View From The Hills

I love you, I really do.  I have been eyeing you on Boden’s website since last August.  You are a very special symbol of the fact that my husband spoils me and loves me.  I want to wear you every day.  But, here’s the thing.

You WILL conform to my foot.  You are leather, and therefore, supposedly, pliable.  I refuse to return you because you are not available anymore in any other sizes, and I love you in this size and color.  Whatever it is in your heel that keeps causing the back of my heel to hurt will stretch, and you will soon feel like my favorite slippers.  You will, if it kills us both.  It might.

We’re snowed in today.  Like, 20 inches of snow.  It’s lovely being forced inside with your family and not having the option to leave the house for anything.  I’m not being sarcastic.  I really think it’s been fantastic.  The snow is beautiful and as long as I don’t have to touch it, I love it.  Which brings me to the point of this post.  I’m usually not forced to pull out my coat until January.

I have a personal anti-coat policy.  I dislike them.  This is what I feel like in a coat:

When you have an itch, say, on your shoulder blade and you’re wearing a coat, you can’t reach it.  If you walk into a store with that ridiculous contraption, you then become all hot and balmy and need to take it off and carry it around until you leave.  When you leave the store, you have to put it on until you get to your car.  Then, you get in your car with your coat on (cause you don’t want to take it off just for the few minutes it takes to get to the next place) and you have to manuever your seatbelt around it (don’t even get me started on buckling your toddler into a carseat with a coat on).  Then you get hot, but you’re driving and have your seatbelt on so you just have to suck it up til you get where you’re going.  Not to mention that you can hardly move your arms around.

Then you get an itch on your shoulder blade.

These are seriously only a few of the reasons I dislike coats.  I know some of you think that it’s a plus that coats can be stylish and cute, but 1. so is my outfit that it is completely hiding and 2. not the ones that actually keep you warm.  For it to really keep you warm, you just end up looking like the kid above.

All this to say, I can manage to only pull out my coat about 10 times in a winter at most (and yet I’ve already worn it 3 this year!).  I simply run real fast from car to place to place.  I also refuse to be outside for any reason for more than 3 minutes. I’m not necessarily endorsing this behavior, it’s ridiculous.  And I’m clumsy, so being in a hurry all the time in combination with snow and ice is a wee bit dangerous.   This incessant cold, though, so early in winter, has me concerned.  I gave in Friday and wore my coat and BOY did it make me grumpy.  Everything seemed so much more complicated.  So I decided that my anti-coat stance was right on.  And then we get this blizzard.  Ugh.

I’m ok with staying inside ’til April.  I really just think it’s best.

Dorothy was right, there really is no place like it.  I went to Texas last weekend to fly Mom home and my boys stayed here in Maryland without me.  Typically, there were injuries.  Yes, I have pictures.  Maybe my next blog will be for the Gross Chronicles. 

After taking care of Mom for the past 3 months, and the constant stress of her being in and out of the hospital, this week is bittersweet.  I expected to simply feel relief at having a burden lifted, but mostly I feel like I’m missing a limb.  I feel a need to call every hour and ask her if she took her medication and how she feels and what her blood pressure is and the status of her fluid retention.  I need to know if she’s eating ok and if she’s had enough water or too much salt.  I can’t help but constantly ask about her new cough, and whether it’s productive, is it a cold or just allergies, is there a fever, and then I worry that her allergy medication probably interacts with several other medications that she’s on.  I keep compulsively reminding them about her doctor’s appointments and have been reminded twice by my father that he can get her there. 

Sigh.

So, to cope, I took a nap today and then watched TV in bed for 2 hours.  Tonight I took a long bath with a glass of wine.  I miss Mom very much, but maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this too. 

So Mom is back in the hospital.  As absolutely insane as that is, I’m actually doing pretty well with it right now.  I fell apart for a minute yesterday, but today I’m mostly better.  You know I’m doing better if I can find some humor in this, because last time we hit up the ER, things didn’t seem funny at all. 

Let’s begin with 7pm last night, when I knew things had gotten bad enough that we had to do something.  I pondered the irony of how things always get worse once the doctor’s office closes.  Then I debated the fastest way to get past the throngs.  Her doctor told me there wasn’t much he could do to speed up the process.  I was on the phone with him when I pulled up to the front and saw the waiting room PACKED with people coughing into their surely swine-flu-filled face masks.  It was a full moon.  That’s another quandary.  Several medical professionals have confirmed that full moons bring out tons of emergencies and seems to cause labor.  Anyways, I digress.  I’m on the phone with the doctor looking into the waiting room and I let a tiny expletive slip.  He tells me to go home and call an ambulance.  When you arrive in an ambulance you go straight in.  Fascinating.  And in our defense, she didn’t have to pretend to be sicker than she was.  This woman was at the height of misery.  Which made our little stunt all the more ridiculous.  So I explain to Mom that we’re going back home, I’m putting her in a wheelchair on the curb and calling 911.  After sitting my very ill mother out in the cold for 10 minutes while she vomits in a bucket, and a good deal of neighborhood drama, the EMTs arrive.  They inform me that they can’t take her to Howard County (the hospital that is 2 blocks from my house)because it’s full.  They have to take her to Laurel Medical.  You must be kidding, I say.  This must be a very bad joke.  Her doctor is at this hospital, it is 30 seconds from my house.  I have spent weeks driving back and forth to Baltimore and now you want to take her to Laurel??  If you ever want to tell a story about a brilliant plan backfiring, you can tell this one.  Umm, well, thanksbutnothanks.  Maybe I can just drive her myself after all?  Do we have to pay for this stunt, I ask?  Only if you pay your taxes, ma’am.  Awesome, I do.  So I don’t really feel that bad. 

Later in the ER, about 1am.  I am starving.  Everything is closed.  I don’t want to touch the vending machines because nothing in there is Weight Watcher approved and I’m pretty sure it’s covered in swine flu.  I ask the nurse if there is any food around.  He says, I have a turkey sandwich, but only if it’s for your mother.  The meals are only for patients.  My mother has her poor head in a bucket again.  Yes, I say, it’s for my mother.  And she wants extra mustard.  Is it lying when every party involved knows you’re lying?

This morning, while still in the ER (that’s right, still waiting for a bed upstairs), I tell the nurse that I don’t want to go to the bathroom here because I’m afraid it’s covered in swine flu.  I wait patiently for her to tell me that everyone’s overreacting and I should just wash my hands and calm down and there aren’t actually tons of people here with swine flu.  After a full 10 second pause, she tells me to try not to touch anything. 

Stay tuned friends.

I temporarily abandoned my blog.  As you can see in the last couple of posts, I have been writing updates on my mom’s open-heart surgery and recovery on a different blog.  I obviously cannot keep up with 2 blogs.  Heck, I still haven’t folded laundry that was washed 2 weeks ago.  But I will randomly fill you in. 

Even now, I’m not sure what to tell you.  I’m exhausted.  A tad overwhelmed.  I’m the baby of the family, and people in my family don’t usually put me in charge.  Being the one calling the shots in my mother’s recovery is a responsibility I would like to give away.  I’m so ready for her to feel better, but this road is a very long one, and we still have some traveling to do.  I was also so ready to have her out of the hospital, because traveling back and forth, worrying about her care, arranging for childcare, was all very complicated.  But now that we’re home, I would like to have somewhere to go.  I thought this morning how funny that was, since 1.5 weeks ago I was so ready to get to stay at home.  Are we ever content?

Stu is busy being Super Dad.   Pretty much rocking the house.  Thank God for him. 

Daina and Dad show up tomorrow.  I love when help comes to my house.

I’m getting my hair cut soon.  For some reason this makes the future seem brighter. 

I put on my skinny pants today.  They are tight.  But they are on.  13lbs down.  I heart Weight Watchers.  Not that I go to their ridonk $12 meetings anymore, but I do buy myself stickers sometimes.  This is an especially amazing feat for me because in stressful situations, I’m not one of those people who annoyingly drops weight  (what’s up with that, anyways?).  I’m one of those people who finds some chips and queso and dives right in.  Followed by brownies.  In a stressful situation, I would usually be found face-first in a sheet cake.  I finally feel like I’m in control.  It feels good.  And no, I haven’t given up queso.  Not completely.  It just counts as flex points now.

I’m going to buy a minivan.  No, I’m not pregnant.  I have, however, borrowed my friend’s minivan so many times now, for so many different uses that I think it’s time to just get my own.  The fact that the Element only seats 4 and my mom can’t easily get in and of of it helps to seal the deal.  I have had too much time to research them so I know way too much about all of the vans out there.  Way too much.  The funniest part of this story is that Stu hates buying cars so much that he wants me to do this without him.  He gets all crazy tense and really hinders my negotiation process.  Him staying home is probably best, so he won’t spoil all my fun. 

I’m going to try to do better here, so don’t give up on my blog.

A couple of people have used this phrase in encouragement over the past couple of days, and I actually think it’s one of the best things you can say to someone in my situation.  I am not one who normally wishes for time to fly, but this week, I find myself glad that it’s always moving.  Every hour that passes is one more in which things can get better.  Although there is always the possibility that they can get worse, odds are that we’ve already hit rock bottom and now we’re moving back up.

Most of you have been following the blog I’m using for updates on my Mom, and if you want details, you’ll have to go there.  Here, though, I feel like I can express a little more about what we’ve been going through.

Open heart surgery is hard.  This is an obvious statement that I had already heard, but until I had to watch my mother undergo this trauma, it hadn’t seemed so real.  I was actually pretty tough the first couple of days.  But last night I cracked.  We went back for our evening visit to the ICU and I had just really hoped for some encouragement.  They had removed the ventilator, which was a marked improvement, but her misery was still so apparent.  My brain knows that she will not remember these drug-filled days.  My heart can not come to terms with it.  The extremely slow recovery is going to be a difficult, emotional road.  One by one, family members are going to have to get back to their families and jobs.  All of them wish they could take this on themselves, and would if they could.  But she needed to be here, in Baltimore.  The weight of not knowing if I’ll be able to take care of her well enough is heavy.  And I must remind myself where my help comes from (Psalm 121).

Our hardest struggle has been the balance between getting rest and being at the hospital.  We seem to wear her out when we’re there.  She even managed to kick us out once.  But not being there induces a great deal of guilt gut.  I have no idea how to manage that.  I am aware that sitting in the waiting room for hours on end in case she opens her eyes is not the best way to go about things.  It’s what we all want to do though.  Especially, and understandably, my dad.  I suppose we’ll get better at figuring it out.

I suppose with every hour that passes, maybe things will get better.

…are these thoughts.

My baby (I know he’s not really a baby, but please be kind enough not to discuss this with me) has been a source of endless entertainment this past week.  I find myself belly laughing at him constantly.  He also has 3 giant splinters in his foot that seem to have come from our deck.  I discovered them this morning.  And even though they are red and puffy, he is completely unfazed by them.  I know I have to remove them.  But does anyone remember this blog? I don’t like this sort of thing, it makes me all queasy and light-headed.  But, being the responsible mother I am, I will hike up my britches and get those splinters out.

I went to another WW meeting.  They told me I lost 5 pounds and then gave me a sticker!  They do alot of stickers there, which completely perplexes me.  What I did find, which the not so nice lady who registered me did not tell me, is that once you join, you pay for every week-even if you don’t go.  I’m going to give that a big fat What The Fruitnut.  I don’t think they’ll be seeing me at the meetings anymore, because I already have a scale and I’m pretty sure Target sells stickers.

Today is our mock anniversary.  Technically, we got married in a courthouse in Ellicott City on the 16th.  Our wedding, however, was on the 19th in Texas.  We celebrate it on the most convenient date.  In my defense, this is why I can never remember when our anniversary is.  You can expect a super mushy blog about all of this on Sunday, complete with wedding pictures.  Get excited.  Tonight, however, Blake will be with some of his favorite people while Stu and I commemorate the date with sushi and Harry Potter!

I have more on my mind, but the time has come for splinter removal.  boo.

Dare I publicly admit that I’m about to start dieting?  Again?  There are times when I consider that secret dieting is best.  I don’t need people analyzing everything that goes in my mouth, do I?

But, in the name of commiseration and honesty, I decided to get out there with it.  This way I can whine when I’m hungry and brag when I lose weight.  This excites you, I’m sure.

I will say this: like many people, I dislike the word “diet”.  The connotation is so temporary.  And we all know that keeping weight off is the hard part.  Therefore, my first order of business has been to become a runner.  And I am!!  Every week, I have another small breakthrough in my endurance.  I’m up to 2 non-stop miles, which is pretty huge for me.  However, my theory that surely I can out-run whatever I eat is not proving successful.  I am still not losing weight.  I’ve even gained some!!  I know, muscle weighs more than fat, blahblahblah-tell it to my jeans.  So, I have reached my wall.  Something must be changed.  I have always been a fan of the South Beach Diet, and it worked for me many years ago, but frankly, I just need a little more flexibility than it offers.  I have decided join Weight Watchers.  Dumdumduuuuummm.

I like the idea of putting a point value to my food, and being able to pick how I use my food.  I think it will simply bring me back to a place where I have to think about what I eat.  And hopefully, as I become a better running, I can worry less and less about it.

All this to say, I tried to go to a meeting yesterday.  OY.  I’m funny in that I really don’t like when people get all cheery to try to motivate me.  Especially when it doesn’t feel real.  Instead, I feel patronized.  Kelli offered to keep Blake, and I really only had about an hour and a half to get to the meeting, and get back  to get him to bed.  I must have misunderstood when I should be there as a “beginner”, because they keep all their super-dieting-secrets to themselves until after the meeting, you pay up, and go to the “getting started” seminar.   Well, I didn’t have time to stay for all that.  And when I told the leader that I couldn’t stay that long (and that this information should have been more clear online), she seemed pretty annoyed.  She wouldn’t even weigh me (you should weigh people in situations like this. I likely would have simply handed her my credit card)!  I explained that I have a baby and when people have to make childcare arrangements, they deserve to understand what they’re getting into.  She then stated things must have seemed unclear on the website because I’m sleep-deprived.  This offended me.  Even if I am sleep deprived.  Which is none of her business.

So, my options were to a)refuse to join because one person annoyed me b)give Captain Smarty-Pants my sales 101 course, which might help her in the future or c)note her name and be sure I don’t attend a meeting led by her again.  I chose Option C, and will try again tonight.  There was a time in my life when I would have completely flown off the handle at that comment, so I like to consider this progress.  Maybe, since I know you are on the edge of your seat, I will give you a play-by-play  tomorrow.

For now, I’m eating some chocolate ice cream to pad my start weight.  This will make me look even more successful when I lose it.