integrity or is wealth when your children stay together to fight the bully who is picking on one of theirs, sending the youngest and fastest home to get help so that they are stronger in numbers?

Is wealth a sign of honesty or is wealth when your oldest comes to you and asks forgiveness because he broke your favorite dish?

Is wealth a declaration of dedication or is wealth the satisfaction at the end of a 12 hour day when you are tired because you worked hard but you love what you do and that you provided for yourself and your family?

Is wealth how many pairs of shoes you can buy or is wealth the quantity of kid art on your walls that would look just as good gracing the walls of any art museum?

Is wealth based on how exclusive your vacations are or is wealth the night you camp out in the backyard under the stars just because the kids want you to?

Is wealth how many times you eat at a restaurant or is wealth how many times you hear, "This is SO good! You should open a restaurant and serve this!"?

Is wealth how fancy your clothes are or is wealth the t-shirt you and your child made together with paint and footprints?

Is wealth the fancy library of books that is so large it collects dust or is wealth the book that has been read so many times that the binding is taped on and some of the pages are worn and you can read it by heart, and still do, because someone said, "PUHLEEZ?"?

Is wealth fancy toys with fancy price tags or is wealth the little car or the piggie bank or the swirlie hanging in your tree that grandpa made for you?

Is wealth a private lodge in the woods or is wealth the old canvas tent that holds all of the mornings, afternoons, and evenings of meals shared, games played, and stories told?

Is wealth just monetary or is wealth more?

Does trauma just "go away"?

Why would anyone think that trauma just goes away?
That it isn't there anymore?
Because the trauma is twenty-five years old?
Because the event wasn't traumatic to that person or persons?

Trauma stays with you.

It hides and when you think you are okay, it jumps out and paralyzes you. It never goes away. You can work to move on, to deal...it's always there. It's like a leech, you don't feel it sticking it's painful sucker into you because it lulls you into a false sense of security, until you look down and see a fat humongous blood-sucker stuck to you.

When you smell a certain smell it takes you back to that moment. It's shameful. It's painful. It's demeaning. When you hear a certain sound it takes you there. Faster than you can believe. You thought you had gotten past this? Well think again. In the night when things are quiet and all you hear are your own thoughts bleeding through your mind...those are the worst times. Would it be different if it happened today? Could something have changed it to make it better?

Did people offer comfort when the trauma was discovered? Did they say that it was all going to be okay? Did they ever say that it WASN'T YOUR FAULT? Did they rock you and hold you and stroke your hair and tell you that nobody deserves trauma like that? Did they slay the monsters in the closet and under the bed for you? Did they stand up for you and cry out for you and savage the world with their cries of outrage?

Did they call you a liar? Did they tell you that it couldn't possibly have been as bad as you think? Maybe they just refused to acknowledge that you had spoken the words out loud at all? Did they tell you some trite platitude that when you hear it today it evokes rage and anger and frustration and disbelief and it's own brand of trauma?

No amount of therapy can help because it lies in wait. It ebbs and flows. It is a living, breathing, feeding thing that you can't get rid of no matter how hard you try.

What happens to you?
What does it do? Does it break you? Does it make you weak? Does it make you bleed?

Not if you don't let it.

It makes you strong. It makes you resilient. It makes you stone. It makes you loud, obnoxious, blunt. Honest.

It makes you a survivor.

No, in answer to the question, trauma never goes away.
Life happens anyway and you deal and move through it in the best way you know how. Hopefully with grace and dignity and poise. More often with grit and determination.

Maya Angelou says, "When you know better, you do better."

That's all I know how to do.
I won't pretend anymore. I won't lie to myself or others. Nobody can make me do that anymore. I am not nine. I am an adult with responsibilities and a life that needs living.

I was traumatized. I will always be traumatized. Some days are good, some aren't.
I survived.
I am still healing, twenty-five years later.
It still hurts.
It still shames.

The trauma is still there and will be until the day I die.
BUT
I breathe and live and love and move forward, because I know better, so I do better.

You made the pants too long...

Sam.

Trousers drag on, slowly drag on through the street
Yes, I’m walking, but I’m walking without feet
I’m not finding fault at all
With what’s too big and what’s too small
But Sam, Sam, you promised me both ends would meet
You made the coat and vest fit the best
You made the lining nice and strong
But sam, you made the pants too long
You made the tip lapel look so swell
Who am I to say that you’re wrong?
But sam, you made the pants too long
They got the belt, and they got suspenders
So what can they lose?
But what good are belts, what good suspenders
When the pants are hanging over the shoes?
You feel the winter breeze up and down the knees
The belt is where the tie belongs
’cause Sam, Sam, Sam
You made the pants too long
You know what I mean, Sam?
Song by Barbra Streisand

How can you miss someone so much that was in your life for such a short time?
Swiss cheese and onions on long macaroni.
"and all the pretty girls!"
that funny little lisp until you were almost 13...
Remember when the bird got stuck in the string and the string got stuck in the air conditioner?
I can still hear you saying that.
"burd in da sting in da airconssssioner"
He always asked me if I was wearing Vanilla Fields because that was the perfume his "then" girlfriend wore, and he asked me everytime afterward because it is what I wore.
That crooked grin when he was lying or telling the truth or trying to get into or out of trouble.
There are too many memories and not enough.

I miss you, Sam.
I hope you are at peace.
I hope it's summerland.

Love,
Kimmy

Caetie

She's tough. She's got her own style. If you disrespect her, she will call you on it and make sure you know how it makes her feel.

She's girlie. She likes ribbons and lacy things and pretty pink and blue and purple things. She likes making "Gecko Lickies"...those pony bead lizards? They are cute.

Then I turn around and she is in Mike or J or her father's face about SOMETHING, anything. Stands her ground.

She knows how she wants to be treated and damned if you don't want to treat her that way.
It's taken me 34 years to figure out how I want and need to be treated and I am still not as eloquent as her.

She's a pixie in combat boots.

She's a tweener--BIG TIME! She loves "hanging out". Loves music, making it and listening to it.

It amazes me how beautiful and strong and smart she is. She came from me. I didn't know I had such perfection inside me.

She makes me laugh. She makes me cry. She freaks me out. She laughs at me. She's silly and happy and emotional and hormonal and girlie and rock hard tomboy. She likes to play and make and create and dream.

She's going to be a horror movie writer/director. She's going to make me a star in them. I get to fall in a hole. I am saving space on my "mantle" for her awards.

She's loud and beautiful. She's obnoxious and knows it. She's outspoken and not afraid to back it up.

She's eleven. I can't wait to see what twelve brings.

Insurance Companies

Insurance companies are so weird.

I have some pain issues that make it difficult for me to fall asleep. I was sleeping maybe two hours a night and taking care of six children and a house during the day.

It sucks when someone tells you that you had a conversation with them and you seriously cannot remember a word of it and it was TWO days ago!

My doctor gave me some Vicodin. I am sure you are all aware of the issues with prescribing pain medications. There are so many people abusing the system, that when an actual case comes up it's hard to tell the difference.

Well, I can't take Vicodin. It has tylenol in it and I am allergic. Okay, percodan is the only drug of this order that doesn't contain tylenol. I get a prescription. It helps a little. Still can't sleep.

Okay, let's try a prescription for Ambien. It is a sleeping pill and it will help you fall and stay asleep.

WOW DOES THAT STUFF WORK! Eight hours straight, no waking and holy cow I don't feel drugged the next day.

Well, the insurance company will only "allow" you to have 10 pills in 30 days. They say it's because Ambien is "highly" addictive.

Huh?

You just gave me a precription for PERCODAN! OXYCODONE! Hello, read any papers lately? Epidemic that is crashing throughout small towns, big towns, suburbs, male, female, young, old, all walks of life are abusing this drug. HIGHLY addictive and easily attained. People aren't taking one extra tablet of this they are taking 40-50 pills a day!

So, I can have as many highly addictive narcotics as I want, but I have to choose which ten days I get to sleep.

How messed up is that?

Army

The army came into my life when I was 25.

That was the year my son turned five and told me that he was going to be a soldier.
That hasn't changed and he's thirteen now.

Then it meant dreams, hopes, future plans.
Now it means reality, fears, future plans.

This is only four years and three months away from happening. Will we be out of the Middle East by then? Will he be in danger? Will I lose my son to war or terrorists or something even now unimaginable?

How proud will I be when he finishes Basic Training? How proud will I be to tell people that my son is in the Army? How proud will I be seeing him in dress uniform? More so than now? Is it possible to be more proud of someone?

How will it change him? How will it make him more than he is now? How will it change me?

I worry. Yet, if he told me he was going to college and becoming a veteranian or a firefighter or a police officer or a teacher or a doctor, I think I would worry just the same.

I never thought the day would come when I would actually have to contemplate him leaving. Four years and three months is so far away, yet it's tomorrow.

Well. All I can do is prepare him for the mother of all mothers, if he thinks that I'm tough...
Maybe I should send him to the "devil twins" boot camp, maybe that will prepare him.

I hope that these concerns and issues resolve themselves in the next 51 months and that I can be supportive and strong.

I hope that the Army knows what they are getting.

I hope that it's everything he wants and more.

I hope...

I like...

• watching the moonlight dance on water
• drippy vanilla ice cream cones
• the smell of the earth when there is rain
• looking at the stars
• holding babies
• listening to "fish" stories from men of all ages
• watching people's faces light up when they talk about doing something they love and have passion for
• watching people doing what they love
• dogs
• eating grandma's macaroni salad
• old "family" stories that you have heard a thousand times that start with "remember when..."
• birthday parties
• memories that are triggered by smells
• Santa stories
• dads
• eating Uncle Tom's potato salad
• eating "dad's" baked beans that mom has been making for 25 years
• reading stories out loud and hoping that your "audience" gets it
• being funny
• being loud
• being free
• being tied-down
• being
• sleeping
• cold showers on hot summer days
• warm showers on cold winter nights
• floating in a pool
• watching other people create beauty with art, words, actions...
• weddings
• grandpa's
• cool crisp linen sheets
• satin pillowcases
• foot rubs!
• typing
• kid art
• pink flamingoes
• doggie purses
• back scratching
• moms
• slurpies from George's
• Bemo's hotdogs and fries
• plays
• playgrounds
• playing
• appreciating someone playing an instrument
• outdoor concerts
• picnics
• walking tours
• bingo
• summer
• grandmas
• little sisters
• freckles
• dancing
• walking when it first starts to snow
• snow angels
• little brothers
• teenagers
• boy humor
• how pre-teen girls talk really really fast and they have to tell you everthing that happened in about five seconds and ohmygodcanyoubelievewhathappenedtoheryesterday?
• squirt guns
• happiness
• life

June 20th

Why is it that the state will allow you to buy food on them and yet won't help you see a doctor?

Why is it that if two families are living together that aren't "kin" can't be considered a separate family?

Why is it that when you are in a hurry, no matter what road you travel, there is construction or weird road conditions that haven't happened in 30 years, or an accident--nobody's hurt, just gawkers?

Why is it when you run into a grocery store, you always end up with three more items than the quick lane "allows"? Do you put the three things back so you can use the quick lane, telling yourself, "I don't need these three things..."? Did you save the time only to get home and realize that you are REALLY out of toilet paper and you DON'T have another roll in the cabinet like you thought? Then you run back to the store just for the TP and get to the "quicky" line and there's ten people there, each putting three items back onto the shelf next to the aisle...

Why does the earth become a gigantic magnifier in the summer? Check out the moon tonight at moonrise, it looks HUGE!

What is the actual mathmatical theory that says, no matter how well the kids have been getting along, if you put them in the car going somewhere for more than 15 minutes, they will incite and irritate each other exponentionally greater the smaller the vehicle is? Next time I am just going to hand them sticks, at least I can physically see who is poking who, then.

Why is it when you WANT rain, it pretends it's gonna rain for three weeks but never actually does?

What exactly do they do in school that keeps them occupied but not bored, so that the first full day of summer all you hear is, "I'm bored, there's NOTHING to do...?" But the entire school year all you hear is, "I wish it was summer..."?

Happy thinking.
More later!

The Devil Twins

Pull up a comfy chair, you'll be here for a little while.

Let me tell you a little story about two little boys and how they got the nickname "The Devil Twins"

James and Shawn are the best of friends. They met when they were four and we all started living together. James was born on October 8th at 12:04AM. Shawn was born on December 8th at 11:59PM. Well, they were born two months apart on the same day to two different mothers so they must be "twins".

One day I was startled awake by my daughter, Caetie. She was hollering something about something, the only phrase that broke through my sleep-confused mind was, "There's water all over the hallway!"

I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway. She was correct in her assessment. There was, in fact, water ALL over the hallway. There was about an inch of water draining through the hall. I got every towel I could find and waded my way to the source. The toilet was overflowing. Apparently it had been overflowing for quite awhile. There was a pull-up in the toilet. Let me rephrase that, a DIRTY pull-up in the toilet. What a great way to start a day. I pulled it out, disposed of it, plunged the toilet, washed up and waded my way into the kitchen.

Upon arrival in the kitchen, I was greeted by our largest mixing bowl. I believe it holds sixteen cups, it was filled with an entire gallon of milk. There were a few cute Cheerios still bobbing on top and three spoons sunk on the bottom. The empty gallon jug and empty cereal box standing guard next to the bowl.

Okay. Where are the boys?

I went into the dining room from the kitchen. There I found another cereal box casuality. This one was spilled across the table and trailed onto the bench and floor.

Where are the boys?

I went into their bedroom which was right next to the dining room. I cannot tell you how bad it smelled in their room. They had taken crayons and drawn stick figures on their wall. Giant stick figures. Peeing. Apparently, the image was enough to entice them to actually pee into a container from the top bunk bed.

I am contemplating death now. Mine. Who is going to clean this up? Unfortunately, that is part of the job description.

But, where are the BOYS?

I wandered aimlessly into the front room, the fumes made me lightheaded.

The four parents that lived in this house together had seven children under 9. We had a lot of toys and little stuff. Our solution was to combine those playthings into giant Rubbermaid containers. The eighteen gallon containers. There was one for Legos, one for Lincoln Logs, one for stuffed animals, one for kid meal toys, one for crayons, etc. We had about ten, maybe a few more of them in the front room. Every single bin, down to every single toy crumb was in the middle of the floor of the living room.

Now I was contemplating death and it wasn't mine, but where were the boys and come to think of it, where was Megan the 2 1/2 year old?

I walked out the front door.

Our garage opened in the front of our house. The garage door was open a little. I could tell that they had been in there. There were tools that children shouldn't have gotten into out on the lawn. Still no small children.

I walked around the back of the house. We had a little patio out back, in the center was a bush and the patio surrounded it. The hose was on and it was stuck into the bush. There was a puddle so deep that it has started to overflow the cement onto the patio. I turned the water off, still no small children. I heard giggling.

I walked around the final side of the house, which was the gangway between our house and our neighbors. It is there that I found signs of life. I found three pairs of pants. I found three shirts. I found three pairs of underwear. I found socks. I found shoes. I heard more giggling. It sounded like it was coming from out front.

As I came out from between the houses, I see naked children running past me. The three of them are running up and down the block, naked as jay-birds! They are giggling and laughing and having a grand time.

I snagged Megan up as she ran past me again and demanded that the boys get into the house RIGHT THIS INSTANT! They didn't dare argue with me when I used that voice.

Remember the old military ad that said, "We do more before 9AM than you do all day?" They have NOTHING on those boys.

When I walked back into the house it said 6:36AM. I felt like I had done more than the military that day and I still had to clean up the mess!

J and Shawn are still the best of friends. This October/December the "twins" will be celebrating their first "double-digit" birthday and Megan will be eight in January. We all still live together, though not in the same house.

There are still days like this, but they are getting fewer and farther between. I know that I moan and complain about them and I sometimes wish they were quieter or less messy or better behaved. I also know that my life would be empty without memories of the "Devil Twins" and all of their brothers and sisters and as much as I complain, I love them to bits.

The thing I keep thinking of is that there will be a day when nobody needs to wake me up to take care of a mess.

Two things will happen that day.
I will mourn what is gone.
Then I will take a nap, because I will be OLD and I will need one.

She looks just like you.

When I was younger, people would tell my mom all of the time, "She looks just like you!"

I do look a lot like my mom.

Maybe what people were saying was that outwardly I had some of the same features as my mom. We had the same color hair, the same face, the same freckles--which I love, thanks mom!

Maybe what they were saying was that we carried ourselves the same way, we had the same walk, we had the same speech patterns, same sassy mouth--which I love, thanks mom!

Maybe what they were saying was that on the surface, we seemed to be very similar.

Now, when I think of it, I think that maybe I'd like be like her inside, too.

She's honest, even though sometimes it hurts and sometimes she puts off saying it.

She's compassionate, that's never changed, it's just that my daughter filter has been lifted a little at the corners so I can peek out and see her as a person and not as my mom.

She's spiritual, I like that she has always strived to understand what it was she was placing her faith in and made sure that it made sense in her life.

She's loyal, she's there, through thick and thin, no matter what.

She's driven, this is a new one for me. She's been going to school for the past couple of years and working full time. It's interesting to see how she is evolving as a student, a person, a woman, a friend, mom, sister, wife.

She appreciates humor in all of it's forms, she is humorous herself, AND she laughs at my jokes.

She's accountable, that sounds so stern, yet it's a good quality. She's not afraid to take responsibility for her own actions and she expects you to do the same.

She's artistic. We take different forms on this one, she prefers playing piano or guitar and singing for others and I like to bake or cook for others while singing. She's pretty darn good, must be where I get it from.

She's genuine. She's the real deal, what you see is what you get.

She is gracious, warmth and kindness abound.

She is always polite.

She is intelligent. Anyone who can figure out how to raise one kid, much less two, three, four or more and do it well and still maintain a household and then start a career 25 years later, well that person must be smart, a clone, or crazy. Don't worry, two out of three ain't bad.

I always got jealous when other people spent time with her. It seemed that she spent more time with others. I just realized it's because she did such a good job.

Not that I don't love her and want to spend time with her, she just did such a good job passing on those traits to me, that I am an independent, self-sufficient, intelligent, funny, beautiful daughter, sister, grand-daughter, aunt, niece, wife, mother, friend, woman, girl.

I realized that I don't need to be jealous. I should be proud to share her with other people. Honored that she gave me those things first--including the recipe for Pizza Fish.

You know, now that I think about it, I was her guinea pig! Being first-born and all! Maybe I shouldn't be all that honored...HEY! Well, it all worked out in the end...

So now when people say, "Wow, she looks just like you!"

I can smile and say, "Of course I do."

Now, let me introduce you to my daughter.

Great-Grandma Mom

I had the best great-grandma in the entire world.

She would make Tang for us. We called it "Bumble Bee Tuna" and she played along. We still can't remember why we started doing that, but it didn't matter. I don't buy any other brand of tuna because of that memory. She told us stories, she sang to us in German, she brushed our hair.

She was legally blind, yet she was the hardest working woman I had ever met. She volunteered until she was in her 90's. She was stubborn. She made the best damn homemade white bread I have ever eaten to this day.

She smelled like lilacs and I think of her every time I smell them.

I was taller than her by the time I was eight. She played a mean hand of solitaire and loved listening to her "program" As the World Turns.

I disappointed her and hurt her feelings more than I knew and yet her arms were always open for hugs and kisses. Once you saw the hurt in her eyes you couldn't help but cry out, "I am so sorry!" and then it was done.

She would let us spend the night with her. She had this old radio on her bedstand and it only got in AM stations. My sister and I would spend hours searching for a station that played music "late" at night. Big Band is still a favorite because of that Ragg Mopp and Roses and Lollipops and Wonderful World. We heard "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" for the first time on that old radio. The radio is still there.

She had a large mirrored dresser with a mirror laying down on it. She had little figurines sitting upon it. My sister and I would "steal" the figures and wrap them in kleenex and "regift" them to her. She was surprised every time.

She bought us hairdresser practice heads. The heads with real hair so you can practice cutting and styling. We spent HOURS putting those heads in rag curls, braids, barrettes, if you could do it to hair, we did it to those dolls.

Dolls. She had the BEST dolls ever. All of my mom's old dolls. She kept them in a trunk in the attic. We would pull them out and dress them. She MADE the clothes we were putting on the dolls.

She would get dolled up to meet her friends for lunch or dinner. She was always put together. She had the best jewelry to play with and she let us, without blinking an eye, what was hers was ours. She had a gold tea set. We got to have a "tea" party with it one day.

We spent hours and hours with her. We watched so many Miss America pagents up there, I am surprised there isn't a stray crown laying around. We played "office" in the attic room where there was a little desk and an old crib and the doll trunk.

We spent time with her imagining what we would be when we grew up and asked her to tell us stories of when she was little.

She was loyal, hardworking, faithful, beautiful, strong, funny, kind, generous, patient, warm, loving. She was a lady. She was a dame. She was grace personified.

She died when I was eleven. That was twenty-three years ago. I don't know why I needed to write about her this morning.

Maybe because I never had the chance to tell her how I really felt about her. I wasn't old enough to appreciate her the way I do now.

Maybe because I was thinking of my own daughter. Her legacy, her great-great granddaughter, spitfire and smart aleck, somehow I know that they would have been fast friends.

Maybe because I should appreciate where my gram, my mom, and my aunt get it from and I should share how much I love them and how much they remind me of her.

Maybe because I miss her and I wish she were here to hear all of my crazy stories and if I share them she's closer.

Maybe just because my lilacs are blooming.

Walmart...the final frontier

Walmart is a space/time wormhole.

I can go into that store for three things and come out three hours later with thirty things.

And isn't it nice that they ITEMIZE your receipt for you? You bought 49 pieces of crap that are either going to clean your home, clutter your home, or you can eat--thanks for stopping by, come again soon!

And now that there is Super-Walmart and I can run in for groceries, too. Forgeddaboudit.
I may as well grab a little blue vest and just start hanging out there, it's not like I would collect a check if I WAS working there...

The best part of that store is the clearance aisle.

Now that is the definition of craptastic. Where else can you find a keychain, an air freshener, spark plugs, a lamp, cough medicine, measuring cups, lotion and/or body wash, switch plates, and lawnmower oil--in the same aisle--all at super-reduced-we-need-to-get-rid-of-this-crap-don't-you-need-it prices!

I am telling you, we set our clocks ahead an hour this weekend, I am positive that the hour went to Walmart, just kind of collects over the stores.

Did you know that you can CAMP in a Walmart parking lot??? For up to three days! You can take a VACATION TO WALMART! When you figure that one out, let me know. Then again, what could be more relaxing? Walk into a Walmart on Friday and when you walk out again, it's Sunday and time to go home!

May the smiley be with you!

Teleportation

Let me tell you a story about a conversation with J.
Right away you should know that this is a quick, sad story...

Okay, to give you some background...Megan and the two little boys (J & Shawn) have been going to "Logos" on Wednesday's at our neighbor's church. It's an afterschool program that let's them play games and have dinner together and hang out, while "gently" teaching them the stories of the Bible--kind of like Veggie Tales without the tomato and cucumber.

Anyone who has spent any time with me knows that I don't go to church and I don't believe in the Roman Catholic teachings of religion or spirituality, I have my own belief system. It's both easy and complicated, but you can dance to it.

Seriously, it's easy because I believe that there is a higher power and his name is Bob. He is an older gentleman, very soft-spoken and wise. He's tall and has white hair. He wears old soft jeans and boat shoes (with no socks), soft worn flannel shirts, an old floppy fishing hat with lures in it, and he smells like Old Spice. (Okay, so he's grandpa, but omnipotent.) I'll tell you the "Incarnation of Bob" at another time...suffice it to say, the kids all know I believe in Bob.

You needed to know both of these things...Logos and Bob.

J and I are sitting at the doctor's office waiting and CNN was on the TV. This was on Friday, and the big news story was that the Pope was dying.

J wanted to know who the Pope was. Well, how do you explain the Pope? So, I said he was the "head of the Church". J, being nine, puttered around doing his thing. I wasn't even sure that he had heard me at that point.

CNN was doing some more stuff on the Pope and J says, "Jesus' real name is 'I AM'" and I said, "Really?" J replies, "Yeah, I learned about it from THE BIBLE, DUH!" (as if to say, "heathen")

Okay, so now I am amused and I start asking him questions about Logos and what else he has learned. He tells me some random bible facts and then goes back to being a bored nine year old boy in a waiting room. He asks if the Pope is Jesus' friend. I figured that was pretty close, so I said yes. He says, "Oh, then the Pope is God's friend." I thought, are you really nine today? While trying not to laugh, I said, "yep." Then J says, "So, he's Bob's friend, too, right?" How can I argue? "Yep!"

Then they show some footage of the Pope riding around in his "Popemobile" and J asks, "What is that?" I tell him, "That's the Popemobile, it's a glass car, isn't it cool? Wouldn't you like to drive around in a glass car?" He looks confused for a moment, and then says, "Why does the Pope need that? Can't he teleport?"

WHAT?

"Can't he teleport?" J asks again, seriously.
"No, " I say stunned.
"Oh," says J, "I thought he could teleport. The Budda can, and his best friend the Dahli Lama can too, so I just thought the Pope could. Budda and God are like cousins and their best friend is Bob. Are you sure the Pope can't teleport?"

I feel like the elevator went up too fast and you get that weird stomach/head "which way is up/down" feeling. It took me a minute to really understand that he was being TOTALLY SERIOUS!

It still makes me giggle. "Can't he teleport?" Totally serious. Deadpan.

I thought you would get a kick out of reality being funnier than fiction.

Optical Observations

So, when I went to the eye doctor because my glasses were messed up, I never expected the results I got.

I had gotten those protective "coatings" applied to my glasses the last time I got glasses. This was maybe two, possibly three years ago, maybe longer, who knows. The way I am, if it ain't broke (my eyes), don't fix it, right? I have enough going on that IS broken, without making stuff up!

Well, about two years ago, the coatings just decided that they didn't like my glasses anymore and started to peel off. Wouldn't you know it, it was shortly after my warranty expired. No big news there, that is how warranties work. The manufacturer figures out how long their product will work and then they make their warranty two weeks short of that.

So, the coatings...they just started to peel off of my glasses. Well, no biggie, except that they are "melted" onto the lens. So, imagine a window that had contact paper on it, and you have decided that you don't like the contact paper anymore so you are going to remove it, only it is stuck. So, you start peeling it off from the middle of the window and every so often it just won't peel up anymore, so you move over. This is how it looked out of my glasses, only, I didn't realize for quite awhile, that I COULD remove it!

Using baby oil, I slowly removed a majority of the coating. Well, now the glasses weren't protected anymore, so they got scratched up in those spots where there was no more coating. So, basically by removing the blotchy coating, I helped the scratching process speed along and made my glasses obsolete.

One eye doctor appointment and a couple of hundred dollars later--don't get me started on the cost of glasses...only glasses for distances...the reading glasses $10 at Walgreens...and vision insurance coverage, it's a joke, forgeddaboutit!

So, up side up, I have new glasses. I love them. I can't stop looking at myself in the mirror. Not because I am so attractive, well I am, but that is not why I can't stop looking at myself...I just freaking LOVE my new frames. I feel good in them. They make me happy to put them on. I just love them.
The best part of this is that in doing the exam, I found out why I really couldn't see out of my glasses. My prescription changed. Drastically. My eyesight has gotten BETTER! Apparently since my glasses weren't working anyway, my eyes just gave up and said, "Well, we'd better get cracking on this situation or she's gonna start walking us into walls and stuff."

I asked the eye doctor if my eyes would continue to do this until I was farsighted instead of nearsighted. She laughed. I don't think she knew I was serious. Have you seen the cute reading glasses they make now???

Health

Health.

It's a fickle thing.

I quit smoking on September 24, 2004.

I was smoking almost four packs of cigarettes a day. That is 80--EIGHTY--cigarettes a day. I was sick. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I was sick and I was using the cigarettes to search out a release for the pent up emotions. I figured it out. I knew that when I did, it would be a simple matter to quit. The need for me just wouldn't be there. Now, I am not a hypocrite about smoking. If you want to smoke, here's a lighter. It's not my choice to make. I would never ask someone to put a cigarette out, I would never ask someone to move. If I didn't like it, I would leave, it's that simple.

The other issue with smoking was the bronchitis. Every season, like clockwork, sometimes twice in the winter depending on if I had gotten a flu shot, I would just get the upper respiratory infection from hell, lose my voice, try hack up a lung that had turned to cement in my chest, every muscle in my body would ache from coughing for a week until my doctor would give me my expectorant, decongestant, and narcotic cough syrup. Pleasant mix. Lots of drugs. I didn't even need to beg anymore, he had "smoker" written in my chart, so he just did what worked and helped me cover the symptoms of death.

So, I went on the patch. I used it religiously for 10 days. Then I just kept forgetting to put one on. I'd crave a cigarette, think...crap, forgot the patch. Then I would go in to get one on, and on the way be bombarded with the fifty things that six children, three cats, and two other adults can bombard me with and oops, I would forget again. So, about 15 days after I stopped smoking. I stopped using the patch.

Okay. Good. Yay me.

I just recently stopped drinking soda as a primary source of liquid. I was drinking almost a 12 pack a day. Probably not really good for the insides. I was thinking, okay I am drinking most of my calories for the day. I am having dental issues (see "my weird/wired thoughts"). I am also having a lot of medical/neurological stuff going on and maybe this all plays into it. Okay, lots of water. I am drinking a ton of it now. Have to pee a lot, but so far, so good. Crave the soda less, want more water.

Okay. Good. Yay me.

So, then I start thinking. Wow. I am not getting as sick as I used to. I can use an over-the-counter medicine and my cold goes away in a couple of days or the medicine helps the slight symptoms to make me comfortable through the cold. But, I have this pain in my hands. It is like numbness--lack of sensation. You know when you burn your tongue and then you can't really taste anything for awhile? That is how it is in my fingers. I can feel my fingers for the most part. My strength isn't affected. The small nuances of touch are gone.

Okay, I've been through physical therapy, occupational therapy, an MRI, rheumotologist (didn't know what that one was! LOL), drug therapy, two PAINFUL EMG's, and a neurologist. The neurologist is insisting that it is carpal tunnel. Isn't everything that involves the hands these days? Carpal tunnel is to hands what ADHD is to ten year old boys. Just plain and simple, this doctor--specialist--just plain didn't listen to me.

Then my tooth starts freaking out on me. So, in the midst of this pain and quitting smoking, I have an excruciating toothache. What else, you ask? Well, let me tell you.

Since I have quit drinking soda, I have to go to the bathroom ALL OF THE TIME! LOL It's annoying when you already have compromised sleep habits.

Okay, on top of quitting smoking, dealing with the stresses of my crazy-mixed-up-life, quitting the caffeine monkey, and working from home....now my skin has just realized that I quit putting toxins into my system and it is rebelling. My skin is dry and scaly. It's painful and cracked and it runs from my fingertips all the way to my waist. Apparently the skin below my waist hasn't caught up to the "upper class" skin. So, I have been drenching myself in baby oil, lotions, gels, anything to keep moisture in my skin. You'd think with all of the water I have been drinking that it would be okay, but NOOOOOO! It's sayin', "Sorry lady. We don't speak that language. You put crap in us for years and now you just expect us to be softer than a baby's bottom, well you got another think comin'!"

So, the final reason for this rant? This epic? This opus?

When I was smoking and drinking caffeinated beverages the only health problem I had was once a season, and I had a panacea for that. Now that I am "healthy" things are falling apart! I can't sleep, my hands don't work, the dr's are stupid, my teeth are rotting in my head, I want to scratch my skin off...

And to top it all off, I still got the flu. Maybe the tar was holding things together.

Pass that stick...

There is one in every generation

I know that my life has been shortened by years, if not decades being Scott's sister, Paulie's cousin, Uncle Tom's niece...there is one in every generation.

Well, I always knew it would happen. I just didn't know where or when, or even to an extent WHO.

James.

Figures. Easiest delivery, messiest childhood. I have had inklings for years...

Okay, sit back. Grab a cup of joe, some iced tea, or a tall glass of water. It's a bumpy ride and we'll be here for awhile...this narrative is of a graphic nature, rest assured that James is fine.

James has chronic bloody noses. The kid can't look in the mirror without giving himself one. Took him to the doctor and found out that he has a blood vessel really close to the inner surface. They can do surgery, sometimes they just get tougher with age. Doctor Kilker's recommendation is to wait it out. If the bloody noses get worse, then we'll do a consult for surgery.

Okay. No biggie. We take care of them calmly and quickly. J knows the drill. Don't put the head too far back because it could clot in your airway. Don't put the head forward because it could cause lack of oxygen to the brain and you'll pass out. Keep your head straight, ice the top of the nose/sinus while you pinch it "just right" and it will stop in under 15 minutes. Don't pinch too hard, because "it hurts!"

So, yesterday was a good day. Jon's day off of work, drove out to pick up his last Steak N Shake check. We are gonna order pizzas for the kids and have a little "family night". Get home. 4PMish. Lisa says, "J, Shawn, and Drew (our neighbor's son) are down at the park sledding." Moments later, Shawn bursts in crying. He ran up from the park because, "J's nose is bleeding." We didn't even blink an eye...I just sighed and being practical and not wanting to drive down there, I handed Jon a blue hand towel and asked him to go and get J for me. Sure, no problem. He starts walking down there and then tells Shawn to jump in his truck.

J gets back up here and I FREAKED OUT! The towel I sent with Jon is TOTALLY COVERED IN BLOOD. Well, after I ran over to him to help with the bleeding...I could see that it was a RED glove on his nose. Oy. J is chanting quietly, "I am dying. I am dying. I am dying." I reassured him that he was not dying.

Okay, so I pull the red glove off of his nose, expecting a bloody nose.

I often look back on a moment during a crisis when I click into my military mode. Where you want to assess the situation, determine the outcome of forty different plans, decide on a mode of attack, and then GO GO GO!

This is that moment.

I pull the red glove off of his nose, expecting a bloody nose. I was not prepared for his nose hanging off of his face. I immediately jumped a little into "panic" mode, that 10-15 seconds where you don't know WHICH direction to go first. My words were calm and matter-of-fact.

"Okay, we are taking a trip to the hospital."

While Lisa got ready to drive me, I took J over to the sink to triage the situation. I cleaned up his hands. He is still chanting, "I am dying" over and over interspersed with, "I am never sledding ever again". I reassured him that he was not, in fact, dying. He was bleeding. I couldn't tell WHERE he was bleeding yet, but he was definitely bleeding. I cleaned up his hands, no cuts. I cleaned up his chin, small scrape. His top lip was swollen over his bottom lip. His bottom lip was swollen so that it was pushing against his top lip. His nose was split from the inside of his left nostril about an inch over his right nostril. Okay, as far as I can tell, he is bleeding from his nose. He has smashed up his lips and chin pretty well, but there is no bleeding from anything other than his nose and that isn't bleeding anywhere near as bad as it does when he has a bloody nose, so that is good.

Okay, hand towel, ice, purse for insurance cards, J, Lisa, me, head screwed on, off we go to the hospital.

I have now assured James that if he were, in fact, "dying" we wouldn't be driving him to the hospital, we would have called an ambulance. So, if he ever hurts himself badly enough to need an ambulance, then he might be "dying" but not now.

All I know at this point is that he fell off the sled.

After an hour long wait to be seen where we were sitting in the waiting room. James has a wet bloody rag covering his bag of ice, SHIELDING his face from the people there, because he looked "gross and disgusting".

They finally see him. After another hour of hurry up and wait. The first doctor passed him off to the second doctor. She wants to run a cat scan. J wanted to know what kind of cat they used.

We get into the room for the cat scan and it looks like a giant donut. I told J that he was getting a donut scan...he's still looking for the cat.

J lays perfectly still. Then he has to do the scan on his belly with his chin resting on the tray. When she is aligning him, they use a red laser light as a guide. Well, it looks like he is on a GIANT conveyor belt at the supermarket and they have just UPC scanned him.

He still has the sticker on his cheek. They put it there to mark the right side of his body. He wants the doctor's to be amazed that he still has it there when he goes to have the stitches out.

Only four stitches for this ordeal. The really crappy part is that the ER doctor was NOT child friendly and she FREAKED J out when she draped his head to put the stitches in. She didn't explain anything to him, I had to. He was dripping and leaking soapy saline and he thought he was bleeding again. That was the worst part for me. She sucked. Other than that, it was a great four hour visit to the emergency room We got home and Jim was there to pick up the kids.

The official word on the "incident" is this...

Shawn, Drew, and James decided to go sledding. There is a perfectly good hill to sled down right next to the school. Nice hill, not too high, stairs next to it to climb back up...

That wasn't good enough for the "incident" as we are unofficially calling it.

Suicide Hill. I am not sure why they call it that. I really don't want to know...better to be able to deny any knowledge later. I think it might have something to do with the fact that it is steep, covered in ice, has one little hill in the middle of it, and at the end it has a "ramp" so that you "fly" off of it and you go one way and your sled goes the other. That would have been cool when I was nine. Now, I am just thinking...what the heck are they thinking! LOL

Apparently, that was not enough of a challenge for J. Just plain not good enough. James needs THE CHALLENGE. He needs to prove his nine year old manhood on "Suicide Hill".

He's going down BACKWARD with NO HANDS.

Halfway down the ice, where the little hill is, the sled flipped up and slapped him smack square in the nose and lips. When he hit the "ramp" at the end, he flew face first into the ice.

The best part of this whole story. Drew and James stayed at the hill and Shawn ran home. Drew told Shawn that if J walked his circulation would make him lose more blood--good thinking! Shawn was winded and crying. Drew packed J's RED glove in the snow and put that on his nose. That is one of the reasons that the bleeding had stopped so quickly. Drew was comforting J and telling him that he was NOT dying. Well, the reason that J was so sure that he was dying? The "three pounds of blood in the snow" Drew only thought it was a pound, but it was a lot.

Today when Mike got home from school, he told J that if he needed a "cover story" for his injury that he could say he got into a fight with Mike and Mike looks worse.

I am sitting here thinking...cover story? He went down SUICIDE HILL BACKWARD WITH NO HANDS and lost THREE POUNDS OF BLOOD, got a CAT SCAN, STITCHES and he needs a COVER STORY???

What the hell kind of bragging rights do kids need these days?

Man, all we had to do was go down the tall metal slide on the playground...in the middle of summer...in shorts...backward.

The good old days.

Love,
Kim

PS--Shawn and Drew got $5 hero bonus for taking such good care of their friend.

James got a $5 hero bonus for taking an absolutely still cat scan on his stomach with his chin flat on the bed...apparently with kids they usually have to run a scan three or four times to get it without movement...

I finally had a good OH-MY-BOB -he- is- really- okay- how -am -I -going -to -do -this- for-the-rest-of-my-life-cry at 2AM.

Oy.

My weird/wired thoughts

Sadly, I am still up at 3AM. This is not my choice, but because of the pain in my hands...the medicines I am on (there are many) make me wired. The insurance companies have decided that they will only cover 10 sleeping pills in 30 days because they are highly "addictive"...so, in effect you have to decide which 10 days you get to get sleep. Nice, huh? That's insurance companies for you.

The thing is, I am on two other "highly addictive" drugs, and they don't seem to care how many of those I take...

Okay, so I am sitting here thinking (I know I should stop it, but it's hard...)

One of my teeth had been bothering me for almost a year. I just got it taken care of recently. Part of the reason I just did this is because I am on state insurance and it was almost impossible to find a dentist that would take me as a patient. The other reason is, because I LOVE the dentist. I am not kidding. When I was a kid and my mom would tell me I was going to the dentist, I was estatic. I loved how it felt after you got out of the dentist's office, your teeth freshly polished...it was heady.

Well, that is the reason I put off going to get my painful tooth checked out. I knew that the dentist was going to HURT me. This person that I loved was going to do something painful and make my teeth hurt, possibly tell me that I needed a root canal or caps or a bridge or something equally as painful. My beautiful teeth. The dentist was going to hurt my feelings by telling me that my 33 year old teeth were damaged and that I needed to fix it...with pain.

Okay, so I finally get to the dentist. He tells me that there is a cavity in my back molar. That it is bad. That it can be saved, with a root canal or I can have it pulled. Well, no pain for me, pull it.

(Crap) Okay, tooth pulled, this is going to hurt...root canal....pulled....root canal....pulled. Okay pull the sucker, I have seen too many root canal's go bad. (New show on Fox...When Root Canals Go Bad...)

Then he asks me if I want him to clean my teeth...is the Pope Catholic? So, I am waiting for him to touch the sore tooth and I am all tensed up...never even comes near it. No scraping, no polishing...nothing! Sigh.

So, now I have to make an appointment with an oral surgeon. The dentist tells me which oral surgeon will take my insurance. I got home and called. Sure, Ms. Hayes we can see you...in a month. Meanwhile...there would be nothing left of my tooth because it is slowly falling out of my mouth...

So, I tell the receptionist that the reason I went to the dentist in the first place was because I was in pain and she said, OH...you are in PAIN? Well then, come and see us on Thursday. (This was Monday...)

Okay. I have no car. So, now I have to call Jon and tell him that I need Lisa to drive him to his management classes and then drive back to get me, then drive me to the dentist in Milwaukee, then come and get him later. ($400 in gas later...)

That won't work because his class and my appointment are only an hour apart in practically the same place and he only has a little Chevy truck and all three of us won't fit in it and it's stick and I can't drive it. Okay, new plan...maybe my dad can take me.

Sure, not a problem. I'll be by to pick you up on Thursday! (Lifesaver!)

Thursday comes around and I am a nervous wreck. I have eaten my way through the house....have slept for maybe an hour and KNOW I am going to be in excruciating pain.

Get there, fill out paperwork. Go in, get numb. Stings, but nothing a mother of three can't handle. Comes back in in 10 minutes and I am not numb enough. I can feel everything. Gives me a couple more shots...okay numb now....tongue, ear, side of face...can't keep saliva in my mouth...

Comes back after 10 minutes, opens my mouth and wiggles. I hear a pop. He says, "I'm done." Less that 20 seconds.

WHAT?!

That was it?? You are charging me for this? I am telling you...I had no pain. I waited to be NUMB longer than it took for him to pull it! I am not in any pain today. Except for not being able to swish, spit, or suck I am the same as I was two days ago...made myself sick about it. I was so tense that every muscle in my body hurt me later, but my jaw? My empty socket where I had let my tooth wither and die? My mouth?

Nothing. Nada. Not even like mild headache pain.

So, the irony of this?
I am sitting here at 3AM PISSED OFF that I am NOT in pain.

Sigh.

Sometimes I wonder that someone hasn't beat me with a stick yet in my life.