It's Nice To Share/Are We There Yet?

"We have got to stop meeting like this", I told the receptionist/cashier at the pediatrician's office when Ella, Brennan and I left for the fourth time in less than a week.  Ella had what the doctor referred to as "a nasty ear infection".  Antibiotics.  Next, Brennan was diagnosed with the flu.  His appointment was for 4:40pm and we finally got home about 7pm, after chasing from one pharmacy to the other, trying to fill the prescription for Tamiflu, which everybody seems to be out of.  When we opened the package, there were pills for our four year old Brennan to swallow.  We swapped it for liquid and within 10 hours, he was like brand new.  It actually took longer to GET the correct meds than it did for the meds to take effect. Then, the day after, Ella complained with her throat, as it turned out, because she had strep throat. Different antibiotics. The day after that, Brennan spiked a high fever and we learned he also had strep.  More antibiotics.  If they could only learn to share everything else as well as they do their germs!

Naturally, they recovered in plenty of time to attend Maddie's birthday party in Pearland on Friday evening, but were completely spent, weakened, I suppose after a week in the infirmary and on the way home, expressed that they were tired of being in the car and "how much longer" was it going to take.  Anna and Ella fell asleep, but Brennan was awake and as we drove into Lake Jackson, he began to recognize a few familiar buildings and businesses.  "Mama, what land are we in?" he asked, wanting to know if we were close to home.  We tried not to laugh, but didn't have much luck.  The kids keep us in stitches with their innocent vocabulary as their minds develop.   I could share much more, but the censors would be all over us.

God's Country

He's gone.  My Daddy-in-law quietly passed away this evening and I will be forever grateful that yesterday afternoon, Chelle and I had an opportunity to visit him in Houston one last time.  

I wish you could have known him.  The quintessential gentleman, always impeccably groomed, a good dancer with the social proficiency of a diplomat.  In later years, when his sweetheart and wife was ailing, he took impeccably good care of her, without so much as a single complaint, and nothing else put the light in his eyes like talking about his children and grandchildren.

Knowing how intelligent and friendly he is, it saddened me to see him trapped in a phase void of memories.  Because he lived a full life, Dad now has countless wonderful experiences to remember again.  

I will miss him terribly until I follow, not only because I feel like I have lost another little part of my husband, but because Dad was always kind and made me feel loved.  But it does make me smile to think that now, he is literally in God's country.  Love you, Dad.  

  

This Birth That We Call Death

Earlier today I received a call from my late husband's sweet sister, Marsha, to inform me that my beloved Daddy-in-law is rapidly failing, both mentally and physically.  We've known for some time that he was easing away from us with Alzheimer's and now, his body is catching up with his mind. I tell you this, because I have already begun the grieving process.  

When I returned home from my granddaughter, Maddie's birthday party tonight, I had a message on my machine from Marsha's Jon, letting us know that Dad has taken a turn for the worse, that they don't expect him to live much past the weekend, if that long. My heart is so heavy and yet, I am buoyed up when I visualize the joyful reunion with his wife, whom he adores, his son Michael who adores him, and others that have gone before. 

My wise friend, Virgie, once confided in me that she thinks of death with parallels of the birthing process.  Some departures from this frail existence happen slowly and methodically, while others can be so untimely and quick that there is little time to take it all in. Her husband, for instance, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, just as many babies have come into this world.  But I think of my mother's passing; gradual and predictable, not unlike an infant, making that difficult passage through the birth canal, with our knowledge that a grand event is eminent.  Now, I never fail to think about the comparison of childbirth, when faced with the parting of a loved one.

The irony is, today we celebrate several birthdays other than Maddie's.  My brother-in law, John, was born on this day and more recently, my beautiful granddaughter, Amelia Grace. Our friends, the Ashtons, presented us with a brand new baby girl this week.  My husband, Mike died on his daughter Tracie's birthday and I lost a cousin yesterday to cancer. It is no wonder that in preparation for death, our thoughts are appropriately drawn toward the connection with new life.   

Tonight, I savor the cherished memories I have of this extraordinary man that I have loved and admired from the very first introduction.  Dad would be 90 years old in November and I am aware that nobody is getting out of this world alive, but I often find comfort in the following quote I'll have to paraphrase . . .

"Aren't we grateful that God doesn't leave the details up to us?  When, oh when, would we ever be willing to let go of those we love?"  I am hoping I will have time to visit Dad once more, even though he no longer knows me or will even know that anyone is there at all.  This, I do for me.

Sometimes They Call Me Aaron

Now that the dust has settled, I can relate MY first day of school.  Monday, we stood outside the door of the Pre-K class, waiting for the "gate" to open, allowing little ones inside for a brand new world of experiences.  In anticipation, Brennan was balancing on the hand rail while we spoke to a fellow classmate, AJ, who has a hearing loss and was slightly difficult to understand, so I thought he might have trouble with Brennan's name, since it is not common.  I told AJ that my grandson's name was Brennan, or sometimes we call him Bren or even Brenny. Without even looking up, Brennan said, ". . . and sometimes they call me Aaron".  So very true.  AJ's mother looked a tad confused ~ was Aaron a middle name? A nickname? When I explained it is my youngest child's name, she gave me an immediate knowing look.  To be fair, I call my son Aaron, "Brennan" just as often. Seems it happens in most families.  I know my own mother, on a regular basis,  used to go down the list of six children, ignoring gender differences and surrendering to "oh well, whatever your name is!"  My sisters and I were also often called by our aunts' names, according to their birth order and ours. I am hoping it is not necessarily because we have similar characteristics or personalities, but more about how the human mind works ~ or in the case of mothers, how it is OVERworked.

Ella has been ready for Kindergarten for at least a year, so her excitement was palpable. She is the most animated member of Jen's family, and her dancing around with an indelible smile on her face was not surprising.  Anna, who shares her uncle Aaron's motto regarding school ~ "it takes up all your time", was even ready and willing to begin. Typically, she'd much rather be outside looking for critters or riding her bike but she's experienced a major metamorphosis this summer and is now quite the young lady (yet still likes to ride her bike to the ditch to forage for varmints).  The thing I am most grateful for this year is that all three of Jen's kids attend the school where Jen teaches.  I can't help but feel it is a huge blessing, like an emotional umbrella or security blanket for the children to sense, in their current circumstance, that their mother is always nearby. For a short time, Anna attended a school other than the one where her mother was working, and I don't think even Jen liked it.  Next year, Anna will advance to a different campus, but for now, all the planets are aligned.

Perhaps its the new school clothes that make the older girls' attitudes seem agreeable, but for whatever reason, even Ciara and Cheyenne appeared ready for all the new challenges that lay ahead. Ciara's a new cheerleader this year and is already staying late for volleyball.  Chey knows this will be a difficult year with taking dual college courses and continuing to work part time, but is braced and planning to pace herself for the whole of it.  Bright and beautiful people all around me.

Chelle said Graham, Zach and Maddie were all appropriately cheerful about the beginning of the new school year too.  I racked my brain for a memory of a time that any of my children or grandchildren were less than excited about a first day at school, and I can't recall a single tear, unless you count my own personal tears of joy.  At a young age, I found it disheartening when I'd hear parents count down the days until the first day of school, thinking to myself, "if you'd raise your children with love, they would be a joy to you instead of a nuisance". Call it foolishness. Call it being naive . . . heck, call it Karma!  Now I'm one of 'em! Only I've been counting the hours instead of the days!!  I just don't understand it ~ we DID raise ours with love and they ARE a joy to us. I love cheesecake too, but I don't want it 3 times a day, every day without a break!  So all is right with the world.  School is back in session.

It goes back to the adage, "Always leave 'em wanting more".  I can hardly get through a day without the grandkids, but I have been known to say that "sometimes, the best part of the visit is the tail lights of the car!"  I told Jennifer, our resident teacher, that in my humble opinion, year-round school would be better than having to spend the first two months every new year reviewing all that was forgotten during the summer from last year. Think of it!  Families could even camp out when its cooler or take winter vacations to someplace that actually gets snow more frequently than once every decade or two.  The teacher said no.  Asked and answered.

   

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Repairman

I have a five burner gas Jenn Air stove top that I was deep cleaning in honor of my sister Stacey's impending visit.  Having removed the knobs, I was wiping down the surface of the controls when somehow I must have triggered the electric starter, as the right front burner began to "click" like it was trying to turn on. Regardless of what I tried to do, nothing worked and the clicking would not stop. I called the appliance store where it was purchased and spoke to a woman in the service department who quickly informed me that I must have gotten it wet and I'd just have to let it dry out.  Sounded logical, but that clicking was really getting to me so I took a hair dryer to it for longer than it should have needed and no luck. Still clicking.  After 30 minutes, I called her back and told her I did not think that was the problem. She said it might take several hours. Inquiring what time they closed, I began to think I might need to throw in the towel and have a repairman come out and take a look at it before business hours were over.  She had a snide, pompous laugh when she assured me there was no way anyone could come before Wednesday.  This was Monday morning.  I'm committed to be in Houston all day on Wednesdays, so it would have to be at least Thursday. Not so much was I impatient, as I was irritated that she was totally indifferent to my cause, so I confidently announced I'd simply call someone else!  (Here in these parts we refer to that as "cutting off your nose to spite your face".)

While I was pondering what to do next, I made a not-very-hopeful phone call to my brother Dan and asked if he had any suggestions. He instructed me to locate the outlet that the stove top is plugged into (under the countertop, in the cabinet) and unplug it. I did.  Problem solved.

The only inconvenience was that I had to use a match to light a burner.  Big deal. Next day I plugged it in and it started clicking, but by Thursday, it no longer clicked when plugged in!

There are several lessons to be learned from this experience: 

1) What does it say about their appliances that there are so many calls, they can't schedule you for over 48 hours? Are that many of their appliances needing repair?

2) If an appliance is working properly, do not, under any circumstance, deep clean it.

3) If you wait long enough, a broken appliance will repair itself.

A Tale of Two Cities Vacation

"It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times." (from Charles Dicken's " Tale of Two Cities") My sister, Stacey, from Yorba Linda, CA is here for a visit. She tries her best to come three or four times a year and while she is here, it is much like a circus in an elevator. All 6 of us siblings (and spouses and children, etc) and our Dad gather to join in the festivities every day and night. There is little sleeping, but a lot of eating, racquetball, shopping, grooming & pampering, movies, old stories to retell and enough belly laughs to sustain us until the next trip.  In the process, new memories are made to retell another day. It ain't over yet, as Stacey doesn't fly out until Monday early.

After a fun-filled girls' day out today, we had a fish fry at my sister, Dawn's.  The cousins were running and squealing through the house when 3 year Juliett took a hard spill onto the tile floor and split her head open. ( They really know how to shut down a party.)  A scary amount of blood. Emergency Room. A miserable "all nighter" at the hospital, since it is not only summer, but also the start of the weekend, resulting in an increased number of patients. 

I remember a couple years ago when Jon took Brennan to the ER with a gash in his chin from a nasty fall in the bathtub.  After four hours into the late night, they gave up and went home, never having seen a doctor at all.  They cleaned the wound and put a butterfly closure on it. 

Do-it-yourself healthcare.  We're gonna be seeing a lot more of it.

Post Script:  Juliett finally had a half-dozen stitches after waiting from 9:30 pm until about 3:30 am.  She was extremely patient and brave in the ER with no sign of any residual problems. In fact, she was over tonight for a few minutes and enjoyed romping with her cousins again.

A Sign of the Times

Some years ago when my children were of a tender age, one of the house rules was, if they wanted to see a new movie, it had to be previewed by me before they had permission to watch it.  I learned to LOVE that rule because it afforded me with lots of opportunities to catch "Dollar Night" on Tuesdays at the theater alone, while Mike took care of business at home.  It was, of course, a hard job, but something I was willing to bear up under for the sake and safety of my little ones.

Recently, a couple girlfriends and I have been enjoying frequent movie nights in my home. After watching Ryan Gosling in "Lars and the Real Girl" and "The Notebook" for the umpteenth time, I researched additional movies he starred in and found several, but none of them appeared to be the type of movie I would prefer.  I told Jen that I'm tempted to see them anyway but was concerned that if they were a disappointment, it could possibly mar the affection I feel for Lars and Noah  (characters in his movies).  "Don't worry," Jen said to me, "I'll watch them and let you know if they are appropriate for you."  

Ah, the comforts of my newly- acquired role reversal!