Sunday, November 15, 2009

The Birds and the Bees....and Ava

While watching Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaur's, a scene comes up where two "long necked" dinosaurs wrap their necks around each other to make a heart shape. Ava saw that and said "Aww! Look! They're making love!!"

Guess I don't have to give her "the talk" after all!

Friday, November 06, 2009

Homeschooling Mom Answers Honestly

The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List
by Deborah Markus

1 Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2 Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3 Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4 Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5 If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6 Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7 We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8 Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9 Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10 We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11 Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12 If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13 Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14 Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15 Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16 Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17 Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18 If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19 Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20 Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21 Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24 Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25 Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, (don't say anything at all!)

Friday, October 23, 2009


Okay, as if that isn't COMPLETELY obvious. This is about something other than my mental state, however.

I've spent 12 years with this thought/drive/idea pounding away in my brain, and after all the "where are we going to be living next month" has fizzled away (after 10 short years) and we have our own place- I'm ready to get this plan off the ground. Just don't know where to go next.

For the past 10 years we've lived with most of our stuff in storage, so we kept buying clothes that we probably already had (but couldn't get to because they were in storage). Needless to say, we have a TON of kids clothes. And this is AFTER having sorted through them 10-15 times. I've saved the nicest ones hoping to open a "Foster Closet". A place where parents who receive a child/children at the spur of the moment or in the middle of the night, can come and find some clothing that will tide them over until they are able to get the money to purchase them something. I also wanted a place where they could borrow things like: high chairs, car seats, playpens, etc. so they wouldn't have to use their own money for a child that might stay a day, or might stay a year. I have longed to be a foster parent, but that just isn't in the cards for us yet. We are hoping that the Lord will prepare the way for us so that we can share our home, until then, I will do all that I can.

I have no idea how I would go about starting a not-for profit group, of if that's what this is really called. A great friend of mine is helping and has the same sincere drive I have. She has been blessed to be a foster parent and I have seen her, as well as other friends, struggle to find clothes at the last minute. There have even been children that come to homes that have to have all of their clothing and belonging they brought with them burned because of the meth and other drugs that have so permeated their clothing. This is NOT a child's fault, and they should NOT have to wear ill-fitting, holey, stained, old-fasioned clothes just because their parents lack commen sense.

Please help me find a way to make this possible. Pass this on to whoever you may know who might know someone to help. I am merely an instrument in the hands of the Lord, but I am not enough. I need someone to share in my passion that has some idea of what I need to do next.

God bless, and feel free to contact me through e-mail as well.



Thursday, October 15, 2009

Keeper of the Spork

Overheard at Grandma's house (apparently there are different rules while on vacation):

Aidan: Kate you have to sit at the little table!

Kate: Why?

Aidan: Because I have the spork!

Kate: I don't want to sit at the little table!

Aidan: Well, when I have the spork you have to sit at the little table. And I have the spork.

Kate: What?!

Aidan: Everyone knows when I have the spork you have to sit at the little table. And you know what I have? THE SPORK!


Friday, October 02, 2009

On being over-protective

I keep ending up in this same conversation with several of my friends when the topic inevitably rolls around to my homeschooling my kids. "Well, don't you think you're being over-protective. They need to be exposed to other kids, their different language, values, beliefs, etc. You must not believe that you've actually INSTILLED those values you talk so much about, if you're not even willing to let them PROVE to you that they can stick to them." Okay, that's not the direct conversation, but a large portion of it is true, and the rest is exactly what she was thinking. I know, I'm a professional mind reader- just ask my kids.

I've been thinking a lot about it, and this is the best scenario that I've come up with. I'm still working on it, so maybe it won't pan out as well written, as it sounded in my head:

When we're pregnant, we have this wonderful life growing inside of us. We do everything we can to protect that life: eat right, excercise, avoid harmful substances- ANYTHING we can do to ensure that this little being knows that we are doing our very best to give him/her the best life they deserve. While some people may get tired of being pregnant around month 6 or 7 they stick with it. Why? Well, mostly because it's not an option, but let me give you a "what if". What if it was an option? We know that there is this wonderful modern world of medicine that gives this baby upward of 80-90% chance of turning out just fine. We've done our part, put our time in, and when things looked like they could hold their own well enough, we quit hoping that all we did was good enough for a good outcome. Do we do that? Not if we're in our right mind we don't!

That's kind of how I feel about the whole "over-protective" subject. Yes, I could have let my kids continue to go to public school and be exposed to the things that are being forced into their faces, jammed into their ears, and imprinted on their minds. Hey! I would LOVE to have the daytime all to myself! But, I want to give them EVERY MOMENT I CAN to surround them with the love, values, beliefs, virtues and all things Godly that I can. Every day, every hour that baby is in the womb helps it grow a little bit stronger. Is there a time when you can't keep them like that any longer? Absolutely, just like birth. And when that time comes, I will know that I did everything possible within my being to arm them with a sense of who they are and what they stand for. There is a reason these kids were saved for the last days. They are being raised to become kings and queens and to fight with all their might. I doubt there has ever been a king who thought they were taught too much about how to prepare for battle and lead a nation. I venture to say there were many who wish their Mother's had taught them even one day more.

:::Off my soapbox now:::

Disclaimer: Do I believe everyone should homeschool? Not even a little bit. It's right for our family, though. Don't question my intentions or you'll see Mother Bear.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

What I AM doing VS should be doing

I need to take a lesson form my girls (Mia and Ava). They gave each other "facials and manicures"- doesn't it look relaxing?

Well, I played hookey tonight while Scott and the kids went over to a friends house to have "fun" (for Enoch that included burning things, for Daddy that meant food and adult conversation, for Ava that meant running around without her shoes on, for Kate that meant more animals, and for Mimi that meants someone else to listen to her talk...Aidan liked a little of all of it, mostly the burning and the food, though), while poor 'old' me stayed home. Scott made sure to remind me to try and have a good time in the quiet house with no one to bother me. I'm so glad he knows when I need some time. Perhaps the fist-fulls of my hair laying on the carpet gave him a hint!

It almost seems rediculous, though. I spent Wednesday through Saturday night in bed, high as a kite, trying to get rid of more stones (yes, I know, I'm an over-achiever), and yet that doesn't seem to count as quiet time by myself. Why is that? I'm even MEDICATED! That should at least count for something! The only problem is, I've found out that as soon as I get up and around, the house usually looks like 5 kids have gotten ahold of it, forgotten they don't live in a barn/pigsty/land fill, and left it to it's own demise. Poor Daddy- such a trooper, I'm pretty sure that HE'S the one that should get all the compassion for these kidney stones, they give him a HECK of a lot more trouble than they do me (and he gets NO medication).

So, as I was saying before I totally got off track...I'm sitting here at home trying to figure out what to do...should do, that is...I SHOULD:

-figure out why the basement smells this way
-find where all of my cups and spoons have disappeared to
-confiscate all of our books that Enoch has stashed under his bed (and in the ceiling and in the mattress, and under the bathroom sink, and in the cubby where the wall used to be, etc.)
-find my other 26 pairs of tweezers in the house
-put away all the clothes that are clean before I forget which one is which and have to wash them all over again because they got mixed together
-put all of the outgrown clothes in one large tub (instead of 6 misc. cardboard boxes scattered around the room
-do some more rearranging on the school books/room/stuff
-find my bedroom floor again
-update my blog...OH WAIT! CHECK!
-sit outside and enjoy a quiet evening alone (just me and the skeeters)
-try and figure out what exactly it IS that is stuck in the carpet

and then of course there's the: bake a cake, make my bed, Febreeze my house, all those things normal people do....

So what did I spend 1.5 hours of my time doing? Playing the WII playground game. I'm almost too ashamed to hold my head up. I haven't let the kids play in ages, and am usually on their case when they do get to play for being on for more than 20 minutes. So, if you could, let's just keep this between the two of us. I'll try and get to the rest of that stuff before you come over to visit (just make sure you give me a good week's notice)!

(By the way, I kicked butt on the Playground game.)

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Aidan's Baptism

It's a little late coming (like a month and a half) but I'm FINALLY blogging about Aidan's baptism. Here's what happened in Aidan's words:

I remember that when I got baptized, I felt the spirit really strong. When I got in my white outfit I was really warm. We sang "I love to be baptized", "I love to see the temple", and "I'm trying to be like Jesus". While we were there we had to wait a little while because there wasn't a second witness. So we just waited until Brother Neilson came from his garage sale. Christy, Grandma, Grandpa, Brother Neilson, Sister Neilson, Star, Chris, Meghan, Micheal, Heather, Cayman, Malachi, and my family all came to my baptism. The funniest part was when I was taking my clothes off after my baptism I found a tick on my shoulder. That was probably a holy tick. That's all I remember.

In Mom's words:

My little boy's growing up! He looked like a giant white gumby...but a SPIRITUAL white gumby! Due to lack of communication between "someone" and "nobody" we didn't have enough priesthood to witness the baptism so we waited about an hour. Turned out to be perfect timing...we were able to have our closest friends be with us! We had a wonderful time.

4 down and dunked, 1 to go.

Friday, August 14, 2009

New School Year

Well, it's only been a month since I last posted, guess it's time to update once goes....

We finally semi-finished setting up our school room (thanks to some very selfless sisters in our branch). We had an 'unofficial' school day (that lasted about 1 1/2 hours) then, and 'official' school day that lasted most of the day. If any of you are on facebook, you know a little of what went on that first morning, but for those of you who don't, here you go:

Everyone was up and dressed with their chores done by 9:30- we usually want it done by 9, but I won't be arguing on the first day of school. They had all of their school supplies set out and ready to go. We began with a prayer (that is always desperately needed), and then began our copy work. Ava works on letters to copy, Aidan and Kate have a paragraph (Kate's in cursive), Enoch and Amelia have two paragraphs that they have to complete in cursive. As soon as I mentioned the "C" word (cursive) to Enoch, I heard/felt this load rolling MOOOAAAANNNN. "I haaaaaa...I mean I can't staaaaand cursive!" We've been doing the same thing for a year, but apparently he's forgotten after having a few weeks off. Well, Aidan caught onto the groaning bug a little, but decided just to buck-up and do it anyway. While Kate and Amelia finished up their copywork, then math, then grammar, then reading...Aidan was trying to finish up his last sentence, and Enoch was....I have no idea WHAT Enoch was doing. Definately NOT his copywork. Aidan finally finished up and did his grammar and math as well. Enoch....well, Enoch was still just....not doing his copy work.

As I gathered Enoch, Amelia, Kate, Aidan, and Ava to go to the park, I asked Enoch how he was doing. He said he was just a few words from the end. It was now 12:30. Yes, folks- 3 1/2 HOURS to do two paragraphs. Unfortunately, he had to stay home to finish all of his other work.

I'm hoping that the coming school days will show a much greater improvement, or it's going to be a LOOOOOOOOOOONG school year!

Friday, July 17, 2009

Accidental Truth

We were working on cleaning up downstairs, when Ava came up to me, her underpants drooping around her ankles, and said "I went to the potty on the floor in front of the toilet on purpose." And then just looked at me. Oooooookay. "Do you mean on accident?" I asked. "Um...hmmmm...yeah." she replied.

Sometimes the truth just happens to slip out.

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Lock me up

I had a urology appointment today. I just can't seem to stay away from these people. Well, as usual, your first item of business is to do your business. In a cup, that is. So I go into the restroom...uh...finish....put my cup in the little smurf door, wash my hands and then try to get out of the bathroom. Yes, I said try. I had locked it, which seemed pretty natural to me. Apparently the lock wasn't working quite right. So, there I am standing at the door with my paper towel (not a snowball's chance in **** I would touch that doorknob with my bare hands) desperately trying to get out. It was SO bad I had to REMOVE the paper towel (of course I had to wash my hands again before I left) to get as much force as possible, but it just wasn't moving. I considered knocking on the door. Then I considered sticking my face through the smurf door to ask for help. Then I just sat back down on the toilet. Maybe they would just send someone in after me. Would they even notice I was gone? As if my life doesn't tend to be humiliating enough. After much prayer (I'm pretty sure people praying on toilets get moved near the top of the list in Heavenly Father's eyes), I tried several more times and finally got it opened. After washing my hands a few more times, I was finally free....kind of. Then I had to actually GO to my appointment. My 'bloodpressure is a little higher than normal', the nurse said. 'Have I been under any undue stress lately?' Quite recently, as a matter of fact.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

And now you know....the rest of the story

A little later, Q'Deisha comes up to me and asks if I got a plastic water jug (any of you who have been to the hospital anytime recently will know what I'm talking about). I said that there had been one sitting on my side table when I came in. She threw her hands up, all frustrated and said “MAN! They din't give me ANYTHING when I come in here. No water cup, none of 'em bath thingy's either! That really pisses me off!” (Apparently the $300 worth of food she ate doesn't count for anything) She stomps out of the room, her IV pole wheeling along behind her. Next thing you know, here she is with her arms LOADED down with a drug store beauty aisle. Bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, gels, creams, cotton balls, q-tips, YOU NAME IT she had it. She dumped them all out on her bed and asked if I wanted anything.(Besides a new roommate?) “They's hardly ever lock it. You can just get 'em yourself at that one closet.” (The one marked “authorized personnel only”?) “Nah. I think I'll be fine.”

10 minutes later, as my medicine is starting to kick in again, and I'm starting to forget I'm rooming with a psych ward overflow, she comes over to my window and said, “Get up and look at this!” “I'm really not feeling....” “No, I mean GET UP. Look over there. See that? That there car, right over there?” “Yup.” I replied, not even getting my glasses on. “I see...that one, right?”, I say, pointing indiscriminately at the parking lot as a whole. “Yeah! That's right. That there's my car. I need my cell phone out of it.” She stared at me as if I was going to jump right up and offer to go get it for her. “Ooookay.” I responded. “I NEED my phone.” she repeated again, looking at me. “Oh.” What, are you KIDDING ME? I almost offered to go get it, if for no other reason than to get away from her. Apparently she took the hint, and went to her bed, sitting on the side facing me. I turned over to avoid her, but she didn't get the hint. I doubt she'd take a hint from anything less than a baseball bat. “I'm going to go down there.” she finally said, her eyes boring into the back of my head. “Umm.” I replied as unenthusiastically as I could. “You won't tell nobody will you?” Apparently she didn't think the hospital gown and IV pole dragging along behind her would give her away. “I'm sleeping.” I said back. She left and was back just a few minutes later. They “caught her” she said. Oh good. They caught her and brought her BACK. Isn't there like a hospital “holding cell” you could keep her in, just till I'm released, maybe? Well, not one to be defeated, she “tried again”. She had been gone about an hour when the nurse came into the room for, meds. Oh, sweet medication, if I ever needed you, it was this hospitalization! “Where'd Q'Deishe go?” the nurse asked. This was the same nurse that laughed under her breath at my earlier situation, so I wasn't about to help her out, either. “Who? What? I have no idea what you're talking about. I need my pain meds. And my nausea medicine.” “Do you know where she went?” the nurse continued (Besides off the deep end), “HM.” was all I replied. “She does this every time she comes in” A-HA! So she IS a “frequent flayer” and they probably HAVE seen her pull this stuff on her other roommates. Man, must be a slow day at the nurse's station to need this entertainment. A few moments later I hear over the hospital intercom “Q'Deisha blah blah...Please return to your room” No, really, take your time...days if necessary.

Well, about 20 minutes later Q'Deisha came back inside and over to my side of the bed. She CLOSED the curtain separating our beds, however she was still on my side. “Man, there was this security guard who don't know what he talkin' about. He thinks he saw me all goin to take a smoke, but he don' know WHAT he talkin' about. Man! I just going to get my cell phone and he all callin' up to the nurses station like I been' doin' something wrong! Hey, smell my hands. I'm right handed, so if I smoked, I'd smoked 'em with this hand, they don't smell like smoke do they?” she demanded shoving her right hand under my nose. I've had a great fear of smelling hands after having several kids shoving their “just down their pants” hands under my nose. I wasn't too thrilled to be smelling hers either. “Nope. They don't smell like smoke.” I said. She seemed satisfied. “See! I's told 'em! Smell these too!” she said, obviously feeling more confident, and shoving her left hand under my nose. “OH YEAH! Those smell like smoke!” I replied. “Well, he couldn've seen that I was smokin' and he has NO RIGHT to blame me for smokin' we he DON'T KNOW if I was smokin' or NOT!” She threw the curtain back with all of it's maddening screeching (now becoming one of her trademark moves) and starts SCREAMING at no one about how unjustly she's being treated. She picked her phone up and called...someone...and starts ranting and raving about how they're blaming her for smoking when they don't even know if she was...blah..blah...blah (or I should say BLAH!!!!BLAH!!!!BLAH!!!! which was more like it). I mean she was SCREAMING at this point. She called the nurses in and was crying and ranting and demanding to see her doctor about this injustice. In the meantime, I was laying in my bed preparing my simple, but effective speech, and getting my nerves up for when she asked me if she was out smoking. I was all ready “Absolutely you were. Told me where you were going, and even had me smell your hands when you got back. Smooooooking. Yep, you sure were.” Apparently, I had enough drugs in my system to be brave and truthful. Unfortunately, she never gave me the chance. She called her doctor in (who ever knew that there were doctors without spines out there?) who after listening to her rant and rave for over ½ hour, agreed to let her go outside for a smoke break three times a day. Was that enough? Ohhhhh no, now she wanted 4 smoke breaks, and they had to be at least an hour long because it took her almost 15 minutes for her just to get downstairs. (Well, yeah, if your sneaking around trying not to get caught with an IV pole attached- maaaaybe). The spineless doctor said fine, and Q'Deisha went back to bed where she promptly called the nurse in and demanded more pain and nausea medication.

The final night and day was definitely the kicker. I finally figured out that Q'Deisha didn't like the fan. So, I had the janitors bring up the biggest baddest fan they could find and I blasted it on high the entire time. (Had to ask for a few extra blankets and suffered mild hypothermia, but COMPLETELY worth it). She FINALLY kept the curtains closed! Well, little ole' curtains aren't about to keep someone like Q'Deisha from doing what SHE wanted to do. Around 2 in the morning I woke up to what I thought was a nurse putting more pain medicine into my IV port. Low and behold! It's Q'Deisha messing with my IV tubing!!! Oh yes, my friends. I wake up to see Dr. Kevorkian checkin' to see if I'm ready to meet my maker. “What are you doing?” I asked, rather nicely for someone who just discovered someone else doing what she was doing..which was....what? “Unnnnhhhhh..I'm just fixin' yo tubing. It's all messed up.” I grabbed my IV tubing and said. “It's fine. I'll have a nurse check on it.” I said pushing the nurse button a million times. Well, by the time the nurse finally made it into the room I was asleep again, and by the time I woke up the nurse was in the room with the curtain opened again and Q'Deisha just sittin' in bed smilin'. “You can use lotion in yo hair if you don' have no conditioner, right?” The nurse and I just looked at each other. “Uh. No.” was the nurse's reply. Was this girl for real? “Oh, I jus did and it worked out fine!” I kept trying to get the nurse's attention to tell her about the night before, but no luck. Now I know how a hostage must feel when they go into a convenience store and they try to get someone's attention without getting the kidnapper's attention.

About 15 minutes after the nurse left, my monitor started beeping saying that my IV fluid was low. I pressed the nurse's button (now not expecting a response for anything less than ½ hour) and hit the silent button. It went off a few more times, and I just kept hitting the silent button. It wasn't bothering me, but apparently it was bothering Q'Deisha. She finally gets out of bed in this HUGE HUFF, comes over to my IV computer monitor and starts PRESSING BUTTONS. “Here. Just do this * beep * and then this and this * beep beep beeeeeeep *” ”It's FINE. IT'S FINE. THAT'S OKAY” “Hey. I do this all the time, jus let me...” “NOPE. I'm oooookay. Thanks anyway. Yep, I bet you do. At's okay” Now. I'm not a swearing person. But the only word that kept creeping up into my mind has to do with H, E and two hockey sticks. As in: I'm in ____, where the ____ is the nurse, why the ____ are they keeping me with her....and so on and so forth. I'm sure you get my drift.

Needless to say, I was feeling MUCH better by the doctor's rounds that morning, begging to go home. I knew that I had a much better chance at surviving there than I did in the hospital. About 20 minutes before getting ready to leave, the nurse came in to tell me that they were moving Q'Deisha into another room. WOW!! SO SOON? I wondered. I told the nurses all about the previous nights attempts on my life and the other “incidents”. She just rolled her eyes and said, “Yep. She's in here all the time doing stuff like that.” WHAT A REASSURING THOUGHT!! So, to all of you who might need medical care, I highly recommend avoiding Lutheran Hospital. Or at least Q'Deisha's room.

And so so ends this weeks episode of....these are the crazy days of our lives.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The Asylum Part I

I wasn't originally slated to go to the loony bin, but I'm pretty sure that's where I ended up based on my roommate. Here's the story:

When I first arrived, my roommate was a lovely woman In her early 100s with coke bottle glasses and very little movement. We got along quite well. However, things quickly changed on day 2 when she went home and in come Q'Deisha (we'll call her).

I should have known from the beginning it was going to be interesting, but little could I ever expect what was about to come....

As soon as she was sliding into bed she asked me for my menu. I was happy to oblige, and handed it over. She then called down to the cafeteria and ordered a meal fit for....well a BUFFET. I'm pretty sure the call would have been shorter if she just would have ordered one of everything. After she hangs up, she looks at me and says “How old are you?” I said (quickly doing the math), “35”. “Good.” She responded. Good what? I wondered. “Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked. “Nope.” I replied, hitting my narc button a few more times. “Awww. Too bad.” Apparently we wouldn't be smoking buddies.

Well, her banquet came up a short time later, and apparently it wasn't quite up to snuff. She started arguing, quite loudly, with the poor old lady that came up to deliver it. “WHY would I just order PLAIN English muffins? NO ONE orders PLAIN English muffins. I AXED for JELLY and BUTTER wit' dem muffins! Why can't nobody get these things RIGHT?!!! (Gee, perhaps because it was #48 on a list of 73 items you ordered so quickly they couldn't keep up with you. And, hey, I'd order a whole boat load of plain English muffins if I could cram them all into your mouth at one time just to get you to shut your.....muffin hole.)

Apparently, she sent the poor lady back down to get some jelly and butter, and while she's stuffing her...muffin hole the nurse walks in. IMMEDIATELY she begins “axing” the nurse for some pain medicine, and then, while she's STUFFING HER FACE WITH FOOD tells her that she wants her nausea medicine!! I heard that and I needed MY nausea medicine.

Well, I'm settling down, starting to feel the effects of my meds taking the pain away, when the curtain between us FLIES open with this lovely metallic SCRREEEEECCCHHHH. “I'm claustrophobic so I can't have this curtain closed.” she announces to me. “You don't mind, do you?” What am I going to say? Hey, I saw her take down the lunch lady, who am I to argue with her over the curtain. “Nope.” I said, trying to find a way to sink myself into the hospital bed until I become invisible. Didn't work. Moments later, she came up to my bed and said “Come here, I need you to help me with this.” I'm trying to discreetly hit my nurses button a hundred times. Apparently (like crosswalk buttons) it doesn't bring anything any quicker if you press it REEEEEAL hard. Just makes your IV arm hurt. “Uh. Isn't there a nurse to help you?” “Awwww, no. They's all too busy.” She says depositing an armload of tape, bandages and swabs onto my bed. “I'ms a gonna take a shower, and 'dis here cain't get wet, so's I needs you to tape it up good for me.” And down drops the right side of her gown. Not prepared to see someone's...uh...”eggs over-easy”...I think my jaw hit the floor before her gown did. She starts handing me the stuff, and I'm trying to do this with one finger on each hand, not wanting to make contact with...well, with anything to be honest with you. I kept looking longingly over at the nurses button WILLING it to ring LOUDER at their desk. Just as I'm...uh....”rounding the yolk”, the nurse walks in. I look at her with eyes PLEADING for help. She took one look at me, and...I swear...was busting up laughing internally. I almost heard her think 'I see Ms. Q'Deisha found herself another sucker'. I finished up and hit the bed before I heard her scream at the nurse- “I need my pain medicine and nausea medicine too!” Hey, while you're at it could you get me something to erase the last two hours of my memory? Perhaps something that will leave me comatose.....or HER!

This doesn't even conclude our first day....oh yes, it gets better (or worse, depending on who you are).

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

This is very Private

This is my first day home from another week in the hospital (which I will blog about AT LENGTH as soon as my blogging strength is up. It is quite the story, trust me.).
I woke up this morning to Ava yelling - "Aidan Where are your PRIVATE PLACES?!!" It took a moment for me to comprehend what she was asking, and not completely sure that Aidan wouldn't just comply to keep her quiet, I shake myself awake to make sure I'm understaning this exchange correctly. Then she yells (like a good tatteling little sister "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM Aidan won't show me his PRIVATE PLACES!" I yelled back "Ava! Private places are anything that your bathing suit covers!!" (We're yelling because were several rooms apart) She comes into my room and tells me "But I want to see Aidan's private places and he won't let me!" (I'm gone 6 days and my children have gone to hell in a handbasket. What next? Vodka in the cheerios?) "Ava, only Mommy, Daddy, and the doctors are allowed to look at your private places." I explained. She just stared at me like I was an idiot. Not a far stretch, I'm sure. "But Mommy, how am I supposed to find him when he hides?"

Give a little bit and you'll get it.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

The Mollies

Okay, I'm trying to download a videolink of The Mollies video from Youtube, but I think I'm failing miserably. Me and computers- a match made ...... never.

Not quite a year

Well, well, well. Three holes in the ground.

Yep, it's been a while. I'd love to tell you it was a year filled with a whole bunch of nothing, but who would really believe that? We'll let it all dribble out slowly in the upcoming posts.

You must really give me more credit this time around, however. I'm dealing with dial-up, so each painful posts takes about 1/2 to one hour to complete (if it doesn't decide to poop out on me before that). In addition, all of the people who are trying to get in touch with me can't because I'm tying up the phone line. Okay, so maybe that's a plus.

Well, we are continuing to settle into our HOME. Yep, H-O-M-E. We knew it was our from the very first basement flood. We like to think of it as "baptizing the home". We are just finishing up the downstairs "scary" bathroom- not so scary anymore, and what used to be the icky laundry room and funky extra room with no door (now a larger laundry/closet room where ALL of the kids clothes get hung and stored). We're trying to finish the basement to the best of our ability before Scott's parents come at the beginning of July. Really they're just an excuse to get things hurried up and moved along downstairs. Nothing like company coming over to get you motivated to clean!

Well, Friday we have our first garage sale at our home. We're getting rid of most of our dressers and bigger furniture hoping to raise some money to put a floor in downstairs (and maybe even fill up the propane tank!). We'll keep you updated and let you know how it goes. The kids are in the front yard right now "washing" some of the things we're selling. My guess is that they're soaking wet, and the items are completely dry- and still dirty. Oh the fun of a garden hose.

Hey! I just signed up for facebook (which I swore I would never do), but it won't let me request any more friends, so....if you're not yet me friend and want to be, you'll have to request it!

One more thing!! I've heard of a GREAT new indie group called "the Happies" (they also go by the name "The Mollies". You can download some of their songs, and even watch one of their videos (Float My Boat) on youtube. I'll try and attach,'s dial goes:

I happen to know one of the cutie lead singers. Actually know three of the singers, just don't know how cute the others are.