*Y a w n...
**S t r e t c h h h....
*Sigh. The weekend is over.
I wish it wasn't so, but it is. It's Monday and back to work time. Not that I didn't work all weekend, but it was work of a totally different animal. HOUSEwork. Normally I would consider that a foul word, but over the weekend I found it to be very relaxing. Stress relieving even. Yes, really. =)
Thanksgiving was lovely. Leftovers the next night, followed by a family game of Sequence, even better. Boys (hubby, middle son, bro in law) VS Girls (sis in law, neice, moi) and the boys won. We let 'em. You know boys can't lose to girls!
The tree is up and looking so pretty.
I gotta admit though, last year when Craig brought home a faux tree in a box? I was not okay. I maybe even had an allergic reaction. Tree's don't come in BOXES. They grow, outside, and they smell wonderful. And then we kill 'em & drag 'em in the house where sap sticks like glue to your light strands and gift wrap and they lose little sharp pine needles into the carpet that you are still finding come Valentines Day. And it's all perfectly natural. It's part of the charm, the tradition.
But when I looked at him that day to give him my "what on Earth were you thinking" glare, I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him that I didn't love it. He was smiling from ear to ear, like a little kid who plucks a mustard weed flower and presents it to his mommy to wear in her hair.
"Look what I found on sale!" he announced. (This in itself was a Christmas miracle. My husband not only went shopping, he found a sale - and knew what to do with it! For some women this could be the equivalent to foreplay.)
"And it's pre-lit", he went on, "so no more tangled messes." He was armed with all kinds of chipper comments.
So I sucked it up, told myself I could do anything once, and decorated the damn thing and smiled anyways. I don't think he ever walked by the thing that he didn't declare his genius. Men.
But this year...this year as I hauled the boxed faux tree down from its hiding place, unraveled the bubble wrap, stuck it together & began to unfold it's hinged branches, a new feeling came over me. I decided I kinda like this tree. First of all, it's not costing me a penny this year. Make that first, second, and third of all - cause who has extra money laying around this year, right? And it also reminded me of another time when Craig brought me home a tree...
I was a single mama working my butt off just to keep the lights on and the fridge stocked. It was the first week of December and I hadn't even thought about getting a tree yet...so my grandmothers took it upon themselves to get one for me. It was small but fat, unevenly flocked white and ungodly ugly. Not that I don't like flocked or white Christmas tree's, because I totally do. But this one looked like an untrained monkey with a can of spray on snow had done the deed. Seriously, Charlie Brown's tree was better.
When I tucked the boys in bed that night I sat there looking at it and bawled. What was my world coming to?
Now I know that that probably sounds totally ridiculous and unappreciative, but I swear it wasn't like that. My grandmothers were notorious for taking charge (or just plain taking over) and it was like they didn't trust me to get my own stinking tree now that I was husbandless. It was about so much more than a Christmas tree...
Craig called me, we were only dating then, so he actually called me on purpose every evening that we didn't spend together just to say hi. (Ah, those were the days...) I tried to sound happy, but I sucked at faking it and when he asked what was wrong, boy did I tell him!
About an hour later there was a knock at my door. Looking through the peep hole I saw nothing but Douglas Fir green. That was the moment I knew I was falling in love. Craig and his cousin Barry went out and found me the perfect Christmas tree. Not too tall, not too short. Not too fat, and not too skinny. They even thought to bring along another tree stand.
We moved the little white tree to the boys bedroom, they were little enough to love it & I didn't want to hurt my grandmothers feelings either.
And then...we made room for the one he brought me in the living room.
And then...the day after Christmas, I made room for Craig to move in.
Senin, 30 November 2009
Selasa, 24 November 2009
Home...from Home?
Well I am back...just not really back in action yet. I'm still adjusting my saddle.
My trip home was not the best. Despite the circumstances under which I was returning, I was still eager to get there and offer support and love. In the end, I was never so happy to land in VA and run (not walk) into my husbands arms for one of those dramatic, movie-esque embraces.
To sum it up, my grandmother is doing okay. Not good or great, but better, and lucky to be alive and breathing on her own. She will remain in the hospital awhile, regaining strength with the help of physical therapists and learning how to care for her new colostomy bag.
My great-grandmother, Bobby, is doing better than most 93 year olds...and yet I have to report that her age has finally caught up to her and she is acting it. I believe an assisted living home is in her future. Normally, the mere thought of that would sky-rocket me into a whirlwind of denial, claiming she wouldn't live an hour tucked away somewhere like that. But the truth is, she needs and deserves the 24 hour care that is offered. The only place that we would consider is a place I used to work - it's wonderful, impeccable in cleanliness and support staff. Many of the folks working there, from housekeepers to Director of Nursing to medical records, have family members there - so the cliche for them is no cliche at all. They really do treat residents like their own family. I'm more comfortable knowing she would be in a place where she is never alone, where she won't be put down or expected to "carry her weight"....I hope to see her go to live there after the holidays.
The above crap stems my grandfather. He is a man who has known Bobby since he was 12 years old, long before he married my grandmother (Bobby's daughter). In his emotional state of dealing with all that has happened with Gran, he has become a tyrant at home. My mom says to cut him slack, he is running on E with having to work to maintain his own health benefits, spend time at the hospital, and take care of household chores. BUT THAT WAS WHY I WAS THERE! Hello! And his love for Granny should by no means be his excuse for mistreating others.
He yelled at Bobby for changing the heater setting. I get the frustration of the house being overly warm (downright hot) and the power bill being excessively high, but you EXPLAIN. You don't jump all over someone when they aren't expecting it - most especially when they are ninety-freaking-three years of age. He got onto her about me doing her laundry and fixing her food. He asked her what she was going to do when I went home, that she better get herself up and about because his priority is Gran, who will not be able to come home and do all those things for her own self, much less anyone else.
WTF right???
So I contacted a social worker from the department of aging, she came out to help put things into place to make life easier. Like someone to grocery shop, help with bathing (she doesn't need that, but there could come a time), general household stuff - just until the time comes that Bobby needs to enter assisted living.
Gramps doesn't like the "charity" of it all. He's being an ass. But its not FOR him, and he needs to realize that. And it's not charity, services require payment.
As we entered the hospital parking garage one day, my grandfather joked with the parking attendant "Hey, can I get a discount since I'm a regular?" (he can be nice as pie to everyone else) and it turned out that yes, he could. After 2 weeks of visiting an immediate family member who is in the hospital, they give out free parking passes. The guy tells us to stop back by the booth on the way out & he would have the form for us to fill out & give Gramps his pass. This saves $3 for each time he goes - which is sometimes more than once a day. It can add up. As we are leaving, he damn near puts pedal to the medal as we speed up the ramp to exit the garage and I was all "Um, Gramps? We were supposed to stop for the parking pass....." - to which he says:
"I don't need no G*ddamned charity, I can pay to park."
And he didn't say it with pride, he said it with disgust. Like a jerk.
I left Saturday morning, a friend picked me up and I spent the night at her house so she could take me to the airport an hour away at 4 am, but before I could escape, he rattled my cage one last time.
He stops in the hallway outside "my room" and starts in..."you know, I know you think I'm an ass for talking (talking?! HA! its called yelling bucko! anyways...) to Bobby the way I do, but I really don't care. You don't live here, you don't know. You say you would take her to Virginia if you could, but even if you did she doesn't have 17 years left to live so you will never have to deal with what Gran and I have...." then some more blah blah blah about his only concern being my grandmother and everyone else can hop on a rolling donut.
Thanks Grandpa. That you SO effing much. I'm ever so glad I could hop a flight at your request to come here, 3000 miles away from my husband and children and job where I am not getting paid for the time off right before the holiday season, and try to help even though it was just to play mediator between you and your mother in law of 58 years. (SCORE: Run On Sentence!)
Does Hallmark make a thank you card for THIS occasion??
Let me just say - and I reminded him of this too - that Bobby did not ask, want to, or need to move in with them 17 years ago. They pushed her to do so and she has hated it ever since. Why? Because Granny has to have her house JUST SO...which means Bobby had to get rid of all her stuff that wouldn't fit into her bedroom and bathroom. Shortly after, Gran had a stroke and Bobby took care of her until she regained her abilities again and did so with love & understanding - while Gramps continued to drive long haul as a truck driver back then. So yeah, it has mostly been Bobby taking care of them, NOT the other way around.
And my mom is another story...
She spent 10+ years in Alaska and has recently returned to California to be closer to them now that I am across the country. She still made sure she has a 4 hour buffer zone tho. I have seen my mom one time in five years - and that was when we went up to visit her while she was in DC for the weekend. Do you think she made the 4 hour drive up while I was there? Nope. She took a break and stayed home. Apparently, I do not rate high enough on her richter scale.
Sorry for the pity party mix of emotions. I am glad, mad, and sad all at the same time.
Glad I went to and tried my best.
Mad that it wasn't appreciated.
Sad that I wasn't able to reach out to anyone else while there.
The friend that picked me up, I never saw her again all week. The friend that took me there I got to spend an evening with. Other than that - no one. I didn't have a vehicle to use. I didn't feel right leaving Bobby when I was supposed to be there for her.
In the end...I never even made it to my daughters grave. That's what truly breaks my heart, made me cry all the way home.
I have vowed to never return to California again without my husband. I do not have what it takes to go home alone anymore.
I am a wife, a mother, a friend, and I have a life here. It may not be recognized by my family, but I do.
And I refuse to compromise it again.
My trip home was not the best. Despite the circumstances under which I was returning, I was still eager to get there and offer support and love. In the end, I was never so happy to land in VA and run (not walk) into my husbands arms for one of those dramatic, movie-esque embraces.
To sum it up, my grandmother is doing okay. Not good or great, but better, and lucky to be alive and breathing on her own. She will remain in the hospital awhile, regaining strength with the help of physical therapists and learning how to care for her new colostomy bag.
My great-grandmother, Bobby, is doing better than most 93 year olds...and yet I have to report that her age has finally caught up to her and she is acting it. I believe an assisted living home is in her future. Normally, the mere thought of that would sky-rocket me into a whirlwind of denial, claiming she wouldn't live an hour tucked away somewhere like that. But the truth is, she needs and deserves the 24 hour care that is offered. The only place that we would consider is a place I used to work - it's wonderful, impeccable in cleanliness and support staff. Many of the folks working there, from housekeepers to Director of Nursing to medical records, have family members there - so the cliche for them is no cliche at all. They really do treat residents like their own family. I'm more comfortable knowing she would be in a place where she is never alone, where she won't be put down or expected to "carry her weight"....I hope to see her go to live there after the holidays.
The above crap stems my grandfather. He is a man who has known Bobby since he was 12 years old, long before he married my grandmother (Bobby's daughter). In his emotional state of dealing with all that has happened with Gran, he has become a tyrant at home. My mom says to cut him slack, he is running on E with having to work to maintain his own health benefits, spend time at the hospital, and take care of household chores. BUT THAT WAS WHY I WAS THERE! Hello! And his love for Granny should by no means be his excuse for mistreating others.
He yelled at Bobby for changing the heater setting. I get the frustration of the house being overly warm (downright hot) and the power bill being excessively high, but you EXPLAIN. You don't jump all over someone when they aren't expecting it - most especially when they are ninety-freaking-three years of age. He got onto her about me doing her laundry and fixing her food. He asked her what she was going to do when I went home, that she better get herself up and about because his priority is Gran, who will not be able to come home and do all those things for her own self, much less anyone else.
WTF right???
So I contacted a social worker from the department of aging, she came out to help put things into place to make life easier. Like someone to grocery shop, help with bathing (she doesn't need that, but there could come a time), general household stuff - just until the time comes that Bobby needs to enter assisted living.
Gramps doesn't like the "charity" of it all. He's being an ass. But its not FOR him, and he needs to realize that. And it's not charity, services require payment.
As we entered the hospital parking garage one day, my grandfather joked with the parking attendant "Hey, can I get a discount since I'm a regular?" (he can be nice as pie to everyone else) and it turned out that yes, he could. After 2 weeks of visiting an immediate family member who is in the hospital, they give out free parking passes. The guy tells us to stop back by the booth on the way out & he would have the form for us to fill out & give Gramps his pass. This saves $3 for each time he goes - which is sometimes more than once a day. It can add up. As we are leaving, he damn near puts pedal to the medal as we speed up the ramp to exit the garage and I was all "Um, Gramps? We were supposed to stop for the parking pass....." - to which he says:
"I don't need no G*ddamned charity, I can pay to park."
And he didn't say it with pride, he said it with disgust. Like a jerk.
I left Saturday morning, a friend picked me up and I spent the night at her house so she could take me to the airport an hour away at 4 am, but before I could escape, he rattled my cage one last time.
He stops in the hallway outside "my room" and starts in..."you know, I know you think I'm an ass for talking (talking?! HA! its called yelling bucko! anyways...) to Bobby the way I do, but I really don't care. You don't live here, you don't know. You say you would take her to Virginia if you could, but even if you did she doesn't have 17 years left to live so you will never have to deal with what Gran and I have...." then some more blah blah blah about his only concern being my grandmother and everyone else can hop on a rolling donut.
Thanks Grandpa. That you SO effing much. I'm ever so glad I could hop a flight at your request to come here, 3000 miles away from my husband and children and job where I am not getting paid for the time off right before the holiday season, and try to help even though it was just to play mediator between you and your mother in law of 58 years. (SCORE: Run On Sentence!)
Does Hallmark make a thank you card for THIS occasion??
Let me just say - and I reminded him of this too - that Bobby did not ask, want to, or need to move in with them 17 years ago. They pushed her to do so and she has hated it ever since. Why? Because Granny has to have her house JUST SO...which means Bobby had to get rid of all her stuff that wouldn't fit into her bedroom and bathroom. Shortly after, Gran had a stroke and Bobby took care of her until she regained her abilities again and did so with love & understanding - while Gramps continued to drive long haul as a truck driver back then. So yeah, it has mostly been Bobby taking care of them, NOT the other way around.
And my mom is another story...
She spent 10+ years in Alaska and has recently returned to California to be closer to them now that I am across the country. She still made sure she has a 4 hour buffer zone tho. I have seen my mom one time in five years - and that was when we went up to visit her while she was in DC for the weekend. Do you think she made the 4 hour drive up while I was there? Nope. She took a break and stayed home. Apparently, I do not rate high enough on her richter scale.
Sorry for the pity party mix of emotions. I am glad, mad, and sad all at the same time.
Glad I went to and tried my best.
Mad that it wasn't appreciated.
Sad that I wasn't able to reach out to anyone else while there.
The friend that picked me up, I never saw her again all week. The friend that took me there I got to spend an evening with. Other than that - no one. I didn't have a vehicle to use. I didn't feel right leaving Bobby when I was supposed to be there for her.
In the end...I never even made it to my daughters grave. That's what truly breaks my heart, made me cry all the way home.
I have vowed to never return to California again without my husband. I do not have what it takes to go home alone anymore.
I am a wife, a mother, a friend, and I have a life here. It may not be recognized by my family, but I do.
And I refuse to compromise it again.
Senin, 09 November 2009
Heading Home...
*
Heading Home is always sort of bittersweet, and this time is no different. It's not under the best of circumstances (Gran is not doing well), but it's not under the worst either (she's still fighting the good fight).
I spoke to my Gramps last night and he asked me to come. This very simple request is one of the most moving things I have ever been asked. Gramps doesn't ask for anything, he believes in giving people wings and then stepping back as they fly on their own in whatever direction they choose. He doesn't believe in holding people down, rooting them to an uncomfortable place. He was the ONLY one in support of our move to Virginia four years ago. He also believes in digging your heels in, reaching down into your gut, and doing what needs to be done no matter how hard - and not complaining about it. And now he has asked for me. For my help. Old dogs do change.
For the first time, I will be returning home more than a daughter and a granddaughter. For the first time, I will be returning home as someone who is needed.
It feels good and it makes me sad....because the last time I took this role on was when my father was dying of cancer. I was the one he wanted, asked for, relied upon, needed. It felt good to know that he was leaving this life knowing I was right there....just like he was when I came into it.
My plane leaves Sunday. Right now that seems forever away but I know time will begin to slip away as I get busy making sure the cupboards are stocked, the fridge is full, and a menu plan is in place. Sure, I've got a husband that can cook and an 18 year old who is level headed and a 15 year old who will totally look after the 9 year old. But they are all male - dain bramage sets in when it comes to the running of a household. If I don't give them idea's as to what to do with the food, they will eat it all in no particular order, in the first 3 days.
My work is cut out for me.
From G-Bunny's™ trip this past summer to visit the G-Parents...
Heading Home is always sort of bittersweet, and this time is no different. It's not under the best of circumstances (Gran is not doing well), but it's not under the worst either (she's still fighting the good fight).
I spoke to my Gramps last night and he asked me to come. This very simple request is one of the most moving things I have ever been asked. Gramps doesn't ask for anything, he believes in giving people wings and then stepping back as they fly on their own in whatever direction they choose. He doesn't believe in holding people down, rooting them to an uncomfortable place. He was the ONLY one in support of our move to Virginia four years ago. He also believes in digging your heels in, reaching down into your gut, and doing what needs to be done no matter how hard - and not complaining about it. And now he has asked for me. For my help. Old dogs do change.
For the first time, I will be returning home more than a daughter and a granddaughter. For the first time, I will be returning home as someone who is needed.
It feels good and it makes me sad....because the last time I took this role on was when my father was dying of cancer. I was the one he wanted, asked for, relied upon, needed. It felt good to know that he was leaving this life knowing I was right there....just like he was when I came into it.
My plane leaves Sunday. Right now that seems forever away but I know time will begin to slip away as I get busy making sure the cupboards are stocked, the fridge is full, and a menu plan is in place. Sure, I've got a husband that can cook and an 18 year old who is level headed and a 15 year old who will totally look after the 9 year old. But they are all male - dain bramage sets in when it comes to the running of a household. If I don't give them idea's as to what to do with the food, they will eat it all in no particular order, in the first 3 days.
My work is cut out for me.
From G-Bunny's™ trip this past summer to visit the G-Parents...
Below is about 10 years ago...
Minggu, 08 November 2009
Emotional Wreck
My heart and my head are all jumbled up right now. My other grandmother, Mary, who is my mom's mom - and the daughter of Bobby who I have talked about before - is not doing so well. She had surgery last Wednesday to remove a portion of her colon that was all twisted up. She seemed to be doing well in the couple of days following, but something happened late Friday night/wee hours Saturday morning that had them rushing her back into surgery to remove her entire colon. She is back in ICU "holding her own" as they say. My mom is frantic because my grandpa is frantic. Last month my grandparents celebrated 58 years of marriage, and they have known each other since they were 11 and 13 - an entire lifetime. My mom and my grandpa are totally father/daughter - they are not people who get frantic or break down or get emotionally distraught even in the midst of devastating news. They are not emotionless or cold, they are just quietly stoic people I guess. Just not when it comes to Gran....who can blame them?
So I am sitting here 3000 miles "from sea to shining sea" away from them...waiting for news. And praying.
In totally unrelated news....I followed this link on the email from Michaels Arts & Crafts and discovered Vanna is at it again! She's having her 2nd annual contest for crocheters and knitters. Anyone in the mood to win a $1000 bucks worth of yarn?
So I am sitting here 3000 miles "from sea to shining sea" away from them...waiting for news. And praying.
*****
In totally unrelated news....I followed this link on the email from Michaels Arts & Crafts and discovered Vanna is at it again! She's having her 2nd annual contest for crocheters and knitters. Anyone in the mood to win a $1000 bucks worth of yarn?
Selasa, 03 November 2009
CUT. IT. OUT.
No, seriously. I would never joke about something that can cost upwards of FORTY BUCKS.
Scissors are no laughing matter to crafty people. I have scrapbooking scissors, they're ok. I have a pendant yarn cutter, it's pretty nifty. But neither offer me the cutting power I so desire.
I have never really bought anything more than the generic blue-handled variety pack and they get used by everyone for everything. I do generally try to keep one pair for just me, but that never lasts. Once I had a pair of those teeny tiny embroidery kind that look like an elongated stork? Yeah, my husband promptly turned them into nose hair clippers. Something about the long slender tips getting the job done. Ew.
Moving on...
I need a good, sturdy, sharp pair for cutting yarn, ribbon, and fabric.
A pair that screams "Behold! Mom's Sacred Scissors! Toucheth Not!"...or ye shall be doomed to folding laundry for all of your days...
This will cost me, and I am prepared for that, but before I do I just would like a little guidance from my bloggy pals. So whatch'ya got for me??
Senin, 02 November 2009
Move over Hugh Jackman...
...cuz...
THERE'S A NEW WOLVERINE IN TOWN!
THERE'S A NEW WOLVERINE IN TOWN!
After years and years of dressing kids for Halloween, this year I just had one. My little guy Max. Saturday night was so bittersweet...as I smeared eye shadow into makeshift sideburns on his cute little face, I couldn't help thinking back over all the various costumes my three sons have donned throughout the years. Some over the top, some not, some store bought & some? Down righ bada$$ creations.
This year Max's outfit was simple, with Wolverine it's all about the claw anyways. And the hair - gelled, ratted, & sprayed to comic book hero perfection. Oh and the "slice n' dice" expressions - which my boy totally owns!
Isn't he cute???
Ooops ~ Not him!
I meant this guy...
Hey, were'd he come from again?
Ok, clearly Hugh is getting a little jealous of Max. Sheesh!
Show em' who's boss baby boy!
Langganan:
Postingan (Atom)