Well, That Escalated Quickly

I hate when this happens. 

I get a thought or idea in my head. Something special. Something that I feel is meaningful, but others don't. And yet I need their help to pull it off, so it falls apart. And then I fall apart. Or explode. Or a bit of both.

Today was one such day.

We watched Baby Bug today, and I was able to finish up a handprint/footprint painting for both sets of great grandparents, and for her other grandmother. Each painting consisted of no less than 3 footprints and no less than 2 handprints. And while that doesn't sound like any big deal, it's no small feat with a 1 year old. And we had so much fun doing it! She was really enjoying herself, and so was I.

We laughed about the fact that I got paint on my clothes, and she got some on her paint clothes, too. We talked about each of the characters in the paintings, and she was very proud of all her hard work! We talked about her giving her painting to her other grandmother. (The great grands live out of state). It really was a lot of fun.

She was getting tired, so I held her while she napped, and I drifted off a bit myself, because once she starts that deep rhythmic breathing once she closes her eyes, my breathing follows suit. It's rare that I can keep my eyes open when I hold her when she's napping. I thoroughly enjoy the snuggles. The time goes so fast. Why is it that babies are little for such a short time?

The plan when she woke up from her nap was to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree, so we could take it down. I want her to be able to see pictures of what she looked like when she painted these masterpieces. I wanted her to see how proud she was years from now when she looked back at her former self holding her paintings. I wanted to give her parents a picture to go with the paintings she did for them, because they are little for such a short amount of time. 

And I wanted a picture of us together. Because years from now when I look at it, I want to be able to feel her little arms around mine. To breathe her in again as I look at the pictures. To remember all the fun we had. 

But nobody would help me.

Bugster got off early, and I asked her, if she could help. She said yes at first, and then she changed her mind. I asked Hubster, but he's having a bad Parkinson's day. He's been cold all day. So he spent most of the day under a blanket in his recliner. And by the time he realized I needed help I'd been talking about for weeks, Bubster showed up to pick up Baby Bug. 

And things just fell apart. I asked Bubster, if he would help. He jokingly said 'no', because he says that a lot. But he also didn't do a thing to help me. And of course, when Baby Bug saw her daddy, it was all over. And she wouldn't sit with me for pictures. So they went home.

And I was left with all sorts of emotions that I wasn't prepared for. Disappointment apparently wasn't enough. I went straight into self-loathing, self-hatred, and every negative memory from every single negative experience in my life flooded in at once. And I exploded. Which made me hate myself even more. 

I'm just done. 

I'm done with having a Christmas tree in my living room for 4 months. I'm done with falling victim to my high expectations, (who knew a snapshot was a high expectation?). I'm done with my husband having Parkinson's and life being so incredibly different than what it was supposed to be. And I'm done with asking for help. 

I'm just done. 

Time changes everything.

They say that time changes everything, but it's always been a bit of a paradox to me. It rushes. It stands still. It messes with your memory but also firms up those magical moments in your life and allows you to reminisce about them as though they happened yesterday. 

I have a lot of those magical moments in my life. Some are amazing memories: Meeting Hubster for the first time. Getting married. Almost passing out at the amazing news we were expecting Bugster and then welcoming her just a few months later. Anticipating Hopper's arrival. Opening the best birthday gift I've ever received when having Scooter. Some are just plain awful. And while there's no need for me to remember them just to write them in a blog post, I will keep them tucked away. They are a part of me. 

I will instead just focus on those wonderful, magical memories that I've been so very blessed to have. I'm able to open them over and over again and live the days like they just happened. And there's one in particular that I will enjoy reliving time and time again.

It was when I finally got to meet Baby Bug...our precious little granddaughter...

Bugster had been fighting high blood pressure the last week or so of her pregnancy. She wasn't bedridden, but if it didn't come down right away by lying down, she needed to go in for a BP check. She took her blood pressure multiple times a day with a little wrist cuff, and it always went down when she rested on her side until the day it didn't. So she packed her bag for the hospital. (I know. She should have had it done. But it always seems like "The Day" is never actually going to arrive, and when it comes a week before you're planning on it, it catches you unaware). So she and Bubster headed out to the hospital. 

My mom, who had flown down to be here for her newest great-granddaughter's arrival, and I decided we'd better get that last coat of paint on the nursery room walls while we still could. (Frank finally moved out about 10 days prior, and there's no way Bugster could do any of the cleaning, let alone the painting in her condition). I was just putting the finishing touches of soft pink paint in the closet when Bugster called. 

She was crying.  

Bubster had run down to the cafeteria to get them something to eat really quick when the doctor came in and told her that they needed to induce her. And even though she was expecting it, it took her off guard to hear it while she was alone. And all of her pent up emotions that had been carefully held in check for 9 months rose to the surface during the phone call. I don't think she was scared as much as she just wasn't quite mentally prepared. But by the time the phone call was over, she was ready to get the show on the road.

So we packed up and headed out, too. We ran home, (had Calamity, who was supposed to be helping us paint but settled for keeping us company, follow us to our house, so she could follow us to the hospital), changed clothes, and waited for our friend to head over to watch the girls for us. It felt like time stood still, went in slow motion, and whizzed past us all during that half hour. It's amazing how you can almost see time in instances like that. 

We stayed at the hospital for a couple of hours and left when Bugster asked us all to clear out. Her main intent was to get Calamity to go home, and she wouldn't leave, if we didn't. The last thing we needed was to stick around and have Bugster's blood pressure rise, so we went home and relieved our friend who was watching the girls. We watched tv for a bit, called to say goodnight to Bugster, and went to bed. I wondered about the sanity of crawling into bed at the time, but Bugster assured us that she was doing fine, and there wasn't anything else to do.

The moment I actually drifted off to the Land of Slumber, the phone rang. It was Bugster. She was crying again. They had given her the medicine to start the induction. It was given in the hope that she wouldn't need pitocin. And it had kicked in. Hard. Like Transition Hard. And she was alone. Bubster had run home to get some creature comforts for his overnight stay and to feed the cats. She had told him to go but regretted it the moment the contractions took over. 

Her blood pressure was rising even more, and it was time to make a decision. She could choose to try an epidural to keep her blood pressure down, or she could opt for magnesium. Neither was her first choice, but the natural birth she had wanted wasn't going to happen. She decided to give the epidural a chance, since the pain was causing her blood pressure to rise. 

By the time Hubster and I made it to the hospital, (we left my mom with the girls, because we couldn't get ahold of our friend to sit with them again. She'd absentmindedly turned the ringer off on her phone.), Bubster was back at the hospital, the epidural was in place, and Bugster seemed at peace and out of pain. 

Hubster took advantage of the quiet of the waiting room at 1:00 in the morning to read and snooze, while I waited in Bugster's room waiting for the dragging time to quicken a bit, visited quietly with the doula and hit the pain pump for Bugster's epidural when she grimaced in her sleep. I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. I knew what was coming. She didn't.

When the nurse came in to check her progress a few hours later, everyone was shocked to find that Bugster was ready to go! The medicine had done it's job, and the epidural allowed her to sleep through every bit of labor! Time went into warp speed again. I woke Hubster up, so he could go get Mom, called our friend, who had since turned her ringer back on, and waited impatiently for them to get back to the hospital. They were just in time. Hubster and Mom came in to give Bugster a quick hug and tell her she was going to do great and headed back out to the waiting room. 

What seemed like moments later, a doctor came running from across the ward behind them. He yelled out asking the nurses where he needed to go. Hubster immediately recognized it as Bugster's room, and I know time had to have absolutely dragged for them while waiting for news. In the meantime, we were stuck in this time warp, where poor Bugster had to wait for the doctor to come in. Baby Bug could wait no longer to make her appearance. The doctor no sooner donned his paper gown than she appeared.

She was beautiful. She had a headful of downy black hair. And she wasn't moving or crying like she should. Time stood completely still, as I reassured Bugster that she had done an amazing job and listened to her and Bubster talk about how alert and beautiful and quiet their little girl was. I'm glad they got to see her look at them. I'm glad they had that special moment with one another, because what I saw was not as encouraging, and time stood perfectly still, in spite of the clock on the wall ticking above the noise of the nurses working on the baby.

I realized I was holding my breath. I needed to hear everything. I needed to hear her little cries. And my breathing was much too loud. And time stopped in its tracks. Moments later, we heard those beautiful little mewls that newborns make. And those beautiful little mewls turned into even more amazing little cries. And then she came over to meet her mommy and daddy for real. 

And she was breathtaking.

She IS breathtaking. 

She takes my breath away every time I see her. 

Every time I hold her. 

Every time I think of her. 

And time ceases. 

Of Dying Frogs and Honey.

Lately, I've had the worst time trying to concentrate. It's as though someone is sitting on the remote that controls my thoughts and their butt is sitting squarely on the + button causing the channels to change at a dizzying pace, all the while an elephant sits squarely on my chest making breathing close to an impossibility. I have to remind myself that the elephant will eventually get bored and will move on, but for now nebulizers are the only thing that helps, and they don't last nearly as long as I'd like them to. This junk that Hopper brought home and decided to so generously share with Scooter, Hubster and me is awful. I'm hoping the stupid elephant clears out soon and takes whoever is sitting on the remote with him. 

The last few days, I've worked on things that are on my master list that don't take too much energy. I've mended, altered, and added new elastic to a dozen or so of Scooter's skirts. She's thrilled, because she absolutely adores skirts, but I really do need to get it finished up soon, so I can reclaim the kitchen table for meals once again. It's harder to get anything done with the girls home sick, but ...(this sentence was interrupted by the need to clean up the remains of a wall plaque my parents got me that was broken by Scooter in a fit of irritation)...I'm hoping to finish them up tonight when they finally go to bed.

I feel horrible that I made Scooter feel bad about breaking it when I yelled at her. She has this habit of intentionally breaking things when she's not happy. She's done everything from chucking dishes across the room to bending/tearing toys in two, to ripping her necklaces and bracelets that she absolutely loves into pieces when she's angry. It's been very frustrating for all of us. She also has a habit of going over to a hanging plant we have in the living room and pushing it so it swings when she's irritated. And I don't think Scooter broke the plaque on purpose, but I think she figured she'd make it swing like she makes the plant swing back and forth when she's mad. To be fair, she isn't feeling well today, but I really do wish there was a way we could curb this behavior. We've been dealing with it for 20 years now, and although she's gotten better and not doing it all the time, she still can wreak havoc when she's riled. She apparently has her mama's temper from what I understand. 

My younger self pleads the fifth at the mere suggestion.

When I talked to Bugster the other day, she said I sounded like a dying frog. I feel like one, too. And the only thing that seems to quell the cough is honey. 

So I'm off to feed the frog.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

I can't believe it's been 2 months since I've posted on my blog. I remember when I first started blogging I thought I'd never be one of those bloggers who waited so long to write a post. Ha. It's funny how life can get in the way of blogging.

Thankfully, I just have a really sensitive sense of smell, and my blood sugar was not very elevated back in August when I had it checked. My fasting glucose test was totally normal, and my A1C was at borderline pre-diabetic levels, and I'm sure it's gone down since then. Still, it was a much-needed wake-up call! We've made drastic changes to our diet because of it, and we're starting to see some really positive results.

While my asthma still is not under control, it is finally responding to the new medicines I'm on, and I've been able to start tapering the steroids. I am so very thankful! I'm down to half the daily amount I started on back in June, and I'm hoping to be off them entirely by Christmas. And the number of breathing treatments I've needed has dropped by more than half. At the peak of the fires this summer, I was doing 7 a day. I'm now down to 3. It's progress for which I'm very grateful!

We've been busy with medical appointments for the girls. We've averaged 3 to 4 appointments a week since the last blog entry. The only break we had in appointments was after Hopper had surgery a couple of weeks ago. It doesn't look like things are going to slow down much on the medical front before the end of the year. We've already got another surgery scheduled and another one that we'll be scheduling next week. I'm glad the girls are getting the medical treatment they need, but I'm looking forward to a break in the action. I'm tired. 

I haven't done a lot of active dehoarding in the last few months, but I have no doubt that will come in time. I've had bigger things on my mind. The whole blood sugar scare, along with one surgeon wanting Hopper to lose some weight, so she can have a major surgery sometime next year has really opened our eyes to the way we were eating. We're now making a very concentrated effort to eat as healthily as we can. As a result, we've all lost a little weight. I'm down 15 pounds to date, Hubster is down 18, Hopper has lost 5 and Scooter has lost a couple, although she had the least amount to lose. And the best thing is that we've all been healthier than typical for this time of year. Yay for fruits and veggies!

Speaking of which, I've got about 40 pounds of tomatoes from the garden that need to be processed. I already canned several pints of Tomato Basil Sauce that is amazing, but now I need to make some salsa and can it, some more sauce and some whole tomatoes to use this winter. Even though our tomatoes didn't do as well as they did last year, I'm thrilled that we'll have such yummy goodness from the garden all winter long!

I'm hoping to get back to some serious dehoarding one of these days as life slows down a little. I'm also hoping to get back to more regular blogging. I miss it. And now that we no longer need to have the air conditioner on, (it is just feet away from the computer), I can actually sit at the computer without freezing.

There's something to be said for good weather blogging.

Happy! Happy! Happy!

Buster thinks she's coming down with an ear infection, so she stopped by this morning and asked me to look in her ear with our otoscope. There's definitely something going on in there, so she'll be going to the doctor to have them check it out. She hung around for awhile afterwards, so we could catch up on the latest with work and the rest. 

I always love when she stops by and we get to see her unexpectedly. It just brings sunshine to my day. And while we were visiting, the day just got brighter and brighter...

Hopper and Scooter has stayed the night at Bugster & Bubster's house a couple weekends ago when we went on a date. They'd taken their clothes and strings and such over in duffel bags, because they were quicker than getting out the little overnight case that's stored under the stairs and takes a bit to get to.

I'd unpacked Scooter's duffel bag earlier and had put it away, but I hadn't gotten around to Hopper's. We've been busy since our overnight date installing exterior doors and other such adventures, so I'm behind on things around the house again. So I just hadn't gotten around to unpacking it. That's all.

And sometimes this morning, Hopper decided to use it to carry her strings and boots around. The girls are funny that way. They love to pack and unpack bags, purses or even grocery sacks. So the duffel bag was just an extension of that. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And while I had done a quick inspection of her duffel bag when I was looking for Scooter's shirt, I hadn't torn it apart. What I'd seen when I looked in was the same thing that I'd seen when she brought it home from her weekend at Bugster's. But while Bugster and I were talking, Hopper pulled something out of her bag...               

It was red.

I saw a flash of black and white, and I just held my breath while Hopper worked at turning it right side out. 

It was the butterfly shirt!!!! 

Scooter was sitting there and was just beaming! She was definitely excited that it was still here! She decided to put it on, so Bugster could see it, and so she could go show her daddy, and all this was with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon on her face! Heck! We all had smiles that wide! We are so very happy! So very, very relieved!  

We're so relieved that she didn't throw it away, even though she pointed to the picture of the garbage can. Then again, I hadn't drawn a picture of a duffel bag, and she may have pointed to that picture, because she'd put it 'in' something. It's a frustrating thing that we all deal with with her inability to communicate. I'm just so very thankful it worked out in her favor! 

I feel like I've got Snoopy in my head doing the Happy Dance right now! 

Yay!!!   

When clothing is more than cloth and thread.

A few years ago, Scooter wore a shirt to school that Bugster had given her. She loved that shirt. After all, her sister had given it to her. It was a black thermal underwear shirt that had little skulls all over it. I personally can't stand skulls on shirts, but these were so little that it was easy to forget that they were on there, and because of her affinity towards it I let her wear it. It did say, "La De Freakin' Da" on it, but she didn't know what it said. She just thought it was fun.

She wore it to school at least a couple dozen times with no problem. Then one day when she wore it, someone said it was inappropriate to wear to school, and she was told to turn it inside out and wear it like that for the rest of the day. She had no idea what she had done wrong. (Neither did we, for that matter, since they'd never had a problem with it the first 2 dozen times she'd worn it!) She just knew she felt horrible and was totally humiliated by having to wear it inside out. After all, that meant that any student or faculty who saw her knew that she was a bad girl for wearing it. 

We still don't know why the teacher didn't: a) call us and let us know there was a problem, b) put a tshirt on over it that we'd sent in for spare clothing for her in case of an accident, or c) take it off and have her wear a spare shirt for the rest of the day. But she had the same teacher that sprayed her with industrial strength air and surface sanitizer. So poor Scooter didn't have much of a chance in the entire situation. When she got home, she was heartbroken.

She got off the bus absolutely glaring at me and hitting herself in the head alternating with trying to pull her sleeve off. She was exceptionally upset. When we got inside, and I read her communication notebook, I guess I could understand where they thought it was inappropriate, but I still didn't understand why they felt the need to humiliate her. Then again, we didn't know that she was being sprayed yet, either.

She immediately tore her tshirt off and wanted to throw it in the garbage. She wanted nothing more to do with it. I told her I'd wash it up and get rid of it, but we didn't need to throw it away. It was gone within the week, and she never had a problem with it again. 

Until last week, that is.

Scooter's classroom had a community outing, and the forecast was for it to be 85 degrees. It didn't get that warm. Only got to the mid-60s. She'd worn her very favorite long-sleeved tshirt that her my mom and sister had gotten her. She absolutely adores butterflies, and this tshirt had huge ones on it. It couldn't have been more perfect. Long sleeved and butterflies!  She wore a denim jacket, because it was chilly when she went to school, and we felt that was perfect with the weather the way it is. I mean, she can wear long sleeves in the summer and never break a sweat. I've never been able to do it, but she sure can!

When she got home, though, she wasn't wearing the shirt. She was wearing a spare short sleeved shirt that we'd sent in for use in the case of a spill. She was so upset. Before she even got off the bus, she signed to me that it 'stinks' and 'broken'. The broken had to do with her necklace that had come apart, but the 'stinks' was because she didn't have her shirt on. I just figured she'd gotten it dirty. 

Wrong.

The teacher felt like she would be too warm in her long sleeves and denim jacket, so she took her tshirt off her and had her wear a short sleeved one for their community outing under her denim shirt. I didn't receive a phone call. Just a note after the fact. While I was reading the note, I saw in my peripheral vision that Scooter had taken the shirt and had headed into the kitchen with it. I assumed she tossed it downstairs, so it could be washed, but I didn't check that she had.

The next day was trash day, and Hubster took care of it. I didn't really think much of it until it was time to get the red clothes washed yesterday. I looked all over for the tshirt. 

It was nowhere to be found.

My heart just sank. When she got home from school, I drew her a picture of the shirt and reminded her of the situation, and then I drew a picture of the garbage can and a picture of the stairs with dirty clothes at the bottom. I asked her, if she'd thrown the shirt away in the trash can, or if she'd tossed it downstairs to be washed.

She pointed to the trash can. 

I asked her, if she'd thrown it away, and she signed, 'yes'. Then she signed, 'sorry'. I just about cried.

Even though she apparently had no negative reaction at school to changing into a different tshirt, she obviously thought about it for the rest of the day. And I know that in her little mind it was no different than when she had to wear the tshirt inside out, because she'd been 'bad'. 

My heart breaks for her. That was probably her favorite tshirt. She would get it out of the dirty clothes and wear it, if she didn't feel like I'd gotten my act together quick enough with the laundry. She'd wear it dirty for weeks at a time, if I didn't insist that it needed to be washed. And it just makes me so sad that even if she was confused about what I was asking her, and it shows up somewhere around her that it will never be as special to her as it once was. 

It's not like she gets to ever have a boyfriend or even a real friend. She'll never be able to get a job or go to college or have a family of her own. She doesn't play with toys much at all. In fact, her scarves, jewelry, boots, and clothes are really all that matters to her. I mean, she's got a toy here and there that she loves, but they are the  rare exception. I think one reason that they mean so much to her is that they are a way for her to express herself. And being nonverbal, expressing oneself is really, really important!

I know that the teacher was doing what she thought she could to help Scooter be more comfortable during their outing, but I really wish she'd have called me first to check with me before she took it upon herself to have Scooter change clothes. I made it very clear that I am not angry with the teacher but that I expect her to talk to me before she does something like that again. 

And then I cried my eyes out at Scooter's loss. 
    

    

Springtime in the Rockies

It's that time of year again. You know, the time when you have record temp lows and snow every Tuesday of April? Yep. That time.

Went out to the backyard with Bugster, so she could grab a planter to plant her mint in, and I couldn't believe the job the wind did on the backyard. I know a lot of it is just as we left it last Fall, but there is definitely a bit of a mess from the wind, too. 

It was a bit overwhelming to see the amount of work we're going to have to do to get the backyard back in order. The apple tree is still only partially down with the limbs reaching across half of the backyard. We'll be cutting it into smaller pieces and possibly splitting it for people to use in their smokers. We also have a couple of ash trees we had to cut down a couple of years ago that we have to finish up. Hopefully, if we get it cut and split, we can sell it as firewood or use it to barter for services and get some help on the yard.

As much as I'm overwhelmed with the backyard, I'm dying to get my hands dirty and work out there! I always feel so much better working outside and getting the fresh air. We're getting an old pickup truck soon, because we have needed one for years. We're getting a good price on it and buying it from a reliable mechanic, so we should get several years out of it, and we'll put it to use on the backyard first.

Well, that, and getting some pallets for gardening. We have an area that always seems to end up overflowing with weeds at the side of the house. It borders the fence between our house and the neighbors', and it will be perfect for pallet gardening. It's about 25'x3', and it will be home to all sorts of lettuce, spinach, peas and assorted herbs, as well as a pumpkin or two that will be allowed to travel the fence and make its way down the edge of the driveway. It may not happen this year, but eventually, I would love to grow enough pumpkins that the kids in the girls' day program can come out and each year and pick one. 

 And although it would be pretty growing in a pallet garden, I don't think I'll be growing any mint this year. Bugster brought some over last night that she got to plant in her own garden, and I made the mistake of smelling it. In fact, I smelled the peppermint and spearmint along with the other two varieties she bought. It brought on a lovely asthma attack, and it reminded me that I need to be careful of certain things. So when I want some mint-infused water this summer, I'll have to borrow some of Bugster's mint. Not that she'll want it back. I'll offer to return it, anyway. 

I'm thinking a pallet garden is the way to go to make the meddling neighbor happy, too. We put up a privacy panel with lattice at the top at the side of our house shortly after we moved in. It was a little on the narrow side for the space, so we took more lattice and attached it to our panel and the neighbor's fence post. Unfortunately, the lattice started coming down, and between the wind and a little extra help from our neighbor, there's nothing there now. It doesn't look very good at all. If we get her consent, we'll go ahead and put up a small pallet, attaching it to her fence on one side and to our panel on the other, add some flowers or ivy, and I'm hoping she'll be happy with it. It would definitely be an improvement over what is going on out there right now.

I think I need to start making some lists with all the big things we have to get done around here, so I don't feel so overwhelmed. It's funny how just writing it down makes things less stressful. 

I'm sensing a theme here...