Monday, March 23, 2015

I'm not dead yet!

My 49th year isn't off to a great start. There have now been two times in my life where I felt close to death. The first time I spent a week in the hospital recovering from emergency surgery that finally confirmed just how damaged my reproductive organs really were. Before I got to the hospital, I was lying on the bathroom floor in the fetal position after vomiting my guts out from the pain. The husband stood over me, worried, and asking if he should call an ambulance. I stupidly said no and we drove to the hospital. Worst car ride of my life.

The second time I thought I was going to die was Thursday morning (3/19). I woke just after 5am to a tidal wave of dizziness and nausea. I barely made it to the bathroom. I spent the next two hours spewing evilness out of every orifice. I've heard the term "flop sweat" before and chuckled at the depictions of it in movies (water pouring down the face, etc.) until it happened to me. An hour into my misery, I broke out into a sweat the likes of which I'd never experienced before...pouring down my face, blinding me, filling my ears, nose draining, everything dripping off my chin into the waste basket I had clutched to my chest. Why was I holding my trash can? I had to sit on the toilet and there was no where else to be sick. My nightgown was drenched and clinging to me. I had sweat running down my back and legs and I was sliding around on my toilet seat trying desperately to stay upright. Thank goodness I'd opened the bathroom window a crack the night before because the cold winter air blowing in was the only thing keeping me from losing consciousness.

I was burning up and the blackness kept creeping in around the edges of my vision. I was sure that if I passed out, I was dead. The boys would find me slumped on the toilet...I'd die just like Elvis did. What a lasting memory THAT would be. So I fought to stay conscious. I'd lost all the strength in my legs and arms. It was all I could do to hang on to the trash can. I'd have long since called 911, if I could have managed to get to a phone. I'd gather myself now and then to yell HELP, but no one heard me. John and Max were still sleeping downstairs in the guest room (Max gave up his bedroom to his ailing grandmother and was keeping it open for her, but was too scared to sleep all the way downstairs by himself.) Tyler was asleep in his room, with his door closed. My bedroom door was closed. He might as well have been miles away. Grandma was in the hospital again...but even if she'd been home with us, she never would have heard me. She takes her hearing aid out to sleep.

I would bang on the wall now and then too. Praying someone would come. Finally, close to 7:30, the boys came upstairs to get ready for school. Max heard my weak cry for help. He took one look at me and turned almost as white as I must have been. He ran for his Dad and I got "What?! What's wrong?!" I don't think I've ever been happier to see him in my life. I was spent. He watched me heaving into the trash can and waiting for the nausea to subside then asked what I wanted him to do. Poor guy had to help me out of the drenched nightgown, clean me up and half carry me to bed. I wanted to lie down (he brought me a bowl, just in case) and see if I started to feel better. I was stupidly resisting that little voice that was screaming at me to go to the hospital.

It kept running through my head. What is making me so sick? Oh God, I'm going to die. Was it the left-over birthday pie? It was days old. Probably shouldn't have eaten it. Could food poisoning make me THIS sick? So so sick. Never been this sick before. Not even the last stomach virus just a few weeks ago, which was really bad, but...not THIS bad. omg. I almost wish I'd die because that would be better than feeling this way.

Then I fell asleep. When I woke a couple hours later, I was feeling a little better. I spent 2 days in bed and the only thing I ate was a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I drank lots of water trying to re-hydrate myself. Now it's days later and I am still recovering. I get dizzy easily. Everything I eat makes my stomach hurt and my digestion...ugh. But I didn't die.

I'm still here. And a little surprised that I am.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Where is the love?

I got a phone call from my parents on my birthday. They seemed fine and I thought all was right with the world again. The next day I got a card from them. That is their typical delivery method for birthday gifts, so I opened it with some vague hope of a check or gift card. (Theirs was the only card I got via actual snail mail.) It was empty. If you refer to my previous post, this was a message from my mother. You don't gift us in a way we expect? No gift for YOU!

Yeah, I know it's petty. Yes they are in their 70s or older. No, it wasn't totally unexpected. But it still hurt. A lot. By yesterday morning, I was a wreck. I sat down and wrote a letter to my mom. I haven't sat down to write an actual snail-mail letter in many years. I unburdened myself in a cathartic outpouring of emotion, tears and hurt. Then I set the letter aside. I wanted to just stuff it in an envelope and send it immediately but wisdom prevailed. Best to sit on these things for a day or two and revisit them in a more calm state.

My mom made it a point in a more recent phone call to let me know that I "forgot" to get her a birthday gift. It's all a matter of perspective. See, spending weeks trying to convince Tyler to get in a car for 6 hours to go visit his grandma for her birthday was a major undertaking. The whole family getting into a van and heading north at a cost of $70 per fill up (we needed 2), food on the road, sleeping in strange beds...then a pricey gift certificate to her favorite restaurant that, yes, was partly a Christmas gift too because we can't AFFORD more than was all her gift. But she didn't see it that way. Nope. I forgot. gift for me. Bad daughter. BAD BAD daughter. *sigh*

I'm still on the fence about sending that letter.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

How does she DO that?!

I got a call from my Mother last weekend. Apparently my taste in birthday cards sucks. She called my card to my Dad "offensive." Ouch. And my gift? They "didn't get it." I put a lot of time and thought into that gift too. Tried to find something truly unique and personal. Usually I just send food or books to my Dad. You can bet your sweet bippy that is what I'll be doing going forward. Or maybe it's time to just stop gifting? Can you be too old to appreciate birthdays and gifts?

I dunno. All I know is my mother really hurt my feelings with that phone call. She made me feel small, stupid and thoughtless. How does she DO that?! I am almost 50 years old, but after 20 minutes on the phone with her, I feel about 12.

I sent an apology note to my Dad. Tried to keep the snark to a minimum (anyone who knows me knows how hard THAT was.) I just wanted to convey my thought process in card and gift choices, how mom's call made me feel, the fact that I was still feeling hurt, and that I was sorry if I really did make him feel that badly (or it could all just be a typical Mom exaggeration.) Plus I told him I was proud of him and his years of service to our country.

That's something I never get from them...the sense that they are proud of me. I just get this constant barrage of disapproval and disappointment. I sure hope my boys don't ever feel that way. I'm going to check in with them and see.

I am VERY proud of my boys.

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

I have my ebola boy back!

I was awoken at 3am with the sound of a door slamming and running feet pounding down the hallway. I stumbled groggily to my bathroom (because I always have to go as soon as I wake up) and waited for the knock on my door. I heard commotion in the kitchen. Then the hall bathroom. No knock.

I crawled back into bed knowing something was up but if teen boy wasn't asking for help, I'd let him sort it. An hour later, I was still awake and still hearing noises periodically. I gave up and got out of bed. I knocked on Tyler's door to see if he was ok. He was wide awake and asked for eggs. He sounded congested, but in good spirits.

I headed for the kitchen and found the trashcan overflowing with red-stained paper towels and splatters of red on the kitchen sink, cabinets, and floor (I have an all white kitchen.) When Tyler came looking for his eggs, I asked about the paper towels. "Oh. I had a really bad bloody nose."

Eww. I was afraid it was something gross. Why he ran for the kitchen I can only guess...his first thought was paper towels?

I turn to the fry pan and continue cooking and hear Ty blowing his nose behind me. He shoves the used paper towel in my direction and says "See?! Blood!" then takes a smear of it on his finger, runs the blood down from the corner of his eye and yells "Look Mom! I have ebola!"

Most people would gag. Me? I laughed. Why? I most certainly do have empathy for anyone infected with that dreaded disease. I laughed because my boy has his snarky, irreverent sense of humor back. This means he is finally nearly recovered from his bout with the flu.

Trust me, it's a good thing. I do have to say, however, than if you plan to become a Mom, a strong stomach is a necessity.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Just when you see a light...

...that's when you realize it's not the end of the tunnel, it's just an oncoming TRAIN. So, my mother-in-law had a bad fall at home. She broke her shoulder in, as her doctor so nicely said, the worst most painful spot you can break it. John spent a week at her house helping out, which meant a week without Daddy here at home. Not gonna lie, it was rough. Then my MIL went to stay with her other son for a bit. But he has travel for work and they want to re-do the bathroom... Hubby has to travel for work too, but he got "can't you just reschedule it?" Yeah. No. Do we want the Daddy to vanish for another week or two? No!

Therein lies the dilemma. We have a 3 bedroom house. All the bedrooms are occupied. We kinda have a guest space down in the basement...but as I've mention before it's COLD and there is no bathroom down there. Plus 2 flights of stairs. So, we displace one of the boys and give grandma his room so she has easy access to the hall bathroom (which is too small to negotiate with a walker, remember.) Tyler? No. He won't change beds for a week or two. He hardly leaves his room. Max? He is willing but too scared to sleep downstairs by himself. So Hubby will move down there too and sleep with Max. But that means he won't hear his mother if she needs help at night. I guess I'll be sleeping with my door open and dealing with the cat jumping on my head all night long.

Next dilemma? I have barely managed pain levels. I get through my day with carefully managed spurts of activity followed by 30-60 minute rest periods. Is the house ready for company? I live with 3 boys. Hell no. We haven't been company ready since before Max was born. Here is an example of why I can't keep the house up. I spent 2 days cleaning my bedroom so I could move around without tripping. Available floor space! Within minutes of finishing with my new vacuum, Max was in there playing basketball/kickball. Then the animals started moving in. Then more toys and some books. In less than 3 hours I couldn't see the floor. Now picture this accelerated entropy happening throughout the entire house.

You guess it. We don't have clear floor space anywhere. It's covered with stuff and there are paths through it. Some of these paths are wide enough to accommodate me. Where they aren't I just don't go to that part of the house. There are many parts of the house that I just don't go to anymore. I threw up my hands and said NOPE a long time ago. Once upon a time, I would have said we were a happy but cluttered home - it was just a lack of neatness and organization. Now? Oh it's dirty. If I can't even walk there, then no way a vacuum or mop is going there.

John told me years ago to hire some help...get a cleaning service. Yeah. If I can't even walk into a space, how is a stranger going to CLEAN it? I used to laugh when my mother would make me clean before her cleaning woman arrived at the house. Now I get it. You have to clear off every surface, pick up all loose items from the floor and then get out of the way. I can't clean my kitchen counters or table because it is COVERED with stuff. I've finally managed to put away the bags and bags of groceries that were sitting on the floor because of a lack of pantry space (I'm the only one who throws away expired food items. I found fruit snacks and granola from 2013 today.)

Yes, I am easily overwhelmed. If I can't even see where to start, my eyes glaze over and I stare helplessly until I need to sit down. That happens a lot.

Get the boys to help me, you say? Yeah. Max is given lots of little jobs I know he can handle. But we will no sooner pick up a spot and he is putting something back into it. "Max! We just picked that spot up!" "Oh. Right." The item moves to another more cluttered spot. Poor kid has no idea how to be organized. He's certainly not going to learn it from us. Tyler doesn't clean. Not going to happen. John works full time and helps me with the laundry in his off times. Other major cleaning? Uh, no. At least, not until we realized his MOM was coming to stay. He's been cleaning his ass off with me for days now. I am shooting for sorta clean but crazy cluttered by Friday. Pray for us.

Thursday, January 08, 2015


I've been in a downward spiral for a while now. Healthy habits have fallen by the wayside and my weight has slowly crept upward. It took a while for the family to start noticing the change in me. See, I don't broadcast my feelings much. I crawl deeper into my self, get quiet, retreat from the world slowly, eat poorly, sleep more...and the fog of depression gets thicker and thicker. Am I sad? I think so. But serious depression is more about the inability to feel...anything. I am moving through waist deep sludge, can't focus, everyday tasks seem so so hard, I am tired all the time and I just want to be left alone.

Rather hard when you have young people counting on you. I don't even get to use the bathroom alone most days.

Yes, humor is still my go-to way to try and lighten the oppressive cloud that surrounds me. I cherish every smile. Everything that manages to pull a laugh out of me. Laughter is in very short supply these days. When I heard the news about Robin Williams and most people reacted with "why" and "he was so great" and "he had everything to live for - despite the dire diagnosis on his future health" yadda yadda yadda...I just nodded to myself, cried, and understood.

The desire to just have it all stop. The world, demands, expectations, life, stress, and on and on - it can get to be too much for some. Is it a selfish act? I suppose. But some may argue that family/friends would be better off without the depressed person in their lives. Heck, I've had an angry teenager tell me that fairly often recently.

But I don't have time for this. I have a teen who might have pink eye but won't let me look at his eye a second time because I didn't see what he wanted me to the first time. I have an 8 year old who needs me to pick him up at school in 2 hours. I have to feed these small humans. I may have to do battle with autism yet again and convince the teen to see the eye doctor. I can't even get him to go to school or do any school or home work. He doesn't care if he repeats 7th grade (or so he says.) School is a waste of time. He is already in a special school environment...if they can't get him to do work (and they are trained to work with kids like my special teen) then how am I supposed to get him to perform? He's not a trained monkey. He will not be threatened, bribed, guilted, or begged into doing anything he doesn't want to do. Period.

I digress. I sit. I wallow. I dwell. I rehash. I despair. I sag. I hurt. I cry.

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Our House

The first place John and I lived in was a tiny, one-bedroom house we rented in Denville. We really liked Denville. It was a sleepy little bedroom community with an adorable downtown area, cute shops, convenient train station, respected hospital, good schools...pretty much an ideal place to live. The problem? We couldn't afford to buy a house there. Oh sure, we probably could have purchased the house we were renting at the time, but it was a cottage with no room to grow a family.  One bedroom and one bathroom just wasn't going to work once we started a family. And we did plan to start a family. We talked about 3 or more kids!

So we worked (often 12 hour days) and scrimped and saved and payed down our debts...but time passed and I really wanted to have a baby. Were we ready? John didn't think so. We still didn't have enough saved to buy even a starter home. See, houses in New Jersey within any reasonable commute to NYC are VERY expensive. But then something amazing happened.

John's grandma Sophie had been living on her own down in Florida for a number of years, but her health was starting to fail. Long story short, she moved in with my in-laws and, when it became apparent that this was going to be a permanent situation, she went to work selling her Florida retirement home. Through a series of sad circumstances, eventually it became necessary to find a nursing home for Sophie. The problem? She had a sizable nest-egg in the bank and any decent home in the area would require her to turn over her assets to put toward her care. Sure, she might go on living for many more years, but she wanted to leave something to her family. So she decided to give each of her grand-kids a gift. We were elated when she gave us this money. With what we had saved, it was finally enough to make a decent down-payment on our first house. Or so we thought.

One last thing before I get to the really useful information. At that time, the internet was just starting to build. I was using dial-up and AOL to get online. (Yes, we are ancient.) Did I think to search for tips for first time home buyers? Nope. Not really. I was more focused on finding the lowest interest rate loan possible! We were pretty confident that it was just going to take a lot of looking and patience to find just the right place. So we found a Realtor, gave him a price range based on what the bank said we could afford, and started hunting. And hunting. And hunting. Wow, what an eye-opening experience. What we could "afford" was horrifying. But I'm pretty sure I've written about our house hunting experiences here before. You can't un-see orange shag carpet and avocado appliances. (What the HECK were they thinking in the 70's?!)

1. So yes, first and foremost, know what you want! You could start house-hunting blindly, like we did, until you figure that out, but the neat thing about the internet these days is you can look at houses inside and out ONLINE! You can get a good idea of what is in your price range before you ever leave the house. Amazing!

2. We decided to go with new construction. Are you a do-it-yourselfer? Kudos to you, if you are! You have lots more options, especially if you are a first time home buyer. You can work with the seller to get into the house and paint, change carpet, redo floors, etc. BEFORE you move in your furniture and belongings. Once all your stuff is in the way, it gets a lot harder to do things. We are not Home Depot people. So...

3. New construction is great if you don't have the time or skill to change out light fixtures, rip out carpet, install hardwood, refinish cabinets, etc. You get to pick all these things out before your house is even finished. However, the choices can be really overwhelming. Visit remodeling and home design centers. Look at lots of photos online of kitchens and bathrooms. Do your homework and think about your future needs!

     a) When we were making our choices, the hot and popular kitchen choice was all white cabinets and white appliances with marble counter-tops and low maintenance solarian (vinyl) flooring to match. Bright, clean and spiffy. Don't do it. Almost 15+ years later and the cabinets are stained with years of splatter that we can't get clean. The floors showed every bit of soil from day 1. Hard wood in a kitchen, while it looks nice, is also a really bad choice. As is slate (really hard on the feet and back.) Most kinds of wood + exposure to water just don't mix. We've replaced our dishwasher. Trust me, when a dishwasher goes bad, it goes very very bad. Water, water everywhere. White appliances? Also a bad idea. Again, with the stains. Every bit of splatter and soil is highly visible. I am still bummed that we missed the whole stainless steel fad. If I had it to do over again, my cabinets would be like this:

High gloss, easy to clean, with stainless steel accents and appliances. Not the black counters though. I'd probably go with a dark grey granite. And the floors? That's not wood! It's tile that LOOKS like wood. Greatest invention ever.

     b) Carpet. Carpet is an economical choice, but if you can afford it, get hardwood right from the start. Something sustainable like bamboo flooring would be my choice. What did we pick? Well, in my defense, we did not have any kids at the time. We were young, in an empty house full of possibilities and I went with pretty, airy and light choices. Pale sage green, white berber, pale beige... add 2 boys and multiple cats and you know what you get? Stains! Horrible, awful, disgusting stains. Don't get me wrong, the berber has stood the test of time! I just wish I'd gotten a nice shade of speckled brown or grey. Got pets? Kids? Then hardwood or mid-range colors are best. Dark colors will show lint and hair.
See? Pretty pretty bamboo...wears like iron and ages nicely.
     c) Furniture. Here is where we actually made some good choices. We got a sectional sofa from a respected furniture maker (Ethan Allen) and picked a modern plaid/geometric fabric with stain guard. That sofa has been to hell and back and is a bit frayed, but it does NOT look stained. Entertainment center is solid oak and is also in great shape. The only problem? It's HEAVY and BIG. So, now that I want to get rid of the stained and hideous carpet? We can't move that sucker. I'm sure the berber under it is in perfect condition. Maybe someday the floor guy can just cut away around it...leave a little berber island and put in my bamboo everywhere else? Maybe? Might look interesting. So, go modular. Something you can break down and carry around the house easily. You'll thank me later!

     d) Closets. You'll be tempted to cut corners there. A rod with a shelf above it? Good enough, right? No. There are closet companies out there for a reason! California Closets! Seriously. A well organized closet with lots of storage options is a sanity saver. We could fit SO much more into our nice walk-in closet if only I'd given it a little thought.

Yes! yes yes yes!

So there you have it. Lessons learned. Oh, and if you have the option to get a nice front porch? Do it! You'd be surprised how many times I've wished there was room for a rocking chair or swing out front. And the deck! We got the builder's standard model and it ended up barely serviceable. We should have gotten bigger. With a patio under it. And stairs. It would be nice to have more than one way to enter our kitchen.

4) Finally, we come to my biggest regret. Years ago, when my eldest was still small, we decided to finish the basement into a playroom. We'd had the foresight when we built the house to take the "walk-out" basement upgrade (extra windows and a slider to the back yard) and requested roughed-in plumbing for a future half bath. The builder forgot our plumbing. They poured the foundation and we were stuck. Lesson? Watch your new construction carefully! We caught several other errors before things got permanent, but not that plumbing snafu. *big sigh* Why was this so important? We brought in a respected contractor to finish off an office space, add a guest bedroom, and put in floors, walls, ceiling (tiles, so we have access to plumbing and ducts - VERY important!) and moldings. Painted and did lighting too. Bathroom? Nope. Not without adding one on to the back of the house at great expense. Solid slab down there. No way to put in plumbing now. That office space off the guest bedroom would have made a perfect guest bath too. *big sigh* Other problem? Heating/cooling. It's a big space down there. It really needs its own zone, but we have just one thermostat. In our upstairs hallway. What does that mean? It's fricken freezing down in the playroom and guest room. All. Year. Round. Heat rises so in the winter, it's a meat locker. Summer? The air conditioning works REALLY well down there while the upstairs is still relatively warm. Meat locker again. We had guests stay in our guest room a couple times, but once they figured out the only bathroom was up 2 flights of stairs in the hallway? And they froze their asses off? Yeah. We don't have guests anymore. Plus the boys don't stay downstairs for long to play. It's fricken FREEZING down there. So the beautiful playroom has slowly reverted back into a basement. Full of random junk and toys.

I should have had the contractor put in storage cabinets downstairs too. Shelves. That would have been good. I bought some later but they are pre-fabs. Hardwood pre-fabs. I managed to put together a corner armoire desk unit with the thought that the kids could use it for homework and gaming in the future...but it was back breaking work and no one ever uses it. I have shelves and a tv/entertainment unit still in boxes waiting to be assembled. Years have gone by now. Still in boxes.

So many regrets. Maybe when Tyler gets a wee bit older, I'll put him to work constructing the rest of the furniture for downstairs. I figure one day soon he might be interested in taking that bedroom downstairs. Teenagers, you know. That playroom would make a great hangout spot too. The kids could all wear parkas and gloves while watching the big screen or gaming. Yeah. It could work. ;) I just fear all the peeing out the back door will kill the grass. :p

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Stargate Universe - Part 2

Well, it took all of Season 1 and a good chunk of Season 2 to finally invest me in SG-U, but I got there. By episode 20, I was sobbing at the end. (I love you, Eli!) Did I dare to go looking for Season 3 knowing full well that the show was probably cancelled? I dared. It was cancelled, as I suspected.


Well, similar to Firefly, maybe the fans can talk SyFy into doing a made-for-tv movie with a satisfying ending to the show. For the fans. For me. Do it for ME, SyFy!

Monday, October 06, 2014

Stargate Universe

I've recently binge watched every season of Stargate:SG-1 and Stargate: Atlantis. Love them. So I thought I'd give Stargate Universe one more try.

Universe is one branch of the Stargate series' that I was never quite able to get into when it first aired. Back then, when John Scalzi let us know he was going to be a creative consultant on the series, I was excited! He rocks! Then I saw the first few episodes and, frankly, hated it. I wasn't sure just wasn't floating my boat.

Now that I have watched the first 3 episodes again, I have figured it out. Stargate to me has meant lighthearted fun and a shining example of the best of humanity fighting against impossible odds and nearly always winning. Sure there was tragedy and some low points where certain humans let their peers and team down, but someone else was always there to clean up the mess and make everything ok,

I think Universe was trying to be more like the Battlestar reboot - gritty realism and hard sci-fi. Loads of people like that, don't get me wrong (I loved Battlestar) but in the Stargate universe, watching people be...PEOPLE was very off-putting. If I want to watch people be dicks in a crisis, horde food, backstab and just fall apart, I'll turn on the evening news. I know how people usually are. That's real life. I guess I don't want too much real in my evening entertainment.

The story line has grabbed my attention this time. I'll keep watching and see if it grows on me. It'll be just my luck...I'll start to love it and bam, the series was cancelled. 

Saturday, October 04, 2014

Nervous in the Service

I was lounging in bed earlier, reading a new book when the cat decided to join me. He paced around, up and down my body (ouch, bony little feet) and circled trying to find his "spot". I got exasperated and burst out with, "What's the matter? You nervous in the service?!"  Then chuckled to myself. That is one of my Dad's old expressions. He used to say that to me, occasionally, and to my brother a LOT. It's especially funny because I have seriously fidgety kids and have NEVER (in my memory) said this to them. Curious.

I wondered about the origins of the expression. I do recall Ruby Rhod saying it in The Fifth Element (one of my fav movies) and chuckling over it every time. But my Dad is an old this expression must go WAY back.

I finally found a reference to it through a web search that attributes the phrase to a marching song from WWII, sung by women in the armed forces, with the stanza "If you're nervous in the service, And you don't know what to do / Have a baby, get out of the Navy." I also found a song from the era called To A Wave that may have been the source for that marching nonsense rhyme.

If you're nervous in the service and you don't know what to do,
If you're hurried and you're worried and you're feelin' kind o' blue,
If you're bleary and you're weary and you wish the war was through,
Have a baby on me.

If you're tired of the regimentation,
And you'd like to return to civilization,
I can help you, pretty Wavey,
If you'd like to leave the Navy,
Have a baby on me.

If you're tired of the color that you're wearing every day,
And you'd like to dress in violet or even cruiser grey,
If you'd like to leave the Waves, but you're afraid they'll make you stay,
Have a baby on me.

If you're tired of the work you're allotted,
And you're looking for a discharge...I've got it,
You'll be feeling like a million,
And you'll wind up a civilian,
Have a baby on me.

If you're sick of all the mashers with the braid along the sleeve,
If you gotta act like Garbo just to get a weekend leave,
If you're tired of the Adams who've decided you're their Eve,
Have a baby on me.

Why bother with a two day vacation,
I can get you home for the duration,
You might get a bit distended,
But your troubles would be ended,
Have a baby on me.

Oscar Brand

Yep, comedy gold. Amazingly sexist too, but consider the era. So that was my history lesson for the day.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Parent Politics

I've never been very good at "parent politics". I'm awkward under the best of circumstances so when put into an already awkward situation, I just freeze up. 

Max has a birthday coming up and in past years I always insisted that we invite everyone in his class and Max was happy with that. Last year he had a couple issues with certain kids, but he's so easy going he didn't mind if they came to his party. This year, he put the hammer down. He has a strict "be kind" policy and if you act like a "jerk" to him or any of his other classmates, then no party invite. He was adamant. 

I said, "Isn't leaving certain kids out sorta unkind too?" He said, "Why would I want to reward them for being a joik?" (Yes, he pronounces the word "jerk" like a 1930s gangster. No idea where that accent came from. lol) *sigh* So today I watched Max ambush his friends after school to give them party invites (passing them out in class isn't allowed.) One kid who was at his party last year but wasn't invited this year kind stood by and watched as others got invites but he didn't. I winced at the expression on his face. 

As Max climbed into the van, I had to double check with him...was he SURE he didn't want to invite so-and-so? Nope. No dice. Apparently just that day this kid had grabbed another child's hand and slammed it into the back of Max's head during gym. Not cool. No invite for you. *double sigh*

John is quite friendly with this kid's mom. I know that not being invited to the party will probably get back to her (if she didn't already notice the awkward moment at pickup today...since she was there.) What would YOU do in this situation? I feel like we should say something to her so she knows why her kid is being excluded. But how do you nicely tell someone their kid is being kinda jerky this year to his classmates without sounding like "My kid can't stand your kid anymore. What can ya do?" See? Awkward.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Minivan Conversations

Being an introvert in a house full of fellow introverts (except poor Max, who is extroverted to the...well...max) it is pretty rare that more than 2 of us are together for longer than a minute or two, without distractions, to just talk.

Today it was Tyler and I sitting in the van after school, waiting for Max to exit the building (Ty gets out earlier than Max) and we got into an animated conversation about, what else, video games. But then things started to get super interesting. Tyler quoted Einstein and started applying the Theory of Relativity to the Super Mario universe and certain games therein and talked about how time slows down the closer you approach the speed of light, and how one of the characters in one of the games was aging at a slower rate because she was traveling so fast and only appearing in Mario's world once ever 100 years without aging that much...and so on.

Then he went off on a tangent about how he strongly feels time travel is possible which sparked an animated discussion about faster than light travel and the difficulties that would present to human flesh when it comes to acceleration and g-forces. Then another tangent about the many worlds theory and quantum mechanics featuring a trans-dimensional travelling Mario and Luigi. Then a tangent about the evilness of Megaman and his breaking Asimov's First Rule of Robotics.

Really, our conversation left me a little dizzy and Max (who had joined us at some point) completely lost and only able to offer his opinion that Sonic the Hedgehog is probably not as fast as The Flash, but he did gamely try and throw in his 2 cents now and again. (He is only 7 and needs a bunch more sci-fi book, movie and tv exposure to catch up. LOL)

I love my boys and moments like this are solid gold in my book. I love how Tyler's mind works. I hope we keep finding new ways to engage and challenge him and that he continues to share his brilliance with me in these rare and quiet moments of deep conversation.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

I am Princess Jellyfish

I'm sure I've blogged about this deep affection for Japanese animation (anime). I adored Speed Racer and Star Blazers as a kid and the love never faded. I still love to watch good anime to this day. Lately, I've been looking for something. I had such a strong connection to certain shows when I was younger, but I don't have a crush on Speed Racer anymore.

Over the years various friends have raved about certain movies and series, so I would watch and typically I would agree. They were good. But I was still looking for something. I wasn't sure what.

I found it tonight!

The kids were in bed and I was done binge-watching True Blood, so, what do I watch now? I watched a few more episodes of Heaven's Lost Property. Meh. It's good. Weird (which I like) and somewhat funny. But...not IT. Black Butler...also good. Super weird and twisted. Also not IT. Then I found Princess Jellyfish.

This is IT! Tsukimi is my long lost twin. Awkward, paralyzed in social situations, intimidated by super beautiful people...she is otaku. Just like me. Geeky, nerdy, yadda yadda. Finally, a character who speaks to the me I was at age 16 or so.

She made me realize something critical. Thank goodness the internet, as it exists today, did NOT exist back when I was a teen. I would have found my own tribe of like-minded girls online to hang with and I'd probably never have met a nice guy or gotten married. Not that my life would have been BAD if that were the case, but I am rather fond of my life now.

If you are a shy otaku girl reading this right now, I encourage you to take a risk now and then. Put yourself out there. I know it's scary! But things worked out pretty well for me. And I am still Princess Jellyfish on the inside. :)

Friday, August 15, 2014

Star Wars Trading Cards!

Yes! It's so exciting, I'll say it again! STAR WARS TRADING CARDS!

Why am I yelling about the above twice mentioned cards? When I was 11-14 years old, Stars Wars was new. (Yes, I am that old.) It was new, exciting, and it captured my science fiction loving brain like no other film or television show had before. Why? Luke Skywalker and Han Solo... *sighs dreamily*  Oh I fell deeply in girlhood crush with those dashing fictional heroes. Hard core.

If it had anything Star Wars on it, I wanted it. Unfortunately, my mother didn't see the appeal or understand my all consuming obsession. I wanted a Star Wars lunch box. "That's for boys!" I didn't get one. But I think my brother might have. :( I wanted action figures and the big play sets! "That's for boys!" My brother got some, but I had to spend my babysitting money and buy my own Luke and Leia (keep in mind we didn't know they were brother and sister, yet! Sorry...spoiler alert!) They never got together on the big screen, but they did many many times in my Barbie Dream House. *cue cheezy 70s porn music*

Oh grow up. Most of their clothes were molded plastic and non-removable. ;)

Where was I? Oh cards! Fast forward to present day:  My brother was cleaning out my old bedroom and came across a shoe box stuffed with old hosiery. My mother handed me the box when I was up for a visit, apparently to see if I wanted to keep my old pantyhose from the 80s. *chuckles* I was ready to toss the whole box into the trash! Good thing I looked inside.  Under the hose I found THESE!

Rewind back to 1977 again! One thing I could afford were packs of Topps trading cards. Just like the baseball cards, the Star Wars cards came in these wax paper wrapped packages that included around 8-10 cards, sometimes a sticker and a stick of bubblegum.  My friends would make fun of that gum calling it "card board" and making wild claims that you could cut your tongue with it...but I loved that gum. It would shatter in my mouth on the first bite but would later soften. Good stuff!

But the cards! Oh how I loved those cards. I'd buy them every chance I got. Eventually, I found a friend in the neighborhood who was also collecting them. We would get together and trade our duplicates to each other. We both wanted a complete set of cards and would painstakingly put all our cards in numerical order. That's how I ended up with 2 of the "blue with stars" bordered cards (the original 1st series of cards from the first movie) and one card with a green border featuring Luke Skywalker (*sighs dreamily*). They are the oddballs in my collection but I'm really happy I have them.

My collection stops in 1980 when I abruptly stopped buying. Why? I can only speculate. I was a freshman in high school then. Maybe I thought those cards were just for kids? Maybe I was too busy being a teen with all the associated drama? Maybe I found more important things to spend my hard earned cash on? Who knows. I was a dumb teen. All I know is, there are no more cards in my collection after the 1980 Empire Strikes Back cards. I have a lot of those. Almost two complete sets - red and blue borders. I'm bummed I don't have any from Return of the Jedi. *grumbles* Stupid teenage me.

But what to do with all those nifty cards!? I had hundreds of them in that box. I brought the box home and lovingly put the cards into piles by type, then sorted them into numerical order just like I did when I was 12. They are in such great shape, I can almost smell the scent of bubblegum on them, but I knew they wouldn't stay that way for long in a house with 2 curious and somewhat careless boys.

It also hit me that one of those boys is 12. Yes, that very age I was transported back to while looking at my totally nifty and cool trading cards. Holy cow! I wonder what memories will stand out in his mind about this age one day in the distant future. I need to get that boy some comics or trading cards, stat!

Where was I? Oh yes, what to DO with my cards. I knew they must be preserved, but I didn't know anything about modern day card care. I vaguely recalled flipping through albums of cards at a Star Trek con years maybe a photo album or something?  I popped on to Amazon and BAM, it was overwhelming! So...much...card...stuff!  Snap cases, cases with screw-on tops, slip covers, album pages of all sizes, albums, yadda yadda.  Soon I learned buzz words like "penny sheets" and "top loaders". After hours of research, I decided on penny sheets, 9 card top loaders and a nice generic D-ring collector's album (like a 3 ring binder, only made to keep the sheets flat and from bending, rolling or crimping your cards.)

Tada! Isn't it beautiful?! Now we can safely flip through the collection and read the cards, front and back. I find myself wondering if I should go to another convention, bring my binder, and maybe see if I can get someone interesting to sign it. I love being a nerd.

Wednesday, August 06, 2014


I have vivid memories from when I was a child of my mother saying, "You'll have to forgive her, she is old and set in her ways."  Mom was talking about my grandmothers, invariably, and I had a hard time absorbing that idea. What did it mean? When you got old, you got stuck somehow? You couldn't change your patterns or habits...why? It was baffling.

I used to get excited when new things came out. I always wanted the latest and greatest. Brand loyalty? Meh. This stuff has a NEW scent/color/package! Must have it!

Lately, I find myself getting annoyed when products I've used for a while suddenly change their packaging or smack "new and improved" on the label. I am downright suspicious! What, exactly, is new? The cynic in me says this means they are just using cheaper materials, having the item made overseas somewhere, put half the amount they used to in the box, and charge us a bit more for a bit less.

I remember my grandmother and great aunt would go positively apoplectic when a trusted brand would discontinue an item they liked. Their little world would nearly come to an end if the packaging on their favorite cereal changed one iota. They really were set in their ways to a rather frightening degree. I seem to be following in their footsteps.

I don't care anymore to find something new. I want what I want and no one had better fuss with it! Humph!

Good Lord, I am getting old.

Monday, July 28, 2014

What am I?

Being a mother to two amazing boys through adoption sometimes presents some unique challenges. We are lucky to have an open adoption for my older son with frequent contact with biological family. My younger son, however, is another story. His adoption is considered open because his birth/first mother knows who/where we are and vice versa, but that is where the similarity stops between my two boys. Sadly, we don't have any real ongoing contact with Max's biological family. One day we hope that will change.

Lately, Max has been very curious about his origins and we, frankly, don't have a lot of answers to give him. The genealogical data provided by his bio-mom on the forms she filled out in the hospital is sketchy, at best. Max wants specifics! Like me, Max has a gift for mimicry. He likes to take on various regional accents and pretend he is from that area/country. He is especially good at Scottish and Jamaican accents, with German following closely behind. It's very funny!  We had a joking conversation that he could be Scottish, German and Jamaican in decent. It's not completely beyond the realm of possibility.

No, it's really not that important to know our exact ancestry (we are American, first and foremost.) I say "our" because I was adopted as an infant too and didn't have many details about my background until I met my biological mom when I was in my thirties. Even she didn't have a complete picture because she didn't know my bio-dad's side of the family that well; so I turned to genetic profiling through The results of their DNA test were fascinating! Now, Max really wants the same information. He isn't even 8 years old yet, but he has a powerful need to know about himself.

I remember studying people's faces when I was a child and wondering if I could be related to them. Who knew? I could have walked past a biological relative on the street and had no idea! All my friends looked like their parents and siblings. Sometimes strangers would comment, "Oh! You look just like your Mother!" and sometimes that comment would make me happy, but more often I would be irritated. (No I don't. Not a bit.) Amusingly, I studied my bio-mom's face when she first sent me photos (we found each other via the internet) and I sort of saw a family resemblance from photos of both of us when we were teens, but now? I don't think we look at all alike. I found that sort of disappointing. Ha! Maybe I look more like my bio-dad's side. Who knows.

The point is, Max wants to know. He wants details! We talked about him taking the same DNA test that I did through and he is eager to try it. It's not cheap, so I may make this a Christmas present. We'll see. I'm just as curious as he is to see the results!

Friday, July 25, 2014

Kickstart THIS! ?

While I like to keep my Facebook page on the lighter side, this space is where I come to be real. The reality lately is we are drowning in debt. Much of that debt is medically related. When you have a child with special needs that weren't fully diagnosed until said child was struggling and slowly drowning in anxiety and pressures at school, you find you have a lot of catching up to do.

Instinctively, we adapted to many of our son's quirks and limitations here at home. We never looked at things that way, before his autism diagnosis; that we were adapting. We were managing and learning to be good parents at the same time. He was getting by ok, so we thought. If we had known how much he was struggling, we would have gotten testing and accommodations MUCH sooner. We just didn't SEE it. He was and is our brilliant, handsome and challenging child. That hasn't changed. How we approach certain things, accommodations at home, and adding supports has made a substantial change for the positive in his behavior and ability to cope. Changes at school were long long overdue. Our mistake was in assuming the personnel at his school knew what they were doing. They didn't.

So changes were made/forced and our boy was moved into a new school environment. And he flourished. Getting him there was a major challenge. Since our local school district was too busy assuming Tyler's issues were OUR fault and kept pointing fingers at us, we had to go outside the system for help. We got our own child education advocate, a plethora of testing from a neuro-psychologist, a new psychiatrist (purported to be the best child therapist in the state), tried multiple medications until the right combo was was a months long grueling effort but it was all worth it in the end. Tyler is now where he needs to be. For the moment.

But...ongoing therapy with bills from 2 therapists, medications, hospital visits, adaptive technologies, and catering to a child with multiple environmental sensitivities has taken its toll on us, financially. Insurance doesn't cover much, sadly.

So I found myself thinking. I've been involved in multiple fundraisers over the years for neighborhood kids and children of friends who were gravely ill.  Having a child with a life threatening illness is a horrifying circumstance. I have always gone out of my way to support charities and friends when ever I could. But what about kids with chronic and life-long illness of other sorts. Cancer is something we can work to cure, but what about mental illness or neurological damage like autism? It's not something you can cure. [Sorry Autism Speaks, you are on the WRONG track.]

Plus, there is a certain stigma associated with mental illness. You don't often see fundraisers for that. Why? We are looking at a lifetime of ongoing medical expenses. What makes neurological damage or a chromosomal abnormality so unworthy of charity?  History. We are trying to overcome centuries of mistaken impressions. People with mental illness aren't "crazy", or possessed by demons, or an embarrassment to their family (but that is how they were treated in the past and right up to current day.) It isn't shameful to have problems with your brain! We need to stop acting like it is.

 So I am still thinking. Can I do a fundraiser? If the dude looking for help to make his potato salad can start a Kick-start campaign, would it be wrong to do something for my son? What would people's reaction be? I know a few folks close to the family would really raise some eyebrows over my idea, but they are super judgmental about everything and everyone. No winning there. But in general...what do YOU think of this idea?

I wish I had more readers so I could take a poll. But seriously, how "sick" does a child need to be to deserve an outpouring of well-wishes, sympathy, support and, yes, a fundraiser?

Saturday, July 05, 2014

Mother of a teenager??!

I found myself thinking about Tyler's upcoming birthday in the wee hours this morning. He is going to be 13 in December. A teen. I know several mom friends of mine felt very strongly at the thought of their babies turning 13. For me, it kinda happened already. In my mind, Tyler is already a teen and it happened very abruptly. Almost overnight, in fact.

See, Tyler's 12th year started out really tough. He wasn't even attending school by the time December hit. He'd finally hit a wall and could no longer find a way to cope with his autism and ADD on his own and manage to fake his way through the school day too. But I am not going to talk about that struggle. He is in a new school situation and finished the year with all A's and B's on his report card. He is a superstar!

No. That was hard and contributed to his sudden maturation, of course, of that wasn't my ah ha moment. It was the week we bought new beds for the boys.

Let me rewind a little. OK, a lot. I can't recall if I've spent much time talking about Tyler's sleep issues here in my journal. From the time he was an infant, it's always been something. It began with colic, reflux, and lactose intolerance. Then he couldn't sleep flat on his back. Then came the struggle to keep him in his crib. That boy could climb out of anything! Then came the night terrors and sleep walking. We had a 3 gate system, at one point; a gate in his doorway, another in the hall and a third at the top of the stairs. Late one night we caught him just before he walked right out the front door.

He spent the majority of his first few years sleeping in the bedroom with us. Attachment parenting, yeah yeah. Sure. We liked to call it that. It was trendy. But really, for us, it was necessary. We just never knew what he'd try next. His toddler bed just stayed in our room so we could hear and react faster when he woke up. It helped us get some much needed sleep too. But then the day arrived when he was just too big for his little toddler bed. Now what?

We made a big deal over him moving into the twin bed in his own room. He was very excited. But by bedtime, he couldn't shut himself down. We had an established bedtime routine. Teeth, a couple stories, singing and back rub. He would relax and start to nod off, we would tip toe away and he'd jerk awake in a panic. Oh boy. We were sure we'd done it to ourselves. Oh, he was attached alright. So much so, he couldn't fall asleep unless one of us was there.

We tried everything. Finally, we just took turns sitting in the room with him until he was asleep. Sometimes we managed to get into our own bed and get some sleep. Sometimes. But he almost never slept for the whole night. When he woke and found himself alone, he would come looking for us. Or he would sleepwalk and we'd find him lost somewhere else in the house.

Finally, out of desperation, we would take turns lying down in bed with him and pass out. We were so so tired. When he got too big, there wasn't enough room for me in his little twin bed anymore. John made a nest on the floor for himself and that was it. Since I wasn't physically able to get up from the floor, John spent most nights sleeping in with Tyler. I would find them in the morning, both on the floor all cuddled up.

When Max arrived, it fell mostly to me to care for him at night, and John slept in with Tyler. Now it was Max's turn to share the bedroom with me. He only slept in his crib for naps. At night, he was in with me so I could handle late night feedings, diapers and so on. John needed sleep so he could function at work. We adapted.

We expected the situation was temporary. Eventually Tyler would grow out of his anxieties and sleep on his own at night. Right?

No. 11 years later and now Max was also sleeping in a nest on the floor with Daddy in Tyler's room and Tyler was sleeping in his twin bed. They were BOTH looking out for Tyler at night. Little Max had become his big brother's keeper. And I had my nice king-sized bed to myself. Not that I WANTED it that way, mind you. When John went out of town, both boys would move into my bed.

It wasn't ideal, but it was working.

Then, suddenly, once Tyler's school issues were resolved, we'd found a good doctor, and he was on the right medications, he asked if he could move his computer into his bedroom. It was a small thing. He and Max had shared the dining room space for years. It was a computer, art, homework room and almost never used for actual dining. I was so used to the boys sitting side by side in front of their computers...the thought of Tyler off into his room alone was...weird.

The boys were fighting more often, Tyler had a new friend who was a little older and HE had his own space, and Ty was outgrowing that little twin bed FAST. So it was decided. We cleaning out the room that was designated as "Max's room" but had turned into more of a dressing room and storage space, I went new bed shopping at those excellent Memorial Day mattress sales, and John ran Ethernet through the walls and installed a jack in Tyler's room (he needed the bandwidth for gaming and we didn't want him bogging down our wireless network.)

The new beds arrived, the boys' rooms were rearranged, thoroughly cleaned, organized and Tyler's computer and desk made its journey down the hall to its new home in Tyler's room. No more room for Daddy and Max's nest. Nope. He had a big new bed and a nice new workspace with a nifty navy rug to protect the floor. We held our breath. Tyler hadn't slept alone for almost 12 years.

He went to sleep in his new bed, alone, and didn't come out until morning. And just like that, overnight, I had a teenager. His room was HIS ROOM. No one was allowed in without permission. He became fiercely protective of his privacy. He still sleep walks, but now we just lead him back to his bedroom and he closes the door in our faces. Heh heh. That's my boy.

See? I have a teenager. OVERNIGHT. Quite literally. Do I have my husband back in my bed now? No. *laughs* His nest is now on Max's floor. But I don't expect it to be there long. I think Max's transition to having his own space will be much less painful. I don't think I'll be waiting until Max is 12 before I get my bed buddy back.

Then again...I do snore. Maybe that is the REAL reason I sleep alone. Ha ha!

Wednesday, June 18, 2014


I found myself contemplating a color today...charcoal. My kids think it's a shade of black, but I don't think of it that way. It's a very specific shade of grey. When I was a child, my father would often cook out on the grill. He always used Kingsford charcoal briquettes. I have strong memories of the blue, white and red bags.

Dad would dump a mound of briquettes into the BBQ and neatly arrange them into a pyramid. Then he would spray the stack with an excessive amount of lighter fluid, deftly light a match, toss it onto the pyramid and create an eyebrow searing, two-story high inferno. That was a best part of cooking outside. Well, almost the best part.

See, I would watch the briquettes turn from coal black to a red hot coal covered with a fine ash of charcoal grey. That color. Dad would tap a coal or two with his tongs to see the hot interior. He had a sixth sense about when it was the perfect time to slap steaks or hamburgers down on the grill. I loved that intense sizzle sound the meat would make and the smell of the fragrant smoke.

Many years later, when I got married, my parents gifted us with a little red kettle drum style BBQ. We tried a few times to resurrect the skill our father's had mastered in order to "cook out" but we just didn't have that special talent. Our coals never got that fine charcoal grey coating hiding the very ancient soul that is cooking with fire.

Maybe we needed to use way more lighter fluid than was technically safe. Maybe the perfect shade of charcoal is only achieved through risking your eyebrows.

Monday, June 16, 2014

The New Feminism

I had an enlightening conversation with Max today. He was upset by some comments made by some boys at a classmate's birthday party this weekend. He was playing with a friend's toy and a couple boys were picking on him for playing with a "girl toy." He was outraged.

I told him some people are stuck in old mindsets and they learn this gender segregation from their parents and siblings. Toys are toys and should be made with every child in mind. He agreed with me. We also talked about girls and sports. I told him when I was a little girl, we weren't allowed to play baseball in the Little League. He was horrified! He couldn't understand why because the girls on his team are just as good as the boys.

He had a few words to say about McDonald's restaurants too. He liked the Build-a-Bear toys and resented having to asked for a "girl" toy. Plus, girls like Spiderman and other superhero toys too, according to Max. They shouldn't have to ask for a "boy" toy. Speaking as a girl who loves comics and superheroes, I concurred wholeheartedly.

Now if he can just retain this open and unspoiled world view, I'll be very happy. Sadly, his big brother has succumbed to peer pressure and picks on Max whenever he sees him playing with a "girl toy." I keep correcting him, but Tyler has a pretty unshakable world view right now. The view of a judgmental pre-teen. It's harsh and hurtful. Let's hope he matures right out of it soon.