Jenn's Journal

It's funny! I promise!

I don't write the "Oh sorry I haven't blogged in forever" posts because it seems a little self indulgent and egotistical to me, especially when I look at my stats.  Plus I'm not exactly sorry.  It's been a bad few weeks and I've mostly kept it together until the Homeowner's Association sent a letter about alleged violations and I called to clarify and the lady was mean to me and then I totally lost it and sobbed.

It's always the little things that sneak up on you like that. It was the fact that they said the front door needed painting when I painted it just over a year ago.  Cafe on the Riviera because I remember it was such a pain in the ass to match paint to a TEAL door.  Who effing paints a door TEAL?  But are we allowed to change it?  Noooo HOA rules.  The only way I'm painting that door is if I can use neon pink and paint F U HOA on it.

Anyway.

So yesterday my mom calls me and says she has a funny story to tell me.  I had one too and she said I should go first.  We were sitting at a restaurant when I look over at Nick and he's got the front of his shirt pulled out.  He sees me looking and says, "LOOK MAMA!  LOOK AT MY BREASTS!"  "Nick, you don't have breasts."  "YOU DO MAMA!  RIGHT HERE!"  And proceeds to show everyone just where they are.  "Nick, stop.  Don't touch Mama's breasts."  "WHY NOT?"  "Because it's not appropriate."  "WHY NOT?"  "Eat your dinner."

Then I made the mistake of retelling the story to my friend within earshot of Nick today.  "DADA, WHERE ARE YOU BREASTS?"  "Daddy's don't have breasts.  Eat your lunch."  Dave said to me, "Good job teaching him that word."  "What would you rather him say?  HEY MA, CHECK OUT MY TITS!"  "Ok, good point."

So then it's my mom's turn.  My aunt is a Red Hat Lady.  Her group recently nominated her to be 'Queen Mum' of the group.  They even gave her a scepter.  She was overjoyed at this honor and was really excited to go to her first meeting as Queen Mum.  She found an over the top purple and red dress, a giant red hat, and big red hoop earrings.  She gets all done up in her getup, grabs her scepter, and runs out to meet her group at a restaurant. 

Well, she hits traffic.  And the cars are just crawling and she's getting later and later and more anxious.  She finally gets there and runs in, scepter in hand, and starts apologizing to the group of ladies.  There's only one seat left at the table and of course it's a chair on carpet against a wall and everyone has to get up to let her in.  During this spectacle, she's apologizing, "I'm so sorry I'm late.  Traffic was bad; they're redoing the road.  I'm really sorry.  I was so excited to be here and to be late on my first meeting as Queen Mum!"

And one of the ladies at the table raises and eyebrow and says, "And she's the Queen Mum to boot!"

She looks up and realizes she doesn't know a soul at the table.  She was so focused on being late and getting in that she didn't realize that this wasn't her group of Red Hat ladies.  It was a group of ladies from a Presbyterian Church.  She jumps up, again apologizing, and tries to get out but again, the carpet, the chairs, the ladies having to move.  They eventually just invited her to stay and have lunch with them, to which she replied, "Oh God, NO!" and flees.  When she got home she realized she had the wrong restaurant entirely.

I just wish I could know what those church ladies thought as she come breezing in with her purple dress, big earrings, giant red hat, scepter in hand and sits at their table claiming to be the Queen Mum.

The latest

Littlest A came through surgery great.  They are "fairly confident" that draining the cysts will be all he needs.  His breathing tube came out today so I'm hoping he'll be home soon.

The Situation has a name

The Situation That Could Not Be Named now has a name....Littlest A.  My nephew, Little A, is now a big brother.

It's a long, mostly unhappy, story.  Most of it still isn't my story to broadcast.  It's a long, long story, but I don't feel right putting it all out there.  Most of it isn't important now anyway.  What is important is that he's here, and he's sick.

While my brother's ex-girlfriend was pregnant, they thought Littlest A had a stroke in utero.  They told her he'd likely have significant brain damage.  While the stroke they thought he had was catastrophic enough to kill an adult, in a fetus they just didn't know.  She was sent to an even bigger hospital with all sorts of specialists to have an MRI.

The MRI showed no stroke.  But he did have a brain cyst.  Now the brain cyst is an improvement over a stroke.  At least they said they didn't think he'd have brain damage now.  But then the cyst started to grow.  And then another cyst appeared.

He's a few days old now and has been in the NICU since he was born.  They thought he may have some issues with his bowels since he couldn't hold anything down, but that seems to have been resolved. 

He's having surgery today to drain the cysts.  If it works and they stay drained, good.  If it doesn't work and they fill up again or more grow, he'll have to have a shunt put in and hope for the best.  If that doesn't work...well I don't want to know and I don't want to think about it.

I haven't even got to see the little guy yet since he's been in the NICU.  But I'm pulling for him.  If you're they praying, good thought sending, positive energy type person, now would be a good time to send that his way.

Pause

Finished working out, sorer than usual, I pull up in front of the house and feel sadness pressing down on me like one of the weights at the gym.  I slowly climb the five steps to the porch, feeling each muscle in my legs, and pause for a moment before opening the door.

Do I really want to go in?

For the few seconds I'm standing there, frozen with my hand slightly extended towards the doorknob, the day runs through my head.  The alarm going off, the husband ignoring it, the eight hours of work at a job I seem to hate a little more each day, the TV the kids watched when the husband finally got up, showering before breakfast for the first time since...since I can't remember when even though we fight about it because the whole day gets off to a bad start and I don't understand why he bothers to set his alarm if he's not going to get his ass out of bed.  Running out of Cheerios and remembering I never did get to the store for a few things I needed for dinners for the rest of the week.  The kids getting to play in what was left of the melting snow for the first time all winter and thinking, "It's March, it's about effing time." then feeling bad because we've had some snow, just been too busy to take them out to play.  The big red helium balloons they got from their grandmother, waving in my face.  Feeling hungover from staying up till 2 am, sobbing, because I still miss our babies so. very. much. and because I actually got up when the alarm went off.  The nap time where no sleep actually took place.  The emptying of the pottys, the pooping in the underwear, the constant praise and fake excitement over excrement in the proper receptacle.  The yelling, the hitting, the biting, the time outs, the climbing, the touching, the needing.

I'm standing there, paused, do I really want to go in?

I think of what waits inside, the toys everywhere, the cats that won't stop meowing, the dinner that needs cooking, the weeks worth of mail I haven't had time to sort, the bills that need to be paid, the laundry that was promised that would done but I know it wasn't, the recycling that hasn't been taken to the curb in a month, collecting in the corner, promised that it would be taken care of but it's not.  The floor that needs to be swept, the table that needs to be washed before it's sanitary to eat off it,  the shower I need to take but it then I won't have time to cook dinner before everyone is hungry. 

Do I really want to go in?

Do I?

No.  I just don't.  I want to run away.  Hide.  I'm still standing there, paused.  I slowly reach for the door knob while my head screams RUN. 

I go in.

The kids who haven't napped, only one is wearing pants.  The husband who promised to take care of the recyclables.  The recyclables in the corner, threatening to take us over.  The dinner still frozen, the fish hasn't thawed, no idea what we're eating tonight now and it's already five o'clock.  The odd smell, almost like garbage, the recyclables maybe?  The trash?  I don't know.  The house needs to be aired out but it's freezing out.  I set down my gym bag and take the shower anyway.  Look in the closet, no clean clothes.  I knew the laundry promise was empty. 

I wish I could wrap this up neatly, say I was glad I went in, that it's all worth it, but sometimes, I just don't know.  I don't know what the kids had for dinner.  I don't know what I'll have for dinner.  I don't know where the laundry is or when the bills will get paid or when the recyclables, which have now been bagged up I see and inexplicably are sitting on the dining room table, where we eat, will get taken out.  I don't know where the laundry is much less when it will be put away.  I don't know if my heart will ever feel whole again when I think about our babies.  I don't know if I'll take the new job, or if I'll even interview for it officially.  I don't know if I want to work outside the house.  I don't know if I count on my husband for the big things if I can't count on him for the small things.  I imagine one day I'll long for hugs and climbing in my lap all the time, but I don't know when.  I don't know when I'll feel like everyone can manage on their own for a little while so I can have some time to myself.  I don't know when I'll stop fantasizing about my own room or my own apartment.

I don't know if I'm glad I went in.

Like a tribute band, but tasty

If you aren't reading Cake Wrecks, you are really missing out.  Hilarious.  When I first saw the Tom Selleck cake on there, the first thing I did was IM my sister the link.  (Seriously, go click the link, otherwise the rest of the post will make NO sense and you'll think I'm crazy.  Or have fantasies about Tom Selleck.  Only one of those is remotely true.) 

We laughed at it together and I told her I was totally going to make it for her birthday and she laughed and said that it would be funny.  That was back in September and we didn't speak about it again.  Her birthday is in December and this is what she got:

My very own Cake Wreck tribute cake, Naked, Hairy Tom Selleck.  Needless to say, it was hit. 

Christmas Fail

I've been meaning to write this post for awhile, but then I saw the Parent Bloggers Network and FFDA were doing a blog blast about being overwhelmed at the holidays.  Perfect timing.

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I suck at Christmas this year.

Usually I'm the one who sends out Christmas cards the first week in December, has the tree and lights and decorations done the weekend after Thanksgiving.  Christmas shopping done long before now.  Wrapping even done by now too.

This year, I don't know quite what the problem is.  I blame trying to work 40 hours a week (me) and way, way more than 40 hours a week (Dave) and having two two year olds and a house on the market.  Not that we have a lot of stress or anything.

This year, well this year I suck.  We do have our tree up and decorated after it sat naked in our living room for over a week.  I just sent the Christmas cards yesterday.  I'm done shopping, but still have a few things to put together and nothing is wrapped.  There are no lights outside, not even a wreath on the door.  My nutcrackers, all 8.2 billion of them which I love dearly, are still packed away with the rest of the decorations.  I thought about putting them out but when I realized exactly how close to Christmas we are and how soon I'd just have to pack it all away again, well, it's just not happening this year.

But that's ok.  This year the boys are starting to get into Christmas.  We've done our trips to Valley View Farms to look at the decorated trees and to 34th Street to see the lights.  Both were met with OH WOW!   We made cinnamon ornaments which was fun even if most of them broke.  We've watched almost all the kid friendly Christmas movies we own.  They especially love Rudolph and Frosty. We have a very full schedule for the next couple of weeks and we'll just focus on being together with our families.  I'm a little sad I just don't have the time or energy to do all we normally do, but I'm doing my best to let it go. 

Happy Thanksgiving

While I'm not thankful Nick walked in on me in the shower, I am thankful he is too young to be permanently scarred by it.

Embarassing Moments in History, Part One -The Early Years

Since I promised some pictures of me with mile high bangs, I was flipping through our old family photo albums the other day.  So now I have not only a couple of pictures with mile high bangs, but many bad pictures to share so you can feel my pain.

Let's start of with the early years:

Awww.  That dark area on top of my head is actually a birthmark.  It's under my hair but goes all over my scalp down to the back of my neck.

I didn't have much hair when I was born, but I soon made up for it:

Which pretty much set the tone for the rest of my life with my hair and will play a recurring role in the photos.

Elementary school was pre-mile high bangs, but you can see why my hair plagues me.

Why, yes, I am holding my breathe above water.  In a wading pool. 

  

Fifth grade brought a new hairstyle.  One I'm obviously thrilled with in the second picture.  I think it was supposed to be feathered.  Feathered bangs and curly/wavy hair do not work well together.  And yes, it was the eighties. 

Tomorrow we'll go to middle school where mile high bangs make their first, but not last, appearance.

A two day food extravaganza

Because Mama needs a new roasting pan, this post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.

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I don't think it's any surprise that I like food.  I like eating it, I like cooking it, I like family meals and coming together around it.  In my family, Thanksgiving is an event.  Growing up, I remember my dad grabbing his plate and literally running around the table.  We used to have dinner with just my brother, sister, and parents and then would go out visiting.  As our families have grown and changed, so have the holidays.  Usually we see Dave's parents and brothers in the morning for breakfast and then go to my aunt's house for dinner.  This has worked extremely well for us.  I dream of having a big enough house and dining room though to have everyone over to our house. 

When my side of the family cooks, we cook in a big way.  Here's the leftovers from a typical Thanksgiving:

And that doesn't include dessert which is normally pumpkin pie, apple pie, mincemeat pie my grandmother insists on making though no one eats it, pumpkin cheesecake (my specialty), and a variety of cookies.   Not to mention the occasional birthday cake for my cousin whose birthday sometimes falls on Thanksgiving.  All those leftovers have lead to our Day 2 tradition where we get together the next day and do it all again. 

I usually spend the day before baking up pumpkin cheesecakes which are always a big hit.  It sounds like it would be a complicated recipe.  I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit I got the recipe off a coupon for cream cheese.  Hey, I stick with what works.

Solutions...or lack thereof

My grandmother has been sick.  Really sick.  Like "I've never felt so bad in my life" sick.  She has bronchiectasis which, best I understand it, means she has chronic bacteria in her lungs that live there and she can't get rid of.  So when she catches a cold or exposed to something, not only does she get that, but the other bacteria flare up and she gets really sick.  Between my grandfather being in the hospital and the wedding with a bunch of people, she caught something. 

My mom and I went to her house Saturday to check on her.  She looked sick.  Really sick.  I wanted to take her to the ER but she wouldn't go.  She settled for urgent care.  They switched her antibiotics (she had been on four days of Levaquin which is heavy duty and was actually getting worse) and gave her a nebulizer treatment.  She's feeling better now, thank goodness, but still is pretty sick.

The bigger issue here is that she can not take a break and just rest.  She has my grandfather to take care of.  He's getting to the point where he needs reminding and help to take a shower, get dressed, toileted, etc.  She has to make him meals or he will forget to eat.  Same with drinks.  If she leaves the house without him, he can't remember where she's gone or when she'll be back.  It's overwhelming and she's at her breaking point as anyone would be in this situation.

Ideally, they would both come live with one of us.  My aunt though just got married and has stairs in her house that wouldn't work.  My uncle has three kids still at home, also stairs.  My mom has no stairs, but my brother, his baby, his girlfriend, and my sister already living there.  We have no room and stairs.  If we EVER sell this house, we'll look for a new one with room, but who knows when that will be. 

Less than ideally, Pop will have to go to a nursing home.  He will be more confused and probably deteriorate quickly.  My grandmother will feel guilty and besides, I have no idea how they will pay for it.  She says the VA told her his benefits do not cover a nursing home.  And the one near them, where my great aunt died rather unexpectedly, is $5000 a month. 

I talked to her today and the VA is going to cover having a home health aide come in 14 hours a week indefinitely.  This will allow them to come in, get him bathed and dressed and shaved at least three times a week.  We've talked to her about adult day care, but her fear is that my grandfather won't go (he refused when he was more lucid) or that he'll get combative there (a real possibility). 

But as she says, it's not going to get better.  There are no good solutions.  They both need help and I don't know what else to do for them.