Whenever we have stuff happen in our family, inevitably we are shown so much kindness and help and certain things stand out. So here’s the story…
Doug wasn’t feeling well Saturday afternoon. Thought perhaps he overate the night before. Was feeling a bump in his abdomen that he figured as another hernia but with some bedrest, he could reduce it. As I left for church rehearsal(3pm), I honestly wasn’t sure he could care for the kids. I arrived at church and called a friend to ask if he would call Doug or go over and check on him. We called Doug and neither of us could get a response. Our friend John went over and stayed until I was done singing. Doug sent me a text around 5 pm: “Should go to doctor when u get home. Have sweats and throwing up.”
I’m familiar with the M.O. Most likely a bowel obstruction or strangulated hernia. John stayed with the kids until around 10 pm because he didn’t want us to worry about anything.
Now, throughout the evening at the ER, I was trying to figure out what we were going to do about the kids. By 8 pm, I knew he was not going home soon. Called a couple of friends just in case we needed late or overnight help later. I called one of our regular sitters, Katie but she and her mom were out of town for the weekend. Her dad would have come but he didn’t have a car since our other sitter Michael was out with friends-with the car. Ah, to be 16 again! Michael’s dad said he would text him and ask Michael to come to our house after his movie with friends was over. And bless Michael’s 16 yr old heart, he did it. That kid drove to our house around 10 pm, relieved John and told me thru text at midnight that he was good to stay longer. Oh and did I mention we didn’t have a dime to pay him? Still had 3 days til payday. Doug was in surgery from 10:30 pm til 1:30 am. I stopped home at 2 am to get Doug’s CPAP machine and asked Michael to stay a little longer. “OK but I have to be home by 1:00 tomorrow afternoon” was his response as he laid back down on the couch. I finally got home around 3 am.
There are many more people but time is short and the fish sticks need to go into the oven!
Inspired by Anne Jackson’s is this rude? post and based on something I saw yesterday:
If your children’s lemonade stand sign is printed on the back of an empty Budweiser case and duct taped to the stop sign on the corner, you just might be a redneck.
Although I must say that it is environmentally conscious to reuse items and shows a new generation the entrepreneurial spirit. Usually, we’re the neighbors our neighbors whisper about.
Hey, sorry for nothing new. My neck and shoulder are worsening and I can barely lift with my right arm let alone work the mouse and keyboard here. I’m finagling a little to get it done. I’ll see the doctor today to get some ideas.
In the meantime, check out this quote:
“No matter what you’re going through, there’s always somebody out there going through something a little bit harder,” Atlantis says. “So whatever you’re going through, just count it as a blessing. You can learn from every single thing.”
Read Atlantis’ story here as discovered by Stephen Paletta, a contestant on Oprah’s Big Give.
So I’ve packed up two huge boxes of stuff to mail off to my sister. I cannot see over the top of these boxes when I carry them. I don’t have a stroller to use as a hand truck anymore. So JD, Annaliese and I go to the post office anyway. I know, “why didn’t you just wait and go without the kids?” Yeah well, I’ve already put this off about 2 weeks and it was payday so I can afford the postage now. Of course the only parking space is the furthest from the door. I lead the kids across the small but busy parking lot to stand on the sidewalk while I navigate the boxes over. Its ok. You can laugh at the visual. “Stay there” means something COMPLETELY different when you’re 3 & 5 than when you’re 41.
Two merciful women open the door for us and as we enter, the devil enters my children because they start spinning around and bumping into each other as loud and on purpose as possible. A postal employee comes over and offers to assist me on the automated machine even though they are oversized packages. She tries to instruct me on the machine and the computer screens. Meanwhile, Thing 1 and Thing 2 are smacking into each other laughing, spinning, hugging and falling over. Eventually Annaliese hits the floor elbow first. Silence. The wind up. The pitch. Here it is: waaaaaAAAAAAAAA! Undaunted, the postal employee continues through the turmoil but eventually sees the futility and does it all for me without a huff or a puff or an eye roll. She was awesome and must have her own Things 1 & 2 or remembers what it was like.
So for all the time I have ever complained about the U.S. Postal Service employees, I take it back. I give a standing ovation to the North Aurora, IL staff. Thank you for serving so well. I am SO going back to get her name and tell her personally. Alone.
OK, I don’t set perfect examples for my kids to follow. “WHAT?!” you say? I know. Hard to believe. Just check out my “tips” category. Anyway, my mouth gets me in trouble. Like the time I told JD I was tired of all the crap on the living room floor to which he responded “what crap, Mom?” Yeah. More $$ to the therapy fund. Well this is one of those “when will they repeat what I said” moments. But I defend it 100%!!!
Pulling into the gas station today I pull up right next to a man pumping gas and having a cigarette–standing next to his gas tank. Seriously. It wasn’t that big a vehicle. Could you not WAIT 10 STINKIN’ MINUTES BEFORE BLOWING UP THE REST OF US??!! And in the spirit of my mood, I exclaimed under my breath(sort of) “what is this idiot doing?”
Its always JD(5). I know he’s going to call some kid an idiot most likely in the middle of the church lobby. Its always church. Because of course when we go to church, everyone knows our family would NEVER say or do anything inappropriate. That would totally blow our cover.
I still think the guy smoking while pumping gas was acting like an idiot.
Is it ok to do the crossword puzzle in the lunchroom copy of the newspaper?
Is it ok to take home the lunchroom copy of the newspaper at the end of the day or are you supposed to let it be thrown out?
How long do you have to wait to throw out the community treats that were brought in? Til they’re all gone or til the doughnut that no one likes sits for 2 days just to be sure no one wants it?
If carrying on a conversation in the bathroom when the two of you are washing your hands, do you talk to the reflection of the other person in the mirror or should you look right at them? If they are talking to your reflection, are you obligated to talk to theirs?
Is it wrong to sing along with the piped in music just because you know it and not because you like it?
My former roommate(a world traveler) told me that Americans are the only people who smile for their ID photos–passports, driver’s licenses, etc. When you think about it, when are we most likely crabby? While traveling of course or when asked to show a driver’s license to the cordial yet unsympathetic police officer who felt it necessary to pull over a woman in an SUV with 2 small children who obviously needed to be somewhere. Oh. Sorry.
Well, I had it happen again. I had to ask for an ID the other day (I work part-time as a drive up bank teller) for someone whose name sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place the face. She was sitting about two lanes away and in the evening, the shadows hid part of her face. And, her transaction required me to ask for ID. Then I saw it. The look. The eye roll connected to the head shake. The irritation. The utter disdain towards me and my nerve. Without a word, she threw her ID into the canister and dropped it in the tube. Are you getting this? She was p.o.’d.
And you know what? I finally recognized her. Not by the face she came in with, but by the insulted, irritated, crabby face she turned into. “How sad,” I thought. Her most recognizable quality was her disgust.
After completing the transaction, I thanked her for sending the ID and explained that I hadn’t been able to see her clearly at first, thus the request. No response. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Just took her envelope, threw it on the passenger seat and drove off.
I got to wondering how others best recognize me? It made me paranoid. I think I’ll go practice smiling in the mirror. And if I show up at your bank, feel free to card me. My license picture is one of my better ones.