Every year, time seems to move at its normal pace until we hit December 1st. I keep thinking I have TONS of time to get ready for Christmas. And then we hit the 1st and everything goes into overdrive, between church commitments and school activities and various other family and friends kind of activities, and I end up rushing to finish everything that needs to get done in the last 10 days before Christmas. I always feel a little fed up and exhausted and relieved that it's almost done, and there's just nothing right about that. For a number of years we've celebrated Advent as a family, and every night at dinner we read some great verses and talk about what we've read, and then we light a candle. It's great, and meaningful, and it tends to keep us a little more focused on what's important. But we're now a week into Advent, and we haven't had time for it. Well, we haven't made the time, I guess.
I love to read Jan Karon's Shepherds Abiding every year around the holidays. The main character reflects on the fact that "...jumping into the fray the day after Halloween was akin to hitting, and holding, high C for a couple of months, while a bit of patience saved Christmas for Christmas morning and kept the holidays fresh and new." I have a hard time not getting caught up in all of it though, what with Christmas stuff in every store, commercials on TV, and endeavouring to memorize Christmas music every week at choir practice. I find that if i'm not careful, it all becomes quite tedious and exhausting, and the real point of Christmas is lost. So it's all about finding ways to inject real Christmas into everything. I love John 1:14, which says "The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory". When I really sit and think about what that means, it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck a bit. I love the verses in Isaiah, too. And listening to Handel's Messiah.
I've been thinking a lot recently about what Christmas will be like this year without Dad, and dreading it. It's so strange to be shopping for everybody but him. And I'm sad that last Christmas was his last one with us and we didn't know. But on the flip side of things, I can't help but think about the fact that Dad has met Emmanuel face to face! The Word! God's glory has been revealed to him, and Dad is understanding more about Christmas now than he ever did when he was here.
Thinking about that makes me want to try and capture some of that perspective for myself. So heading into these next 19 days, I'm going to try to shift my focus; away from tedious choir practices and shopping and work deadlines and the myriad of other things that clamor for my attention. And instead think about this:
For unto us a child is born,
unto us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace
I woke up at 2 this morning...thinking/worrying about things i didn't get done over the weekend. I didn't get out to my parents' to get their mail and pick up cheques to pay a couple of things; didn't go to the bank with the POA so that i can activate their new visas; didn't talk to Wilmot about the house...blah blah blah. So i read for a little, hoping to fall asleep again, but i could tell it just wasn't going to happen. So at 2:30, i went out to my parents' house. I picked up the mail, got the cheques and got some winter type clothes for my mom. Cried the whole time i was there. We really need to sell the house, because it just makes me SO sad to go out there. Sad to think that they will never be back there, and that there will be no more Christmases or birthdays or Sunday lunches out there. I know that we will still have those things, but it won't be like it was. And i know that eventually i will accept it, because if there's one thing i have learned in the last 2 months its that you can get used to anything. But the grieving is so hard and so tiring. And catches me off-guard too.
It's such a strange time, with the normal stuff all mixed in with the upside down parts. At times I feel guilty for not being sad all the time, and for laughing and making plans and enjoying fall colours when there is so much that my dad is missing out on and will never enjoy again, or at least not in the same way he always has. Hanging on a bit by my fingernails today...
These last 4 weeks have had a nightmarish quality. Dad has been in the hospital and just isn't well. We've been riding a roller coaster of good, fairly lucid days, and heartbreaking days where the man in the bed is a stranger to us all. I don't think i've ever cried so much in such a short span of time. And interestingly, there have been many laugh until I almost pee my pants kind of moments. Because when Kimberly and I spend any amount of time together, we will find something to laugh about.
It was probably a good thing Kimberly wasn't at the hospital with me this weekend, because i was having a hard enough time holding it together on my own. The man in the bed next to dad is 101 years old, slightly hard of hearing, and apparently obsessed with a clean shave. His family visits him quite regularly, and we're forced to sit in silence while they chat with him because they have to shout at him to be heard. And of course, dad talks in a whisper, so it's a perfect storm of conversation improbability. Or something. You know what i mean.
So today, Mr. Smith's daughter came to visit, and the conversation was punctuated with questions about the whereabouts of his electric razor. Daughter would ask questions about how he was sleeping, or if he had eaten, etc., and he would give a perfunctory response and then ask WHERE'S MY RAZOR? And each time, she would tell him that it was in his drawer, but apparently he was looking for a favourite razor. After about 15 minutes of DAD, WOULD YOU LIKE A GLASS OF WATER?....WATER!.... W-A-T-E-R!!...DO YOU WANT A DRINK?, interspersed with inquiries about the razor, Daughter decided to take a break and go visit her 96-year-old mom, who is a patient down the hall. Later, Daughter came back with David, the grandson. So David goes over to the bed and says HI POPPA!! HOW ARE YOU? and Poppa says WHERE'S MY RAZOR? The conversation continued in the same vein, until with the final request for the razor, David says YOU DON'T NEED A SHAVE ANYWAY, POPPA. YOU LOOK PRETTY GOOD! and Poppa says YEAH, I DO. At which point, I was just about on the floor. Daughter and grandson left, promising to look at home for the razor he wanted.
It seems odd to find so many funny things to laugh about when there is such an underlying feeling of sadness too. But i don't know how you could help but laugh at the sight of a patient sitting outside the hospital with a half full urinal bottle sitting in the basket of his scooter. And laughing just seems to make all the ups and downs more bearable.
Reading the Psalms is good, too. Here's my favourite part of Psalm 34:
The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Today when I picked up the girls from school I was so excited to see that Lauren was bringing home her class’ pet hermit crabs.Aren’t I a party pooper? I’m sorry, but I just immediately flashed forward to a hysterical “MOMMY!! HAVE YOU SEEN T-PAIN AND LIL WAYNE??” moment.Oh, did I not mention that those are their names?Someone in Lauren’s class suggested those, and apparently the majority ruled and so they were christened.Neither one looks like their rapper namesake, but maybe with some really low-riding jeans and some serious bling there would be a greater resemblance.(honestly, how hilarious is it that I found a picture of them at underarock dot com??)Lauren and Emma have decided to call them Hermy and Sheldon, so in a heartbeat they went from hip to nerdsville.
I asked Lauren what needed to be done for the crabs tonight, and she assured me that they only need a couple of food pellets.Thankfully, we are not responsible for cleaning out the tank or anything.There was some talk about letting them out to walk around, but when the girls heard my “you’re going to let them out on my KITCHEN TABLE??”, Lauren heaved a big sigh and said “not necessarily…”.They don’t seem to have any odour, which is good (although Will did say he thought something smelled liked corned beef).I’m not big on odours, although I can tell you quite honestly that I have never seen anyone react as badly to a strong smell as Emma’s friend Kendra.She was in our group for our zoo trip at the beginning of the month and I was just about on the floor every time we went into a pavilion to look at the animals.She would make the most astonishing gagging/hacking sounds.The first time it happened, I truly expected to turn around and see her lung lying on the ground.
Sorry, went off on a whole other tangent there. So here's hoping that the crabs don't keel over tonight, and go back to school tomorrow safe and sound. I told Lauren that she'd better keep an eye on Inky, because she was scoping out the tank like "hmm...hermit crabs...it's what's for dinner".
So today I went on a trip to Safety Village with Emma's class. The trip had an interesting start; I arrived at the school to find a tearful Emma, who was hoping that I had brought her bike helmet. The very bike helmet that I asked her 842 times to put with her bag AND LEAVE IT THERE. The bike helmet that was in fact lying on the floor in the living room, having been used as a football earlier in the morning by her siblings. So I raced home, hoping to get back before they were ready to get on the bus. No such luck. I screeched into the parking lot and ran to the bus, cheered on by the 3rd graders hanging out the windows chanting "GO, CAROLYN GO!!". And I wish I was kidding about that.
We got to Safety Village, which is a really cute kid-sized town where kids learn about road safety and bike safety and other good stuff. We were somewhat dismayed to discover that instead of having the place to ourselves, we would be sharing the village with another school, since some nob had double booked the slot. Officer Astrid said that there would be a total of 80+kids, rather than just our 20 or so.
I have to say that Officer Astrid MADE the whole experience for me. As soon as I heard her name, I grinned to myself because I immediately thought of The Office; the one where they throw the baby shower for Jan and her baby, Astrid. Only, Michael gets the name wrong, and they wind up getting ASTIRD printed on the personalized M&Ms. So of course, I couldn't think of this police officer any other way. Especially since she was just such a bizarre personality.
Officer Astrid treated the kids like they were in boot camp. She stood with her feet at least shoulder width apart and kept hollering "YES, SIR" or "NO, MA'AM" at the kids when they put up their hands to answer a question. She yammered for about 10 minutes about how short on time we were, and how difficult it was going to be to get everything done in the time we had, and there was no time for shenanigans, and there was to be no talking without raising your hand...you get the idea. Then she regaled them with truly horrifying stories about bikes that got totally mangled by trains, and what can happen to you if you put stickers on your helmet. She talked about sustaining terrible soft tissues injuries...if you didn't break your neck first. HOLY COW.
After 45 minutes, she finally ran out of horror stories and told us that we'd be moving on to the helmet inspection. And when one of the kids shouted "FINALLY!!!!", I wanted to add a big AMEN.
The kids rode around the village on bikes, and most of them actually stopped at the red lights and stop signs. Then there were others who were completely in their own world and just cruised on through the intersections without a clue, rode on the wrong side of the road and pulled illegal U-turns all over the place. Was it wrong that I found all of that hilarious? I also loved Officer Astrid's wrap up at the end. She said the same thing about 50 different ways (which seemed to be her gift); namely, that she hoped the kids had enjoyed themselves, and that she and the other volunteers, parents and teachers had all worked very hard to make it an enjoyable experience. And that basically, if they didn't have a good time, it was their own fault because they had obviously come in with the wrong attitude. Well alrighty.
I love the school trips where something out of the ordinary happens (that doesn't involve me holding a bag for some kid to barf into on the bus ride home), so this will definitely be one that I remember. Now if I can only be sure that I won't have nightmares about the stickers on my helmet...
There are a number of blogs that I follow daily and really enjoy reading. And recently I've been asking myself how in the world do they do this? Specifically, how is it that they are able to blog every day, on top of everything else they have going on?? Pioneer Woman lives on a working cattle ranch with her husband and 4 kids, and among other things, she cooks and gardens and renovates her beautiful home....oh, and homeschools the aforementioned 4 children! And she blogs about all of it. In one of her blog posts a little while ago, she mentioned that she even cleans cow poop off her front porch. I am completely impressed, let me tell you. (Particularly because there has been dog poop from some random dog at the bottom of my front lawn for a day or so and i have been unable to steel myself to pick it up.) I feel pleased with myself if I'm able to make something relatively healthy for my family for dinner that doesn't get slapped on a cookie sheet, never mind taking fabulous pictures of it all during the cooking process. (Did I mention that PW is also a photographer?) However, this is not going to be a whiny post about all my shortcomings. It was just something I thought about when I reflected on how long it's been since I last posted here. I won't bore you with the details about the myriad of things that has kept me from my blog (work, killer cold/virus, laundry, mammogram, to name a few), but I will tell you about an outing I had with my parents this week. Dad has Parkinson's and goes to see his neurologist twice a year. Truthfully, I loath this excursion. It's a big, long, boring drive (2+ hours, round trip) and the appointment itself takes all of about 5.3 minutes. However, the doc is extremely well known in his field and has won awards for his work in movement disorders, blah blah blah. Thank goodness it's only twice a year. But in the wise words of Miley Cyrus "ain't about how fast I get there...ain't about what's waiting on the other side...", it's all about the drive. (Excuse my Miley reference; we've been listening to A LOT of Hannah Montana movie soundtrack over here). My dad hasn't been behind the wheel in a number of years now, but man, can he drive from the passenger seat. He doesn't even try to be diplomatic about it. I lost track of how many times he said "Where are you GOING?" on Wednesday, with the implication that I was about to drive the car into oncoming traffic, or maybe somehow had forgotten where we live. It used to really tick me off, but I find it's more effective if I'm just over-the-top cheerful about it all. After a few chirpy "You're right! I COULD have gone that way...but I'm going THIS way!!" kind of comments, he backs off a little. Thank goodness I have him and mom there to find parking spots for me, though (she said, sarcastically): Dad: There's one! Me: (having already spotted it) Yep. Dad: Up by the door. Me: (waiting for the guy to actually back out of the spot first) Got it. Mom: Oooh...there's a nice close one right by the door! Me: (grinding my teeth a little) I'm on it. Dad: Get that one by the door. Me: Yeah, I think I'll actually let the guy get all the way out of it FIRST!! (depending on where we are in the drive, there may not be any room left for chirpy). Fun, right? Even better was the conversation after we'd been to the bank, when dad was grumbling about a few pension issues that apparently hadn't yet been rectified...a conversation between Dad and I that was punctuated every 15 seconds by mom saying "But did MY money come in?" or "But MY pension came in, right?". Kinda reminded me of those little kids that are relentless in trying to get your attention..."Mom. Mom. Mom? Mom?? MOM!!!" So this is one facet of my life at the moment. And I do think a lot about blogging about this and other things, but sheesh. There is effort required. However, I'm not going to worry about being a superwoman and try to do it all. Miley says "life is just a party, so come as you are" (seriously...HM movie soundtrack going all.the.time), and I guess she's right. ;)
Emma and I had quite the conversation on the way home from church tonight.It seems that 8-year-old girls can be quite catty to one another, and she was filling me in on a few squabbles that have taken place at school recently.We talked about how some people can seem crabby and argumentative, but that it’s a good idea to not take it personally, since you don’t know what’s going on in the other person’s life.I said, “Who knows?Maybe she’s just having a bad day because her mom yelled at her that morning” (a scenario I’m quite sure Emma can relate to).And this is how the conversation went after that:
Emma:Well, I think I know why Suzi (not her real name) is kind of crabby…she had an operation on her arm a couple of years ago.
Me:Oh, and she’s still upset about it?
Emma:Well, now she has a fake arm.
Me:I’m sorry… did you say a fake arm??
Emma:Yep.She has one fake arm and one real arm.Once, we were in gym and she smacked me with her arm and I was like, OWWW!!! And she said Oh, sorry about that Emma.That was my fake arm.It has metal in it.
Me:(a little dazed) OH…and does it look like her other arm?
Emma:Pretty much.It has veins in it, but there wasn’t any blood in the veins until March Break.She said she had some blood put in on March Break.
Me:Well, I guess all of that would make you crabby once in a while. (I don’t know…it was hard to know how to respond after the whole vein thing)
Emma: Well, that and also she lives with her aunt…her mom drinks.
Me:OH!!
Emma:And her dad too.
Me:OH MY.
I'm not quite sure what to make of all of it, really. I think we'll add her to our prayer list. The part about living with her aunt is probably a sad truth, unfortunately. But I think i need to check out the arm for myself!
The onset of winter means a lot of things...early sunsets, blankets of clean white snow, pretty ice-encrusted tree branches, and sadly, hawked up phlegm all over sidewalks and parking lots wherever you go. Is there anyone other than me that is totally grossed out by this? In trying to get from the door of the grocery store to my car in the parking lot this morning, I felt as though I was navigating through a mine field. Because here is my dilemma: Do I keep my head up, and then avoid seeing all the puddles of...stuff (but risk walking blindly through it), or do I keep my eyes on the ground (BLECH) and my shoes clean by skirting the nasties?
I suppose people are just generally more productive over the winter, but holy cow. Try a decongestant, for crying out loud.
Happy New Year! I realize that's a little lame, considering we're looking at February in another 24 hours or so. Although it was Chinese New Year on Monday, so maybe i'll just impress all 5 of you who read this blog with how culturally relevant i am.
I have missed my blog, but it's been hard to find the energy for it. Christmas was wonderful, but i have to say that it pretty much sucked the life out of me, and i spent as many days of Christmas break in my pajamas as i possibly could. And then i spent the first few weeks in January scrambling to catch up with everything work-related. If i was to summarize my activities over the past month or so in just a few words, my list would look something like this: work, pharmacy, school, pharmacy, work, groceries, pharmacy, laundry, work, school... you get the idea. And of course, there's FACF (Fish and Chip Friday), my weekly excursion to Captain George's to pick up dinner for my parents. Oh, George. Why do you not deliver?
But enough about all that. Blah, blah, blah...I'm busy. Who isn't?
We are getting ready for Lauren to go to Quebec on Sunday for her skiing/snowboarding trip. She's beyond excited, and i'm trying not to hyperventilate about the thought of her driving 6 hours away from me. Well, that and the image of her hurtling down a mountain on a couple of fibreglass sticks. Oh man. Get me a paper bag.
In other news, Lauren has started guitar lessons, which she is finding to be great fun. And it looks like it will be a 2-for-1 deal, because Will is watching what she does on it and teaching himself.
Those are probably our most exciting news items at the moment. Although I did get a new cell phone. Interestingly, mine was recalled because it didn't meet the required safety standards. What was likely to happen? Maybe it would pinch my finger a little too aggressively as i flipped it closed? Make prank calls without my knowledge? Whatever the reason, it was a good deal for me, since i wound up with a nicer phone, complete with camera and MP3 player. So now i'll spend all my spare time listening to music and taking pictures of myself making funny faces to post on Facebook. ;)
1. The sweating 2. Snow that sticks to the shovel 3. Bits of driveway that stick to the shovel 4. The sweating 5. Steamed up glasses 6. Neighbours who stand around chatting as they watch you clear not only your driveway, but also your decrepit elderly neighbour's driveway 7. The drowned rat 'do i'm always sporting by the time i'm done 8. The sweating
Yeah, i realize that's only 8, but i'm too tired from shoveling to list anymore. So sue me. ;)
Eleven years ago tonight, I was in labour.Lauren’s birth was the only one of my three that occurred without any jumpstarting.I was induced with Will because he was 10 days late, and I was induced 2 days before Emma’s due date because she was bound to be late like the others.As a side note, all of my kids were born on a Sunday, and all on or around some kind of holiday weekend.In actual fact, Lauren’s birthday technically fell on a Monday, since she was born on the stroke of midnight.But whatever. We were just glad she wasn’t born in the van.Because she almost was.
I had been to my OB on the Friday, 10 days past my due date.He gave me the good news that absolutely NOTHING was going on, and said that he’d bring me in to induce me on Monday. So I spent Saturday and Sunday doing the nesting thing, washing everything in site and making sure I had everything I was going to need.On Sunday night I even took my stroller apart to clean it, and it was about then that I realized that the cramps I’d been feeling for an hour or so were actually contractions.I told Darren that I thought maybe I was in labour, and he of course wanted to go to the hospital immediately (about 25-30 minutes away).However, I figured I had time to finish my laundry, and so I just kept hollering “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE” every time I had a contraction.I can still remember him saying to me “That couldn’t have been another one already…it’s only been about 10 minutes since the last one”, and I said “BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU THAT WAS A CONTRACTION”.
Long story short, we eventually got on our way, after first dropping Will off at my parents’ house (and picking up Kimberly).I remember sitting at a red light across from the hospital and noticing that I was shaking.I said to Darren and Kimberly “hmm…I think I may be further along than I thought”.Uh, yeah.I got wheeled around to Labour and Delivery while Darren did the registration thing in the ER, and when the nurse examined me, she said “oooh, you’re 8.5 cm.Won’t be long now!”.I said (foolishly) “I’ll still have time for my epidural, RIGHT?”.Ha.My water broke about 20 seconds later and everything went into overdrive.Poor Kimberly had the door slammed in her face and my father-in-law had to run and grab Darren from the ER so that he wouldn’t miss it.And the whole time, I was lying on the bed saying “uh…I don’t think I can do it without the drugs.How about some Demerol, even?”.They pretty much ignored me.
Fortunately, Lauren popped out after a push or two, and all was well.It’s so funny to us that Lauren didn’t wait to be induced, but came all on her own.That is so totally her personality.She has always been a go-getter type.She wanted to do things all by herself and was tying her shoes before her 4th birthday.When she was tiny, she had definite ideas about the clothes she wanted to wear and would put together some fairly mind-boggling ensembles. She’s never been particularly shy, and I have some hilarious video of her sitting on the stage at Will’s nursery school graduation.He didn’t want to sit up there, and so she seized the opportunity when I was looking the other way.
Lauren is like my right hand.If I need something done, she’s the person to ask. Quite often I’ll be scrambling to finish some work in the morning, and Lauren will get up and get herself ready for school, and then she runs around and pours cereal for the others and helps Emma get her snack ready, brings agendas to be signed, etc, etc.She’s sweet and affectionate and nurturing and hilarious.She loves to play Rock Band with Will, and still plays babies and barbies with Emma.She has her huffy, snit fit moments, and we have had to outlaw any trading of personal belongings between her and Emma, since it inevitably leads to a knock-down-drag-out when somebody won’t trade back.But she really is a fantastic kid.
I love the promises God makes in Isaiah 43, and my prayer for Lauren is that she will always know that she is the Lord’s:
But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
Isaiah 43:1-2
(The first picture of Lauren is from kindergarten...if my scanner was working i'd have put up a baby picture. How cute was she there, really? The others were taken within the past year.)
Several times as I've come down the off-ramp at the Kennedy Road exit from the 401, there has been a young guy standing at the intersection with a piece of cardboard in his hands. You've probably seen something similar. The face is different, but the same sad story is on the cardboard: NO JOB. NO MONEY. WIFE AND KIDS TO SUPPORT. Or something along those lines. A cardboard testimony, of sorts.
A few months ago, my sister sent me a video on Facebook, and I watched it again just the other day and was moved by it all over again. Real church people sharing their cardboard testimonies...who they were before Christ, and who they have become because of His grace. I love the honesty of it. I think we spend so much time trying to hide things from people, giving the impression that we have it all together. I know do it.
Here's the video. Go ahead and watch it. I'll wait.
We don't all have dramatic testimonies, like being a meth addict or a cancer survivor. But we are all the same because we need Him to change us. I saw myself in some of those testimonies, and it made me wonder what I would write on my own piece of cardboard. This is what I came up with:
Tonight was our Meet the Teacher BBQ at school. Is there anyone who really looks forward to these evenings? Don't get me wrong...it's not that I'm not interested in meeting the teacher, or seeing how the kids are doing so far. They're always so proud to show us their classrooms, and to introduce us to their teachers. We like that part. We don't mind squatting on the grass to eat our burgers, and we've learned to dress properly for the always steamy book fair in the library.
Basically, we just get somewhat irritated by the other parents. You know the ones, right? The keeners who nab the teacher for 15 minutes, even though the classroom is FULL of parents waiting to talk to her. Or the ones who holler at each other across the library while about 80 of us sweat all over our purchases in the the checkout line and listen to them discuss what shirt Connor was wearing in the photo montage. But this is not a post about that. So i'll stop there and do a little shamless bragging, instead.
It was a pretty good night. The teachers had nice things to say, and the kids are all doing great work, so we were happy. I was feeling a little sheepish about meeting Will's teacher because of a project he finished a week or so ago. Each student had to design a coat of arms, complete with a family motto. Will had asked for our help with the motto part, and I had laughingly suggested "Better out than in". Well, guess what he used:
Yep. We're all about bathroom humor around here. I laughed at Will's friend's motto, which was "What could possibly go wrong?".
Will also did an assignment about himself called "I am". Darren and I really liked it, because it was witty and smart, and totally him. I liked it so much that I decided to share it with you:
I am
I am smart and funny I wonder about gravity I hear everybody talking really loud-ish I see myself as an engineer I want unlimited food and video games I am smart and funny
I pretend to play guitar I feel hungry all the time I touch invisible stuff I worry that Pluto will randomly explode I cry when I cut onions I am smart and funny
I understand Santa isn't real (sob) I say good shows shouldn't be cancelled I dream that I'm super strong and can beat everyone up (even Arnold Schwarzenegger) I try to push myself wherever possible I hope I get good marks on my report card (wink wink Miss P!) I am smart and funny
This is Lauren displaying the autobiography she's been working on. So cute! The work displayed on the wall in the background included some more info about each kid, including their goals and dreams. Lauren had put down that she wants to be a teacher one day, which didn't surprise us. But what did surprise us was the section called "My Hero", which turned out to be US. She said that we always protect her when she gets scared and we help her with her everyday problems. Sweet, right?
This is a painting Emma did about home. The caption says "A house is a safe place and a cozy place". I love it . I like how she has really, really long legs in the picture. (I think the little short person next to her is her friend Omer. He made the little cutout person, and she stuck it on.) Emma's goal for the month in her classroom was to chat less. hahaha!
A highlight of the night for me was when one of the teachers mistook me for a student! Okay, he was probably just beeing nice and in all likelihood needs glasses, but still! I'll take it. =)
My friend Michelle says that we are the Sandwich Generation...people caught between their aging parents and young children. And I have to say quite frankly that that is how I feel a lot of the time...caught.
The past few weeks have been exhausting. The kids are back at school and are starting piano lessons and swimming lessons and Tuesday night church stuff, and all of that makes for a busy week. But then you factor in a few appointments for the parents, to say nothing of taking them to the ER, picking up prescriptions at the drugstore, doing their grocery shopping or updating bankbooks (all of which we have done in the past 7-10 days), and you have yourself a whole different ballgame. Mom really hates to drive now, and Dad has told me that he actually doesn't like to drive with her. (Apparently Mom likes the outside lane A LOT, to the point that she's driving on the shoulder from time to time.) So I have become their designated driver and official senior-citizen-hauler to their various appointments. Except that sometimes it fees like I'm out with my kids, rather than my parents.
Yesterday Dad had pulmonary function tests here in Oshawa. So I had to go out to Bowmanville and pick them up, and then bring them back in for the appointment. I dropped them off at the entrance and gave them specific instructions about taking the green elevators down one floor. I dashed off to park the car, telling them that I would meet them downstairs. When I found them in the waiting room, I was relieved to see that they'd made it, and asked whether they'd had any trouble. Turns out they had been up to the floor where the babies are, and then somewhere else before finally making it down to the basement level WHERE I TOLD THEM TO GO.
So we're sitting in the hall waiting for Dad's turn, and Mom keeps making references to what we did when we were here last time, and whether this was the same place we went to the last time, etc., even though Dad and I kept telling her that we hadn't been to this place before. She finally says "Well, I'm sure we HAVE been here before, because that door (pointing at it) looks VERY familiar to me!" At which point I was fed up and said "Maybe it just looks familiar to you from when you saw it 5 MINUTES AGO when you were taking a grand tour of the place."
But then we're finally done and on our way out. I tell them that I will run on ahead and get the car and then meet them at the MAIN ENTRANCE. I say to Mom "Follow this green line to the blue elevator over there and take it up ONE FLOOR ONLY. Then go around to the main entrance." So of course, I end up sitting out front waiting and waiting and waiting for them. After zipping around to the other entrance to make sure that they weren't waiting at the wrong door, I come back just as they are coming out the front doors. I asked them where they'd been and Mom said "Where HAVEN'T we been?". Appparently they rode the elevator for a few minutes, got off again in the basement and then somehow managed to make it to the main floor, and eventually to the front entrance. I'm exhausted just thinking about it all over again.
Two minutes into the drive home, and Mom gets her keys out...jingle jingle jingle. We still have a stop to make along our 20 minute ride home (jingle jingle jingle), but let's get those keys out so that we're ready to unlock the front door the instant the car rolls to a stop in the driveway. Here's something you should know about me: I have a really low tolerance for fiddly noises like that. You can ask my kids...we have coined the word fissiling, as in WHO THE HECK IS FISSILING THAT PLASTIC BAG BACK THERE???
I don't know which was worse...the jingle jingle of the keys, or Mom psyching herself up to change her PIN number at the bank (our last stop before home). Every 2 minutes, I'd hear some variation of the following:
"OK, so I just say to them (jingle jingle jingle) that I need to choose a new PIN number for my card."
"Yes, Mom."
"And then I just choose my password." jingle jingle jingle
"Yes, Mom."
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. OH MAN. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or just grab those keys and hurl them out the window.
I love my parents dearly, and I realize that getting old can't be much fun, especially when you lose your independence. Dad would love to be able to drive himself wherever he needs to go, and to have the energy and abilities that he used to have. Mom has a whole anxiety thing going on that we haven't figured out yet, and she doesn't want to do a lot of the things she used to do. So I find myself talking to them like I do my kids...reassuring them, comforting them, encouraging them, and occasionally nagging at them to stop their squabbling or put on their seatbelts. Some days, the sandwich seems like a nice turkey with mayo, lettuce and tomato on a yummy croissant. Other days it's more like the one I found in Will's lunch box last week (left there since the end of June)...green and fuzzy and totally gag-inducing. I guess I'll settle for somewhere in between.
Well!That was a hiatus and a half.We had a bit of a wild ride this summer, and I had absolutely no energy left for blogging.The cousins came for VBS and stayed for 2 weeks in July, which is always a good time.I spent the week after they left trying to catch up on some work and get myself organized before we headed to Syracuse at the end of the month for Sam’s birthday.
We got to Syracuse on the 24th, which is when things started getting hairy.Within an hour or so of arriving at Kimberly’s house, Darren said “hmm…I’ve got a real cramp” and he pointed at his lower abdomen.I said “GOOD LORD, IT’S NOT A KIDNEY STONE, IS IT?” (like the kind, compassionate person that I am).He said “oh no, I don’t THINK so”.HA.Within 5 minutes, he was doubled over in agony, and we were on our way to the hospital.We had travel insurance, but I was uptight anyway because I was immediately envisioning all kinds of huge problems…like he wouldn’t be able to pass the stone, or maybe the morphine wouldn’t work, or it would be obstructed and maybe he’d need surgery, etc., etc.I’m basically a “the glass is bone dry” kind of person.
Fortunately, after about 10 mg of morphine, an x-ray and 2 ½ hours at the hospital, the pain eased off and we were able to go home.But now I was worried about how the week would shape up.The kids and I were planning to stay for the week, but Darren was heading home on Sunday because he had to start work at a new job on Monday.I did not at all feel good about him driving home by himself…what if the stone started up again?However, he passed the stone on Saturday, and I felt that I could safely let him go home while the kids and I stayed.We said PHEW!GLAD THAT DRAMA’S OVER.
So Darren left on the Sunday.On Monday morning, Emma told me that her tummy hurt.You have to understand, she says this quite a bit.So I told her that probably she was a little constipated, which is my usual response.She didn’t seem too bad during the morning, but as the afternoon went on, she was obviously not feeling well.She threw up at dinnertime, and Kimberly, Richard and I said “ah…stomach flu”.We entertained some less than charitable thoughts about Richard’s sister and brother-in-law for a few minutes, thinking that their kids had brought the plague to the house on the weekend.
I was up with Emma all Monday night.And I was anxious.Something about it didn’t seem right.At about 3 or 4 am, I was googling “kids green vomit”, but surprisingly, there was not a lot of pertinent information. On Tuesday she seemed better.She didn’t have a fever and was able to keep down crackers and ginger ale.But at dinner time, she told me her tummy really hurt A LOT when she got up to go to the bathroom, and when I took her temp, she was 100.3.To make a long story short, I googled symptoms for appendicitis, and after calling Darren and our travel insurance people AGAIN, Kimberly and I headed to the ER.
What a night.Even now, it’s a big blur, but some of the things that stand out in my mind include the image of Emma’s little face, so pale under her tan…Kimberly bribing her to drink the CT contrast stuff for her x-ray (“just 5 more sips Emma, and then I’ll let you sleep for 10 minutes”)…trying to catch even a few minutes of sleep while leaning on a hospital laundry hamper type thing…steeling myself to use the hospital bathroom (blech)…Kimberly and I cleaning out our purses at 1 am, and finding the whole process inexplicably hilarious…shivering in my lead vest with a combination of anxiety and cold while Emma had her CT scan at 1:30 am…my enormous sense of relief and dread at hearing that she did in fact have appendicitis…and Kimberly and I squeezed into an oversized chair, trying desperately to get some sleep before Emma’s surgery (no such luck).
It all felt very surreal.Emma went for her surgery at about 7:30 Wednesday morning and was very brave as they wheeled her down the hall.I really don’t think she had too much of a clue about what was going on.Kimberly and I went and got some really crappy tea from the cafeteria and then cried in the waiting room for a while until Emma’s wonderful doctor came in and told us that the surgery was over.Her appendix had ruptured, so she was a pretty sick little girl and would wind up being in the hospital for a week on IV antibiotics.
It feels like this one event took over our whole summer.Our annual camping trip had to be scrapped because Emma had to take it easy for the first 2 weeks after she was out of the hospital, and couldn’t do any lake swimming for the rest of the month, anyway.She really didn’t feel 100% until about the last week in August.And by then it was time to get organized for school.
I still feel like I’m trying to catch up and get into the fall routine, and yet the other day when I was driving to school with the kids, I felt like the summer hadn’t even happened…like this has just been the longest school year EVER. This post certainly has been long enough, so I'll post my Emma-in-the-hospital pics separately. Thanks for stopping by!
These are some pictures we took while Emma was in the hospital. Blogger would not let me do what i wanted to do with them, so they are just chucked on here in a row. I have to figure out how to do what i want to do with my pictures on here! For now, i'll put a little commentary about the pictures under each one.
This was how she was for the first few days. SO EXHAUSTED. We were able to cheer her up with some stuffed animals, however. Bebe even made a trip to the zoo to get the red panda you see in this picture!
Even hugging the stuffed animals didn't always help! She loved the Pink Google that Aunt Eness and the cousins had delivered to her from the gift shop. She basically sat holding her "stuffies" for the first few days, watching the Disney Channel on the TV over her bed. Let me just say that if i never again see another episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, it will be too soon.
Will hogging the big (and only semi-comfy) seat in the room. This would be the chair that Kimberly and I crammed into in an attempt to get some sleep before Emma's surgery. Needless to say, we had no luck whatsoever. This is actually a pullout, where i slept (or Darren did) each night.
Lauren had the right idea. Why sit on an uncomfortable chair when Emma's using less than half of the bed? One of the thousands of interns/residents/doctors that came by to check Emma out at regular intervals saw the girls sitting together on the bed and said "Oh, are they twins?".
Up and around! For the first few times she was up, Emma walked all hunched over like a little old man. She didn't enjoy the getting up and moving around part because she felt dizzy and had more pain. However, we dragged her and her pole down the hall to the playroom at the end of the hall and played games of hangman on the chalkboard.
Discharge day! We were SO excited to be getting out! Sammy and Bebe came to pick us up, and Sam got to share the wheelchair with Emma. He looks a little anxious because the male nurse who had wheeled us out to the parking garage had just popped a bit of a wheelie with the chair.
