Category Archives: Family

Birthdays, Weighty Discussions and New Life

Yesterday was my youngest’s 25th Birthday. It took me 6 months to find the exact gift I wanted for her, but I found it. The “wait” was worth it.

The perfect present for youngest…

Inside the middle magnifying lens are the words “I love you” in 100 different languages.

In other news I have basically spent the last 3.5 days in bed. It started off as a migraine flare which kindly activated the occipital neuralgia and THEN I got a very interesting surprise yesterday morning. My body woke me up for an inexplicable reason about 230am and after tossing, turning, I gave up and read for a bit. And since I was still up at the crack of dawn – Gigi the Incorrigible came and begged for needed bladder relief.

I was stumbling around like a drunk. I got the dogs out and back in, took care of my own bladder needs and went back to bed. About 639 I realized with the dizziness or vertigo, there was no way to work. The slightest movement made me feel very, very weird. Like… really…and it’s been this way most of the day. Dr. A told me to quit taking a new med, but I don’t know if that’s it or not. I’m definitely talking to Dr. MS on Monday to discuss RX and I may have to call the neuro here I’m not a fan of to get a grip on this mess.

On the plus side, the smoothie concoctions I’ve been making in the morning have dramatically helped the IBS. I feel “better” after drinking one and need to check out all the vitamins and nutrition in them that I’m throwing in my body. I’m hoping nothing is actually triggering a Neuralgia/Migraine attack.

On the down side, the smoothies (I hope) don’t have that many calories (or maybe I’m lying to myself.) But I’m at my heaviest weight EVER. I know part of this is a huge lack of activity (hello migraines and neuralgia), but the meds I’m taking literally ALL cause weight gain. I can’t lose a pound to save my life. It’s time to f#^* with my medicines and start over. Detox sounds like so much fun. Not. And because I’m a huge glutton for punishment, I’m starting a new “lifestyle” plan on Monday.

I hope the rest of your weekend is uneventful.

~Celeste~

Heatwave, Health and Puppy Breath

(Thankful for voice recorders that make this post possible.)

All of these things shouldn’t go together, but they do. I should be at work right now – a productive member of society and contributing my fair share to society. I’m actually at home in bed with a migraine and occipital neuralgia attack that is disconcerting and disabling. Therefore I’m not contributing and I’m not being productive. I am thankful; however, and here’s why:

It’s not even noon. The high today is supposed to be around 108°. I’m at home and we do have air-conditioning which I’m eternally thankful for. If I was at work I would have commercial air-conditioning that literally has me taking a jacket to work in the middle of summer. I would really hate to think of what the electric bill looks like just for our building. Heck, I am also looking forward to our upcoming home electric bill with this heatwave. (Not really, but I’m attempting to stay positive.)

Because it is so hot outside the grandchildren are stuck inside playing. However, when one has a migraine with photo/sound sensitivity, it’s a little frustrating when you’re trying to rest. I am grateful that I’m not trying to write this post from the bathroom floor where I spend most of my time when the pain strikes swiftly and suddenly. I got medicine in me just in the nick of time this morning. I am grateful, but still feel like ramming my head into a wall repeatedly.

If nothing else Rory the Conniving has the right idea.

The whole heat wave reminds me of Robin Williams’ movie Good Morning Vietnam.”

  • Lt. Steven Hauk : First of all, don’t make fun of the weather here, and don’t say the weather is the same all the time here. Because it’s not. In fact, it’s two degrees colder today than yesterday.

  • Adrian Cronauer : Two degrees colder, me without my muff.

And as an aside: I miss Robin Williams. He was one of the rare comedic geniuses and few will ever rise to his level in my estimation.

Gigi the Incorrigible also has the right idea today. (But if she lays across my legs much longer, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to walk from the Migraine Cave to the bathroom.) My right leg is mostly asleep and my left is starting to catch up. But I don’t want to move because she’s happily dreaming and…snoring.

One of my favorite things in the world is the smell of puppy breath. She’s no longer a puppy, but for one brief yawn this morning I caught a whiff of the scent. This leads me to two conclusions.

  1. I’m “brushing” her teeth often enough.
  2. She got into something she shouldn’t have.

I’m not sure which.

Anyway, I thought I’d check in and say hi before attempting another nap to soothe the pain which radiates from the right side of my head all the way down my right arm. Calling the doctor on Monday. (Yay.)

May you have an extremely wonderful day…

~Celeste~

They Say It’s Your Birthday…

“There are two great days in a person’s life – the day we are born and the day we discover why.”

~ William Barclay

I don’t feel old enough to have grand children. When I was younger it always seemed like grand-parents were these really “OLD” people and as I’m still in my 40’s I don’t exactly feel old, but I am still totally weirded out about having grand-kids.

The youngest grand-baby turned one a little over a week ago and my youngest daughter is holding the birthday party tomorrow. Because I cannot sit for long periods of time, the 352 mile drive north to see them and spend the weekend with family is impossible. I fervently wish it weren’t. I miss seeing everyone.

Yoda-hubby is; however, going up to see family today and will attend the party. At the moment I’m feeling a more than a bit lonely and a bit depressed. I attempted cleaning house to take my mind off things. No go. And listening to 90’s alternative music really isn’t helping matters. When you are down, Nirvana might not actually be the best choice, but then… I get Foo Fighters “Everlong.” I’m more than pleased, but it really is an odd auto-segue  because Dave Grohl was Nirvana’s drummer. **Mind blown**

Now, let me get to the particular reason for this post. I hate the birthday song. No. That’s not a strong enough word. I despise the birthday song with a passion that mere mortal men cannot truly comprehend. You know the one… “Happy Birthday to you…blah, blah, blah freaking blah.”  This song is old. Really old. It dates back to the late 1800’s and appeared in print in about 1912. It’s been translated into so many different languages and (unfortunately) it’s the most recognized song in the world.

When I go to restaurants, I actually feel nauseous when I hear it. It makes me angry. And fortunately my family knows better than to have a bunch of strange people sing this freaking song to me in a restaurant – ever. I would seriously walk out in the middle of it because I not only hate the song, but I hate the forced singing by people who don’t even know me.  God help me if I someday end up in a nursing home and have to listen to this mindless musical drivel on a regular basis.

I actually have adopted my own birthday song, “Birthday” by the Beatles. (It’s on their 1968 “white album.” Great stuff on that album by the way.)  “Birthday” is a thunderous symphony of sound and motion. It’s a song that makes me say, “Hell, yes! It’s my birthday.” (And this is the song I would undoubtedly crank in the nursing home to ward off others more than anything else.)

So with all this said  for her first birthday (as it were)… Stella, this one is for you.

 Beatles – “Birthday”

 

The Perfect Night’s Sleep

To Sleep
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
      Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light,
      Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
      In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
Or wait the “Amen,” ere thy poppy throws
      Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,—
      Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
      Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.

I have to admit I have been on a massively long creative hiatus. I have been sick with a few neurological disorders and frankly, I have been feeling sorry for myself for quite a while. However, a pity-party of one can only last so long. So here I am once again trying to start life anew.

My husband unit, who I affectionally call Yoda, received a king size mattress set from some sweet and generous people at work. We have two queen size beds in our little apartment so right now, as there is no king-sized bed frame, the majority of the living room floor is filled with a king size mattress.(The box springs are standing on end “out of the way” in the rarely used dining room.)  The actual reason for this was we wanted to try it out and see if we were going to really like it despite the fact the bed I sleep in has mattresses going on 20 years old and there is some serious divoting in the bed. Seriously, there is a huge mountain in the middle and the rest looks like a truck has driven repeatedly down a muddy alleyway in springtime.

Despite the lack of room to walk or play with the dogs, there is something supremely gratifying about comfortably laying down in the living room and watching a movie or playing the X-Box. (Yes, I’m a nerd. Get over it.) I’m actually considering getting a day bed with a trundle for the living room. (Which would also help when family comes to visit.)  We shall see how that goes.

The bed will contribute to a much better night’s sleep. However, I have no cure yet for the people who live in the apartment to our north. I want to shoot them every weekday morning about 6am when there is a crap-ton of yelling and screaming at the kids to get up, get ready for school and all that jazz. I may actually have to stumble out of bed and go over there in my jammies one of these mornings and give them a small piece of what’s left of my mind. Five days a week, I pray for uninterrupted sleep. It doesn’t happen. I think I will have to break out the ear-plugs again. (Highly recommended: Flents / 29db.) And I wonder if it would be wrong to break out older Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park.  Metallica. Led Zeppelin etc. about 2am every morning for a week or two? It would definitely have to be something with a great bass beat. (And rap music is out. I’m not a fan. Why torture myself?)

Of course, these are the same relatively nice people who brought a “rescued by the side of the road” puppy home and they have no earthly business owning a dog. Seriously. The mom actually admitted they know nothing about raising a puppy. (Buy a book?) The pup is cute, but has no discipline and no training. They also bought the pup, who is now probably 5 months old tops, a shock collar because he’s biting. I have no problem with shock collars; however, if you don’t know how to use them you are going to create a problem with the animal. The little girl who lives there was playing outside with the dog and when I let my dogs out (on leashes mind you) the dog would not leave mine alone. She threatened to get the shock collar because he wasn’t minding. I nicely told her to put the dog on a leash and work on commands – the shock collar isn’t going to work when you don’t have any idea how to properly use it. It’s so frustrating.

They also just let the dog outside by himself to go potty. No leash. No nothing. He wanders by the creek and we have all sorts of wildlife that could harm the animal including (but not limited to) coyotes, possums, raccoons, snakes and more. And without watching the animal, it would also be very easy for someone to steal their pet. It’s pretty sad. But what can I do? Not much I’m afraid.

In other news, I have found a few local radio stations (after living in the Metroplex for a few years) that I totally dig. One is a classic rock station that reminds me of my years in broadcasting. Right now, Bog Seger’s “Turn the Page” is playing.  My word. I love this song. I brings back so many memories. The downside is I’m singing along and my German Shepard is not amused. To make her howl some more is the question. The aforementioned neighbors are home so the answer: I’m singing.  Heh.

(Insert quick bathroom break here.) 

Oh heck. I just broke out Fall Out Boy, who is not my favorite band, but I really love their music. “I Don’t Care” is cranked to 100 (and the dogs are hiding in the other room.) Patrick has such a cool voice and Pete Wentz plays a pretty solid bass line. I know I shouldn’t feel this pleased, but I just looked outside and the neighbor’s dog is running amok again. After this comes Zeppelin. Yeah, it’s going to be a good day, I think.

Fall Out Boy – “I Don’t Care”

Balls!

2014, I have unanimously decided, sucks balls. I thought when I lost my dad in 2009, that was the worst year. No. This one has it beat by miles.

The year started off with Yoda moving to the Metroplex. I stayed behind and sold the house and my old car, which I basically drove the doors off of. Then I had to put a fur-baby, Angel, to sleep. I finally found a job a few months later and moved down with Yoda.

I was not a fit for said job and was also injured on the job. It was a two for one special. But to top it off, I became extremely homesick.

As summer came to a head, I lost a best friend, my sis-in-law, to cancer. It was brutal. Shortly thereafter, I quit my job.

This allowed me to come and visit my daughters quite often and I’m very thankful – especially since I have a brand new grandson. But things at their apartment were going fubar because of a newborn and my BIG sheepdoodle, Maverick the Amazing. As a result, he came down to live with us mid-October. By the end of the month, he was sick.

Maverick visited the vets a couple of different times, but it wasn’t until Monday the vet in the Metro said he needed an ultrasound and more tests because he thought he felt a mass. Gads. Already $1700 down and more to come. So I did the logical thing and brought him “home” to my vet tech daughter that night.

Yes, he needed more tests which were done Tuesday. Doc Chase, one of my favorite vets of all time, advised he needed emergency surgery as there was indeed a mass.

A few hours later, I found there was a large mass on his spleen, he had been bleeding internally and there were other masses. He was not going to recover. I had to make the decision to put him down.

Worst. Day. Ever.

I miss him more than mere words could ever say. He was amazing. Simply the best dog I have ever had.

As 2014 starts drawing to an end, I’m most thankful it’s ending. I can’t really take much more of it and 2015 surely must be better. Surely.

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New York State of Mind

“Some folks like to get away, take a holiday from the neighborhood.  Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood.  But I’m taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line. I’m in a New York state of mind.”

~Billy Joel~

ESB NYC

They say it’s a city of lights, a city that doesn’t sleep. It’s true what they say. There is an energy that fills the air and warms my spirit. Of the many places I have been in my life, none affects me moreso than my favorite place on Earth, New York City.

Eldest is visiting her boyfriend up in the Big Apple this weekend. It’s the first vacation she’s taken on her own and it’s over 1,700 miles from “home.” But she loves the place as much as I do, there’s family there and if all else fails, I will hunt down anyone that hurts my baby and they will meet the Hudson face to face.  Can you tell I worry?

I’m trying to get my stuff together for a weekend in my hometown about 6 hours away. Yoda and I have had a really sick dog so this should make the trip that much more exciting. 2 people. 2 dogs. 1 Vehicle. Joy. But I get to see family and the new grandbaby so that’s okay, I think.

Enough for now… just thought I would ramble for a little bit.

Sweetest of dreams…

 

 

 

 

The Joy of Adult Parenting

“Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.”
~Anne Frank~

Sage-Corkscrew Swamp, Naples, FL
Sage-Corkscrew Swamp, Naples, FL

Anne Frank had it right. You can only give good advice and try to teach your children the path to walk down. While our children may inherit or mimic their parents actions, the one thing we have to remember is they are not us and will choose their own lives. But the “remembering” is not so easy and we often find ourselves with adult children who blow our minds with actions and decisions made that “we” would never do.

The first thing as a parent I have to consider as they are both adults, though still young, is sharing my wisdom (such as it is) and insights without being critical. I also have to now respect each of their differences. It’s truly a balancing act and I don’t know that I will ever have it down, but I do so try.

As I have a solid relationship with both of my daughters, I am and will be forever blessed. As they age, I’m learning  they will  (or is it still?) come to me if they need help during a “crisis” and that I need to keep clear of unsolicited advice.  But the discernment from “crisis” to “chronic” is murky at best sometimes – especially if chronic things have escalated into a crisis.

For example: The ongoing struggle between my sun and moon daughters over cleaning their apartment is a chronic situation that often turns into a small crisis filled with yelling and bitching. But learning to live with others and respecting each other’s choices as adults is something they have to do which means I struggle not to interfere unless called upon by one or both parties. I offer the requested advice and a shoulder, but as young adults, they must learn how to deal with “difficult” people. And each of them finds the other difficult and they have for years.

Again – the whole issue is about respect. They need to respect each other despite their obvious differences. Yoda and I have worked hard to show respect to them and to each other as a model for our lives. They each have to learn they are not the other and will choose their own paths. If they can respect that and respect each other, I believe that at the end of the day, the sun and the moon can come together to create something truly beautiful.

The path we all follow is not easy. It is a lifetime of learning and growing. But in choosing to be a counsellor and friend to my adult children instead of their coach or referee is a better option. In the end, they will each have their own strengths and their own character to be passed down to the next generation.

Almost Five Years….

The older I get, the more I find myself acting like my mother or father – especially my father. This is good because even though he’s been gone for almost five years this month, I still have parts of him with me. You see, some memories have begun to dim a little and I cling to those I remember with crystal clarity.

My pops was a baseball player, umpire and minor league manager. He was with the Yankees, Braves and Brewers in various capacities over a 14 year career, yet never made it on the field in the majors. (Thank you Lou Gehrig.) I bring this up because when I was five, pops and I were in the backyard and he was teaching me how to throw and catch a ball. Apparently my aim at a young age was spot on and his catching sucked because I felled him like a giant Redwood. We didn’t play any more games after that, but I learned the inadvertent power of an accidental curve ball at an early age.

Thought: Dad’s favorite movie was “Pride of the Yankees.” He loved “Hogan’s Heroes” and couldn’t stand watching anything bloody or gory in movies or TV.

At thirteen, when I was nearing the peak of teen angst, my father morphed into a big, bad knight in shining armor. Now, he was an actual knight – bestowed on him by King Peter the Second of Yugoslavia. But this day was awesome. I had a teacher who believed yanking my hair when I got an answer wrong, spoke up/out or under my breath or even silently wished her dead was a good idea. As a result I cut my hair ridiculously short and punky (as it was the 80’s) to mitigate the damage. She actually pulled my hair out this one day and when I told pops, he marched on the fortress of that school and threatened to throw her out of her 3rd floor, un-air conditioned classroom window. She never yanked my hair again. My hero.

Thought: Pops did this one other time at his agency located near the top floor of a bank building. This led to an early “note to self” – don’t lie, cheat or try to steal your way to success.

Sixteen brought an accident on Halloween night. I BADLY burned my hands at work and the man that couldn’t deal with medical stuff sat in the room as the doctors helped heal my hands. The night he brought me home, he set a green glo-light next to the bed so I could see so as to not bang my useless appendages against anything and sat in his office outside my door for hours. He helped with a lot of things I had taken for granted.

Thought: Pops HATED purple with a passion – especially lavender. Mom and I occasionally wore it to tick him off. Purple became my favorite color.

The man that drove more than 2.5 million miles before his first accident taught me to drive. He was not a patient man and I STILL hear his voice in my head while parallel parking, breaking or backing up.

Thought: He loved Obsession cologne and I can’t ever smell it again without his face coming to my mind.

He walked me down the aisle when I was 23 and held my first daughter the following year. Eldest was soon followed by Youngest and he loved the girls in a way I couldn’t imagine until five days ago when I held my grandson for the first time. I just wanted to scream to Heaven, “Hey Pop! I get it now!”

I saw my pop slowing down, his back stooping over and his gray hair turning silver then white as time trudged on. His once big frame leaned out as he couldn’t really eat much any longer. He lived on milkshakes from Malcolm’s. I remember the day my dad became like my child and I loved him even more. I no longer took the knight for granted. It was my turn to care for and save him. But you can’t save someone from the grave.

When it came time to say goodbye, we had his friends come by hospice. My mother came. My sister Chris and her husband came. But…My oldest sister came and together we stayed with him at the hospital. We told him stories and sang to him for a couple of days. The night the nurse brought in a roll-away bed was the first night I slept in days. Dad waited until Ker and I were asleep to whisper his last breath.

I have hundreds of memories and moments throughout any given day when I suddenly do or say something that is “him.” God knows he wasn’t a perfect man nor a perfect father. He tried though and I think that’s what counts. But I wanted to share these with you because memories are better when shared.

Continue reading Almost Five Years….

Sleep Deprivation… Not Just for a New Mom

And these children that you spit upon as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They’re quite aware of what they are going through.

It’s been a wicked-busy few days. Yoda and I left the Metroplex about 2230 hours and arrived “home” in Amarillo about 0430 on Saturday morning. Necessitating this midnight run was the pending arrival of my first grandson. Jess went into labor about 0700 Saturday… (after we got a combined grain of sleep from the Sandman…) Baby J finally decided to stop loitering in my daughter’s womb and made his appearance at 2256 hours Sunday night.

I find Squishy-Face (Baby J) incredibly cute and healthy; Jess is home recovering as well. She’s a little, sometime a lot, sore and has the energy of a sloth.

Frankly, I too could use some recovery time. I’m exhausted. From last Thursday when I woke at 0900 until I went to bed Monday morning at 0100, I got about 17 total hours of sleep. Jess and Baby J are worth it, but it seems like since then all I have done for days is run errands and I’m a wee bit on edge.

This brings me to:
I have been up since 0500 today. (I only woke because the bladder apparently contained the contents of Niagara Falls.) However, Yoda and I are bunking with my other daughter, my eldest, as well as Jess, Baby J and Ryan, J’s boyfriend. 5 adults in a 2 bedroom apartment. I wanted to put this into perspective because I’m feeling homicidal at the moment. Oh? Indeed.

Eldest has to work today. I’m sharing a room with her as she has an additional twin bed in her room. For the love of all that is pure and holy, there was almost a brutal killing as her alarm went off at the butt-crack of dawn and she hit snooze 85 times. Not only did I have to listen to the opening bars of a Taylor Swift nightmare, she apparently programmed several other alarms to wake her in case THAT failed. As I didn’t know what time she actually has to be at work, I didn’t know whether I should kill her or dump water on her.

The reassuring constant is misery loves company. I’m sure Jess didn’t sleep long or well either as a new baby tends to have that affect on new parents. God willing, we shall get some much needed rest before long and commiserate over breakfast and snuggles with the latest addition to the family.

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Thoughts on Grandparenthood

“Calvin: Dad where do babies come from?
Dad: Well Calvin, you simply go to Sears, buy the kit and follow the assembly instructions.
Calvin: I came from Sears?
Dad: No you were a blue-light special at K-Mart – almost as good and a lot cheaper!”
Bill Watterson

6a00d83451f25369e200e54f14c7ca8833-800wi My baby is having a baby. It’s weird to say, even more bizarre to think about. J is due tomorrow, October 8th. I don’t know if the new arrival will come on time, early or be delayed because he needs a little longer to bake at 98.6 degrees.

One of mine was a few days early, the other was about a week late. I know that at this stage in pregnancy, there is nothing more miserable than the heat of summer and the readiness that comes with a child sitting on your bladder. There is a special feeling when you are kicked in the liver or spleen or when a foot / elbow lodges itself under your ribs. Yes, indeed. And those moments when your mammary glands leak at the most unsuspecting times or when you want to tie your shoes and you can’t find your feet are the stuff memories are made of. 

But through all of the discomfort, there is a little life inside that makes it all worthwhile. And my baby, my youngest, is about to experience the “joy” of motherhood for the first time. 

Pondering “advice” for months now, I can’t decide what to say, what to do. It’s her child, her life and I’ve offered some “suggestions” about the actual delivery. But as all grandparents before me, I figure I have to offer some words of sage advice when it comes to parenting. When my girls were born, my parents were fairly mute at the time and doled out advice through the years. I think this may be the safest and best course of action. 

The only advice I can safely give her and to all parents is to love that child with all of your heart. You will make mistakes and will grieve decisions you have to make and cannot change. Love will make it better, but never easier.  Love… the best advice I can give, the only thing TO give.