I don't know if it's a midlife crisis, or the fact that I am totally in love with my husband (albeit not churched, yet), but for the last year or so I've had this rather insane urge to have another baby.
Which is nearly impossible, seeing as I had my tubes tied several years ago when I thought that I was done with the whole child-bearing thing. I say nearly, because science is a wonderful thing, and I know that I can harvest eggs till the cows come home. If we can get past the whole impersonal side of invitro (ie: me on a table in stirrups and Mike in a dark room with the latest copy of Hustler or Playboy), then great! Then again there is no way to pre-implantation screen for Downs Syndrome and other things prior to fertilization and implantation. I believe that life begins at fertilization, and don't think that I could choose to toss away an imperfect life.
At the risk of seeming to be selfish or shallow, I don't want a baby with Downs or other imperfections. I want a life with Mike after retirement...yet I know that the risk of having a Downs baby at my age is great. Sarah Palin has a beautiful son with Downs...but she is her and I am me. I know my limitations.
Yet, there is nothing more that would give me pleasure than to give Mike a son or daughter. There is nothing I want more than to make a child with him. He is so incredible, in spite of his faults, and he'd be a wonderful father. He is to my girls...a son would take the cake in my eyes.
So, since I don't want to risk a bad pregnancy, or even go to the expense of invitro, I'm thinking adoption.
Maybe after I finish Nursing school.
There are so many unwanted, unplanned for babies in this world. I have a friend who has adopted 2 boys from unfit mothers. Their lives are so much better now, their potential is incredible.
This is something that I, no we, have to seriously consider. Babies change everything. I mean EVERYTHING. I have had 2...I know this.
Yet the thought of sleepless nights, diapers, formula and all daunt me not, for there is nothing that I've ever experienced that is more fulfilling to my soul than a baby. The loving, nurturing and caring for a new life. Being a mother is the most incredible thing I have ever done with my life.
I am pretty sure I want to do it again....I know that I want to share it with Mike.
I know that it's something that I need to pray over.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Vacation....
I was going to write a long post on the trip Mike and I took recently, but I decided to forgo the post...there are simply times when a paucity of words are better than a deluge..
On July 14 Mike and I departed our home and went to New Orleans, where we met up with friends to ride to the Blue Knights International, which was taking place in Chesapeake VA. In 12 days we covered 4073 miles and saw places that I've never seen before. Aside from the fact that I got heat sick in Delaware, thus missing a chance to go to New Jersey, the trip was awesome....some of the memorable places we hit were:
Yorktown, Jamestown Settlement, The Outer Banks, Kill Devil Hills, Gettysburg, the Appalachian Trace and other sites. We saw the beauty of the valleys in Pennsylvania, mist filled with farms and barns with red silos rising out of the mists. Fields of corn, wild dogs, roads that twisted through mountains following streams. We crossed Chesapeake Bay, a beautiful, glistening body of water and sandy shores. We met friendly people, helpful and concerned...not mindful of the puddle of water I left on their floor when Cherie and Jason and Mike saved me from heat stroke...(it's shocking how fast ice melts on hot flesh!)
When one grows up in the South, one hears about the brusqueness of Northerners, but the one;s we met were all politeness! Annapolis is a beautiful, friendly town...a perfect stranger puled up along side Mike and I at a stop light and raved about Texas..we raved about Maryland.
The food was to DIE for, those little country diners where one can get a proper breakfast for less than $10 a couple...I'm talking eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy with coffee and juice...the whole nine yards. The accents were cool too.
The most memorable part of the trip for me was Kill Devil Hills and the Wright Brother's Memorial.
Space flight and the exploration of space has always fascinated me. I remember watching Neil Armstrong take his first steps on the Moon...even though I was 2 at the time. There are some things that one never forgets. I suppose that I get this love from my dad, as he's always been a fan of NASA and space exploration.
So, the chance to see where it all began, Kill Devil Hills, was something I couldn't pass up. You see if it weren't for The Wright Brothers, we'd have never made it to the moon when we did.
Think about this...it was ONLY 66 years from the first flight to the first landing on the moon....such a scant amount of time, especially when one considers that the Dark Ages lasted for about a 1000 years and the Industrial Revolution took place roughly 100 or so years prior to the first flight...not even that long if I am correct.
We went from horse and carriage to space in about a century, and man has occupied this planet for thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of years before this.
So naturally I geeked out!
I walked the length of Wilbur and Orville's first 4 fights! On the very same spot! The very spot that changed the world...the very world we live in.
The progression of what we saw isn't lost on me...we went from Jamestown to Yorktown...that final battle that gained our independence from England, making us the nation we are now, to the very site that launched humans into the air. That led to humans into space...it was, and is so damn awe inspiring.
This trip really brought home to me what a great nation I am blessed enough to live in. The very founding principles of this country unleashed the potential of human intelligence and creativity into this world. The freedoms we have enabled men like the Wright Brothers to pursue their dream. The freedoms we enjoy, and take for granted, have led to the improvement of lives all over the world, whether through efficient farming techniques or through advances in medical science.
We are that beacon on the hill...calling others who desire the freedom that is God given to our shores...
Most of all, this trip reinforced the love I have for my country. It bolstered the faith I have in Humanity...when a man, or woman is free to pursue their dreams, anything is possible. Anything. Governments can try to suppress the human spirit, but they can never kill it. God designed us to dream, to achieve.
That is the Human condition. That is our destiny....to be that shining beacon on the hill. We may have to go through rough patches, but those patches are the test of one's spirit, one's determination...it does take fire to forge the strongest metal.
On July 14 Mike and I departed our home and went to New Orleans, where we met up with friends to ride to the Blue Knights International, which was taking place in Chesapeake VA. In 12 days we covered 4073 miles and saw places that I've never seen before. Aside from the fact that I got heat sick in Delaware, thus missing a chance to go to New Jersey, the trip was awesome....some of the memorable places we hit were:
Yorktown, Jamestown Settlement, The Outer Banks, Kill Devil Hills, Gettysburg, the Appalachian Trace and other sites. We saw the beauty of the valleys in Pennsylvania, mist filled with farms and barns with red silos rising out of the mists. Fields of corn, wild dogs, roads that twisted through mountains following streams. We crossed Chesapeake Bay, a beautiful, glistening body of water and sandy shores. We met friendly people, helpful and concerned...not mindful of the puddle of water I left on their floor when Cherie and Jason and Mike saved me from heat stroke...(it's shocking how fast ice melts on hot flesh!)
When one grows up in the South, one hears about the brusqueness of Northerners, but the one;s we met were all politeness! Annapolis is a beautiful, friendly town...a perfect stranger puled up along side Mike and I at a stop light and raved about Texas..we raved about Maryland.
The food was to DIE for, those little country diners where one can get a proper breakfast for less than $10 a couple...I'm talking eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy with coffee and juice...the whole nine yards. The accents were cool too.
The most memorable part of the trip for me was Kill Devil Hills and the Wright Brother's Memorial.
Space flight and the exploration of space has always fascinated me. I remember watching Neil Armstrong take his first steps on the Moon...even though I was 2 at the time. There are some things that one never forgets. I suppose that I get this love from my dad, as he's always been a fan of NASA and space exploration.
So, the chance to see where it all began, Kill Devil Hills, was something I couldn't pass up. You see if it weren't for The Wright Brothers, we'd have never made it to the moon when we did.
Think about this...it was ONLY 66 years from the first flight to the first landing on the moon....such a scant amount of time, especially when one considers that the Dark Ages lasted for about a 1000 years and the Industrial Revolution took place roughly 100 or so years prior to the first flight...not even that long if I am correct.
We went from horse and carriage to space in about a century, and man has occupied this planet for thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of years before this.
So naturally I geeked out!
I walked the length of Wilbur and Orville's first 4 fights! On the very same spot! The very spot that changed the world...the very world we live in.
The progression of what we saw isn't lost on me...we went from Jamestown to Yorktown...that final battle that gained our independence from England, making us the nation we are now, to the very site that launched humans into the air. That led to humans into space...it was, and is so damn awe inspiring.
This trip really brought home to me what a great nation I am blessed enough to live in. The very founding principles of this country unleashed the potential of human intelligence and creativity into this world. The freedoms we have enabled men like the Wright Brothers to pursue their dream. The freedoms we enjoy, and take for granted, have led to the improvement of lives all over the world, whether through efficient farming techniques or through advances in medical science.
We are that beacon on the hill...calling others who desire the freedom that is God given to our shores...
Most of all, this trip reinforced the love I have for my country. It bolstered the faith I have in Humanity...when a man, or woman is free to pursue their dreams, anything is possible. Anything. Governments can try to suppress the human spirit, but they can never kill it. God designed us to dream, to achieve.
That is the Human condition. That is our destiny....to be that shining beacon on the hill. We may have to go through rough patches, but those patches are the test of one's spirit, one's determination...it does take fire to forge the strongest metal.
The First Beaux
My 16 year old daughter has a beau...he's 16 like she is, and has had a crush on her since October. He only started making courting gestures last month.
Tonight he came over so that we could meet him, and Mike and I also got to meet his parents. He's a nice guy, who reminds me in so many ways, of my first boyfriend. Tall, dark and nerdy. He also plays guitar and cello. Is into greek mythology and thinks that Mars is ripe for terraforming...and he's polite!
The dog likes him too, so that's a plus.
I confess that I am really not ready for my daughter to be dating...she's only 16! I now know how my parents felt...to me she is still that little babe I held in my arms and fed, not this gorgeous, intelligent creature with a knockout bod....
I am drawn back to my youth, when I was a bit younger, and this boy who was the first to claim my heart. I had my first kiss at a dance in middle school...and I can say, that to this date, it was the sweetest, most incredible kiss I've ever had.
I mean no offense to my Mike, none at all, but there is something about that first kiss that renders it the best. It's the breathless excitement of the unknown...chaste yet scintillating; it's something a girl (and I suspect a boy) never forgets. That shiver down the spine, the reward of many a nervous thought, action and dream. That tingle in the toes ( and other parts, naughty!) the feeling that one can fly. The trembles, the sighs....oh to be that innocent again!
What heaven that first kiss was!
What bliss that first touch of a strong set of hands about one's waist. The clean smell of his skin, and the breathless nervousness of it all. It was so pure, yet so decadent. The memory is so sweet! It makes my heart pound even to this day!
I want that for my daughter, yet I don't. I want her to feel that swooping of the stomach, the taste of that first kiss on her lips....but I also want to kill the SOB that dares tread that territory.
I am a parent...oh my god....this is hellish and also delightful. It's so hard to put into words...I am happy and sad. I know how may parent's felt. It's just as bad as being an adolescent all over again, only this time, when her heart gets broken it will be two of us suffering. We have reached that fork, that beginning of the road that will lead her away from me and to her own destiny.
It is incredible. It's scary. It's wonderful, yet heartbreaking to behold.
Yet, I wouldn't trade this for all of the world.
Tonight he came over so that we could meet him, and Mike and I also got to meet his parents. He's a nice guy, who reminds me in so many ways, of my first boyfriend. Tall, dark and nerdy. He also plays guitar and cello. Is into greek mythology and thinks that Mars is ripe for terraforming...and he's polite!
The dog likes him too, so that's a plus.
I confess that I am really not ready for my daughter to be dating...she's only 16! I now know how my parents felt...to me she is still that little babe I held in my arms and fed, not this gorgeous, intelligent creature with a knockout bod....
I am drawn back to my youth, when I was a bit younger, and this boy who was the first to claim my heart. I had my first kiss at a dance in middle school...and I can say, that to this date, it was the sweetest, most incredible kiss I've ever had.
I mean no offense to my Mike, none at all, but there is something about that first kiss that renders it the best. It's the breathless excitement of the unknown...chaste yet scintillating; it's something a girl (and I suspect a boy) never forgets. That shiver down the spine, the reward of many a nervous thought, action and dream. That tingle in the toes ( and other parts, naughty!) the feeling that one can fly. The trembles, the sighs....oh to be that innocent again!
What heaven that first kiss was!
What bliss that first touch of a strong set of hands about one's waist. The clean smell of his skin, and the breathless nervousness of it all. It was so pure, yet so decadent. The memory is so sweet! It makes my heart pound even to this day!
I want that for my daughter, yet I don't. I want her to feel that swooping of the stomach, the taste of that first kiss on her lips....but I also want to kill the SOB that dares tread that territory.
I am a parent...oh my god....this is hellish and also delightful. It's so hard to put into words...I am happy and sad. I know how may parent's felt. It's just as bad as being an adolescent all over again, only this time, when her heart gets broken it will be two of us suffering. We have reached that fork, that beginning of the road that will lead her away from me and to her own destiny.
It is incredible. It's scary. It's wonderful, yet heartbreaking to behold.
Yet, I wouldn't trade this for all of the world.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Riding, Crosswinds and Summer Weight Jackets
In about 3 weeks, Mike and I depart for a ride to Norfolk, via the back roads. We will be attending the Blue Knights International, and will be riding with Jason, Cherie and a friend of theirs. This is our second "long" trip, last year's being a ride to the Ozark's and the adventure that was Mount Nebo.
I am so looking forward to this trip, two weeks away from home, the kids and reality. Two weeks of living with 3 pairs of jeans (1 on, 2 packed) 5 t-shirts, 5 pair undies, 3 pair socks, the basics in as far as hygiene and NO MAKE UP!!!! It's also a test of one's relationship with others, ie: spouse and friends. Especially when it's hot as hell and a day's ride is 400 or so miles per day.
Last year's trip was our first together and it came at the mid point of our new relationship, meaning we were exclusively dating, but hadn't yet decided that we were ready to make it permanent. A lot of things can go wrong when travelling together, especially on a motorcycle and most especially into uncharted territory, so a test it was. Happily, Mike passed with flying colors as did I, since we are now a happy couple planning our "official" nuptuals.
Today we took a trip to Austin, so that I could get my military I.D. It was also a test run for my new summer weight, mesh riding jacket.
The day started off well, sunny and warm. The jacket was awesome, but the cross winds were suckish. I don't like cross winds, seeing as I am a new rider and crashed my bike on Good Friday because I panicked in strong cross winds. That aside, Mike rode well and even coached me on HOW to handle the cross winds, so that when I make my distance solo (to San Antonio and back) I won't crash my bike.
We made it to Camp Mabry, got my I.D. and then I got to discover the joys of the PX. Mike got a bottle of lovely scotch and I got a bottle of Chanel perfume at a KNOCKDOWN price.
Now, we are home, my butt is sore and I am feeling quite satisfied. The Mojito I am currently drinking is lovely and I am trying to figure out how to travel with mojito mix and rum on the July trip, whilst not taking up precious space in the saddle bags.
July will be fun...a long trip, but fun. Our new seat (an air seat with adjustable bladders for comfort) will be in this week, the route is planned and I will ride through states I've never been too before (Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, etc.). I expect to return sunburned, relaxed and renewed.
I am so looking forward to this trip, two weeks away from home, the kids and reality. Two weeks of living with 3 pairs of jeans (1 on, 2 packed) 5 t-shirts, 5 pair undies, 3 pair socks, the basics in as far as hygiene and NO MAKE UP!!!! It's also a test of one's relationship with others, ie: spouse and friends. Especially when it's hot as hell and a day's ride is 400 or so miles per day.
Last year's trip was our first together and it came at the mid point of our new relationship, meaning we were exclusively dating, but hadn't yet decided that we were ready to make it permanent. A lot of things can go wrong when travelling together, especially on a motorcycle and most especially into uncharted territory, so a test it was. Happily, Mike passed with flying colors as did I, since we are now a happy couple planning our "official" nuptuals.
Today we took a trip to Austin, so that I could get my military I.D. It was also a test run for my new summer weight, mesh riding jacket.
The day started off well, sunny and warm. The jacket was awesome, but the cross winds were suckish. I don't like cross winds, seeing as I am a new rider and crashed my bike on Good Friday because I panicked in strong cross winds. That aside, Mike rode well and even coached me on HOW to handle the cross winds, so that when I make my distance solo (to San Antonio and back) I won't crash my bike.
We made it to Camp Mabry, got my I.D. and then I got to discover the joys of the PX. Mike got a bottle of lovely scotch and I got a bottle of Chanel perfume at a KNOCKDOWN price.
Now, we are home, my butt is sore and I am feeling quite satisfied. The Mojito I am currently drinking is lovely and I am trying to figure out how to travel with mojito mix and rum on the July trip, whilst not taking up precious space in the saddle bags.
July will be fun...a long trip, but fun. Our new seat (an air seat with adjustable bladders for comfort) will be in this week, the route is planned and I will ride through states I've never been too before (Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, etc.). I expect to return sunburned, relaxed and renewed.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Ghost Rider and Fifth Wheels.
Restless today, and easily angered over trivial crap.
Also angered over not so trivial crap, as in mom informed me today that she hasn't been doing her PT and upper body exercises like she is supposed to be doing, and as a result is weaker now. Understand, she is bed bound, and so every bit of exercise counts!
I'm just ticked off. Why am I doing this every day, if mom isn't going to do her part? All this is going to do is affect how long she is in PT after the replacement on Monday...the weaker she is, the longer it will take for her to get up on her feet and for me to get my life back.
It is what it is, but I'm tired of it being this way. I miss my mornings with Mike, having breakfast with him and hanging out before he goes to work. After the kids go off to school, we generally have the house to ourselves and we just hang, or do chores or run errands. I miss that. I miss it a lot.
I am reading Neil Peart's "Ghost Rider", which I bought yesterday at the Kindle store. I am 3/4 of the way through it, even stopping to make notes (Kindle is cool like that, you can make notes and highlight portions etc. Awesome) on passages that have meaning to me. There have been times where I've shed tears for him and the pain, the unimaginable pain, that he suffered.
Even though my suffering and grief over certain parts of my past, like the break up of my and Adele's father's relationship, watching my grandfather suffer and then being the one he asked permission from to die, having to tell and hear my mother about the death of him, watching my ex-mother-in-law die and having to tell my then husband that his mother wasn't going to live past the weekend, and a myriad of other things; I understood and understand his pain. His need to get away and to just keep moving.
There are times when I wanted to chuck it all and just go away for a while. To just get into the car and drive, to put miles behind me and to think. There is one passage, in particular, that spoke to me. Or, I should say, had me nodding in total understanding..." For some reason, as part of that grief work it also seemed necessary for me to replay every single incident of my own life....Every embarrassment, act of foolishness, wrong-headedness, error, idiocy etc. going back to childhood and all the way forward to now. I physically flinch, say "ow" out loud, or "fuck" as the case may be, and can hardly bear it. "
I sill do that, although to a smaller extent, than I did in the darkest days of my breakdown. I caught myself doing this over the weekend, as I sat on Jason's sofa, head thrown back and listening to Moving Pictures, the remastered, awesome assed, super duper digital version.
He had been kind enough to squire me about in search of a summer weight riding jacket, and now, as I lolled about on a hot afternoon, he was helping Cherie unload the car of groceries. I heard both the music and their interaction, sensing the comfortable flow that they have together and I suddenly felt like a fifth wheel. Red Barchetta had me, for some reason, thinking about a stupid incident in Middle School that involved me getting a hickey from John Quigley and being stupid enough to try to hide it under make up.
I hadn't thought about that in DECADES, yet the humiliation that I felt over the ensuing rumors that spread around our Peyton Place of a school, still burned after all of this time. Foolish? Yes, in the big picture, but still hurtful none the less to that insecure, awkward geek that still lives under my skin.
These memories distracted me from the music, and shattered the peace I was feeling in that lovely living room, with it's high ceiling and cool, villa-like vibe. So, I got up and said good-bye, still feeling like a fifth wheel and wanting to flee as fast as I could. They are both so busy (he's a cop, she's a nurse) so I know how valuable "alone time" is and I felt like I was cutting in on that.
I had fun at Laser Tag with Kevin, Tedd, Mike and the gang, but I was more reserved than I normally am, or at least I felt that way at times. The later it got the quieter I got, yet still couldn't sleep once I got back to my hotel. I slept, eventually, but I can't shake this angry lassitude that followed me back from New Orleans. I know that I've reached my tipping point, yet I cannot bring myself to tip over...duty and honor compel me to suck it up and carry on, but it's so fucking exhausting!
I am sitting on the patio as I write this, looking at the lawn and it needs to be cut. So does the front, actually. I guess Mike will do it tomorrow, or the next day. He works so hard, so I don't want to complain about it. I also don't want a bitchy tome from the homeowners association. I'd cut it myself, but it's too damn hot, even at this late hour (it's 8:15pm here and the sun is just setting) also, I can't be arsed enough to do it. If only the mower were self propelled, then I could make Katie do it. A cut lawn isn't worth having to listen to her bitch and moan about it, though.
To hell with it. I have naan and hummus in the fridge, I have a nice pinot grigio chilling as well...dinner calls.
Monday, June 13, 2011
I Shaved My Legs for This?
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
There is a reason why I hate the treadmill at the health club, or anywhere else for that matter. There is the fact that I feel like some lab rat in an intergalactic lab, being observed by some alien life form scientist, who takes a perverse interest in the tedium that humans suffer in the quest for fitness. (It is fortunate that the club doesn't offer those wheels that hamsters and the like run around to nowhere on; I'd go spare if I had to run on one of those.) This is how I think on those days when I consider the question posed to me by my Humanities teacher in my senior year, ie: what if we are just some speck of dust in the nose of a giant alien, and what if he sneezes?
I can also reference the ending to Men in Black, where, right before the credits roll we see an alien shooting, then picking up his marbles and sticking them in a bag. That sequence had me thinking for days on end and I eventually ended the pain of it all by drinking a pitcher of Margaritas and nursing a tequila hang over the next day. That can take your mind off of ANYTHING, even death.
Back to the treadmill thing. I have been on one for the last 7 months and I am most heartily sick unto death of it. Nothing has, thus far, turned out how I wanted it to when I decided to put my heart on the line again and eschew the whole Crazy Cat Lady Down the Street thing I was working on perfecting.
I love Mike, can't imagine not being with Mike. He isn't the issue. I am the issue, perhaps...no not perhaps, but not totally, either. It's hard to explain, my thoughts are so jumbled right now; it's as if this weekend's trip back home opened a straining floodgate and everything is rushing through in a torrent that I cannot control.
I am struggling with the intrinsic need to "honor" my parents, mom in particular, and the desire to also take care of Mike and the kids. He, after all, works his ass off to keep me "home", and since my job is to take care of the house and the running of it, I figure that I owe 100% percent to that effort. It's, also the kids who need my attention and have reveled in my being home in the morning to see them off to school, to make their lunches and to be home when they get home. I've loved it too, and quite to my surprise, found that I liked being an At Home Mom, doing chores and cooking and the like.
In all honesty, I think I spent the first 4 months of this new phase in my life in a state of shock or maybe disbelief...I had never imagined that my life would lead to this (which thoughts in and of themselves are to be thought about and debated internally later...my self esteem and all that). I mean, I actually CLEANED, hands and knees cleaned. I organized the pantry (an exercise in terror of there ever was one), the kitchen cabinets, I hung pictures and rearranged furniture. I watched cooking shows and tried new dishes and found that I liked the whole process of cooking, but most of all genuinely felt happy and proud that I had pleased Mike and the kids with my efforts.
Then mom had a knee replaced and fell at home and the nightmare started. As a result I have turned into a creature who no longer bothers to put on make-up, and only shaves in anticipation of sex.
What the fuck? Who am I and what has happened to the real Beth?
She is stuck on the treadmill from hell and the fucking alien scientists are laughing their green little asses off.
I have become something that I swore I'd never be, especially when I was a "liberated career woman and single mother who had it all". I looked upon these make-upless, messy haired, sloppy clothed women with infants and toddlers in tow and sneer. I was the mother who took her kid to the emergency room, but wore make-up, perfume and matched clothing. I remembered to bring a book and things to keep the healthy kid entertained, as opposed to bored and ill mannered. I reveled in the fact that I wasn't tied down and could take a lover if I wanted to. Mostly, I didn't take said lover because the kids and I had our nice little routine and I didn't want a man to disrupt that.
Isn't it funny how when the right guy comes along, the routine suddenly becomes unimportant and/or workable?
So, just when I was getting into the swing of the whole June Cleaver thing, mom falls and busts open her surgical site, setting off the proverbial domino effect. In a nut shell, she fell at home and busted the knee open, nearly bleeding to death. Then a few days later, this time in the hospital, she falls again and fucks the knee up once more. A month or so later, after inpatient rehab, she is sent home. A few days after that, the staples are removed to reveal a gaping wound that never closed up properly and off to the wound care specialist we go (happy Valentines Day!). Here I got the treat of watching the doctor probe the "tunneling" under my mothers leg, and charting his observations (when the doctors and nurses found out I was considering nursing school, they all wanted to educate me). The conclusion to this awful probing was that mom needed a debridement and a wound vac, but in the interim dad and I were in charge of keeping the leg clean. This process involved much saline solution, sanitary napkins and gauze. I can dress a wound quite well now.
Damned if things didn't get worse, because the day before her surgery to debride and apply the vac, she ends up in CCU and intubated, as she had developed pneumonia. I can't tell you how much it sucks to realize the fact that one's parents are mortal in such a manner. To be told that your mother would likely die is something I was ill prepared for, even though I sat next to her on a daily basis and watched the nurses do their work. After all, I had been with her since the first fall, going daily to the hospital to keep her company and advocate for her where it was needed. I had seen her struggle through physical therapy so that she could walk again, so I knew how determined she was to get better.
Blessedly, she remembers very little of that time, but it is seared in my memory forever. When I have the time I will have to seek therapy sessions to deal with it all, I refuse to repeat the year of 1996-1997 when I went through the deaths of family and friends, one after the other, and neglected myself so that I could help others. Never again.
As it stands now, mother has been bedridden since March. I have been in attendance since January and I am, as she is, heartily sick of it all.
Today, for some reason, has been the worst for me. I am so fucking tired of not having a life. I want my life back. I barely see Mike, I am so tired by the time I get home that I have no energy for cooking or cleaning, and the house looks like shit. The fact that the dog is losing his winter coat, and the cat has gone into one of her Emo phases, and is pulling her hair out by the chunk, isn't helping either. God I wish I had carpet, maybe that would make the hair not so noticeable as it is when it collects in the corners.
I still haven't gotten the mani/pedi Mike gave me for Valentines day(a day ruined by the visit to the wound care doctor, but at least the filet was good), because everytime I make the reservation, something comes up with mom and I have to cancel.
I am angry at mom. I can't stand the fact that I am, it's perverse in a way and pointless, but there it is. I'm angry at my sisters, because they have jobs and can't take care of her. I'm angry at myself for being angry at mom and my sisters. I'm just plain angry and sad. This is so fucked up. I can't even go to Ft. Hood to see my niece home from Afganistan.
I just want off of this particular treadmill. I want my life back, so that I can see where that will lead. Seven months of my life has just whizzed by me, one day the same as the day before. I hate it.
I hate that I resent it. I hate that I hate that I resent it, because it is what it is. I'm just sick of it all.
On Monday, mom gets her knee replaced, again...the odds of a rejection are high since she's had a major infection. I dare to hope that she will keep the knee and not have to have the bones fused together. We are both looking forward to the surgery, in a perverse way, even though it will start the whole cycle of pain and PT and misery over again. If she doesn't reject the knee, then perhaps things will eventually return to normal, but I can honestly say that I'm not holding my breath.
It's not that I don't want to be optimistic. I do, but thus far, the whole hope and prayer thing has been for naught.
I am open for surprise, though.
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
There is a reason why I hate the treadmill at the health club, or anywhere else for that matter. There is the fact that I feel like some lab rat in an intergalactic lab, being observed by some alien life form scientist, who takes a perverse interest in the tedium that humans suffer in the quest for fitness. (It is fortunate that the club doesn't offer those wheels that hamsters and the like run around to nowhere on; I'd go spare if I had to run on one of those.) This is how I think on those days when I consider the question posed to me by my Humanities teacher in my senior year, ie: what if we are just some speck of dust in the nose of a giant alien, and what if he sneezes?
I can also reference the ending to Men in Black, where, right before the credits roll we see an alien shooting, then picking up his marbles and sticking them in a bag. That sequence had me thinking for days on end and I eventually ended the pain of it all by drinking a pitcher of Margaritas and nursing a tequila hang over the next day. That can take your mind off of ANYTHING, even death.
Back to the treadmill thing. I have been on one for the last 7 months and I am most heartily sick unto death of it. Nothing has, thus far, turned out how I wanted it to when I decided to put my heart on the line again and eschew the whole Crazy Cat Lady Down the Street thing I was working on perfecting.
I love Mike, can't imagine not being with Mike. He isn't the issue. I am the issue, perhaps...no not perhaps, but not totally, either. It's hard to explain, my thoughts are so jumbled right now; it's as if this weekend's trip back home opened a straining floodgate and everything is rushing through in a torrent that I cannot control.
I am struggling with the intrinsic need to "honor" my parents, mom in particular, and the desire to also take care of Mike and the kids. He, after all, works his ass off to keep me "home", and since my job is to take care of the house and the running of it, I figure that I owe 100% percent to that effort. It's, also the kids who need my attention and have reveled in my being home in the morning to see them off to school, to make their lunches and to be home when they get home. I've loved it too, and quite to my surprise, found that I liked being an At Home Mom, doing chores and cooking and the like.
In all honesty, I think I spent the first 4 months of this new phase in my life in a state of shock or maybe disbelief...I had never imagined that my life would lead to this (which thoughts in and of themselves are to be thought about and debated internally later...my self esteem and all that). I mean, I actually CLEANED, hands and knees cleaned. I organized the pantry (an exercise in terror of there ever was one), the kitchen cabinets, I hung pictures and rearranged furniture. I watched cooking shows and tried new dishes and found that I liked the whole process of cooking, but most of all genuinely felt happy and proud that I had pleased Mike and the kids with my efforts.
Then mom had a knee replaced and fell at home and the nightmare started. As a result I have turned into a creature who no longer bothers to put on make-up, and only shaves in anticipation of sex.
What the fuck? Who am I and what has happened to the real Beth?
She is stuck on the treadmill from hell and the fucking alien scientists are laughing their green little asses off.
I have become something that I swore I'd never be, especially when I was a "liberated career woman and single mother who had it all". I looked upon these make-upless, messy haired, sloppy clothed women with infants and toddlers in tow and sneer. I was the mother who took her kid to the emergency room, but wore make-up, perfume and matched clothing. I remembered to bring a book and things to keep the healthy kid entertained, as opposed to bored and ill mannered. I reveled in the fact that I wasn't tied down and could take a lover if I wanted to. Mostly, I didn't take said lover because the kids and I had our nice little routine and I didn't want a man to disrupt that.
Isn't it funny how when the right guy comes along, the routine suddenly becomes unimportant and/or workable?
So, just when I was getting into the swing of the whole June Cleaver thing, mom falls and busts open her surgical site, setting off the proverbial domino effect. In a nut shell, she fell at home and busted the knee open, nearly bleeding to death. Then a few days later, this time in the hospital, she falls again and fucks the knee up once more. A month or so later, after inpatient rehab, she is sent home. A few days after that, the staples are removed to reveal a gaping wound that never closed up properly and off to the wound care specialist we go (happy Valentines Day!). Here I got the treat of watching the doctor probe the "tunneling" under my mothers leg, and charting his observations (when the doctors and nurses found out I was considering nursing school, they all wanted to educate me). The conclusion to this awful probing was that mom needed a debridement and a wound vac, but in the interim dad and I were in charge of keeping the leg clean. This process involved much saline solution, sanitary napkins and gauze. I can dress a wound quite well now.
Damned if things didn't get worse, because the day before her surgery to debride and apply the vac, she ends up in CCU and intubated, as she had developed pneumonia. I can't tell you how much it sucks to realize the fact that one's parents are mortal in such a manner. To be told that your mother would likely die is something I was ill prepared for, even though I sat next to her on a daily basis and watched the nurses do their work. After all, I had been with her since the first fall, going daily to the hospital to keep her company and advocate for her where it was needed. I had seen her struggle through physical therapy so that she could walk again, so I knew how determined she was to get better.
Blessedly, she remembers very little of that time, but it is seared in my memory forever. When I have the time I will have to seek therapy sessions to deal with it all, I refuse to repeat the year of 1996-1997 when I went through the deaths of family and friends, one after the other, and neglected myself so that I could help others. Never again.
As it stands now, mother has been bedridden since March. I have been in attendance since January and I am, as she is, heartily sick of it all.
Today, for some reason, has been the worst for me. I am so fucking tired of not having a life. I want my life back. I barely see Mike, I am so tired by the time I get home that I have no energy for cooking or cleaning, and the house looks like shit. The fact that the dog is losing his winter coat, and the cat has gone into one of her Emo phases, and is pulling her hair out by the chunk, isn't helping either. God I wish I had carpet, maybe that would make the hair not so noticeable as it is when it collects in the corners.
I still haven't gotten the mani/pedi Mike gave me for Valentines day(a day ruined by the visit to the wound care doctor, but at least the filet was good), because everytime I make the reservation, something comes up with mom and I have to cancel.
I am angry at mom. I can't stand the fact that I am, it's perverse in a way and pointless, but there it is. I'm angry at my sisters, because they have jobs and can't take care of her. I'm angry at myself for being angry at mom and my sisters. I'm just plain angry and sad. This is so fucked up. I can't even go to Ft. Hood to see my niece home from Afganistan.
I just want off of this particular treadmill. I want my life back, so that I can see where that will lead. Seven months of my life has just whizzed by me, one day the same as the day before. I hate it.
I hate that I resent it. I hate that I hate that I resent it, because it is what it is. I'm just sick of it all.
On Monday, mom gets her knee replaced, again...the odds of a rejection are high since she's had a major infection. I dare to hope that she will keep the knee and not have to have the bones fused together. We are both looking forward to the surgery, in a perverse way, even though it will start the whole cycle of pain and PT and misery over again. If she doesn't reject the knee, then perhaps things will eventually return to normal, but I can honestly say that I'm not holding my breath.
It's not that I don't want to be optimistic. I do, but thus far, the whole hope and prayer thing has been for naught.
I am open for surprise, though.
While I Was Away...
The dog hair on the floor multiplied, bunny like, even though the dog was at the boarder's.
Mike missed having me next to him when he went to sleep.
The dust bunnies had an orgy and have now taken over every surface in the house. They also have established colonies under the entertainment center and the sofas.
And...Mike thinks his dick will fall off if he buys sanitary supplies for his step-daughter, so he gave her money and sent her into the store to buy her own. In fact he's so afraid of cross contamination, he let her keep the change.
Mike missed having me next to him when he went to sleep.
The dust bunnies had an orgy and have now taken over every surface in the house. They also have established colonies under the entertainment center and the sofas.
And...Mike thinks his dick will fall off if he buys sanitary supplies for his step-daughter, so he gave her money and sent her into the store to buy her own. In fact he's so afraid of cross contamination, he let her keep the change.
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