A Woman's Weekend Alone

Ok,  all you people looking for a description of a wild, sexy weekend of partying based on this title, I suggest that you surf on,  you will find no such article here.  All of you mom's who think that you will never have one minute to yourself ever again, read on.  This weekend was a first in our house.  DH took both of the kids camping and I was left home alone with the the animals (thus the Movies that Make You Cry entry). I had an entire weekend to myself.  Granted Sunday, I walked with 20,000 other people in the Rays of Hope Breast Cancer Walk, but the rest of the weekend was mine.  You are probably thinking that this sounds heavenly.  What you wouldn't do just to be able to go to the bathroom without someone knocking on the door.  Let me tell you, it was ........................................................HORRIBLE! 

Yes, there were enjoyable points.  I watched a couple of chick flicks.  I got a lot of writing done.  I didn't have to fight for the remote or my blankets.  I didn't have to cook and there were practically no dishes.  But there was no laughter, no snuggling, no reason to make dinner, and no kisses goodnight.  I found myself aching for them to come home.  I missed my daughter prattling on and my son's bear hugs.  I wandered around the house wondering what I am ever going to do when they grow a little older and move out.  I felt serious empathy for my father who lives alone now and could not imagine enduring this boredom day in and day out for weeks, months, years.

So, I advise all you mothers who think you will never have another solitary uninterupted thought to appreciate it.  It will not be long until your little ones are out of the house, until their social calendars are busier than yours, until not only do you have a moment to breathe but seriously unending silence.  On those days, you'll miss the knocks, the laughter, and even the dishes.

I'm so glad that today they are home!

What did you say? Hearing Problems

Ok, so I am officially old. My hearing has gone completely. DD on the way home this evening asked me what we are doing tomorrow. I told her that nothing was in the plans. She said, “Good then I can read Beowulf.” I heard, “Good, then I can eat bagels.”

To which I responded, “With melon.”

I cannot even describe the giggles that broke out in the backseat. “With melon? I can read Beowulf with melon, Mom. What are you talking about?”

I tried to dig myself out of the hole by explaining what I thought she had said, but they could not let it go there. DS had to pipe in, “That is almost as bad as last week when I asked for the nail clippers and she asked me why I wanted a hamburger.”

DD added, “You should have heard her the other day, ‘Who ate your seeds?’ I had told her that I was waiting for my seeds to GERMINATE, but she thought someone ate them. She went on and on about someone eating my seeds.”

Everyone really had a good laugh at my expense. I quietly thought of all the times I used to make fun of my mother for not hearing me. I thought she might be having a good laugh in heaven listening to this conversation. And then I joined them in a good laugh about the whole situation.

The Wilderness: a Novel

My latest read, The Wilderness, was an interesting combination of enjoyment and frustration. To some degreee it reminded me of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The writing was very good, but the subject matter was so disturbing that I did not end up feeling good about the overall book. The Wilderness is a look into Jacob Jameson's mind. Jake, an elderly man, is spiraling into Alzheimer's and, as the reader, you are going with him. As Jake struggles to decide what is fact and fiction, you are too. This book very clearly explains the difference between forgeting your keys and slipping into Alzheimer's. While I can't in good conscience recommend this book, I can tell you that it is a read that you will never forget.

The Battle of Growing Older and Making Changes

In my travels back to Connecticut yesterday, I stopped at my father's. Poor Dad is still living in the family house but all by himself. He is a very gregarious person and known for his many, many stories. The house is far too big for him and he is too remote to interact with others. He has to purposely go out to meet people. I’ve been really making an effort to see him when ever I drive down to CT and try to get something done in the house in hopes that he will soon see the light and decide to:

• Move in with us
• Move in with another friend or family member
• Move to a 55+ community

Anyway, in my visit yesterday, I really surprised him. He had splurged and bought himself a HDTV so he could really enjoy his one pleasure in life --- the Red Sox. He had also bought a tv stand and apparently had already tried to put it together but said that the pieces just didn’t fit. He was going to call a cabinet maker to put it together (If you know my Dad’s propensity for procrastinating, this probably would never happen and everything would sit where it was left). I told him that I would look at it when I got down there. I wondered what he could have bought that would be that difficult to put together. When I got there and found it was just a Sauder, which is meant for the consumer to put together, I knew it couldn’t be that hard. I had the whole thing build in about a half and hour. Then to further impress him. I unhooked his old tv, dvd, and cable box and hooked up the new. I think after almost 39 years, I really impressed him. He and I were always considered the inept ones when it came to tools. If something needed to be done, my brother or mom would take care of it. Unfortunately, my mother died in 2001 and my brother – well, he is a whole other story. He knows he should help, but (fill in the blank with some excuse or better yet just don’t show up). So Dad was thrilled that he would now have his Red Sox in High Definition. At almost 70, that is the least that I can do for him.

Moral: So if once you were not good at something, try, try again.

You’ll either learn how to do it or you’ll blow yourself up.

I also tried again to encourage him to take little bites out of the clean up of the house. It is very hard for him to get rid of things and the whole house just seems so overwhelming to him. I try to do bits when I’m down there, but now that we’ve moved I’m not so close anymore and the visits are less frequent. So for example, I explained on the phone the other day. Go through your old records and get rid of some of them. Of course he came back with his pat, “But they could be valuable” line. I assured him that my scratched Disco Duck from 1970 something held little or no value and could certainly be tossed. He had yes’ed me on the phone, but I knew he wasn’t really going to work on it. So when I was down there, I showed him the records I meant. “Oh, I didn’t realize we had those” (that was kind of my point – thus it would be safe to get rid of them). Then, though, I saw exactly what I was talking about tucked in behind the records – four JCPenney catalogs from circa 1988. Hello – not really useful, but will save us about 20 lbs when he finally gets really serious about moving. Little steps. Little steps. When you finally put them together, you can accomplish a marathon. Truthfully, I expect little to be done until I get down there again. If he could mentally get ready for a change, I would so happily physically get him ready, but the one thing I have learned is that you cannot push.

Mental Games for the Brain

As many of you have heard recently, surfing the web helps to stimulate the brain and possibly decrease the odds of alzheimers. (This is good news for all of us bloggers.)

Puzzles and other mental games are also another great way to keep the brain active and work out our mental muscle. So until we all get our Nintendo DS with Brain Games,




here are some online Sudoku for you to work out with.

(For those of you who homeschool like we do, you will find that these mental exercises have a double benefit because you will work out your brain, but at the same time you will inspire your kids. I have my Sudoku book out and guess who I found working on it this morning. Math practice without even an assignment : ) )

Ringtones that Adults Can't Hear

Can you believe that there is a high pitched ringtone that adults don’t hear the same way teenagers do? DD found it on a website for ringtones (She is still dreaming about getting a cell phone). I could only hear the faintest noise, certainly if it was a cell phone in my purse, I would never hear it. Frankly, I’m lucky if I hear it if on full blast. I looked up information and got mixed information, but the basic concept seems to be that adults lose the ability to hear certain frequencies. Even if adults hear it, we don’t hear it to the same extent that teenagers do. If you want to try to hear it, check out the story on NPR.

If only I could get her to talk to her friends on the phone in that tone then my house would take on a new peace. (I don’t really mean that because then I wouldn’t know what she was up to, but a woman can dream).

Geriatric Care - Not just an issue for humans

I am sorry that I did not get a chance to post last night. I was on dog watch. As I mentioned on ltginfaith.blogspot.com, our older dog is not doing well and last night he took a turn for the worse. I actually have spent the night on the couch. We have decided to put him down today, but I wasn’t even sure that he would make it through the night. The poor thing has lost so much weight and hair. He is normally a beautifully full Keeshond (for those unfamiliar with the breed, they are like huskies). Now he looks like a skeleton with wisps of hair. Tumors have come back where they were removed a little over a year ago and they have spread. And he had started “leaking” for lack of a better word. He also over the past few months had begun chewing at his legs to the point that they were raw. The vet gave us medication in case he was chewing because of arthritis and medication for the leaking. Originally, there was an antibiotic because there were signs of it being UTI and a thickening of the kidneys, but when we finished that they put him on a maintenance pill that was supposed to help.

Over the past week and a half though, he began outright peeing. I think as his legs got worse; he just did not want to make the effort to go outside. Some nights his breathing was so labored, I thought this was it. As I continued to talk to the nurse at the veterinary hospital, she was very patient and helpful, understanding the difficult stages of an aging dog. She kept telling me that we can do everything we can. As I struggled to know, when it was time to say goodbye, she assured me I would know. Last night it became clear. We have done everything in our power to give him care and make his life worth living. When he could not get himself upright, I would stand over him putting my feet on both sides so that he could push against them with his back feet so that he could get himself upright. As food and cookies have become hard to chew, he has enjoyed a feast from the table: chicken, beef, and pork. We had to get rid of the carpet in the living room because of smell, but I have put out a blanket so that he would have a warm comfortable place to lay.

Yesterday though, as everyone was at their respective activities except me, the dogs, and the cat, the smell from him was worse than usual. I hesitate to keep giving him baths because he hates them so, but I had decided to just get him to go outside for a bit, maybe he was leaking again and that was what I smelled, so I encouraged him to get up. You should have seen his look of shame and apology. He had started going bm right where he lay. I thought you have to be kidding me. I had to wipe him up and get him outside, but now I would definitely have to wash him. When I went to get him from outside though to ready the bath, he didn’t want to move. I sat with him for a few minutes on the back steps crying. Then when he did get up it was clear that something had changed, he did not have full control of his back legs. Now I’m thinking do I torture this poor thing and give him a bath or just live with it for a night, because we have to take action tomorrow. My husband concurred. It is time. We have passed the time of comfortable but limited existence and clearly have moved to a point where he is uncomfortable to a point that we cannot help him. The poor thing was able to hobble in to his water bowl and after drinking tried to move away, but just couldn’t be steady enough on his back legs to turn away from the bowl and move to the living room. Then when he got to the living room, he couldn’t get himself to lie down. I decided to stay out here with him last night and again prayed for God to take away his pain, but this morning we all woke up again.

Now I am wondering do I give him the bath to take him to the vet (that vanity thing again) or do they just need to understand that the last thing I want to do to him in his last hours of life is the thing which he hates the most. But I have to take care of this today, because this morning I even had to bring his water to him, he could stand up, but could not seem to bring himself to cross the room to his water bowl.

Help - My Kids are Growing Up

Help me. I no longer understand the language being spoken at my dining room table. I remember when the children were small and I used to complain that my husband never took the children. For me, they were constant appendages. I love / loved my children, but there were times I so desperately needed a break. I could not even image this day coming. Now he goes here and there with them and I am the one left home. They have started fishing and camping. Last weekend and this weekend, they are taking a hunting course. They’re talking about caliber and action, discussing seasons to hunt what, and I am left just drop-jawed. I barely understand what they are talking about.

Now I am left with hours and days with no one in the house, except the dogs. I did not think that it was possible. I’m sure it is only going to get worse as they get older and branch off with their friends and, bite your tongue, get their licenses and jobs. When they were first born, it seem like there was so much time in front of us. Now it seems to be more behind us than in front of us. Only just a few more years before college or life . . .what shall I ever do?

The Olympics Brake Age Barriers

What do the names Dana Torres, Constantina Tomescu Dita, and Oksana Chusovitina have in common? All of these women are over 30 and competing on an international scale. We may be admiring many of our Hollywood stars for how they are looking at 50 or 60, but these woman, Dana, Constantina, and Oksana, are showing us all what the true possibilities are. Middle age and over-the-hill are becoming terms of the past (of course I’m not sure that my knees know this). Dana is 41. Constantina, who just won the woman’s marathon, is 38. And Oksana is competing in her 5th Olympic Games as a gymnast at the age of 33.

This reminds me of the day I knocked on the door of a local artist Lois Leston. Lois is a painter. She proudly showed me many of her pieces – mostly local landscapes. So I asked if she had been painting her entire life. “No, I didn’t even pick up a paint brush until after I retired.”

Such phenomenal woman.

I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
-Maya Angelou
An excerpt from Phenomenal Woman

What possibilities may lay in front of me . . .and you. I am proud to be called “Woman”!

Losing Game

Ok, it is official I am old. For the first time, my daughter (13) let me win a game. How pathetic is that?

As I mentioned on my Homeschool with Heart blog, my daughter has been going to theater camp. While there, she has learned how to play a card game named “Spit”. Don’t worry I didn’t know what it was either. This was the first hint that I was beginning to edge over the proverbial hill. She begged me to play tonight and I relented. As it was over 90 degrees, we set up the cards in my bedroom. We tried it first directly on the bed, then on a pillow, and finally set up a laundry basket upside down. (This is not the optimum playing area as laundry baskets are slick and move around when placed on the bed, but when it was as hot as it was today, you are willing to sacrifice for relief.)

She started trying to explain the game to me. Of course the first cards she put out had pictures on them and were not marked with the original six hearts or seven spades. Strike one against me. I could barely read the cards: my eyes aren’t what they used to be. I had to insist that we change decks. I should have given up then. She carefully reviewed the rules. It quickly became very apparent that my older reflexes were not up to the contest with a 13 year old who has been playing this game every day for two weeks. She started slowly for me and then it became very apparent that she was giving me clear benefits. She was purposely hitting the wrong pile; she was delaying her play when she saw that I had a move to make. . . She was throwing the game. It was like when she was little and we were playing Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. She wasn’t overtly loosing. She was carefully controlling her play so that I had every advantage and therefore would begin to win and continue to want to play. This was the ultimate insult to my pride. Even after a couple rounds and learning that I needed to use both hands, I couldn’t overtake her. Her youth was clearly her advantage: her eyesight, her reflexes, her speedy thought processing.

I know it is pathetic to be competitive with a thirteen year old and I wouldn’t care if she beat me, but I really care that I couldn’t beat her. Is this the beginning of the end? When we finished the game, even she admitted it. “Mom, when we play tomorrow, I’m not going to go so easy on you.” I’ll have to let you know how it turns out.