Category: family

Posted on in family, Uncategorized

I Need A Manual…

There are how to birth books, how to raise your sweet baby books, how to raise any pet, and if you are into any DIY a book is there for you, that will take you through the steps of any creative project you can dream. There are books on careers or how to find a career, what is anxiety and how to solve it, along with more drastic mental health dilemmas. Do you drink? Do drugs? Books for that. But death or grief. None. At least not what I need at this moment, a how to grieve. A how to not feel guilt. A how to focus on life when someone you loved is now gone. I am lost. My hubs, who was trying, told me my attitude was much worse when my grandparents passed. That entire catastrophic time period is not one that has stayed in my memory. Obviously, his. I was probably a bitch. Today I yelled at the pharmacist, a usual moment, as they are ridiculous. But this was a bit more than my usual tirade.

So, what is this process? How long does it last? Will it ever go away? Will my mind return, or is it gone forever? Those are the answers I need, as now I am just mad, not at my dad’s age, his health, his life, but at me, and the fact that I could not say goodbye. Every tiny mistake comes back in HD and this is a channel, with time I need to turn, so I can serve my family and my mom, who is in her own era of hospice care.

When my friends parents have passed, I send condolences. But now it has hit that while kind, it means nothing. It is just a social transaction that we follow because it makes us feel better, not for those in pain. Just us. So without a manual this is just another part of life that we muddle through with alot of patience and self-love, and in my world some extra yelling at my pharmacist, who always after ten years at this store, manages to mess things up.

Posted on in family, granparent life, grey hair, non-fiction, retirement

I Don’t Wrap and The 35th Anniversary Gift Saga.

After thirty-five years together, it is the thought that counts and I tend to spoil. Always. But wrapping is not my thing. I learned long ago, when stores were grand, they wrapped for you. I never looked back. Now, I bag with the best of them, just don’t wrap. Don’t ask. Amazon has wrap service which delights my senses but only sometimes. This maddens me especially when the gifts are for our 35th anniversary. Now, for a non-wrapper my love language is over the top wrapping, because I know you can find good stores, that still wrap. Major hint. I asked my hubs what he wanted because I do survive on a teachers salary, unless I “lift” a credit card and deal with the repercussions. I did that once. I bought a Porsche. Yes, yes I did. We kept it, still have it. Those were the days. As we age my budget became well cut-off.

So, we are building a house. It’s all he wants. Can’t wrap that. Phew. The decor is my gig, modern nautical with island whimsy. What does that mean? I don’t know but it sounds fancy AF. I have been plotting items for two years and I definitely want a bit of old with the new. So I searched for our first two antique pieces to give it the old/new/island vibe. Obviously, pleased with myself, as they sit boxed on our kitchen table, waiting for May 28th, number thrity-five. Not as grand as a sportscar but hopefully the true thought, search, and future memories that will come from the gifts, will be perfect for a major years celebration. One that is filled with much love, patience, and moments of change as we head into our next seasons together forever.

Posted on in family, granparent life

Mothers With Superpowers

All mothers have a special power or two up their sleeves. This comes from years of practice, and frankly out of necessity, because this gig is hard. The baby insta pictures melt my heart but we all know the back story of any photo shoot. Blowouts, crying, begging, the crazy money on the right outfit etc. No child smiles on command. Nope. I like the more natural instas, such as asleep in the car after miles of driving, toddlers walking the planks of planes, trying to convince a one year old that we are almost done with the ear pain, by allowing chocolate cookies to be consumed and somehow all over grandma. No tears. Perfect traveller. Grandma, certified bum status with an embarrassed son, once he awoke. Memories. I did get an airline pin and the grandma of the day award. As things could have gotten loud. Ears are real. Now he hops on the plane, eats snack, either sleeps or watches movies. He is a champ. But I always pack cookies. Chocolate, for the memories and my child’s giggles. Back to our powers. New parents, you are finding your footing, if you are pregnant you are in your own world, we will see you on the otherside with a screaming toddler in Target. I can talk you down, why, I truly have superpowers.

Mother+Teacher+Grandmother equates an obvious Mattel toy coming to stores near you. Super Mother. Hears all, sees all, knows the optimal hours of inside vs errands and bribes with the best of them, and spots a lie from 100 yards away, and can’t be fooled. Wears jeans, white tees, white sneakers, and a blazer or puffy jacket for colder moments. I could go from chasing to lunch in a heartbeat. Those were the days. I later morphed into sporty mom. Same concept but tracksuits instead of jeans. Those were the days.

Now my status took years to perfect and the methods still work on my big kid and the nugget knows what’s up. He knows I glow with superness, but yet he does have my number and I, his. He thinks he is slick but feels at times it is game-set-match, as grandma is still champion. But sometimes even supermoms have limits, especially when he is only turning five. So, whether you are a new mom, old mom, grandparent, or just celebrating your mom. Ladies, we are special and our powers at any stage are amazing. So, enjoy your flowers, gifts, cards, rushed brunches with waiting lists. We don’t do that! Or the spare bottle of champagne you put in a sippy cup for the day. I don’t judge, as we all have the best job in the world, and we are just surviving another day, even if it’s our day, the best we can.

Posted on in education, essay, family, goals

Education is Forever

It’s been a minute since my son was in school. His back injury, and rightly so, took away that MOJO. I was crushed for many reasons but not finishing school was one of them. After much needed introspection, I realized it was not for me but for him. Education is the one thing that cannot be taken away from you in this life. I tell my students this daily. Have a two or four year degree that will give you a position in the workforce, if needed. Have something. While our adult kid is an EMT, the back took that away. He is a stay at home dad, and the best. But one day, as all moms know, there are no cups to fill or snacks to create. I have warned him.

While not good at waiting. I waited and mentioned. Shut up and waited more, along with a few more mentions. I am annoying. A couple days ago after a few awkward texts back and forth we were led to the nugget of truth. He is taking a class. Just one, but we are thrilled. It is a step down the path of his choice, but a step in the direction of more options in life. While school is not everything for everyone the options it holds are endless. As a mom and a teacher my pride is huge, even though it might be one and done, but maybe not. The best part about school is that there is no rush or time limit. Just go, learn, meet others, and grow as a person. It’s a beautiful place and yours forever!

Posted on in essay, family, granparent life, life, menopause

The Suit

Water is not my thing, even as a child. Ironically, I grew up in a desert with a pool in every home. My fear is directly due to the many drowning reports on the nightly news. The newscasters believe they are doing a service (and they are) but after fifty years of hearing the scary statistics, the only service they did for me was don’t get in the water, no matter how bloody hot you feel, at this moment. I can swim. Yes. The local nightly news taught me I had to learn. So I did. But as the years passed I became a pool lounger at an expert level. Dip a toe. Saunter to the chair. Order a drink, and repeat. The view brings me great peace as does the hotel service and bubbly. Oddly, I love to sail and passed my initial certification, but I don’t plan on captaining a boat. I am a lounger with an occasional standing moment at the helm and a bit of the bubbly. The boating love came after convincing myself that I am not in the water and technically I am correct. Being in requires a bathing suit or the current choices of ether small squares of material or big dresses that my grandmother wore when I grew up, which I can’t accept and thus going in the water or even pool lounging has been a big NO for years. Menopause has changed my overall look without my changing my diet or exercise. I could exist on air and I would still have rolls upon rolls in areas that were once flat.  So a bathing suit, has not been on my body, for a very long time. Through the years of heat, mental fog aka the beginning of this stage that never ends, I coped. I hid. I survived. Just a phase. We traveled in the winter to non-beachy areas. Accidental but freeing. London in November. Gorgeous rain and cold. Thankfully this meant turtlenecks, sensible pants, boots, large coats, and scarves. Turkey, obviously covered. In Paris, I was so busy looking Parisian and seeing everything that I could, no suit was necessary. I could hide my changes and frankly just accepted my new life. The last time I wore a suit in public, was twenty years ago in Spain, and twenty pounds ago. The hormonal overdrive phase of life has hit. I will be sixty in six weeks. Which should explain everything without getting technical. My acceptance of a new life stage has now turned to frustration and a daily dose of exasperation in the dressing moments. My body screams practical pull-ons and tunics and my head says hell no. Not yet or ever. Truth be told I have a few outfits that fit this category. They make me happy, in a comfortable way, but they always remind me of my grandmothers polyester granimals that fit her every physical need and frankly she always looked great, but I am not ready. The sixty year old woman does not really fit anywhere in the mainstream fashion industry. But we are having our moments in chain boutique shopping experiences, and while some great stuff can be found, we all come out looking the same which alerts others to the questioning of our desire for the AARP discount of the day. I digress. Back to the newest stressor. The need for a suit.

I am taking my grandnugget to a water park. Yes, not just a pool, but a park of people all in drippy stages of dress or undress with slides, arcades, and characters roaming the property. The nugget has been taking lessons and this is my treat. Now, this grandparent will do anything, but my hubs won’t. He won’t do the character related themed areas and this park fits that category. However, he has committed to Lego Land. It’s a lego thing for him. So that is a go. Disney. That’s on me, but I have a plan. We just don’t mention it until he is at least five years of age, maybe six. Back to the drippy park. After my commitment to what will be a great day. I went through my suits. I have two. Both seem small and lack the fabric I desire. All I can imagine is my very white body shuffling from one area to the next while toting all our necessities. In the pool bag, gone long ago. Luckily they are fancy neoprene now with stylish colors and options. This I can get into but the suit. Nope.

Thankfully, I love to research, and if beach bags have gone all neoprene like and fancy, perhaps the suit has more options than small triangles or massive printed dresses. Why loud prints? Is the dress not bold enough? A man must have created this horror with the mindset of, it will be easy to spot grandma in this checkered number. Within minutes of googling conservative suits, nicer than menopausal mama, I came upon a new trend, swimming leggings. Yup. They are made out of special material that dries quickly just like a regular suit with the special plus of covering, squeezing, and looking relatively sleek. Obviously, this is not a look for the lounging tanner. This legging idea (came through the swimming community) is practical for the swimming grandma desiring to swim with grandchildren and fighting the midst of unwanted body transformations. Rather than, running away from the day, or feeling less than in front of the skinny set or anyone under fourty. It will allow me to feel confident as I stroll the park without being worried about my size and the suit. That’s priceless.

Lands End seems to have the best choices, but also Target, Amazon, and even Walmart are in the game. Note: this is a non-sponsored post.

https://www.landsend.com/shop/womens-swim-shorts-leggings-swimsuit-cover-ups-swimsuits/S-xfh-xez-y5c-xhf-y9k-xec

Posted on in caregiver, family

The Longer Goodbye

My Miss Brenda has taken a few turns for the worse but no one prepares you for hospice or the hospice call including date of death.

I took the news calmly. But did question their all knowing practical knowledge of date and time of one’s passing. “How do you know?” “Are you sure?” “What makes you so positive?” They answered all with the confidence of seeing this before and in my head, I knew they had. Obviously.

My mom was a player in life pushing every physical limit and doing alot of damage to one’s body. Before my parents parted ways, they were quite the twosome, in their partying ways. My dad got sober. My mother. Never. So this early demise of body should not surprise, but it did.

No tears flowed after my hospice conversation. Very stoic and processing what I questioned but my strong exterior allowed me to create Frosty day, early birthday celebration, and just visits. On the otherside I was in constant contact with hospice. I knew everything at all times. Little pieces of me were breaking away as I focused on how to make the end “nice.”

A week into this personal journey hospice called again. “She improving.” “It’s a miracle.” This time I had no questions, just relief. Knowing full well that tomorrow is another day and yet another possibility of that phone call. While they predict the end of life to the minute. They do admit the miracles astound them. So, for right now My Miss Brenda is doing OK. Still under hospice care but not a patient with a date and time stamped in their file.

On my last visit. I cried. It hit me that she is alone with her TV and a bunch of health care techs and nurses. That’s it. She is alone with her thoughts and confusions and the reconciliation of her choices in life. While I am very close by, she is still alone. Driving home in tears, I realized that this is the world she built. She chose distance and still keeps me at arms length, but all her choice. When she does let me in, it is nice. It’s fleeting but it’s nice.

So me and my lady have more time. This will give both of us the time we need to truly say goodbye.

Posted on in family, granparent life, grey hair, life

Thirty-four Years of Bliss

When you only feel thirty-four years old, how can I have been married for thirty-four years? Is this possible? Please note the bliss is relative based on the day and recently the price of gas. But the fact that we have withstood trials and tribulations for over three decades creates a moment of pure reflection and wonder. Are we truly kindred spirits or do we just not give up. I believe the latter. Even soul mates drift apart. Marriage is work. Yes, we have our moments of romance but those are interrupted by the reality of day to day life.

After the decades you start floundering for gifts. Even cards quite don’t say it perfectly. As a family we have it all and the extraneous stuff is just stuff for instagram moments. You know, the nauseating ones, that make you feel like the posters are that happy daily. Nope. Don’t get me wrong I love jewelry and any fancy gift but often reality wins. This year I came up with a BBQ for the win and a special gift of family. Let me explain the latter as you understand the concept of the BBQ.

Well, it started with a trip to Prescott and no gift or card for me, the wife. I disguised my anger and kept up with the day. Then I saw my gift. He is three and my buddy. Day made. Anniversary made. All forgiven. We had a fabulous weekend of family, church, and getting to be part of our buddies baby to grown up room transistion. I love to spoil everyone I know. It’s my thing. Years ago the hubs parents bought our nursery and the big boy room furniture. Just because. We did the same. Just because. So, no jewelery or fancy new bag. Just the reality of life in the best possible way!

Posted on in education, family, retirement

80 Points!

In a teachers life this is a happy dance. I have choices. Kinda. I am not quite ready for retirement but yet I am. The freedom sounds enticing but I still want to teach. I doubt this will leave my soul. So, here we go again, options for a life after I am starting to pursue. My online Outschool acceptance/classroom is up to date but I no ideas for a class as of yet. None. Next up, interviewing for online tutoring to hopefully start this summer and keep it going throughout my final decision to stay or go. Hoping my three followers will guide me with possible class ideas that will entice kids into extra classes outside of the school day. If you have kids, know them etc. etc. Please share what type of classes that woukd interest you and yours. Below is my Outschool dashboard. Please send me your ideas.

Thanks in advance!

https://outschool.com/parents/97d6cb8e-35f2-4cc2-a888-32db5b15410e?signup=true&utm_campaign=share_parent_link

Posted on in family, life

Love

I have never been a cook. Nope. It is a running joke in our home. This has never bothered me as I learned the craft from my Sylvia. She had the love but not the touch. My grandfather and I just smiled and lied through our meals, as she enjoyed cooking just had zero ability. But oh, the lady could sew, clean, and wash clothes like nobody’s business. But cook. Nope. For some reason she raised me to think I did not need home skills. So I have none. I meander my way through our daily needs with exasperation and the wish of a fairy godmother. Thirty-three years later I do my best. No one complains but they do avoid my cooking. It’s ok. Enter the air fryer. Now, I am a gadget queen. Anything that makes life easier I am on it. We have vacuums and mops that wander our home and I replenish them with the newer models asap. They break. Easily. But the air fryer is a gift from the heavens as my cooking is now tolerable. The hubs is using phrases like, “let’s put this meal on repeat.” Yup, repeat. In all our years a second of anything has never been requested. So, my air fryer and I are on the best of terms. Meat, a bit of oil and spice plus the right settings and we have dinner. I even chopped the other night. That does not happen. But I did. I love my new friend. I named her Sylvia. I truly believe if my grandmother had this golden device she would have rocked our nightly meals.

Posted on in back pain, chronic pain, family, life, retirement

306 Days

Let’s first explain the title. I am taking this rather random number based on my physiotherapist’s ramblings on how long it takes to heal a back that is herniated. Tah-dah a title is born. Of course, the number might be wrong as I was medicated at this first meeting. Or is it? This back disaster is my current state combined with vertigo. I got super lucky. Weeks later, I can chuckle a bit and feel a bit of pride to be the star of an EMT horror story of difficult patients. Let me explain, while riding in the ambulance after having my husband stuff me with a protein bar, because he thinks water plus protein cures all ills, I vomited everywhere. Everywhere. Several times. On a happy note the hubs scrubbing forced his hand to promise me new flooring. Of course, a request since year two in the house, but heck eight years later is great. Back to the story. So, this sweet EMT, who sported a training badge, kept rattling on with stupid stories, that were keeping me from killing all of them in pursuit of pain meds. Anyhow, he held my vomit bag the entire way to the hospital. At our goodbyes. I thanked the kid and grabbed the captain and asked him to sign his papers and pass him for the day. Or did I ask for meds? I don’t know? Probably both. The captain promised he would happily sign him off as he peeled my hand out of his and yelled, “Take her away.”

Currently, I am on week five or day 271 of my current holding position of rest, PT, and more rest. I am off all meds that caused me to forget what I read, watched, re-read, and re-watched during my time of bedridden status. With the pain away but in a wet- cement state, I wait. I wait to start my life again. I am on pause. I long for the simplicity of my life that I led. I teach. I miss my kids. I spin. I miss my Echelon/Peloton app life. I am stuck in the house because I can’t drive due to the back and the vertigo. I miss people. But with all the things I miss there is so much more I have learned in the silence of my waiting. Serious thoughts have come my way while crying in pain. Religion. The importance of family. Work and my need for my social and intellectual growth plus monetary needs. Along with the harsh truth that I am easily replaced, especially at fifty-nine. There were also thoughts that can be filed under the not so serious. Cue the meds folks. Days of reality TV nonsense, movie upon movie, and many attempts at new binge shows. Note. Not a Bridgerton fan. Probably the only human who could not get through episode 1. All I could think of was the pain the actresses endured with their corsets. While the mundane entertained my mind, it was the big thoughts, that truly got me through the day. Not my twelve orders of athletic wear to make dressing easier or the endless scrolling and the constant attempt to find anything to take my mind of the situation at hand. Nope. The big stuff. Religion, family, and work. Repeat. It made the struggle of each day and each small success sweet.

Religion became my anchor. I prayed, read scripture, and talked alot to the man upstairs. I felt his presence, cried, and kept praying. For the first time I felt his guiding hand. Truly, in the darkness of our room I was not alone. Ever. This gave me hope and a feeling that my herniated disc came at a time that had no reason, but had every reason. I renewed my faith and my belief that I am never alone if I just give my life over to him. I have. Completely.

Family. Oh my. So many days I have taken my family for granted and allowed the little stuff to aggravate me, but once you need them to walk you to the bathroom, there is a new respect. The little annoyances in life are gone. Who cares about the toothpaste or how the dishwasher gets loaded or not. Or my control issues with my son. My crew rallied to just get me through the day. They became my daily cheerleaders, my rock during bad moments, and my everything. Family replaced my long list of wants and it still needs some soul searching as to why my control issues and wants superceded my families love. But I will continue on this path much after my pause button has been removed.

Work. It has been five weeks since I have seen my kids. I can’t imagine their current state. I just can’t. But since this was an extended leave I was caught off from school until I return. I have turned over all things I control with fervor to a state of “you do you” and I will pick up the pieces upon my return. While, I do not think I am replaceable. I am. Perhaps, my replacement does not give the quality I gave daily, but another has taken my place. This hurts. But before I officially retire, the discussion did happen the day after my hospital grand entrance. A bit soon. But needed. There before me stood a man that gave me the world almost thirty-four years ago, and he was doing it again. He put aside all worries of money. All. I cried as I listened to our future together which requires my health not my teachers salary. There were no tears about the end date. Just hopes and dreams of a healthy life both in Neebish, Mexico and our time here in the valley. I thought even the the discussion of leaving the workforce would hurt. Nope. Just gave me a world of options. I want to leave healthy. Not stuck in bed. So while I will return very shortly, I won’t kill myself. I won’t. Just be the best teacher and let the other BS fall to the wayside. How did I get into this situation in the first place by killing myself. No more.

Today, the vertigo is disappearing. The back needs one more appointment and possibly shots along with a full drying of my wet-cement. But I am coming back to my status of Go, go, go but never forgetting this time of pause and what I am graced with in my life.