When did it become customary to list your "Dislikes" next to your "Likes" in an obituary?
Direct quote from an obituary in today's local paper:
"Larry disliked beets, drive thrus, musicals and Jane Fonda."
(Yes, Larry was a Vietnam Vet, in case you were wondering)
This has me wondering what I hate enough to request that it be listed in my obituary.
Yardwork.
Bees.
Ray Lewis.
Soccer. (Known in my house as the "S word")
Pea soup.
What's on YOUR list?
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
22 years ago
I have a "dark day". It's September 2nd.
22 years ago, the phone rang and my world collapsed.
It wasn't even my phone, it was a pay phone.
It was my freshman year in college and my room didn't have phone service yet, so I would get a phone call every night from my mom.
I couldn't figure out why she was calling me this night though. She had just dropped me off that day, Labor Day, after 3 days at home with friends and family.
"I have bad news", she said.
"Grandpa's dead.", I said. One of my worst fears.
"No, it's Brian." I think I was held up off the ground, by the phone cord.
His name was Brian Wilhelm and he was my world. He was funny, charming, and flawed. He was 10 years older than me, but I loved him. We both thought he was invincible.
And he was killed by his best friend who was drinking and driving.
Make good choices, everyone. Don't create a dark day for someone who loves you.
Rest in peace, Willie. I miss you very much. Every time I pick up a friend at a bar to give them a safe ride home, I do it in your honor.
22 years ago, the phone rang and my world collapsed.
It wasn't even my phone, it was a pay phone.
It was my freshman year in college and my room didn't have phone service yet, so I would get a phone call every night from my mom.
I couldn't figure out why she was calling me this night though. She had just dropped me off that day, Labor Day, after 3 days at home with friends and family.
"I have bad news", she said.
"Grandpa's dead.", I said. One of my worst fears.
"No, it's Brian." I think I was held up off the ground, by the phone cord.
His name was Brian Wilhelm and he was my world. He was funny, charming, and flawed. He was 10 years older than me, but I loved him. We both thought he was invincible.
And he was killed by his best friend who was drinking and driving.
Make good choices, everyone. Don't create a dark day for someone who loves you.
Rest in peace, Willie. I miss you very much. Every time I pick up a friend at a bar to give them a safe ride home, I do it in your honor.
Monday, August 5, 2013
To the Point
Lucy is reaching for a bag of BarBQue potato chips.
I say to her "Momma, can I have a chip, please? Use one of those words to get a chippie, Lucy."
She looks at me and says "Yum."
Close enough, kiddo. Close enough.
I say to her "Momma, can I have a chip, please? Use one of those words to get a chippie, Lucy."
She looks at me and says "Yum."
Close enough, kiddo. Close enough.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Hey Mom...
Heard at my house today...
"Hey Mom - was Justin Bieber at Selena Gomez's birthday party?"
"I don't know, buddy...I wasn't invited."
"Hey Mom - was Justin Bieber at Selena Gomez's birthday party?"
"I don't know, buddy...I wasn't invited."
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Jumble Madness
Abby loves doing the jumble in the newspaper. Today she asked for some help.
"Mom - the 5 letters are P...U...Y...S...." (What the ...???)
"and O."
Yeah...that's "SOUPY"....close one.
"Mom - the 5 letters are P...U...Y...S...." (What the ...???)
"and O."
Yeah...that's "SOUPY"....close one.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Yep, no doubt about it
Lucy is standing up, bent in half, with her head resting on a chair, farting and laughing.
Yeah...no DNA test required....she's mine.
Yeah...no DNA test required....she's mine.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Lookie Loos
Crazytown has relocated for the week...in other words, we are on vacation.
On our second day of vacation, we met up with some members of my family for lunch and a trip to the local zoo. We decided on McDonalds for lunch and due to the warm weather, decided to eat inside.
There were 7 of us:
myself, Rob, Abby, Lucy
a new friend who is a 7 year old girl, and
my aunt and uncle.
We ate lunch rather quietly for such a large group. When we were leaving, I noticed that nearly every person in the room was openly staring at us. (Rob noticed too)
I have had people look at us before, sometimes they think Rob is someone famous (he's been accused of being a former professional athlete) or sometimes when one of the kids is disruptive, but I ABSOLUTELY believe we were being stared at because we were with a biracial couple. I asked my aunt, who said that in the neighborhood we were in, that was likely the case. Sad.
Get over it, people. My aunt and uncle have been married for nearly 40 years and have been living in your town for 24 years.
If I had a few more days, I would organize a flash mob of gay couples (some of them with different skin colors too) in the parking lot to really freak out the lookie-loos from McDonalds.
Tolerance and acceptance for everyone. Get on board.
On our second day of vacation, we met up with some members of my family for lunch and a trip to the local zoo. We decided on McDonalds for lunch and due to the warm weather, decided to eat inside.
There were 7 of us:
myself, Rob, Abby, Lucy
a new friend who is a 7 year old girl, and
my aunt and uncle.
We ate lunch rather quietly for such a large group. When we were leaving, I noticed that nearly every person in the room was openly staring at us. (Rob noticed too)
I have had people look at us before, sometimes they think Rob is someone famous (he's been accused of being a former professional athlete) or sometimes when one of the kids is disruptive, but I ABSOLUTELY believe we were being stared at because we were with a biracial couple. I asked my aunt, who said that in the neighborhood we were in, that was likely the case. Sad.
Get over it, people. My aunt and uncle have been married for nearly 40 years and have been living in your town for 24 years.
If I had a few more days, I would organize a flash mob of gay couples (some of them with different skin colors too) in the parking lot to really freak out the lookie-loos from McDonalds.
Tolerance and acceptance for everyone. Get on board.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
I still laugh...
Before I begin this story, I want to state in advance that I received my father's permission to share this hysterical tale. My dad told me this story several years ago and when I think of it, I still laugh. I hope you also enjoy it.
My dad is a funny guy. He loves corny jokes and puns. In fact, one might say he is "punny". And if they did, he'd probably chuckle. Dad is a big guy. He once towered over us at 6'4", but 60 some years of hard work now have him closer to 6'1". He fluctuates between a 2X and a 3X.
So one day, my dad goes into the bathroom and takes a shower. He steps out of the shower onto a bathmat and pulls his towel off the rack. He begins to dry his body, and bends over to dry his feet. While he is drying his feet, the shower curtain finds it's way between his butt cheeks. After his feet are dry, he straightens up, the shower curtain stays in it's new invasive home and my father rips the entire shower curtain off the hanger. With his ass cheeks.
I'll wait while you stop laughing.
Last week, on Father's Day, I asked my dad if I could share this story. Later that day, my cousin passed away and it didn't seem appropriate to share at that time. My extended family has spent a few days together, mourning the loss of my cousin and then attempting to enjoy a rare weekend together. Many times will come when life punches you in the gut, and when it does, I hope you think of dad, laughing in the bathroom, shower curtain rings flying.
My dad is a funny guy. He loves corny jokes and puns. In fact, one might say he is "punny". And if they did, he'd probably chuckle. Dad is a big guy. He once towered over us at 6'4", but 60 some years of hard work now have him closer to 6'1". He fluctuates between a 2X and a 3X.
So one day, my dad goes into the bathroom and takes a shower. He steps out of the shower onto a bathmat and pulls his towel off the rack. He begins to dry his body, and bends over to dry his feet. While he is drying his feet, the shower curtain finds it's way between his butt cheeks. After his feet are dry, he straightens up, the shower curtain stays in it's new invasive home and my father rips the entire shower curtain off the hanger. With his ass cheeks.
I'll wait while you stop laughing.
Last week, on Father's Day, I asked my dad if I could share this story. Later that day, my cousin passed away and it didn't seem appropriate to share at that time. My extended family has spent a few days together, mourning the loss of my cousin and then attempting to enjoy a rare weekend together. Many times will come when life punches you in the gut, and when it does, I hope you think of dad, laughing in the bathroom, shower curtain rings flying.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Picture this
I've been neglecting this blog...sorry, just busy here in Crazytown.
Today, Rob takes my cellphone and says "Oh so Lucy is your picture on your one screen and Abby is on the other screen. Why don't you have any pictures of me on here?"
"I do have pictures of you. One where you were carrying groceries and your pants fell down around your ankles. And another when you went grocery shopping and didn't wear a shirt, just a zipped up jacket and shorts. And the one when Lucy barfed on your nipple and it looked like you were lactating...
...I'm a horrible wife."
"Yep."
Today, Rob takes my cellphone and says "Oh so Lucy is your picture on your one screen and Abby is on the other screen. Why don't you have any pictures of me on here?"
"I do have pictures of you. One where you were carrying groceries and your pants fell down around your ankles. And another when you went grocery shopping and didn't wear a shirt, just a zipped up jacket and shorts. And the one when Lucy barfed on your nipple and it looked like you were lactating...
...I'm a horrible wife."
"Yep."
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Quit bashing my home!
Bashing the underdog is easy. Too easy.
This is frequent lately when referring to my hometown, and by "hometown" - I mean the city I was born, raised in and continue to live in.
Yes, our city isn't "the way it used to be". Not many cities are.
We do have drugs, prostitution and buildings in disrepair.
We also have businesses popping up, eyesores being demolished and some people with an extreme pride for their neighborhood.
A local PTA recently got an entire playground build from the ground up, with the hard work from not only parents and teachers, but with financial AND physical assistance from local businesses and clubs.
Yes, we have crime. A man robbed a local bank a week or so ago.
That man was arrested less than 10 minutes later with the help from local witnesses who were brave enough to give information to the police.
We have people like Mr. Rowe, who taught at our high school for many years and continues to teach into his retirement through his involvement with the Community Center. He taught history, but more importantly, he taught things like dignity, respect and pride.
I am proud of my town. Proud of people like the late Grace Girardi who organized a Veterans Day parade from her hospital bed. I'm proud that when I once called City Hall with a question, the Mayor personally called me back and had the answers I needed.
I'm proud to be from the town where the great Willie Thrower was born. I'm proud of the statue that stands in his honor at our football field. I'm proud to have served many cups of coffee to Willie and to have had the opportunity to hold my tiny hand up against his giant palm. Those great hands were and ARE the pride of New Kensington. (Don't know about Willie - go google him)
My grandparents on both sides raised their families in New Kensington. My grandpa on my mother's side owned a restaurant and fed many hungry families. Our priest sent anyone with a hungry belly to Andy's restaurant and we welcomed them with open arms. And when he was done serving his customers, he cooked for church functions. I cannot serve canned green beans without thinking of the yearly dinner for 200 that my family prepared and served for the Anointing of the Sick mass. It was service to the community - and you did it, without complaint. I loved serving those meals - I felt like a celebrity being associated with Fran Datres.
My grandmother on my father's side was a girl scout leader, boy scout den mother, raised 6 children and organized crafts at the local park for FUN. We would do crafts at the park and then the library lending bus would stop by to loan us books. She also wrote, typed and delivered the neighborhood news letter, on her down time. Her "down time" - quite a fallacy, Mary Elston never stopped moving.
These people are no longer around, but many like them exist. KS and JR - girl scout volunteers whose own daughters graduated high school over 10 and 20 years ago, but they continue to volunteer. KM - who has organized the local fireworks display for years. There are many, many more I could mention.
New Kensington's citizens are ready to take back the streets from the crime and drugs. Complaining isn't getting us any closer to "the way things used to be". Getting off our butts and doing something might just get us back to where we were.
And with any luck, we might just get better than we used to be.
And that would make Willie Thrower, Eddie Adams and my grandparents even prouder to be from New Kensington.
This is frequent lately when referring to my hometown, and by "hometown" - I mean the city I was born, raised in and continue to live in.
Yes, our city isn't "the way it used to be". Not many cities are.
We do have drugs, prostitution and buildings in disrepair.
We also have businesses popping up, eyesores being demolished and some people with an extreme pride for their neighborhood.
A local PTA recently got an entire playground build from the ground up, with the hard work from not only parents and teachers, but with financial AND physical assistance from local businesses and clubs.
Yes, we have crime. A man robbed a local bank a week or so ago.
That man was arrested less than 10 minutes later with the help from local witnesses who were brave enough to give information to the police.
We have people like Mr. Rowe, who taught at our high school for many years and continues to teach into his retirement through his involvement with the Community Center. He taught history, but more importantly, he taught things like dignity, respect and pride.
I am proud of my town. Proud of people like the late Grace Girardi who organized a Veterans Day parade from her hospital bed. I'm proud that when I once called City Hall with a question, the Mayor personally called me back and had the answers I needed.
I'm proud to be from the town where the great Willie Thrower was born. I'm proud of the statue that stands in his honor at our football field. I'm proud to have served many cups of coffee to Willie and to have had the opportunity to hold my tiny hand up against his giant palm. Those great hands were and ARE the pride of New Kensington. (Don't know about Willie - go google him)
My grandparents on both sides raised their families in New Kensington. My grandpa on my mother's side owned a restaurant and fed many hungry families. Our priest sent anyone with a hungry belly to Andy's restaurant and we welcomed them with open arms. And when he was done serving his customers, he cooked for church functions. I cannot serve canned green beans without thinking of the yearly dinner for 200 that my family prepared and served for the Anointing of the Sick mass. It was service to the community - and you did it, without complaint. I loved serving those meals - I felt like a celebrity being associated with Fran Datres.
My grandmother on my father's side was a girl scout leader, boy scout den mother, raised 6 children and organized crafts at the local park for FUN. We would do crafts at the park and then the library lending bus would stop by to loan us books. She also wrote, typed and delivered the neighborhood news letter, on her down time. Her "down time" - quite a fallacy, Mary Elston never stopped moving.
These people are no longer around, but many like them exist. KS and JR - girl scout volunteers whose own daughters graduated high school over 10 and 20 years ago, but they continue to volunteer. KM - who has organized the local fireworks display for years. There are many, many more I could mention.
New Kensington's citizens are ready to take back the streets from the crime and drugs. Complaining isn't getting us any closer to "the way things used to be". Getting off our butts and doing something might just get us back to where we were.
And with any luck, we might just get better than we used to be.
And that would make Willie Thrower, Eddie Adams and my grandparents even prouder to be from New Kensington.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
ABCs of me
Addictions: Hummus, hot tea, pop tarts
Bed size: Queen
Chore you hate: washing silverware
Dogs or cats: none of the above
Essential start of your day: Check my email, blood pressure medicine
Favorite color: Green
Gold or silver: Gold but I love silver too
Height: 5'8 1/2" and shrinking by the minute
Instruments you play (or have played): Flute, saxophone
Jobs titles you've had: Lab technician, paralegal, "candle lady"
Kids: Abby, Lucy and my step-daughter, Amber
Live: Near enough Pittsburgh to enjoy it, far enough away to enjoy it
Mom’s name: Terry, aka Granny
Nickname: Sparkles, Sass, Momma Dog
Overnight hospital stays: ankle surgery, childbirth (X2)
Pet peeve: Your/you're
Quote from a movie: "What's your damage, Heather?" (I ask Rob this all the time)
Right or left handed: Right
Siblings: 1 brother and 3 step-brothers
Time you wake up: 7 AM on weekdays. 8:30 AM on weekends
Underwear: See above, my mother's nickname ;)
Vegetables you dislike: Tomatos
What makes you run late: Panic about diaper bag having everything we need, Rob's need to poop right before we leave
X-rays you’ve had done: teeth, ankle, back
Yummy food you make: Mexican, Cuban sandwiches, chicken pot pie, cabbage and noodles
Zoo animal: Giraffes, sharks
Monday, May 13, 2013
Mis-fortune cookie
Rob and the girls took me to Chinese buffet for Mother's Day. We also bought take-out for my mother.
Here are our fortunes...
Rob: "Time flies. Suns rise and shadows fall. Let time go by. Love is forever over all."
Me: "You display the wonderful traits of charm and courtesy."
(True, and it mentioned nothing about humility)
Abby: "Time heals all wounds."
Lucy: "You will be known for your generosity."
Mom: "You love Chinese food."
Classic.
Here are our fortunes...
Rob: "Time flies. Suns rise and shadows fall. Let time go by. Love is forever over all."
Me: "You display the wonderful traits of charm and courtesy."
(True, and it mentioned nothing about humility)
Abby: "Time heals all wounds."
Lucy: "You will be known for your generosity."
Mom: "You love Chinese food."
Classic.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Oscar look out! Spoiler alerts ahead!
My Girl Scout troop has been writing and practicing a movie they wrote by themselves. We will be filming it in the next few weeks and will show the parents at our end of the year party.
It is the story of a girl scout trying to sell cookies in an apartment full of crazy neighbors.
Here is a list of the characters created by the girls:
JENESIS: a girl scout trying to sell cookies
CINDY LOU: A cowgirl who is always dancing (Abby's role)
EDNA MURPHY: Eddie Murphy's twin sister, and his biggest fan
CHICKA CHAW: A woman who has a rap group comprised of 9 chickens
SHAYLEE JONAS: A fashion designer
SORROW: A sad, goth girl
MYRTLE BEACH: A British soccer player
MABEL: A nearly blind former spy
CAROL BRADY: A mother of 8 who sings all of her dialogue
CHARLOTTE WEBB: An obsessive exerciser who only eats potatoes
I am directing.
Oscar speech prepared.
At the end of the day, if I have taught them nothing, I have stimulated their creativity and imaginations.
It is the story of a girl scout trying to sell cookies in an apartment full of crazy neighbors.
Here is a list of the characters created by the girls:
JENESIS: a girl scout trying to sell cookies
CINDY LOU: A cowgirl who is always dancing (Abby's role)
EDNA MURPHY: Eddie Murphy's twin sister, and his biggest fan
CHICKA CHAW: A woman who has a rap group comprised of 9 chickens
SHAYLEE JONAS: A fashion designer
SORROW: A sad, goth girl
MYRTLE BEACH: A British soccer player
MABEL: A nearly blind former spy
CAROL BRADY: A mother of 8 who sings all of her dialogue
CHARLOTTE WEBB: An obsessive exerciser who only eats potatoes
I am directing.
Oscar speech prepared.
At the end of the day, if I have taught them nothing, I have stimulated their creativity and imaginations.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Final Jeopardy
I was watching Jeopardy with Rob the other night. Well, he watches and I sit there hating Trebec and his snotty attitude and pretentious accents.
Final Jeopardy question is about Literature.
Knowing that Rob claims to only know anything about 2 books, the Grapes of Wrath and Rumblefish, I quickly steal his answer, "the Grapes of Wrath".
Rob answers "Worthington Heights". I, of course say "What the hell is Worthington Heights?" Rob starts laughing.
Trebec announces the answer "Wuthering Heights"
Rob says "See? I told you."
I just cannot win.
Final Jeopardy question is about Literature.
Knowing that Rob claims to only know anything about 2 books, the Grapes of Wrath and Rumblefish, I quickly steal his answer, "the Grapes of Wrath".
Rob answers "Worthington Heights". I, of course say "What the hell is Worthington Heights?" Rob starts laughing.
Trebec announces the answer "Wuthering Heights"
Rob says "See? I told you."
I just cannot win.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Make 'em Laugh
The great comedy teams of a lifetime.
Abbott and Costello
Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis
Rob and Lucy
In the last half hour, they have argued about Cheese Doodles,
(he yells "one!One!ONE!" - she grabs two and runs away laughing)
she has tried to undo his zipper,
and every time he gets distracted by whatever "Smart ass who isn't a cop but helps the cops" show he is watching, she dives on him and attacks.
(this time is wasn't the Mentalist, Castle or Psych, but rather, Elementary)
We have far too many days without a reason to smile lately. I'll take them when I can get them.
Abbott and Costello
Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis
Rob and Lucy
In the last half hour, they have argued about Cheese Doodles,
(he yells "one!One!ONE!" - she grabs two and runs away laughing)
she has tried to undo his zipper,
and every time he gets distracted by whatever "Smart ass who isn't a cop but helps the cops" show he is watching, she dives on him and attacks.
(this time is wasn't the Mentalist, Castle or Psych, but rather, Elementary)
We have far too many days without a reason to smile lately. I'll take them when I can get them.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Herding the Sheep
Because you care...
She has courage
Because you challenge...
She has confidence
Because you encourage...
She has character
This was a card I received from Girl Scouts USA in honor of Leader Appreciation Day. It reminded me so much of every day with Abby.
On Saturday, we went to a wedding. My kids were the first ones on the dance floor. I took a break from dancing with them and Lucy and I went and sat with Rob for a few minutes.
Rob said "What is Abby doing?" and raised an eyebrow. She was doing a version of Mick Jagger's chicken-like dance and was circling the outside of the crowd of dancers. It was hysterical (my mother later coined it "herding the sheep") but it was also quite remarkable.
She didn't care what she looked like. She wasn't holding in her stomach, wishing her Spanx was working better, like her mother. She wasn't self conscious about anything. She wasn't keeping to herself, in a 3 foot square piece of dance floor she carved out for herself, like most of us tend to do. She proudly strutted around the crowd.
And I must say I am jealous, for she dances like no one is watching and if she knows you are watching, she flicks her bangs to the side like Bieber and gives her arm a quick snap.
Courage
Character
Confidence
Abby
She has courage
Because you challenge...
She has confidence
Because you encourage...
She has character
This was a card I received from Girl Scouts USA in honor of Leader Appreciation Day. It reminded me so much of every day with Abby.
On Saturday, we went to a wedding. My kids were the first ones on the dance floor. I took a break from dancing with them and Lucy and I went and sat with Rob for a few minutes.
Rob said "What is Abby doing?" and raised an eyebrow. She was doing a version of Mick Jagger's chicken-like dance and was circling the outside of the crowd of dancers. It was hysterical (my mother later coined it "herding the sheep") but it was also quite remarkable.
She didn't care what she looked like. She wasn't holding in her stomach, wishing her Spanx was working better, like her mother. She wasn't self conscious about anything. She wasn't keeping to herself, in a 3 foot square piece of dance floor she carved out for herself, like most of us tend to do. She proudly strutted around the crowd.
And I must say I am jealous, for she dances like no one is watching and if she knows you are watching, she flicks her bangs to the side like Bieber and gives her arm a quick snap.
Courage
Character
Confidence
Abby
Monday, April 15, 2013
Starve a Cold, Feed a Fever...
...Shop through Sadness.
Bombs are going off in the streets.
Children are being injured.
Mindless violence.
Conspiracy theories.
Loss of life and limbs
What's a girl to do?
I shopped online.
Wedding gifts for Vincent and Terrence. Yes - a gay wedding - take that terrorists.
Mother's Day gift for my mother
Birthday gift for my mother
Printer cartridges that I have needed for weeks
All purchases were necessary
All purchases were on my long term to-do list
Searching for the perfect items distracted me from the news coverage
If only for a moment
Bombs are going off in the streets.
Children are being injured.
Mindless violence.
Conspiracy theories.
Loss of life and limbs
What's a girl to do?
I shopped online.
Wedding gifts for Vincent and Terrence. Yes - a gay wedding - take that terrorists.
Mother's Day gift for my mother
Birthday gift for my mother
Printer cartridges that I have needed for weeks
All purchases were necessary
All purchases were on my long term to-do list
Searching for the perfect items distracted me from the news coverage
If only for a moment
Sunday, April 7, 2013
What I Like About You
I use the internet, via facebook, email and other blogs to do a lot of bargain shopping. And one bargain that I recently purchased has proven to be priceless, even though I got it for free and only paid shipping.
I bought the "I Like Book for couples" recently from www.theilikebook.com. It was a special I found that gave 1 book per household for free,and you only paid shipping.
When I got the book, I was slightly surprised at what I found. It was a book strictly made up of the following prompt "I like.....", 730 times. That's it. No relationship tips - eh, a random poem here and there, but that's it. But this book has been a pleasant surprise.
Each person in the couple is meant to write what they like about the other person every day, for an entire year. Rob and I have been writing for a week and in my case certainly, it has reminded me of what I like, as well as love about my husband. I have also learned things about Rob in the last 7 days that I didn't know. Things he likes about me - and if that doesn't perk up your ego after nearly 15 years, nothing will.
The company makes books for couples, parent and child and several others.
Even if you don't grab this book, maybe make a conscious effort to tell your partner what you like about them every day, maybe on a post-it if you want.
Tell your child. Tell your best friend.
Tell yourself.
I like sharing our life on this blog with our family and friends (and 25 Russians).
Go back a few posts if that confuses you.
I bought the "I Like Book for couples" recently from www.theilikebook.com. It was a special I found that gave 1 book per household for free,and you only paid shipping.
When I got the book, I was slightly surprised at what I found. It was a book strictly made up of the following prompt "I like.....", 730 times. That's it. No relationship tips - eh, a random poem here and there, but that's it. But this book has been a pleasant surprise.
Each person in the couple is meant to write what they like about the other person every day, for an entire year. Rob and I have been writing for a week and in my case certainly, it has reminded me of what I like, as well as love about my husband. I have also learned things about Rob in the last 7 days that I didn't know. Things he likes about me - and if that doesn't perk up your ego after nearly 15 years, nothing will.
The company makes books for couples, parent and child and several others.
Even if you don't grab this book, maybe make a conscious effort to tell your partner what you like about them every day, maybe on a post-it if you want.
Tell your child. Tell your best friend.
Tell yourself.
I like sharing our life on this blog with our family and friends (and 25 Russians).
Go back a few posts if that confuses you.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
I am a mom.
I am a damn good mom. And I had a damn fine day.
Today, I cooked three different breakfasts for 4 people.
Thank God Rob eats the same meal as me.
Today, I gave an inspirational speech about "showing a poop who is boss"
Twenty minutes later, I congratulated that person on "being a really good pooper"
Today, I watched a 1 year old fall asleep clutching a french fry.
Twenty minutes later, I ate that french fry. Not my finest moment.
Today, I told a teenager she could NOT join Justin Bieber's fan club for 99 dollars a year.
I will probably have that conversation again tomorrow.
Oh - correction...$99 plus shipping. What the eff are they shipping?
Today, the local mall had a gun show and kids in a Lego building contest at the same time.
When my husband mentioned this scheduling was lunacy, I fell in love just a little bit more.
Today, we saw two parents struggling with a child who was clearly autistic and in the middle of a meltdown.
Tonight, I will pray for those parents, and for that little boy. And many, many others.
I hope your Saturday was as nice as mine.
Sarah
I am a damn good mom. And I had a damn fine day.
Today, I cooked three different breakfasts for 4 people.
Thank God Rob eats the same meal as me.
Today, I gave an inspirational speech about "showing a poop who is boss"
Twenty minutes later, I congratulated that person on "being a really good pooper"
Today, I watched a 1 year old fall asleep clutching a french fry.
Twenty minutes later, I ate that french fry. Not my finest moment.
Today, I told a teenager she could NOT join Justin Bieber's fan club for 99 dollars a year.
I will probably have that conversation again tomorrow.
Oh - correction...$99 plus shipping. What the eff are they shipping?
Today, the local mall had a gun show and kids in a Lego building contest at the same time.
When my husband mentioned this scheduling was lunacy, I fell in love just a little bit more.
Today, we saw two parents struggling with a child who was clearly autistic and in the middle of a meltdown.
Tonight, I will pray for those parents, and for that little boy. And many, many others.
I hope your Saturday was as nice as mine.
Sarah
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Random thoughts
Is there any chance Rachel Maddow wants to be my best friend?
Why can't it be as easy to block, hide or delete someone in real life as it is on Facebook?
When will people stop karaokeing "I Can't Make You Love Me"? If your heart isn't laying on the ground, broken, bruised and bloody at the end...leave it to Bonnie Raitt, please and thank you.
I found out a few weeks ago that my husband hates Wynona Judd. I guess one plump, sassy redhead is enough for him to handle.
Sometimes I ask myself..."Am I really a baseball fan, or do I just enjoy a well-groomed mullet?"
Why can't it be as easy to block, hide or delete someone in real life as it is on Facebook?
When will people stop karaokeing "I Can't Make You Love Me"? If your heart isn't laying on the ground, broken, bruised and bloody at the end...leave it to Bonnie Raitt, please and thank you.
I found out a few weeks ago that my husband hates Wynona Judd. I guess one plump, sassy redhead is enough for him to handle.
Sometimes I ask myself..."Am I really a baseball fan, or do I just enjoy a well-groomed mullet?"
and lastly, I had 25 hits on this website from Russia just yesterday
...hello my Russian friends, how the hell did you find me???
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Dart disaster
As those of you who follow my facebook page know, Abby and Rob were in a youth dart tournament over the weekend. They have been practicing twice a week for about a month, since we found a bar that would allow her to play during the afternoon.
Practice was fun, and she had moments of skill/luck and many moments of darts missing the board and hitting the floor. (Truth be told, now that I am out of practice, I throw about the same as her.) We got to the tournament a day earlier than everyone else and we introduced her to the new dart boards so she would feel comfortable.
She had her SWAG hat and SWAG t-shirt (as did Rob) and we had repeatedly discussed with her that it wasn't important that she win, just that she tried and had fun with Dad. As many times as Rob wins at darts, there are plenty of times when he doesn't and we thought we had explained it enough to Abby that having fun was the goal.
But Abby wanted a trophy. And she was not going to be denied.
The rules of the tournament were that the child and adult took turns throwing, trying to take their score from 501 down to exactly zero. When they got close to winning, the child had to be the one to hit the final dart. The tournament directors actually modified the event right before it started and made it easier for the kids to win the game.
Abby and Rob played well in her first match, which was Best of 3. (First team to win 2 games moves on) They actually played a friend of ours and his daughter, which was nice. Abby and Rob did not win their first match (I can't even type the "L" word) and had to next play another team who did not win in the first match.
Long story short (and I can't bear to write all the details), they didn't win. She didn't seem to be too upset about losing at the time, though.
Abby went to check the chart to see when they would play next and I called her over to explain that everyone gets two losses, and then they are done.
That didn't go well.
She started to cry loudly and Rob and other members of our family rushed her out of the room while I stayed to explain to the woman running the chart what was happening. I tearfully told her about Abby's autism and she teared up with me. I quickly exited and found Abby in the hall, surrounded by her loved ones, still crying. When I got there, Rob escaped to the bathroom because he was overcome with emotion and needed to cry himself. He felt like he let her down - my heart was broken for them both.
My brother and brother-in-law both tried to make her laugh with stories of their many losses over the weekend. Tournament officials checked up on us and told Abby that someone wanted to talk to her. It was Johnny K, the Number 1 ranked American dart shooter, who was running the event. He tried his best to comfort her with stories of losing and continuing to practice to improve. He also said he had a medal for her, but he would get it to her after his next match.
Eventually, Abby calmed down enough to go inside with Uncle Pat, her godfather and wait for her medal. She got her medal, thanked the tournament directors and we went home.
Which brings me to the biggest doubt any parent of a special needs child has: Am I challenging them enough? Am I pushing too hard? Will I ever have all the answers?
Would Abby have been better off never trying to play darts? I don't think so. Could we have prepared her for possibly losing more? Maybe. Will things ever go the way I expect them to? Never. Will I ever stop second guessing myself. Not a chance.
Practice was fun, and she had moments of skill/luck and many moments of darts missing the board and hitting the floor. (Truth be told, now that I am out of practice, I throw about the same as her.) We got to the tournament a day earlier than everyone else and we introduced her to the new dart boards so she would feel comfortable.
She had her SWAG hat and SWAG t-shirt (as did Rob) and we had repeatedly discussed with her that it wasn't important that she win, just that she tried and had fun with Dad. As many times as Rob wins at darts, there are plenty of times when he doesn't and we thought we had explained it enough to Abby that having fun was the goal.
But Abby wanted a trophy. And she was not going to be denied.
The rules of the tournament were that the child and adult took turns throwing, trying to take their score from 501 down to exactly zero. When they got close to winning, the child had to be the one to hit the final dart. The tournament directors actually modified the event right before it started and made it easier for the kids to win the game.
Abby and Rob played well in her first match, which was Best of 3. (First team to win 2 games moves on) They actually played a friend of ours and his daughter, which was nice. Abby and Rob did not win their first match (I can't even type the "L" word) and had to next play another team who did not win in the first match.
Long story short (and I can't bear to write all the details), they didn't win. She didn't seem to be too upset about losing at the time, though.
Abby went to check the chart to see when they would play next and I called her over to explain that everyone gets two losses, and then they are done.
That didn't go well.
She started to cry loudly and Rob and other members of our family rushed her out of the room while I stayed to explain to the woman running the chart what was happening. I tearfully told her about Abby's autism and she teared up with me. I quickly exited and found Abby in the hall, surrounded by her loved ones, still crying. When I got there, Rob escaped to the bathroom because he was overcome with emotion and needed to cry himself. He felt like he let her down - my heart was broken for them both.
My brother and brother-in-law both tried to make her laugh with stories of their many losses over the weekend. Tournament officials checked up on us and told Abby that someone wanted to talk to her. It was Johnny K, the Number 1 ranked American dart shooter, who was running the event. He tried his best to comfort her with stories of losing and continuing to practice to improve. He also said he had a medal for her, but he would get it to her after his next match.
Eventually, Abby calmed down enough to go inside with Uncle Pat, her godfather and wait for her medal. She got her medal, thanked the tournament directors and we went home.
Which brings me to the biggest doubt any parent of a special needs child has: Am I challenging them enough? Am I pushing too hard? Will I ever have all the answers?
Would Abby have been better off never trying to play darts? I don't think so. Could we have prepared her for possibly losing more? Maybe. Will things ever go the way I expect them to? Never. Will I ever stop second guessing myself. Not a chance.
"Team Swag" at the beginning of the event
Usually, blogging about something makes me feel better. Not so today.
Happier days are coming.
Monday, March 25, 2013
No business like snow business
I almost deleted someone as a Facebook friend today because of their snarky status about snow.
To paraphrase, "Shut up about the snow, deal with it, you live in Pennsylvania."
Kiss my weather-chapped ass.
This is Pennsylvania, spring should look significantly less like "the Deadliest Catch". I'm not a fan of snow, but even the most hardened Pennsylvanian can agree that 5 months of winter is more than any of us signed up for.
5 months? What? Yes...when it starts snowing in November and is still going strong in March - that's 5 months, people.
And I am pretty sure that after 5 months, I have the right to bitch about snow if I want to. Considering my husband leaves for work at 5:15 am well before the roads are usually cleared, I think I have a right to squawk if I want to. And squawk I shall.
Yes, snow is pretty. In December. In March it is merely an inconvenience.
And stop blaming the damn Groundhog, It is a rodent put on display by bored old men in top hats. It is an animal, thrust into the spotlight year after year who is nothing more than severely confused about the goings on around him. (Kind of like Trump does to Gary Busey every year on the Celebrity Apprentice)
I need to go to my happy place, where it is 85 degrees and my babies are happy.
........tonight's blog post has been brought to you by Seasonal Affective Disorder, extended release..............
To paraphrase, "Shut up about the snow, deal with it, you live in Pennsylvania."
Kiss my weather-chapped ass.
This is Pennsylvania, spring should look significantly less like "the Deadliest Catch". I'm not a fan of snow, but even the most hardened Pennsylvanian can agree that 5 months of winter is more than any of us signed up for.
5 months? What? Yes...when it starts snowing in November and is still going strong in March - that's 5 months, people.
And I am pretty sure that after 5 months, I have the right to bitch about snow if I want to. Considering my husband leaves for work at 5:15 am well before the roads are usually cleared, I think I have a right to squawk if I want to. And squawk I shall.
Yes, snow is pretty. In December. In March it is merely an inconvenience.
And stop blaming the damn Groundhog, It is a rodent put on display by bored old men in top hats. It is an animal, thrust into the spotlight year after year who is nothing more than severely confused about the goings on around him. (Kind of like Trump does to Gary Busey every year on the Celebrity Apprentice)
I need to go to my happy place, where it is 85 degrees and my babies are happy.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Midnight questions
Abby and I had a conversation at Midnight
"Hey Buddy, is your Grandma sleeping?" - Me
"Um...she might be sleeping. Otherwise, she's awake." - Abby
"Wow - that was incredibly helpful, Abby." - Me
"You're weird." - Abby
"Hey Buddy, is your Grandma sleeping?" - Me
"Um...she might be sleeping. Otherwise, she's awake." - Abby
"Wow - that was incredibly helpful, Abby." - Me
"You're weird." - Abby
Monday, March 18, 2013
what a difference a year makes
 |
| March - 1 month |
 |
| April - 2 months |
 |
| May - 3 months |
 |
| June - 4 months |
 |
| July - 5 months |
 |
| August - 6 months |
 |
| September - 7 months |
 |
| October - 8 months |
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| November - 9 months |
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| December - 10 months |
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| February - 1 year old!! Wow - did that bear get small or what?? |
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| January - 11 months |
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Cardinal Ray Jepsen
This is a link for Abby's favorite video of Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe"
- we do the dance in the car all the time.
Even Rob does a version of it.
I saw this picture last night and immediately thought - "That would be amazing"
(Is it technically blasphemy if it's funny?)
If so, pray for me.
Monday, March 11, 2013
101 years of magnificence
Happy 101st Birthday to Girl Scouts!
I have been a leader for 8 years now and I still love it!
Abby as a Daisy in 2005 at Petco holding a snake (and completely freaking out her mom)
Learning Archery at Camp Skymeadow November 2010
Abby's certificate for selling 750 boxes of cookies May 2011
I'm so glad we joined Girl Scouts 8 years ago. I have loved the friends and memories we have made!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
What we have here, is failure to communicate
Lucy and I are not speaking the same language.
It's not our fault.
I blame the person who told Lucy that the words "no, No, NO!" mean any of the following things:
1. Put whatever you are holding in your mouth as soon as possible
2. Crawl even faster toward the steps/kitchen/other "no baby zone"
3. Grab your diaper and/or anything that is in there
4. Scream even louder to wake up Daddy
It's a good thing she's so damn cute.
It's not our fault.
I blame the person who told Lucy that the words "no, No, NO!" mean any of the following things:
1. Put whatever you are holding in your mouth as soon as possible
2. Crawl even faster toward the steps/kitchen/other "no baby zone"
3. Grab your diaper and/or anything that is in there
4. Scream even louder to wake up Daddy
It's a good thing she's so damn cute.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Lucy's birth, part 4 - and I finally go home
It was 5 days after I had given birth, I was in ICU, Lucy was home without me and I had no answers as to what was wrong with me.
The ICU doctor finally gave us a diagnosis around dinnertime on Day 5: pulmonary edema. Pulmonary edema happens when your lungs fill with fluid. The doctors did not know why this was happening to me, but they knew how to treat it.
The doctors kept me on a continuous stream of oxygen and made me continue to wear the bipap machine at night. They also continued Lasix in my IV. The Lasix and bipap machine were meant to help push the liquid out of my lungs and replace it with fresh oxygen. It was working. I had to pee every hour or so. Since my fainting incident, I was forced to use a bed pan so I had to call a nurse's aide every hour to put me on and then help me off the bed pan, 5 minutes later.
At one point, Rob was walking downstairs to get something to eat and overheard the aide complaining about all the calls from Room 22. He didn't say anything, he just walked past the nurse's station and went downstairs. When he returned, he was really angry and planned on yelling at the aide. We never saw her again. It was pretty early in her shift and we assumed they saw Rob and moved her to a different ward. How lucky for her.
Early in the afternoon of Day 7, I was transferred out of ICU and back onto the 2700 wing. It was all business without the baby there...breathing treatments, blood pressure checks, plus the added excitement of having to measure ALL fluids going IN and OUT of my body. I had to record every ounce of liquid I drank and had to record every ounce leaving my body, whether through breast milk or peeing. I took my "Whizz Chart" very seriously. I have a degree in Chemistry, I knew I needed data to prove that more liquid was coming out of my body than was going in.
Throughout my entire hospital stay, I pumped breast milk and the nurses froze it for us. Every three hours, Rob would dutifully walk it down to the Nurse's station and have them put it with our other frozen milk. Each tube had a bar code on it that said "Baby Girl Yurga". I was determined that Lucy would get that milk. I was relentless. I pumped night and day.
Day 7 (post-op - Day 8 overall) was a long day. I thought I would be discharged for sure but learned very early in the day that I was not leaving for what might be a few more days. I was distraught. I cried. I pouted. I slept as much as I could. I answered questions with one word sentences. I refused to eat. (I am cheap to the core, so I ordered meals, but let Rob eat them). I was miserable and determined to make everyone around me miserable until they sent me home to my kids. I was a world class asshole.
I was such an asshole that I drove my husband to tears and he took the cell phone and called my friend, my mom and his sister and told them that we needed visitors. I was so depressed I couldn't even think straight - I was just torturing this man who had slept on a couch by my side for 8 days. His sister arrived first, happy to blow off work early and happier to yell at me to knock off my shit and start eating. I ended my hunger strike after about 14 hours and ate a late lunch with Rob and his sister.
I had an exercise Oxygen test, where I had to walk the halls at a very slow pace, without oxygen on and a tech followed me and wrote down my oxygen levels as I slowly walked the halls. I was triumphant when we made the complete circle that I had done it without oxygen, until the tech informed me he had turned it on about 5 minutes in because my numbers dropped severely. Not good news, but the tech informed me that some talk was going around that I might be eventually released with an oxygen tank.
Later that evening, our friend Kelly brought my mom, Abby and Lucy for a visit.
I think you can tell we all missed each other. My favorite picture ever. Thanks, Mom for capturing this moment. Thanks, Kellye for driving them to us. (Look at poor Rob - I think he was more tired than me at this point)
We visited as long as they could as it was a school night. Abby was thrilled to share my dinner (magically, I had ordered all of her favorite things - what luck!)
Overnight, I was hooked up to a machine that recorded my Oxygen levels as I slept. I heard the tech come in around 2 and turn the Oxygen back on. I thought I might never get out of there.
Day 9 - I was awoken bright and early by Lung Specialists who told me that I failed all of my tests during the previous day. But there was a chance I could be released if they were assured that I would wear Oxygen at home. I assured the doctor I would cooperate and be a golden patient and was happy that Rob was the only one who knew about my previous hunger strike.
The lung specialist released me.
The blood pressure doctor released me with a handful of prescriptions.
I was ready to go, as soon as my OB-GYN signed the papers. And no one could get him to answer a page. We sat for hours, staring at the TV. Suddenly, reports started coming in of a mass shooting only blocks away at Western Psychiatric Hospital. Rob got up and shut our door. I have a dear friend who worked there at the time, and I immediately got on Facebook and sent him a message inquiring if he was OK.
The happiest day for me, finally going home to be with my family, and 2 people were dead and 7 more injured just minutes away from us. I thought of how selfish I was, when 2 sets of parents wouldn't see their children again.
My OB finally showed up. He said "You know what - you told me 8 months ago that you didn't do pregnancy well. I should have believed you." I was released.
The oxygen was on order and being delivered and installed at our house before we got there.
We grabbed our bags, our frozen breast milk collection and headed home to our kids.
I was on oxygen for another month at home.
No one has ever been able to explain why I got the pulmonary edema.
And yes, our baby making days are over.
Feb 29th, 2012 -March 8th, 2012 or How it took me 9 months to have a baby, then 9 days to get home
Thanks for reading.
Sarah
The ICU doctor finally gave us a diagnosis around dinnertime on Day 5: pulmonary edema. Pulmonary edema happens when your lungs fill with fluid. The doctors did not know why this was happening to me, but they knew how to treat it.
The doctors kept me on a continuous stream of oxygen and made me continue to wear the bipap machine at night. They also continued Lasix in my IV. The Lasix and bipap machine were meant to help push the liquid out of my lungs and replace it with fresh oxygen. It was working. I had to pee every hour or so. Since my fainting incident, I was forced to use a bed pan so I had to call a nurse's aide every hour to put me on and then help me off the bed pan, 5 minutes later.
At one point, Rob was walking downstairs to get something to eat and overheard the aide complaining about all the calls from Room 22. He didn't say anything, he just walked past the nurse's station and went downstairs. When he returned, he was really angry and planned on yelling at the aide. We never saw her again. It was pretty early in her shift and we assumed they saw Rob and moved her to a different ward. How lucky for her.
Early in the afternoon of Day 7, I was transferred out of ICU and back onto the 2700 wing. It was all business without the baby there...breathing treatments, blood pressure checks, plus the added excitement of having to measure ALL fluids going IN and OUT of my body. I had to record every ounce of liquid I drank and had to record every ounce leaving my body, whether through breast milk or peeing. I took my "Whizz Chart" very seriously. I have a degree in Chemistry, I knew I needed data to prove that more liquid was coming out of my body than was going in.
Throughout my entire hospital stay, I pumped breast milk and the nurses froze it for us. Every three hours, Rob would dutifully walk it down to the Nurse's station and have them put it with our other frozen milk. Each tube had a bar code on it that said "Baby Girl Yurga". I was determined that Lucy would get that milk. I was relentless. I pumped night and day.
Day 7 (post-op - Day 8 overall) was a long day. I thought I would be discharged for sure but learned very early in the day that I was not leaving for what might be a few more days. I was distraught. I cried. I pouted. I slept as much as I could. I answered questions with one word sentences. I refused to eat. (I am cheap to the core, so I ordered meals, but let Rob eat them). I was miserable and determined to make everyone around me miserable until they sent me home to my kids. I was a world class asshole.
I was such an asshole that I drove my husband to tears and he took the cell phone and called my friend, my mom and his sister and told them that we needed visitors. I was so depressed I couldn't even think straight - I was just torturing this man who had slept on a couch by my side for 8 days. His sister arrived first, happy to blow off work early and happier to yell at me to knock off my shit and start eating. I ended my hunger strike after about 14 hours and ate a late lunch with Rob and his sister.
I had an exercise Oxygen test, where I had to walk the halls at a very slow pace, without oxygen on and a tech followed me and wrote down my oxygen levels as I slowly walked the halls. I was triumphant when we made the complete circle that I had done it without oxygen, until the tech informed me he had turned it on about 5 minutes in because my numbers dropped severely. Not good news, but the tech informed me that some talk was going around that I might be eventually released with an oxygen tank.
Later that evening, our friend Kelly brought my mom, Abby and Lucy for a visit.
I think you can tell we all missed each other. My favorite picture ever. Thanks, Mom for capturing this moment. Thanks, Kellye for driving them to us. (Look at poor Rob - I think he was more tired than me at this point)
We visited as long as they could as it was a school night. Abby was thrilled to share my dinner (magically, I had ordered all of her favorite things - what luck!)
Overnight, I was hooked up to a machine that recorded my Oxygen levels as I slept. I heard the tech come in around 2 and turn the Oxygen back on. I thought I might never get out of there.
Day 9 - I was awoken bright and early by Lung Specialists who told me that I failed all of my tests during the previous day. But there was a chance I could be released if they were assured that I would wear Oxygen at home. I assured the doctor I would cooperate and be a golden patient and was happy that Rob was the only one who knew about my previous hunger strike.
The lung specialist released me.
The blood pressure doctor released me with a handful of prescriptions.
I was ready to go, as soon as my OB-GYN signed the papers. And no one could get him to answer a page. We sat for hours, staring at the TV. Suddenly, reports started coming in of a mass shooting only blocks away at Western Psychiatric Hospital. Rob got up and shut our door. I have a dear friend who worked there at the time, and I immediately got on Facebook and sent him a message inquiring if he was OK.
The happiest day for me, finally going home to be with my family, and 2 people were dead and 7 more injured just minutes away from us. I thought of how selfish I was, when 2 sets of parents wouldn't see their children again.
My OB finally showed up. He said "You know what - you told me 8 months ago that you didn't do pregnancy well. I should have believed you." I was released.
The oxygen was on order and being delivered and installed at our house before we got there.
We grabbed our bags, our frozen breast milk collection and headed home to our kids.
I was on oxygen for another month at home.
No one has ever been able to explain why I got the pulmonary edema.
And yes, our baby making days are over.
Feb 29th, 2012 -March 8th, 2012 or How it took me 9 months to have a baby, then 9 days to get home
Thanks for reading.
Sarah
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Blizzards of '93 and '13
Today we got 9 inches of snow between midnight and 11 a.m.
And a good deal of it melted before 7 pm. Weirdest weather day I can remember.
School was cancelled, Rob took a vacation day and I was reminded of the Blizzard of '93, when I was a sophomore in college.
A day before the storm hit, which had been predicted for days, my roommate, hereinafter referred to as "Schmo Denardo", (google Joe Denardo if you aren't from Pittsburgh) told my brother and his friend that it "wasn't really going to snow" and they should come visit as was previously planned before the storm was announced. Truth be known, Schmo Denardo was interested in my brother's friend, and weather reports be damned, she wanted him to visit. So the boys drove up to visit in our friend's Jaguar. Not exactly a weather safe vehicle, but whatever. They arrived on Friday and so did the snow. Over 2 feet of it over the next two days. My brother and his friend were stuck in my room for 5 days. Schmo Denardo did not make a love connection with our family friend so she was just "thrilled" that they extended their stay.
On day 4, my roommate, my brother, his friend and my other two best friends all got sick. On day 6 the boys started to feel better and I sent them home, before I killed them (I had started forming a plan). My mother protested them driving home "so soon" but I informed her that it was far more dangerous for them to stay with me than it would be on the roads in a sports car.
Suffice it to say that I am not moving to Alaska anytime soon, and if I do, there will be limited visits from my brother.
During the days after the Blizzard, my friends and I:
* stole cafeteria trays to attack the fresh snow and sled-ride
* called Route 30 beer to see if they were open (they were - and someone got there for a GIANT order)
* called the college operator every 15 minutes to see if classes were cancelled yet for the next day
* I trudged across campus to the cafeteria to get gallons of soup for my sick roommates and friends
This year, my family:
* attacked a pile of laundry
* took turns watching Bubble Guppies and Supernatural (Rob and millions of teenage girls love that show)
* considered taking the kids outside, thought about Lucy's perpetual runny nose and resisted the urge
* I made soup (far better than the cafeterias)
20 years later, I still know how to party.
I would certainly roll around on the floor and laugh at that last statement, but I'd likely land on a giant lego.
Stay warm people, spring has to coming soon....right?
And a good deal of it melted before 7 pm. Weirdest weather day I can remember.
School was cancelled, Rob took a vacation day and I was reminded of the Blizzard of '93, when I was a sophomore in college.
A day before the storm hit, which had been predicted for days, my roommate, hereinafter referred to as "Schmo Denardo", (google Joe Denardo if you aren't from Pittsburgh) told my brother and his friend that it "wasn't really going to snow" and they should come visit as was previously planned before the storm was announced. Truth be known, Schmo Denardo was interested in my brother's friend, and weather reports be damned, she wanted him to visit. So the boys drove up to visit in our friend's Jaguar. Not exactly a weather safe vehicle, but whatever. They arrived on Friday and so did the snow. Over 2 feet of it over the next two days. My brother and his friend were stuck in my room for 5 days. Schmo Denardo did not make a love connection with our family friend so she was just "thrilled" that they extended their stay.
On day 4, my roommate, my brother, his friend and my other two best friends all got sick. On day 6 the boys started to feel better and I sent them home, before I killed them (I had started forming a plan). My mother protested them driving home "so soon" but I informed her that it was far more dangerous for them to stay with me than it would be on the roads in a sports car.
Suffice it to say that I am not moving to Alaska anytime soon, and if I do, there will be limited visits from my brother.
During the days after the Blizzard, my friends and I:
* stole cafeteria trays to attack the fresh snow and sled-ride
* called Route 30 beer to see if they were open (they were - and someone got there for a GIANT order)
* called the college operator every 15 minutes to see if classes were cancelled yet for the next day
* I trudged across campus to the cafeteria to get gallons of soup for my sick roommates and friends
This year, my family:
* attacked a pile of laundry
* took turns watching Bubble Guppies and Supernatural (Rob and millions of teenage girls love that show)
* considered taking the kids outside, thought about Lucy's perpetual runny nose and resisted the urge
* I made soup (far better than the cafeterias)
20 years later, I still know how to party.
I would certainly roll around on the floor and laugh at that last statement, but I'd likely land on a giant lego.
Stay warm people, spring has to coming soon....right?
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Lucy's birth part 3 - $hit gets wierd
Days 1 through 3 after my c-section were baby business as usual. We had many visitors, I was having my blood pressure checked every 45 minutes or so, Lucy was passing all her tests with flying colors. I, however, was still receiving 4 breathing treatments a day for shortness of breath. While Rob was at home for an evening visiting with Abby, a resident doctor who was concerned with my breathing
ordered a chest x-ray to see what exactly was going on in my respiratory
system. I was wheeled to the x-ray
department and film was taken of my chest and lungs. Test results were inconclusive.
Rob and Abby enjoyed
their time together at home, especially since they ate out at restaurants for
the two meals they were together. They
came to the hospital to visit Lucy and I around lunchtime. We enjoyed our visit as a family, but something very strange interesting happened around dinner time when Rob fell asleep. Abby, Lucy and I were “alone” for the first
time, with Dad being in Dream Land and Abby got out of the chair she was
sitting on, came over to the bed and began to ask me lots of questions about
parenting, taking care of babies and Lucy in general. I explained how to change a diaper, how to
hold a bottle and what exactly an umbilical cord was. The umbilical stump and it’s “grossness” will
become an obsession of Abby’s until it falls off 10 days later, and she
announces that Abby’s extension cord has fallen off. In the moment, I realized that Abby had been
waiting for the three of us to be alone so she could ask questions about her
new baby sister. Abby then made me watch the hospital video about Shaken Baby Syndrome quite literally 20 times. It was quite a special
time for me and my girls that I enjoyed tremendously. Rob wakes up and takes Abby home for her
Saturday night sleepover in Grandma’s room.
Throughout the week, nurses and doctors had been listening
to my lungs and discussing how my breathing was still diminished. Many theories were thrown around, most
involving the warm winter we had and the fact that spring pollen was early and
severe, even in the first week of March.
The pediatrician came in to the room first thing in the morning of Day 4 and told us
that Lucy was ok to be discharged in her opinion. She filed the paperwork at the nurses’
station and Lucy was ready to be discharged with her momma that day (Sunday). The nurses came in and began to review
paperwork with me about mine and Lucy’s at home care. I received discharge packets full of
information and a parking pass so that we could leave the hospital free of
charge that day. Around noon, a resident
doctor came in the room and said I would NOT be discharged that day due to the
fact that my breathing was still labored.
Lucy was already discharged, but she was able to stay with me in my
room, but the nurses could not tend to her in the nursery or in our room when
she needed a diaper change or other assistance.
My chest x-ray was inconclusive and they were unsure why I was still
breathing heavy, despite the fact that I had been receiving albuterol breathing
treatments the entire time I was in the hospital. The doctor then ordered an EKG to see if
there was an issue with my heart. This
theory scared Rob and I the most, due to the fact that he lost his mother to an
enlarged heart when he was in his mid- twenties. A woman came into our room and hooked me up
to numerous monitors. I was very happy
when the resident returned to my room quickly to tell us that my heart tested normal, but that may have been the scariest 20 minutes of my life while we waited.
The next course of action was a circular cat scan, and this
time they were looking for a blood clot in my lungs. At this point, there were three things that
would make me hyperventilate: lying flat
on my back, talking a lot and walking to the bathroom. As it happened, I had to do all three in a
matter of 30 minutes and things went bad at that point. I was again wheeled to the cat scan
department and the technician told me that I would have to lay flat on my back
and hold my breath while photos were taken of my lungs. The tech injected dye into my arm, which as
promised, made me extremely hot. He
asked me lots of questions about how I was feeling during the moments where I
was allowed to breathe during the test.
After I returned to the room, I immediately went into the bathroom. The combination of lying flat, talking and
walking to the bathroom, none of which should make you remotely out of breath,
made me start to hyperventilate profusely.
The resident came in with the results of the cat scan, which showed no
blood clots.
It was at this point that all hell began to break loose. My breathing was heavy and I was beginning to panic because I had no answers. A pulmonary specialist was consulted while
the team encouraged me to slow my breathing and breathe as deep as I possibly
could. When I was unable to do this, my
panic became worse. The nurse called an
Intensive Care doctor who quickly informed me that he was immediately
transferring me to the ICU. In my manic
hysteria, I told him I would not go without Lucy and Rob being able to stay
with me. He looked at me like I was
ridiculous, and I now see that I was, in fact, being ridiculous. Two nurses said “Room 22!” Room 22 is a Labor and Delivery room that is
considered a part of the ICU, but allows room for the spouse and child to stay
when necessary. At this point, I was
crying hysterically and the nurses went into immediate action to move me to a
gurney and start my trek to ICU. The
nurses asked me to do a “crab walk” and scoot across the bed onto the gurney,
which was incredibly painful.
I yelled
at Rob to gather all of our things as quickly and carefully as possible. Rob knows that we check out of a hotel, I
check the floor, under the beds, in every drawer multiple times so he had some
double checking to do.
The nurses
started running me down the hall on the gurney, and I was sitting up so I would
not lose my breath any further. Because
we were moving so fast, I got quite a breeze going down the hall. The short trip to ICU was eventful, as the nurse
driving the gurney from the back smashed the nurse in the front into the wall twice and we
got stuck in the hall trying to get around an abandoned bed in the hall.
When we arrived at Room 22, the ICU nurses
were preparing the room, which did not have a bed in it at that time. My old
nurses grabbed the abandoned bed from the hall and they prepared it for
me. A large team of doctors and nurses began to
work on me in the ICU. I was sweating
and they got a fan and placed it on high and pointed it directly on me from
about 6 inches beyond the foot of the bed.
The ICU doctor began to order medicine to be injected into my IV,
beginning with Adivan for my panic attack and subsequent crying and hysterical
behavior. I watched the nurse write
about 5 more medicine orders on the dry erase board. The Adivan began to work quickly, and I could feel a
sense of peace come over me. This was also aided by the fact that my old nurses from the 2700 wing brought Rob in to hold
my hand, while they watched Lucy in the nursery. Rob looked panicked, which is not something I
am very used to. He is the rock and I am
the loose cannon usually.
A respiratory
therapist started a Bi-pap machine for me and put it on my face. It was blowing oxygen very fast and my head
flew back when he held it in front of me.
A nurse held my head while he strapped the mask on my face. I was still hyperventilating and unable to
understand exactly how this mask was going to help. I was also trying to convey to the respiratory therapist that I was sorry for snapping at him earlier when I was frustrated about my discharge getting cancelled. The oxygen blew my mouth open like a giant
circle and my cheeks were flapping with the cycling of the machine. I was unable to talk with the bi-pap machine
and that was extremely frustrating.
Eventually, Lucy was discharged and Rob left me to get her, the
bassinette and all of our gear. Rob took
care of Lucy through the night and I attempted to sleep, unsuccessfully for
most of the night. I was being
given Lasix through the IV and that was making me have to pee quite
frequently. As I did not have a catheter
and was not allowed to get out of bed, I had to use the bed pan to urinate....every hour or so.
I was so happy in the morning when they took the bi-pap machine off of my face. Rob noticed that I was much happier than the previous day and he joked with me about my "sex doll mouth" all night long from the breathing machine. To be honest, my cheeks hurt from the machine being turned up so high and my mouth was extremely dry due to the Lasix and the oxygen.
A breath of fresh air, no pun intended, soon came into our room. The ICU morning nurse was a joy. A joy whose name I cannot remember but I'd recognize her on the street and squeeze her with a hug if I ever saw her. She gave me a sponge bath (my first since entering the hospital 5 days earlier) and helped me powder my body. I was starting to feel like a human again. I was able to get out of bed and sit in a chair for a while. I felt great. My blood pressure was starting to regulate and they were trying different doses of medicine to find the perfect fit.
Around noon, I was allowed to walk to the bathroom to pee. While I was flushing and walking to wash my hands, a familiar feeling came over me. I was dizzy and was starting to have an out of body experience. I was going to faint. I quickly washed my hands, even though I was sure I was going to faint (I can't explain that one at all!) and stumbled out of the room and landed on the chair as I collapsed.
When I woke up several minutes later, there were 4 doctors, several nurses and Rob holding Lucy all trying to revive me by calling my name. The doctors told me that I had "vageled", which is something people do when they have a bowel movement and their blood pressure is off. The straining can make you faint. Apparently, I pee really hard. I'm sure you are jealous that I have that skill. Only me. They switched my blood pressure medicine and told me it shouldn't be an issue any further.
After they got me back into bed, Rob told me he was taking Lucy home to stay with my mother and Abby. I objected, I cried, I begged him not to take her away from me. He told me that he was holding her when I fainted and he didn't want to be in the position again where he couldn't try to catch me because he was holding her. I consented.
Rob called my mother, who had received the good news phone call that I was feeling better and knew nothing about the fainting. She was now going to be in charge of Abby and Lucy as Rob would be returning to me as soon as possible. Rob got my brother to meet him halfway between the hospital and home and Pat delivered Lucy to my mom and Abby. I knew my mom was up to the task, and she had Abby's help, who after all had seen the "Don't shake your baby" video 20 times! I was glad the baby would keep them busy so they wouldn't worry as much about me.
This is how she looked when Pat dropped her off. Pat blamed the crooked hat on Rob.
And now, my struggle to get home to my children doubles.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Need ink
I have 1 tattoo, but I want another.
I really loved how my dad LITERALLY called me "Stupid" for a whole month last time. The entire month. That was super fun.
I finally figured out what I want, just not sure where I want it.
I want to get the iconic Abbey Road cover with the people crossing the street, but instead of the Beatles, I want myself, Rob and the girls.
Now to talk Rob into getting on board....he says I don't need any more tattoos - that I'm perfect already. (Go ahead and say "Aaawwwwwwww.") I'm pretty sure if tattoos were free, he wouldn't give a crap though.
Happy Birthday, Lucy - you bring much joy, laughter and love into our family!
I really loved how my dad LITERALLY called me "Stupid" for a whole month last time. The entire month. That was super fun.
I finally figured out what I want, just not sure where I want it.
I want to get the iconic Abbey Road cover with the people crossing the street, but instead of the Beatles, I want myself, Rob and the girls.
Now to talk Rob into getting on board....he says I don't need any more tattoos - that I'm perfect already. (Go ahead and say "Aaawwwwwwww.") I'm pretty sure if tattoos were free, he wouldn't give a crap though.
Happy Birthday, Lucy - you bring much joy, laughter and love into our family!
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Lucy is born...part 2
(Catch up on Part 1 of Lucy is born, if you are interested)
Eventually, I was wheeled on a bed down the hall to the operating room. Rob was sent to another room, to dress in a paper gown, hat and booties for the operating room. The room was incredibly bright, and full of people wearing face masks. I found myself staring at their eyes, trying to keep everyone straight just from their eyes (unsuccessfully).
It was now time to get my spinal block, one of the things that scared me the most. When I had Abby, my epidural wasn't perfect and I could feel them cutting me during my c-section. Seriously. Then kicked my mother out of the room and knocked me out to get Abby here. So you can understand why I might be apprehensive about the pain management part of this whole "baby delivering thing".
I sat on the table, Indian style (or “criss-cross applesauce”, as Abby would say) and the anesthesiologist pressed on my lower back, looking for the correct spot. At this point, I was still occasionally coughing, in particular after I had been lying flat on my back. I was instructed to hug a pillow, stay as still as possible and try like hell not to cough. As the needle entered my back, I began to cry and someone in the room came and held my shoulders down, so my sobbing would not cause me to get injured. It was so comforting at a time when Rob was not with me. My eyes were closed and I do not know who it was, but I am very grateful to them for that gesture. I still cry just thinking about that feeling, a year later.
Happy (Almost) Birthday to my Leap Day Baby!
A day or two later, all hell breaks loose - I'll fill you in on what exactly happened soon.
Eventually, I was wheeled on a bed down the hall to the operating room. Rob was sent to another room, to dress in a paper gown, hat and booties for the operating room. The room was incredibly bright, and full of people wearing face masks. I found myself staring at their eyes, trying to keep everyone straight just from their eyes (unsuccessfully).
It was now time to get my spinal block, one of the things that scared me the most. When I had Abby, my epidural wasn't perfect and I could feel them cutting me during my c-section. Seriously. Then kicked my mother out of the room and knocked me out to get Abby here. So you can understand why I might be apprehensive about the pain management part of this whole "baby delivering thing".
I sat on the table, Indian style (or “criss-cross applesauce”, as Abby would say) and the anesthesiologist pressed on my lower back, looking for the correct spot. At this point, I was still occasionally coughing, in particular after I had been lying flat on my back. I was instructed to hug a pillow, stay as still as possible and try like hell not to cough. As the needle entered my back, I began to cry and someone in the room came and held my shoulders down, so my sobbing would not cause me to get injured. It was so comforting at a time when Rob was not with me. My eyes were closed and I do not know who it was, but I am very grateful to them for that gesture. I still cry just thinking about that feeling, a year later.
The anesthesiologist announced that they “had it” and I was instructed to quickly scoot down the table before my body became numb. After I was lying down, I immediately felt the “pins and needles” that I was promised and soon became numb from the chest down. My arms were placed on a board straight out to my sides and soon, Rob came into the operating room, minus the booties which didn’t even begin to fit. (Guess Size 15 shoes are not included in the "One Size Fits All booties")
A curtain was raised in front of our faces so that we could not see the action, something which pleased us both very much. The operation began. I tried to listen to their talking, but my nerves, coupled with the numerous people in the room, prevented me from getting any details.
At this point, a new person entered the room, the chief anesthesiologist, who likes to check up on his employees just to be sure everything is going well. I looked into his eyes and his thick, salt and pepper eyebrows and despite the fact that what I could see of him looked like Eugene Levy, I trusted him and was comforted by him. A few minutes into the surgery, Eugene Levy told me that I would feel some pushing very high on my belly and that the baby would be born at that time. I felt the hand at the top of my “baby bump” and as it slid down my stomach, Eugene Levy pulled the curtain down slightly to discuss something with an intern, but lucky for all of us, Rob couldn’t see anything. (Can you imagine? "Man DOWN! Very tall man DOWN!")
At last it was 7:23 p.m. and Dr. Bummer made the official announcement…”It’s a girl, and she’s peeing on me.” A few seconds later, a small, bloody (and pimply) face peeked over the curtain.
It was the first time I saw my daughter.
She opened her mouth and a blob of yellow something-or-other fell onto me. Alive for 20 seconds, she had already peed and spit on two people. What a charmer.
They carried her over to the corner, cleaned her and measured her. 20 1/2 inches and 7 pounds, 11 ounces. They swaddled her and handed her to Rob. A pediatrician told us that the white pimples on her face were quite common and would go away very soon. Dr. Bummer completed the surgery, additionally tying my tubes and stitching up my incision. Soon, Rob was asked to leave me again, and honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe to change out of his surgical garb?
The nurses set to moving me off the surgical table and onto a gurney, to move to my recovery room. A shorter, female nurse stood to my left and several of the nurses began to tilt me to the left. I immediately panicked and grabbed at the nurse, apparently grabbing both of her breasts in the process, afraid that I was falling off the table. The crowd in the room and in particular, the nurse whose chest I molested, laughed out loud. There was one male nurse in the room and I made a joke asking him why he wasn’t standing to my left, if I had to grab out at someone. It took some time, and a great deal of pain, but I got onto that gurney and they placed Lucy in my arms and I set off for my new room.
A curtain was raised in front of our faces so that we could not see the action, something which pleased us both very much. The operation began. I tried to listen to their talking, but my nerves, coupled with the numerous people in the room, prevented me from getting any details.
At this point, a new person entered the room, the chief anesthesiologist, who likes to check up on his employees just to be sure everything is going well. I looked into his eyes and his thick, salt and pepper eyebrows and despite the fact that what I could see of him looked like Eugene Levy, I trusted him and was comforted by him. A few minutes into the surgery, Eugene Levy told me that I would feel some pushing very high on my belly and that the baby would be born at that time. I felt the hand at the top of my “baby bump” and as it slid down my stomach, Eugene Levy pulled the curtain down slightly to discuss something with an intern, but lucky for all of us, Rob couldn’t see anything. (Can you imagine? "Man DOWN! Very tall man DOWN!")
At last it was 7:23 p.m. and Dr. Bummer made the official announcement…”It’s a girl, and she’s peeing on me.” A few seconds later, a small, bloody (and pimply) face peeked over the curtain.
It was the first time I saw my daughter.
She opened her mouth and a blob of yellow something-or-other fell onto me. Alive for 20 seconds, she had already peed and spit on two people. What a charmer.
They carried her over to the corner, cleaned her and measured her. 20 1/2 inches and 7 pounds, 11 ounces. They swaddled her and handed her to Rob. A pediatrician told us that the white pimples on her face were quite common and would go away very soon. Dr. Bummer completed the surgery, additionally tying my tubes and stitching up my incision. Soon, Rob was asked to leave me again, and honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe to change out of his surgical garb?
The nurses set to moving me off the surgical table and onto a gurney, to move to my recovery room. A shorter, female nurse stood to my left and several of the nurses began to tilt me to the left. I immediately panicked and grabbed at the nurse, apparently grabbing both of her breasts in the process, afraid that I was falling off the table. The crowd in the room and in particular, the nurse whose chest I molested, laughed out loud. There was one male nurse in the room and I made a joke asking him why he wasn’t standing to my left, if I had to grab out at someone. It took some time, and a great deal of pain, but I got onto that gurney and they placed Lucy in my arms and I set off for my new room.
I soon learned that Luanne would be the nurse in charge of my post-operative care in Labor and Delivery Room # 2. During the next two hours, I held Lucy, tried to breast feed her (unsuccessfully), had my blood pressure taken repeatedly and waited for my family to visit.
I should have left the L&D room after my 2 hours of recovery, but there were no available rooms on the 2700 wing, where all mothers who had pre-eclampsia (high blood pressure) go after delivery and recovery. Rob was pleased to hear this, as he had already noted during our previous hospital tour that the couches in L&D were much nicer and longer than those in the post-delivery wards. The big man is observant, when viewing what tiny couch he will be expected to curl up on.
I was given ice chips, which were incredibly delicious. I gobbled them up with a spoon as fast as I could. Rob ordered his first (of many) guest trays from Room Service, filling his empty belly with meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Soon, the door opened and in came my mother, Abby, my step-daughter Amber, brother Patrick and his girlfriend, Mandy.
We took photos, took turns holding Lucy, updated our Facebook pages to announce her birth and celebrated Lucy’s good health. It soon became midnight, and Amber had school the next day (Abby finally conceded to taking the day off) so our visitors kissed us goodbye and headed home.
Despite the fact that the nurses took Lucy to the nursery for a work up and to sleep, I stayed awake all night long. Rob fell asleep on the couch but I watched the television all night long. I don’t remember what I watched. Of course, the blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm every 15 minutes was not conducive to sleep, as well as the fact that my incision was painful. One of the nurses told me that a lot of moms are unable to sleep, with the adrenaline and excitement about their new babies. I should have left the L&D room after my 2 hours of recovery, but there were no available rooms on the 2700 wing, where all mothers who had pre-eclampsia (high blood pressure) go after delivery and recovery. Rob was pleased to hear this, as he had already noted during our previous hospital tour that the couches in L&D were much nicer and longer than those in the post-delivery wards. The big man is observant, when viewing what tiny couch he will be expected to curl up on.
I was given ice chips, which were incredibly delicious. I gobbled them up with a spoon as fast as I could. Rob ordered his first (of many) guest trays from Room Service, filling his empty belly with meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Soon, the door opened and in came my mother, Abby, my step-daughter Amber, brother Patrick and his girlfriend, Mandy.
We took photos, took turns holding Lucy, updated our Facebook pages to announce her birth and celebrated Lucy’s good health. It soon became midnight, and Amber had school the next day (Abby finally conceded to taking the day off) so our visitors kissed us goodbye and headed home.
Happy (Almost) Birthday to my Leap Day Baby!
A day or two later, all hell breaks loose - I'll fill you in on what exactly happened soon.
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