My mom is in the hospital. Again.

This is her third visit this year. Her fourth in the last eight months. How many since this whole ordeal began almost seven years ago? I can't even begin to figure that one out.

This time she has abscesses on her hip. How does this happen? Not even in an area where a pressure sore may form. Who knows? But in her compromised health, anything is possible.

She called me on Monday morning at 5:30am, concerned about how she would get back to her room. You see, she insists that the nursing home moves her, every day, to another room that looks exactly like her own room. Except it's not, she says. You cannot talk her into believing that she is safe and sound in her own room. She will not believe you and she will get angry if you do not believe her. You play the game.

Of course, phone calls such as those mean only one thing...an infection is brewing and a hospitalization is likely soon to follow. So, it was no surprise when the nurse called to tell me about the abscesses and that they would be starting her on antibiotics.

A few days later, my sister receives the call telling her that they would be sending our mom over to the hospital so that they can give her iv antibiotics. We have learned, by repeating the same mistake over and over, that it is useless to go to the hospital right away. Mom has not idea that we're there and we will sit, sometimes for as long as eight hours, waiting for them to admit and move her to a room. So, Jim and I moved one of the trucks home from a job site and then I headed to the hospital. I waited an hour and a half for them to bring her up to her room. I guess I could have taken more time before I went in.

So, my mom was fairly lucid that afternoon. We could hold a conversation, although a somewhat confused one. She knew me and knew what was going on. The following day, Jon had offered to go with her to see me (is my boy becoming a man?) and she barely spoke to him, didn't seem to understand that he was there. The next day she slept. She would not rouse for any visitors and we figured that she must have needed to sleep. Yesterday I went in, hoping that the rest did her some good, only to find her in much worse condition.

I have never seen her like that before. Believe me, I have seen her very ill, but this was different. She was sleeping, but very restless and agitated. Occasionally she calls out, sometimes she says, "Mama!" Her mother's been gone for 10 years...
She would say a word and then talk gibberish, then sleep and call out. Over and over.

Hard to watch, to say the least. I decided to wait and hope that the doctor made his rounds soon. My brother came and shortly after that, the doctor arrived.

He tried to talk to her. We voiced our concerns, but he assured us that it's a combination of the infection and all of the drugs. He said that she would come back as she was feeling better. Although, he did say that we never know if the dementia will be worse. That is an recurring fear of ours.

She settled down after awhile into a sleep, although still restless and agitated, but no longer calling out. We decided to leave when the aide came in to change her.

On the way out and in the parking lot, my brother and I talked about it. One memory came back to both of us. When our dad had his stroke, he responded to us for the first couple days and then he stopped. We felt him slipping away and were trying to accept it. One of the nurses, however, gave us some false hopes that he would recover, somewhat. The next day, we had to again accept the fact that his body was slowly failing and that there would be no recovery. A very difficult fact to accept about someone you love so much...

So, we wondered...was this doctor also giving us false  hope?

I could think of little else last night...

I went to visit her today, not knowing what to expect. She was sleeping. I had to wake her up. I had to see.

She was more alert. She said something about her glasses (the staff had taken them off and she rarely is without them, even when she sleeps). I found them and put them on her. She was happier then. She starts sentences but doesn't finish them or finishes them with words that make no sense. I decided to go speak with the nurse. There was nothing new to know and she had been semi-alert, but out of it all day. Her lunch came. I asked her if she was hungry and she said that she was. I knew that there was no way she could manage to feed herself. She kept trying to put her fingers in the food.

And so I fed her. Something I never thought I'd have to do. I worked in a nursing home for three years. I fed other people's mothers. Never my own...She enjoyed it. I talked to her about how no one makes goulash better than hers. As she enjoyed her butterscotch pudding, she tried to tell me about a butterscotch pie she once had.

Then she asked me about Dad.

"How is Dad?" she asked, "physically, I mean."

My Dad passed away in 1992. It was a hard question to answer.

I said, "He's okay, Mom." What else could I say??

I believe that she thinks they were in a car accident together.

I hope that she is better tomorrow.

Today was a hard day...

To my Daddy

Dad and I - summer of 1976 - I was 15 and he was 47

My dad was my hero, the first man I looked up to. He never saw my faults, always believed in me.

I remember curling up with him, when I was very little, to watch reruns of Mr. Ed because he knew I loved horses and what was better than a talking horse, of course!

I remember holding his hand when I was a little girl. I always felt safe.

I remember riding in the front seat of our car, between my dad and my mom. It made me feel cozy.

I remember pretending I was asleep, when I was too old to be (probably up until I was eight!), so that he would carry me to my bed at night. And he did.

I remember how he loved to talk. To anyone. It didn't matter if he knew them or not.

I remember that, everywhere we went, he knew someone. We could travel across the country and he would come across someone he knew.

I remember that he loved to eat. It was almost like a hobby for him. The last year of his life he couldn't eat everything he wanted because of a heart problem. He died anyways without having been able to enjoy all of his favorite foods one last time.

I remember the summer we (my dad, mom and I) rented a motor home and travelled out west with my aunt, uncle and their four kids. My dad did all the driving. When he drove that monster up to Mt. Rushmore, everyone was in the back of the motor home, scared and not wanting to look out the window, except for me. I trusted him completely.

I remember when my dad would ask me to help him take a load to the junkyard. It was his hobby, separating out junk to collect the money-making stuff and hauling it to Detroit to the junkyard. I never had to do anything, but he would take me to lunch and give me half the money he made. He just wanted someone to talk to on the long drive.

I remember how much my dad loved his family. He would (and did) drop everything if we needed him. He whould do anything for any of us. It didn't matter what we had done. It didn't matter if we didn't deserve his help or forgiveness. He gave it. No questions.

I remember and cherish the connection that I had with him when we moved to the country. We both loved it. He taught me so much about taking care of my horses. He sacrificed greatly to make sure I had what I needed and was able to take lessons and go to horseshows.

I remember that he couldn't hurt a flea, unless it was a threat to family. One of our chickens seemed to have broken its neck, but was still alive. He could not put it out of its misery. We had to have a friend do it.
Another time, a weasel (very mean) was living in our backyard, in an area where his grandchildren played. He killed it. My mom later said that he felt terrible about it always after.

I remember how much he loved being Popop to his seven grandchildren. And, oh, how they loved him back!

Popop and Jamie

I remember that my dad was a great man. He worked hard and he was kind and he went out of his way to help anyone. He was unconditionally devoted to his family. He never, ever asked for anything in return.

I remember the last "conversation" I had with my dad. He had a stroke and was unconcious, could not speak. For the first couple of days, he would respond to us when we talked to him, usually by squeezing our hand. We knew he could hear us. I finally had a few minutes alone with him and I told him how much I wanted him to get better, there was so much to look forward to and I told him how sorry I was for all the things I had done to hurt him. He gave my hand a long, gentle squeeze. I like to think that he was telling me that he loved me and forgave me...and goodbye. After that, he quit responding and a couple of days later, on the morning of Dec. 23rd in 1992, he left us...

We were consoled with the image of all of the family and friends that he would meet up with in heaven and he would so enjoy telling them all that had gone on since they left us, because he loved to talk.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

I need help

I have a problem...

I can't seem to part with the pictures on my camera's memory card. Oh sure, they're all safely on my computer and I'm pretty good about backing them up on a flash drive, but I just can't delete them off of my camera card. Once in a while, I have to delete some because my camera won't take pictures when it's full, but those are the duds...you know like the time Jim was taking pictures of me sitting in front of Our Lady of the Woods Shrine and after a couple of shots said, "You might want to do up your zipper!" Yep, pink undies...

Same pic..after I did my pants up.

Anyhow, I have pictures on there from almost two years ago.

Can someone please help me with my problem?? :)

The boy.

My son, Jon, just started a new job about a month ago. He's been very lucky in that respect. He's held a job since high school and has always worked at least 40 hours a week.

He didn't really like the boss/owner at this last job, didn't like the directions things seemed to be headed. His job was secure as long as the business didn't go under. He decided to get out while he had the chance. And he did have the chance. At the ripe old age of 21, he's good at what he does and has made some friends and connections that believe in him. He also has some lofty goals and would like to go into business for himself and is even talking about college again. Anyhow, he was able to get into this job with the help of an acquaintance who really believed in him. The man doing the hiring actually told him that he was hesitant to hire him because of his age, but he gave him a chance because he was spoken of so highly.

Jon has been working 11 to 12 hours a day, five days a week, and 4 to 6 or more on Saturday. He seems to like this job. I hear from him less than I used to. Still enough, but less. That's a good sign, because he likes to call me so that he can vent. It's been "our thing" since he started his career. If I don't hear from him every day, then that means things are going well. He'll call me every few days, just to talk. I like that.

Things are going well.

But the boy is tired! He works those long hours, he has his own house and then there's that sweet little girlfriend of his. He complains about how tired he is, how he doesn't feel like cooking and cleaning (I think that's a hint ;)) and he and his girl have to squeeze time in together between their work schedules and her full load of classes. I told him that I would clean and do some laundry when he can afford me, but he has a friend living with him. Between the two of them, they can handle things.

It seems like every time he stops by lately, we're headed out. I feel bad and, quite honestly, I miss him. So, last night I texted him. I wanted him to know how proud I am and how I really like his girl (maybe someday she'll be my daughter-in-law!). And then I told him that he could pick a night and I'd make him a home-cooked meal. Whatever he wants. I thought for sure he'd pick one of my old standbys. But then, I realized that once he developed his own tastes that he was never too thrilled with my cooking. I make simple meals. Jim and Jamie always preferred it that way. So, that's just the way it was, when he came along. So, nope, he wanted chicken and not just any old chicken. He tried to explain that they sell it, ready to cook, at our grocery store (not really my idea of home-cooked!). I went looking today. I've figured out that it was Chicken Cordon Bleu. And, of course, they didn't have any today. And I was surely not picking today to make something that I've never made before. Hopefully, the boy will be happy with the chicken that I'm making, to go with the cheesy potatoes that he asked for, and the garlic rolls (his choice). Then there's the hot fudge brownie sundae that he requested. Brownies are all baked and looking yummy!

I love that my boy is grown and out on his own. I've enjoyed every step of our journey together. I pray that all of his hopes and dreams are realized. He will work hard until he reaches those goals (or changes them, he's still young). And I love that he still needs his mom, once in a while anyways!

Peace

I have tried and failed at many things.

Later this year, I will turn 50 and I'm tired of trying and failing.

I feel as if, over the past couple of years, I have been able to find myself again. That brings me great peace. It has helped me learn to live my life the way that I want to and accept myself. I call it "embracing my inner dorkiness" :)

So what if I absolutely love Laura Ingalls Wilder, folk/pop music, being square, horses (even if I'll never have one again)?  I could go on and on...

I have decided to try to simplify my life. In small ways. I don't mean that I'm getting rid of all of my worldly possessions! I love many of my worldly possessions. It's those things that I have stored away, that I haven't used in at least a year, that I just don't love.

I have simplified many of my routines. I agonize over my hair. I'm done with that. Simple hairstyle. My hair is fine and mostly straight and I can't get it to do other things so I'm wearing a simple neat, clean hairstyle. I've simplified my make-up routine. I've simplified my wardrobe and my jewelry. Don't get me wrong - I'm simplifying, not getting rid of! I've simplified my housekeeping, making it easier to keep a clean, neat home. I'm trying to set aside time everyday to do my business bookwork instead of doing it all at one time. All of this, of course, while accepting that I am on call all day and into the evening when Jim needs help on a job.

My weight has been a constant source of stress in my life. I sometimes think that I could be completely happy if I were thinner. Last year, I started Weight Watchers and was doing well, but I let some stresses take over and I fell back into old ways (I take full responsibility). I have decided not to diet, but to make some changes that will result in a healtier me.  I know that dieting is what I should do, but I need to have some peace in my life right now.

Another big thing: complaining. I complain too much. Sometimes I complain that I complain too much! :) It's a hard habit to break. I'm having a tough time trying to figure out how to change this after a lifetime...

We usually go to church on Saturday evening, if not then early mass on Sunday morning. Sometimes we miss, I admit it, but I feel so much better when we experience our faith together with the rest of our church. This past weekend, Saturday got away from us, so we went yesterday morning. When we joined hands to say the "Our Father", a feeling came over me. Such peace and contentment. It was wonderful and I was able to carry it with me for the rest of the day. It is what I have been searching for in my life! That is why I have made these changes and am trying to learn to accept me as I am, while always trying to be a better me.


Have a wonderful, peaceful day,

My dreams of a little (very little) farm

For the past two years I have wanted chickens. Last year, we almost got some little chicks in the spring when Duke, our lovable Lab mix, showed up with a baby coyote and a couple of weeks later I found him playing with a baby fox. We were able to save the baby fox, which I took to a wildlife rehab. Shortly after this, he found a nest of baby raccoons. He means them no harm, really, he just wants to play with them. We decided to hold off a year on the chickens.

This year, I wanted to get chicks, but thought better of it. Now, Jamie's little dog, Sosha, is added to the mix and we just feel that both dogs would think a bunch of baby chicks would be a great deal of fun to play with. So, no chicks this year either.

For the past two nights, Duke has decided to bark and urgently beg to go out after 10pm. Usually, he's zonked out by then. Last night, I was playing facebook games working in my office when I started hearing a strange noise coming from the woods (through the closed window). I opened the window only to hear the strangest, eeriest noise. Weird and kind of spooky. Definitely what was prompting Duke to get a little whacky about going out. I called Jim to the window, him being a country boy and all, to figure out what it was and even he was stumped. All we can figure is that it was a litter of baby raccooons, maybe fighting, playing or perhaps in distress?

I used to love raccoons, even raised an orphaned one back when I was a teen. Then, we had ducks and I found that raccoons are pretty vicious. I have seen the destruction they have caused when they got into our shop and then into one of our trucks that had leftovers in it from my husband's lunch. And, I am an animal lover, but I'm sorry, what happened to my ducks changed my mind about raccoons and, sometimes, when we are just overtaken by them I told my husband not to tell me what happens out back if he has to take action...

Does anyone know of ways to keep predators out of the chicken/duck pen? We tried everything: buried fencing (to keep them from digging under it), electric fence, roofing the fence, barbed wire, etc. Those raccoons were able to get through them all! Next year, I really want chickens, just a few. The dogs will be older, wiser and lazier and I'm sure they'll leave them alone, but how to keep the vicious predators out?

Have a clucky day! :)

Simple Sunday...

We've been enjoying some perfect summer weather here this past week, including the rain :). Last night some storms moved through, prompting the weather service to issue a tornado watch. The worst of it was south of here, but we did get to experience some loud thunder. Wow!

So, today it's cool. Brrr. Quite a change from what we've been enjoying. But I've only to look at this picture and feel thankful for the slightly cool summer weather instead of this...

Enjoy your day, wherever you are, whatever the weather!