Lately, I've been feeling this new feeling. It's quite jarring, and comes about me so quickly that I sometimes have to catch my breath. I'll hear a song that I really like, particularly the Paramore song that was in Twilight, and I'll remember the book and movie and get really sad. It's like, suddenly I am aware that I am no longer young. Suddenly, I realize that chapter in my life is totally over and, while I love my life, I am really sad. I'm not really cool anymore, not wild anymore...I'm someone's mom. Even if I wanted to be cool, I'm still (and this hurts) old. I have spent so much time waiting to be a full fledged adult, and longing to be treated with respect as one, and not just some dumb teenager or young kid...and now. Wow. Suddenly, I wish to go back. I wish to shirk all responsibility and just be.
Alas, stress rears its ugly head in the form of nostalgia for the times when stress was...what party to go to after work.
I've been trying to have a quiet, stress free christmas. But it isn't. For some reason, I just can't get all my shopping done and it's really annoying that it's never ending. I love Taylor, but taking her christmas shopping is the most frustrating thing ever. I want to run around, here and there, in and out, quickly selecting things. Not so much with her. There are diapers to be changed, she eats a lot more than me, walks very slow, in and out of the car lugging the diaper bag, and finding a cart, and trying to maneuver a cart through crowded stores. When she's not with me, I'm usually with Sabrina, which slows me down because we get talking and walking and eating lunch.
Nothing about my time since coming home has been in any way organized or efficient. I try to maintain order, deal with the clutter. I am just so tired of doing it all by myself. I find myself up until at least midnight every single night and the same three baskets of laundry still sit in the living room. They're half folded because Taylor literally undoes everything I do. If I put it away, she pulls it out and then proceeds to scatter it throughout the entire house. If I fold it, she unfolds it and throws it on the floor. If I put the dog food in the bowl on the floor, she scatters it all over the floor. I spend my entire day running around behind her scolding and teaching and cleaning up. Otherwise, she is attached to my leg crying and whining to be picked up or throwing herself on the floor in frustration at "no more cookies." It seems as though she has suddenly become a negative, tantrum throwing, reaching and grabbing, climbing, angry, irritating toddler. I don't know when or why it happened, but it surely did.
We are going to Marzano's for dinner on Wednesday, and I am actually paying Darina to watch her for a few more hours so I can enjoy a dinner without her. I don't enjoy eating out with her. If she sits down, she must eat immediately, and when she is done...we better be done.
Saturday, Rylee and I went to cheesecake factory for lunch. We were sat in one of those tables that's half booth, half chairs. They are close together, and offer little privacy or protection from bread throwing toddlers. Thank goodness the couple next to us was understanding. The part that mortified me was when they received their slices of cheesecake covered in whipped cream. Taylor took her spoon and reached towards it saying "peese?" "peese?" I cringed and apologized to the man while pulling her back in and trying to explain that it wasn't her cheesecake. He took his spoon and gave her some whipped cream. She was thrilled, and I wanted to just melt into my chair and disappear. Then, loving it, she said "more?" "more?" I could have cried. Despite all efforts to explain that hers was coming and to leave him alone, I did not prevail. He gave her a few spoonfuls, thinking she was adorable. I just found it totally innappropriate and mortifying. I know my father would have lost it. I can see the look in his eyes now.
I was also kind of annoyed that he gave in to her, because I want to teach her that other people's food is not for her; but I was totally unsure of what to say in the situation. Next time, I will (falsely) explain that she is lactose intolerant or allergic to whatever it is they have.
I also think that not writing my blog regularly has contributed to my stress. I need the outlet. It makes me feel a lot better to write about everything, especially my single mommy frustrations. I have to give my hats off to those mothers that do this for years on end. I can't imagine what I would do if it was just me...gulp...for-e-ver (see the Sandlot for proper pronunciation of forever).
Tomorrow, I am off, and Darina is not. I will shop and finish my last minute things, eat honey baked ham sandwiches for lunch, and enjoy my toddler free time. I love you Taylor, and can't wait to miss you tomorrow!
Monday, December 21, 2009
20Dec2009 - Day 135
At least ten dozen cookies, of two different varieties, 84 mini cheesecakes (involving twice baking, and twice chilling, then topping), 3 full baskets of laundry, recycling day, litterbox cleaning day, trash going out day, house totally cluttered by toys....later. (oh, and a spaghetti casserole, and a trip to the commissary and the bank)
exhaustion.
goodnight.
exhaustion.
goodnight.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
15Dec2009 - Day 130
Today was one of those super challenging days. Last night, Darina called to say that she was taking her husband to the airport today to return to Iraq and that she needed the day off. It was really short notice, but I understand that she didn't realize the gravity of her feelings until the time of reckoning was upon her. So, I asked both Rylee and Sabrina but both were working; which is crappy because usually they are both off on Tuesdays. (well, every day for preggers Rylee) So, I reluctantly told Darina that I needed backup care, which meant that she'd find another caregiver in their system with an available infant slot for Taylor. I have never used backup care, and was super nervous about having to take Taylor to some woman's home for the day whom I'd never met. Granted, she was certified and regulated by the same people as Darina; but I had never met her. I got her contact information from Darina when I got a call about work. Apparently, they were going to schedule another bartender with me on Thursday and Friday at noon. Great, another uncomfortable conversation to have tomorrow at work. I don't mind having someone there with me from 12-2 when they were possibly needed; but I know there is no need for 2 of us from 2-4 and I surely didn't work and pay my dues to be cut early and lose money during the holiday season. Needless to say, today was not looking good.
I woke up, and we made our way to the house of the sitter for the day. Good first impression of her, and Taylor barely said goodbye to me as she played with the other two little girls that were there.
At work, I was reassured that I wouldn't be the one to leave early, if there was leaving early to be done, and I began the day feeling much better. It was busy, for sure, but a good and smooth pace ensued and before I knew it happy hour was upon us. As I knew it would, we slowed quite a bit at around 2 and I got to thinking about Thursday with a touch of dread.
Around this time, a keg blew and I was running long on a dessert. I went to check on the dessert to find it sitting in the window, ticket laid under it waiting to be taken. I lost it a bit, because the food runner was right there filling up the condiments. She thought it had been taken care of. I went to change the keg while she scooped ice cream to take the dessert to the guest at the bar. As I changed the keg, I tapped it incorrectly and beer went all over me. My face, hair, neck and chest were covered in beer. It had sprayed in my eyes so I couldn't open them for a second and so I stood there, laughing at myself and dripping beer all over the cooler.
I gathered myself together, wiped off the beer and made my way back to the bar. The guest happily indulged and the food runner told me that the server that was supposed to take the dessert said that I should be able to run my own food. I smirked and thought about what I was going to say to her when she came to get her next drink. Technically, I am not supposed to leave the bar. Also, don't say you are going to do something, and then not do it or not tell anyone you didn't do it. The only person who really suffers is the guest. And the guest is my business, and that's not alright with me. She screwed with my business and my money.
So, when she came to get her next drink, as I was making it I said calmly, quietly but sternly that because of her, my guest's experience had suffered and that I didn't appreciate her laziness and smug attitude about knowing my job so well. She played dumb, of course. When she walked into the kitchen (directly behind the bar) I heard her yelling. Servers began to come out, wide-eyed, and looking at me. Some came over and laughed, asking me what she'd done and why she was yelling about being dimed out to me. I guess she was asking who told me that she'd done that. After her tirade, she went to cry and I didn't feel bad.
Rarely, if ever, have I made someone cry (other than Dana, as an evil older sister when I was much younger) and not felt awful. This time, she had made her own bed. I wasn't insulting to her as a person, nor was I mean in the way that I let her know I wasn't happy with her behavior. If she didn't want to be called out on not doing her job, she should have done her job. Either way, it was a very trying day and I was definitely ready to leave when my time to leave came.
I picked up Taylor, who had refused to nap but was in good spirits nonetheless, and we headed home. She'd done well, and really enjoyed the girls and the puppy.
In the car, I decided it was sushi tonight, mostly because I was so emotionally and mentally drained. As I pulled upto the sushi place by our house, I glanced in the backseat to decide if she could handle a restaurant or if take-out was a better option. She was totally out, mouth hanging open and almost snoring. Take out it was. I ordered quickly, happy that the entire place was one big window and I was parked right in front, and asked them to bring it to the car so I could wait with her.
My sushi and mongolian chicken was great, and it was odd to eat it and have Taylor upstairs snoozing away. I went up to her room at six, so I could wake her up. I entered quietly, and went over to the bed. I started to take her boots off (I'd left them on for fear of waking her earlier) and this stirred her. She seemed definitely not happy about being woken up, and was trying really hard to open her eyes, but they didn't seem to want to cooperate. Poor, exhausted baby.
Eventually, her mind won out over her eyes and she climbed into my arms to cuddle.
That was when it started. She was beyond cranky. Downstairs, I tried to offer her some dinner and she threw the biggest tantrum I've ever seen her throw shouting about wanting "nack!nack" (snack) when she saw the bag of marshmallow candies that grammy had sent. She was literally walking around the house cry/yelling. It was strange, like an angry snarl that sometimes turned into a yelling about something or a throwing of oneself onto the floor or some real actual crying. This lasted for the next hour, and no answer I offered was right. I set her food and drink on the coffee table for her to nibble on if she so chose, and went about wrapping presents. She was distraught. Throwing herself at my feet, and angrily crying at me, she gave her best attempt. I remained calm, and explained that I understood how she felt, but she didn't want comfort either.
Poor thing.
Eventually, I won by offering yogurt and we sat on the couch while I fed it to her. Occasionally, she'd get up and walk around crying for a minute. But, eventually, she'd come back for more sudu. After the sudu, we cuddled for awhile. Finally, it was late enough for a bath and upstairs we went. Seeming to be in better spirits, she puttered around while I drew her bath. All went well, until I had to cut her nails after the bath. She fought and fought, but I won (mostly). It's no professional manicure, but at least her nails aren't talons anymore. She relaxed quickly with her bobble (bottle), and attempted no protest when I placed her in her crib and told her "night night".
It feels like today was definitely a challenge in assertiveness, and going with the flow...two things I'm not great at; but getting much better with each day. I feel like if today had happened a year or two ago, I wouldn't have handled it so well. I'd probably be crying in frustration right now, feeling self-pitying and victimized. Instead, I feel a fight in me that I never knew I had. Yeah, that's right. I'm bad. Be scared, very scared.
Tomorrow is a new day...tomorrow is a new day!
I woke up, and we made our way to the house of the sitter for the day. Good first impression of her, and Taylor barely said goodbye to me as she played with the other two little girls that were there.
At work, I was reassured that I wouldn't be the one to leave early, if there was leaving early to be done, and I began the day feeling much better. It was busy, for sure, but a good and smooth pace ensued and before I knew it happy hour was upon us. As I knew it would, we slowed quite a bit at around 2 and I got to thinking about Thursday with a touch of dread.
Around this time, a keg blew and I was running long on a dessert. I went to check on the dessert to find it sitting in the window, ticket laid under it waiting to be taken. I lost it a bit, because the food runner was right there filling up the condiments. She thought it had been taken care of. I went to change the keg while she scooped ice cream to take the dessert to the guest at the bar. As I changed the keg, I tapped it incorrectly and beer went all over me. My face, hair, neck and chest were covered in beer. It had sprayed in my eyes so I couldn't open them for a second and so I stood there, laughing at myself and dripping beer all over the cooler.
I gathered myself together, wiped off the beer and made my way back to the bar. The guest happily indulged and the food runner told me that the server that was supposed to take the dessert said that I should be able to run my own food. I smirked and thought about what I was going to say to her when she came to get her next drink. Technically, I am not supposed to leave the bar. Also, don't say you are going to do something, and then not do it or not tell anyone you didn't do it. The only person who really suffers is the guest. And the guest is my business, and that's not alright with me. She screwed with my business and my money.
So, when she came to get her next drink, as I was making it I said calmly, quietly but sternly that because of her, my guest's experience had suffered and that I didn't appreciate her laziness and smug attitude about knowing my job so well. She played dumb, of course. When she walked into the kitchen (directly behind the bar) I heard her yelling. Servers began to come out, wide-eyed, and looking at me. Some came over and laughed, asking me what she'd done and why she was yelling about being dimed out to me. I guess she was asking who told me that she'd done that. After her tirade, she went to cry and I didn't feel bad.
Rarely, if ever, have I made someone cry (other than Dana, as an evil older sister when I was much younger) and not felt awful. This time, she had made her own bed. I wasn't insulting to her as a person, nor was I mean in the way that I let her know I wasn't happy with her behavior. If she didn't want to be called out on not doing her job, she should have done her job. Either way, it was a very trying day and I was definitely ready to leave when my time to leave came.
I picked up Taylor, who had refused to nap but was in good spirits nonetheless, and we headed home. She'd done well, and really enjoyed the girls and the puppy.
In the car, I decided it was sushi tonight, mostly because I was so emotionally and mentally drained. As I pulled upto the sushi place by our house, I glanced in the backseat to decide if she could handle a restaurant or if take-out was a better option. She was totally out, mouth hanging open and almost snoring. Take out it was. I ordered quickly, happy that the entire place was one big window and I was parked right in front, and asked them to bring it to the car so I could wait with her.
My sushi and mongolian chicken was great, and it was odd to eat it and have Taylor upstairs snoozing away. I went up to her room at six, so I could wake her up. I entered quietly, and went over to the bed. I started to take her boots off (I'd left them on for fear of waking her earlier) and this stirred her. She seemed definitely not happy about being woken up, and was trying really hard to open her eyes, but they didn't seem to want to cooperate. Poor, exhausted baby.
Eventually, her mind won out over her eyes and she climbed into my arms to cuddle.
That was when it started. She was beyond cranky. Downstairs, I tried to offer her some dinner and she threw the biggest tantrum I've ever seen her throw shouting about wanting "nack!nack" (snack) when she saw the bag of marshmallow candies that grammy had sent. She was literally walking around the house cry/yelling. It was strange, like an angry snarl that sometimes turned into a yelling about something or a throwing of oneself onto the floor or some real actual crying. This lasted for the next hour, and no answer I offered was right. I set her food and drink on the coffee table for her to nibble on if she so chose, and went about wrapping presents. She was distraught. Throwing herself at my feet, and angrily crying at me, she gave her best attempt. I remained calm, and explained that I understood how she felt, but she didn't want comfort either.
Poor thing.
Eventually, I won by offering yogurt and we sat on the couch while I fed it to her. Occasionally, she'd get up and walk around crying for a minute. But, eventually, she'd come back for more sudu. After the sudu, we cuddled for awhile. Finally, it was late enough for a bath and upstairs we went. Seeming to be in better spirits, she puttered around while I drew her bath. All went well, until I had to cut her nails after the bath. She fought and fought, but I won (mostly). It's no professional manicure, but at least her nails aren't talons anymore. She relaxed quickly with her bobble (bottle), and attempted no protest when I placed her in her crib and told her "night night".
It feels like today was definitely a challenge in assertiveness, and going with the flow...two things I'm not great at; but getting much better with each day. I feel like if today had happened a year or two ago, I wouldn't have handled it so well. I'd probably be crying in frustration right now, feeling self-pitying and victimized. Instead, I feel a fight in me that I never knew I had. Yeah, that's right. I'm bad. Be scared, very scared.
Tomorrow is a new day...tomorrow is a new day!
14Dec2009 - Day 129
Oh, heavenly snow day! I woke up, to icy streets and half covered in ice/snow grass. I checked online for the Little Gym number and called. Happily greeted by a message that explained that the gym was opening two hours late, like the Puyallup school district, I cheered for not having to rush to get there. While Taylor puttered around, eating breakfast, throwing toys about the entire downstairs and occasionally checking in on Disney Playhouse on TV, I coveted the extra time for wrapping presents that must be sent to Maryland.
Gift cards, next year. I swear it!
We scooped up Sabrina, grabbed her a coffee at the stand near their house - as per our usual Monday morning M.O. At the Little Gym, we walked in to a lobby of children that looked just a little bit too old to be in Taylor's birdies class. The instructor we usually had looked up from the desk and informed us that two hours late meant that they started with the class that began two hours late. Oh, well. I really found the message unclear on that. To my ease of mind, there was another girl and her parents that came as well. At least I wasn't the only idiot. We attended the beasties class and it was great. The kids were 2ish and full of energy, bounding from one thing to another, listening and understanding the instructor, jumping and running. It was cool. Taylor loved the energy level. They pulled out this huge inflatable thing, and all the kids piled on top with the instructor. Taylor spent her time running as fast as she could until she fell on her face, giggling, and then doing it all over again. The best part was when the instructor had all the kids jump. Oh, hilariosity! Of course, Taylor can't jump yet. But did that stop her? No way, Jose!
Her entire body jumped, except her feet. She looked more like a headbanger, baby mullet flying around behind her head as her arms flailed futilely and her body dipped and and rose with such intensity it looked as though her feet might just leave the ground. Alas, no. They did not.
Sabrina and I were laughing so hard, we almost cried. (Later, at the Delmos we got some of these antics on video, but the fervor wasn't quite as intense as the Little Gym.)
That night, we had dinner at the Delmos with Mom Delmo and her Rick. She loved Taylor, and had a great time. After dinner, due to a shorter than usual nap, Taylor was super duper cranky. No one would do but mommy, which was to the disdain of Aunt Sabrina and Uncle Delmo. Sabrina thought it was spoiling her to give in to her request for me "every time." LOL. I don't get angry when she reacts with intolerance to Taylor's behavior, I just hope that they read and learn about child development before they have a little cranky pants 17 month old of their own. I don't believe that by granting her request to cuddle with me when she's exhausted, I am spoiling her. If she were very clingy, antisocial or scared regularly, I'd be concerned. But, she isn't. Sometimes, you just need your momma.
Gift cards, next year. I swear it!
We scooped up Sabrina, grabbed her a coffee at the stand near their house - as per our usual Monday morning M.O. At the Little Gym, we walked in to a lobby of children that looked just a little bit too old to be in Taylor's birdies class. The instructor we usually had looked up from the desk and informed us that two hours late meant that they started with the class that began two hours late. Oh, well. I really found the message unclear on that. To my ease of mind, there was another girl and her parents that came as well. At least I wasn't the only idiot. We attended the beasties class and it was great. The kids were 2ish and full of energy, bounding from one thing to another, listening and understanding the instructor, jumping and running. It was cool. Taylor loved the energy level. They pulled out this huge inflatable thing, and all the kids piled on top with the instructor. Taylor spent her time running as fast as she could until she fell on her face, giggling, and then doing it all over again. The best part was when the instructor had all the kids jump. Oh, hilariosity! Of course, Taylor can't jump yet. But did that stop her? No way, Jose!
Her entire body jumped, except her feet. She looked more like a headbanger, baby mullet flying around behind her head as her arms flailed futilely and her body dipped and and rose with such intensity it looked as though her feet might just leave the ground. Alas, no. They did not.
Sabrina and I were laughing so hard, we almost cried. (Later, at the Delmos we got some of these antics on video, but the fervor wasn't quite as intense as the Little Gym.)
That night, we had dinner at the Delmos with Mom Delmo and her Rick. She loved Taylor, and had a great time. After dinner, due to a shorter than usual nap, Taylor was super duper cranky. No one would do but mommy, which was to the disdain of Aunt Sabrina and Uncle Delmo. Sabrina thought it was spoiling her to give in to her request for me "every time." LOL. I don't get angry when she reacts with intolerance to Taylor's behavior, I just hope that they read and learn about child development before they have a little cranky pants 17 month old of their own. I don't believe that by granting her request to cuddle with me when she's exhausted, I am spoiling her. If she were very clingy, antisocial or scared regularly, I'd be concerned. But, she isn't. Sometimes, you just need your momma.
13Dec2009 - Day 128
Sunday. Went to lunch with Rylee, which was awesome! We missed her yesterday on our Rylee day. Taylor wasn't on her best behavior, but also not her worst. Afterwards, we went home for naptime and then as Taylor was waking up and we were getting ready to get into the car for the commissary...it started to snow!
She saw snow last year, but obviously, not really. This was the first time she'd seen it. It was super adorable because she seemed really fascinated for a few moments by the huge fat flakes slowly drifting down to the ground and then proclaimed, "Bubbles!" Love it!
I taught her how to catch them in her mouth, which I think she really didn't get, but liked to stick out her tongue. We saught refuge from the deluge of flakes in the car, and off to the commissary we went.
It was packed, as usual. But, we managed to get all the baking needs on our list and made our way to checkout. As per her usual proclamations, everything in the produce section was an "apple" and the rest of everything in the store was "mine." She is really turning into quite a proclaimer. Everything. Is. Taylor's. (In case you weren't sure, I thought I should clarify.)
It was still snowing when we emerged from the commissary, and I drove us home enjoying the flakes seemingly flying sideways at warp speed into the windshield.
At home, it was a flurry of baking and cranky baby insisting on being involved in every single step of the process. Needless to say, the kitchen ended up quite trashed and a few cookies made their way into greedy toddler hands and then mostly Sadie's mouth.
I had Taylor standing on a chair to help me, which seemed to go well until I had to move about the kitchen. She'd fuss if I didn't drag the chair and bring her along with me. It was great except for the dishes part. Hands sticking into the sink, pulling things out. Oh, toddler child. How I long for the day when you sat in your bouncy chair watching me contentedly from the counter, no idea that you could reach out and grab anything...
I ended up cleaning up, and working on laundry until 1 in the morning. Oh, holidays. How I long for the day when I was so young and they just seemed to make themselves happen!
She saw snow last year, but obviously, not really. This was the first time she'd seen it. It was super adorable because she seemed really fascinated for a few moments by the huge fat flakes slowly drifting down to the ground and then proclaimed, "Bubbles!" Love it!
I taught her how to catch them in her mouth, which I think she really didn't get, but liked to stick out her tongue. We saught refuge from the deluge of flakes in the car, and off to the commissary we went.
It was packed, as usual. But, we managed to get all the baking needs on our list and made our way to checkout. As per her usual proclamations, everything in the produce section was an "apple" and the rest of everything in the store was "mine." She is really turning into quite a proclaimer. Everything. Is. Taylor's. (In case you weren't sure, I thought I should clarify.)
It was still snowing when we emerged from the commissary, and I drove us home enjoying the flakes seemingly flying sideways at warp speed into the windshield.
At home, it was a flurry of baking and cranky baby insisting on being involved in every single step of the process. Needless to say, the kitchen ended up quite trashed and a few cookies made their way into greedy toddler hands and then mostly Sadie's mouth.
I had Taylor standing on a chair to help me, which seemed to go well until I had to move about the kitchen. She'd fuss if I didn't drag the chair and bring her along with me. It was great except for the dishes part. Hands sticking into the sink, pulling things out. Oh, toddler child. How I long for the day when you sat in your bouncy chair watching me contentedly from the counter, no idea that you could reach out and grab anything...
I ended up cleaning up, and working on laundry until 1 in the morning. Oh, holidays. How I long for the day when I was so young and they just seemed to make themselves happen!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
12Dec2009 - Day 127
Oh, my aching, pounding headache...I don't know what it's from; but it's been plaguing me since...the Imagination Movers concert. lol. I have to say that there were definitely a few things I hadn't counted on in regards to the concert. One: It was really really loud. At the beginning, it really scared Taylor and she cried when there were even louder, abrupt noises. It took quite awhile for her to enjoy the noise. Two: She didn't really get it. I don't know if she was a touch to young to put together that these extremely loud people were the same ones that she danced to at home.
With all the noise, and the lights and people; she did spend most of the concert with fingers in mouth and sitting on my lap. It was only when I discovered that she could sit next to me on the aisle step and really bop and have fun, that she started having fun. She really got into it, and scooched her way over to the girl (about 7? at most) across the aisle to cozy up next to her and make friends and dance.
I definitely had a blast, and would totally do it again; especially since it seems the prime age was 3-6 as far as the enjoyment level of the other kids I saw. There were lots of children that were Taylor's age; most of them equally as distraught at the beginning as she was. On a plus note, I got a parking space on the very corner that the theater was on and the machine was broken that was supposed to take our money to pay, so I parked for free. As we were leaving, however, there was a guy walking around ticketing cars. But I hightailed it out of there as quickly as possible.
After the concert, we went to eat at Panera and hit up the Nordy's Rack and Kohl's at Southcenter. Panera went well, and Taylor was famished from all the chaos and crazy dancing in the aisle, so she ate her mac and cheese without hesitation. Nordy's had nothing we were looking for, so then we headed to Kohl's. As we were walking in, I in my heeled-over-the-skinny-jeans-boots, carrying Taylor and her backpack diaper bag, attempted to quickly scurry over one of the parking lot "islands" and failed. I was holding her, and as I stepped down to the pavement to cross over to the store's entrance, I fell. I didn't fall quickly, or easily, or painlessly, or gracefully. I fell in slow motion, as my ankle gave out and left knee hit first, attempting not to drop Taylor in the middle of the road, fighting the whole way down not to actually fall down. But no. She was fine, but I fell on both knees, and the backpack went flying. It was awful. And it hurt. There was a car coming, and saw me fall. All I got was an impatient "go ahead" wave. What a douche. Humiliated, I hobbled into the store with my left knee more than aching. Upon further inspection at home later, I discovered a huge gash on it and some blood on the inside of my almost ripped apart at the knee jeans. What a spill! Inside, and on a mission to buy shoes that didn't make me bite it (which I found none), we made our way to the baby section. Jumping beans, a brand carried only by Kohl's, was on sale. They are super cheap ($4.99 per piece) and are a huge section of interchangable leggings, jeans, tops, and fleeces. I love it. It's the perfect stuff to send her to daycare in. She is growing out of all of her 12 month clothes, so she was in need of some new pants. Satisfied with our purchases, and having difficulty walking; we left and proceeded to Target. A few undisclosable-on-the-blog gifts later, and scalding bottle in hand (thank you Starbucks for the hot water), we sat in the car in the Target parking lot for awhile while the bottle cooled. I opened it up, and held my hand out of the window. 38 degrees outside took about ten minutes to get the bottle to drinkable temp before we headed home.
I feel like today was about learning. I learned not to wear heeled boots for shopping. I learned that Taylor is a little too young for some things, and to relax and enjoy the age that she is. I learned that I am too old for such loud concerts. Lastly, I learned that grand marnier is a great headache taker-away-er. =)
With all the noise, and the lights and people; she did spend most of the concert with fingers in mouth and sitting on my lap. It was only when I discovered that she could sit next to me on the aisle step and really bop and have fun, that she started having fun. She really got into it, and scooched her way over to the girl (about 7? at most) across the aisle to cozy up next to her and make friends and dance.
I definitely had a blast, and would totally do it again; especially since it seems the prime age was 3-6 as far as the enjoyment level of the other kids I saw. There were lots of children that were Taylor's age; most of them equally as distraught at the beginning as she was. On a plus note, I got a parking space on the very corner that the theater was on and the machine was broken that was supposed to take our money to pay, so I parked for free. As we were leaving, however, there was a guy walking around ticketing cars. But I hightailed it out of there as quickly as possible.
After the concert, we went to eat at Panera and hit up the Nordy's Rack and Kohl's at Southcenter. Panera went well, and Taylor was famished from all the chaos and crazy dancing in the aisle, so she ate her mac and cheese without hesitation. Nordy's had nothing we were looking for, so then we headed to Kohl's. As we were walking in, I in my heeled-over-the-skinny-jeans-boots, carrying Taylor and her backpack diaper bag, attempted to quickly scurry over one of the parking lot "islands" and failed. I was holding her, and as I stepped down to the pavement to cross over to the store's entrance, I fell. I didn't fall quickly, or easily, or painlessly, or gracefully. I fell in slow motion, as my ankle gave out and left knee hit first, attempting not to drop Taylor in the middle of the road, fighting the whole way down not to actually fall down. But no. She was fine, but I fell on both knees, and the backpack went flying. It was awful. And it hurt. There was a car coming, and saw me fall. All I got was an impatient "go ahead" wave. What a douche. Humiliated, I hobbled into the store with my left knee more than aching. Upon further inspection at home later, I discovered a huge gash on it and some blood on the inside of my almost ripped apart at the knee jeans. What a spill! Inside, and on a mission to buy shoes that didn't make me bite it (which I found none), we made our way to the baby section. Jumping beans, a brand carried only by Kohl's, was on sale. They are super cheap ($4.99 per piece) and are a huge section of interchangable leggings, jeans, tops, and fleeces. I love it. It's the perfect stuff to send her to daycare in. She is growing out of all of her 12 month clothes, so she was in need of some new pants. Satisfied with our purchases, and having difficulty walking; we left and proceeded to Target. A few undisclosable-on-the-blog gifts later, and scalding bottle in hand (thank you Starbucks for the hot water), we sat in the car in the Target parking lot for awhile while the bottle cooled. I opened it up, and held my hand out of the window. 38 degrees outside took about ten minutes to get the bottle to drinkable temp before we headed home.
I feel like today was about learning. I learned not to wear heeled boots for shopping. I learned that Taylor is a little too young for some things, and to relax and enjoy the age that she is. I learned that I am too old for such loud concerts. Lastly, I learned that grand marnier is a great headache taker-away-er. =)
Friday, December 11, 2009
11Dec2009 - Day 126
Ah, the Phineas and Ferb christmas special playing in the background. The fireplace warming the house. The gifts sitting on the counter...unwrapped and refusing to wrap themselves. Ugh.
I hope a lot of things for Taylor. And some of them are selfish. I hope she feels certain things about me when she's older. I picture her talking to her friends in college, over coffee at some patchouli and coffee smelling coffee shop near her campus during December finals. I picture them talking about their homes during the holidays, in anticipation of coming home for Christmas. I hope there are certain things she says about me, with love and respect and admiration. I hope that when I bake cookies every year, and make brunch on Christmas mornings that she remembers that with nostalgia. I always remember the jammies on Christmas eve, the sausage and cheese biscuits for breakfast, Mom and Scott waking us up at 5 am when we were older and wanting to sleep in, calling Uncle Bill every single year at the crack of dawn and waking him up, the fruit at the bottom of the stocking that no one ever ate or wanted, the awesome amount of baked goods that mom whipped up for an entire month, how there were always piles of presents, even during a "hard" year, the fact that she always gave presents to her coworkers and really took time to think of good ones...
What will Taylor remember about me? What will our traditions be? Will she think wistfully about homemade eggnog (dare I try it? lol), or the best french toast casserole for brunch (her gram's recipe), or those delicious cinnamon nut diamonds (her nanny's recipe), or that rich and delicious fudge that her grammy makes? Will she remember daddy and Uncle Delmo watching the Christmas Day football game? Will she think of driving around and looking at the christmas lights? Whatever it is, I hope that Christmas for her is everything that it is for me. I hope it holds all the magic and wonder and joy for her that it does for me. I hope it's about so much more than what she gets from Santa.
I have always been a person that looks forward to things, that gets excited a lot. With Taylor in my life, that feeling is truly multiplied by a trillion. I really look forward to this Christmas with her, and the next one, and the next one....Every day is magical and a new opportunity to make memories. Every day is truly extraordinary with her. I can't wait for Adam to come home and be able to experience the every day. For now, to him, we are just this fantasy. We are his family a billion miles away, and we are idealized. But, don't worry baby. The sticking of hands in toilet water and then into her mouth (like this morning), the tasting of dog treats before handing them to Sadie, the downright throwing of herself onto the floor in protest of water going into her juice cup...it's all going to be great. And frustrating, all at once. Just thinking of her awkwardness in trying to fit herself in between the legs of the stool and getting stuck, and walking around in just one of my heels on the wrong foot, and dipping her spoon into yogurt and then chicken soup all in one bite and thoroughly enjoying it...the stuff that dreams are made of....
I hope a lot of things for Taylor. And some of them are selfish. I hope she feels certain things about me when she's older. I picture her talking to her friends in college, over coffee at some patchouli and coffee smelling coffee shop near her campus during December finals. I picture them talking about their homes during the holidays, in anticipation of coming home for Christmas. I hope there are certain things she says about me, with love and respect and admiration. I hope that when I bake cookies every year, and make brunch on Christmas mornings that she remembers that with nostalgia. I always remember the jammies on Christmas eve, the sausage and cheese biscuits for breakfast, Mom and Scott waking us up at 5 am when we were older and wanting to sleep in, calling Uncle Bill every single year at the crack of dawn and waking him up, the fruit at the bottom of the stocking that no one ever ate or wanted, the awesome amount of baked goods that mom whipped up for an entire month, how there were always piles of presents, even during a "hard" year, the fact that she always gave presents to her coworkers and really took time to think of good ones...
What will Taylor remember about me? What will our traditions be? Will she think wistfully about homemade eggnog (dare I try it? lol), or the best french toast casserole for brunch (her gram's recipe), or those delicious cinnamon nut diamonds (her nanny's recipe), or that rich and delicious fudge that her grammy makes? Will she remember daddy and Uncle Delmo watching the Christmas Day football game? Will she think of driving around and looking at the christmas lights? Whatever it is, I hope that Christmas for her is everything that it is for me. I hope it holds all the magic and wonder and joy for her that it does for me. I hope it's about so much more than what she gets from Santa.
I have always been a person that looks forward to things, that gets excited a lot. With Taylor in my life, that feeling is truly multiplied by a trillion. I really look forward to this Christmas with her, and the next one, and the next one....Every day is magical and a new opportunity to make memories. Every day is truly extraordinary with her. I can't wait for Adam to come home and be able to experience the every day. For now, to him, we are just this fantasy. We are his family a billion miles away, and we are idealized. But, don't worry baby. The sticking of hands in toilet water and then into her mouth (like this morning), the tasting of dog treats before handing them to Sadie, the downright throwing of herself onto the floor in protest of water going into her juice cup...it's all going to be great. And frustrating, all at once. Just thinking of her awkwardness in trying to fit herself in between the legs of the stool and getting stuck, and walking around in just one of my heels on the wrong foot, and dipping her spoon into yogurt and then chicken soup all in one bite and thoroughly enjoying it...the stuff that dreams are made of....
10Dec2009 - Day 125
Still working on a lot of my presents, which I won't get into details about in here in case some of the recipients are reading the blog. I doubt it, but I wouldn't want to ruin their presents. Let's just say that every year seems to get more and more involved. Projects, christmas cards, pictures, wrapping all the crap I bought, shipping it (or packing it) across the country. Every year I swear off actual gifts and say I'll only get gift cards next year. But, I truly enjoy trying to find good gifts for people. I don't think I've ever been a good gift giver, so I'm trying really hard to become a giver. Perhaps, I've always been more of a taker? I don't really like that, and would rather be known as a giver. I really want to get things people like.
It all started one year with my gift for mom. It was a disney snow globe. I thought it was the cat's pajamas. I thought she'd love it, because when I'd lived with her she'd been obsessed over them. But, as she opened it, she looked as though she was going to cry. I could read the dissappointment in her eyes. Her eyes were crying out "She doesn't know me at all!" She never said anything, but I know she hated it. She hadn't been into those in years. Since that moment, I've never wanted to see that expression again. I was devastated. It was a horrible gift, and I never want to give a horrible gift again. Mostly, I was really upset at how it made her feel.
So, this year I've sort of agonized and tried to pay attention really closely to what people are saying that they want. And of course, who is the most difficult one? Who is the only one who doesn't want anything? Mom. But, I've got a great idea that I hope she truly loves. I know she hasn't grown out of this gift yet, and probably won't for some time!
It all started one year with my gift for mom. It was a disney snow globe. I thought it was the cat's pajamas. I thought she'd love it, because when I'd lived with her she'd been obsessed over them. But, as she opened it, she looked as though she was going to cry. I could read the dissappointment in her eyes. Her eyes were crying out "She doesn't know me at all!" She never said anything, but I know she hated it. She hadn't been into those in years. Since that moment, I've never wanted to see that expression again. I was devastated. It was a horrible gift, and I never want to give a horrible gift again. Mostly, I was really upset at how it made her feel.
So, this year I've sort of agonized and tried to pay attention really closely to what people are saying that they want. And of course, who is the most difficult one? Who is the only one who doesn't want anything? Mom. But, I've got a great idea that I hope she truly loves. I know she hasn't grown out of this gift yet, and probably won't for some time!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
9Dec2009 - Day 124
Today was the day after the memorial at the Tacoma Dome. We were super slow at work yesterday because of the memorial, kind of the opposite of what the managers thought we would be. But, I knew today would be different. And it was. We were slammin' busy. It was great. I now remember why I like bartending, and why I was so looking forward to December. It's great to be right next to the mall, too. Not for my own personal shopping, (which is funny because I rarely ever shop at this mall), but for the convenience of weary (mostly men) shoppers in need of a shot. I had two guys that were shopping today. They were sitting at the bar five minutes before we even opened, and ordered....two shots of peppermint schnappes. LOL. Two guys ordering schnappes? Hilarious. But the fact that they ordered peppermint to what? Put them in the shopping mood? Who knows why, but it amused me. Then they left and went shopping and came back for more schnappes and lunch later on. Funny thing is, they are not the only guys this week that have spent, what I would consider, valuable shopping time sitting at my bar. Most come out with as many bags as I do in a seven hour stint, which amazes me. Either way, I'm glad they chose my bar to sit and pretend to their wives that they are really shopping.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
20Nov2009 - Day 105
Call it retro-blogging, if you will. Updating the blog, oh, several weeks later.
Details get fuzzy, but the main ideas are still there.
Today TWILIGHT DAY!!!!! I woke up, anticipation already building in my stomach. I get these crazy butterflies and ridiculous anxious excitement pretty much anytime there is something to do outside of the normal routine, and today was not exception. I had to work, which was almost torturesome because it was TWILIGHT DAY!
At work, I put a note up, as I do daily about what we may be out of- for the servers reference. To today's note, I added...."Two Words- NEW MOON!" It was great, because another server and I bantered back and forth, via notes, about the movie. She is not a twilight fan. If I didn't already know and love her, she'd be out of my life for good based soley on her twi-jection. lol
After work, the crazy mad dashing around began...leave work, get taylor, get home and get ready, get taylor fed, get to Rylee's mother's house in Puyallup...it took longer than I thought because the Delmos forgot the playpen at their house. So, I stopped there to get it. Finally, we arrived at Bonnie's house. Her house is decorated in a sort of shabby chic country antiquey look. It's not my personal style, but only because I have no skill. She refinishes furniture, and is uber crafty. Her house is truly amazing. It's beautiful. Every detail is there, even down to the toilet paper holder in the bathroom. There are lots of different textures, knick knacks, lighting levels and sources, shelves full of unique things. Taylor was in heaven. She loved it. She'd stand in a room and just look around for ten minutes before even figuring out what to go touch. She took to Bonnie quickly, and we were off. A fun-filled, anxious hour in the car later, we were in Redmond. We met a few friends for dinner, Nichol, and Brit that I'd worked with at Bahama Breeze. For dinner, it was them, myself, Sabrina, Delmo, Rylee, and Clara; but Brit and her boyfriend (can't remember his name) left before the movie. We walked over to the theater, as they shared a parking lot. It was gorgeous inside.
As you walk in, there is a counter; more like a hotel concierge than a movie counter. No cheesy windows or machines spitting perforated tickets at you. To the right of the counter was an enormously large lounge area, complete with very modern decor and leather couches and a fireplace. On the left of the ticket counter was....ta-da! My movie raison d'etre! THE BAR!
Also beautifully modern, it was my first stop after the ticket counter. At the counter, I was checked in and after my credit card was taken for my tab for the night, we were escorted to the theater. The drinks that I'd ordered at the bar would follow us in!!!!
The usher sat us in our seats, and offered us a blanket and pillow, showed us where the call button was and explained how to recline our overstuffed, super comfortable and luxurious leather recliners. This was pure bliss. My $11 espresso martini arrived shortly after we were seated. Sabrina and Delmo had given me a gift card for drinks while we were there!
The movie was phenominal, made better only by the fact that I was so comfortable and a lemon meringue pie martini and banana cream pie martini. They were all unbelievably delicious.
I think this place will be my heaven when I die. I truly could not have asked for more. It was pure pampering and everything I wanted for my birthday. I'd hoped for a great drink menu when we arrived, and was truly not dissapointed. There is nothing I love more than sampling a few delicious and creative martinis. It was possibly the best birthday idea I've ever had. And, as infrequently as we go to the movies, it was totally worth the trip. The movies are now an adult oasis for me, an escape from Disney channel, poopy diapers, newly found ways to scream at innappropriate times...I appreciate fully that this theater has me in mind! No children, specialty martinis, over the top service and decor. I love it. Happy Birthday to me! and Happy TWILIGHT DAY!
Details get fuzzy, but the main ideas are still there.
Today TWILIGHT DAY!!!!! I woke up, anticipation already building in my stomach. I get these crazy butterflies and ridiculous anxious excitement pretty much anytime there is something to do outside of the normal routine, and today was not exception. I had to work, which was almost torturesome because it was TWILIGHT DAY!
At work, I put a note up, as I do daily about what we may be out of- for the servers reference. To today's note, I added...."Two Words- NEW MOON!" It was great, because another server and I bantered back and forth, via notes, about the movie. She is not a twilight fan. If I didn't already know and love her, she'd be out of my life for good based soley on her twi-jection. lol
After work, the crazy mad dashing around began...leave work, get taylor, get home and get ready, get taylor fed, get to Rylee's mother's house in Puyallup...it took longer than I thought because the Delmos forgot the playpen at their house. So, I stopped there to get it. Finally, we arrived at Bonnie's house. Her house is decorated in a sort of shabby chic country antiquey look. It's not my personal style, but only because I have no skill. She refinishes furniture, and is uber crafty. Her house is truly amazing. It's beautiful. Every detail is there, even down to the toilet paper holder in the bathroom. There are lots of different textures, knick knacks, lighting levels and sources, shelves full of unique things. Taylor was in heaven. She loved it. She'd stand in a room and just look around for ten minutes before even figuring out what to go touch. She took to Bonnie quickly, and we were off. A fun-filled, anxious hour in the car later, we were in Redmond. We met a few friends for dinner, Nichol, and Brit that I'd worked with at Bahama Breeze. For dinner, it was them, myself, Sabrina, Delmo, Rylee, and Clara; but Brit and her boyfriend (can't remember his name) left before the movie. We walked over to the theater, as they shared a parking lot. It was gorgeous inside.
As you walk in, there is a counter; more like a hotel concierge than a movie counter. No cheesy windows or machines spitting perforated tickets at you. To the right of the counter was an enormously large lounge area, complete with very modern decor and leather couches and a fireplace. On the left of the ticket counter was....ta-da! My movie raison d'etre! THE BAR!
Also beautifully modern, it was my first stop after the ticket counter. At the counter, I was checked in and after my credit card was taken for my tab for the night, we were escorted to the theater. The drinks that I'd ordered at the bar would follow us in!!!!
The usher sat us in our seats, and offered us a blanket and pillow, showed us where the call button was and explained how to recline our overstuffed, super comfortable and luxurious leather recliners. This was pure bliss. My $11 espresso martini arrived shortly after we were seated. Sabrina and Delmo had given me a gift card for drinks while we were there!
The movie was phenominal, made better only by the fact that I was so comfortable and a lemon meringue pie martini and banana cream pie martini. They were all unbelievably delicious.
I think this place will be my heaven when I die. I truly could not have asked for more. It was pure pampering and everything I wanted for my birthday. I'd hoped for a great drink menu when we arrived, and was truly not dissapointed. There is nothing I love more than sampling a few delicious and creative martinis. It was possibly the best birthday idea I've ever had. And, as infrequently as we go to the movies, it was totally worth the trip. The movies are now an adult oasis for me, an escape from Disney channel, poopy diapers, newly found ways to scream at innappropriate times...I appreciate fully that this theater has me in mind! No children, specialty martinis, over the top service and decor. I love it. Happy Birthday to me! and Happy TWILIGHT DAY!
8Dec2009 - Day 123
Well, it has been awhile. I will go back in and fill in the missing (vacation) days as I can. I am seriously going through blog withdrawals!
I'll start again as though it wasn't like a hundred days since I've written. Although, even as I write that, I am finding it hard to do that.
Not to mention that I am easily being distracted by Shark Boy and Lava Girl on Disney channel...left on from when miss wubba mayter was awake.
That, and I am looking up holiday cookie recipes...Oh, thank heaven for foodnetwork.com. Here are a few examples of why christmastime is the best time:
eggnog pie, nutella tart, peppermint bark brownies, chocolate cloud cake, limoncello cheesecake squares...need I go on? Oh, an apparently you can make eggnog from scratch. hmm. you learn something every day! Perhaps, I will try it.
I've accomplished a lot of the typical holiday tasks...I have done most of the shopping, filled out and addressed all the cards, semi-decorated the house...with newly purchased decorations of course because I really have nothing considering we haven't had a christmas here in like five years. I think I've decided that Santa will be coming to Uncle Delmo and Sabrina's house this year, because I know that on christmas morning when we wake up at home it will be great for about five minutes and then I will get really lonely and rush us back over to the Delmos anyway. Besides, that way he can be downstairs to videotape her reaction for Adam.
Speaking of which, Adam now has skype and calls me from it. They have the internet in their rooms. I even get texts from him, which is him emailing me. He sends emails to my cell number with his skype. So now, I can send him the daily Taylor picture texts! It's much better for me now that I can communicate with him. I feel like I've let a lot of anger go about everything, and a lot of worry about our reunion. Being able to talk about our expectations and negotiate things with him now is much more stress relieving than having to do it all at once when he's here.
I am also trying to decide what sort of traditions I'd like to start this year for Taylor. We always got christmas eve jammies, and I love that; so I'll do that. I plan on baking a lot, too...just like my mother did. But no coconut strawberries or fudge. Those are her things. I'll have to come up with some of my own recipes. I will make a hearty breakfast for everyone on Christmas morning, complete with various recipes from all my moms. Other than that, I got nothin'. Next year, it will be easier with Adam here. Perhaps we'll have a certain family activity that we do on Christmas Day. Who knows. But, I am looking forward to having a christmasey home and also kind of sad that we won't be with the family.
Honestly, though, with Pepeir gone and everyone's plans all up in the air I don't know what kind of holiday celebrating they'll do. No one is making plans, not any concrete ones, anyway. I know they'll all end up getting together; but it's weird that it isn't a certain thing. I feel like a few of us are glue. A few of us are the planners, the bringer togethers. Without those around, it's very different. Am I glad to not be home on this first Pepeir-less holiday? In a guiltily admitted way, yes. It will definitely be tough, for everyone. Awkward, almost. Uncomfortable. But, I am also not glad to be gone. I feel like the family needs me, to help them come together. I always insist on big family celebrations, much to the supposed chagrin of everyone. I know that sometimes they don't mean it, and sometimes they are truly scrooge mcduck. But, I hope that they'll all find a way to get together this year, and maybe make a new tradition. Unfortunately, I think that the new tradition will be not getting together. We are spreading farther and farther away, and tensions are still high from the emotional strain and stress of the last few tough months. Perhaps, a break is even healthy for everyone to regain their desire to be a close family.
Who knows. It will all play out somehow. But, I will still send my little bit of cheer the way of the east coast...in the form of presents, of couse. And Taylor pictures.
I'll start again as though it wasn't like a hundred days since I've written. Although, even as I write that, I am finding it hard to do that.
Not to mention that I am easily being distracted by Shark Boy and Lava Girl on Disney channel...left on from when miss wubba mayter was awake.
That, and I am looking up holiday cookie recipes...Oh, thank heaven for foodnetwork.com. Here are a few examples of why christmastime is the best time:
eggnog pie, nutella tart, peppermint bark brownies, chocolate cloud cake, limoncello cheesecake squares...need I go on? Oh, an apparently you can make eggnog from scratch. hmm. you learn something every day! Perhaps, I will try it.
I've accomplished a lot of the typical holiday tasks...I have done most of the shopping, filled out and addressed all the cards, semi-decorated the house...with newly purchased decorations of course because I really have nothing considering we haven't had a christmas here in like five years. I think I've decided that Santa will be coming to Uncle Delmo and Sabrina's house this year, because I know that on christmas morning when we wake up at home it will be great for about five minutes and then I will get really lonely and rush us back over to the Delmos anyway. Besides, that way he can be downstairs to videotape her reaction for Adam.
Speaking of which, Adam now has skype and calls me from it. They have the internet in their rooms. I even get texts from him, which is him emailing me. He sends emails to my cell number with his skype. So now, I can send him the daily Taylor picture texts! It's much better for me now that I can communicate with him. I feel like I've let a lot of anger go about everything, and a lot of worry about our reunion. Being able to talk about our expectations and negotiate things with him now is much more stress relieving than having to do it all at once when he's here.
I am also trying to decide what sort of traditions I'd like to start this year for Taylor. We always got christmas eve jammies, and I love that; so I'll do that. I plan on baking a lot, too...just like my mother did. But no coconut strawberries or fudge. Those are her things. I'll have to come up with some of my own recipes. I will make a hearty breakfast for everyone on Christmas morning, complete with various recipes from all my moms. Other than that, I got nothin'. Next year, it will be easier with Adam here. Perhaps we'll have a certain family activity that we do on Christmas Day. Who knows. But, I am looking forward to having a christmasey home and also kind of sad that we won't be with the family.
Honestly, though, with Pepeir gone and everyone's plans all up in the air I don't know what kind of holiday celebrating they'll do. No one is making plans, not any concrete ones, anyway. I know they'll all end up getting together; but it's weird that it isn't a certain thing. I feel like a few of us are glue. A few of us are the planners, the bringer togethers. Without those around, it's very different. Am I glad to not be home on this first Pepeir-less holiday? In a guiltily admitted way, yes. It will definitely be tough, for everyone. Awkward, almost. Uncomfortable. But, I am also not glad to be gone. I feel like the family needs me, to help them come together. I always insist on big family celebrations, much to the supposed chagrin of everyone. I know that sometimes they don't mean it, and sometimes they are truly scrooge mcduck. But, I hope that they'll all find a way to get together this year, and maybe make a new tradition. Unfortunately, I think that the new tradition will be not getting together. We are spreading farther and farther away, and tensions are still high from the emotional strain and stress of the last few tough months. Perhaps, a break is even healthy for everyone to regain their desire to be a close family.
Who knows. It will all play out somehow. But, I will still send my little bit of cheer the way of the east coast...in the form of presents, of couse. And Taylor pictures.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
19Nov2009 - Day 104
Ok, so I've broken the spacebar on the keyboard and I have to really really want to put a space in my sentences to actually get one. It's almost cool, because I can take out my frustrations with my thumb. Ok, who am I kidding? It's super annoying. Tomorrow is it! The wait is over! Tomorrow is TWILIGHT NIGHT! One of the other servers came in today and said that Gen X (a cheap clothing store) has red and gold twilight contact lenses! If my eye wasn't a mess (I think I scratched it) I would totally get some gold ones!!!
Tomorrow after work, Rylee's momma is going to get some grandbaby babysitting practice because she is sitting Taylor while we all go out to watch the movie and have dinner and cocktails! I can't wait. We are going to gold class cinemas in redmond (about an hour drive) and they are 21+ and serve drinks to you in the movie at the push of a button! OMG I can't wait.
One more year of youth left for me after that. Saturday I turn the big 2-9. LOL
I can't believe I am a full fledged adult. I don't necessarily feel like it sometimes. I guess we've come a long way, though. Adam and I are married, with a small child. We own two cars and a home, a dog, a cat, and have furnished our lives pretty nicely. I can't say it wasn't without help. Without our amazing families, we'd have nothing but each other and probably the two sofas we bought when we first got married. lol
I can't wait to see what this next year has in store. I am hoping a little less tragedy and a lot more joy and happiness. I am also truly hoping for some romance. When Adam comes home, I am vowing to have some romance. I don't just mean what I am sure everyone thinks I do. I know he's been gone awhile, but that isn't the only thing I think about. lol
Candlelit dinners, him vacuuming naked while feeding me grapes and martinis...those types of things. I just hope for our happiness.
Meanwhile, I've got a few shows to watch and a bag to pack for Miss Taylor to take to Miss Riley's mommy's house.
Tomorrow after work, Rylee's momma is going to get some grandbaby babysitting practice because she is sitting Taylor while we all go out to watch the movie and have dinner and cocktails! I can't wait. We are going to gold class cinemas in redmond (about an hour drive) and they are 21+ and serve drinks to you in the movie at the push of a button! OMG I can't wait.
One more year of youth left for me after that. Saturday I turn the big 2-9. LOL
I can't believe I am a full fledged adult. I don't necessarily feel like it sometimes. I guess we've come a long way, though. Adam and I are married, with a small child. We own two cars and a home, a dog, a cat, and have furnished our lives pretty nicely. I can't say it wasn't without help. Without our amazing families, we'd have nothing but each other and probably the two sofas we bought when we first got married. lol
I can't wait to see what this next year has in store. I am hoping a little less tragedy and a lot more joy and happiness. I am also truly hoping for some romance. When Adam comes home, I am vowing to have some romance. I don't just mean what I am sure everyone thinks I do. I know he's been gone awhile, but that isn't the only thing I think about. lol
Candlelit dinners, him vacuuming naked while feeding me grapes and martinis...those types of things. I just hope for our happiness.
Meanwhile, I've got a few shows to watch and a bag to pack for Miss Taylor to take to Miss Riley's mommy's house.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
18Nov2009 - Day 103
One of my favorite things about being a mommy is watching her discover the world. Every day, as she learns and discovers new things, I am reminded of how much there is for her to learn. I am reminded what it means to truly and thoroughly enjoy a cup of yogurt (sudu) so much that it ends up in your eyebrows, so much that you can't be discouraged from getting the last few bites out of the bottom of the yogurt cup just because you can't reach them with the spoon and take your entire four fingers and scoop them out. I rarely see the pure joy that is on her face when she eats yogurt on her or anyone's face. But, yogurt is her chocolate. Yogurt is her beer after a long day. Yogurt is her absolute favorite thing, ever. Yogurt, or sudu, rather, was the first word out of her mouth when she woke up. It's like she dreampt of it. Yogurt hums to her. I knew we were having yogurt for breakfast because she said it over and over until we came downstairs for breakfast.
She also found the stars for the first time last night. When we got out of the car, she looked up to the star filled (clear?weird!) sky and was mezmerized for a few minutes. It was very cool. Mom told me tonight that one day when I was a little tot, I had a yellow helium balloon and lost it outside. It floated up towards the sky. That night was a full moon, she said and when I saw it I just knew that it was my balloon up there in the sky. In a world where the whole world revolves around this little tiny person, that makes total sense.
As we walked out to the car today, there was a big gnarly caterpillar on the driveway. He was long, and smooth on top; like armor. He had yellow spots on the side and tons of legs. He looked exactly like the furry black and yellow ones I'd seen so often; but was smooth and hairless instead. I stopped and pointed it out to her. We gazed together as he hurried across the cement. I picked him up on the edge of some cardboard to put him in the grass. As I did so, he curled into a ball. I told her that he was scared. We dropped him safely in the grass, watched him uncurl and got into the car. We were both totally satisfied with the encounter until I talked to Dad and Susan today.
Susan said that dad was dying to know if I'd picked it up and put it in her hand. I have to admit that the thought didn't even cross my mind. I would never touch it with my own hands, let alone put it in hers. But, what a great way for her to feel his little soft legs crawling on her palm and tickling her skin. Would she be scared? Would she try to eat him? Would she laugh and giggle? I guess we'll have to wait until dad or Adam is around to actually touch the thing. It was way too big and scary for me. She never did try to touch him. She pointed, and then pointed closer; but never actually touched it. I'm with you kid.
She also found the stars for the first time last night. When we got out of the car, she looked up to the star filled (clear?weird!) sky and was mezmerized for a few minutes. It was very cool. Mom told me tonight that one day when I was a little tot, I had a yellow helium balloon and lost it outside. It floated up towards the sky. That night was a full moon, she said and when I saw it I just knew that it was my balloon up there in the sky. In a world where the whole world revolves around this little tiny person, that makes total sense.
As we walked out to the car today, there was a big gnarly caterpillar on the driveway. He was long, and smooth on top; like armor. He had yellow spots on the side and tons of legs. He looked exactly like the furry black and yellow ones I'd seen so often; but was smooth and hairless instead. I stopped and pointed it out to her. We gazed together as he hurried across the cement. I picked him up on the edge of some cardboard to put him in the grass. As I did so, he curled into a ball. I told her that he was scared. We dropped him safely in the grass, watched him uncurl and got into the car. We were both totally satisfied with the encounter until I talked to Dad and Susan today.
Susan said that dad was dying to know if I'd picked it up and put it in her hand. I have to admit that the thought didn't even cross my mind. I would never touch it with my own hands, let alone put it in hers. But, what a great way for her to feel his little soft legs crawling on her palm and tickling her skin. Would she be scared? Would she try to eat him? Would she laugh and giggle? I guess we'll have to wait until dad or Adam is around to actually touch the thing. It was way too big and scary for me. She never did try to touch him. She pointed, and then pointed closer; but never actually touched it. I'm with you kid.
17Nov2009 - Day 102
Two words: Marzano's Tiramisu.
Thank you, Tina, for having a birthday and giving me an excuse to patronize this wonderful and delicious restaurant. There is no dessert that I enjoy more than Marzano's tiramisu. It's perfect. The fresh chocolate shavings on top, the super thick luscious marscapone, the perfectly soaked ladyfingers. It doesn't get any better. Add a bottle of moscato d'asti, some crab stuffed halibut and I am in heaven.
And I was.
Also, my maxi pad experiment worked perfectly. It took a few rubberbands to hold the panties on; but thanks to the wings and me hurrying to Darina's (where there were diapers), no leaks. I was shocked that it actually worked. Taylor seemed to have no clue and moved about putting my heels on while I got ready, just as she always does. I did give myself a secret, smug pat on the back for that one.
Thank you, Tina, for having a birthday and giving me an excuse to patronize this wonderful and delicious restaurant. There is no dessert that I enjoy more than Marzano's tiramisu. It's perfect. The fresh chocolate shavings on top, the super thick luscious marscapone, the perfectly soaked ladyfingers. It doesn't get any better. Add a bottle of moscato d'asti, some crab stuffed halibut and I am in heaven.
And I was.
Also, my maxi pad experiment worked perfectly. It took a few rubberbands to hold the panties on; but thanks to the wings and me hurrying to Darina's (where there were diapers), no leaks. I was shocked that it actually worked. Taylor seemed to have no clue and moved about putting my heels on while I got ready, just as she always does. I did give myself a secret, smug pat on the back for that one.
16Nov2009 - Day 101
Wow, into the three digit days. I feel like we've overcome the first hurdle. Adam is calling a lot more, and he sounds happier. It truly makes me happier when I hear from him. Even if it's just for five minutes. It's really difficult to admit that, especially because I am in super strong tough girl mommy mode; but I am really a much happier super strong tough girl mommy when daddy calls. Taylor now talks to him a lot, telling him about how she found her "shadow" and "morning" and "hi daddy!" It's adorable; and I know it means a lot to him. I don't know if she'll recognize his face, or scent when he comes home; but I know it will be a matter of minutes or hours before they are both head over heels for each other. Today, the ravens won. A plus. The little gym was great, as it always is. Since Delmo has started working, just Sabrina and I go. It's nice to have girl time. We mused today about how cute Adam will be in the class when he's here with Taylor. There are lots of dads that go, too; so it won't be awkward. I truly enjoy the classes, especially when she brings the skills home. She'll try to do a front roll and bend over and look like she's going to break her neck. I also enjoy when she talks in class. Whenever the instructor says it's time to put things away, and says "All done.", Taylor runs over and starts throwing things into whatever receptacle they belong while screaming "all done! all done! all done!" Sabrina and I joke now that she is the clean up nazi. It's hilarious. I don't usually notice, but Sabrina always points out that the other parents are jealous that Taylor talks so much. She must know fifty words. I'm sure that the entire vocabulary isn't in regular circulation; but they've been said and will be again. Today, she also had her fifteen month shots and check up. Sabrina hadn't seen the shots done before, so it was a touch traumatic for her how they jammed the long needles deep into the muscles of poor Taylor's thighs. She was a trooper, though, and recovered quickly.
Today, also, I set myself up for total failure tomorrow morning. On a given night, I try to get everything set up for the morning. Clothes out for me, coffee set up, outfit picked out for Taylor, diaper bag and purse packed with all adequate supplies. Tonight, however...epic fail.
I came home from the Delmos house, at 9ish, only to realize that I had ONE diaper in the entire house. One. That meant that Taylor had a diaper to sleep in; but that when she wakes up tomorrow and said diaper is full of three pounds of urine....no more diapers. Hmmm. I can't leave and go get some. I can't bundle her up and go. It's after nine and pouring freezing rain.
The wheels started turning and voila!
When I had Taylor, there was a lot of residual bleeding. About six weeks of it. So I had some left over ginormous super duper absorbent (with wings) maxis. My plan is to take a pair of my old panties, attach a pad and rubber band the panties on the sides so that they fit. We'll see if my ingenuity pays off. Honestly, though, I am slightly mortified. What kind of mother runs out of diapers? To this, I say. A real one. An imperfect one. One who can laugh about the fact that she has, once again, forgotten something on the to-do list. I think that's the trick, though. The trick is to laugh. Otherwise, I'd be miserable trying to be super strong tough girl mommy.
Today, also, I set myself up for total failure tomorrow morning. On a given night, I try to get everything set up for the morning. Clothes out for me, coffee set up, outfit picked out for Taylor, diaper bag and purse packed with all adequate supplies. Tonight, however...epic fail.
I came home from the Delmos house, at 9ish, only to realize that I had ONE diaper in the entire house. One. That meant that Taylor had a diaper to sleep in; but that when she wakes up tomorrow and said diaper is full of three pounds of urine....no more diapers. Hmmm. I can't leave and go get some. I can't bundle her up and go. It's after nine and pouring freezing rain.
The wheels started turning and voila!
When I had Taylor, there was a lot of residual bleeding. About six weeks of it. So I had some left over ginormous super duper absorbent (with wings) maxis. My plan is to take a pair of my old panties, attach a pad and rubber band the panties on the sides so that they fit. We'll see if my ingenuity pays off. Honestly, though, I am slightly mortified. What kind of mother runs out of diapers? To this, I say. A real one. An imperfect one. One who can laugh about the fact that she has, once again, forgotten something on the to-do list. I think that's the trick, though. The trick is to laugh. Otherwise, I'd be miserable trying to be super strong tough girl mommy.
15Nov2009 - Day 100
I think it's pretty obvious which days I go back and fill in from my broken and spotty memory; because the blogs are super short and have few details or introspections. I can't remember what day it was that Dana called me; I think it was thursday. But, she'd gotten a really horrible haircut; which I saw from the picture of it that she sent me. It was a mullet. I recommended a salon, and stylist that I had gone to for a long time when I lived in Maryland. I didn't think she would take my advice, because what little sister does? Well, she did! I was shocked and excited and honestly, it made me feel so good that she went there and had a great experience and that they fixed her hair and made her happy. It isn't often that you can help someone and they truly are happy with your help. It isn't even often that people willingly accept help. As a mom whose husband is frequently away, and sometimes for long periods of time; I have learned to ask for help and to accept help when it's offered. I think that I can do it myself, but I really can't. No one can. There has to be some sort of support system. There has to be someone you can call. And thankfully, I have people. It just really made me feel good to be Dana's person when she needed me. It's nice to be able to return the help karma. Off to the Delmos for cocktails and girl talk with Sabrina.
14Nov2009 - Day 99
Officially, it is one week until my 29th birthday. I'm pretty good with turning 29. It seems like my life is flying by, though. I feel like I was 22 just yesterday. I can't say, perhaps due to all the fun I had then, exactly what I was doing; but I am pretty sure it was more recent than seven years ago. Today, after the vet, Taylor and I met Riley at the supermall for a bit of shopping. I used some gift cards, and did some christmas browsing. I did buy a few sweaters and shirts; because my cold weather wardrobe definitely leaves something to be desired. I do have a love for the gap, and banana republic, too. Tomorrow will be a clean and relax day. Today was supposed to be, but alas, I am weak and I shopped.
13Nov2009- Day 98
Ah, Friday. Now that I am working only four days a week, Friday seems to come at the perfect time. It's a welcome surprise end to the workweek. It even seems to sneak up on me sometimes. I find myself saying, "friday, already?" But it isn't a dissapointing revelation. Au contraire! It's sheer joy! Today, I also tried to put what I was going to cook for dinner on the calendar. But, today I didn't want buffalo chicken sandwiches. Today, I wanted chicken piccata. So much for my attempt at better organization. Tomorrow, I have to be at the vet in puyallup, half hour away, at 10:20 in the morning to spend $125 on the cat. Oh, joy. The next week is going to be hectic. And then, thanksgiving week will be even worse!
12Nov2009 - Day 97
Thursday, a day like any other. Starting to worry about thanksgiving, and trying to make plans to get everything set up for it. Simba needs $125 worth of shots in order to be ready for boarding; which costs $150 for the time that we're gone. Ugh. At least he will be updated on vaccines for the next year and I'll have that peace of mind. I am,admittedly, not good at keeping up on these types of things. It, for some reason is daunting to me. A to-do list has these strange ominous undertones. Almost as if it says to me, "if you don't get me done, you FAIL!" (Imagine a big scary echoing voice). I do my best, but sometimes the natural procrastinator in me, the naturally lazy person takes over. Sometimes, I fail to finish my list. But, alas, tomorrow is another chance.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
11Nov2009 - Day 96
Veteran's Day! Today, Darina was closed, so I got up feeling like myself again and got ready to take Taylor over to the Delmos. Sabrina is off on Wednesday, and Delmo was off for the holiday. Today, a lot of restaurants, Famous Dave's, Applebee's and of course, BJ's are doing a promo for vets or people with military ID. Free meal, with ID. Ours was to select anything from our lunch special menu. I knew, even before this promo was announced only yesterday, that we'd be busy; because we are always busy on holidays and anytime the bases are closed. I was prepared.
We were butt kicking busy, and the managers and cocktail servers were phenomenal with their help when I needed it. I made great money, enjoyed my guests and didn't have too many snafus.
I went to go get Taylor, and the Delmos were in Puyallup, so I met them at the Applebee's there. We were going to have dinner until we saw the ridiculous wait in the lobby and outside the restaurant. Someone said the wait for their party of 3 was an hour, so we decided to go inside the mall to the food court. I got a quizno's sub and a hot dog for Taylor. She was more interested in running around after eating very little, but we still had fun.
She had a good day with Aunt Sabrina and del mo mo (as she calls him). Usually, just mo mo. She still isn't sure she can say Sabrina, so she declines politely and refers to the pair of them as mo mo. She'll get it, and I think she's close when she sometimes calls her na na. Afterwards, I thought it best to drive home to rescue Sadie and Simba from their prisons, then to go to Macy's to look at boots with Sabrina. I knew if I went, I would want to try on, and then want to buy; but can't buy...plus, the animals.
It's nice to be home and relax a bit, after an extremely hectic few days. With big travelling coming up for Thanksgiving, these few days of quiet time at home will be truly cherished.
We were butt kicking busy, and the managers and cocktail servers were phenomenal with their help when I needed it. I made great money, enjoyed my guests and didn't have too many snafus.
I went to go get Taylor, and the Delmos were in Puyallup, so I met them at the Applebee's there. We were going to have dinner until we saw the ridiculous wait in the lobby and outside the restaurant. Someone said the wait for their party of 3 was an hour, so we decided to go inside the mall to the food court. I got a quizno's sub and a hot dog for Taylor. She was more interested in running around after eating very little, but we still had fun.
She had a good day with Aunt Sabrina and del mo mo (as she calls him). Usually, just mo mo. She still isn't sure she can say Sabrina, so she declines politely and refers to the pair of them as mo mo. She'll get it, and I think she's close when she sometimes calls her na na. Afterwards, I thought it best to drive home to rescue Sadie and Simba from their prisons, then to go to Macy's to look at boots with Sabrina. I knew if I went, I would want to try on, and then want to buy; but can't buy...plus, the animals.
It's nice to be home and relax a bit, after an extremely hectic few days. With big travelling coming up for Thanksgiving, these few days of quiet time at home will be truly cherished.
10Nov2009 - Day 95
The next morning's alarm arrived all too soon. I was jarred awake by my cell phone alarm, which is entirely too annoying. It woke Taylor up, too, and Sadie and any hope of a snooze was all but gone. My head was pounding almost as loud as the alarm, my eyes sealed shut by last night's mascara, and my mouth and throat beyond dry. I sat up, and tried to get the day started; my head pulsed so badly - I swear it was visible from the outside.
Awash in shame over my tequila decision, I changed one of the grossest poopy diapers ever dressed an always chipper and excited Taylor, and proceeded to the bathroom to unglue my eyes and brush the sweaters off of my teeth. Having to stop several times, and sit down from nausea and exhaustion; we finally made it downstairs.
I didn't brush my hair, just threw it in a ponytail while I washed my face; and there it remained. I did manage to get a bit of makeup on. We proceeded outside, in the freezing cold, to the car to go to Miss Darina's. I dropped Taylor off, and spent the drive to work trying not to fall asleep. It was a nightmare. I was so mad at myself. Mother's don't do this. Not good, responsible ones, anyway. Was I a bad mommy? Did I not deserve my beautiful angel baby? I hate beer/tequila hangovers. They're always the depressing ones.
I arrived to work an hour early. I'd left early because I didn't know how long it would take me to drive from the Delmos to Darinas to work. I immediately parked, turned up the heat, locked the doors, reset my alarm, reclined the seat and I was out. Forty five minutes later, Amelia was knocking on my passenger window dangling the camera I'd left at her house on Halloween. If ever something intangible like time could be magic, it was today. Those forty five minutes were magic. I felt so much better, and could at least keep my eyes open. I did have sleep lines on my face, but those would fade before I had to face the beer and tequila awaiting public.
I felt like kind of a hot mess, but my hair didn't look as bad as I thought; it was actually pretty good. I did have a brush in my purse, just in case. Thank goodness I'd napped, because it was busy today. And of course, there were tequila shots ordered. I managed to sufficiently hide my urge to wretch at the smell of it, and made it through the day relatively unscathed.
Sabrina had picked up Taylor, because Darina had a parent teacher conference for her daughter at two. I picked up Delmo at the fairgrounds in Puyallup, stopped at Walmart so he could run in and by Up on DVD and then we went to their house. He'd bought Sabrina and I flowers, and they were beautiful. I brought them home and they're on the counter in a vase. It was really sweet of him.
We had dinner there- homemade parmesan crusted chicken and spaghetti bolognese. Feeding my hangover was wonderful, and we slowly packed up and got ready to come home. Back home, there was a sense of relief that the hectic, horrid hangover day was over. I could not wait to crawl into bed. As soon as Taylor was safely in her crib, and things were prepared for the next morning, crawl into bed is exactly what I did.
Awash in shame over my tequila decision, I changed one of the grossest poopy diapers ever dressed an always chipper and excited Taylor, and proceeded to the bathroom to unglue my eyes and brush the sweaters off of my teeth. Having to stop several times, and sit down from nausea and exhaustion; we finally made it downstairs.
I didn't brush my hair, just threw it in a ponytail while I washed my face; and there it remained. I did manage to get a bit of makeup on. We proceeded outside, in the freezing cold, to the car to go to Miss Darina's. I dropped Taylor off, and spent the drive to work trying not to fall asleep. It was a nightmare. I was so mad at myself. Mother's don't do this. Not good, responsible ones, anyway. Was I a bad mommy? Did I not deserve my beautiful angel baby? I hate beer/tequila hangovers. They're always the depressing ones.
I arrived to work an hour early. I'd left early because I didn't know how long it would take me to drive from the Delmos to Darinas to work. I immediately parked, turned up the heat, locked the doors, reset my alarm, reclined the seat and I was out. Forty five minutes later, Amelia was knocking on my passenger window dangling the camera I'd left at her house on Halloween. If ever something intangible like time could be magic, it was today. Those forty five minutes were magic. I felt so much better, and could at least keep my eyes open. I did have sleep lines on my face, but those would fade before I had to face the beer and tequila awaiting public.
I felt like kind of a hot mess, but my hair didn't look as bad as I thought; it was actually pretty good. I did have a brush in my purse, just in case. Thank goodness I'd napped, because it was busy today. And of course, there were tequila shots ordered. I managed to sufficiently hide my urge to wretch at the smell of it, and made it through the day relatively unscathed.
Sabrina had picked up Taylor, because Darina had a parent teacher conference for her daughter at two. I picked up Delmo at the fairgrounds in Puyallup, stopped at Walmart so he could run in and by Up on DVD and then we went to their house. He'd bought Sabrina and I flowers, and they were beautiful. I brought them home and they're on the counter in a vase. It was really sweet of him.
We had dinner there- homemade parmesan crusted chicken and spaghetti bolognese. Feeding my hangover was wonderful, and we slowly packed up and got ready to come home. Back home, there was a sense of relief that the hectic, horrid hangover day was over. I could not wait to crawl into bed. As soon as Taylor was safely in her crib, and things were prepared for the next morning, crawl into bed is exactly what I did.
9Nov2009 - Day 94
Monday, busy Monday.
Woke up, at home, got Taylor, myself and Sadie together and in the car to go to the little gym. Drove to Sabrina's, picked up Sabrina, dropped off Sadie, went to the little gym class where Taylor asserted her independence by pretty much doing her own thing and exploring the gym all class long (except when the balls and bubbles came out, of course), left the little gym, went to Sabrina's, picked up all three dogs...(insert sound of wheels screeching to a halt here)
yes. all. 3. dogs. We got Scruffy, the little miniature one; Dash, the ridiculously large choco lab (with a tongue that doesn't quit kissing everyone in sight. all the time. he can get Taylor's whole head in one swipe. It's super gross.), and Sadie, the medium sized one that can't sit still to save her life. Oh, plus, Taylor in her giant carseat in the middle of the backseat, and Sabrina and I in the front. It was quite a sight. We laughed, a lot during that ride. It was musical dogs, and kisses and yelling and protecting the chips that Taylor had in her hand from being taken. We stopped for coffee for Sabrina and the coffee shack girl gave all the dogs treats. I think I could see her trying not to laugh at the debacle in my car. I'm sure we were a story for the rest of the day after we left.
We went to base, to the hospital for Taylor's follow up doctor's appointment. Sabrina dropped Taylor and I at the door, so we didn't run late; and parked the car and walked Dash. (He has a bladder like an eighty year old man.) She joined us in the waiting room, with another funny story. As she opened the door, in the very busy parking lot, Dash came bounding out of the car and into one of the islands full of vegetation and ivy. He ran back and forth through it all, in the rain, to the point where the cars stopped around it because they thought he'd run into them. Poor Sabrina had to chase him. The doctor's appointment went well.
The doctor said that the pink eye was most likely viral, which is more common than bacterial. She said that was also probably why it came back. She said that it will just have to run its course, really. The body will fight it off, with the help of the goo. ugh. Not exactly music to my ears. More goopy eye boogers, Great.
We left and took Taylor to Darina's, chatting with her for a bit because I had to fill out some paperwork. Afterwards, in the dreary, not exactly raining but bitter cold and windy weather, Sabrina and I walked the airfield. That means, we took all three of our crazy dogs on a paved path that is 4.3 miles around a giant airfield on base. The rain held off until the last 1/3 of our walk; and then the wind drove sharp drops of liquid ice into our faces and hair. It was frigid for about thirty minutes. Two hours it took us to walk, and then we left to pick Taylor up again because the Delmos were watching her while I went to the beer dinner at work tonight.
We got Taylor, and were off back to the Delmos. I dropped the crew off, and it was 4:30 so I had to leave quickly to go home and get ready for the dinner before I hit crazy traffic. Simba greeted me happily, as I let him out of his bathroom prison. I got ready excitedly. I love beer dinner night.
It's a great time with girls from work, and we get to sit and have beer and be served an awesome dinner and just enjoy ourselves. I love it, and it's always fun. I must say, I looked pretty good and made it to the restaurant just early enough to chat up the regulars at the bar that I recognized. The dinner went great. At our table were Alicia, myself, Caitlin, Chassey, Shelby, Drew and her boyfriend and....drumroll, please...Andy, our new GM. I must admit that I was a little nervous when he sat down. His presence meant that we had to be careful about what we said, and we didn't know him too well and so that was a touch new and awkward. Quickly, though, my apprehension faded and he reminded me of other people I had met in Colorado (where he is from). He seems like a truly nice guy, and was easy to talk to and seemed to enjoy hanging with us. We didn't probably get as unruly as we would have, as the beer flowed; but we had a great time.
Afterwards, we sat in the cocktail area and finished our beer and then I went to the Delmos for the night. I got there, and Delmo was in bed (as is the new routine, with his new job and getting up early) and so Sabrina and I proceeded to dive headfirst, without any sort of lifevest into the tequila bottle. Now, anyone that knows me, knows I hate tequila. We are not and have never been friends. This night, or the next morning rather; was no exception.
I proceeded to drink...way...too much. I am sure there were emotional moments with me hugging her and telling her what an amazing friend she is, some tears about god knows what. The night ended as many shot-for-shot-with-Sabrina nights do - with her helping me get undressed and into bed. It's really quite embarrassing how many times this woman has undressed me for bed. (insert comment from adam with regards to trying to get us to kiss.)(sorry, baby, no such luck.)lol
Woke up, at home, got Taylor, myself and Sadie together and in the car to go to the little gym. Drove to Sabrina's, picked up Sabrina, dropped off Sadie, went to the little gym class where Taylor asserted her independence by pretty much doing her own thing and exploring the gym all class long (except when the balls and bubbles came out, of course), left the little gym, went to Sabrina's, picked up all three dogs...(insert sound of wheels screeching to a halt here)
yes. all. 3. dogs. We got Scruffy, the little miniature one; Dash, the ridiculously large choco lab (with a tongue that doesn't quit kissing everyone in sight. all the time. he can get Taylor's whole head in one swipe. It's super gross.), and Sadie, the medium sized one that can't sit still to save her life. Oh, plus, Taylor in her giant carseat in the middle of the backseat, and Sabrina and I in the front. It was quite a sight. We laughed, a lot during that ride. It was musical dogs, and kisses and yelling and protecting the chips that Taylor had in her hand from being taken. We stopped for coffee for Sabrina and the coffee shack girl gave all the dogs treats. I think I could see her trying not to laugh at the debacle in my car. I'm sure we were a story for the rest of the day after we left.
We went to base, to the hospital for Taylor's follow up doctor's appointment. Sabrina dropped Taylor and I at the door, so we didn't run late; and parked the car and walked Dash. (He has a bladder like an eighty year old man.) She joined us in the waiting room, with another funny story. As she opened the door, in the very busy parking lot, Dash came bounding out of the car and into one of the islands full of vegetation and ivy. He ran back and forth through it all, in the rain, to the point where the cars stopped around it because they thought he'd run into them. Poor Sabrina had to chase him. The doctor's appointment went well.
The doctor said that the pink eye was most likely viral, which is more common than bacterial. She said that was also probably why it came back. She said that it will just have to run its course, really. The body will fight it off, with the help of the goo. ugh. Not exactly music to my ears. More goopy eye boogers, Great.
We left and took Taylor to Darina's, chatting with her for a bit because I had to fill out some paperwork. Afterwards, in the dreary, not exactly raining but bitter cold and windy weather, Sabrina and I walked the airfield. That means, we took all three of our crazy dogs on a paved path that is 4.3 miles around a giant airfield on base. The rain held off until the last 1/3 of our walk; and then the wind drove sharp drops of liquid ice into our faces and hair. It was frigid for about thirty minutes. Two hours it took us to walk, and then we left to pick Taylor up again because the Delmos were watching her while I went to the beer dinner at work tonight.
We got Taylor, and were off back to the Delmos. I dropped the crew off, and it was 4:30 so I had to leave quickly to go home and get ready for the dinner before I hit crazy traffic. Simba greeted me happily, as I let him out of his bathroom prison. I got ready excitedly. I love beer dinner night.
It's a great time with girls from work, and we get to sit and have beer and be served an awesome dinner and just enjoy ourselves. I love it, and it's always fun. I must say, I looked pretty good and made it to the restaurant just early enough to chat up the regulars at the bar that I recognized. The dinner went great. At our table were Alicia, myself, Caitlin, Chassey, Shelby, Drew and her boyfriend and....drumroll, please...Andy, our new GM. I must admit that I was a little nervous when he sat down. His presence meant that we had to be careful about what we said, and we didn't know him too well and so that was a touch new and awkward. Quickly, though, my apprehension faded and he reminded me of other people I had met in Colorado (where he is from). He seems like a truly nice guy, and was easy to talk to and seemed to enjoy hanging with us. We didn't probably get as unruly as we would have, as the beer flowed; but we had a great time.
Afterwards, we sat in the cocktail area and finished our beer and then I went to the Delmos for the night. I got there, and Delmo was in bed (as is the new routine, with his new job and getting up early) and so Sabrina and I proceeded to dive headfirst, without any sort of lifevest into the tequila bottle. Now, anyone that knows me, knows I hate tequila. We are not and have never been friends. This night, or the next morning rather; was no exception.
I proceeded to drink...way...too much. I am sure there were emotional moments with me hugging her and telling her what an amazing friend she is, some tears about god knows what. The night ended as many shot-for-shot-with-Sabrina nights do - with her helping me get undressed and into bed. It's really quite embarrassing how many times this woman has undressed me for bed. (insert comment from adam with regards to trying to get us to kiss.)(sorry, baby, no such luck.)lol
Sunday, November 8, 2009
8Nov2009 - Day 93
Ah, lazy Sunday. Adam must've watched the Ravens game today, because we lost. We always lose when he watches. lol. Hung around the house with Taylor, mostly because of her pink eye. Partially, I didn't feel social, at all. I didn't want to call anyone, go anywhere, have to make polite conversation with anyone. I just wanted reese's peanut butter cups for breakfast, and comfy pants and the couch today.
Poor Taylor, today. I must've been boring. Tomorrow a very hectic week begins, so perhaps I am saving up my energy stores. I must be, because I had no energy or motivation today! We have the Little Gym tomorrow, a follow up doctor's appointment, then Taylor goes to Darina's and Sabrina and I and the gaggle of three dogs are going to walk the airfield on base. Then back to Darina's to get Taylor and drop the whole lot at the Delmos. Then home to change and get ready for the beer dinner at work. Then to the Delmos for the night. Tuesday, I take Taylor to Darina's on the way to work. Sabrina will pick her up at 2 and take her to her house because Darina has an appointment for her daughter. Then I will pick Delmo up from the fairgrounds after I am off of work, and we will have dinner and the Delmos house. After dinner, we'll come home for the night; but I'll take Taylor to the Delmos on Wednesday because it's Veteran's Day and Darina is closed on federal holidays. sigh.
Busy, hectic week! After that, back to normal, I think. At least for a week and a half. After thanksgiving, I am doing no more travelling until Adam is home from Iraq for good. I love travelling and the family, but I really want to work and work on saving money. It will help me feel less stressed. Speaking of less stressed, going to bed early will also help. Goodnight!
Poor Taylor, today. I must've been boring. Tomorrow a very hectic week begins, so perhaps I am saving up my energy stores. I must be, because I had no energy or motivation today! We have the Little Gym tomorrow, a follow up doctor's appointment, then Taylor goes to Darina's and Sabrina and I and the gaggle of three dogs are going to walk the airfield on base. Then back to Darina's to get Taylor and drop the whole lot at the Delmos. Then home to change and get ready for the beer dinner at work. Then to the Delmos for the night. Tuesday, I take Taylor to Darina's on the way to work. Sabrina will pick her up at 2 and take her to her house because Darina has an appointment for her daughter. Then I will pick Delmo up from the fairgrounds after I am off of work, and we will have dinner and the Delmos house. After dinner, we'll come home for the night; but I'll take Taylor to the Delmos on Wednesday because it's Veteran's Day and Darina is closed on federal holidays. sigh.
Busy, hectic week! After that, back to normal, I think. At least for a week and a half. After thanksgiving, I am doing no more travelling until Adam is home from Iraq for good. I love travelling and the family, but I really want to work and work on saving money. It will help me feel less stressed. Speaking of less stressed, going to bed early will also help. Goodnight!
7Nov2009 - Day 92
And so, as I picked up a sleeping Wubba Mayter last night from Darina's I noticed that the pink eye had returned to rear it's ugly puss in full force in both eyes. Sigh. So tired of the pink eye. Spent today in the house, attempting to keep her hands out of her eyes, the ointment in her eyes, and her hands washed whenever I saw the hands in the eyes.
One super cute thing did happen tonight, though. We were in full-on chill out mode on the sofa (or at least I was) and she was busy playing around. She walked over to the wall in front of the couch when she glimpsed it. It followed her everywhere she went, it moved when she did, it was super scary and made her run away to the couch and climb into my lap and refuse to return to the wall. It was her shadow. For awhile, before the fear set in, during the discovery phase, she was enamored with it; playing and moving her limbs. It was really cute to watch. But, she'd decided that she didn't like being followed and copied, I suppose.
I'm tired of not being able to talk with Adam regularly. It's getting ridiculous. The last few times we have talked, we've bickered. Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in his head. He says he doesn't need Chantix to quit, but that he could borrow some of someone else's. Why take someone else's prescription medication? I don't even want to continue on my exasperation. I don't have the time or emotional energy to try to explain to a grown man why this is wrong. In the perpetual mental state of stress that I'm in, I really don't have any patience, either. If he wants to do that, it's his business and his decision. I just don't think it's a good one. How do you explain to a child that it's ok to take some medicine that isn't yours, but not others? You don't. And I fully believe that in order to instill certain values and integrity in her, I have to live those things. I think that perhaps, given the situation he is in, and lack of contact with her, he doesn't think of those things. I understand this, though. But, perhaps, he should try to look at things from that perspective.
Every day, I am asking myself what kind of mother I want to be. Every little decision I make determines that in little tiny ways. Do I pick up more shifts to make money for christmas presents, but spend less time with her? Do I do the dishes right away before watching television? Do I eat my vegetables? Do I keep my word when I tell someone I'll do something, no matter what it is? Do I treat other people with respect, even those that test my patience? Do I talk with my mouth full? Everything I do is under scrutiny, by myself. I'm not dissatisfied with who I am as a mother, because of this fact. I know there are some things I definitely need to work on, ehem, vegetables. But, sometimes I wonder if fathers have this self-examination mechanism built in that mothers do. I'm sure they do, but about different things. Big picture things, maybe. I don't know if Adam does. I don't know if he thinks of these things, at all. I wish I did. I wish we talked more, so I could ask him. I think this is definitely tough, will be tough on us. Are these the types of negotiations we'll have to learn to make as parents that parent together once he's home again? Will his values coincide with mine? What if, like with cleaning, my standards (or his) are higher than the other person's? Whose, then, would we hold her accountable to? I guess we'd both have to discuss it. I know there are some things that I am unwilling to compromise on. Should I? Should I compromise a value I want her to have, or an ethic, or a standard I want her to uphold because his are not the same? What does all of this really mean for her? How will all of this affect her? Will she be ok?
One super cute thing did happen tonight, though. We were in full-on chill out mode on the sofa (or at least I was) and she was busy playing around. She walked over to the wall in front of the couch when she glimpsed it. It followed her everywhere she went, it moved when she did, it was super scary and made her run away to the couch and climb into my lap and refuse to return to the wall. It was her shadow. For awhile, before the fear set in, during the discovery phase, she was enamored with it; playing and moving her limbs. It was really cute to watch. But, she'd decided that she didn't like being followed and copied, I suppose.
I'm tired of not being able to talk with Adam regularly. It's getting ridiculous. The last few times we have talked, we've bickered. Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in his head. He says he doesn't need Chantix to quit, but that he could borrow some of someone else's. Why take someone else's prescription medication? I don't even want to continue on my exasperation. I don't have the time or emotional energy to try to explain to a grown man why this is wrong. In the perpetual mental state of stress that I'm in, I really don't have any patience, either. If he wants to do that, it's his business and his decision. I just don't think it's a good one. How do you explain to a child that it's ok to take some medicine that isn't yours, but not others? You don't. And I fully believe that in order to instill certain values and integrity in her, I have to live those things. I think that perhaps, given the situation he is in, and lack of contact with her, he doesn't think of those things. I understand this, though. But, perhaps, he should try to look at things from that perspective.
Every day, I am asking myself what kind of mother I want to be. Every little decision I make determines that in little tiny ways. Do I pick up more shifts to make money for christmas presents, but spend less time with her? Do I do the dishes right away before watching television? Do I eat my vegetables? Do I keep my word when I tell someone I'll do something, no matter what it is? Do I treat other people with respect, even those that test my patience? Do I talk with my mouth full? Everything I do is under scrutiny, by myself. I'm not dissatisfied with who I am as a mother, because of this fact. I know there are some things I definitely need to work on, ehem, vegetables. But, sometimes I wonder if fathers have this self-examination mechanism built in that mothers do. I'm sure they do, but about different things. Big picture things, maybe. I don't know if Adam does. I don't know if he thinks of these things, at all. I wish I did. I wish we talked more, so I could ask him. I think this is definitely tough, will be tough on us. Are these the types of negotiations we'll have to learn to make as parents that parent together once he's home again? Will his values coincide with mine? What if, like with cleaning, my standards (or his) are higher than the other person's? Whose, then, would we hold her accountable to? I guess we'd both have to discuss it. I know there are some things that I am unwilling to compromise on. Should I? Should I compromise a value I want her to have, or an ethic, or a standard I want her to uphold because his are not the same? What does all of this really mean for her? How will all of this affect her? Will she be ok?
6Nov2009 - Day 91
My first double at work. The day shift was great, the usual. Made a good amount of money. Night time was....not what I expected. It was great having a girls night behind the bar with Caitlin and Shelby; but it didn't turn out how I expected it to. It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. Mostly, it was the guests. They weren't very nice, and pretty much camped out not ordering much or they would order and go to a table and want to transfer. A bunch of work making drinks for nothing! There were also the other guys who'd come and sit at the bar, order a beer and leave a quarter; or nothing. It was appalling. I seriously didn't enjoy it. There were no regulars, and the service expectation was totally different than what I was used to. I made pretty good money, but it really could have been more. Oh, well. I'll stick to my days and work on building up the regulars more.
All in all, exhausted, but glad to be able to work the shift so that I didn't lose out too much on money being off for two days with Taylor.
All in all, exhausted, but glad to be able to work the shift so that I didn't lose out too much on money being off for two days with Taylor.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
5Nov2009 - Day 90
Why, it seems, when crazy things happen, are these the days that I don't talk to Adam. Not that I'm mad, but he calls more frequently when I have very little exciting to tell him. The poor daddy has no idea about Taylor's eye.
Well, she isn't exactly in incapable hands. He needn't worry anyway. lol
Today, I ran out of things to do while she napped. Her eye was a ton better, both of them actually. Boredom, and the desire to go back to work set in. I agreed to drive Sabrina to work, which was exciting because it's rare that they need favors, and frequent that I do. While driving her, I saw a sign on a school that said that November 11 was Veteran's Day, so Darina will be closed next Wednesday. Damn it. Sabrina said that she'd watch Taylor, and Delmo happened to be off too, so he'll be excited. Judging by his sentimental "poor taylor" texts and things, I think he misses her anyway.
A relatively unproductive and uneventful day, I am just glad that her eyes are better and she can go back to daycare tomorrow. I will be working a double, and working with Caitlin and Shelby. Yay girls night! I'm excited that neither of the boys will be there to heckle me, because I know they would. Caitlin also said that even though I am picking up the 2nd off shift, I could be first off. I don't know if I'll take her up on the offer or not. I'm paying for nightcare no matter if I come home at 9 or 10 or 11; and an hour isn't a big difference. I guess it just depends on exactly how tired I am from my first double since before I got pregnant with Taylor.
And now for Thursday night television....my favorite day. CSI, Grey's, Real Housewives...
Well, she isn't exactly in incapable hands. He needn't worry anyway. lol
Today, I ran out of things to do while she napped. Her eye was a ton better, both of them actually. Boredom, and the desire to go back to work set in. I agreed to drive Sabrina to work, which was exciting because it's rare that they need favors, and frequent that I do. While driving her, I saw a sign on a school that said that November 11 was Veteran's Day, so Darina will be closed next Wednesday. Damn it. Sabrina said that she'd watch Taylor, and Delmo happened to be off too, so he'll be excited. Judging by his sentimental "poor taylor" texts and things, I think he misses her anyway.
A relatively unproductive and uneventful day, I am just glad that her eyes are better and she can go back to daycare tomorrow. I will be working a double, and working with Caitlin and Shelby. Yay girls night! I'm excited that neither of the boys will be there to heckle me, because I know they would. Caitlin also said that even though I am picking up the 2nd off shift, I could be first off. I don't know if I'll take her up on the offer or not. I'm paying for nightcare no matter if I come home at 9 or 10 or 11; and an hour isn't a big difference. I guess it just depends on exactly how tired I am from my first double since before I got pregnant with Taylor.
And now for Thursday night television....my favorite day. CSI, Grey's, Real Housewives...
4Nov2009 - Day 89
While, yes, I was truly dissapointed about not being able to work; I did accept it for what it was and move on. I proceeded to try to enjoy my day off with Taylor. Caitlin covered my shift, so I was confident that everything was alright at work.
When Taylor woke up, her eye was swollen and glued shut. She looked absolutely awful. But, she had no clue. She was happy, her usual self. I grabbed a warm washcloth and applied it, with much resistance. It seemed to unglue the eye enough for it to open as wide as the swelling would allow; which wasn't very far. We changed the diaper, and went through our usual routine. I'd applied more gook to her eye; sort of. I worried all day about how much was actually getting into the eye. She seemed still in pain, so it was tough to get her to allow me to do it.
We lazed about for most of the morning, and I enjoyed some internet surfing. I quickly ran out of things to surf about, and prepared dinner in the slow cooker. Nichol and I were supposed to get together for dinner, but given the current situation, I didn't want to take Taylor out in public. I know it's shallow, and horrible; but I was as much worried about the silent judging at the sight of her swollen eye (looking like she was abused) as I was the contagiousness of the condition. I did have to run to Safeway to get sour cream for the stroganoff, so we did do that. By then, the swelling had subsided quite a bit; but the eye socket was still quite red. Almost as if it was some weird grocery store curse, I noticed a bit of gook in the other eye while we were in Safeway. I sighed. I guess I wasn't going back to work tomorrow. At home, I applied the medicine gook to both eyes, and hoped that catching it and treating it before it became horrible like the other eye would help. I'm no doctor, but I am convinced that she got something in the first eye, and that the condition was a result of that and then spread to the other eye and that was why (plus the lack of multiple eye washings and quick treatment) it wasn't as severe.
Nichol came, and dinner was great. Taylor still looked pretty bad, but she was feeling better. After she went to bed, Nichol and I proceeded to the couch with our wine glasses and the bottle of pinot grigio for refills. We talked for awhile, and she told me all about her Napa Valley trip; which sounded absolutely wonderful. During all of this, I tried to cover my shift. Dom ended up doing it, but I agreed that I would work his (gulp) Friday night if Darina would agree to sit Taylor. This way he wouldn't end up in overtime. Part of me scared (I've never worked a night shift), and part of me excited I went to bed shortly after Nichol left.
When Taylor woke up, her eye was swollen and glued shut. She looked absolutely awful. But, she had no clue. She was happy, her usual self. I grabbed a warm washcloth and applied it, with much resistance. It seemed to unglue the eye enough for it to open as wide as the swelling would allow; which wasn't very far. We changed the diaper, and went through our usual routine. I'd applied more gook to her eye; sort of. I worried all day about how much was actually getting into the eye. She seemed still in pain, so it was tough to get her to allow me to do it.
We lazed about for most of the morning, and I enjoyed some internet surfing. I quickly ran out of things to surf about, and prepared dinner in the slow cooker. Nichol and I were supposed to get together for dinner, but given the current situation, I didn't want to take Taylor out in public. I know it's shallow, and horrible; but I was as much worried about the silent judging at the sight of her swollen eye (looking like she was abused) as I was the contagiousness of the condition. I did have to run to Safeway to get sour cream for the stroganoff, so we did do that. By then, the swelling had subsided quite a bit; but the eye socket was still quite red. Almost as if it was some weird grocery store curse, I noticed a bit of gook in the other eye while we were in Safeway. I sighed. I guess I wasn't going back to work tomorrow. At home, I applied the medicine gook to both eyes, and hoped that catching it and treating it before it became horrible like the other eye would help. I'm no doctor, but I am convinced that she got something in the first eye, and that the condition was a result of that and then spread to the other eye and that was why (plus the lack of multiple eye washings and quick treatment) it wasn't as severe.
Nichol came, and dinner was great. Taylor still looked pretty bad, but she was feeling better. After she went to bed, Nichol and I proceeded to the couch with our wine glasses and the bottle of pinot grigio for refills. We talked for awhile, and she told me all about her Napa Valley trip; which sounded absolutely wonderful. During all of this, I tried to cover my shift. Dom ended up doing it, but I agreed that I would work his (gulp) Friday night if Darina would agree to sit Taylor. This way he wouldn't end up in overtime. Part of me scared (I've never worked a night shift), and part of me excited I went to bed shortly after Nichol left.
3Nov2009 - Day 88
It seems like every day usually starts out pretty normal. Somehow or another, today turned into a not so normal day. A day like any other, I was contentedly busy at work; happy to be back and making money. I picked up Taylor at Darina's and we made our way to the commissary for a few items. We weren't very far in, the produce section - when I saw it. It looked like something floating around in her eye. From the looks of it, my best guess was she'd been eating a cracker and somehow managed to put some already chewed mush of it into her eye. At least, that was what it looked like. But it was a big chunk, so I took her right away to the bathroom and tried to wash it out. We made it halfway around the store when the white mush that had seemed a relatively cohesive mass started to turn booger like and was oozing out of her eye. It was also stuck in her eyelashes. Abandoning our cart, we went back to the bathroom for some more eye washing. Satisfied that I would have to perform a more thorough surgery at home, we continued on to the bread aisle. By the time we'd lapped the market and reached the final destination dairy section, her eye was swollen and looked like someone had punched her.
I resolved to possibly go to the emergency room if the condition of it didn't improve.
By the time we'd gotten home, it was swollen almost shut and starting to ooze an extremely sticky yellow booger like substance. It was super gross. And I was praying that it wasn't pink eye. I really can't afford more time off.
I did a thorough eye washing, much to the chagrin and visible discomfort of my little patient. Nothing improved. In fact, it oozed and gooked even more. It was getting really red. I couldn't take it anymore, and off to the emergency room we went.
Sitting in the waiting room, after a relatively quick triage, I noted the fullness of the chairs. People were wearing masks, kids were squirming and whining uncomfortably. It seemed as though most of the patients, although I knew that they were military and military families, were homeless people off of the street. Everyone, even the parents of the sick kids, looked terrible. I hoped I didn't ooze white trash like the other people in the room. (I feel so much better getting that out. I know it's wrong to judge; but it was fifty degrees outside and the finest example of my analysis was wearing short athletic shorts and had faded (now) bluish tattoos in random locations on her legs. One was a huge set of baby footprints plastered randomly across the side and front of her thighs. The idea was good, but it definitely fell short in execution. And she wasn't thin enough to look good in the shorts, either. She was kind of blockish and manish. It was super gross.)
The same lovely people I speak of previously were talking about the hours they'd waited. I settled in for a long wait. Taylor's eye was gooking uncontrollably, despite all my efforts to wipe it. It seemed painful for her for me to touch it, so I tried to wipe when it was least expected. She chirped at everyone who walked by, or was sitting near us, "Hieee!" It was cute. At least, she was in good spirits. The wait dragged on, and I noted that one young guy in blue scrubs seemed to really do very little but meander in and about the waiting room and empty rooms surrounding it. Everyone that I saw moved with little to no sense of urgency. It was super annoying. Imagine if I moved with that little urgency when these same people were in the restaurant. And that's just food. You'd think that people dealing with the lives and health of other people would move a little quicker.
Finally, after three hours we are called. We go into the room and the "doctor" takes about ten minutes to show up. He's my age-ish, a captain, and a resident. Not an attending. He looks like a rookie. He moves uncomfortably and unconfidently like a rookie. He talks like a rookie. He touches Taylor like a rookie. It was super annoying. I resolve that when he says he's going to get his boss that I won't let them mess this up. I immediately distrust him. He seems to truly not have seen pink eye before, or whatever is wrong with her. He tells me that he is pretty sure that that is what it is. I ask if it's usually so swollen. He says, "It can be." Really? What does that mean? Then another guy comes back in with him, a sergeant. Obviously, not his boss. They put some gook into her eye, turn the lights out, and shine a black light on it. Her tears, as she screams in pain and annoyance illuminate in a neon yellow under the blacklight. He's looking for scratches he says. From what I can tell, her eyes open for maybe a millisecond, yet he's satisfied that there is no scratch. I'm not convinced, but I am glad that the whole process is over.
He leaves again, and this time comes back with a guy, same rank, much different walk and demeanor and a name tag that says "senior resident." I'm feeling slightly better. He seems to know what he's doing. Pink eye, they say. Then they leave. They say nothing to me at all. They just walked out. Really? I wait about ten to fifteen minutes, as an exhausted Taylor falls asleep with the bright lights on in the bed. I open the door, and catch the eye of someone. I tell him that we've been waiting and the doctors left and said nothing, and I'd like to know what's going on. He returns to tell me that the doctor is doing paperwork, and that he'll be right back. The doctor jr returns and apologizes, not for leaving without communicating at all, but for the wait. He prescribes the ointment, and asks if I have any questions. He was very unthorough about it. Thank goodness I knew what to do from when I had pink eye.
Thank goodness, also, that Madigan sends a survey for every time you go to the hospital. Until now, I've never filled one out. I will definitely be filling this one out when it arrives. The hospital did call and schedule a follow up appointment for Monday. I can't wait to tell the doctor about my experience when I arrive.
I also, like an idiot, left the stroller in the car. So I had to carry a sleeping Taylor, her diaper bag and my purse to the pharmacy, which was at least a ten minute walk through the entire hospital. At the pharmacy, there was a wheelchair so I set her in it sleeping, albeit crunched up. I used it to wheel our way back to the ER and left it by the door. Back at home, I attempted to apply the first round of medicine to a sleeping wubba. She flinched every time I came near the eye, so I'm not sure if any actually got in the eye. But, we'd see tomorrow how it looked. It was late, and I was off to bed.
I resolved to possibly go to the emergency room if the condition of it didn't improve.
By the time we'd gotten home, it was swollen almost shut and starting to ooze an extremely sticky yellow booger like substance. It was super gross. And I was praying that it wasn't pink eye. I really can't afford more time off.
I did a thorough eye washing, much to the chagrin and visible discomfort of my little patient. Nothing improved. In fact, it oozed and gooked even more. It was getting really red. I couldn't take it anymore, and off to the emergency room we went.
Sitting in the waiting room, after a relatively quick triage, I noted the fullness of the chairs. People were wearing masks, kids were squirming and whining uncomfortably. It seemed as though most of the patients, although I knew that they were military and military families, were homeless people off of the street. Everyone, even the parents of the sick kids, looked terrible. I hoped I didn't ooze white trash like the other people in the room. (I feel so much better getting that out. I know it's wrong to judge; but it was fifty degrees outside and the finest example of my analysis was wearing short athletic shorts and had faded (now) bluish tattoos in random locations on her legs. One was a huge set of baby footprints plastered randomly across the side and front of her thighs. The idea was good, but it definitely fell short in execution. And she wasn't thin enough to look good in the shorts, either. She was kind of blockish and manish. It was super gross.)
The same lovely people I speak of previously were talking about the hours they'd waited. I settled in for a long wait. Taylor's eye was gooking uncontrollably, despite all my efforts to wipe it. It seemed painful for her for me to touch it, so I tried to wipe when it was least expected. She chirped at everyone who walked by, or was sitting near us, "Hieee!" It was cute. At least, she was in good spirits. The wait dragged on, and I noted that one young guy in blue scrubs seemed to really do very little but meander in and about the waiting room and empty rooms surrounding it. Everyone that I saw moved with little to no sense of urgency. It was super annoying. Imagine if I moved with that little urgency when these same people were in the restaurant. And that's just food. You'd think that people dealing with the lives and health of other people would move a little quicker.
Finally, after three hours we are called. We go into the room and the "doctor" takes about ten minutes to show up. He's my age-ish, a captain, and a resident. Not an attending. He looks like a rookie. He moves uncomfortably and unconfidently like a rookie. He talks like a rookie. He touches Taylor like a rookie. It was super annoying. I resolve that when he says he's going to get his boss that I won't let them mess this up. I immediately distrust him. He seems to truly not have seen pink eye before, or whatever is wrong with her. He tells me that he is pretty sure that that is what it is. I ask if it's usually so swollen. He says, "It can be." Really? What does that mean? Then another guy comes back in with him, a sergeant. Obviously, not his boss. They put some gook into her eye, turn the lights out, and shine a black light on it. Her tears, as she screams in pain and annoyance illuminate in a neon yellow under the blacklight. He's looking for scratches he says. From what I can tell, her eyes open for maybe a millisecond, yet he's satisfied that there is no scratch. I'm not convinced, but I am glad that the whole process is over.
He leaves again, and this time comes back with a guy, same rank, much different walk and demeanor and a name tag that says "senior resident." I'm feeling slightly better. He seems to know what he's doing. Pink eye, they say. Then they leave. They say nothing to me at all. They just walked out. Really? I wait about ten to fifteen minutes, as an exhausted Taylor falls asleep with the bright lights on in the bed. I open the door, and catch the eye of someone. I tell him that we've been waiting and the doctors left and said nothing, and I'd like to know what's going on. He returns to tell me that the doctor is doing paperwork, and that he'll be right back. The doctor jr returns and apologizes, not for leaving without communicating at all, but for the wait. He prescribes the ointment, and asks if I have any questions. He was very unthorough about it. Thank goodness I knew what to do from when I had pink eye.
Thank goodness, also, that Madigan sends a survey for every time you go to the hospital. Until now, I've never filled one out. I will definitely be filling this one out when it arrives. The hospital did call and schedule a follow up appointment for Monday. I can't wait to tell the doctor about my experience when I arrive.
I also, like an idiot, left the stroller in the car. So I had to carry a sleeping Taylor, her diaper bag and my purse to the pharmacy, which was at least a ten minute walk through the entire hospital. At the pharmacy, there was a wheelchair so I set her in it sleeping, albeit crunched up. I used it to wheel our way back to the ER and left it by the door. Back at home, I attempted to apply the first round of medicine to a sleeping wubba. She flinched every time I came near the eye, so I'm not sure if any actually got in the eye. But, we'd see tomorrow how it looked. It was late, and I was off to bed.
Monday, November 2, 2009
1,2 Nov2009 - Day 86,87
So I've decided that it isn't cheating to combine days. I mean, honestly, I don't have profound realizations and amazing epiphanies or action packed days every day. Some days are extraordinarily boring. Some days, I spend the morning hanging around, cleaning, cooking eggs for breakfast, watching disney channel, showering in peace during a wubba mayter nap, then venturing over the the Delmos house for an evening of the most delicious pork chops of my life, three vodka/sprite zeros, and extreme makeover: home edition. Yes, some days are Sundays.
I could, however, devote an entire day's blog to the win of the ravens over the devil spawn broncos. (haha woman and brian) I almost feel as though I am doing an injustice to the great 2010 Ravens by not devoting a blog just to the day of their triumph over the crappos. But, then, would it be too much hoopla over A win. It would almost put too much emphasis on one singular win. It would almost suggest that we win so infrequently, that a whole day's blog should be devoted to the rare and elusive event. But, no. Our streak of losses was broken, and a paragraph in a blog devoted to two days is sufficient celebratory remark space. (Some would call it gloating.)
Today, Monday, was great. Taylor woke up at 7am sharp (dang daylights savings time!); my alarm ringing in unison to her dainty inquisitive "mommy?"s. We jumped out of bed, eager to begin the day. (HAHA. Bet everyone that knows me is like "yeah, right.") I stumbled out, sleepy eyed. I think some eyelashes were stuck to my face. A diaper change, outfit change, and bed making later, we were headed downstairs for breakfast. Sadie in tow, I deposited her outside in the (sigh) fenced yard (so jealous, delmos. So jealous) to do her business while I fed Taylor some creme caramel yogurt parfait, brewed the sweet nectar of the gods for myself, and miked some veggie sausages. (I noticed that Sabrina prefers to call them soy sausages. Funny, the things we tell ourselves. I feel better thinking they are made of veggies. She feels better thinking they are made of soy. Not sure which is more accurate.) Woman eventually made it downstairs, and we were on our way a bit earlier than, quite frankly, ever before. We stopped for her to get some coffee, and to the Little Gym we went. Arriving early for the first time ever, I registered for our next session. Taylor and I will now be able to go every Monday until June! I chose the three tier payment plan, because that allows me to save the cash each time and not have to use the bank account. The class went alright, but Taylor was slightly cranky and tired and thus, less cooperative and social. I don't know if it's the time change, or the teething; but she has like three teeth breaking through all at once. Poor baby. After the Little Gym, we pit stopped at Costco so woman could get some christmas presents that she'd seen there before. Of course, we were both dissapointed. There were no samplers, and both gifts she'd been looking for were gone. I did find a small gift for Delmo for christmas, and she bought some scotch tape for wrapping presents. I dropped her off at her house, then proceeded to my house for the dog leash and then to Darina's to drop Taylor off. I headed back to Sabrina's, where we had lunch and then were on our way for our 3.7 mile walk with ALL three dogs. It was smooth sailing until we got to a road about halfway in our loop. It was a "country" road. Neighborhoods, and farms lining it; there was no sidewalk and barely a shoulder. Cars were zooming by, some were veering into the oncoming lane to give us space. The dogs were freaking out; Scruffy refused to walk and was carried. Dash whined and cried. Sadie, however, was on the best behavior of the entire walk. Wierd dog. After we decided that our lives were more important than this three mile walk, we determined that we'd try different spots each Monday. We'll do the airfield loop (a few miles) on base, we'll go downtown Tacoma and do the new dog friendly loop. Our goal is to walk a few miles each Monday. And judging by the burn of my knee pits, inner thighs, and calves when I flex; I could use the continued exercise. I really want to be healthy. I don't smoke, but my lower back hurts when I sit too long. My stomach muscles feel on fire from the yoga, and are obviously all stretched apart from Miss Taylor. I'd like to strenghthen them before I have permanent back issues. Already, I feel improved posture from the yoga, and less back pain. Plus, it totally beat laying around doing nothing all day or running errands.
We are new women now!
I could, however, devote an entire day's blog to the win of the ravens over the devil spawn broncos. (haha woman and brian) I almost feel as though I am doing an injustice to the great 2010 Ravens by not devoting a blog just to the day of their triumph over the crappos. But, then, would it be too much hoopla over A win. It would almost put too much emphasis on one singular win. It would almost suggest that we win so infrequently, that a whole day's blog should be devoted to the rare and elusive event. But, no. Our streak of losses was broken, and a paragraph in a blog devoted to two days is sufficient celebratory remark space. (Some would call it gloating.)
Today, Monday, was great. Taylor woke up at 7am sharp (dang daylights savings time!); my alarm ringing in unison to her dainty inquisitive "mommy?"s. We jumped out of bed, eager to begin the day. (HAHA. Bet everyone that knows me is like "yeah, right.") I stumbled out, sleepy eyed. I think some eyelashes were stuck to my face. A diaper change, outfit change, and bed making later, we were headed downstairs for breakfast. Sadie in tow, I deposited her outside in the (sigh) fenced yard (so jealous, delmos. So jealous) to do her business while I fed Taylor some creme caramel yogurt parfait, brewed the sweet nectar of the gods for myself, and miked some veggie sausages. (I noticed that Sabrina prefers to call them soy sausages. Funny, the things we tell ourselves. I feel better thinking they are made of veggies. She feels better thinking they are made of soy. Not sure which is more accurate.) Woman eventually made it downstairs, and we were on our way a bit earlier than, quite frankly, ever before. We stopped for her to get some coffee, and to the Little Gym we went. Arriving early for the first time ever, I registered for our next session. Taylor and I will now be able to go every Monday until June! I chose the three tier payment plan, because that allows me to save the cash each time and not have to use the bank account. The class went alright, but Taylor was slightly cranky and tired and thus, less cooperative and social. I don't know if it's the time change, or the teething; but she has like three teeth breaking through all at once. Poor baby. After the Little Gym, we pit stopped at Costco so woman could get some christmas presents that she'd seen there before. Of course, we were both dissapointed. There were no samplers, and both gifts she'd been looking for were gone. I did find a small gift for Delmo for christmas, and she bought some scotch tape for wrapping presents. I dropped her off at her house, then proceeded to my house for the dog leash and then to Darina's to drop Taylor off. I headed back to Sabrina's, where we had lunch and then were on our way for our 3.7 mile walk with ALL three dogs. It was smooth sailing until we got to a road about halfway in our loop. It was a "country" road. Neighborhoods, and farms lining it; there was no sidewalk and barely a shoulder. Cars were zooming by, some were veering into the oncoming lane to give us space. The dogs were freaking out; Scruffy refused to walk and was carried. Dash whined and cried. Sadie, however, was on the best behavior of the entire walk. Wierd dog. After we decided that our lives were more important than this three mile walk, we determined that we'd try different spots each Monday. We'll do the airfield loop (a few miles) on base, we'll go downtown Tacoma and do the new dog friendly loop. Our goal is to walk a few miles each Monday. And judging by the burn of my knee pits, inner thighs, and calves when I flex; I could use the continued exercise. I really want to be healthy. I don't smoke, but my lower back hurts when I sit too long. My stomach muscles feel on fire from the yoga, and are obviously all stretched apart from Miss Taylor. I'd like to strenghthen them before I have permanent back issues. Already, I feel improved posture from the yoga, and less back pain. Plus, it totally beat laying around doing nothing all day or running errands.
We are new women now!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
31Oct2009 - Day 85
In an effort to curtail any further procrastination in my blogging, I've decided to just start now and then go back and fill in the missing days as I can. I don't want it to get to the point where I am like "eh, forget it." and not finish it for the rest of the year.
Ah, Halloween. This one was much different than any previous halloweens. This one had no plans of drunken debauchery, no outlandish costuming complete with phony spray-in haircolor. Nope, this was my first G rated Halloween. Well, PG if you count the fact that I did have a corona while out trick or treating. The day started out ordinarily enough. Taylor and I lazed about the house, random bits of cleaning and laundry thrown in for good measure. As is becoming the new tradition on the weekends, I made us a full breakfast. Butterscotch pancakes, today. We ate, we watched cartoons, we played, we read books. Then we napped. I thought about accomplishing things while she napped; but alas, I succumbed to the nap demons myself. Or angels, really. We slept for about two hours; although I swear it took me half of that to fall asleep.
Halloween night was packed with social activity for us. We went to Alicia's house for an hour for her party, then trick or treating with Amelia and a few other parents on base. Her husband is also in the Army, and she has a two year old. It was perfect for Taylor. We got them all ready, and loaded into the stroller. Off we went, to the new houses which were like triplexes. It was already almost seven, and getting dark; but we figured it was prime trick or treating time. I think we were a little late, because most houses were out of candy. Everyone who did have some was outside, sitting on their porch. Taylor loved it. She'd be out of the stroller, bounding, running up the front walk. Before I could even have her pumpkin trick or treat basket off of the hook on the stroller, she'd be up there with a bundle of other children. On occasion, we managed to get her to say "trick or treat", but it sounded more like "tee teet." (It was still adorable.) All in all, we probably hit 8-10 houses, and thankfully got a selection of candy other than chocolate. (I was, however, excited for the kit kats that we did get!) Afterwards, we went over to the Delmos to see all of Delmos decorations. He had a smoke machine, moving spiders, and groaning corpse things on ropes, along with spooky music and a strobe light. It was not for the faint of heart. He was darn near out of candy, and had made more than a few little girls cry. Taylor did great walking up the front walk until he turned the smoke on. I don't know if it was the hissing noise that it made, or the fact that it came sweeping over half of her body so quickly but she beelined for me, and tugged her way up into my arms. Her little grip was fierce, and she made it clear when I tried, that I was not to put her down until the smoke had cleared. We chuckled and made our way inside to eat a few bits of candy. In the kitchen, we somehow all ended up on the floor attempting to eat nerds. Somehow, under the eye of the video camera, Taylor figured out that it was hilarious to "push" mommy over. Of course she wasn't strong enough to, or even trying with much force; but she thought it was great to push me over, then help me back up. We did it over and over and over.
Surprisingly, it was ten and she was still awake; but the crankiness was creeping in...almost as fast as the smoke had over her little legs. We said our goodbyes and drove home. I was super nervous driving home, because it was a Saturday Halloween night. All the drunks would be out driving soon, so I wanted to hurry up and get home safely. We did, with her fast asleep before we even left the Delmos neighborhood.
Her sack of potatoes costume was definitely a hit all around, and I am proud of myself for thinking of it in the first place. I figured that this would be the last one I'd be able to choose a costume for her, so I wanted to do something funny.
I had a great time with her, and got a couple of pictures; I can't wait to do it again next year!
Ah, Halloween. This one was much different than any previous halloweens. This one had no plans of drunken debauchery, no outlandish costuming complete with phony spray-in haircolor. Nope, this was my first G rated Halloween. Well, PG if you count the fact that I did have a corona while out trick or treating. The day started out ordinarily enough. Taylor and I lazed about the house, random bits of cleaning and laundry thrown in for good measure. As is becoming the new tradition on the weekends, I made us a full breakfast. Butterscotch pancakes, today. We ate, we watched cartoons, we played, we read books. Then we napped. I thought about accomplishing things while she napped; but alas, I succumbed to the nap demons myself. Or angels, really. We slept for about two hours; although I swear it took me half of that to fall asleep.
Halloween night was packed with social activity for us. We went to Alicia's house for an hour for her party, then trick or treating with Amelia and a few other parents on base. Her husband is also in the Army, and she has a two year old. It was perfect for Taylor. We got them all ready, and loaded into the stroller. Off we went, to the new houses which were like triplexes. It was already almost seven, and getting dark; but we figured it was prime trick or treating time. I think we were a little late, because most houses were out of candy. Everyone who did have some was outside, sitting on their porch. Taylor loved it. She'd be out of the stroller, bounding, running up the front walk. Before I could even have her pumpkin trick or treat basket off of the hook on the stroller, she'd be up there with a bundle of other children. On occasion, we managed to get her to say "trick or treat", but it sounded more like "tee teet." (It was still adorable.) All in all, we probably hit 8-10 houses, and thankfully got a selection of candy other than chocolate. (I was, however, excited for the kit kats that we did get!) Afterwards, we went over to the Delmos to see all of Delmos decorations. He had a smoke machine, moving spiders, and groaning corpse things on ropes, along with spooky music and a strobe light. It was not for the faint of heart. He was darn near out of candy, and had made more than a few little girls cry. Taylor did great walking up the front walk until he turned the smoke on. I don't know if it was the hissing noise that it made, or the fact that it came sweeping over half of her body so quickly but she beelined for me, and tugged her way up into my arms. Her little grip was fierce, and she made it clear when I tried, that I was not to put her down until the smoke had cleared. We chuckled and made our way inside to eat a few bits of candy. In the kitchen, we somehow all ended up on the floor attempting to eat nerds. Somehow, under the eye of the video camera, Taylor figured out that it was hilarious to "push" mommy over. Of course she wasn't strong enough to, or even trying with much force; but she thought it was great to push me over, then help me back up. We did it over and over and over.
Surprisingly, it was ten and she was still awake; but the crankiness was creeping in...almost as fast as the smoke had over her little legs. We said our goodbyes and drove home. I was super nervous driving home, because it was a Saturday Halloween night. All the drunks would be out driving soon, so I wanted to hurry up and get home safely. We did, with her fast asleep before we even left the Delmos neighborhood.
Her sack of potatoes costume was definitely a hit all around, and I am proud of myself for thinking of it in the first place. I figured that this would be the last one I'd be able to choose a costume for her, so I wanted to do something funny.
I had a great time with her, and got a couple of pictures; I can't wait to do it again next year!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
16,17,18 Oct2009 - Day 70,71,72
The days after his death, over the weekend, were full of emotion. Mostly, I was in a fog. I couldn't sleep, but the endless coffee supply wasn't working either. We were all exhausted. We struggled to keep up. It wasn't all misery and sadness. There was a lot of family around, and coming and going of numerous family friends.
I was struck most by Mr. Max. Pepeir's best friend, and neighbor across the street for thirty years. Thirty years. I think of the relationship that I have with my longest friend, Sabrina. We've been friends for, like, ten years. I feel like she is my family. She is like another sister to me. Pepeir and Max saw each other every day. They helped each other with everything, through everything. Together, out in the workshops or in each other's yards, they forged a brotherhood. Max's despair wore heavily on him. He was truly heartbroken. We should all be so lucky to have such a friend. It was especially hard to watch him, appearing in the yard, leafblower on his back, grooming the lawn as he'd helped do all through the summer when Pepeir could not. It was as if he was reaching out for some sort of normalcy. For years, they'd groomed each other's lawns- fought moles, weeds, pests and critters- cut down enormous trees, moved sheds, built things. Now, it was just Max. I was acutely aware of the profound loneliness that hung about him as he shuffled along, blowing the leaves. It was truly a moment where I wanted, more than anything, to wear his pain as my own - to save him from having to feel it.
The New England Invasion came. Aunt Barbie (Bahbie) from Buffalo, New Yahk. Aunt Eileen and Uncle Frank, from South Carolina (Maine, really, for most of their lives) (Picturing them in South Carolina is like picturing George Bush at Gay Pride. Something just not quite right about it. They are true Nahtherners.) As Dana so wittily put it, r's were dropping like flies all over the shore. Not having spent much time with Memeir's brother and sisters, in my adulthood anyway, I can truly say that they were wonderful. They were a joy. Their presence was comforting. They sounded like faheigners, with their accents, but felt like family. I truly enjoyed being around them and getting to know them.
Billy and I had our first real fight, as adults. To put it shortly, he internalized his feelings, and probably tried to ignore them. He went out a lot, which I thought wasn't appropriate. I told him so, and he said two choice words to me that started with f and ended in you. I wasn't really mad, just frustrated that he wasn't talking to me. I feel more protective over him than a little bit, and just wanted to be there for him I think. I know he picked the fight with me. And I know why. Sometimes, emotions don't always come to the surface when they should. Sometimes, we have a really tough time trying to express them. Sometimes, often times, they are preceded by misguided anger and, in Billy and my case, always forgiven. Often, I've wished we lived nearer to each other. Our whole lives, it seems, we've lived in different states, different cities. We've forged one of the closest relationships and bonds I've had in my whole life, via holidays and long lost road trips to Maine. Our fight was short lived, perhaps two hours, and it ended in tears and hugs and a wonderful conversation cut short only by the fact that we were conversing in the twin room in Memeir's very busy house. A twin room that wasn't ours, but Cindy's. Needless to say, before the week was out, we took a walk around Deer Harbour and just...talked. During the walk, there were things that I could tell were lurking just under the surface of our casual conversation. Apologies, rehashing, understanding...but they didn't need to be said. We both knew.
Michelle was at the house almost every free chance she got. It was amazing to me how she always seemed to say the right thing, be there at the right time, somehow save the day. She got a playpen for Taylor to sleep in while we were there. It was cute, too; one of the ancient ones like I used to play in as a child. As a child, she was truly difficult for the adults. She was strong willed, determined to be defiant, threw temper tantrums that would make even Pepeir frustrated. My mother even once poured a bucket of cold water (waden) over her head. A really huge bucket. It was amazing. The child had powers to zap the patience and resolve of even the most Dr. Spock loving adult. But, never did her and I have any issues. I was a touch older, and when she got truly out of hand, I would try to talk her into behaving. Like a younger sister, she tended to just want to hang with me, so she'd chill out. But, I have to say. She is an amazing woman. I got to know her so much more as an adult during this trip, as well. She is strong, smart, and says exactly what she feels. She doesn't apologize for being herself, and nor should she. She is caring, and thoughtful, and understands us crazy people more than most of us understand ourselves.
The few days leading upto the funeral were gray, and rainy and cold. But the warmth in the house was incredible. Quickly, I started to miss the shore. I started to yearn for the closeness of my family. I felt that some part, if not all, of my heart lived down here. The smell of chicken manuere in the spring. The glorious violence of the hurricanes on the beach in the fall. The endless supply of vicious mosquitoes and fireflies in the summer. The really bizzarely resilient daddy longlegs spiders ?all year long?. (I don't remember them in October, but I guess so). The ridiculous amount of other arachnids. Ok, so it isn't all roses and strawberry jam; but it's my roots.
I was struck most by Mr. Max. Pepeir's best friend, and neighbor across the street for thirty years. Thirty years. I think of the relationship that I have with my longest friend, Sabrina. We've been friends for, like, ten years. I feel like she is my family. She is like another sister to me. Pepeir and Max saw each other every day. They helped each other with everything, through everything. Together, out in the workshops or in each other's yards, they forged a brotherhood. Max's despair wore heavily on him. He was truly heartbroken. We should all be so lucky to have such a friend. It was especially hard to watch him, appearing in the yard, leafblower on his back, grooming the lawn as he'd helped do all through the summer when Pepeir could not. It was as if he was reaching out for some sort of normalcy. For years, they'd groomed each other's lawns- fought moles, weeds, pests and critters- cut down enormous trees, moved sheds, built things. Now, it was just Max. I was acutely aware of the profound loneliness that hung about him as he shuffled along, blowing the leaves. It was truly a moment where I wanted, more than anything, to wear his pain as my own - to save him from having to feel it.
The New England Invasion came. Aunt Barbie (Bahbie) from Buffalo, New Yahk. Aunt Eileen and Uncle Frank, from South Carolina (Maine, really, for most of their lives) (Picturing them in South Carolina is like picturing George Bush at Gay Pride. Something just not quite right about it. They are true Nahtherners.) As Dana so wittily put it, r's were dropping like flies all over the shore. Not having spent much time with Memeir's brother and sisters, in my adulthood anyway, I can truly say that they were wonderful. They were a joy. Their presence was comforting. They sounded like faheigners, with their accents, but felt like family. I truly enjoyed being around them and getting to know them.
Billy and I had our first real fight, as adults. To put it shortly, he internalized his feelings, and probably tried to ignore them. He went out a lot, which I thought wasn't appropriate. I told him so, and he said two choice words to me that started with f and ended in you. I wasn't really mad, just frustrated that he wasn't talking to me. I feel more protective over him than a little bit, and just wanted to be there for him I think. I know he picked the fight with me. And I know why. Sometimes, emotions don't always come to the surface when they should. Sometimes, we have a really tough time trying to express them. Sometimes, often times, they are preceded by misguided anger and, in Billy and my case, always forgiven. Often, I've wished we lived nearer to each other. Our whole lives, it seems, we've lived in different states, different cities. We've forged one of the closest relationships and bonds I've had in my whole life, via holidays and long lost road trips to Maine. Our fight was short lived, perhaps two hours, and it ended in tears and hugs and a wonderful conversation cut short only by the fact that we were conversing in the twin room in Memeir's very busy house. A twin room that wasn't ours, but Cindy's. Needless to say, before the week was out, we took a walk around Deer Harbour and just...talked. During the walk, there were things that I could tell were lurking just under the surface of our casual conversation. Apologies, rehashing, understanding...but they didn't need to be said. We both knew.
Michelle was at the house almost every free chance she got. It was amazing to me how she always seemed to say the right thing, be there at the right time, somehow save the day. She got a playpen for Taylor to sleep in while we were there. It was cute, too; one of the ancient ones like I used to play in as a child. As a child, she was truly difficult for the adults. She was strong willed, determined to be defiant, threw temper tantrums that would make even Pepeir frustrated. My mother even once poured a bucket of cold water (waden) over her head. A really huge bucket. It was amazing. The child had powers to zap the patience and resolve of even the most Dr. Spock loving adult. But, never did her and I have any issues. I was a touch older, and when she got truly out of hand, I would try to talk her into behaving. Like a younger sister, she tended to just want to hang with me, so she'd chill out. But, I have to say. She is an amazing woman. I got to know her so much more as an adult during this trip, as well. She is strong, smart, and says exactly what she feels. She doesn't apologize for being herself, and nor should she. She is caring, and thoughtful, and understands us crazy people more than most of us understand ourselves.
The few days leading upto the funeral were gray, and rainy and cold. But the warmth in the house was incredible. Quickly, I started to miss the shore. I started to yearn for the closeness of my family. I felt that some part, if not all, of my heart lived down here. The smell of chicken manuere in the spring. The glorious violence of the hurricanes on the beach in the fall. The endless supply of vicious mosquitoes and fireflies in the summer. The really bizzarely resilient daddy longlegs spiders ?all year long?. (I don't remember them in October, but I guess so). The ridiculous amount of other arachnids. Ok, so it isn't all roses and strawberry jam; but it's my roots.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
15Oct2009 - Day 69
The last blog was the first time I've said that Pepeir died. I've not said it aloud. I don't know if I can. I can only say that he passed. For some reason, it sounds so much more pleasant. It makes it sound as though he's moving on to something better. It makes it sound less final. It makes it feel less painful.
It was strange, how quickly the life left his body. Within minutes I noticed how different his face was. It was hard, and cold, and suddenly his cheeks were gaunt. He was gone. The most amazing man I've ever known had left his body and was gone. Seeing death happen was jarring. I didn't expect there to be a difference in how he looked so immediately and so noticably. Everyone was crying. Some were pacing, angry, scared. Some were quiet, sullen and staring. Memeir was sobbing quietly at his side. I kept it together, for the few hours his body was with us, until the two men from the funeral home arrived to take him. They were going to move him. They said that the family would probably prefer to leave the room, because it was hard to watch. Everyone stayed. I kept picturing it. I pictured his head falling back, and no one catching it. Like a sleeping child being picked up, but this was no sleeping child. It was my strong, gentle, loving, wonderful Pepeir. This was a site I knew I couldn't bear. I left and went into the living room. I walked in, and was overcome like I've never been overcome before. I staggered, falling onto the edge of a chair. I felt faint, and could barely walk to sit in the chair. I held myself so tightly. I rocked. I cried quietly. I heard the bed squeaking, and the horrible sliding noise of the thick plastic bag that he was being placed on. I couldn't stop hearing it. I couldn't take it. Bruce came in and saw me, and stood in front of me and blocked the view to where the men were taking Pepeir outside. He rubbed my back, and I sobbed. Mom came and sat next to me, and I sobbed louder. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I needed to cry. I lost my Pepeir. I had to cry as much as I could. I couldn't breathe and I kept crying and crying. I knew everyone was around me now, but I didn't care. I wasn't embarrassed of the love I felt, and the grief I felt. Slowly, I calmed down and people trickled out of the room. Soon it was just a few of us. Then, something turned my sobs into laughter. Mom farted. (sorry mom, for putting it out there). But, it was loud and funny and so totally innapropriate and obviously accidental. We all roared for a few minutes and I started to breathe again. I will cry for Pepeir, probably often and for the rest of my life. But, I will never cry like that again. I don't know if I could ever cry like that again.
I went to bed, sometime around 3 or 4 am; because I knew that Taylor would be up in the morning no matter what time I went to sleep. Strangely, too, after Pepeir passed, Dana put her to sleep and she went right to sleep. It was as if she knew, and wanted to be there. Truly, if I've learned or experienced anything, it's that we are all truly connected. She can't communicate well, at all. But, I truly believe that she knew. I truly believe that she said goodbye, the she grieved..if only for a few brief minutes. It was as though she had some sort of clarity in her face both times that she was in the room with Pepeir, and it was brief and it was something amazing to see.
That day was a blur of activity, phone calls, food arriving, family coming and going. Billy arrived in the early evening. For all of us who'd witnessed it, there was a definite darkness that Billy didn't have. I was truly sad for him not to have been there, but it was really difficult to see and the protective, older cousin in me was glad that he wasn't. Memeir seemed to not be able to even sit down in a chair, let alone stop calling and arranging. I don't know where she found the strength, but she did and I was inspired...She called each and every family member and close friend, herself. Over and over again, she did it. Over and over again, she told them that he had died. I don't know how she did it. She wouldn't let us help her. She kept saying that she wanted to tell all the people that he loved and that loved him the most, herself. It truly moved me. I hope that if I am ever in her situation, I handle it with the grace and strength that she did.
I felt out of place. I felt lost. Already, I didn't know what to do with myself or my feelings. I just kept drinking coffee. I didn't bring my big cup with me, so I was super annoyed with having to refill and refill. I wanted a drink, a real one. Real bad. I wanted maybe a few of them. It hurt really badly, and it didn't stop hurting. Even when there were jokes, and hugs, and coffee. It hurt. I understand wanting to numb that hurt, but I also believe that I need to feel that hurt to understand it, to understand the opposite of it, to really grieve and learn to move on and be healthy.
I felt an array of emotions. Anger at Uncle Mike for leaving and going home. Sadness when I saw the picture of Pepeir that Dr. Raab had made. Uncertainty about what to do to help Memeir. Awe of my mother who kept it together, and kept the house running. Gratitude toward Cathy who always seemed to know what to do to help, and seemed to never mind. The first day without Pepeir was the first day of the rest of our family. This day was awkward, and sad, and the hurt was so fresh on all of us. Over the course of the week, we'd all try to fill his shoes. We'd all try to step into his roles. Over the course of the week, I marvelled at how it took all of us to do it. And how even with all of us trying, we seemed to fall short. But, on this day, this first day, we were just us. We were just inherently us, sad and grieving and alone. Everyone seemed alone with their grief, despite our physical togetherness. I wanted comfort, but so did everyone else. Yet, none of us could do what we all wanted. None of us could bring back our Pepeir.
It was strange, how quickly the life left his body. Within minutes I noticed how different his face was. It was hard, and cold, and suddenly his cheeks were gaunt. He was gone. The most amazing man I've ever known had left his body and was gone. Seeing death happen was jarring. I didn't expect there to be a difference in how he looked so immediately and so noticably. Everyone was crying. Some were pacing, angry, scared. Some were quiet, sullen and staring. Memeir was sobbing quietly at his side. I kept it together, for the few hours his body was with us, until the two men from the funeral home arrived to take him. They were going to move him. They said that the family would probably prefer to leave the room, because it was hard to watch. Everyone stayed. I kept picturing it. I pictured his head falling back, and no one catching it. Like a sleeping child being picked up, but this was no sleeping child. It was my strong, gentle, loving, wonderful Pepeir. This was a site I knew I couldn't bear. I left and went into the living room. I walked in, and was overcome like I've never been overcome before. I staggered, falling onto the edge of a chair. I felt faint, and could barely walk to sit in the chair. I held myself so tightly. I rocked. I cried quietly. I heard the bed squeaking, and the horrible sliding noise of the thick plastic bag that he was being placed on. I couldn't stop hearing it. I couldn't take it. Bruce came in and saw me, and stood in front of me and blocked the view to where the men were taking Pepeir outside. He rubbed my back, and I sobbed. Mom came and sat next to me, and I sobbed louder. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I needed to cry. I lost my Pepeir. I had to cry as much as I could. I couldn't breathe and I kept crying and crying. I knew everyone was around me now, but I didn't care. I wasn't embarrassed of the love I felt, and the grief I felt. Slowly, I calmed down and people trickled out of the room. Soon it was just a few of us. Then, something turned my sobs into laughter. Mom farted. (sorry mom, for putting it out there). But, it was loud and funny and so totally innapropriate and obviously accidental. We all roared for a few minutes and I started to breathe again. I will cry for Pepeir, probably often and for the rest of my life. But, I will never cry like that again. I don't know if I could ever cry like that again.
I went to bed, sometime around 3 or 4 am; because I knew that Taylor would be up in the morning no matter what time I went to sleep. Strangely, too, after Pepeir passed, Dana put her to sleep and she went right to sleep. It was as if she knew, and wanted to be there. Truly, if I've learned or experienced anything, it's that we are all truly connected. She can't communicate well, at all. But, I truly believe that she knew. I truly believe that she said goodbye, the she grieved..if only for a few brief minutes. It was as though she had some sort of clarity in her face both times that she was in the room with Pepeir, and it was brief and it was something amazing to see.
That day was a blur of activity, phone calls, food arriving, family coming and going. Billy arrived in the early evening. For all of us who'd witnessed it, there was a definite darkness that Billy didn't have. I was truly sad for him not to have been there, but it was really difficult to see and the protective, older cousin in me was glad that he wasn't. Memeir seemed to not be able to even sit down in a chair, let alone stop calling and arranging. I don't know where she found the strength, but she did and I was inspired...She called each and every family member and close friend, herself. Over and over again, she did it. Over and over again, she told them that he had died. I don't know how she did it. She wouldn't let us help her. She kept saying that she wanted to tell all the people that he loved and that loved him the most, herself. It truly moved me. I hope that if I am ever in her situation, I handle it with the grace and strength that she did.
I felt out of place. I felt lost. Already, I didn't know what to do with myself or my feelings. I just kept drinking coffee. I didn't bring my big cup with me, so I was super annoyed with having to refill and refill. I wanted a drink, a real one. Real bad. I wanted maybe a few of them. It hurt really badly, and it didn't stop hurting. Even when there were jokes, and hugs, and coffee. It hurt. I understand wanting to numb that hurt, but I also believe that I need to feel that hurt to understand it, to understand the opposite of it, to really grieve and learn to move on and be healthy.
I felt an array of emotions. Anger at Uncle Mike for leaving and going home. Sadness when I saw the picture of Pepeir that Dr. Raab had made. Uncertainty about what to do to help Memeir. Awe of my mother who kept it together, and kept the house running. Gratitude toward Cathy who always seemed to know what to do to help, and seemed to never mind. The first day without Pepeir was the first day of the rest of our family. This day was awkward, and sad, and the hurt was so fresh on all of us. Over the course of the week, we'd all try to fill his shoes. We'd all try to step into his roles. Over the course of the week, I marvelled at how it took all of us to do it. And how even with all of us trying, we seemed to fall short. But, on this day, this first day, we were just us. We were just inherently us, sad and grieving and alone. Everyone seemed alone with their grief, despite our physical togetherness. I wanted comfort, but so did everyone else. Yet, none of us could do what we all wanted. None of us could bring back our Pepeir.
14Oct2009 - Day 68
The beginning of some of the toughest days I've faced. Mom woke me up at 6:30 in the morning, so I knew it wasn't good news. I answered and she said "Kristy, you need to get on a plane as soon as possible. And I hope you make it." After I hung up, I layed in bed for a few minutes; absorbing, waking up, preparing myself to deal with what was to come. I jumped out of bed, and went down to start looking at flights for the day. Of course, the wireless network wasn't finding the internet. Ugh. I started to feel frantic and worried. Finally, I got it to work, and started looking. I was somewhere between covering my shift, and calling Sabrina for the ninetieth time trying to get her up to talk to when I realized that the only flight out was at 11:25 in the morning. Only three hours from the current time. And we live an hour away. And I have animals. And how long will I be there? Should I pack funeral clothes? Is it wrong to think of that? Is thinking of funeral clothes like wishing for Pepeir to be dead? I definitely don't ever want that. When I was a little girl, whenever there was a shooting star or I had a birthday wish, I'd wish for Memeir and Pepeir to live forever. And I did that until I was...29? I never told anyone either, for fear that it wouldn't come true. How long should I pack for? Where would the animals go? How will I get to the airport?
And so the stress, and urgency began. And it didn't stop until...maybe tonight (tuesday oct27).
Sabrina called back and said that she and Delmo were on their way. They would drive us to the airport, and go back and get the animals and take out the trash etc. When she arrived, I'd half packed, showered, and was getting ready to get Taylor up. She grabbed Taylor and changed her, prepared breakfast for both of us. She packed us snacks for the airplane ride, and formula for the trip. It was amazing, I wouldn't have made it out of the house on time without her.
The plane ride went really well. On the long trip, from Seattle to Philly, we were lucky to have an aisle seat, and an empty middle seat for lap-riding-Taylor to sit in. The hop from Philly to Salisbury was literally long enough to receive a drink from the flight attendant, change Taylor's diaper, and eat a nutri grain bar. It was only a 45 minute flight. We were in row 8, and that was the second to last row of the plane.
When we arrived, I spotted Dana, Mom, and Michelle through the window. The airport is tiny, so we went inside and greeted everyone and despite the circumstances, it was sort of cheerful. Taylor tends to do that. At this point, I was still hopeful and worried that Pepeir would recover and get bad again and I was contemplating how I would afford another trip back.
I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving. Seeing Pepeir then meant a lot to me.
On the way to the house was when my denial, or hope was lost. Mom said to prepare myself. I asked some questions. Was he eating through a tube? Was he conscious at all? Would he wake up to speak to us? What really struck me, horrified, scared me was when mom said that they'd stopped feeding him. He was receiving no nourishment, no water. His lungs were filling with fluid and he was on morphine to keep him from flailing about or feeling too much pain. He was not conscious, and would likely not be again.
When I arrived, I saw everyone; but not really. As I came in the back kitchen doors, as usual, I saw him. Or, I saw his bed. It was in the family room. It wasn't his bed from upstairs, as I'd pictured. It was a hospital bed. Everyone was gathered round him. Memeir was sitting next to him, holding his hand, and looking...like she was losing the love of her life. She looked distraught; but wasn't sobbing. She just looked sadder than I've ever seen.
He was thin, frail. But his hair was still so soft as I'd always remembered it. I didn't know what to do. As we entered, someone picked up Taylor. I can't remember who it was. But she saw her Pepeir. She stared at him, with a very somber, almost sad look. Looking at her, you'd think she understood what was going on. For ten or twenty minutes, she just stared at her Pepeir. Maybe she was saying goodbye to him in her head, with her eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I just picked up his hand. His eyes were closed. They told me to talk to him, to tell him we were here. My eyes welled with tears. I was also embarrassed to talk to him. I don't know why; it just didn't seem right. I talked, though. I told him we were here for him and how much we loved him and how much he has always meant to us.
It was difficult. Taylor began to show signs of being tired, so I resigned to put her to bed. I needed a moment to decompress what I had just seen and heard. Everyone was there, Bruce, Bill, Mike, Mom, Cathy, Terry, Dana, Jeremy, Michelle. Pepeir was breathing, like he was sleeping peacefully. Occasionally a strange noise would escape from his throat, or lungs. He seemed in a coma. The room felt different than it always had when I'd been there. The grief and sorrow was everywhere. It was so thick. It choked you. This place, this home, these grandparents. My entire life they were my childhood joy, my stability, my solace, my purity, the definition of unconditional love. This was my nightmare. This was a day I knew would come. This was a day that I dreaded more than any other day I could think of. Ever since I was young, and learned what death was, I had always dreaded the death of my memeir and pepeir. I've cried at night, thinking of it, many times. I've missed them when I was gone, across the country, and felt such separation anxiety that I was almost compelled to stay with them when Adam left...both times. The fear of this day, is like the maytermares. I would be living a regular day, and something would trigger a thought of them dying. And I'd sob, or just be trapped in fear and feel inconsolable. No amount of comforting, or rational logic applied ever made me feel better. I would feel a hollow aching in my chest so painful I thought there was something physically wrong with me. This was a day I never wanted to face...
Upstairs, Taylor was refusing to sleep. I laid up there so long that I got angry, feeling like I was missing precious few hours with Pepeir that I could be downstairs. I called Dana up to lay with Taylor. As I went into the family room, I saw mom listening to Pepeir's chest. I said something awkward, asked some stupied question that no one answered. Then, I swear it, Pepeir smiled. And then he wasn't breathing anymore. Memier wasn't in the room for the first time since we'd arrived. Mom commanded someone to get her immediately. I ran to the stairs and told Dana to come down and bring Taylor.
There, in the family room, with all of us surrounding him, my pepeir died. He. just. stopped. breathing.
And so the stress, and urgency began. And it didn't stop until...maybe tonight (tuesday oct27).
Sabrina called back and said that she and Delmo were on their way. They would drive us to the airport, and go back and get the animals and take out the trash etc. When she arrived, I'd half packed, showered, and was getting ready to get Taylor up. She grabbed Taylor and changed her, prepared breakfast for both of us. She packed us snacks for the airplane ride, and formula for the trip. It was amazing, I wouldn't have made it out of the house on time without her.
The plane ride went really well. On the long trip, from Seattle to Philly, we were lucky to have an aisle seat, and an empty middle seat for lap-riding-Taylor to sit in. The hop from Philly to Salisbury was literally long enough to receive a drink from the flight attendant, change Taylor's diaper, and eat a nutri grain bar. It was only a 45 minute flight. We were in row 8, and that was the second to last row of the plane.
When we arrived, I spotted Dana, Mom, and Michelle through the window. The airport is tiny, so we went inside and greeted everyone and despite the circumstances, it was sort of cheerful. Taylor tends to do that. At this point, I was still hopeful and worried that Pepeir would recover and get bad again and I was contemplating how I would afford another trip back.
I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving. Seeing Pepeir then meant a lot to me.
On the way to the house was when my denial, or hope was lost. Mom said to prepare myself. I asked some questions. Was he eating through a tube? Was he conscious at all? Would he wake up to speak to us? What really struck me, horrified, scared me was when mom said that they'd stopped feeding him. He was receiving no nourishment, no water. His lungs were filling with fluid and he was on morphine to keep him from flailing about or feeling too much pain. He was not conscious, and would likely not be again.
When I arrived, I saw everyone; but not really. As I came in the back kitchen doors, as usual, I saw him. Or, I saw his bed. It was in the family room. It wasn't his bed from upstairs, as I'd pictured. It was a hospital bed. Everyone was gathered round him. Memeir was sitting next to him, holding his hand, and looking...like she was losing the love of her life. She looked distraught; but wasn't sobbing. She just looked sadder than I've ever seen.
He was thin, frail. But his hair was still so soft as I'd always remembered it. I didn't know what to do. As we entered, someone picked up Taylor. I can't remember who it was. But she saw her Pepeir. She stared at him, with a very somber, almost sad look. Looking at her, you'd think she understood what was going on. For ten or twenty minutes, she just stared at her Pepeir. Maybe she was saying goodbye to him in her head, with her eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I just picked up his hand. His eyes were closed. They told me to talk to him, to tell him we were here. My eyes welled with tears. I was also embarrassed to talk to him. I don't know why; it just didn't seem right. I talked, though. I told him we were here for him and how much we loved him and how much he has always meant to us.
It was difficult. Taylor began to show signs of being tired, so I resigned to put her to bed. I needed a moment to decompress what I had just seen and heard. Everyone was there, Bruce, Bill, Mike, Mom, Cathy, Terry, Dana, Jeremy, Michelle. Pepeir was breathing, like he was sleeping peacefully. Occasionally a strange noise would escape from his throat, or lungs. He seemed in a coma. The room felt different than it always had when I'd been there. The grief and sorrow was everywhere. It was so thick. It choked you. This place, this home, these grandparents. My entire life they were my childhood joy, my stability, my solace, my purity, the definition of unconditional love. This was my nightmare. This was a day I knew would come. This was a day that I dreaded more than any other day I could think of. Ever since I was young, and learned what death was, I had always dreaded the death of my memeir and pepeir. I've cried at night, thinking of it, many times. I've missed them when I was gone, across the country, and felt such separation anxiety that I was almost compelled to stay with them when Adam left...both times. The fear of this day, is like the maytermares. I would be living a regular day, and something would trigger a thought of them dying. And I'd sob, or just be trapped in fear and feel inconsolable. No amount of comforting, or rational logic applied ever made me feel better. I would feel a hollow aching in my chest so painful I thought there was something physically wrong with me. This was a day I never wanted to face...
Upstairs, Taylor was refusing to sleep. I laid up there so long that I got angry, feeling like I was missing precious few hours with Pepeir that I could be downstairs. I called Dana up to lay with Taylor. As I went into the family room, I saw mom listening to Pepeir's chest. I said something awkward, asked some stupied question that no one answered. Then, I swear it, Pepeir smiled. And then he wasn't breathing anymore. Memier wasn't in the room for the first time since we'd arrived. Mom commanded someone to get her immediately. I ran to the stairs and told Dana to come down and bring Taylor.
There, in the family room, with all of us surrounding him, my pepeir died. He. just. stopped. breathing.
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