Life is strange. Things change and some stays the same. The life of a child is forever impacted by what happens when they are young. My life was no different. The things I did as a child, and who I did them with, have made me who I am today. My parents are the ones who influenced me the most.
A lot of you will think what I was taught is meanial and very chavenistic. Not so. The things that my parents taught me early in life, have helped me survive some of lifes hardships, that have been thrown my way. Loss of jobs, lack of income and other things that have happened in my lifetime, have made these skills invaluable.
Growing up, I was lucky to have a mother and father who loved to do things with their children. We were taught to do all the things girls were expected to do as we got older and some other useful things too. Now you have to remember, I did not grow up in the 80's and 90's like most of you who will be reading this. I was a child and raised in the 1950's and 60's, a very different time.
My mom taught me how to cook, clean, sew, knit and take care of a family. I have been doing most of these things since I was around 9 or 10. Now don't get me wrong I am not telling you this because I think it is wrong, exactly the opposite, it is something that should be taught to children, not only girls, but boys too. Some of these things come in handy, especially when money is scarce and you actually have to cook, instead of ordering out or opening a package of prepared food that you pop in the microwave. I know people that could not survive without that little piece of heaven, the microwave. There were no such things back then. In fact we had a wood stove in our kitchen for a good part of my childhood. That is where I learned to cook and start fires(one of my favourite things to do).
As anyone in my family can tell you, I am the fire starter in our family. I can build a fire out of anything, as long as it will burn. It does however take some finesse to start a fire in a stove. I can remember gassing my family on more than one occasion. The house would fill up with smoke and you would have to fan the door just to clear the smoke out enough to see. I learned early, the use for a damper on a chimney flue. Now, most of you will not be aware of this, but you cannot start a fire with large pieces of wood. It takes kindling(really small pieces of thin wood) to start a fire. You cannot just throw them in the stove and expect them to catch fire either. They have to be strategically place in order to get the best flame. Just remember you need air for the fire to work. That is where the damper(draft) on the flue comes in. Wood stove fires are wonderful on a cold day.
I can sew you a shirt, skirt, dress, pants and or a coat. I can knit you a sweater, blanket, scarf or hat. I know how to cook a gourmet meal, or hot dogs and chili, or a wonderful fudge brownie, all made from scratch. I can clean almost anything you could hand me. I learned all the things needed to survive as a wife and mother from my mother and the other women in my close knit family.
Now on the other hand, my father had a full set of survival skills too. He was a man that loved the out doors. He hunted, fished, worked on cars and chopped down trees. All things that are very helpful things for a young child to learn. Problem was he had no boys, just three little girls. I thought the sun rose and set over my dad. I wanted to be just like him. So I learned.
I can catch a fish, clean it and cook a gourmet meal with it for you. Over the years I became a rather good fly fisher. As I found over the years, it takes some skill to learn how to flick a fly rod and line just right to get the fly and line where you want to go. There is not a lot of room for error in the bush. My dad found that out one day.
He was casting the line out onto the pond. The line got stuck and when he flicked it to get the line out of the tree, here comes the fish hook, RIGHT INTO HIS UPPER LIP. That cut that fishing trip short. All I heard were some cuss words, and "come on get your stuff, we are going back to town". We had to get back to town to get the hook taken out. Not one of his better days. Grumbled all the way home.
My dad also worked on cars in our back yard. This skill has come in handy over the years. Saves a lot of money if you can change your own oil, tires and do little things with a car engine that need to be done. I have found that over the years, if you can tell a mechanic what it is you want done, chances are you won't get ripped off. Handy little skill to have.
Anyway, kids today are not as skill savey as we were as kids. They are more into computers and gadgets that,"do things for you". I hope at some point in their lives, the children from this generation begin to take some interest in the way things used to be. It is a wonderful way for children to bond with their parents, and in turn learn some valuable lessons. You never know when these things, "my parents taught me", might come in handy.
So when you are thinking about things to do with children in your life. Do something out of the ordinary. Teach them to cook, clean a stain, chop firewood, cut out a pattern and sew pajamas. Do things that they may need someday. Not everyone has money. Not everyone can afford to buy everything they want. Teach them the survival skills that may come in handy. If you don't know how, learn together. It will be time well spent. Then they will be proud and able to say, look at the things my parents taught me.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
OCD
Now I know a lot of you know that OCD stands for, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. How many of you are really willing to admit to some form of OCD in your life. By OCD I mean some form of obsessive need to do things over and over until they are right, or doing things in a way that cannot be changed without some major anxiety. There are a lot of you out there, so come on and admit it. If not to the world, to yourselves.
How many of you check the locks repeatedly before going to bed?
How many of you find it necessary to put all the same cans in the same area of the cupboard, neatly stacked in rows?
How many of you cannot stand to see two socks that are not perfectly matched?
Does it bother you when glasses on a table are different?
Can you stand to watch someone eat and mix it all up on their plate?
No.
Then, you my friend have OCD.
Now there are different forms of this peculiar affliction. In my case, people laugh when I eat candies of multiple colors. It is nearly impossible for me to eat more than one color at a time. I like to separate them into piles, or I will carefully pick them out of a group of candies, by color. I also find it hard to eat uneven numbers of items. I have had this problem since childhood, some 50 years ago. I did not find it hard when eating a meal, but when it came time for snacks, goodies or candy, my world would come to a screeching halt.
I never really understood what caused this to happen. I don't remember it ever being any different than it is today. My family and friends all make fun of me, but put up with my silly quirk. I just remind them of the silly things that they do. I have over the years found other people with this same OCD trait. It makes me feel not quite so strange to find that others do the same thing as I do when eating colored items.
I figure it is just my way of keeping my sanity. Reds go together, blues go together, yellow, green, and all the other colors that candies and goodies come in. The fact that I have to eat one color at time, or can only eat even numbers of items, is something that is part of me. I have tried to stop. I gave it everything I have not long ago. I put a handful of M&M's in my mouth. It was the worst candy I have ever eaten. My mind was so engulfed in the fact that the colors were all mixing together, that there was no way I could enjoy the fact that I was eating M&M's. It was horrible. I have gone back to eating things the old way. Each color by itself, and in pairs. I am to old to change. I know its weird, but I have decided I can live with it. Can you?
How many of you check the locks repeatedly before going to bed?
How many of you find it necessary to put all the same cans in the same area of the cupboard, neatly stacked in rows?
How many of you cannot stand to see two socks that are not perfectly matched?
Does it bother you when glasses on a table are different?
Can you stand to watch someone eat and mix it all up on their plate?
No.
Then, you my friend have OCD.
Now there are different forms of this peculiar affliction. In my case, people laugh when I eat candies of multiple colors. It is nearly impossible for me to eat more than one color at a time. I like to separate them into piles, or I will carefully pick them out of a group of candies, by color. I also find it hard to eat uneven numbers of items. I have had this problem since childhood, some 50 years ago. I did not find it hard when eating a meal, but when it came time for snacks, goodies or candy, my world would come to a screeching halt.
I never really understood what caused this to happen. I don't remember it ever being any different than it is today. My family and friends all make fun of me, but put up with my silly quirk. I just remind them of the silly things that they do. I have over the years found other people with this same OCD trait. It makes me feel not quite so strange to find that others do the same thing as I do when eating colored items.
I figure it is just my way of keeping my sanity. Reds go together, blues go together, yellow, green, and all the other colors that candies and goodies come in. The fact that I have to eat one color at time, or can only eat even numbers of items, is something that is part of me. I have tried to stop. I gave it everything I have not long ago. I put a handful of M&M's in my mouth. It was the worst candy I have ever eaten. My mind was so engulfed in the fact that the colors were all mixing together, that there was no way I could enjoy the fact that I was eating M&M's. It was horrible. I have gone back to eating things the old way. Each color by itself, and in pairs. I am to old to change. I know its weird, but I have decided I can live with it. Can you?
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Age
How many of you thought you would live past 25? How many 30? How many 40? How many 50? Does it ever stop? When are you old enough? Why do people treat you differently when your older? What is older and when does it happen? Well I'm here to tell you life is not what you expect, I am finding out.
It happened on my 25th birthday. I was looking forward to having dinner with my family and friends, and the phone call came. Mom calling to wish me Happy Birthday. "So how does it feel to be a quarter of a century old"?
Oh no what had just happened?
I was happy a few minutes ago at the thought of turning 25. I was feeling great. Now, I'm old, I'm almost dead, I'm a quarter of a century old. That sounds so much more ominous than 25. This made me start to think about my life and what I had accomplished. I was 25, I had not accomplished anything except getting married and having kids. My life was not special. I was just the girl next door. What was I going to do with my life. It was almost over, or so I thought.
Then came 30. Now 30 is kind of a fun number. Your not old yet, but people don't treat you like a kid anymore. My life at 30 was full of all sorts of weird things. I had more children. I had divorced. I had bought a house. I was on my own and doing rather well, or so I thought.
Things began to fall apart. Another failed relationship. Custody battles. Then the final straw. My kids moved with their dad.
I decided to move. My kids were with their dad. I felt like my life was going no where fast, except down the proverbial toilet. Partying, drinking and other things that, at this point in my life, I would rather not talk about. So when a friend said she was moving, I hopped on the band wagon and went with her and her kids.
This was the smartest thing I think I have ever done in my life. Got my sorry butt out of the situation I was in and started all over. Talk about scarey!!! I had $50 to my name and knew no one in the town where we were going. It was over 1000 miles from the home I had known for all but 5 of my 33 years.
Things started looking up the day we arrived. I got a job I loved. I met my present husband. We got married, we packed up all our stuff one day and moved to the USA. We moved to be closer to my husbands aging parents. Life was getting better, or so I thought.
Then came 40. Now that number does not do much for most people. The number 40 when talking about age, to most people signifies that they are "OVER THE HILL". Or so they say. I do not agree.
My life took a strange turn in my 40's. The Gulf War started. My daughter in law was pregnant. Our oldest son was shipped off to Kwait. The phone call came one afternoon. He had been shot. A mother's worst nightmare. He was lucky. He was ok. He came home 2 days before his son was born.
Things started looking up. I went back to school. During that time, we had a huge tragedy, we lost Tommy(my husband's dad). He was one of the reasons I went back to school in the first place. Tommy and Rena(his mom) encouraged me to do the one thing I had always wanted to do, get my RN degree. I am just sad that Tommy passed away and did not get to see me graduate. I graduated and passed my nursing boards. I found jobs that I loved and took on things that I never thought possible.
People do not realize what they can do as they get older. The older I get the more things I seem to be able to accomplish. I do not have all the garbage hanging over me that young people have. I still party with the best of them, but now my idea of a really good time is a good meal, good shows on TV, talking with my husband and spending time with my family. Funny how your priorities change. Life was good, or so I thought
Then my friends, comes the the GREAT number 50. Now just like the 20's things were going good, until someone in their infinite wisdom made that crappy statement. "YOUR HALF A CENTURY OLD"!!! Now that was downright mean.
Funny how people perceive, what we now call middle age. My birthday came and went as if nothing had changed. I got the normal Happy Birthday greetings from the family, kids and friends. Nothing special. Just a mile stone that came and went. Funny, I had expected a big hoopla, and nothing happened. It was just another day. We went to dinner, went home and watched TV. Yippee. I guess no one else but me saw this as a big day or a big deal. Can't wait for the next time someone reminds me it is their birthday. Got it all planned out, or so I thought.
Just over the horizon is another big milestone, "60". Oh where did the time go? I look in the mirror and see the girl that just graduated high school still. Things have not changed much. I have a few more wrinkles around the eyes (from smiling so much). I have a different body shape now (built for comfort no longer for speed). And my heart is bigger than it has ever been (to accomodate all the love for all the people I have in my life). The world is a different place than it was all those years ago. Wars have come and gone. Friends and family have come and gone. I have stayed the same, or so I thought.
It happened on my 25th birthday. I was looking forward to having dinner with my family and friends, and the phone call came. Mom calling to wish me Happy Birthday. "So how does it feel to be a quarter of a century old"?
Oh no what had just happened?
I was happy a few minutes ago at the thought of turning 25. I was feeling great. Now, I'm old, I'm almost dead, I'm a quarter of a century old. That sounds so much more ominous than 25. This made me start to think about my life and what I had accomplished. I was 25, I had not accomplished anything except getting married and having kids. My life was not special. I was just the girl next door. What was I going to do with my life. It was almost over, or so I thought.
Then came 30. Now 30 is kind of a fun number. Your not old yet, but people don't treat you like a kid anymore. My life at 30 was full of all sorts of weird things. I had more children. I had divorced. I had bought a house. I was on my own and doing rather well, or so I thought.
Things began to fall apart. Another failed relationship. Custody battles. Then the final straw. My kids moved with their dad.
I decided to move. My kids were with their dad. I felt like my life was going no where fast, except down the proverbial toilet. Partying, drinking and other things that, at this point in my life, I would rather not talk about. So when a friend said she was moving, I hopped on the band wagon and went with her and her kids.
This was the smartest thing I think I have ever done in my life. Got my sorry butt out of the situation I was in and started all over. Talk about scarey!!! I had $50 to my name and knew no one in the town where we were going. It was over 1000 miles from the home I had known for all but 5 of my 33 years.
Things started looking up the day we arrived. I got a job I loved. I met my present husband. We got married, we packed up all our stuff one day and moved to the USA. We moved to be closer to my husbands aging parents. Life was getting better, or so I thought.
Then came 40. Now that number does not do much for most people. The number 40 when talking about age, to most people signifies that they are "OVER THE HILL". Or so they say. I do not agree.
My life took a strange turn in my 40's. The Gulf War started. My daughter in law was pregnant. Our oldest son was shipped off to Kwait. The phone call came one afternoon. He had been shot. A mother's worst nightmare. He was lucky. He was ok. He came home 2 days before his son was born.
Things started looking up. I went back to school. During that time, we had a huge tragedy, we lost Tommy(my husband's dad). He was one of the reasons I went back to school in the first place. Tommy and Rena(his mom) encouraged me to do the one thing I had always wanted to do, get my RN degree. I am just sad that Tommy passed away and did not get to see me graduate. I graduated and passed my nursing boards. I found jobs that I loved and took on things that I never thought possible.
People do not realize what they can do as they get older. The older I get the more things I seem to be able to accomplish. I do not have all the garbage hanging over me that young people have. I still party with the best of them, but now my idea of a really good time is a good meal, good shows on TV, talking with my husband and spending time with my family. Funny how your priorities change. Life was good, or so I thought
Then my friends, comes the the GREAT number 50. Now just like the 20's things were going good, until someone in their infinite wisdom made that crappy statement. "YOUR HALF A CENTURY OLD"!!! Now that was downright mean.
Funny how people perceive, what we now call middle age. My birthday came and went as if nothing had changed. I got the normal Happy Birthday greetings from the family, kids and friends. Nothing special. Just a mile stone that came and went. Funny, I had expected a big hoopla, and nothing happened. It was just another day. We went to dinner, went home and watched TV. Yippee. I guess no one else but me saw this as a big day or a big deal. Can't wait for the next time someone reminds me it is their birthday. Got it all planned out, or so I thought.
Just over the horizon is another big milestone, "60". Oh where did the time go? I look in the mirror and see the girl that just graduated high school still. Things have not changed much. I have a few more wrinkles around the eyes (from smiling so much). I have a different body shape now (built for comfort no longer for speed). And my heart is bigger than it has ever been (to accomodate all the love for all the people I have in my life). The world is a different place than it was all those years ago. Wars have come and gone. Friends and family have come and gone. I have stayed the same, or so I thought.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
An eating experience
How many of you have ever thought of food in the same sentence with the word sensual? Have you ever thought of anyone loving food that much? Do you know anyone that treats food that way? Well I am here to tell you I know someone who enjoys food more than anyone else I have ever known.
During one evening at work, there were a few of us sitting eating our dinner, or should I say gulping down whatever we could get in our mouths before the next call light went off. Now don't get me wrong, we don't always eat that fast, but for the most part, we gulp food down fairly quickly when we have a spare minute. We sat watching one of the girls slowly eating her dinner. With every bite, she seemed to enjoy it more and more. I have not in my lifetime been so privileged to see someone that enjoyed food with such passion. With each bite she would look, smell, taste and savour each morsel.
Most of us try and sit and enjoy the little bit of time we have. Now Jen is one nurse, that believes that the time she has for eating is precious and each flavour is to be savoured on its own. As an appetizer the meal started with a bowl of carefully carved strawberries. With each stab of the fork, another firm, red morsel was engulfed after being dipped in whipped cream.(not your run of the mill Cool Whip, I'm talking home made whipped cream). Next came the main course.
Then came the barbecue sandwich overflowing with sauce, (Jack Daniels BBQ sauce no less) onto the counter and down her hand. Each bite was an intricate and carefully choreographed experience. With her eyes closed, she would open her mouth, taste each piece of food that entered her mouth. Smiling after each morsel moved across her tongue. She reached into her food pack for the next course.
There was the pudding cup. Stirring slowly to make sure all was smooth, she turned the spoon over and over inside the cup. Her hand moved slowly with spoon firmly in her grasp towards her mouth. Turning the spoon over as she put it into her mouth, the pudding fell gently onto her tongue. (did i mention that it was tapioca). She grinned, chewed slightly and swallowed. She now reached again for her food pack.
Her meal was followed by a Pepsi throwback. Shortly after finishing her meal and the Pepsi, she stood up and began doing the hustle (Throwback always takes her back and makes her want to hustle).
I had never experienced anything like this before. I had never thought of eating as a sensual experience. I now see food in a whole new light. Tasting each flavour has become a new experience for me.
Nights on our unit can be and always will be exciting. You never know what is going to happen or how things are going to turn out, but to each and everyone one of us, we love to watch Jen eat.
During one evening at work, there were a few of us sitting eating our dinner, or should I say gulping down whatever we could get in our mouths before the next call light went off. Now don't get me wrong, we don't always eat that fast, but for the most part, we gulp food down fairly quickly when we have a spare minute. We sat watching one of the girls slowly eating her dinner. With every bite, she seemed to enjoy it more and more. I have not in my lifetime been so privileged to see someone that enjoyed food with such passion. With each bite she would look, smell, taste and savour each morsel.
Most of us try and sit and enjoy the little bit of time we have. Now Jen is one nurse, that believes that the time she has for eating is precious and each flavour is to be savoured on its own. As an appetizer the meal started with a bowl of carefully carved strawberries. With each stab of the fork, another firm, red morsel was engulfed after being dipped in whipped cream.(not your run of the mill Cool Whip, I'm talking home made whipped cream). Next came the main course.
Then came the barbecue sandwich overflowing with sauce, (Jack Daniels BBQ sauce no less) onto the counter and down her hand. Each bite was an intricate and carefully choreographed experience. With her eyes closed, she would open her mouth, taste each piece of food that entered her mouth. Smiling after each morsel moved across her tongue. She reached into her food pack for the next course.
There was the pudding cup. Stirring slowly to make sure all was smooth, she turned the spoon over and over inside the cup. Her hand moved slowly with spoon firmly in her grasp towards her mouth. Turning the spoon over as she put it into her mouth, the pudding fell gently onto her tongue. (did i mention that it was tapioca). She grinned, chewed slightly and swallowed. She now reached again for her food pack.
Her meal was followed by a Pepsi throwback. Shortly after finishing her meal and the Pepsi, she stood up and began doing the hustle (Throwback always takes her back and makes her want to hustle).
I had never experienced anything like this before. I had never thought of eating as a sensual experience. I now see food in a whole new light. Tasting each flavour has become a new experience for me.
Nights on our unit can be and always will be exciting. You never know what is going to happen or how things are going to turn out, but to each and everyone one of us, we love to watch Jen eat.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
kids say the darnedest things
Have any of you had something throw you for a loop? Do you have children that say things, and you have no idea where it came from? Have you been put in a situation, by a child, that makes you laugh when you should be angry? Well I am here to tell you that kids will say things that scare you, flabbergast you and just down right shock you.
My day always started early. I had young children to deal with. Today was no different.
We had gone to town in the morning for groceries. This in itself was something that, was as trying as any one person should endure. Stopping young children from putting everything sweet, expensive or unhealthy in the cart was a full time job. Telling them that these things were not something mommy was going to buy was like telling them the world had come to an end. I had a budget but, somehow upon arrival to the checkout counter, there were always items that I had no memory of putting in my cart. Kids will be kids.
After grocery shopping, we stopped at the sporting goods store to look at some new equipment including a new soccer ball. The boys were excited at the thought of getting a new soccer ball to play with. They now had a yard and a place to play that kept them from the street and the abundance of cars that travelled by our house daily.
They found the perfect ball. Not expensive, but a little pricey for what I thought we could afford. They both stood in front of me with the puppy dog eyes and tears running down their little faces, saying "please mommy please". Not much they would do got to me, except that.
Now the tears of small children can melt the strongest man, woman and certainly any mothers heart. Tears can crumble even the strongest of wills. These two standing in front of me looking like they did, made my heart hurt. "Of course we can get the ball, I said". Then there were smiles, giggles, jumping all over and hugs. I think of the happiness that ball caused and I smile every time. Off I went with our new purchase and two very happy little boys.
Now everything was going fine until that fateful afternoon. We had been eating lunch and talking about the things that we were going to do that afternoon. Off they ran with ball in hand. I was standing in the kitchen doing the lunch dishes and the boys were out in the yard playing with their new ball. I looked out the window and smiled at how happy they seemed to be with their new found game. A few minutes later I looked out to find them both gone from sight. Stretching out the window, they were no where to be found.
Then there was a large bang, and pop from the street, then a crash and bang at the front door. Wildly afraid I ran to the front of the house. Walking in through the front door were two little boys. As I sighed with relief, in seeing them alright, out of the mouth of my oldest, came something that took me by surprise. His exact words fail me now (its been some 30 odd years since the incident), but they went something like this, " That damn son of a b**** just ran over my new ball". He threw the ball down and stomped off crying. My youngest was in tears as well. I just stood there. I was dumb founded. What do you say? He had taken me by surprise.
How do you get angry at this. You want to tell them that the language is not appropriate, but at the same time you are upset by the fact that they are so devastated about what has just happened. Under my breath I started to laugh. Not letting them see the way this had affected me was hard. I had to leave the room. I knew I had to say something about his language, but I had to find some modicum of composure before trying. After getting my giggling under control, I went into the kitchen, where they were both sitting at the table with long sad faces. Again my heart hurt. At this point, it was not an option to say anything.
Now over the years, things have been said and punishments, reprimands or corrections have been made to improper language outbursts. This was not one of those times. The sadness of two little boys, heartbroken because some butt had just run over their brand new ball, was enough to make it impossible for me to scold them. We did however have that talk at a later date. They came to understand the need for little boys not to say bad things.
To this day, I think of that little boy stating how mad he was and I start to laugh. You see, those words were not his own, they had to have come from his "loving" mother's mouth at some time. From that day on, I tried very hard to watch what came out of my mouth because "kids say the darnedest things".
My day always started early. I had young children to deal with. Today was no different.
We had gone to town in the morning for groceries. This in itself was something that, was as trying as any one person should endure. Stopping young children from putting everything sweet, expensive or unhealthy in the cart was a full time job. Telling them that these things were not something mommy was going to buy was like telling them the world had come to an end. I had a budget but, somehow upon arrival to the checkout counter, there were always items that I had no memory of putting in my cart. Kids will be kids.
After grocery shopping, we stopped at the sporting goods store to look at some new equipment including a new soccer ball. The boys were excited at the thought of getting a new soccer ball to play with. They now had a yard and a place to play that kept them from the street and the abundance of cars that travelled by our house daily.
They found the perfect ball. Not expensive, but a little pricey for what I thought we could afford. They both stood in front of me with the puppy dog eyes and tears running down their little faces, saying "please mommy please". Not much they would do got to me, except that.
Now the tears of small children can melt the strongest man, woman and certainly any mothers heart. Tears can crumble even the strongest of wills. These two standing in front of me looking like they did, made my heart hurt. "Of course we can get the ball, I said". Then there were smiles, giggles, jumping all over and hugs. I think of the happiness that ball caused and I smile every time. Off I went with our new purchase and two very happy little boys.
Now everything was going fine until that fateful afternoon. We had been eating lunch and talking about the things that we were going to do that afternoon. Off they ran with ball in hand. I was standing in the kitchen doing the lunch dishes and the boys were out in the yard playing with their new ball. I looked out the window and smiled at how happy they seemed to be with their new found game. A few minutes later I looked out to find them both gone from sight. Stretching out the window, they were no where to be found.
Then there was a large bang, and pop from the street, then a crash and bang at the front door. Wildly afraid I ran to the front of the house. Walking in through the front door were two little boys. As I sighed with relief, in seeing them alright, out of the mouth of my oldest, came something that took me by surprise. His exact words fail me now (its been some 30 odd years since the incident), but they went something like this, " That damn son of a b**** just ran over my new ball". He threw the ball down and stomped off crying. My youngest was in tears as well. I just stood there. I was dumb founded. What do you say? He had taken me by surprise.
How do you get angry at this. You want to tell them that the language is not appropriate, but at the same time you are upset by the fact that they are so devastated about what has just happened. Under my breath I started to laugh. Not letting them see the way this had affected me was hard. I had to leave the room. I knew I had to say something about his language, but I had to find some modicum of composure before trying. After getting my giggling under control, I went into the kitchen, where they were both sitting at the table with long sad faces. Again my heart hurt. At this point, it was not an option to say anything.
Now over the years, things have been said and punishments, reprimands or corrections have been made to improper language outbursts. This was not one of those times. The sadness of two little boys, heartbroken because some butt had just run over their brand new ball, was enough to make it impossible for me to scold them. We did however have that talk at a later date. They came to understand the need for little boys not to say bad things.
To this day, I think of that little boy stating how mad he was and I start to laugh. You see, those words were not his own, they had to have come from his "loving" mother's mouth at some time. From that day on, I tried very hard to watch what came out of my mouth because "kids say the darnedest things".
The faces of my sister
There is a disease that has taken one and is afflicting another within my family. This horrible monster is Parkinson's Disease. I have lived with the fact that my grandfather Bert died with the disease. Now I have to deal with being told my sister, my younger sister, has it now.
I am not sure how many people know what happens when this disease takes over your life.
I was not aware of the things that go on in ones life until my sister was diagnosed with Parkinson's a number of years ago.
Sleep is not something looked forward to, like the rest of us. There is no rest. There are horrible dreams (drug induced). The movement does not stop just because your sleeping. Your limbs continually twitch, or worse than that they freeze in a position that causes intense pain. Walking in the morning can be next to impossible. Most of us get up and run to the bathroom in the morning, this is not an option for people with Parkinson's. Getting out of bed can take what seems forever. Getting their muscles to work in the morning is a ritual that takes time and patience.
Doing small tasks can be an effort. Most of us sit down to a meal and eat without problems. This can be a trying time. Between the spasms in the hands and trying to keep composure, eating can take forever. Food coming off the implement (forks are used because food falls off spoons) due to tremors cannot be controlled. Eating becomes an Olympic sport. I wish it was proper etiquette to use your fingers all the time, after all they came before forks and spoons.
I was in Vancouver a few years ago and got to spend time with Debbie at her store. The things I watched her accomplish, to this day, astonish me.
I sat and watched as my sister took the most mundane of articles in her shop and turned them into the most beautiful center piece I had ever seen. The one thing that I did not know, before that, was what kind of effort it took for her to accomplish that feat. I saw her take a flower, a piece of Styrofoam, some moss, a few leaves and sticks and turn it into a work of art. During this time, I saw her moving slower than usual. She would shift her weight from side to side. She would bend and straighten. Her smile began to change. I thought this was part of her looking at the piece she was designing, to make sure everything was as it was intended to be.
NO
All this was a painful dance that takes place every time she tries to do anything. It is part of living with Parkinson's. It is the effort that she has to put forward, to accomplish even the smallest thing. The constant movement that controls her life. As I watched her looking at the beautiful flower, she stopped and looked at the clock on the wall. "Damn, she said". She stopped what she was doing and headed for the counter on the other side of the room. She dug around and ducked under the counter for something. When she emerged, she had a container in her hand. It was a pill box. She smiled and said, it was past pill time.
She had been standing working and had forgot to take the pill that needs to be taken on time. Her hands were stiffening, her legs beginning to spasm and shake. She was unable to continue her talented art, until the movement stopped. Within just a short time, she resumed her wonderful work. I was upset at what I had just witnessed. Why should anyone that is so young, or for that fact anyone, have to endure this disease?
Deb wrote a poem, one of many (part of Feelings - the face of Parkinson's), that is posted on YouTube. This is what she wrote.
I cannot believe I have such a beautiful and talented sister. I have a sense of pride that takes my breath away. Your passion is evident in the way you show your feelings towards this disease. If I had, in my baby finger, the caring you show people with this disease, I would be the worlds greatest nurse. You make me more and more proud with each passing day. I wish there was some way to show you. I love you Deb.
I am not sure how many people know what happens when this disease takes over your life.
I was not aware of the things that go on in ones life until my sister was diagnosed with Parkinson's a number of years ago.
Sleep is not something looked forward to, like the rest of us. There is no rest. There are horrible dreams (drug induced). The movement does not stop just because your sleeping. Your limbs continually twitch, or worse than that they freeze in a position that causes intense pain. Walking in the morning can be next to impossible. Most of us get up and run to the bathroom in the morning, this is not an option for people with Parkinson's. Getting out of bed can take what seems forever. Getting their muscles to work in the morning is a ritual that takes time and patience.
Doing small tasks can be an effort. Most of us sit down to a meal and eat without problems. This can be a trying time. Between the spasms in the hands and trying to keep composure, eating can take forever. Food coming off the implement (forks are used because food falls off spoons) due to tremors cannot be controlled. Eating becomes an Olympic sport. I wish it was proper etiquette to use your fingers all the time, after all they came before forks and spoons.
I was in Vancouver a few years ago and got to spend time with Debbie at her store. The things I watched her accomplish, to this day, astonish me.
I sat and watched as my sister took the most mundane of articles in her shop and turned them into the most beautiful center piece I had ever seen. The one thing that I did not know, before that, was what kind of effort it took for her to accomplish that feat. I saw her take a flower, a piece of Styrofoam, some moss, a few leaves and sticks and turn it into a work of art. During this time, I saw her moving slower than usual. She would shift her weight from side to side. She would bend and straighten. Her smile began to change. I thought this was part of her looking at the piece she was designing, to make sure everything was as it was intended to be.
NO
All this was a painful dance that takes place every time she tries to do anything. It is part of living with Parkinson's. It is the effort that she has to put forward, to accomplish even the smallest thing. The constant movement that controls her life. As I watched her looking at the beautiful flower, she stopped and looked at the clock on the wall. "Damn, she said". She stopped what she was doing and headed for the counter on the other side of the room. She dug around and ducked under the counter for something. When she emerged, she had a container in her hand. It was a pill box. She smiled and said, it was past pill time.
She had been standing working and had forgot to take the pill that needs to be taken on time. Her hands were stiffening, her legs beginning to spasm and shake. She was unable to continue her talented art, until the movement stopped. Within just a short time, she resumed her wonderful work. I was upset at what I had just witnessed. Why should anyone that is so young, or for that fact anyone, have to endure this disease?
Deb wrote a poem, one of many (part of Feelings - the face of Parkinson's), that is posted on YouTube. This is what she wrote.
No sleep
the darkness envelopes like a blanket
starts to turn to light
to look Parkinson's in
each face once again
by Debbie Hucul
I cannot believe I have such a beautiful and talented sister. I have a sense of pride that takes my breath away. Your passion is evident in the way you show your feelings towards this disease. If I had, in my baby finger, the caring you show people with this disease, I would be the worlds greatest nurse. You make me more and more proud with each passing day. I wish there was some way to show you. I love you Deb.
I AM SO PROUD TO BE YOUR SISTER
Friday, April 8, 2011
Vacation
Vacation, what is that? Who invented vacation? Why do we think that, while not going to a job everyday, we need to be doing something? Where is it written that working twice as hard on vacation, as at work, is manditory? Everyone I know says, "I had to come back to work to get some rest". My story is no different.
My vacation started out slow. Not much to do but clean the house, clean the garage, start a garden, clean the yard, burn leaves, build a fence, plant the garden and start the deck. All in a span of 10 days.
Well my house is a disaster area. Due to the fact that by the end of the day, after my list of things to do, my enthusiasm for cleaning my house was non existant. My dogs of course were no help, bringing in every dead thing they could find in the yard. Half a snake, two dead moles(babies of course), half of a bird and about 100 feathers(some nest fell and ended up on my back patio). Now the removal of these treasures, was something else. Rudy, my youngest dog, thinks keep away is something that mom wants to play. So to get anything from him is a marathon in itself. He runs and does not hear his name being screamed, or at least he pretends not to hear(just like kids). Once you get the loving gift away from him, and deposit it in the trash or outside again, he spends his time scratching at the trash bin or door, hoping it will somehow appear again.
Now Bear, my other dog, is something else all together. He wanders around outside without a care in the world. You turn to see a noise that has occured, and this mild mannered dog(who never moves above the speed of a snail) is GONE. Not sure where he goes, but you can spend an hour looking for him, without a gilmpse, only to come back to the house to find him sitting on the step waiting to get in. Then come the stupid questions "Where have you been"? Like he is going to answer you. Another morning shot.
I am going to plant a garden. Make it bigger than last year. The fresh vegetables will be grand. My garden is in after three truck loads of dirt. After some thought, this was kind of stupid since I have 13 acres, 10 of which are covered in plowed dirt and would not have taken a day to load and unload. Over a period of three days, I figured I unloaded a total of one ton of dirt, manure and cement blocks. My garden is not that big, but when you have no where to plant, you build one. I spent all of one day doing nothing but stringing and planting all the wonderful seeds, only to have to entire garden covered in dead leaves due to a 50 mile an hour wind that happened later that day. Leaf picking was the next project to add to my list.
My husband has wanted to put up a fence. Your on "vacation" so you can help me. This would give our little wandering four legged babies a place to play. No more wandering off in the blink of an eye. Little did I know what putting up a fence entailed.
I have put up fences before, but had always pounded posts into the ground. This was a chain link fence, which involves digging post holes 22 inches deep and pouring cement to hold the posts upright in the holes. The project started early one morning. Now post holes are not that big a deal, when you have a few to do, but we needed 16. OH MY GOD. I did not know I even had those muscles still. Michael did get a post hole auger for mechanical support. Well this thing looked like someone had put handles on a weed whacker. The handles were covered with black electricians tape and it shook and wobbled all over the place. You still had to dig out the base of each hole when it was done, mainly because, what it dug out fell back in the hole when you pulled it up. 16 posts. We got all but one in. They are straight and will hold up the sturdiest of fence material. Not sure when that will happen, but THE POSTS ARE IN.
Now my flower beds have been neglected for the past year. Easy to find, as the only thing in the middle of my yard is a huge pile of 3 foot cooch grass. Fire I say, Fire. Out comes the water hose. Out comes the lighter. Well this would have been fine, if there had not been a 30 mile an hour wind. The flower bed went up in flames and burned in about 3 seconds. Good thing there was no dry grass on the east side of the bed, or we would have had a real problem. Not sure where my head was, thinking that day was a good one to burn anything. Anyway, other than a few scorched bricks and plants(by the way they survived), the garden can be seen for what it is now, a flower garden.
All in all, I had a pretty productive vacation. Did not sleep in, did not get my house cleaned, did not clean the garage. But I did however, do that one thing that I said I wanted to do during my vacation. I spent most of the time I was away from work with my wonderful husband. We did most of what was accomplished, TOGETHER. We worked side by side to finish all the things outside that we had tried for months to accomplish. We did have a good time together. Only one thing missing now.
Still no sign of the deck. Maybe next vacation.
My vacation started out slow. Not much to do but clean the house, clean the garage, start a garden, clean the yard, burn leaves, build a fence, plant the garden and start the deck. All in a span of 10 days.
Well my house is a disaster area. Due to the fact that by the end of the day, after my list of things to do, my enthusiasm for cleaning my house was non existant. My dogs of course were no help, bringing in every dead thing they could find in the yard. Half a snake, two dead moles(babies of course), half of a bird and about 100 feathers(some nest fell and ended up on my back patio). Now the removal of these treasures, was something else. Rudy, my youngest dog, thinks keep away is something that mom wants to play. So to get anything from him is a marathon in itself. He runs and does not hear his name being screamed, or at least he pretends not to hear(just like kids). Once you get the loving gift away from him, and deposit it in the trash or outside again, he spends his time scratching at the trash bin or door, hoping it will somehow appear again.
Now Bear, my other dog, is something else all together. He wanders around outside without a care in the world. You turn to see a noise that has occured, and this mild mannered dog(who never moves above the speed of a snail) is GONE. Not sure where he goes, but you can spend an hour looking for him, without a gilmpse, only to come back to the house to find him sitting on the step waiting to get in. Then come the stupid questions "Where have you been"? Like he is going to answer you. Another morning shot.
I am going to plant a garden. Make it bigger than last year. The fresh vegetables will be grand. My garden is in after three truck loads of dirt. After some thought, this was kind of stupid since I have 13 acres, 10 of which are covered in plowed dirt and would not have taken a day to load and unload. Over a period of three days, I figured I unloaded a total of one ton of dirt, manure and cement blocks. My garden is not that big, but when you have no where to plant, you build one. I spent all of one day doing nothing but stringing and planting all the wonderful seeds, only to have to entire garden covered in dead leaves due to a 50 mile an hour wind that happened later that day. Leaf picking was the next project to add to my list.
My husband has wanted to put up a fence. Your on "vacation" so you can help me. This would give our little wandering four legged babies a place to play. No more wandering off in the blink of an eye. Little did I know what putting up a fence entailed.
I have put up fences before, but had always pounded posts into the ground. This was a chain link fence, which involves digging post holes 22 inches deep and pouring cement to hold the posts upright in the holes. The project started early one morning. Now post holes are not that big a deal, when you have a few to do, but we needed 16. OH MY GOD. I did not know I even had those muscles still. Michael did get a post hole auger for mechanical support. Well this thing looked like someone had put handles on a weed whacker. The handles were covered with black electricians tape and it shook and wobbled all over the place. You still had to dig out the base of each hole when it was done, mainly because, what it dug out fell back in the hole when you pulled it up. 16 posts. We got all but one in. They are straight and will hold up the sturdiest of fence material. Not sure when that will happen, but THE POSTS ARE IN.
Now my flower beds have been neglected for the past year. Easy to find, as the only thing in the middle of my yard is a huge pile of 3 foot cooch grass. Fire I say, Fire. Out comes the water hose. Out comes the lighter. Well this would have been fine, if there had not been a 30 mile an hour wind. The flower bed went up in flames and burned in about 3 seconds. Good thing there was no dry grass on the east side of the bed, or we would have had a real problem. Not sure where my head was, thinking that day was a good one to burn anything. Anyway, other than a few scorched bricks and plants(by the way they survived), the garden can be seen for what it is now, a flower garden.
All in all, I had a pretty productive vacation. Did not sleep in, did not get my house cleaned, did not clean the garage. But I did however, do that one thing that I said I wanted to do during my vacation. I spent most of the time I was away from work with my wonderful husband. We did most of what was accomplished, TOGETHER. We worked side by side to finish all the things outside that we had tried for months to accomplish. We did have a good time together. Only one thing missing now.
Still no sign of the deck. Maybe next vacation.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Going for parts
Have you ever waited endlessly for your husband to return from a parts run? Have any of the women reading this ever gone to a parts store? Have you sent him for a piece of pipe, only to have him return with a truck load of items? If you want it done quickly, go yourself. Save your sanity and take a trip. Go see what they do there.
One day turned into a week that turned into a month. I remember sending my husband to the parts store, only to have to call and ask where he had gone. I had figured a short half hour trip at the most. After 2 hours I got worried. The answer I got when I called and asked if he was ok was, "Of course I'm OK. I just went for parts". When I asked what was taking so long, his response was, " you in a hurry"?
So as a time saver, next trip, I went myself. What an eye opener.
The drive took approximately 5 minutes. The walk into the store took about 1 minute. The wait inside the store was endless. I could never understand why, in a parts store, there were stools in front of the counter. Now I know.
The stools are there, because no one wants to go first. They all want to sit and have coffee (the pot in the store would make any coffee company proud). They talk and compare notes about what projects they have on the go, what projects they are planning and the shitty way so and so did the one down the street. Everyone has an opinion. Not much work gets done there. The guys behind the counter are all moving and look busy.
Now I don't have a lot of patience for lazy and slow people. If I want something, I want it now, not tomorrow. Most of the men in the store, are more than willing to let a "lady" go first. The only problem with that is you have to get an employee to stop and help you. Like I said, they are all moving. Not sure doing what, but they don't stop and ask if they can help you, so it must be important. I did see one of them bring a small bag of parts to the counter while I was STANDING there and lay it on the counter. It just sat there the whole time I was there.
When they finally do stop, or you say you need some help, everyone stops what they are doing and stares at you. I guess your not suppose to ask for help. (must be that guy thing again, I guess it crosses over to parts just like directions). They all listened intently to what I had to say, then the parts guy disappeared into the back for what seemed like forever, returning with the items I needed. "Do you want to put this on Mike's account? he asked". What account? I did not know we had an account. How did they know who I was? Do I have Mike's wife on my forehead? Who are these people and how do they know Mike? Which Mike? No, I have cash. Getting a little paranoid I paid for my items and quickly headed out the door.
On the way home, I tried to rationalize what had just happened.
I have come to the conclusion, that since most men don't gossip, they need an outlet. The parts, electrical, plumbing, automotive and other "MEN" type stores are their information highway. The stools allow them to get in touch with other men who need information too. The employees know this and check now and then at the counter for parts lists that are slipped to them without the customer asking. Then a grouping of the items appears by the register for pickup.
It is a strange way these males have of getting information and items all in the same trip. Now don't put them down for their time frame. They all wear watches, or most of them, but they are only used so the owner knows when lunch is and the work day ends. They don't know any better. It has been this way for 100's of years. You just need to look at any gathering of the male species that has taken place throughout time to see what I mean.
So the next time you need parts of any kind, remember, if your in a hurry go yourself. If you have the time to spend waiting for your items, send a male. He may come home with some juicy information that you can pass to your friends. We all win in the end by just "Going for parts".
One day turned into a week that turned into a month. I remember sending my husband to the parts store, only to have to call and ask where he had gone. I had figured a short half hour trip at the most. After 2 hours I got worried. The answer I got when I called and asked if he was ok was, "Of course I'm OK. I just went for parts". When I asked what was taking so long, his response was, " you in a hurry"?
So as a time saver, next trip, I went myself. What an eye opener.
The drive took approximately 5 minutes. The walk into the store took about 1 minute. The wait inside the store was endless. I could never understand why, in a parts store, there were stools in front of the counter. Now I know.
The stools are there, because no one wants to go first. They all want to sit and have coffee (the pot in the store would make any coffee company proud). They talk and compare notes about what projects they have on the go, what projects they are planning and the shitty way so and so did the one down the street. Everyone has an opinion. Not much work gets done there. The guys behind the counter are all moving and look busy.
Now I don't have a lot of patience for lazy and slow people. If I want something, I want it now, not tomorrow. Most of the men in the store, are more than willing to let a "lady" go first. The only problem with that is you have to get an employee to stop and help you. Like I said, they are all moving. Not sure doing what, but they don't stop and ask if they can help you, so it must be important. I did see one of them bring a small bag of parts to the counter while I was STANDING there and lay it on the counter. It just sat there the whole time I was there.
When they finally do stop, or you say you need some help, everyone stops what they are doing and stares at you. I guess your not suppose to ask for help. (must be that guy thing again, I guess it crosses over to parts just like directions). They all listened intently to what I had to say, then the parts guy disappeared into the back for what seemed like forever, returning with the items I needed. "Do you want to put this on Mike's account? he asked". What account? I did not know we had an account. How did they know who I was? Do I have Mike's wife on my forehead? Who are these people and how do they know Mike? Which Mike? No, I have cash. Getting a little paranoid I paid for my items and quickly headed out the door.
On the way home, I tried to rationalize what had just happened.
I have come to the conclusion, that since most men don't gossip, they need an outlet. The parts, electrical, plumbing, automotive and other "MEN" type stores are their information highway. The stools allow them to get in touch with other men who need information too. The employees know this and check now and then at the counter for parts lists that are slipped to them without the customer asking. Then a grouping of the items appears by the register for pickup.
It is a strange way these males have of getting information and items all in the same trip. Now don't put them down for their time frame. They all wear watches, or most of them, but they are only used so the owner knows when lunch is and the work day ends. They don't know any better. It has been this way for 100's of years. You just need to look at any gathering of the male species that has taken place throughout time to see what I mean.
So the next time you need parts of any kind, remember, if your in a hurry go yourself. If you have the time to spend waiting for your items, send a male. He may come home with some juicy information that you can pass to your friends. We all win in the end by just "Going for parts".
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