Tonight I sit here, poised on edge of my mid 40's (44 tomorrow to be exact) and began to reflect. I am not what I would consider old, or even middle aged. Old is what my parents are! Sorry Mom and Dad, I really didn't mean any disrespect, but compared to me, you are older. I still feel like I did in my 20's and 30's, but recently, the idea of mortality actually got to me.
After years of taking care of everyone else, and making sure they all got to their doctors appointments and took their medications, I figured it was time to finally take myself in for a physical. The doctor I had been going to for the better part of my adult life decided to retire! I mean, really? I felt like an orphan in a strange way. I no longer had an office to call or go to when I was sick or needed a check up. I took to asking friends about their doctors and found out that my good friend had found herself in the same predicament! The funny thing was, we had been seeing the same doctor for years and never even knew it!
After talking to my mom, she suggested I see the one she'd been going to for a year or so. I was reluctant. It took me a year to find a new hair stylist after the one who had been there through middle and high school, college, marriage, and mommy hood suddenly passed away. How could I just go and "try out" a new physician. Well, the deciding factor for me was a trip to the ER on Super Bowl Sunday for severe stomach pains. During triage, they asked me the name of my primary physician. I had none, no name to give, no one to say I would follow up with during the week. That was it. I HAD to go.
The appointment made and the date was set. I dreaded the outcome. The weigh in was an eye opener, the physical was ok, but then again, who likes to be poked and prodded. After the hand outs on nutrition, pre diabetes, and the order to get a blood pressure monitor, I was then bled dry by the vampire masquerading around as a "lab technician". I'm sure you all know what comes next...a trip to the restroom to pee into that see through plastic cup with a lid that somehow doesn't fit right when you have to walk it across the hall, and back to the room where the sacrificial letting took place.
With the bodily fluid check point behind me, an EKG was the final event where at the very least I didn't have to get naked for. I did have to flash that technician so the leads could be stuck to my chest, and was disappointed when I wasn't given any strings of colorful beads for my effort. At last, I was released to return to my place of employment and continue on with my day.
With that said, test results the following weeks were not ideal. In fact, not good at all. My EKG, and other tests were primarily fine, the cholesterol and blood pressure numbers were sending me down a road from which I probably wouldn't return. My body makes too much cholesterol. That's right, I manufacture the crap that could contribute to my demise at a much earlier age than I had in mind. The BP was high to boot! Walking time bomb comes to mind. So, I diet, exercise, take pills. Welcome to my world.
As I had said earlier, I began to reflect. The term "Bucket List" swam around and I thought of things that I would like to do before I die. At random times I would say to my husband (I will from now on refer to him as Radio Guy since he works with them ALL day. I also have a good friend and fellow blogger who has a hubby who works with cameras and hence is referred to as Camera Guy. Radio and Camera Guy are friends too, but that's another blog!) things I wanted on my list. Tom Jones in Vegas! Paris! Tuscany! Be a Grandma! Blurted out followed by awkward silence. Yup, I have started my Bucket List at 43. I have quite a bit I want to do and if I keep up the good work, I will have many years in which to complete them.
Happy 44th Birthday to me......and MANY more!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Tooth Fairy Cometh
As a mom, you endure many challenges, each one unique. The other day, I was hit with one while hurtling down the freeway during the evening commute. This story is true....
You should know by now, if you've bothered to actually READ my post, or you actually know who I am, that I have a son. He's at this moment, 7.5 years old. He is my little man, the joy of my life, and he has one quirk that will make even the most steady come out of their skin if faced with it. He panics. The screams come out of the silence of the back seat, make your heart leap into your throat, or even better, into your lap. There is no ramping up, it's as if a balloon burst right next to your ear, and you had no idea it was even there.
A couple of nights ago we were in the home stretch of our nightly commute, and he was unusually quiet. I simply continued to drive quite sure that he was just tired from a long day at school and just didn't feel like talking. I was dead wrong. He had been wiggling his latest loose tooth. He moved it enough that the back part broke free from the gum. That's when it hit. At first, he calmly said, Oh, Mom, my tooth just came out. Wow! Great! I reached back and placed my hand palm up to take possession of one tooth.
That's not what I got. I felt something warm flow onto my hand at the same moment the screams started. No, the screams were NOT from me, but knowing what I was holding, the should have been. My boy was screaming like a banshee. The initial pound of my now startled heart was like a thud against a base drum and just as loud. Blood in my hand, a screaming child, a busy freeway. Find a happy place, find a happy place! Right after I fish around the floor between the front seats for some tissues.
When a child, especially your child begins screaming "I'm bleeding to death" you take notice and you are faced with a phenomenon known as fight or flight. Since I'm strapped into a moving vehicle, of which I'm in control, I had to fight. Trying to calm him down, maneuver over to an off ramp from the fast lane, and keep myself from screaming was all encompassing. I succeeded in accomplishing all three goals.
His tooth had not actually fallen out as originally thought, but rather it was hanging on for dear life by a thread of gum. Nothing could be done to remove the tooth, and having it still there was not what he wanted. Not by a long shot. Here we go again, the shhhh, and calm downs started for the balance of our drive. Pulling into the garage could not come soon enough.
Once home, we regrouped inside, and he promptly asked, in an eerily normal tone, if I wanted to pull it out. Um, excuse me? Not 15 minutes ago, he was sure death by bleeding was eminent, and NOW he wants me to pull that sucker out? Who is this child?
Needless to say, after a few fumbles, that tooth was extracted only to bring on more cries and bleeding. Oh jeez, really? If I could have crawled into that bottle of whiskey I have in the cupboard....but I digress. Mission complete. Tooth was now ready for placement under the pillow. He was rewarded with a dollar and I climbed into bed utterly exhausted. The things we do for our children.
You should know by now, if you've bothered to actually READ my post, or you actually know who I am, that I have a son. He's at this moment, 7.5 years old. He is my little man, the joy of my life, and he has one quirk that will make even the most steady come out of their skin if faced with it. He panics. The screams come out of the silence of the back seat, make your heart leap into your throat, or even better, into your lap. There is no ramping up, it's as if a balloon burst right next to your ear, and you had no idea it was even there.
A couple of nights ago we were in the home stretch of our nightly commute, and he was unusually quiet. I simply continued to drive quite sure that he was just tired from a long day at school and just didn't feel like talking. I was dead wrong. He had been wiggling his latest loose tooth. He moved it enough that the back part broke free from the gum. That's when it hit. At first, he calmly said, Oh, Mom, my tooth just came out. Wow! Great! I reached back and placed my hand palm up to take possession of one tooth.
That's not what I got. I felt something warm flow onto my hand at the same moment the screams started. No, the screams were NOT from me, but knowing what I was holding, the should have been. My boy was screaming like a banshee. The initial pound of my now startled heart was like a thud against a base drum and just as loud. Blood in my hand, a screaming child, a busy freeway. Find a happy place, find a happy place! Right after I fish around the floor between the front seats for some tissues.
When a child, especially your child begins screaming "I'm bleeding to death" you take notice and you are faced with a phenomenon known as fight or flight. Since I'm strapped into a moving vehicle, of which I'm in control, I had to fight. Trying to calm him down, maneuver over to an off ramp from the fast lane, and keep myself from screaming was all encompassing. I succeeded in accomplishing all three goals.
His tooth had not actually fallen out as originally thought, but rather it was hanging on for dear life by a thread of gum. Nothing could be done to remove the tooth, and having it still there was not what he wanted. Not by a long shot. Here we go again, the shhhh, and calm downs started for the balance of our drive. Pulling into the garage could not come soon enough.
Once home, we regrouped inside, and he promptly asked, in an eerily normal tone, if I wanted to pull it out. Um, excuse me? Not 15 minutes ago, he was sure death by bleeding was eminent, and NOW he wants me to pull that sucker out? Who is this child?
Needless to say, after a few fumbles, that tooth was extracted only to bring on more cries and bleeding. Oh jeez, really? If I could have crawled into that bottle of whiskey I have in the cupboard....but I digress. Mission complete. Tooth was now ready for placement under the pillow. He was rewarded with a dollar and I climbed into bed utterly exhausted. The things we do for our children.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Deck the halls with a right hook
It's December. Really? Where in the world did the time go? It seems like only yesterday we were in the midst of summer heat, summer camp, and planning for school to start again. Come and gone, steamrolled right over me, leaving me without words - only a grunt or gah at the thought of shopping and planning for the holidays when I really wasn't ready!
3 weeks until Christmas and not a decoration up, not a tree in the living room, not a present purchased or even thought about. Surprisingly, I'm ok with it. It may be that I'm just in pre holiday denial, or the drugs I've taken are that good! In any event, it's that time of year again and I will not get sucked into the vortex of stressing over it, and working myself into a frenzy.
Of course, when you have a child who is all about the gifts, you can't help but try to accommodate the young one and make his every wish come true. He believes. It's so helpful when trying to coerce him in to good behavior, and I use it to my advantage. He came to me one day and said that he was sorry but he was on the naughty list. Keeping the snicker to myself, I assured him he was not on that list but risked placement if he didn't behave. Feeling better about his status, he promptly said that a classmate (who has been a bit of a bully to him) was definitely on the the bad list. Yup, he was adamant, and I probably shouldn't have, but I wholeheartedly agreed with him. I'm going to hell.
Being sick during the holidays stinks. I wish I felt more inclined to plan a Holiday Party, go shopping, or enjoy a drive down those neighborhood streets where the residents go to the nines with decorations. I'm barely functioning these days, but I am the one with the daunting task of preparing for the events at the end of this month.
As the coughing subsides, my chapped lips and red nose heal, I will get my butt in gear and at the last minute, as usual, pull a rabbit out of my hat. The procrastination only drives me to do my best work. I don't have the luxury of mulling over ideas, I simply must conquer. Amazon is my best friend and the office will be hopping with deliveries as I and co workers take advantage of the internet for their holiday shopping.
So, for those of you who finished their shopping before Thanksgiving...pffffftttthh. Those who faced Black Friday...hope you didn't get pepper sprayed! It's the most expensive time of the year, and time is not cheap. Spend with reckless abandon...time that is, with those you love the most. It should never be just about the wrapping, boxes, bows...it's should be about knowing what's most important in your life and celebrating that.
Happy Holidays!
3 weeks until Christmas and not a decoration up, not a tree in the living room, not a present purchased or even thought about. Surprisingly, I'm ok with it. It may be that I'm just in pre holiday denial, or the drugs I've taken are that good! In any event, it's that time of year again and I will not get sucked into the vortex of stressing over it, and working myself into a frenzy.
Of course, when you have a child who is all about the gifts, you can't help but try to accommodate the young one and make his every wish come true. He believes. It's so helpful when trying to coerce him in to good behavior, and I use it to my advantage. He came to me one day and said that he was sorry but he was on the naughty list. Keeping the snicker to myself, I assured him he was not on that list but risked placement if he didn't behave. Feeling better about his status, he promptly said that a classmate (who has been a bit of a bully to him) was definitely on the the bad list. Yup, he was adamant, and I probably shouldn't have, but I wholeheartedly agreed with him. I'm going to hell.
Being sick during the holidays stinks. I wish I felt more inclined to plan a Holiday Party, go shopping, or enjoy a drive down those neighborhood streets where the residents go to the nines with decorations. I'm barely functioning these days, but I am the one with the daunting task of preparing for the events at the end of this month.
As the coughing subsides, my chapped lips and red nose heal, I will get my butt in gear and at the last minute, as usual, pull a rabbit out of my hat. The procrastination only drives me to do my best work. I don't have the luxury of mulling over ideas, I simply must conquer. Amazon is my best friend and the office will be hopping with deliveries as I and co workers take advantage of the internet for their holiday shopping.
So, for those of you who finished their shopping before Thanksgiving...pffffftttthh. Those who faced Black Friday...hope you didn't get pepper sprayed! It's the most expensive time of the year, and time is not cheap. Spend with reckless abandon...time that is, with those you love the most. It should never be just about the wrapping, boxes, bows...it's should be about knowing what's most important in your life and celebrating that.
Happy Holidays!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Mom, interrupted
For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mom. I would babysit for family and neighbors through my teenage years, and eventually go on to college to become an elementary school teacher. I loved kids. Maternal instincts ran deep, and i hoped to have a child with that man I married. I kept trying to get him to agree to starting a family, but I was met with resistance. It was never a matter of not wanting a kid, it was more "oh crap, I have to become a responsible adult if that happens!"
As the years went by, adopting cats became my substitute. 3 cats became my "kids" over a four year period. Firmly in my early 30's, I was not old, per se, just marching towards the age where if I wasn't a mom by then, I never would be.
In 2003 I turned 35 and both the hubby and I found ourselves unemployed. PERFECT conditions for starting a family. Television programming one day in September was mediocre and we had nothing better to do. So, some months and a refi later, we welcomed a son in late May of 2004.
From that moment on, I have been interrupted. My sleep, my phone calls, my meals, my thoughts...unfinished. On rare occasions I'm allowed a moment in the bathroom to complete at least ONE thing! Mostly it's when the boy is at school or sleeping, that I can being and finish anything!
It comes with the territory, part of the bargain, in the fine print of the contract that no one but $300 a minute lawyers reads. Complaining was useless and all I'd get from others (who had children themselves) was an eye roll, a snicker and a half assed "oh that's too bad". I could however, commiserate with my mom. She was thrilled being a Nana and gave me much needed reassurance that I was going to be fine, without sounding condescending.
Pre mommy hood, I used to see parents try to carry on conversations with others, constantly side-tracked by their children butting in, asking questions or demanding their attention. I felt confident I would not allow that to happen to me. Well, I'm pleased to announce that I'm human. I would by far, rather be a mom interrupted, than just me, with complete sentences.
As I type this, I'm asked to cuddle. I guess I'm finished here. Good night.
As the years went by, adopting cats became my substitute. 3 cats became my "kids" over a four year period. Firmly in my early 30's, I was not old, per se, just marching towards the age where if I wasn't a mom by then, I never would be.
In 2003 I turned 35 and both the hubby and I found ourselves unemployed. PERFECT conditions for starting a family. Television programming one day in September was mediocre and we had nothing better to do. So, some months and a refi later, we welcomed a son in late May of 2004.
From that moment on, I have been interrupted. My sleep, my phone calls, my meals, my thoughts...unfinished. On rare occasions I'm allowed a moment in the bathroom to complete at least ONE thing! Mostly it's when the boy is at school or sleeping, that I can being and finish anything!
It comes with the territory, part of the bargain, in the fine print of the contract that no one but $300 a minute lawyers reads. Complaining was useless and all I'd get from others (who had children themselves) was an eye roll, a snicker and a half assed "oh that's too bad". I could however, commiserate with my mom. She was thrilled being a Nana and gave me much needed reassurance that I was going to be fine, without sounding condescending.
Pre mommy hood, I used to see parents try to carry on conversations with others, constantly side-tracked by their children butting in, asking questions or demanding their attention. I felt confident I would not allow that to happen to me. Well, I'm pleased to announce that I'm human. I would by far, rather be a mom interrupted, than just me, with complete sentences.
As I type this, I'm asked to cuddle. I guess I'm finished here. Good night.
Monday, November 14, 2011
In the sleep of the night
That's what I'm lacking....sleep. With the lack of sleep comes irritability, and with that frowny, unhappy people in my house. I need a palatable form of caffeine everyday, without fail and I think the medical community would agree that caffeine is good for you. The health benefits abound for me as well as for those in my proximity. My husband some months ago lost his mind and decided to forgo coffee, energy drinks, and soda all at once. I was crushed. I felt abandoned in my addiction and was annoyed that I could no longer find empathy from the man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with.
My lack of sleep is genetic. Not through heredity, but from my genes I contributed to an offspring. He crawls in between the spouse and me, making himself quite comfortable. A kick to the kidney, a slap across the face is a regular routine as he spreads out overtaking the space like kudzu. I want to put him back in his own bed, but I'm too darn tired to drag myself up to accomplish that goal. So I become contorted and uncomfortable, doze on and off only to be rudely awakened by a jazzy number from the OLD Blackberry that has been sent to pasture as an alarm clock.
As much as I try to detox, I can't. I have cut down, and we no longer buy soda for the house, but I will continue to feed the monster. If stranded on an island, the one item I would want to have is my Keurig. As long as people pick, roast and grind those precious beans, I will forever pay my dealer for that drug.
As I sit here on the sofa, exhausted, I'm almost too tired to turn off the tv and go to bed when I have the chance. I don't mind being tired, really. It may seem strange to embrace sleep deprivation, but the reason I am is worth it. I'll long for the days when my child wanted to snuggle and wish for him to be this age again. I will take full advantage of days like this. I'll sleep later.
My lack of sleep is genetic. Not through heredity, but from my genes I contributed to an offspring. He crawls in between the spouse and me, making himself quite comfortable. A kick to the kidney, a slap across the face is a regular routine as he spreads out overtaking the space like kudzu. I want to put him back in his own bed, but I'm too darn tired to drag myself up to accomplish that goal. So I become contorted and uncomfortable, doze on and off only to be rudely awakened by a jazzy number from the OLD Blackberry that has been sent to pasture as an alarm clock.
As much as I try to detox, I can't. I have cut down, and we no longer buy soda for the house, but I will continue to feed the monster. If stranded on an island, the one item I would want to have is my Keurig. As long as people pick, roast and grind those precious beans, I will forever pay my dealer for that drug.
As I sit here on the sofa, exhausted, I'm almost too tired to turn off the tv and go to bed when I have the chance. I don't mind being tired, really. It may seem strange to embrace sleep deprivation, but the reason I am is worth it. I'll long for the days when my child wanted to snuggle and wish for him to be this age again. I will take full advantage of days like this. I'll sleep later.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Parenting 101
I've thought about resorting to treating my child like wildlife when he's having a meltdown. The other day I missed the turn onto a street we've taken to school for 2 1/2 years. My bad. I zoned out, goofed, whatever...I made a minor mistake. Unfortunately, that did not sit well with Mr. Pissy Pants. The disdain reached a crescendo and for a moment I wished I was a Game Warden and could turn around and shoot a tranquilizer dart into his neck, downing him like an elephant. Of course I would never do anything to hurt him, but it's like having the Tazmanian Devil in the backseat and I'm trapped in a moving vehicle with no end in sight.
After I came back to reality and assured my co-pilot that all was well, he eventually did calm down and we arrived at school unscathed. I continued on to work, wanting to stop by a 7 Eleven for something to calm my nerves, but showing up to the office slurring my words would be sub optimal. I cope. I am mom. It's what I do.
Morning coffee, all alone
It's just about 7 am, on a weekend, Saturday to be exact, and it's quiet. All I hear are the clicks from my iPad as I type, and the tocks from the clock on the wall. This is the time I like best, and hate most of all. While I savor the serenity before all hell breaks loose, I also feel alone and bored. I know I can't have it all, but damn it, I can have my fantasy can't I? My solitude is broken for a moment by the nasal featurings of the hubby and son who occupy the space that was, at one point, my place of slumber. Oh great, I hear thump, thump, thump, cough, cough. Someone will be joining me shortly. Sigh...weekends used to be a time for me to sleep past 6:30 am, but that all changed 7.5 years ago and have disappeared into the abyss. I LOVE being a mom, and when I became one for the first time at 36, I was considered by the doctor as one of "Adavanced Maternal Age". What a blow to the psyche! That small person is the love of my life and I wouldn't trade my status as mom for ANYTHING. The silence has been broken by a "Good morning mama" and a toot for good measure. He's his father's son! The day is poised to start, and I am reminded of what is wonderful in my life and I should just roll with it. Resistance is futile and just plain stupid. Good morning world!
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