Sunday, July 19, 2009

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Tough Day

Something must have been in the air today. Corey started off with an attitude and energy that was so bad, neither Madelyn nor Maisy wanted to be near him. Neither did I, but not the same as them, haha. Not sure what his deal was, but by the time we were on the road this morning, he seemed to have settled back down.

He had school today. When it was over, he reported having passed three tests. An hour or so later his teacher called to discuss his lack of progress. Thankfully, Mom was able to take Corey back so he could do some of the things he had claimed to have completed. Between his problems today and the fact that he's grounded indefinitely from the computer for checking out porn... again... and causing problems on our computer... again... I'm not clear why my mom let him play Civilization this afternoon.

Every school I stopped at today had something come up that took longer than expected. One stop was supposed to last about 10 minutes, max. Forty-five minutes later, I finally clawed my way out the door (okay, that's a wee exaggeration... I love that class and would have liked to stay longer, but my schedule was slammed).

The teachers I met with or spoke to on the phone had one drama after another. At one school, I arrived just as one student was being wheeled out of the classroom and into an ambulance. It had taken the school nurse two minutes to locate her pulse because she is over-medicated. Her foster mother stood there claiming it was "not medical, it's behavioral." Yeah, right. A mentally retarded girl is feigning being unconscious with a weak pulse. We all get that the girl is "hell on wheels" without medication, but I still want to know who put this woman in charge of kids?!?

When all was said and done, I went out to see Ken and Nance at the hospital. Another friend, Evie, was also there. I walked in and proceeded to put three masks on my head. One over my nose and mouth and the other two over my ears. I can't always make them laugh, but it worked today.

Nancy has requested that the doctors and nurses continue to give Ken blood products until he is unconscious. That way he will never feel like he gave up or was a quitter. After my shenanigans, I went over to greet Ken. He looked so sad. He was so sad. He knows things are not working. I asked if there was anything I could do for him, expecting that he would ask me to pray. Instead, he shook his head no and said there was nothing anybody could do. I held his hand and told him I loved him and we all just tried to breathe our way through the pain. Ken's concentration on his breathing reminded me of being in labor.

We got through the moment and talked about cars and yards. I held back from saying anything like, "When you come up and see the house... ," but those thoughts were still right there, even though I know he won't.

I'm not sure why there were no tissues in his room, but we all agreed that the toilet paper is soft and absorbent, and thank goodness for that.

Sometimes he pulled one knee up as he lay there. That's how he was when I walked in. I honestly didn't understand that it was his leg at first. I thought maybe he had some sort of device to keep the blankets off his legs. It didn't seem possible that it was his leg.

When their son and his fiancee arrived, I hit the road. The drive to get Corey was uneventful, but between Mom's (where Corey stays) and Dad's (where Mad goes), there had been some sort of pursuit and an entire neighborhood was blocked off. Sometimes it's really good that all of my voice mail messages don't get to me right away. Here's the one my dad left:

"Hi Sis, just wanted to let you know there's a lot of police activity in the area. They're looking for someone from a pursuit. Call me before you come over. All of our doors are locked, but we don't want you having any problems getting out of your car and maybe getting hurt or having your car taken."

Then in true, Mr. I'm-In-Control-of-the-Situation, he added, "But we're fine so don't worry."

Tom just arrived home from what he said was his worst softball game ever. The man never curses... apparently unless it's his worst softball game ever.

So it seems like the best thing to do right now is to shut this computer off, crawl into bed and pull the covers... and possibly the pillow... over my head.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

This Just In...

The past 24 hours or so have brought a couple of shocking revelations to my life. One is from the Jerry Springer corner of the world, so let's just get that straight out of the way: My once beloved high school band teacher seems to have engaged in - at best - a highly inappropriate relationship with one of his students. On this topic, I have many thoughts. Most of them circle around the phrase, "What the hell were they thinking?!"

In Mazur's case (and yeah, that's what we called him... odd to read it in the paper like that), I remember when he and his bride had their son. His family was his life away from music. Six years ago I started working in the district where I went to school. He was doing this community band with high schoolers, so I occasionally ran into him at different locations. Even then it was all about what his kids were doing. His kids, by the way, are both older than the girl in question.

Which brings me to the girl. I know high school girls can be incredibly stupid and naive, especially where older men are concerned. I was a high school girl once, and I speak from experience (albeit not this one!). So he's "more on her intellectual level," okay, I get that. But did she look at the man?!? I mean, 24 years ago when I was a wee freshman band geek, Mazur was a balding, fat man with huge lips and a tendency to be an excessive salivator. Six years ago, he looked exactly the same but older. Eww!

Now that I have that out of my system, here's the shocker that has me most... well, you know. And really, considering it's my husband we're talking about here, I'm not sure why I'm shocked at all... in retrospect.

We've been talking all along about how I have to get pregnant this summer or it's just not going to work out for us. Let me clarify that.

I've been talking about that and Tom's been doing the smile and nod.

I asked him last night what he felt we should do if I don't get pregnant this month. I was trying to broach the when-can-I-reasonably-talk-about-getting-my-tubes-tied-like-we-originally-planned topic. I was about knocked out of my chair when he said that we should keep trying for another five to eight months. The whole "let's make a baby this summer" conversations were apparently centered around what's convenient.

What?!?! I'm thirty-freaking-eight years old! So are my eggs! And I work a job that allows me to be off most of summer. So having a baby in the early spring makes the most sense because that affords me the most time off with said bebeh!


Clearly we're going to have to come up with a better compromise here. Or, you know... if I could just get pregnant in the next few weeks, that'd solve a lot of problems right there. We'll see.

Tom thinks part of the problem is that I'm still occasionally nursing Mad. I know no fewer than half a dozen women who have recently nursed through pregnancy, but much like chocolate and coffee (things I cannot indulge in while gestating), nursing could also be verboten. So we're making a concerted effort to stop. It's purely for comfort now (for Mad) and sleep extending (for me). We made it three days, but today there was no stopping her.

I personally think the main "problem" with me getting pregnant is that I keep obsessing about it. So let's move on, shall we?

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Sixteen Years

... ago this night, I was in labor with my son. Around now the second epidural was finally starting to do its magic. Yeah, I saw fireworks that night, just not the ones anybody else saw. Except maybe that screaming woman a few rooms away. Jeez!

Just after midnight, my beautiful, perfect son was born. Bright-eyed and completely interested in all the loving faces surrounding him. That was such a long time ago. It was yesterday, too.

Here's a little tidbit you never knew about him. Aside from a Gameboy Advance, Corey's never owned a gaming system. He's had to go to friends' houses or have them bring their systems to our place (or Grammy's, as the case may be). He's been saving up part of his allowance to get one. I checked into it. Turns out, he's about 1/3 of the way there. Just for the freaking system. No games.

A week or so ago Corey decided he wanted to go to Medieval Times for his birthday. When you make a decision like that a week before your birthday AND said birthday is on a holiday weekend, chances are nil (as it turns out) that any of your friends will still be available. Or your favorite cousin.

Tom and I would have gone with him alone, but that wasn't cool enough, apparently. So he's requested dinner at Claim Jumper. Now that place can be expensive, but it's got nothing on a dinner show for five people. So all of the money we aren't spending at Medieval Times is going toward an XBox 360.

I told Corey that all the local stores are out of stock right now.

I checked on and we can get a used one (you should have seen the wrinkled nose!!) for $100 less than retail, and it can be here on Tuesday. Or we can get a new one shipped to us from Best Buy and it'll be here in 10 days.

I told him I didn't know if that's 10 days from today or 10 days from tomorrow (what, with today being a holiday and all) or even 10 days from Monday, since a lot of places aren't open on Sundays.

Shall we start counting the lies? I, who never lie to my son, even when the truth really hurts have told no fewer than half a dozen lies over the course of the day today.

I mean, the online ordering stuff is true. Except that I do know the one from Best Buy would arrive on the 14th. Other lies of the day include:
  • "I'm not going to Target."
  • "We're not getting it today."
  • "I don't know if you can get Halo2, too, just yet."
Upstairs next to my bed is a set of wrapped packages. The XBox, an extra controller and Halo2. If only it were always this easy to make him happy.

I can't wait for tomorrow even more than he can't wait. My quandary is this: Do we give him the gifts in the morning and lose him to the TV all day? Or wait until we're at the restaurant? Which is... oh, about 45 miles from here. Part of me wants to wake him at 12:24 AM like I used to do before he was a surly teen, love him up and then give him his gifts.
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