A Nightmare on Hayes Manor Ln

I had a fitful night's sleep last night. It could have resulted from the fitful events of the day. You try shopping for church shoes with two boys who don't want to be with you (walking several paces behind). Actually Little Boy was most cooperative. He chose his shoes in 2 seconds flat-and more importantly he was grateful. Big Boy= another story altogether. But since he has asked a girl from church to our Mormon Prom he has dug himself this hole and it's up to me to struggle through the wardrobe options with him. Oh joy.

The dream I woke up crying to this morning involved me trying to find space in the freezer to put some melting chocolate in before it was too late to save. Try as I might I just couldn't balance everything (a symbol for my life maybe?) that was in there and make room for my chocolate. Then I noticed something horrifying in the freezer. Blood in the ice cubes. Deep dark brownish bloody cubes. I wasn't sure if someone had been making blood cubes or if some meat had thawed out during a power outage and had bled all over the ice. It was disgusting. Then my thoughts (still in my dream) turned darker. What if there was some foul play to blame for this blood? Who would kill something in my home? And then freeze the evidence! Then the scarier thought... What if it was me who'd done the deed and I had just blocked it from memory? Had I killed my teenager? Things had been bad lately but just how bad were they? Big Boy (in real life) has a tendency to put odd things in the freezer. He likes to experiment. 'What happens when things freeze' being a common unknown he likes to solve. Things I have found in the freezer? Gum, jello, silly putty, gummy worms, etc. So maybe my unconscious took this freezer situation to the next level. Luckily T woke me up before I found my teenager's head in there.

I guess it was promising that my emotion was sadness. I do believe the sadness wasn't about the fact that I would now have to clean out the freezer. It was sadness that I would now be without my son. The question for this morning is this: Do I share this nightmare with Big Boy? Would it bring us closer? Or would he be watching his back all day? Dreams are weird. Any of you want to interpret my dream?

Or how about T's? He dreamt about a business man coming home from work and sitting up in the attic with his pants around his knees, eating nuts and gazing at the stars from his telescope. When the man's wife approached my husband and asked if her spouse up there doing those things, T covered for him and said "nope."

So Long Dr E

So, I had a somewhat bizarre appointment with my internist today. I have had bronchitis (turns out it wasn't pneumonia) and have been coughing for 5 weeks. I went on antibiotics around week 2. I also was on an inhaler, a mucous medication, and predisone for who knows what. The gunk has now spread from my lungs to my head and it's making me crazy! Seriously, it's not just in my head-it's in my head. You know that feeling when you have swimmer's ear? The marbles are rolling around in your head when you bend over. Well I haven't been swimming, or holding my head under running water lately but I have that anyways-seriously, I'm not making this up. I am constantly trying to equalize the pressure in my ears making that squeaky sound for anyone and everyone in the room to hear. I get dizzy, watery eyed, and headachy. All that good stuff. Each day is a bit more bearable. But throw in some tennis elbow making it so that I can't lift a full gallon of milk anymore, and the fact that I pee myself when I cough too much (mentioned before-sorry, get over my bluntness), some winter blues due to the biggest storms in recorded history, and a sassy teenager and I am thinking that this Doctor will have some sympathy for me right? Wrong.

Today I was prompt for my appointment and I was sitting where you sit after the vitals have been taken right outside the Doctor's office/exam room. I know from keen observation powers I posses that he is alone in that room and he knows I am out there waiting. Our eyes met as he walked in. But he keeps me waiting for quite some time while he does his other stuff.

Now Dr E was quite pleasant on our first visit. He even called me at home to tell me he wasn't coming in due to the blizzard so I should not come to my appointment either. After hanging up my only thought was that he at least should have inquired about how I was doing. Turns out he's not really that kind of guy.

Today when he saw me he asked me quite out of the blue, while looking into my ears, if I played a musical instrument. Not, "I see here your suffering from incontinence, tell me more about that." Or "It says you were a bit depressed during your bout with bronchitis, how are you feeling now?" He just wanted to know why, after 6 years I quit the piano. Now, I will tell you, that there was classical music playing in his office when I went in and the DVD was skipping or something, making him have to adjust it several times. He paid more attention to his stereo than to me almost. So maybe he thought that was the ice-breaker he needed to delve into my musical history.

The other odd thing was that when I revealed to him that I would not be coming back to this facility he seemed upset. Since there is another hospital closer to my home, I had made the switch with Tricare services just before my appointment. Nothing personal, just a better parking lot and the possibility of a lunch date with my sweetie. I think it may have offended him, because he was very brief with me from that point on, he stopped looking me in the eye, and he left me in the hallway to await my time with the out-scheduling nurse without so much as a good-bye. "Thanks" I called to him as he shuffled down the hallway away from me. Some doctors must have skipped class the day they talked about bedside behavior. Either that or he didn't accept my excuse for quitting the piano.

Cooks and Lovers

Now I know I should really cut my Mom a break in the cooking department because she had 13 kids. In fact I am certain she was probably a better cook when she had less children. She also used to sew costumes for her kids and vacuum under chairs (or so I am told- I never witnessed such things). Before I came along she had been widowed (with 5 kids), and had married my father who had 4 kids of his own. Blending those families must have been rough. Then they went ahead and faithfully had 4 more kids of their own. I was the eldest of these. Confused? Understandable. The point is, she was spread thin. Very thin.

The meals I remember Mom making were fairly simplified. She even invented a simple 'pizza' with a flour tortilla as the crust. Next came spaghetti sauce from a jar, and in lieu of pepperoni just cut up s slice of baloney, add cheese and pop it in that new invention- the microwave for 45 seconds. Yum! The only dessert she made was a no-bake cheesecake from a box by Jello-brand foods. Jello was also a staple in our home. Jello blended with dream whip powdered whipping cream (yuck!).

I couldn't believe it when on a morning after a sleepover, my friend Gwen taught me the proper way to make scrambled eggs. The part I found fascinating was where she dirtied an extra bowl for scrambling the eggs in instead of stirring it up right there in the pan. These eggs were divine compared to the eggs I had been sifting through at home, avoiding that long white strandy stuff that my torturous older brother had told me was the chick's belly button. So when Gwen introduced me to a perfectionist way of cooking my interest in what else could be done better had been piqued.

My maternal Grandmother had been an excellent cook. Pies being her specialty. One bite of her perfect lemon meringue pie and you could be transported to heaven! I am still trying to figure out how her sealed edges never separated. That seal breaks on me every time. Too bad I can't call her up in heaven and ask her what the trick was. She'd probably be to busy serving up pie to answer my question anyways. If they don't have pie in heaven, they should. My mother used to say that cooking great dishes was Grandma's way of showing her love. Funnily enough her comic husband used to say "There are two types of women, those who are good cooks and those who are good lovers, and BOY can your grandma cook!" As I child I found this statement confusing. I am still scratching my head a bit as to why he would say this in public.

My cooking isn't award winning, but I am not afraid to try new things. Unlike my mother, (or is it because of her) I do bake things from scratch. Maybe it was the same for my mom. She rebelled against the made-from-scratch things by stocking up on Jello-brand cheesecake. Do we try and be what our mother's were not? Possibly...

I like home-made vs the box on most things. But not corn bread. Sometimes faster is better because it means more time spent with your family- and that is a good way to show love. My daughters are always the first to pull up a stool or chair to "help" me cook. Being the impatient perfectionist that I am, we have adopted the phrase "watching is helping!"

Yesterday when we had to bake a cake for the blue and gold banquet I invited my 10 year old boy to stop watching television and join me in the kitchen. After all it was supposed to be made my him. I taught him how to sift flour, and separate eggs. We made my favorite home made yellow cake. He did a great job! It was great to share that time together, just the two of us. However Big Girl's homework did have to wait. Sharing my time is a way to show my love, and even though he complained at first when I tore him away from the boob tube, when I asked him this morning if he liked making a cake with me, he slyly smiled and admitted defeat. Maybe there's a little chef in there somewhere.

Troubles With My Teen

This past weekend was a challenging one for me. On top of the fact that I am not feeling well, I have not had the friendliest weekend with my teen aged son. These teen years have been a very humbling experience for me. I realize that me not feeling great has been a contributing factor.

I remember being a new mother. After a grueling 29 hour delivery, I looked down at my wrinkly swollen newborn and I felt fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the drive home, fear of the pain and sacrifice I was unsure I would be able to give. I was shaking literally and I wasn't all together sure if it was the exhaustion or the fear. About 15 months later I remember the exact opposite feeling one day, while sitting in a church meeting. I noticed another mother with a child that was misbehaving- badly. My child had his hand-made mini photo book with cut out pictures from church magazines and real photos of his Dad throwing him in the air keeping him blissfully reverent. I had my tupperware fully stocked with Cheerios and other various quiet toys stashed away awaiting their turn in the line up if needed. 'That poor mother just doesn't have it together' I ignorantly thought to myself. I wonder what some more experienced mother of teens would say if they could have seen me last Saturday.

Saturday T left for an all-day scout training thing. I don't know how I managed to go for 6 months alone with my kids while T was deployed because 6 hours on Saturday seemed to bring both of us to our wits end. The things we said to one another! The atmosphere in our home was awful. I tried involving the kids in a friendly little game, but even this turned sour. Big personalities clashing once again.

Really there are a lot of things I have to be grateful for with this kid. Maybe I need to remind myself. Here I go: He's a good student. He works hard at his violin. He is socially adept. He has a soft spot for his mother and will still give me hugs. He is funny. He has awesome red hair. He likes to read. His cartooning skills are pretty great. He loves his Dad. He never complains about going to seminary or church meetings. He can iron and do laundry. He hates swearing. He's a fast texter. He is good at math and science. He's gonna do big things one day. Lots of cute girls have had crushes on him over the years but it has never gone to his head. He is growing so fast I can't believe it! He's sporting some big muscles this year. He's got great freckles. I love him. He didn't give up during cross country season, even when it was hard. Very hard. Perhaps this is the strategy I should adopt for myself. Pushing through the fear and pain. Going the distance on this long long journey.

And never, never giving up.

(photo taken before the big muscles showed up this fall)

Guest Post by T

He says he would like to do a guest post... But not right now. Something to look forward to since he is an awesome writer! I am going to give him three topics to choose from. You, gentle readers can influence his choice by voting in the comments section.

Here are the choices:

A) His favorite technical device

B) A memory from his youth that shaped his life

C) How making brownies from scratch has enlightened him

D) A suggestion from you perhaps?

Me, Complaining

I am going to admit that I don't know at all what this post is going to be about. I just think I will start typing and see where it goes. Usually I feel like I should not post unless I have something to say, but not tonight. You can feel free to stop reading now if you like. I know one should never make excuses right? Well I just did, and yet on I continue....

The biggest thing I have on my mind tonight is my health. I have now been struggling with this bronchitis/pneumonia turned head cold for 5 weeks! Seriously! I am aware that there are worse things out there. But I am just sick and tired of being sick and tired. It is making me a big crank too. My poor family. At least I was nicer today than yesterday. It's really true what that country song says "When Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Yet I am still waiting for the part in the song when he says he's "gonna make Momma happy tonight." (And I am thinking more along the lines of washing pans and folding laundry-not the other thing you are thinking).

My energy levels are way low. Carrying all that unfolded laundry up the stairs makes me breath heavily. I had been working out 3 times a week before all this started and had been feeling so good. Now I just sit around trying to get rested watching the olympic games. BTW is it just me, or does anyone else think that Johnny Weir was framed? That guy has some interesting hat choices but man can he skate!

One thing I thought was a benefit to being so sick was that my appetite is not there and I have lost the 5 lbs I gained on vacation in Florida, plus 3 more pounds as a bonus! Yes! Then one day I made chocolate lava cake and those lost pounds were suddenly found. My husband discovered that our scale is quite fickle depending on what bathroom tiles it is placed on. I think I am going with the same spot I usually weigh myself at and call that the truth. None of this moving the scale around setting myself up for disappointment. I like being ignorantly blissful. Finding lost weight overnight only makes me want more lava cake.

And one final complaint before I close this rant. I have a new pain. Its a mysterious pain that I have tried blaming on the weather, the heavy laundry, my age, an unknown injury, shoveling snow (whoops I didn't actually do any of that). I still don't know why it hurts, but my elbow is killing me! It's been a week of icing and ibuprofen with little change. Then the thought came to me sometime yesterday. Perhaps it's the big C...Canker. Did anyone else see that SNL skit with a young Alec Baldwin? The one where he pretends he's a soap opera star who doesn't learn his lines right and he has to tell someone they have cancer. He says "There's nothing they taught me at Yalee medical school to prepare for moments like this... Yes, you have the big C- canker" I wish I could find that video clip to share with you. But really the pain is unexplained and keeps getting worse. I know I need an x-ray, but that means dealing with the parking lot at Walter Reed and I would almost rather have the cancer.

Well I better stop rambling and start taking better care of myself. I said no to helping with the delayed Valentine's Day party at school yesterday. Bold of me! The first step in healing myself. And now I am going to get a good night's sleep and eat oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow. There's gotta be some healing power in a steaming bowl of oatmeal.

Two Violinists

Okay, so I am super proud of these two. Big Boy has taken violin since he was 9. Little Boy is on his 3rd year (but 1st with a 'real' teacher). Little Boy has made the biggest strides this past year. He is a devoted practicer and really thinks before he plays. You may recall how he gave himself blisters when perfecting his bow hold back in September. He confided in me the other day on the way to his lesson, that he was really glad I made him take violin. You could have picked up my jaw up off the floor. Not many moments like that come along in my experience as a mom. After all this practicing, now comes the great times when they can play tunes together. It tickles me to no end. Which is probably why I have to really pull teeth to get them to do it. I get the most resistance from Big Boy who has turned a bit surly in his teenaged years. (Help!)

I am also most proud of my husband who will do his Egyptian dance at the drop of a hat. This silly side of him is one reason I married the guy. It's rare that he shows this side to anyone besides me, so please enjoy! The tune they are playing is called Fisher's Hornpipe.

My Love Has Layers

Our Story, (by request only)

So for the few people who got to read our story early this morning (hello Japan!). Count yourself among the lucky. T, when finding out I had scheduled our story to be posted early on Valentines, shared his feelings with me on the matter. And since it is the day for love I am honoring my love's request to keep that story more on the private side.

I am the type of person that is an open book. I like to share. T is less that way. I used to sing and perform for my parent's friends at an early age. T is happy in the background watching.

So if you are one of the people who asked me to share this story before I will email it to you personally. If you have a burning desire to know our love story, leave me a comment and I will most likely share it with you too. T just isn't cool with it being out there for the entire world.

For the record I did tell him to read over it last night and make changes if he liked- but I fell asleep before giving out the news that it was scheduled to go up the next day. Silly Kelly...

Hope you have a wonderful day filled with love on this Valentines!

Kelly

PS email me with your personal email address and I will send it to you. My address is nttagg@gmail.com

Big Girl Gets Older

This morning someone had french toast in bed...

And someone waited patiently

To get to her presents!

Someone had a fun pajama party with friends.

Where cookies were decorated...

and girls jumped on a mattress...

And strawberry cake was lit...

Happy 7th Birthday Big Girl!