Weekend News

It was a weekend of many things.

A brand new experience. I walked into a brand new door, not knowing one soul and felt sixteen again.

Then I blinked and realized I was the oldest person in the room. But at that moment, I think I felt like the youngest.

"This is what I need to do" I thought to myself. I need to scare myself silly and do hard things. This is the way to stay young!

Then I walked out the door and thought "I am not really inspired enough to return ..."

I woke up the next morning and had a stomach flu that came out of absolutely nowhere.

The only person I know, who has been sick lives 500 km away and I just talked with her on the phone for a few minutes the day prior.

Darn phone lines! Who knew you could catch a flu over the phone?!

I suppose feeling badly gave me the excuse I needed to sleep for a day. That is what I did. Then I slept the entire night following. And it was good.

Which gave me one day to do all I had planned to do all weekend. And surprise of all surprises, I did what I set out to do.

Income taxes for "four" are all done, except for the final once-over before I call the job complete.

I washed the living room blinds and windows. I washed the screen door windows. I washed the outside of the kitchen window.

Then I cleaned under the fridge, to complete the survey of how many cat food pellets my Super Cat, Wayne Gretzky scored under the fridge. Final tally? Stove - 19; Fridge - 6. The stove wins. Yay!!

This was followed by a quick grocery run and picking up supper to finish off the night.

Groceries were easy. Supper? I should have cooked.

I now a souvenir from A & W. When I read the sign they did not have French fries, nor did it appear that they were taking take-out orders via their intercom, with signage posted all over it, I backed out of the drive thru. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

C-R-U-N-C-H!! 

It sounded awful. I couldn't look. But I could drive.

I drove home and tentatively took a step out of the drive's door to see how much damage I had done. Amazingly enough, nothing appears to be bent. I do have a fair little bit of bright orange paint on the driver's front fender though.

Full of relief, I came inside, unloaded and unpacked the groceries and heroically set off to hunt down some supper despite my first near catastrophe.

I survived the weekend. And so did our car. I did very little, then I did quite a lot. I guess that equals success on some level.

Why do I not feel ready for a Monday then?

One Step Forward, Ten Steps Back

I have no idea where this day is going to go but if it continues to go the way it has, since I woke up this morning, I think I may end up in yesterday.

Did you ever have one of those days where you think you'll get up with the alarm so you can do those "impossible things" before your workday officially begins?

Me too!

Today was the day I was going to those hard things before my daycare day walked in the door. I was going to wash sheets, send off my columns, troubleshoot the Leap Pad and be ready for my day before 7:00.

Spoiler alert. It is now almost 10:00 and I have accomplished only "one of the above".

I went to my Excel spreadsheet where I track all of the columns I have written, sent and I have linked this information to my Word documents so I can quickly click on a link and read the attached article.

I tried that this morning and it sent me off into a Netherland called:  "C:\Users\Colleen\AppData\Roaming\AppData\Roaming\AppData\Roaming\Microsoft\Excel\Yoked.htm"

I tried all of my usual troubleshooting skills and ended up feeling a little ill. Kind of like maybe we (the computer and I) caught a bug.

I googled and eventually I ended up redoing the entire workbook on a brand new Excel file. It took forever but I thought if I didn't do it before the kids arrived, I would not get back to it. So I persevered.

In the meantime, I closed the original spreadsheet. When it asked if I wanted to make changes, I said "No". And I went on my merry way.

I worked and worked and finally finished the job. 

Then I reopened the original file. And it worked just fine! The computer had restarted itself after some updates and my Excel file was saved as a repaired file with this perplexing linkage problem. All I had to do was close out the program without saving and then reopen it.

I wasted a good hour doing something that should have taken only one minute.

Excellent usage of time, wouldn't you say? 

When I tried to reread the articles I wanted to send. My words sound dull, lifeless, worn out and overused. I can't find one thing I've written that feels worthy of sending out into the big, scary world. I am stuck.

So I moved past that and thought I may as well try to figure out what I couldn't fix yesterday, after I bought some new games for our Leap Pads and couldn't "sync" them onto both Leap Pads.

It took two phone calls, several more attempts of "rinse and repeat" after the Leap Pad technician told me how to do what was impossible for me yesterday and while I was on the phone, one of my daycare charges peed all the way to the bathroom within fifteen minutes of just "going".

Aaaack!!! I couldn't even manage to effectively take my children to the bathroom! "I'm all done, Colleen" was her refrain when she supposedly "went" right after breakfast.

Just like my Excel spreadsheet troubles, something that should have been taken care of in one minute took at least twenty minutes of blotting and scrubbing the path of urine out of the carpet. From the middle of the living room, all the way to the bathroom. Perhaps it took a half hour. I don't know. 

I just know I have been spinning my wheels all morning.

But I'm headed to a better place than I was when I started. I have learned several lessons as I sat here and spun my wheels.

All I can think is, "Is it yesterday yet?" I would really like to retry everything I did this morning with all I have learned along the way.

Time to Live Up to My Reputation

I could not have felt more humiliated and sheepish had I been cut down to the ground with accusations and words spoken in anger.

What cut so deep?

A meaningful and heartfelt compliment which I was not worthy of receiving.

All week, I have been honing in on the "source" of my challenges during my daycare days. One little two year old who needs constant monitoring has depleted me.

He hits, pushes, kicks and overpowers the others on an ongoing basis. All day, every day.

I have done absolutely everything I know how to do.

I catch him in the act so he knows exactly what the offending behaviour is. I have timed him out. I have held onto him and not let him join in on the play. I have grabbed the offending hand, foot or whatever limb has connected with another child, held onto it and told him he must be "gentle and kind and caring".

There is a disconnect between what I am communicating and what he hears. He knows he is doing something wrong but he doesn't understand. He is becoming more and more frustrated (as am I).

I have been spinning my wheels and at a loss.

I know I should talk to his mom about his behaviour but yesterday was not the day.

She came home from a tough day at the office feeling absolutely awful. Her little bundle of joy and energy ran up to her and gave her the biggest hug. He then grabbed her face in a loving manner and I didn't really fully understand what transpired between them until she explained.

Every time he is rough with her, she gets down on his level and holds onto his cheeks while looking directly into his eyes and talks to him. It ends up with him lovingly holding onto her cheeks and reciprocating the gesture.

Her method of teaching him is not working any better than mine but at least I know she is aware of his rough and tumble behaviour.

Then (this it the tough part) she just about melted into a puddle on the floor when she told me how grateful she was to have found "me" and my daycare.

She said she has heard horror stories from other moms about their daycare situation and she is over the moon grateful she has "me".

"Me???", with all of my imperfections, who has been bad mouthing her child in my head (and out loud) all week? Me?!!!?

I try. Each and every morning I wake up, ready to face a new day and start with a fresh slate. If that doesn't work, we reboot and restart the day. All day long. After breakfast, we will start anew! If that doesn't work, then after nap time. Or tomorrow.

It is never too late to try again.

That is exactly what I will do. Today, tomorrow, next week and for as long as I am entrusted with these little people.

I'm as stubborn as an ox. I will not be outsmarted by a two year old and perhaps that is exactly why I feel so frustrated. It is a whole new world of children out there and I need a whole new book of tricks to find my way through.

It is time to live up to the reputation I have worked so hard to build.

Am I Too Close to See the Truth?

Is it a good thing when you don't see what is before you because it happens so slowly and gradually?

My Second Son stopped by yesterday afternoon. Senior Cat heard his voice and eventually ambled up the stairs and sat before him.

My son didn't realize what an honor it was, to have attracted Senior's attention and roused him out of his regularly scheduled afternoon napping period.

I was touched by Senior's attempt to be social but my son was aghast.

The last time he saw Senior Cat, he was a little plumper, his hair was a little fluffier and he was a little more limber.

My son made a comment to the effect of me being too close to the situation and not seeing when it is time to let go.

I immediately started defending my decision to keep doing what I can for our ailing kitty.

He is still eating and drinking. He is still socializing with us. He isn't sleeping all of the time.

Granted, he is eating much less and does not weigh much these days.

He doesn't socialize as much as he used to. But he comes up to me at least twice a day and sits at my feet and breathes (loudly), so I can pick him up and snuggle with him for as long as he chooses (this explains the lack of new posts lately, because he tends to appear at my feet in and around the time I am often ready to sit down and write a post).

His hair is still looking shiny and healthy but he has lost the hair around his "wrists" (again) and his tail looks quite gangly (it has looked this way for quite some time).

He moves about very slowly but he can still jump onto and off of the love seat (one of his favorite resting spots).

I watch him ever so closely, for signs of discomfort and cues that his condition has changed. We have Junior Cat to compare and contrast him to. Senior is by no means keeping up with his young partner in cathood, but he appears to be comfortable holding onto his throne as King of the Cats within his domain.

My son left and echoes of his words remained. Am I missing the obvious because I it is happening so gradually?

When is it time to let go?

My heart ached at the thought of Senior's last trip to the vets one day in the foreseeable future.

We have never had a pet with us this long. Senior is fifteen years old and has lived with us since he was about nine months old. He is a huge part of our family dynamic.

I have been afraid of this day for quite some time now. I thought I was worried about my youngest son's reaction to this loss.

But I think it is my own heart that I'm protecting. My little black kitty and I go back a long, long way and he is a huge part of our little family.

I honestly can't imagine the day when we have to take that final drive together.

I'm not ready. He's not ready.

He's still eating! He is still socializing! He curls up into a tiny ball in my arms and licks my face because (I think) he cares for me in equal proportion to how I feel for him.

We aren't ready yet.

But I'm afraid of missing the obvious because I am too close to the situation. I'm not seeing things clearly because I see him each and every day.

Then again, because I do watch and observe and take note of the smallest nuances each and every day, I do believe I will recognize when it is time to let go.

Just not quite yet. I must memorize his purrs. Here he comes now.

The Cat Conspiracy

A recent burst of kitchen-cleaning was spurred on by a little conspiracy Junior and Senior Cat seem to have figured out amongst themselves.

Senior Cat hasn't been interested in his special renal cat food health diet lately. It started in and around the time I started going away a little too regularly. My Youngest Son fed Senior cat treats instead of the soft (renal/health) cat food after giving Senior his pill. Soon thereafter, I noticed Senior didn't really enjoy his soft food any more and he wasn't eating the dry (healthy) food very much either.

One day I caught Senior Cat downstairs sneaking Junior's special gastrointestinal diet cat food (which won't hurt him, it just won't help him either) with a guilty look on his face. Soon thereafter, Senior's hard food started disappearing again so I thought he was nibbling away on it when I wasn't watching so I was pleased.

One morning I heard an enthusiastic game of Cat Food Hockey taking place in the kitchen. Sure enough, Junior had found one of Senior's healthy cat food pellets and was handling it with the grace and finesse of Wayne Gretzky. So I took the "puck" away from him and went back to my business. Then I heard it again. I stopped the game again. And again. And again. And again. And again!

I had to put a bowl over Senior's cat food to stop Junior Cat from sneaking out more "pucks" to play with.

This happened every morning for about four or five days in a row. Throughout this time, I found a few cat food nuggets under the mat at the back door. The mat must have been the "net" and when Junior scored a goal, he would just go back and grab another puck.

Yesterday morning, I thought I'd quickly sweep the kitchen floor and I found six cat food nuggets. I pulled out the drawers where I keep paper, etc in the kitchen and found two more. I fished under the baseboard in the kitchen and found another two. Then I pulled out the stove and found nineteen more!

This is when I figured out there is a Cat Conspiracy going on behind my back.

Not only has Senior Cat been teaching Junior how to snuggle (after 1-1/2 years with us, Junior Cat has finally figured out the fine art of resting atop a human) and being a bigger support to Junior than we ever realized (we took Junior Cat to get his nails clipped without his senior partner in cathood last week and Junior was very stressed without his best black cat-buddy in the cat carrier with him - I think he thought THIS was the time we were going to drop him off somewhere and abandon him), I think these guys have been whispering to each other when we haven't been looking. I can hear it now:

Senior Cat: I can't eat another bite of this Health Food Diet. Junior, will you eat it for me??
Junior Cat: (very enthusiastically) Okay!!
(Junior tries a bite and spits it out in disgust. Then bats it away so he doesn't have to look at it)
Junior Cat: That food is disgusting, but I can brush up my paw-handling skills with these things. Every time I score, you score! They'll think YOU are eating this stuff!

Thus, the game of Cat Food Hockey was born.

The fridge is too full to try and move it today. I'll wait until our milk supply is depleted and then I'll clean under the fridge. If there were nineteen nuggets under the stove, do you care to wager how many will be under the fridge??? I am certain you have time to guess before I get the fridge moved.

Hey!! Do you hear this?!?? I am cleaning under the stove and fridge! Not only have these cats conspired to make me think Senior Cat is eating his healthy cat food, they are tricking me into house cleaning!!!

Ahhh, it all makes sense now. That explains all the throwing up on the carpet. Hmmm. These cats are getting a little too smart for me.

Not only did this Cat Conspiracy move me off the computer chair, it got some nonsensical words flowing again. I'll take it!

Outsmarted by my two black kitties. They not only helped me do some housecleaning, they helped me with my writer's block. 

Looking For Solid Ground Again

I'm waking up empty these days. I believe I'm losing my ability to write so I am just going to let the words free fall this morning and see what happens.

I had an unexpected day off yesterday. And I spent 95% of the day sitting in front of the TV watching Telemiracle.

I have gotten to "know" Jeffery Straker and Andrea Menard up close and personally, thanks to a dear friend who introduced me to the wonderful world of house concerts.

Add that rather impressive line up, to the fact that my great niece, my niece-in-law and her sister sang at the Telemiracle and that was a good enough reason to sit still with the day and just take in the good will, incredible stories and outpouring of love and generosity from the people of Saskatchewan. From 9:00 p.m. Saturday night until 5:00 Sunday morning, $4,312,457 was raised.

Amazing things happen when people dream big, spread the word and ask for a helping hand.

The key is in the dream. If you don't dare to dream, you don't witness the miracles that can happen by stepping out of what is comfortable.

The fire in my heart hasn't died but it certainly needs to be stirred up and needs to be fed some oxygen.

Oxygen. That is key.

Breathe in deeply. Hold it. Exhale slowly.

It's good for your lungs too. But just as importantly, I believe it is good for your brain and quality of life.

Inhale the day today. Dare to chase a small dream. Make a game of chasing a few impossible dreams.

I am talking to myself here. The dream centre of my brain is out of order and I need to fix it. I am not certain where to begin but I thought I'd let my fingers do the talking and see if I can find a road map out of this place I'm in.

The key is in the dream. When I stop dreaming, I lose the essence of who I am. I need to find that part of myself so I can reroute my thoughts and get the heck out of this place I've been visiting lately.

That is life. The ebbs and flows. The highs, the lows. The good, the bad, the sad, the scary.

Why did I emphasize the negative in that last sentence?

I can tell my thoughts are struggling to find the positive. That is not who I am or where I want to be.

I know I need to focus on gratitude. That is the beginning of the road to positivity. Once I'm on that road, only good things can happen. Well bad things can happen too. But one tends to roll with the punches better if you start out on solid ground.

I'm looking for solid ground. I know it is here someplace. And I know it starts with me.

It is a new week. Anything can happen...

A Little Story About Gratitude

Purge first. Ponder later will be the theme of this post.

First off, this post should be all about gratitude. I spent three full days wrapped up in all things family and we are all so relieved and grateful Mom's surgery is behind her.

My spritely 86 year old mom (she will be 87 in four weeks) bounced back from major surgery like a super hero. She has been home a few days now and presently, both of my sisters are with her.

I talked with Mom last night and she sounds as grateful to have company in her home, as she is to have a little assistance as needed until she is feeling a little more independent.

She has surprised and amazed us, each and every step along this journey.

Her motto all along the way has been "Whatever will be, will be".

From the moment she heard the word "cancer" tossed into her arena she outwardly displayed the essence of deciding not to worry about it until she knew what she had to worry about.

How in the world could this be? Mom has been a worrier ever since I have a memory. How could she not be worried?

She quietly mentioned that she would go for surgery if it was an option open to her. And that is exactly what she did.

My sisters and I arrived the eve of Mom's surgery. In retrospect, I can see how worried Mom was that night. I didn't fully comprehend it at the time. She was simply quiet. She didn't have a lot of words or energy to spend on socializing. I don't know for sure, but if I were to guess, I would say she was gathering her strength to get through the next day.

And that is exactly what she did.

Spoiler alert. Grey's Anatomy does not set a good example as to what happens to the family waiting in the wings when a loved one is wheeled off to surgery.

We waited in the waiting room of Mom's permanent home for the duration of her hospital stay. When we asked how we would know when she arrived, we were told "You'll see her come in. They have to wheel her past both waiting areas here."

What!?! I was incredulous. You mean we were supposed to go and peek at those who wheeled by, in case it was our mother?

The first few cases were easy. Wrong hair color. Wrong this or that. Then came this person with only their arm showing, holding their head in a "my head feels funny" kind of way. It didn't look like what I thought Mom's arm looked like, but it was certainly her gesture.

Thankfully, since we had made our presence known, the nurses advised us that it would take about ten minutes to settle Mom in and they came to call us when she was ready.

Mom was very groggy at this point. There was a nurse in the room arranging IV's or something. "Who could tell us about Mom's surgery?" The nurse was not allowed to tell us anything due to rules about confidentiality. She said we would have to talk with the doctor. "He makes his rounds in the morning around 7:00 a.m..."

What?!? Where is the doctor that comes out to the waiting area in his scrubs and advises the family what transpired? What do you mean we have to wait until morning?!!?

"Oh, and the doctor usually comes by to see their patients after all of their surgeries for the day are complete. That will be around 4:00. You can wait to talk to them then if you wish..."

Okay. That makes more sense now. But still! They wheeled Mom off at about 9:00 a.m. and the doctor didn't make his way to Mom's room until close to 5:00. Yes, I know it was a much longer and harder day for the doctor, than it was for us. But it felt like a very, very long wait.

We stopped in to see Mom one more time before we expected the doctor's arrival and she was already 100% better than she was in her groggy state. But the best was yet to come.

By the time we made our way back to Mom's room before the doctor's anticipated arrival time, Mom was in fine form.

She was saying (what seemed to me) all of the things she wanted to say the night prior but didn't have the words for. "You forgot to take those egg cartons home, the last time you were here...".

Once again, not exactly what you would expect to hear on an episode of Grey's Anatomy but what it told us was that Mom was back and firing on all cylinders. And she was grateful and happy we were all with her. And that she was here with us.

It was then, and only then, that I realized just how worried Mom had been about not waking up after her surgery. She didn't say it in words but she screamed it from the rooftop in every other way.

She had us laughing and she entertained us. She was one part medicated, one part relieved and a whole lot grateful.

One nurse came in and found the source of the laughter that must have been ringing down the halls. "So this is where the party is!" she said in a way that didn't make us feel like we were in trouble.

Mom's doctor came in shortly thereafter and the party continued. If only Mom and her doctor could have heard what the other was saying, they would have cracked each other up. Between the doctor's quiet voice, Mom's struggle with hearing and Mom's raspy voice which doesn't project well, we interpreted (most of) the conversation for them. More laughter ensued.

The doctor came bearing news wrapped up in hope and optimism.

They found what appears to be cancer. It seems to be contained within the mass they removed. Visually, it looks like the better kind of cancer to have. He filled us with the hope that the cancer would not return until beyond Mom's life expectancy. Then he gave her the evil eye and said, "But with you, we just may have to relook at that! You will probably live well beyond 100!"

We will find out more when the pathology results come back in two to three weeks. By that time, Mom should be healing well and we anticipate that she will feel better than she has felt in a very long time.

The mass was huge. Larger than a football. We didn't ask what it weighed but I have the feeling it was like carrying around a full term baby, for who knows how many years, at the age of 86 (and 11 months).

The hospital staff were amazing. Mom is a pretty easy patient and quite determined not to be a typical patient in any way. When she went for her first post surgery stroll with one of the nurses, she said "You can walk beside me, but I am not going to hold onto you!"

Mom got her hair colored the week before surgery, even though it was the last thing in the world she felt like doing. She was going to go into this looking her best (even when she was feeling her worst). Sometimes I think these little things boost your spirits in a way that defies logic. Mom was certainly not going to head off into the unknown looking or acting sickly! Sometimes we live up to the way we think and if a trip to the hair salon does it? Go for it!!

It has been a worrisome time.

Even though the doctors at the cancer clinic said and did every single thing absolutely "right" and in a way to alleviate the fear of the unknown road ahead of us, I know I have been carrying around the weight of Mom's worries on my shoulders. I knew I shouldn't worry because worry is a waste of energy. But it was a burden I was glad to carry if I felt like I could do it for Mom.

I know she carried this load very much on her own. She acted "the mom" in every sense of the word, all along the way. She didn't want her children to worry over her. She consoled me more than I consoled her. Because when I tried to say what I thought were the right words, that worried her even more. She was a parent every step of the way.

Even now, she is strong and mighty. In her post surgery haze she asked the doctor, "Will I be thinner now?" And when she was reassured she would be and also that her back pain would have been directly related to this huge mass she had been carrying her instant retort was, "So will I be taller too??"

Yup. That's my mom. Strong and feisty. And something tells me she may be a patient the hospital staff remembers as she set out to defy anyone's expectations.

"Going in one more round when you don't think you can - that's what makes all the difference in your life." ~ Rocky Balboa

[Insert the "Rocky Theme" here. That is my mom.]