I would like to brag on my children today. They are home from school this week because of Thanksgiving and for conferences. I have a babysitter with them, so that makes a big difference. I fear if I had them at home alone, the house would not be standing when I get home. While I want them to enjoy their vacation and relax, I do want them to do a little work and I want to begin to instill some of my expectations in them about the state of cleanliness I can live with. So, I left them with some cleaning assignments each day.
On Monday, I asked that the living room and dining room be picked up. I was happy to come home and find that it was done. Yea!
On Tuesday, I asked that they pick up the 2nd floor and clean their rooms. The babysitter said, when I got home, “Don’t you want to show your mom how clean your rooms are?”
I knew then that this was going to be good! So, I was preparing my speech of praise and adoration. I was impressed! And I gushed all over my kids about how nice it all looked and how proud I was of them.
Today, there is really nothing left I want them to do except to maintain what they have already done. And the nice thing is that all I have to do is vacuum and laundry. What a treat!
School conferences went well. I told my daughter that hers was very boring because each of her teachers said the same thing:
“She’s such a sweet girl…blah blah blah…”
“She’s doing really well…blah blah blah…”
“She needs to speak up a little more in class.”
“If I could have more kids like her…”
Very boring. And her conferences were very quick. By the time I got to the end of my description of her conferences, she was giggling so I knew she got that I was teasing her and then I told her that I was really proud of her because she had struggled so much at the beginning but she has risen up to the challenge! And I love to hear that she is a sweet girl. One teacher even told me that if I wanted to trade her for her two boys, she was willing to trade.
My boys are doing well too. With a couple of exceptions. Peanut is struggling with paying attention and focusing. We are watching him for more signs of improvement and possibly a need for an ADHD evaluation. I am suspecting he is. So, I am mentally preparing for it.
PH writes his letters from the bottom to the top. So, his teacher and I will be helping him to retrain his brain in how to form his letters from the top down. I talked to him about it last night and he is resistant. But if he continues in this way, he will have great difficulty with cursive writing. He also needs to work on getting his homework turned in.
BB is going to be doing some pre-Algebra. Seriously? Wow. I know he needs a challenge. He needs to work on organization and not losing papers or willfully taking important papers/homework out of his backpack. His teacher has noted that he loves to draw comic books and his desk is full of them. I told her that my house is plastered with his comics too. Maybe this is a direction his life will take.
I’m so proud of my kids. I love them.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Another bad day
I broke a record today and I am not happy about it. I had a 13 or 14 year record for no traffic violations…and this does not include warnings. I have to restart the clock because I got pulled over for speeding not 1 mile from home.
I was distracted and lost in thought and truly did not pay attention until I saw the cop sitting on the side of the road with his radar gun aimed right at me. Oh Snap. He pulled out and followed me a ways and I thought maybe he would let me go but then he turned his lights on and I pulled over.
I have learned it is best to be honest and own up to my mistakes. I started pulling out my license and my registration and had it ready for him by the time he got to my window. Somehow, I got the feeling that he was not impressed by my preparation nor by my confession that I realized I had been going too fast in the 30mph zone.
He went back to his car and the tears just started flowing. I am already having an emotional week. I can not explain why. I just have a lot of things hitting me all at once and my emotions feel like they are hovering just below the surface, ready to break at the slightest disturbance. I looked up to wipe away the tears and saw another police car pull behind me with its lights on and I started to panic. I had visions of being arrested but I could not for the life of me figure out what it would be for. But the officer just seemed to be chatting with the one in the car right behind me.
When the officer returned to my window, he told me that he had too concerns: 1) my speed which was 15 mph over the posted and 2) expired tabs. I told him that I did not know my tabs were expired and that I had only recently bought the car. He explained that I could call the number on the back and get a court date and possibly get the tab citation dismissed if I could prove that it was a dealer error.
I drove away, sobbing and stressing about the money this was going cost, money I do not have. I looked up the citation numbers on the website but can not make heads or tails of the fee matrix and when I called the number on the back, the computer voice told me I have to wait 10 days for my citation to be in the system before I can find out what my ticket is going to cost me. So, I called the DMV and found out that my tabs will cost $110 and I missed the mailing because of when I bought my car and when the mailing goes out for June tabs. I called the car dealer and was told that I should have been offered to have my tabs added to my purchase at the signing. I told her that I was not offered this and would have said yes and that I had now been issued a citation.
She told me to fax a copy of my ticket and the cost to her and she will discuss it with her boss and see about paying for the cost of that part of my ticket because that part was an error on their end. Whew!
I still have to wait 10 days. I still have to pay $110 to get new tabs. And I broke my record. I am not happy. Not happy at all.
I was distracted and lost in thought and truly did not pay attention until I saw the cop sitting on the side of the road with his radar gun aimed right at me. Oh Snap. He pulled out and followed me a ways and I thought maybe he would let me go but then he turned his lights on and I pulled over.
I have learned it is best to be honest and own up to my mistakes. I started pulling out my license and my registration and had it ready for him by the time he got to my window. Somehow, I got the feeling that he was not impressed by my preparation nor by my confession that I realized I had been going too fast in the 30mph zone.
He went back to his car and the tears just started flowing. I am already having an emotional week. I can not explain why. I just have a lot of things hitting me all at once and my emotions feel like they are hovering just below the surface, ready to break at the slightest disturbance. I looked up to wipe away the tears and saw another police car pull behind me with its lights on and I started to panic. I had visions of being arrested but I could not for the life of me figure out what it would be for. But the officer just seemed to be chatting with the one in the car right behind me.
When the officer returned to my window, he told me that he had too concerns: 1) my speed which was 15 mph over the posted and 2) expired tabs. I told him that I did not know my tabs were expired and that I had only recently bought the car. He explained that I could call the number on the back and get a court date and possibly get the tab citation dismissed if I could prove that it was a dealer error.
I drove away, sobbing and stressing about the money this was going cost, money I do not have. I looked up the citation numbers on the website but can not make heads or tails of the fee matrix and when I called the number on the back, the computer voice told me I have to wait 10 days for my citation to be in the system before I can find out what my ticket is going to cost me. So, I called the DMV and found out that my tabs will cost $110 and I missed the mailing because of when I bought my car and when the mailing goes out for June tabs. I called the car dealer and was told that I should have been offered to have my tabs added to my purchase at the signing. I told her that I was not offered this and would have said yes and that I had now been issued a citation.
She told me to fax a copy of my ticket and the cost to her and she will discuss it with her boss and see about paying for the cost of that part of my ticket because that part was an error on their end. Whew!
I still have to wait 10 days. I still have to pay $110 to get new tabs. And I broke my record. I am not happy. Not happy at all.
Monday, November 24, 2008
I’m having One Of Those Days.
My kids have the week off and the babysitter is coming to my house. In a flurry of excitement over not having to get up at 5:30am, I set my alarm for 6:30am last night (Truth be told that I seldom actually GET UP at 5:30…but I make the attempt every day). However, I apparently neglected to turn on my alarm and woke up mere minutes before the sitter arrived.
So, no shower…a quick up-do of the hair and brushing of teeth. I was ready in less than 15 minutes. I realized on my way to work, that the best time to do the middle school conferences was going to be NOW on the way to work rather than later on the way home from work. So, I called and left my boss a voicemail to tell her I would be late.
When I got to work, I remembered that it is Monday which means that it is also Jury Duty day at the county building and I can’t park in my usual parking lot and must park over in Timbuktu aka Law Enforcement Center lot. While putting away my car keys, I was digging for my work badge and realized that I did not have it. RATS!
This means a LONG walk around the building because I can’t use the employee entrance because I don’t have my magnetic badge. I thought I was saved for a minute when someone from my office came alongside me but apparently she walks faster than me or she was not trying to maneuver uneven sidewalk in 2 inch heeled boots and the door shut before I got there.
It was a chilly, rocky walk around the building. And the receptionists teased me and asked me to bribe them with chocolate before buzzing me into my office area. So, instead of being a mere 45 minutes late, I was an hour late.
Fortunately, I had an appointment in Forest Lake and was able to drive past my house and pick up my badge so that I would not have to stuff my pockets with chocolate or race someone to the door in order to get back in the building.
My luck ran out there because after heading back to my office, I picked up lunch and also some medications for a client. While trying to carry my drink, my purse, 4 bags of meds and my food bag, I got a very big paper cut on my finger and started to bleed all over one of the bags of medicine. And I still had a LONG walk to my office…slightly shorter because I could use the employee entrance.
When I sat down at my desk to eat my hasty lunch, I was dismayed because I found my baked potato to be very disappointing. It’s just one of those days.
So, no shower…a quick up-do of the hair and brushing of teeth. I was ready in less than 15 minutes. I realized on my way to work, that the best time to do the middle school conferences was going to be NOW on the way to work rather than later on the way home from work. So, I called and left my boss a voicemail to tell her I would be late.
When I got to work, I remembered that it is Monday which means that it is also Jury Duty day at the county building and I can’t park in my usual parking lot and must park over in Timbuktu aka Law Enforcement Center lot. While putting away my car keys, I was digging for my work badge and realized that I did not have it. RATS!
This means a LONG walk around the building because I can’t use the employee entrance because I don’t have my magnetic badge. I thought I was saved for a minute when someone from my office came alongside me but apparently she walks faster than me or she was not trying to maneuver uneven sidewalk in 2 inch heeled boots and the door shut before I got there.
It was a chilly, rocky walk around the building. And the receptionists teased me and asked me to bribe them with chocolate before buzzing me into my office area. So, instead of being a mere 45 minutes late, I was an hour late.
Fortunately, I had an appointment in Forest Lake and was able to drive past my house and pick up my badge so that I would not have to stuff my pockets with chocolate or race someone to the door in order to get back in the building.
My luck ran out there because after heading back to my office, I picked up lunch and also some medications for a client. While trying to carry my drink, my purse, 4 bags of meds and my food bag, I got a very big paper cut on my finger and started to bleed all over one of the bags of medicine. And I still had a LONG walk to my office…slightly shorter because I could use the employee entrance.
When I sat down at my desk to eat my hasty lunch, I was dismayed because I found my baked potato to be very disappointing. It’s just one of those days.
Friday, November 21, 2008
A Lesson learned
I am a pretty easy going person. I can take a joke and I don’t get offended easily. I believe this comes from some hard years of being teased rather mercilessly when I was in junior high. I had to figure out how to toughen up and quit being so sensitive. I also had to develop a better sense of humor. It is a good thing to have thick skin.
Sometimes, my skin is a little too thick and I do not recognize things I should take offense to until it is too late. This results in a delayed reaction and I find myself stewing about things that have penetrated the elephant skin and caused me pain.
One of my weakest areas, a prime target for attack, is in the area of my skill level, education, and abilities. I had almost a decade of abuse in a marriage where I was beaten down and told either outright or more subtly that I was not smart, not capable, worthless and could never be anything except what my husband would allow me to be and without him, I was nothing. I have worked very hard and made a lot of sacrifices to get myself past that into the place I am now, feeling capable and confident and smart.
So, when I get attacked in that area, it hurts and my hackles get raised. I am reminded of the female lead in the movie Dances with Wolves… Stands With Fists. I like her name. It fits how I feel in these types of circumstances.
At work the other day, a Social Work intern, verbally attacked my credentials, my intelligence and my education. At first, I thought he was joking, sort of work-related banter. Another co-worker came to my cube to ask me a question about why his arm still hurt when he got his flu shot several weeks ago. I started discussing a few things about what it could be. The intern then chimes in,
“Don’t ask her medical questions. She does not know what she’s talking about. She’s just making stuff up.”
We chuckled. And he continued.
“She’s just a psych nurse and they only get one medical course. I know because I used to date a psych nurse and when I asked her questions about medical stuff she would tell me she didn’t know anything about medical stuff.”
I blew it off. However, at lunch, he brought it up again and started saying the same sort of things. One of my other co-workers looked over at him and then scrunched up her face in disgust. She made a comment about how he really is a jerk. A different coworker then said, “I believe that he has now insulted every one of us. He is not making any friends.”
The intern’s supervisor then said to him, in front of all of us at the table, “Tulip has a lot of education beyond psych nursing. She is also a public health nurse. She really knows a lot.”
I thanked him for coming to my defense. And it was then that it dawned on me that the intern was not really joking so much as he was stating something he really believed about nurses and he was putting me down.
Stands With Fists stood up and started getting really mad. I wrote an email of thanks to the intern’s supervisor and thanked him again for standing up for me and then I emailed my sister’s who offered me support and other ideas about how to defend my own honor. While they were amusing, they were not professional but they did make me feel better.
Would it be professional to decorate his cube in a swag of my business cards with all of my credentials highlighted? Maybe that would be a bit over the top. Perhaps I could toss out into a conversation the fact that I hold not just one Bachelor’s degree but two? Or is that too much?
Perhaps. But the thought of rubbing his nose in it did help me to calm myself down and feel a little better.
And yet I know that I would never do it for several reasons. I am a Christian and it would be very unkind to do so, no matter how much hurt I felt and how fun it would be for the moment. Would it really serve the higher purpose of displaying Christ to others? Definitely not.
On Wednesday nights, I am a small group leader for 3rd grade girls. One of the lessons I recently taught them was about pride and boasting. I was telling them that we are not to boast about our accomplishments because that is pride. However, it is OK to boast about other people. And this did happen in this case with the intern. My coworker told the intern what my credentials were. I did not have to say anything.
When I thought about it like that. I felt a little ashamed at my plans for revenge. But on the other hand, I have a good example to share with my 3rd graders. Live a lesson and then teach it. Take the bad and make it good.
Sometimes, my skin is a little too thick and I do not recognize things I should take offense to until it is too late. This results in a delayed reaction and I find myself stewing about things that have penetrated the elephant skin and caused me pain.
One of my weakest areas, a prime target for attack, is in the area of my skill level, education, and abilities. I had almost a decade of abuse in a marriage where I was beaten down and told either outright or more subtly that I was not smart, not capable, worthless and could never be anything except what my husband would allow me to be and without him, I was nothing. I have worked very hard and made a lot of sacrifices to get myself past that into the place I am now, feeling capable and confident and smart.
So, when I get attacked in that area, it hurts and my hackles get raised. I am reminded of the female lead in the movie Dances with Wolves… Stands With Fists. I like her name. It fits how I feel in these types of circumstances.
At work the other day, a Social Work intern, verbally attacked my credentials, my intelligence and my education. At first, I thought he was joking, sort of work-related banter. Another co-worker came to my cube to ask me a question about why his arm still hurt when he got his flu shot several weeks ago. I started discussing a few things about what it could be. The intern then chimes in,
“Don’t ask her medical questions. She does not know what she’s talking about. She’s just making stuff up.”
We chuckled. And he continued.
“She’s just a psych nurse and they only get one medical course. I know because I used to date a psych nurse and when I asked her questions about medical stuff she would tell me she didn’t know anything about medical stuff.”
I blew it off. However, at lunch, he brought it up again and started saying the same sort of things. One of my other co-workers looked over at him and then scrunched up her face in disgust. She made a comment about how he really is a jerk. A different coworker then said, “I believe that he has now insulted every one of us. He is not making any friends.”
The intern’s supervisor then said to him, in front of all of us at the table, “Tulip has a lot of education beyond psych nursing. She is also a public health nurse. She really knows a lot.”
I thanked him for coming to my defense. And it was then that it dawned on me that the intern was not really joking so much as he was stating something he really believed about nurses and he was putting me down.
Stands With Fists stood up and started getting really mad. I wrote an email of thanks to the intern’s supervisor and thanked him again for standing up for me and then I emailed my sister’s who offered me support and other ideas about how to defend my own honor. While they were amusing, they were not professional but they did make me feel better.
Would it be professional to decorate his cube in a swag of my business cards with all of my credentials highlighted? Maybe that would be a bit over the top. Perhaps I could toss out into a conversation the fact that I hold not just one Bachelor’s degree but two? Or is that too much?
Perhaps. But the thought of rubbing his nose in it did help me to calm myself down and feel a little better.
And yet I know that I would never do it for several reasons. I am a Christian and it would be very unkind to do so, no matter how much hurt I felt and how fun it would be for the moment. Would it really serve the higher purpose of displaying Christ to others? Definitely not.
On Wednesday nights, I am a small group leader for 3rd grade girls. One of the lessons I recently taught them was about pride and boasting. I was telling them that we are not to boast about our accomplishments because that is pride. However, it is OK to boast about other people. And this did happen in this case with the intern. My coworker told the intern what my credentials were. I did not have to say anything.
When I thought about it like that. I felt a little ashamed at my plans for revenge. But on the other hand, I have a good example to share with my 3rd graders. Live a lesson and then teach it. Take the bad and make it good.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Extremes
She is almost 12. She is wearing her winter coat, fully zipped, velcroed across her face with ear muffs, gloves AND a scarf. It’s 34’ outside but there is no way one lick of cold air is going to touch her skin.
He is 7 ½ years old. He reluctantly puts socks on. He wears his slip on shoes with the heels folded down. IF he is wearing his coat, it’s hanging off his shoulder and it’s never zipped. This morning, he jumped in the van without a coat, claiming it was in the van waiting for him. It’s not the first time that has happened.
It’s the same day and the same temperature. I don’t know what the difference is. Is it a difference in tolerance to cold? Is it maturity? Is it a boy/girl thing?
Kids are just weird.
He is 7 ½ years old. He reluctantly puts socks on. He wears his slip on shoes with the heels folded down. IF he is wearing his coat, it’s hanging off his shoulder and it’s never zipped. This morning, he jumped in the van without a coat, claiming it was in the van waiting for him. It’s not the first time that has happened.
It’s the same day and the same temperature. I don’t know what the difference is. Is it a difference in tolerance to cold? Is it maturity? Is it a boy/girl thing?
Kids are just weird.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tuesday
It was bound to happen sooner or later. The day it will happen is Thursday November 20, 2008. I will be initiated into the club of Sports Mom. My oldest son will start his very first basketball practice. He is elated. So elated, he practically floated on air and sang the words to his siblings. He has been waiting a very long time for this day.
I hope, hope, hope that he will not be disappointed. And I really hope that he has a lot of fun.
I am glad that the coach is a father of one of his teammates, but I did not catch the name because I was still catching my breath when I heard the words “basketball”, “first practice”, “Thursday” and “$50”. I had kinda hoped, when I got the letter saying that there were going to be 13 kids who could not be placed on a team if someone did not step up an volunteer to coach, that there would be no basketball this year.
It’s purely selfish. I will admit that. I am not ready for to give up precious evenings for practices and Saturdays for games and…gasp…tournaments? It has very little to do with what would be good for my son. Things like sportsmanship, working on a team, practice, focus, concentration, and having fun playing a sport.
Nope. It’s all about me and how it will affect my life.
Shame on me.
It is going to be very hard. It is going to impact my week that is already very tightly scheduled.
Tulip, too bad. Suck it up and deal with it. The smile on that boy’s face. The excitement in his voice when he talked about his first practice. The fact that he was so excited he could hardly sleep. How can you deny him this joy?
It’s not about the money. It’s not about the time. It is about the boy. He needs this. He wants this. So, we will adjust our lives and make it work. And I will be the proudest Basketball Mom on the sidelines, snapping pictures and putting scrapbook pages together in my head the whole time!
I hope, hope, hope that he will not be disappointed. And I really hope that he has a lot of fun.
I am glad that the coach is a father of one of his teammates, but I did not catch the name because I was still catching my breath when I heard the words “basketball”, “first practice”, “Thursday” and “$50”. I had kinda hoped, when I got the letter saying that there were going to be 13 kids who could not be placed on a team if someone did not step up an volunteer to coach, that there would be no basketball this year.
It’s purely selfish. I will admit that. I am not ready for to give up precious evenings for practices and Saturdays for games and…gasp…tournaments? It has very little to do with what would be good for my son. Things like sportsmanship, working on a team, practice, focus, concentration, and having fun playing a sport.
Nope. It’s all about me and how it will affect my life.
Shame on me.
It is going to be very hard. It is going to impact my week that is already very tightly scheduled.
Tulip, too bad. Suck it up and deal with it. The smile on that boy’s face. The excitement in his voice when he talked about his first practice. The fact that he was so excited he could hardly sleep. How can you deny him this joy?
It’s not about the money. It’s not about the time. It is about the boy. He needs this. He wants this. So, we will adjust our lives and make it work. And I will be the proudest Basketball Mom on the sidelines, snapping pictures and putting scrapbook pages together in my head the whole time!
Monday, November 17, 2008
Living with ADHD
Life with an ADHD kid is a challenge for even the most organizationally gifted of mothers. I would never put myself in that category, mind you. I would say that I have some organization skills and a lot of creativity. (Tidiness would NOT be one of them but I am working on it).
The child with ADHD constantly loses things. And often times, he loses the same things several times a day. It is interesting to note that sometimes he will remember leaving it in one place but does not remember that he moved it nor does he remember the new location. It is very frustrating.
This past week, his winter coat went AWOL. It was last seen on his person by Grandma on his way to school. We think. But it was a crazy week because I was at the hospital with his brother and then the temperature got warmer and he did not need it, so I did not worry about it until the temperature dropped again.
At that point, I had to put out an APB on his grey coat, size 10 with the orange, down-filled lining. I searched every place in the house. Every closet. Every nook, cranny, crevice, and cubby. I checked the obvious and the un-obvious. One never knows with the ADHD boy where that coat will land because his attention gets diverted by shiny objects or other things of interest. This would be why I find one shoe on each floor and various items of clothing tossed through out the house. It isn’t merely laziness. It is just the way his brain works. Things drop where he stops.
The APB on the coat extended to school and I enlisted the help of his 4th grade teacher, the lunch room para’s and the ladies who work in the office and the school nurse. It is possible that his classmates may have been helping him search through the lost and found and the coat room after recess. To no avail. I also called Grandpa who reported seeing it with Grandma in the car but then reported no longer seeing it in the car. Grandma stated that she distinctly remembered putting it upon BB’s body and sending him off to school. That was the last time it was seen.
11 days ago.
I was frustrated and bit back the tears. I really did not want to have to buy another winter coat. I had rejoiced in the knowledge that every one, including my daughter (thanks to a co-worker of my sister), had a really nice, warm coat and my only expenditure was going to be for winter boots for my daughter and older two boys. Peanut, being the youngest, will have the luxury of many choices in winter foot wear this year.
Day 12. While in the coatroom at church, I reached for Peanut’s coat and noticed on the rack, a familiar grey and orange coat. My heart rejoiced and I called BB over and wrapped him up in the warmth of his coat. He was significantly less enthusiastic than I was. To him, it’s “just a coat”. To me, it’s the symbol of something greater. It’s a blessing. The AWOL coat has returned home.
My kids would think I was really silly if I killed the fatted calf over a coat. But that is how I felt. I was ready to dance, shout and sing.
Blessings don’t have to be big to be significant. And miracles don’t have to be magical to miraculous. We just have to notice them for what they are and thank the Lord for them when they come. And if we feel like doing a happy dance in the kitchen while making Shepherd’s pie, so be it.
The child with ADHD constantly loses things. And often times, he loses the same things several times a day. It is interesting to note that sometimes he will remember leaving it in one place but does not remember that he moved it nor does he remember the new location. It is very frustrating.
This past week, his winter coat went AWOL. It was last seen on his person by Grandma on his way to school. We think. But it was a crazy week because I was at the hospital with his brother and then the temperature got warmer and he did not need it, so I did not worry about it until the temperature dropped again.
At that point, I had to put out an APB on his grey coat, size 10 with the orange, down-filled lining. I searched every place in the house. Every closet. Every nook, cranny, crevice, and cubby. I checked the obvious and the un-obvious. One never knows with the ADHD boy where that coat will land because his attention gets diverted by shiny objects or other things of interest. This would be why I find one shoe on each floor and various items of clothing tossed through out the house. It isn’t merely laziness. It is just the way his brain works. Things drop where he stops.
The APB on the coat extended to school and I enlisted the help of his 4th grade teacher, the lunch room para’s and the ladies who work in the office and the school nurse. It is possible that his classmates may have been helping him search through the lost and found and the coat room after recess. To no avail. I also called Grandpa who reported seeing it with Grandma in the car but then reported no longer seeing it in the car. Grandma stated that she distinctly remembered putting it upon BB’s body and sending him off to school. That was the last time it was seen.
11 days ago.
I was frustrated and bit back the tears. I really did not want to have to buy another winter coat. I had rejoiced in the knowledge that every one, including my daughter (thanks to a co-worker of my sister), had a really nice, warm coat and my only expenditure was going to be for winter boots for my daughter and older two boys. Peanut, being the youngest, will have the luxury of many choices in winter foot wear this year.
Day 12. While in the coatroom at church, I reached for Peanut’s coat and noticed on the rack, a familiar grey and orange coat. My heart rejoiced and I called BB over and wrapped him up in the warmth of his coat. He was significantly less enthusiastic than I was. To him, it’s “just a coat”. To me, it’s the symbol of something greater. It’s a blessing. The AWOL coat has returned home.
My kids would think I was really silly if I killed the fatted calf over a coat. But that is how I felt. I was ready to dance, shout and sing.
Blessings don’t have to be big to be significant. And miracles don’t have to be magical to miraculous. We just have to notice them for what they are and thank the Lord for them when they come. And if we feel like doing a happy dance in the kitchen while making Shepherd’s pie, so be it.
Friday, November 14, 2008
From the Desk of: Tiger, Your Friendly Family Cat
It has come to my attention that you, the two-legged ones, who share my home have forgotten a few of the basic rules of living with us, the cats. So, I am going to clarify those rules for you:
- We, Tiger and Shadow, expect that there will be food in both of our bowls every morning. We would prefer it to be poured promptly at 5 am. If you are not up at 5 am to do so, then we will begin a game of Chase and Tag-Your-It which will include and not be limited to, running across your bed and possibly your head.
- We do not like doors to be closed. We will scratch at them until you let us in and we don’t care if you are using your version of a litter box. Open the door or we will continue to scratch and yell at you until you do.
- All flat surfaces are our domain. Get over it. This includes the bathroom counter, the kitchen counter, the table and the end tables. It even includes the top of the refridgerator and those cute little shelves you have hanging on the wall. If it’s flat, we will like to rest on it.
- We like to look out the window and smell the fresh air so please open the blinds and crack the window. This may be done shortly after we have our breakfast.
- We also like baskets of clothes (and especially those that just come out of the dryer!) and balled up blankets. Since we are creatures of leisure, it is important that we have a variety of napping locations available at all times. Don’t bother making your bed, Shadow will just crawl up under the covers until she has her nap spot just right.
- We like water. We don’t like to take baths but we like to watch water and we like to drink water. This means that watching you get wet in the shower or the tub is very fascinating but it does not mean we want to pulled in or splashed. It just makes us cranky and likely to find other locations besides that litterbox in the kitchen, if you catch my drift. We like to drink water but can’t fit our head in the glass so, if we find a tasty drink, we will knock it over to increase our access and share with each other and if you don’t want your mail to get wet, then you should not leave it on the table where the water is.
- What I do while lying in the sink is my business. Sometimes, a cat needs a cool, quiet spot. And that is all I am going to say about that.
- You are here for our amusement and pleasure. You will pet us when we want to be pet. We will sit on your lap when it suits us and we want a warm place to nap. Purring is something we do because it feels good to us. It has nothing to do with you, but it if makes you better, fine.
- In conclusion, keep the food dish full, the litter box empty and the windows open and we will be very, very happy. We may even be inclined to snuggle up on your lap and purr.
I’m a Technological Late Bloomer…but I am on the Bandwagon Now!
I used to be afraid of computers. Very afraid. For my high school graduation, I got a typewriter that could store whole documents and print them out later. I was content with that. I did not need anything more than that.
However, when I was entering college, it was 1989 and the Information Age was being born. Computers were becoming more and more important in college life. I had to take a computer class and learn how to use Word Perfect which was heavy on the F-keys. For a techno-phobe like me, I was in a shaky state of panic. I was a good typist. I could type 65 wpm. But throw in things like F3 for print and F5 for align or whatever and I was lost in a haze of confusion. I barely made it out of that class alive.
I vaguely recall something buzzing around campus called “Eeee Mail”. But I did not have a clue. Why would I send my friends a note on the computer when I could call them on the phone or pop over to their room. I had no use for it. The only thing I liked, or found interesting, was that the college created our account name using the first 3 letters of our last name and then the first 3 letters of our first name. So my gang of friends began to call each other by our new acronyms; carbra, carmar, burjen, sanpet, tonder, petton, aleste, popsus.
A few years later, I met a man I would eventually marry. And he was a nerd, a geek, an egghead. He lived and breathed computers. He had since he was in 6th grade. The good thing was that he was a good teacher and showed me how to use his computer and the wonderful things it could do that far surpassed the abilities of my typewriter and I was hooked.
Since he loved to be on the cutting edge, he began to show me things on what he called the “internet”. I had no time for that. It was confusing and I could not figure it out. But he also showed me email. This was a good thing because more and more professors were beginning to use email as part of their class communication.
Since I had transferred schools and was now 150 miles away from my friends at the private college, email become more useful and a faster way to communicate than snail mail! I was catching on.
A few years later, a college graduate and living in St. Louis with my husband, email became my life line. The internet became more user friendly. And I was becoming a full-fledged computer junkie.
I am a late bloomer but I catch on eventually.
It was the same with cell phones. For the longest time, I could not fathom why anyone would want to be available by phone anytime, any place. But when I divorced and was going back to school and had children who were in school or at daycare, the cell phone became the only means for me to be reached in the case of an emergency. And now, it is my only phone. I can’t live without it.
I used to say that I would never give one of my children a cell phone. I should bite my tongue.
I have a daughter who is now in middle school and has activities with school and church. She is also home by herself in the afternoon. Since I decided not to have a home phone, the cell phone for the kids became a necessity. However, I realized there were good things about it. She can take it with her if she goes to a friend’s house or she and her brother’s go to the park to play and I can still get a hold of her or she can get a hold of me.
“But I see no point in texting people. That’s just crazy. Why would you type a note when you could just call them.”
Famous last words again. I’m a texter. I admit it. And I love it. Sometimes, you don’t need to have a long phone conversation with someone. With my daughter, just a quick hello and “Do you have homework?” is all we need.
I may start out reluctant with technology but I eventually cave. It’s just my way.
However, when I was entering college, it was 1989 and the Information Age was being born. Computers were becoming more and more important in college life. I had to take a computer class and learn how to use Word Perfect which was heavy on the F-keys. For a techno-phobe like me, I was in a shaky state of panic. I was a good typist. I could type 65 wpm. But throw in things like F3 for print and F5 for align or whatever and I was lost in a haze of confusion. I barely made it out of that class alive.
I vaguely recall something buzzing around campus called “Eeee Mail”. But I did not have a clue. Why would I send my friends a note on the computer when I could call them on the phone or pop over to their room. I had no use for it. The only thing I liked, or found interesting, was that the college created our account name using the first 3 letters of our last name and then the first 3 letters of our first name. So my gang of friends began to call each other by our new acronyms; carbra, carmar, burjen, sanpet, tonder, petton, aleste, popsus.
A few years later, I met a man I would eventually marry. And he was a nerd, a geek, an egghead. He lived and breathed computers. He had since he was in 6th grade. The good thing was that he was a good teacher and showed me how to use his computer and the wonderful things it could do that far surpassed the abilities of my typewriter and I was hooked.
Since he loved to be on the cutting edge, he began to show me things on what he called the “internet”. I had no time for that. It was confusing and I could not figure it out. But he also showed me email. This was a good thing because more and more professors were beginning to use email as part of their class communication.
Since I had transferred schools and was now 150 miles away from my friends at the private college, email become more useful and a faster way to communicate than snail mail! I was catching on.
A few years later, a college graduate and living in St. Louis with my husband, email became my life line. The internet became more user friendly. And I was becoming a full-fledged computer junkie.
I am a late bloomer but I catch on eventually.
It was the same with cell phones. For the longest time, I could not fathom why anyone would want to be available by phone anytime, any place. But when I divorced and was going back to school and had children who were in school or at daycare, the cell phone became the only means for me to be reached in the case of an emergency. And now, it is my only phone. I can’t live without it.
I used to say that I would never give one of my children a cell phone. I should bite my tongue.
I have a daughter who is now in middle school and has activities with school and church. She is also home by herself in the afternoon. Since I decided not to have a home phone, the cell phone for the kids became a necessity. However, I realized there were good things about it. She can take it with her if she goes to a friend’s house or she and her brother’s go to the park to play and I can still get a hold of her or she can get a hold of me.
“But I see no point in texting people. That’s just crazy. Why would you type a note when you could just call them.”
Famous last words again. I’m a texter. I admit it. And I love it. Sometimes, you don’t need to have a long phone conversation with someone. With my daughter, just a quick hello and “Do you have homework?” is all we need.
I may start out reluctant with technology but I eventually cave. It’s just my way.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Taking Back My House…One Room At A Time
Five people, four of whom are under the age of 12, and two cats living under one roof can create quite a mess. And when the one adult, who is the only one who seems to care about the mess, works 45-50 hours a week plus various evening activities, homework and basic hygiene, it really piles up after a while. And this adult is feeling the stress.
My Mom commented that I should take things one step at a time and declare a moratorium (this is the vocabulary word of the year) on:
a) dishes in the living room and
b) pencils, crayons and other writing implements carelessly strewn about.
So, I bought a pencil cup and put on the kitchen counter. I even artfully arranged pencils in it, in hopes that it would inspire the little people into using it.
Her other piece of advice was to take back one small space at a time. She suggested I clear a perimeter around my bed. Sort of a relaxing, clutter-free Mom-zone. I liked the idea but tackling my bedroom, which I share with my almost 12 year old daughter, felt a little too huge even after considering her idea of taping off my “clean zone” and focusing on that only. I think the problem is that I can still SEE the rest of the mess under my daughter’s lofted bed and the huge pile of unwashed laundry in the closet.
I decided to tackle the garage. Actually, I didn’t plan to clean the garage. It just sort of happened. Then I got on a roll and into the groove and I just kept going until it was done.
This project started like many projects do… in a completely different area. In this case, the front closet. I needed to get to the back of the closet in order to pull out winter coats, hats, mittens and boots. In order to get these things, I needed to pull out my Eliptical machine. And the Eliptical machine is something I plan to post on Craigslist, since I am not using it because:
a) there’s NO ROOM in my townhouse and
b) if I really felt ambitious I could go over to the exercise room and use an elliptical or treadmill there
c) I am not that ambitious.
However, getting the machine out of the closet, while wondering how I ever got it IN the closet, is about the equivalent of a 30 minute cardio workout in itself. But I won’t be doing THAT every day.
So, now that the beast is out of the closet, I dragged it to the kitchen and photographed it so that I can post pictures on my ad. But I can’t leave it in the kitchen, taking up valuable real estate there…I must find another home until I get it posted and sold. Enter the garage!
Whew!
So, in order to make this exercise beast fit into my garage and still be able to drive my van in, I needed to reorganize. I did have the foresight earlier of a possible venture of this nature and I had bought 8 red hooks for hanging bikes from the ceiling. I was kinda sorta sure I could figure out how to get them onto the ceiling and fairly almost certain I could then get the bikes up onto the hooks.
I think.
Maybe.
OK. I was willing to give it a good try before calling a male friend for help.
A few weeks ago, I had bought myself a tool box and a small lock. It was a necessity since my tools seem to grow legs and disappear. I had to purchase a 4th hammer this past weekend. And I still haven’t found my measuring tape. But the tools I do have are now safely locked in their box.
So, I gathered my tools and assessed my project. I looked at the screw ends of these hooks and figured I would need to make a hole before twisting them into the ceiling. Not a bad assessment for a girl. I was frustrated that I didn’t have my measuring tape or a stud finder. But then I looked up and the light went on.
It’s a garage. And while it is sheet-rocked, the seams are not covered in mud and tape! Brilliant! So, I began to pound my nail starter-thingy and didn’t even whack my thumb. Pretty soon, I had the first bike hung. I was impressed. Next thing I knew, the kids poked their heads out and they were really impressed and asked if they could ride the bike while it hung from the ceiling.
That would be a big NO.
While hanging the 2nd bike, I couldn’t quite see the hook and the tire slipped. Next thing I know, I have a bike bouncing on top of my head. Thank goodness, no one was around to see it. I managed to get it hung up without further incident. I also got the other two hung up on the other side of the garage. The space that opened up on the garage floor was astounding.
I was brutal. I swept and rearranged. I tossed toys and lots of leaves and garbage. And the garage looks clean. Better yet, the Eliptical Beast has a spot and it isn’t in the way! But my incentive for posting it online has diminished because it is tucked away so tidily. Maybe I should pull it out a little so that I trip on it and remind myself that I need to sell it!!
Now that my garage is clean, I am almost ready to tackle my bedroom.
Almost.
My Mom commented that I should take things one step at a time and declare a moratorium (this is the vocabulary word of the year) on:
a) dishes in the living room and
b) pencils, crayons and other writing implements carelessly strewn about.
So, I bought a pencil cup and put on the kitchen counter. I even artfully arranged pencils in it, in hopes that it would inspire the little people into using it.
Her other piece of advice was to take back one small space at a time. She suggested I clear a perimeter around my bed. Sort of a relaxing, clutter-free Mom-zone. I liked the idea but tackling my bedroom, which I share with my almost 12 year old daughter, felt a little too huge even after considering her idea of taping off my “clean zone” and focusing on that only. I think the problem is that I can still SEE the rest of the mess under my daughter’s lofted bed and the huge pile of unwashed laundry in the closet.
I decided to tackle the garage. Actually, I didn’t plan to clean the garage. It just sort of happened. Then I got on a roll and into the groove and I just kept going until it was done.
This project started like many projects do… in a completely different area. In this case, the front closet. I needed to get to the back of the closet in order to pull out winter coats, hats, mittens and boots. In order to get these things, I needed to pull out my Eliptical machine. And the Eliptical machine is something I plan to post on Craigslist, since I am not using it because:
a) there’s NO ROOM in my townhouse and
b) if I really felt ambitious I could go over to the exercise room and use an elliptical or treadmill there
c) I am not that ambitious.
However, getting the machine out of the closet, while wondering how I ever got it IN the closet, is about the equivalent of a 30 minute cardio workout in itself. But I won’t be doing THAT every day.
So, now that the beast is out of the closet, I dragged it to the kitchen and photographed it so that I can post pictures on my ad. But I can’t leave it in the kitchen, taking up valuable real estate there…I must find another home until I get it posted and sold. Enter the garage!
Whew!
So, in order to make this exercise beast fit into my garage and still be able to drive my van in, I needed to reorganize. I did have the foresight earlier of a possible venture of this nature and I had bought 8 red hooks for hanging bikes from the ceiling. I was kinda sorta sure I could figure out how to get them onto the ceiling and fairly almost certain I could then get the bikes up onto the hooks.
I think.
Maybe.
OK. I was willing to give it a good try before calling a male friend for help.
A few weeks ago, I had bought myself a tool box and a small lock. It was a necessity since my tools seem to grow legs and disappear. I had to purchase a 4th hammer this past weekend. And I still haven’t found my measuring tape. But the tools I do have are now safely locked in their box.
So, I gathered my tools and assessed my project. I looked at the screw ends of these hooks and figured I would need to make a hole before twisting them into the ceiling. Not a bad assessment for a girl. I was frustrated that I didn’t have my measuring tape or a stud finder. But then I looked up and the light went on.
It’s a garage. And while it is sheet-rocked, the seams are not covered in mud and tape! Brilliant! So, I began to pound my nail starter-thingy and didn’t even whack my thumb. Pretty soon, I had the first bike hung. I was impressed. Next thing I knew, the kids poked their heads out and they were really impressed and asked if they could ride the bike while it hung from the ceiling.
That would be a big NO.
While hanging the 2nd bike, I couldn’t quite see the hook and the tire slipped. Next thing I know, I have a bike bouncing on top of my head. Thank goodness, no one was around to see it. I managed to get it hung up without further incident. I also got the other two hung up on the other side of the garage. The space that opened up on the garage floor was astounding.
I was brutal. I swept and rearranged. I tossed toys and lots of leaves and garbage. And the garage looks clean. Better yet, the Eliptical Beast has a spot and it isn’t in the way! But my incentive for posting it online has diminished because it is tucked away so tidily. Maybe I should pull it out a little so that I trip on it and remind myself that I need to sell it!!
Now that my garage is clean, I am almost ready to tackle my bedroom.
Almost.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Chilly Day for Chili
I am not ashamed to admit that I have a very weird, some would say warped, sense of humor. I see things a little off center and it makes me laugh. I do believe it is a gift from God, so I have learned to just enjoy it and not make excuses. And most of the time, my type of humor is well received if it is understood or it is ignored (which I think is because it is not understood).
I have been chuckling to myself all day because of a bizarre conversation I had with a friend who has a warped sense of humor equal or perhaps even surpassing my own. I was making chili. And I make chili because it is something I like and not because it is something my children like or ask for. I know, in fact, that they will eat very little of it and I will wind up freezing a huge quantity of it which means there will be more for later and a few more meals that I don’t have to cook. For me, it’s a win-win situation. For my kids, well, they will have a slight grumble in their belly. And I don’t think that is always a bad thing. They are certainly not starving.
Anyway, I added to my chili recipe a pound of ground moose that my neighbor gave me. In August, my kids were creating some sort of fort in the front yard using these milk crates. He pulled me aside one day and asked me about them. I was afraid he was going to be mad that they were messing up the yard but instead he was excited because he has been looking for crates for his propane tanks. He told me he was going hunting for moose very soon and would I sell some of my crates to him?
I considered it for a few days and decided that I had plenty and could certainly spare 4 of them. So, I named my price of five bucks. He was so tickled, he practically danced on my patio. And then he promised me “a slab of meat” when he returned.
Oh-Kay.
I wasn’t sure what I would do with moose meat. I didn’t know anything about how to cook it. So, when he brought four 1 lb paper wrapped and frozen packages, I breathed a sigh of relief because, this I could work with! I wasn’t sure I would make Moose burgers but I figured I could toss it into sauce or chili and my kids would never know the difference.
Back to the weird part. So, I told my friend K that I was making chili with moose meat and he texted me back and asked if I was going to tell my children. I laughed.
Are you kidding? They will barely touch it as it is!
Then he texted that if I could find some squirrel, we could eat chili while watching Rocky and Bullwinkle and then tell the kids after what they were eating. Clearly, he was not going to be over to clean up the vomit on my freshly cleaned carpet!
But I laughed. Really hard and very much out loud. And then I texted back that I could probably hit a couple squirrels on my way to or from work and toss them in.
I have now nicknamed this chili, in lieu of my usual “Tulip’s Almost Famous Chili”, to “Tulip’s Bullwinkle Chili”. And I have been laughing all day.
To make myself giggle even more, I was at an appointment and saw a couple of squirrels scampering across my line of sight. I erupted into peals of laughter.
I am very, very weird. I’m OK with that.
I have been chuckling to myself all day because of a bizarre conversation I had with a friend who has a warped sense of humor equal or perhaps even surpassing my own. I was making chili. And I make chili because it is something I like and not because it is something my children like or ask for. I know, in fact, that they will eat very little of it and I will wind up freezing a huge quantity of it which means there will be more for later and a few more meals that I don’t have to cook. For me, it’s a win-win situation. For my kids, well, they will have a slight grumble in their belly. And I don’t think that is always a bad thing. They are certainly not starving.
Anyway, I added to my chili recipe a pound of ground moose that my neighbor gave me. In August, my kids were creating some sort of fort in the front yard using these milk crates. He pulled me aside one day and asked me about them. I was afraid he was going to be mad that they were messing up the yard but instead he was excited because he has been looking for crates for his propane tanks. He told me he was going hunting for moose very soon and would I sell some of my crates to him?
I considered it for a few days and decided that I had plenty and could certainly spare 4 of them. So, I named my price of five bucks. He was so tickled, he practically danced on my patio. And then he promised me “a slab of meat” when he returned.
Oh-Kay.
I wasn’t sure what I would do with moose meat. I didn’t know anything about how to cook it. So, when he brought four 1 lb paper wrapped and frozen packages, I breathed a sigh of relief because, this I could work with! I wasn’t sure I would make Moose burgers but I figured I could toss it into sauce or chili and my kids would never know the difference.
Back to the weird part. So, I told my friend K that I was making chili with moose meat and he texted me back and asked if I was going to tell my children. I laughed.
Are you kidding? They will barely touch it as it is!
Then he texted that if I could find some squirrel, we could eat chili while watching Rocky and Bullwinkle and then tell the kids after what they were eating. Clearly, he was not going to be over to clean up the vomit on my freshly cleaned carpet!
But I laughed. Really hard and very much out loud. And then I texted back that I could probably hit a couple squirrels on my way to or from work and toss them in.
I have now nicknamed this chili, in lieu of my usual “Tulip’s Almost Famous Chili”, to “Tulip’s Bullwinkle Chili”. And I have been laughing all day.
To make myself giggle even more, I was at an appointment and saw a couple of squirrels scampering across my line of sight. I erupted into peals of laughter.
I am very, very weird. I’m OK with that.
My first Meme:
(from my friend Jamsco)
“The rules are simple. 1) Pick up the nearest book and find page 123. 2) Count the first five (full) sentences. 3) Then quote the next three sentences.:”
This will be interesting because I am at work. Here goes:
“Monitor vital signs. May cause bradycardia, hypertension, or hypotension. An unexplained decrease in blood pressure may indicate hemorrhage.”
--From Davis’s Drug Guide for Nurses
(but I will confess I cheated because this is the 2nd book I picked up…)
Here is what I found in the 1st book I picked up (The Professional Guide to Signs and Symptoms):
“Next, check your nipples for secretions by gently squeezing one nipple between your thumb and forefinger. Check the other nipple the same way. Notify your doctor if you see any secretions, and describe the color and amount.”
And that, folks, is what you get when you ask a nurse!!
“The rules are simple. 1) Pick up the nearest book and find page 123. 2) Count the first five (full) sentences. 3) Then quote the next three sentences.:”
This will be interesting because I am at work. Here goes:
“Monitor vital signs. May cause bradycardia, hypertension, or hypotension. An unexplained decrease in blood pressure may indicate hemorrhage.”
--From Davis’s Drug Guide for Nurses
(but I will confess I cheated because this is the 2nd book I picked up…)
Here is what I found in the 1st book I picked up (The Professional Guide to Signs and Symptoms):
“Next, check your nipples for secretions by gently squeezing one nipple between your thumb and forefinger. Check the other nipple the same way. Notify your doctor if you see any secretions, and describe the color and amount.”
And that, folks, is what you get when you ask a nurse!!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sick Days
Mom, RN was “on duty” today. BB started off his day by telling me that he was not feeling well and that he had “thrown up during the night”. I was immediately suspicious because usually, if a child throws up during the night, they don’t completely make it to the bathroom, nor do they have the wherewithal to flush AND clean up any trace of “forensic evidence”.
Well, son, what are your symptoms? What is bothering you?
I get the vague response, “I just don’t feel good.” So, I check for a fever. Nope. I check for changes in skin pallor. Nope…looks pink and perky. I check for signs of diaphoresis (cold sweats). Nope…skin is dry and warm. Mom, RN’s assessment is that he is well enough to go to school.
Kiddo, you are going to have to tough it out and go anyway.
“Can’t you stay home with me?”
Nope. Mom is out of sick leave. I used it all up when we had strep.
“How about Grandma?”
Nope. Grandma has to work. There are no other options.
“How about Grandpa?”
Nope. Tough it out, buddy. Sometimes, grown-ups have to do that too. We have to go to work when we don’t feel well and rest when we get home.
His last attempt to persuade me was the funniest: “But Mom, I don’t want to spread my germs to the other people.”
If you don’t have a fever, you are not contagious. And you are not spreading any more germs than you usually do.
Pretty soon, he quit trying to convince me. I was waiting for more fake symptoms to appear like dry heaves or a forced coughing fit. But he did none of that. Instead, he sat up and started playing with his lego’s and asked for a pop tart and a glass of milk.
I know what it is like to feel uncomfortable in school because things aren’t going well for some reason. And I was sick a lot when I was in 7th grade. Most of it was legitimate. I had strep throat and then a recurrence of strep. I also got the flu. But there were a lot of my sick days that were vague illnesses with symptoms like “my tummy just hurts”, “my head is throbbing”, and “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I just don’t feel well.” You can’t fool the fooler. I don’t want him to learn that he can avoid his problems like I tried to do. And avoidance only made things worse for me. I missed so much school that I fell behind in all my classes and never really caught up. I didn’t develop any good friendships outside of my group of misfits. We called ourselves “The 4 T’s” because all of our names started with T. And for one reason or another, none of us fit in with anyone else but each other.
I fear that BB could fall into the same trap. This is where I figure I need to be firm in my “too sick for school” criteria; Fever, chills, vomit, excessive and debilitating diarrhea or a doctor diagnosed contagion, recovering from surgery and possibly broken bones.
The following things will have to be toughed out:
Headaches (but I will give Ibuprofen)
Stomachaches (with no vomiting)
“I just feel ickies”
I’m too tired
But on true sick days, I do offer as much TLC as I can give. I will bring you Sprite or Ginger Ale. You can call me or text me when you feel lonely. I will set up your sick bed on the couch with your favorite pillow and soft, warm blankets. I may or may not stay home, depending on your age. But I will also do what is best for you in regards to your illness which may mean limited choices in food and beverage, decreased stimulation from the TV or siblings and you may have to take a nap or two.
Well, son, what are your symptoms? What is bothering you?
I get the vague response, “I just don’t feel good.” So, I check for a fever. Nope. I check for changes in skin pallor. Nope…looks pink and perky. I check for signs of diaphoresis (cold sweats). Nope…skin is dry and warm. Mom, RN’s assessment is that he is well enough to go to school.
Kiddo, you are going to have to tough it out and go anyway.
“Can’t you stay home with me?”
Nope. Mom is out of sick leave. I used it all up when we had strep.
“How about Grandma?”
Nope. Grandma has to work. There are no other options.
“How about Grandpa?”
Nope. Tough it out, buddy. Sometimes, grown-ups have to do that too. We have to go to work when we don’t feel well and rest when we get home.
His last attempt to persuade me was the funniest: “But Mom, I don’t want to spread my germs to the other people.”
If you don’t have a fever, you are not contagious. And you are not spreading any more germs than you usually do.
Pretty soon, he quit trying to convince me. I was waiting for more fake symptoms to appear like dry heaves or a forced coughing fit. But he did none of that. Instead, he sat up and started playing with his lego’s and asked for a pop tart and a glass of milk.
I know what it is like to feel uncomfortable in school because things aren’t going well for some reason. And I was sick a lot when I was in 7th grade. Most of it was legitimate. I had strep throat and then a recurrence of strep. I also got the flu. But there were a lot of my sick days that were vague illnesses with symptoms like “my tummy just hurts”, “my head is throbbing”, and “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I just don’t feel well.” You can’t fool the fooler. I don’t want him to learn that he can avoid his problems like I tried to do. And avoidance only made things worse for me. I missed so much school that I fell behind in all my classes and never really caught up. I didn’t develop any good friendships outside of my group of misfits. We called ourselves “The 4 T’s” because all of our names started with T. And for one reason or another, none of us fit in with anyone else but each other.
I fear that BB could fall into the same trap. This is where I figure I need to be firm in my “too sick for school” criteria; Fever, chills, vomit, excessive and debilitating diarrhea or a doctor diagnosed contagion, recovering from surgery and possibly broken bones.
The following things will have to be toughed out:
Headaches (but I will give Ibuprofen)
Stomachaches (with no vomiting)
“I just feel ickies”
I’m too tired
But on true sick days, I do offer as much TLC as I can give. I will bring you Sprite or Ginger Ale. You can call me or text me when you feel lonely. I will set up your sick bed on the couch with your favorite pillow and soft, warm blankets. I may or may not stay home, depending on your age. But I will also do what is best for you in regards to your illness which may mean limited choices in food and beverage, decreased stimulation from the TV or siblings and you may have to take a nap or two.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Green-Eyed Monster Unleashed
The Green-eyed Monster, or GEM, has been seen creeping around our house causing symptoms ranging from mild to moderate irritation, complaining, yelling or complete defiance and non-cooperation. The reason for his emergence is that one 7 year old boy required a surgical procedure this week and as a result, he has been receiving extra attention, gifts and cards, as well as access to a Wii and Xbox and time with Grandma and Grandpa.
GEM has led to fighting amongst the boys and arguments about the health status and his abilities or non-abilities. GEM has also whispered in the ears of some of the children causing them to say things like, “How come you never buy stuff for us? How come you never let me stay home all week? How come he doesn’t have to do his homework?”.
What is a Mom to do when GEM has invaded? Seriously, if you have ideas, I would love to hear them because I have just about hit my limit for what I can tolerate of this naughty, spoiled, selfish behavior. It is hard enough dealing with a child who had surgery and needs extra attention (yet never demands it and would be easy to overlook his needs), a different diet, monitoring of his pain and comfort and extra rest. But dealing with the other children who think that perhaps the scales are tipped unfairly and they are missing out on something is frustrating. Why can’t you just relax?
I have had to do a lot of reassurance that just because PH needs extra TLC, does not mean that I love them any less. Just because PH gets special presents from people does not mean that they are liked or loved less by the gift-bearers but whining and complaining is not going to result in them receiving gifts and attention.
Because PH is so mild-mannered and compliant and he has such a high pain threshold, he does not look particularly sick or like he is in a lot of pain. However, I the Mom, RN know better. I know what he looks like when he is hurting because he scrunches himself up into a tight little ball and then stares intently at the TV. He won’t admit there is pain unless asked directly. So, I feel it is my place to be his advocate even amongst his siblings. I must tell them what he needs, what he can and cannot do. I must protect him without moving into coddling.
The worst moment, which then turned into a good moment, was a conversation I had with BB who seemed to be the most bothered by the fact that PH did not have to go to school all week, when in his expert 9 year old opinion, PH was clearly well enough to return to school. But as I pulled away the layers in order to figure out what was really bothering BB, we discovered that BB is jealous that PH does not have to go to school but he has to and he does not want to. And further peeling of the layers uncovered that BB is feeling frustrated with school because math is feeling very difficult and he is not understanding it. Ah Ha!!!
So, Mom, RN and sometimes child psychologist, figured out that because math feels impossible, then all of school feels awful when you are a black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinker like BB. But Mom can help him resolve this problem. Mom can step in and advocate for BB. So, this is what I told him. I explained that I would be able to talk to his teacher about his problem with math and request some extra help or attention. I then spent about 20 minutes pouring out my belief in him. I told him the things that make him special and how I believe that since the day he was born, he has been a fighter. I told him the story of his birth and being all bound up in the umbilical cord and how God protected him by giving the doctor the wisdom to determine that a C-section was the best solution and had he decided to send me home for a few more days, BB would have died. Instead, BB came out screaming his head off and kicking like crazy. Then I told him how after being born he was jaundiced and it became Mom’s fight for him because I had to wrap him up in a special light and wake him up every two hours to eat. And all the while, I knew in my heart that God had special plans for BB and his temperament of questioning, arguing and fighting for himself is something God is going to use for good but it is Mom’s job as the parent, to help him find his gifts and help them grow and also to help him identify his weak areas and improve on them.
The whole time I talked to BB, while rubbing his back and talking in a soothing tone, he just relaxed under my hand and curled up. If he was a cat, he would have purred. His eyes were wide and realized that there were parts of his story that I had never, until this moment, shared with him. But he needed to hear it now. He needed to know that God has a special plan for him and that Mom believes in him.
I don’t know if GEM is gone yet. I suspect he is hanging around for a few more days but perhaps his power has been diminished. I have learned that my most powerful weapon for the GEM is prayer and patience. GEM loves to see Mom’s get angry and upset. GEM thrives in discord and irritation. He grows bigger as temper’s flare out of control. But he shrinks when love is spoken and patience is utilized.
GEM has led to fighting amongst the boys and arguments about the health status and his abilities or non-abilities. GEM has also whispered in the ears of some of the children causing them to say things like, “How come you never buy stuff for us? How come you never let me stay home all week? How come he doesn’t have to do his homework?”.
What is a Mom to do when GEM has invaded? Seriously, if you have ideas, I would love to hear them because I have just about hit my limit for what I can tolerate of this naughty, spoiled, selfish behavior. It is hard enough dealing with a child who had surgery and needs extra attention (yet never demands it and would be easy to overlook his needs), a different diet, monitoring of his pain and comfort and extra rest. But dealing with the other children who think that perhaps the scales are tipped unfairly and they are missing out on something is frustrating. Why can’t you just relax?
I have had to do a lot of reassurance that just because PH needs extra TLC, does not mean that I love them any less. Just because PH gets special presents from people does not mean that they are liked or loved less by the gift-bearers but whining and complaining is not going to result in them receiving gifts and attention.
Because PH is so mild-mannered and compliant and he has such a high pain threshold, he does not look particularly sick or like he is in a lot of pain. However, I the Mom, RN know better. I know what he looks like when he is hurting because he scrunches himself up into a tight little ball and then stares intently at the TV. He won’t admit there is pain unless asked directly. So, I feel it is my place to be his advocate even amongst his siblings. I must tell them what he needs, what he can and cannot do. I must protect him without moving into coddling.
The worst moment, which then turned into a good moment, was a conversation I had with BB who seemed to be the most bothered by the fact that PH did not have to go to school all week, when in his expert 9 year old opinion, PH was clearly well enough to return to school. But as I pulled away the layers in order to figure out what was really bothering BB, we discovered that BB is jealous that PH does not have to go to school but he has to and he does not want to. And further peeling of the layers uncovered that BB is feeling frustrated with school because math is feeling very difficult and he is not understanding it. Ah Ha!!!
So, Mom, RN and sometimes child psychologist, figured out that because math feels impossible, then all of school feels awful when you are a black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinker like BB. But Mom can help him resolve this problem. Mom can step in and advocate for BB. So, this is what I told him. I explained that I would be able to talk to his teacher about his problem with math and request some extra help or attention. I then spent about 20 minutes pouring out my belief in him. I told him the things that make him special and how I believe that since the day he was born, he has been a fighter. I told him the story of his birth and being all bound up in the umbilical cord and how God protected him by giving the doctor the wisdom to determine that a C-section was the best solution and had he decided to send me home for a few more days, BB would have died. Instead, BB came out screaming his head off and kicking like crazy. Then I told him how after being born he was jaundiced and it became Mom’s fight for him because I had to wrap him up in a special light and wake him up every two hours to eat. And all the while, I knew in my heart that God had special plans for BB and his temperament of questioning, arguing and fighting for himself is something God is going to use for good but it is Mom’s job as the parent, to help him find his gifts and help them grow and also to help him identify his weak areas and improve on them.
The whole time I talked to BB, while rubbing his back and talking in a soothing tone, he just relaxed under my hand and curled up. If he was a cat, he would have purred. His eyes were wide and realized that there were parts of his story that I had never, until this moment, shared with him. But he needed to hear it now. He needed to know that God has a special plan for him and that Mom believes in him.
I don’t know if GEM is gone yet. I suspect he is hanging around for a few more days but perhaps his power has been diminished. I have learned that my most powerful weapon for the GEM is prayer and patience. GEM loves to see Mom’s get angry and upset. GEM thrives in discord and irritation. He grows bigger as temper’s flare out of control. But he shrinks when love is spoken and patience is utilized.
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