A loud and obnoxious boom shook me rudely awake in the midst of a peaceful night's dreaming. We had fallen asleep with the window open (hot flashes are not my friends) and the clap of thunder sounded like it was in bed with us. Before I could even process it, my husband had rolled over half on me and thrown his arm across my body. He did not wake up.
He was trying to protect me, from whatever had made the unexpected loud noise in our room. He threw himself atop me, trying to shield me, and he did it without conscious thought. He did it without even waking up.
I was floored. I know the man loves me. He demonstrates it in a million different ways every day. But this just caught me by surprise and touched me in a way I haven't been touched in a long time. It still does. The man was so dedicated to protecting me that he did it without hesitation, without thinking. I know that I would probably do the same for him and for my children, but that didn't stop me from being utterly astounded by this unconscious act of my husband's.
Honey, you still amaze me, even after a quarter century of loving you, almost 24 years of marriage, and 7 kids. I am humbled.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Saturday, April 06, 2013
Serious Craziness
Another show is rolling around this week. It's been a hard year. We have a new director and the learning curve has been huge for her. This is only my second year helping so I'm still doing the learning thing as well. Plus the disappointment about Rachel's role has tinged the whole thing with some bitterness for me.
But here it is, and I'm glad it is. I don't know if I could stand much more drama and work. Every year I think I'll get stuff done ahead of time and every year I get it done at the last minute. Well, not the exact last minute this year, but late enough that I'm waking up at 3 every morning in a cold sweat worry about it.
Other things to think about...the anniversary of my mother's death rolled around at the beginning of March. This got me to thinking about her obituary, among other things. And what an idiotic one it was because the man my mother was married to for 25 years asked his daughter (my half-sister) to write it. It was written in an interesting manner, but it bore little truth. Of course, it is not really polite to tell the whole truth sometimes (especially in an obituary, especially in the South) but this was a bit past sugar-coated.
Anyway, I got to thinking about how I would rewrite (or how I would have written) the obit and then started thinking about my own obituary. What could be said about me, to make my life interesting, meaningful, missed? Yes, I do have these moments. No, they aren't always healthy, but there they are.
What would you say in your obituary?
But here it is, and I'm glad it is. I don't know if I could stand much more drama and work. Every year I think I'll get stuff done ahead of time and every year I get it done at the last minute. Well, not the exact last minute this year, but late enough that I'm waking up at 3 every morning in a cold sweat worry about it.
Other things to think about...the anniversary of my mother's death rolled around at the beginning of March. This got me to thinking about her obituary, among other things. And what an idiotic one it was because the man my mother was married to for 25 years asked his daughter (my half-sister) to write it. It was written in an interesting manner, but it bore little truth. Of course, it is not really polite to tell the whole truth sometimes (especially in an obituary, especially in the South) but this was a bit past sugar-coated.
Anyway, I got to thinking about how I would rewrite (or how I would have written) the obit and then started thinking about my own obituary. What could be said about me, to make my life interesting, meaningful, missed? Yes, I do have these moments. No, they aren't always healthy, but there they are.
What would you say in your obituary?
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Thoughts about my boy
We have been so sick for over a week now. I know that people keep talking about all the bad stuff that's going around and how it's worse than usual, etc. I am here to tell you, it's sad when you get a cold that knocks you out for a week. A cold, people! And, of course, it's done the boy a whole lot worse, because of his asthma and nephrotic syndrome.
When David gets a virus of any sort, it usually sets his asthma running amok. It also has the tendency to make his nephrotic syndrome flare. When that happens, he swells up with retained water (his kidneys don't work properly) and he has a series of medical protocols we have to undergo to get him back to normal. His new line of meds really isn't working all that well and this cold has slammed him to the floor.
I took him to the doctor on Monday for a breathing treatment. Even I could hear him wheezing. And he's been so completely limp, not wanting to leave the couch, even to torment the girls. The physician's assistant agreed and got the nebulizer going.
David is a sweet, loving boy but on a daily basis, he's only lovey at night. He gives me a kiss and a hug and tells me he loves me every night before he goes to bed. Also whenever I leave the house. Even if I'm walking the dog. But he doesn't want me loving on him in public. You'll understand why I was surprised when he wanted to sit on my lap and have me hold him like a baby when he was getting his treatment. You may also understand why this was so difficult. David is only a head shorter than I am and quite a solid guy.
We finally achieved this and I was sort of holding him, although not cuddled like a baby. That was not possible on the chairs in the office. I was kind of ruffling his hair with my chin and this sudden, awful thought ran through my head. "What if I'm holding him like this some time because he's been shot?" No, I don't watch a lot of tv, I think the thought was due to the fact that I was burrowing in his afro-Mohawk and subconsciously thinking about him as an adult African-American man.
It was bad enough that he was so sick, now I've got him shot and dying as an adult. I started to analyze where in the world that thought came from but then decided it was too sick to even contemplate. I quashed it down as best I could and cuddled my big little boy. Then an image from a basilica I'd toured some years ago came to mind. It was a statue of Mary holding her dead Son when he came off the cross. And she was holding him much like I was having to hold David.
I can't even imagine. It would be bad enough for your child to get killed because he was doing something stupid or dangerous on his own. But to lose your son because He was being the sacrifice for the sins of all mankind? Including yourself?
No, I don't usually have thoughts like this, but that was the one I had while I was holding David in the doctor's office. My mind. It's just a little funky.
When David gets a virus of any sort, it usually sets his asthma running amok. It also has the tendency to make his nephrotic syndrome flare. When that happens, he swells up with retained water (his kidneys don't work properly) and he has a series of medical protocols we have to undergo to get him back to normal. His new line of meds really isn't working all that well and this cold has slammed him to the floor.
I took him to the doctor on Monday for a breathing treatment. Even I could hear him wheezing. And he's been so completely limp, not wanting to leave the couch, even to torment the girls. The physician's assistant agreed and got the nebulizer going.
David is a sweet, loving boy but on a daily basis, he's only lovey at night. He gives me a kiss and a hug and tells me he loves me every night before he goes to bed. Also whenever I leave the house. Even if I'm walking the dog. But he doesn't want me loving on him in public. You'll understand why I was surprised when he wanted to sit on my lap and have me hold him like a baby when he was getting his treatment. You may also understand why this was so difficult. David is only a head shorter than I am and quite a solid guy.
We finally achieved this and I was sort of holding him, although not cuddled like a baby. That was not possible on the chairs in the office. I was kind of ruffling his hair with my chin and this sudden, awful thought ran through my head. "What if I'm holding him like this some time because he's been shot?" No, I don't watch a lot of tv, I think the thought was due to the fact that I was burrowing in his afro-Mohawk and subconsciously thinking about him as an adult African-American man.
It was bad enough that he was so sick, now I've got him shot and dying as an adult. I started to analyze where in the world that thought came from but then decided it was too sick to even contemplate. I quashed it down as best I could and cuddled my big little boy. Then an image from a basilica I'd toured some years ago came to mind. It was a statue of Mary holding her dead Son when he came off the cross. And she was holding him much like I was having to hold David.
I can't even imagine. It would be bad enough for your child to get killed because he was doing something stupid or dangerous on his own. But to lose your son because He was being the sacrifice for the sins of all mankind? Including yourself?
No, I don't usually have thoughts like this, but that was the one I had while I was holding David in the doctor's office. My mind. It's just a little funky.
Saturday, February 02, 2013
And here we go...
I've actually been thinking a lot about writing, about this blog, about all sorts of things. When I finished my volunteer stint at the library this afternoon, I had an overwhelming desire to sit at a library computer and update. Here I am.
I seem to be in the midst of a full-blown mid-life crisis. That's all I can think it is. Everything seems like such an effort and I'm slogging through my life as if I was mired in molasses. I was going to say, "grieving". It sort of feels overwhelming like grief but not like grief in other ways. And it makes me sad.
I know that these years are going to be very precious to me in years to come and I want to enjoy them. It seems, though, that this black cloud hanging over me obscures that most of the time. Occasionally I can ascend over it and see the bigger picture, but in the day-to-day, I'm low on the mountain.
My girls are growing up! My boy is growing up! Sarah will be 20 in April, Rachel 18 in March, and Abigail 14 in May. The twins will be 9 but not until September. I don't think I'm in any danger of losing them anytime soon, to their moving out and such like, but this time will be so very brief. They're young adults and mid-teens and then the twins are changing as well. They aren't changing as quickly as their older sisters so I don't always feel such a sense of panic about them. Perhaps I should.
Yes, I take anti-depressants and yes I do therapy. Yes, yes, yes. It's not that it doesn't help, I think I'm just wigging out more than usual.
So what are the problems? I don't feel important at all. I know, in some place in my rational self, that I am important and special to my family and dear friends. But I don't *feel* it, you know. Or I just take it for granted and want more. How greedy. Yes, there are many times that I can't stand myself, but that is old news indeed.
I have this weird back-and-forth between feeling that the time is going away too fast, that I'm old and where did my life go, and feeling like I'm just done with the whole thing. Am I suicidal? No, not exactly. But death does not seem an enemy either.
I will say that I woke up this morning feeling wonderful, peaceful, and light. Probably that is why I felt like I had enough energy to go on through my plans for the day. And I don't want to let the view from the top of the mountain fade away so I will stop.
I hope that, wherever y'all are, that you are experiencing love and peace.
I seem to be in the midst of a full-blown mid-life crisis. That's all I can think it is. Everything seems like such an effort and I'm slogging through my life as if I was mired in molasses. I was going to say, "grieving". It sort of feels overwhelming like grief but not like grief in other ways. And it makes me sad.
I know that these years are going to be very precious to me in years to come and I want to enjoy them. It seems, though, that this black cloud hanging over me obscures that most of the time. Occasionally I can ascend over it and see the bigger picture, but in the day-to-day, I'm low on the mountain.
My girls are growing up! My boy is growing up! Sarah will be 20 in April, Rachel 18 in March, and Abigail 14 in May. The twins will be 9 but not until September. I don't think I'm in any danger of losing them anytime soon, to their moving out and such like, but this time will be so very brief. They're young adults and mid-teens and then the twins are changing as well. They aren't changing as quickly as their older sisters so I don't always feel such a sense of panic about them. Perhaps I should.
Yes, I take anti-depressants and yes I do therapy. Yes, yes, yes. It's not that it doesn't help, I think I'm just wigging out more than usual.
So what are the problems? I don't feel important at all. I know, in some place in my rational self, that I am important and special to my family and dear friends. But I don't *feel* it, you know. Or I just take it for granted and want more. How greedy. Yes, there are many times that I can't stand myself, but that is old news indeed.
I have this weird back-and-forth between feeling that the time is going away too fast, that I'm old and where did my life go, and feeling like I'm just done with the whole thing. Am I suicidal? No, not exactly. But death does not seem an enemy either.
I will say that I woke up this morning feeling wonderful, peaceful, and light. Probably that is why I felt like I had enough energy to go on through my plans for the day. And I don't want to let the view from the top of the mountain fade away so I will stop.
I hope that, wherever y'all are, that you are experiencing love and peace.
Sunday, October 07, 2012
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
That's what you say when you don't know what to say.
Seriously, I don't have a lot to say but I know that if I don't say something, at some point I'll just quit writing. I've already quit quilting, knitting, and scrapbooking. I don't want to quit writing too.
I don't know what to tell my therapist when I go in to see her. There are times in between visits that I am way down in the valley and times when I'm not. She thinks I need to get my meds adjusted or get more exercise. I think I need to get a life.
Do any of you have a bucket list? I don't have one, but I'm pondering it.
I guess I'll quit and go to bed. Now that the weather is cooling off, I'm finally able to sleep. I sleep with the window open in blissful coolness. Friend Husband sleeps in extra layers. Ta ta!
Seriously, I don't have a lot to say but I know that if I don't say something, at some point I'll just quit writing. I've already quit quilting, knitting, and scrapbooking. I don't want to quit writing too.
I don't know what to tell my therapist when I go in to see her. There are times in between visits that I am way down in the valley and times when I'm not. She thinks I need to get my meds adjusted or get more exercise. I think I need to get a life.
Do any of you have a bucket list? I don't have one, but I'm pondering it.
I guess I'll quit and go to bed. Now that the weather is cooling off, I'm finally able to sleep. I sleep with the window open in blissful coolness. Friend Husband sleeps in extra layers. Ta ta!
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Angry, bitter, and some news
First the news: David is having a kidney biopsy tomorrow afternoon. They are trying to find out what's going on with his kidneys as they put him on his third medication trial. He's looking forward to it. Me, not so much.
Now for angry and bitter...and be prepared for this to be somewhat ugly.
Ok, the kids are all involved in musical theater. The older girls, in particular, are very involved in it. As a result, I have been involved in it pretty heavily myself.
Last week were auditions for the spring musical. The twins' class is doing Flat Stanley and the older class is (at last!) doing Beauty and the Beast. As a helper in the classes, I watched auditions and evaluated the students' performances. In the junior class, there are no complaints. The twins did very well for themselves, considering that their auditions were not that great. The senior class was another story altogether.
My daughter Rachel has quite a lovely voice. It is my opinion that her audition was the best for the character of Belle. There were two other girls who were close but Rachel won out for a variety of reasons, in my book. The director agreed that the choice would be between Rachel and this other girl (whom I love just for herself; my beef is not with her). The primary parent helper in that class suggested that, because Rachel has had more leading parts than the other girl, it was the other girl's turn to get a leading part.
I was rather aghast.
We had had the discussion about how her own daughter should try out for whatever part she wants, regardless of the fact that her daughter is one of the younger ones in the class and felt that she should "let the other girls have a chance". Then the parent helper advised her daughter to audition for whatever she wanted and not worry about the other girls. Fine and dandy. That's apparently great for her daughter but when it comes to another person, we want to not promote based on merit but on the fact that the other girl hasn't had as many main roles as Rachel has.
GRRRRR.
And apparently the director decided that that was the way to go. The other girl, who has another year to go I will also point out, is Belle and Rachel is Babette. Yay.
If Rachel had botched her audition or if the other girl were demonstratively better, I'd admit it and move on. But that is not the case. And I notice that the other parent helper's daughter got exactly the role she wanted, even though there was someone else who did a better job during auditions.
I am frustrated. And bitter. And angry. I don't think they collaborated to keep Rachel from getting the role but I do think that the parent helper was influencing the director in ways I have no idea of knowing. The director is new and rather overwhelmed at this point. I guess I should be angry with her but I'm not. It's the other mom that has my back up.
This is a woman I have repeatedly helped over the course of the years. I have gone out of my way to be kind to her and her daughter. I willingly help with costuming and stuff that has no bearing on the show I help on. I guess I'm the rube.
What I want to do is rage and throw a fit and quit this whole thing. What I will probably do is to work out my anger in another way and be very much more cautious about how I help her and everyone else in the future.
I hate that. But I also don't want to be taken advantage of.
GRRRR.
This probably makes little to no sense. I'm so angry that I'm crying. I never cry. I am very very angry.
And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
Now for angry and bitter...and be prepared for this to be somewhat ugly.
Ok, the kids are all involved in musical theater. The older girls, in particular, are very involved in it. As a result, I have been involved in it pretty heavily myself.
Last week were auditions for the spring musical. The twins' class is doing Flat Stanley and the older class is (at last!) doing Beauty and the Beast. As a helper in the classes, I watched auditions and evaluated the students' performances. In the junior class, there are no complaints. The twins did very well for themselves, considering that their auditions were not that great. The senior class was another story altogether.
My daughter Rachel has quite a lovely voice. It is my opinion that her audition was the best for the character of Belle. There were two other girls who were close but Rachel won out for a variety of reasons, in my book. The director agreed that the choice would be between Rachel and this other girl (whom I love just for herself; my beef is not with her). The primary parent helper in that class suggested that, because Rachel has had more leading parts than the other girl, it was the other girl's turn to get a leading part.
I was rather aghast.
We had had the discussion about how her own daughter should try out for whatever part she wants, regardless of the fact that her daughter is one of the younger ones in the class and felt that she should "let the other girls have a chance". Then the parent helper advised her daughter to audition for whatever she wanted and not worry about the other girls. Fine and dandy. That's apparently great for her daughter but when it comes to another person, we want to not promote based on merit but on the fact that the other girl hasn't had as many main roles as Rachel has.
GRRRRR.
And apparently the director decided that that was the way to go. The other girl, who has another year to go I will also point out, is Belle and Rachel is Babette. Yay.
If Rachel had botched her audition or if the other girl were demonstratively better, I'd admit it and move on. But that is not the case. And I notice that the other parent helper's daughter got exactly the role she wanted, even though there was someone else who did a better job during auditions.
I am frustrated. And bitter. And angry. I don't think they collaborated to keep Rachel from getting the role but I do think that the parent helper was influencing the director in ways I have no idea of knowing. The director is new and rather overwhelmed at this point. I guess I should be angry with her but I'm not. It's the other mom that has my back up.
This is a woman I have repeatedly helped over the course of the years. I have gone out of my way to be kind to her and her daughter. I willingly help with costuming and stuff that has no bearing on the show I help on. I guess I'm the rube.
What I want to do is rage and throw a fit and quit this whole thing. What I will probably do is to work out my anger in another way and be very much more cautious about how I help her and everyone else in the future.
I hate that. But I also don't want to be taken advantage of.
GRRRR.
This probably makes little to no sense. I'm so angry that I'm crying. I never cry. I am very very angry.
And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
A Short One
I've got ants in my pants and don't want to spend any more time here in the library. I do, however, know that if I don't take some time and write at least a little, I'll beat myself up for it. So here goes.
Canoeing
Friend Husband and I took the kids canoeing a couple of weeks ago. It was really fun, except when we had the twins with us. That is, whoever had the twins in his canoe, did not have a good time. The rest of us quickly got the hang of the paddling, obeying the person in the back (that would be me), and just having a good time. And we got a fabulous workout! I think I burned 1300 calories that day...woohoo! I wish we could go more often but it's just too expensive.
Biking
I've been biking a bit more of late. Well, I was before someone who is younger than I and residing in my house knocked my bike over. Now it makes an ominous moaning sound when I ride it. I do not find this conducive to an enjoyable bike trip.
Anyway, I had been riding a fair amount before that event. The trip to the library is 1.5 miles and takes about 15 minutes. The trip to the grocery store is longer and I didn't really measure how much time it took. It's about 8 miles to go to the bank in the Kroger, then across the street to Meijer, then home. I was proud of myself when I finished that. Now, come to find out that a few of my friends do that much daily. I'm not so proud anymore. Bleah.
Anniversary trip
Friend Husband and I celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary earlier this month. We each, separately, decided to plan a trip without the younglings, asking Sarah to be in charge of them. She finally told each of us that the other was also planning something, which is a good thing because we were planning two totally different trips! He was planning a trip to Xenia and I, a trip to Hocking Hills. Xenia won and it was amazing fun, at least for me. We stayed in a lovely B&B, in what is probably the best room in the house. It had a lovely bed, of course, a whirlpool tub, and two other marvelous things: a pool table and a screened-in porch. Did I mention that this room was on the second floor of the house? No, I see I did not. It is. So this porch was like a screened-in balcony, which was coolness itself, as far as I was concerned. There was a tiny balcony outside one of the windows but with my ginormous weight, I was afraid to try it.
Anyway, the house was built in 1881 by one of Xenia's foremost citizens. Apparently, he spared no expense to make the house as lovely as possible. Perhaps another time I will gush more about it. Here is the place where it is. In the picture of the house on the home page, my lovely screened-in porch is featured, just above the front door. Squee!
When we were there, lounging in the whirlpool, we discussed the possibility of our cycling up to Xenia and spending another night in the Victoria's B&B. It's 51 miles from Milford to Xenia, on one of the wonderful bike trails that we apparently sport in Ohio. Fifty-one miles might not be much to some people (I have a friend who said her husband did a 51 mile trip in an afternoon), but it seems crazy to me. But I guess we're going to try, if we can ever get to training for this stupid thing.
It was wonderful to spend time alone with Friend Husband. I felt so much more loving and relaxed by the time we were heading home. Of course, that changed when we got home to find that David had shattered the back of one of the other cars with an iron cyclinder. How brief and lovely is peace!
Canoeing
Friend Husband and I took the kids canoeing a couple of weeks ago. It was really fun, except when we had the twins with us. That is, whoever had the twins in his canoe, did not have a good time. The rest of us quickly got the hang of the paddling, obeying the person in the back (that would be me), and just having a good time. And we got a fabulous workout! I think I burned 1300 calories that day...woohoo! I wish we could go more often but it's just too expensive.
Biking
I've been biking a bit more of late. Well, I was before someone who is younger than I and residing in my house knocked my bike over. Now it makes an ominous moaning sound when I ride it. I do not find this conducive to an enjoyable bike trip.
Anyway, I had been riding a fair amount before that event. The trip to the library is 1.5 miles and takes about 15 minutes. The trip to the grocery store is longer and I didn't really measure how much time it took. It's about 8 miles to go to the bank in the Kroger, then across the street to Meijer, then home. I was proud of myself when I finished that. Now, come to find out that a few of my friends do that much daily. I'm not so proud anymore. Bleah.
Anniversary trip
Friend Husband and I celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary earlier this month. We each, separately, decided to plan a trip without the younglings, asking Sarah to be in charge of them. She finally told each of us that the other was also planning something, which is a good thing because we were planning two totally different trips! He was planning a trip to Xenia and I, a trip to Hocking Hills. Xenia won and it was amazing fun, at least for me. We stayed in a lovely B&B, in what is probably the best room in the house. It had a lovely bed, of course, a whirlpool tub, and two other marvelous things: a pool table and a screened-in porch. Did I mention that this room was on the second floor of the house? No, I see I did not. It is. So this porch was like a screened-in balcony, which was coolness itself, as far as I was concerned. There was a tiny balcony outside one of the windows but with my ginormous weight, I was afraid to try it.
Anyway, the house was built in 1881 by one of Xenia's foremost citizens. Apparently, he spared no expense to make the house as lovely as possible. Perhaps another time I will gush more about it. Here is the place where it is. In the picture of the house on the home page, my lovely screened-in porch is featured, just above the front door. Squee!
When we were there, lounging in the whirlpool, we discussed the possibility of our cycling up to Xenia and spending another night in the Victoria's B&B. It's 51 miles from Milford to Xenia, on one of the wonderful bike trails that we apparently sport in Ohio. Fifty-one miles might not be much to some people (I have a friend who said her husband did a 51 mile trip in an afternoon), but it seems crazy to me. But I guess we're going to try, if we can ever get to training for this stupid thing.
It was wonderful to spend time alone with Friend Husband. I felt so much more loving and relaxed by the time we were heading home. Of course, that changed when we got home to find that David had shattered the back of one of the other cars with an iron cyclinder. How brief and lovely is peace!
Panera Pondering
From August 11, 2012 on my Xanga account:
Yes, I am sitting right here in my friendly neighborhood Panera, resting and writing this post on my semi-new phone. Thus far I am not enjoying the experience. I love Panera, I just cannot see what I'm typing.
Ok, this will not work. I guess I'll do it when I get back home. Things I should remember to talk about are my anniversary trip and biking. And maybe canoeing.
Yes, I am sitting right here in my friendly neighborhood Panera, resting and writing this post on my semi-new phone. Thus far I am not enjoying the experience. I love Panera, I just cannot see what I'm typing.
Ok, this will not work. I guess I'll do it when I get back home. Things I should remember to talk about are my anniversary trip and biking. And maybe canoeing.
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