This is my 100th post.
It's only taken me over 6 years to get to 100! Well - that and cancer. Let's face it, I didn't start blogging on a regular basis again until I started fighting cancer.
Last week, my husband and I went down to Houston for a consult at MD Anderson. We were hoping that I might qualify for a clinical trial - we had always said if I recurred, we would go there. So - we did.
To be honest, down deep, I hoped I would go down there, and the doctor would tell me "Don't worry! We'll cure you!" I know it wasn't a reasonable hope, but there it is. Needless to say, that wasn't what he said. He did tell us that all of their clinical trials at the moment required coming to MD Anderson weekly. We are 9 hours away from Houston, so that wasn't an option for us. So he told us about several different second line chemo options, and gave us his recommendation for which one he would put me on if I was being treated down there. He is supposed to send that to my oncologist here, and I meet with him in a week or so.
I have very mixed feelings about going back on chemo. On one hand, I'm ready to start doing something before the cancer gets any worse. My ascites in my abdomen is starting back up, and the fluid around my left lung is increasing. The doctor in Houston was able to actually feel nodules during my physical exam. I don't like sitting here knowing that it's growing unchecked at the moment, gnawing away at my insides like a rat that's found its way into a bag of grain.
That doesn't mean that I'm excited about being on chemo again. Although this new regimen is supposed to be less harsh on my body - not as much nausea, I might not even lose my hair although it may thin - fatigue is supposed to be a big side effect. I don't feel like I have that much energy right now, so that's a worry. And any nausea is going to suck.
I try to look for silver linings. While nausea sucks, maybe then I'll lose some of this weight I've gained back since I was able to eat everything again. My hair came in so thick that a little thinning will probably just make it look like it did before I lost it all. One of the new chemo drugs is supposed to work well on ascites, so that should go away quickly, and maybe I'll even get to where I can get this last catheter out.
Most of all, I can continue to fight this lousy disease off. Maybe - because I'm Stage IV - I can't be cured. But as long as I can fight, I can live with stable disease. I can learn to live with cancer.
On the home front, my youngest was nominated for homecoming court this year. While he wasn't elected king, we still got a kick out of him being nominated. He looked very handsome at the pep rally last week, and he managed to make his mama both cry and laugh within two minutes. I'm so glad I'm still here to enjoy his senior year. I'm bummed however, that every. single.one of the pictures I took of him at the pep rally were blurry. My only hope is that the mom of the girl he was paired with will share her pictures!
The garden is winding down. I'm happy to report that I indeed get 1st place in the biggest watermelon contest at the fair this year. Our entry was 40 pounds, and I'm already plotting how to grow one even bigger next year. But there is one goal met, eh? We didn't get as many potatoes this year as we did last year, but we did get some. The black eyed peas are just about dead, and the green beans are debating how much longer they're willing to put out. Our cantaloupes, after producing a ridiculous amount of large tasty melons, suddenly died out in about 3 days...some sort of powdery mildew looking stuff wiped them out. I almost ate so much cantaloupe that I got sick of it. Almost. I've always loved cantaloupe. We did have to share with friends - when you are picking 7 or 8 large cantaloupe a day, there's no way you can eat it all.
We still have a few watermelons we need to eat, and our peas and snow peas are growing quite well. We noticed yesterday that the peas are blooming and making peas, so I'm really looking forward to having fresh peas in a few weeks. If you've never had fresh peas from the garden, you have no idea what you're missing!
So - wish me luck as I start this whole crazy battle up again. I'll take any prayers, good wishes, happy thoughts and positive energy you can spare. Because I'm not ready to give up by any means.
I'm determined I'm going to live with cancer. Whether cancer likes that or not. Bring it, bitch.
I ain't skeered. (much)
Ramblings of a mom and wife that just moved from a little city to a teeny town, and is currently in the process of battling ovarian cancer.
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Sunday, October 06, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
What Boys Are Made Of
"Snakes and snails, and puppy dog tails - that's what little boys are made of."
Trying to figure out what to blog - and when to blog it - is a ongoing struggle. There are things going on that I'm not comfortable sharing with the world at large - much of it having to do with my family. I try to remember that just because I have cancer doesn't meant that they should lose their privacy. My husband has been very supportive of my writing here, but I think my boys struggle with it.
They're at difficult ages - 18 and 20. They are dealing with something I never had to face at their ages - the prospect of possibly losing their mom to cancer. I don't know how to help them deal with it as I have no experience at that age to draw on. As they have gone through other things growing up, I always had *something* that I could draw on - but this? I'm clueless.
My mom is still alive and well and healthy. My dad as well. My beloved Aunt Linda passed away when I was in my mid-twenties, and let's face it - we're a lot more grown up and settled at 24 or 25 than we are at 18 or 20. At 18 and 20 we are still trying to figure out who we are, and what we want to do with our lives, and how we want to do that. Those are tough things to figure out - and I would imagine even tougher to really think about when your mind keeps turning to "my mom is sick...my mom might die...my mom is better! my mom's cancer is coming back..."
We have offered counseling to both of them. But they are boys, raised in redneck country, and I get the feeling that they feel like it wouldn't be "manly" or something if they went. So as far as I know, they talk about it with their friends, and I hope and pray that it's enough. And I hope and pray that if they need more, that either one of them will feel comfortable enough to come to me or their dad and ask.
I get the impression from them that they are tired of mom worrying about them so much. Both do their best to reassure me when they can that they are fine, that they are handling the chaos that comes with a parent with cancer just fine. Being just 18 and 20, they can't begin to understand the love that a parent has for a child. They just can't - no more than I could until I had children of my own. They think I'm worrying unnecessarily. The love of a parent for a child cannot be explained to someone who doesn't have children - either of the body or of their heart - it doesn't matter. It's just a different kind of love. It can be overwhelming at times - for the parent as well as the child. And it is oh-so-hard to let that child go out there and make their own decisions and choices.
But we have to - the whole idea is to raise them so they are able to make it on their own someday. I have to trust that everything their dad and I tried to teach them over the last 18 and 20 years will find fertile ground in their hearts. I have to trust in their choices, even if those choices might not be *my* choices. I won't lie - it's hard - so very hard. It's doubly hard when you're aware that you might not be around when they finally get it all together. That you might not see them finish college, find a career that they love, marry, or have children of their own.
Sometimes that is what hurts the most - the possibility that I might never know my own grandchildren. I am almost positive that I'll never know my own great-grandchildren. It pisses me off. Except for my grandmother who passed away from ovarian cancer in her 50's, the rest of my relatives were fairly long-lived. My dad's father is in his 90's and still kickin'. I had every expectation of living to be a sorta sweet little old lady, spoiling her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Now? I'm not so sure.
So I try to trust in our raisin' of them. I pray for them every chance I get. I try to be available to them in case they want to talk - and if they aren't comfortable talking to me, or their dad, I'm supportive of them talking to anyone else that might help them get through all this. But most of all - I just try to love them without smothering them. It's hard to do when you don't know if you'll have months or years or decades to show them how much you love them. I just hope for the best. I hope that what they are made of is strong stuff.
And maybe - just maybe - if all of y'all reading this can drop a prayer to the deity of your choice, maybe my boys will be ok.
It's not too much to ask, is it?
Trying to figure out what to blog - and when to blog it - is a ongoing struggle. There are things going on that I'm not comfortable sharing with the world at large - much of it having to do with my family. I try to remember that just because I have cancer doesn't meant that they should lose their privacy. My husband has been very supportive of my writing here, but I think my boys struggle with it.
They're at difficult ages - 18 and 20. They are dealing with something I never had to face at their ages - the prospect of possibly losing their mom to cancer. I don't know how to help them deal with it as I have no experience at that age to draw on. As they have gone through other things growing up, I always had *something* that I could draw on - but this? I'm clueless.
My mom is still alive and well and healthy. My dad as well. My beloved Aunt Linda passed away when I was in my mid-twenties, and let's face it - we're a lot more grown up and settled at 24 or 25 than we are at 18 or 20. At 18 and 20 we are still trying to figure out who we are, and what we want to do with our lives, and how we want to do that. Those are tough things to figure out - and I would imagine even tougher to really think about when your mind keeps turning to "my mom is sick...my mom might die...my mom is better! my mom's cancer is coming back..."
We have offered counseling to both of them. But they are boys, raised in redneck country, and I get the feeling that they feel like it wouldn't be "manly" or something if they went. So as far as I know, they talk about it with their friends, and I hope and pray that it's enough. And I hope and pray that if they need more, that either one of them will feel comfortable enough to come to me or their dad and ask.
I get the impression from them that they are tired of mom worrying about them so much. Both do their best to reassure me when they can that they are fine, that they are handling the chaos that comes with a parent with cancer just fine. Being just 18 and 20, they can't begin to understand the love that a parent has for a child. They just can't - no more than I could until I had children of my own. They think I'm worrying unnecessarily. The love of a parent for a child cannot be explained to someone who doesn't have children - either of the body or of their heart - it doesn't matter. It's just a different kind of love. It can be overwhelming at times - for the parent as well as the child. And it is oh-so-hard to let that child go out there and make their own decisions and choices.
But we have to - the whole idea is to raise them so they are able to make it on their own someday. I have to trust that everything their dad and I tried to teach them over the last 18 and 20 years will find fertile ground in their hearts. I have to trust in their choices, even if those choices might not be *my* choices. I won't lie - it's hard - so very hard. It's doubly hard when you're aware that you might not be around when they finally get it all together. That you might not see them finish college, find a career that they love, marry, or have children of their own.
Sometimes that is what hurts the most - the possibility that I might never know my own grandchildren. I am almost positive that I'll never know my own great-grandchildren. It pisses me off. Except for my grandmother who passed away from ovarian cancer in her 50's, the rest of my relatives were fairly long-lived. My dad's father is in his 90's and still kickin'. I had every expectation of living to be a sorta sweet little old lady, spoiling her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Now? I'm not so sure.
So I try to trust in our raisin' of them. I pray for them every chance I get. I try to be available to them in case they want to talk - and if they aren't comfortable talking to me, or their dad, I'm supportive of them talking to anyone else that might help them get through all this. But most of all - I just try to love them without smothering them. It's hard to do when you don't know if you'll have months or years or decades to show them how much you love them. I just hope for the best. I hope that what they are made of is strong stuff.
And maybe - just maybe - if all of y'all reading this can drop a prayer to the deity of your choice, maybe my boys will be ok.
It's not too much to ask, is it?
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Braaaiiinnnsss.....I Want Braiiiiiinnnnnssss....
Yesterday was a good brain day.
Since I started treatment, I don't think as well as I used to. I used to be pretty sharp. For the first few months after my surgery, I was on so many medications, my brain was a little foggy. It was hard to concentrate. I didn't really read anything but Facebook posts for over two months. For me, that was beyond weird. I'm a reader. I was always reading a book or magazine. It took awhile before I was able to concentrate well enough to read magazine articles. Then I worked my way up to "fluff" novels - the kind you don't have to think too hard with - no complicated plots to try to remember. I finally worked my way up to the Game of Thrones series - then I knew I was ready to go back to work. Try reading those books back to back and keep up with who is doing what to whom. That's a pretty good sign your brain is working again.
Since I've been back, one of the things I've struggled with is concentration. Most days I do pretty well. But every so often - usually within a week or so of chemo, and certainly the days right after chemo - I have a foggy day. A day where if a faculty member asks me a question, I let them know that I don't know, but I'll look it up. I know I won't be able to look it up that day....most likely if I happened to remember where to look it up, I might not understand it fully anyway. I've actually put off doing a project for my boss because I knew it was one that I needed a sharp day to even understand what she wanted....and not every day is a sharp day.
It's frustrating. I had heard of chemo brain during my treatment, but actually experiencing it is unsettling. Sometimes it's just taking longer to figure something out. Sometimes it's searching for a word. Sometimes it's using the wrong word. And sometimes it's looking at a form you've completed dozens of times and thinking you're doing it correctly, then having it come back with instructions on how to do it right.
Yeah - that's embarrassing. I'm sure folks in other departments around campus are getting annoyed at getting screwed up stuff. It hasn't happened *alot* - but the fact that it's happening at all bothers me. So - I look up directions on how to do stuff that I used to not think twice about. I make my to do list more often. I go through my email even more often to make sure I don't miss deadlines. I try to remind myself that it's all part of the process - the process of getting better, of recovery. And it won't be this way forever.
This morning I had CT scans to see where we are at with my cancer. I've had the 6 carbo/taxol chemo treatments that are the standard front line of care for ovarian cancer. I still have some fluid around my lungs, so I don't expect to be considered NED (aka - no evidence of disease) just yet. But I'm optimistic that I'm close to that. That my cancer has responded well to chemo, and maybe I just need one or two more treatments to finish it off. I'll find out next Wednesday. Y'all keep me in your prayers until then.
Now - for something non-cancer related! My youngest son J competed in the District/Area track meet for his school a few weeks ago - and placed 2nd in District and 4th in Area! We are so proud of him. This qualified him to go to Regionals for the first time. That was the goal he had set for himself, and I'm so glad he reached it. Unfortunately, he had a bad day throwing at Regionals - nerves I guess. But next year he'll be a senior, and he has this experience to learn from.
If I haven't mentioned it before, we have a cow and chickens on our place out in the boonies. Currently Steak (our cow) is off at my cousin's place meeting some boys. We're hoping she's playing the hussy and getting herself knocked up. Ha! Maybe once she's had a calf, I'll change her name to Lactation. (Yes - we're terribly inappropriate in our naming of livestock. We are rednecks. We don't hide that. We wear it like a big ole badge!)
I'm currently considering names for the chickens - right now, Fricasse, Parmesan, and Korma are my favorites. Let me know if you have any suggestions - I've got 13 chickens to name - 3 of 'em roosters.
It looks like we're expecting yet another freeze tomorrow night. I have 8 tomato plants that are trying to find a way out of the house. And I'm about ready to hunt down Mother Nature and provide her with some damn Midol because seriously? It's May. There is no need for this freezing crap in May.
See? Life goes on. Even with cancer. In SPITE of cancer. Because that's the way it should be.
Since I started treatment, I don't think as well as I used to. I used to be pretty sharp. For the first few months after my surgery, I was on so many medications, my brain was a little foggy. It was hard to concentrate. I didn't really read anything but Facebook posts for over two months. For me, that was beyond weird. I'm a reader. I was always reading a book or magazine. It took awhile before I was able to concentrate well enough to read magazine articles. Then I worked my way up to "fluff" novels - the kind you don't have to think too hard with - no complicated plots to try to remember. I finally worked my way up to the Game of Thrones series - then I knew I was ready to go back to work. Try reading those books back to back and keep up with who is doing what to whom. That's a pretty good sign your brain is working again.
Since I've been back, one of the things I've struggled with is concentration. Most days I do pretty well. But every so often - usually within a week or so of chemo, and certainly the days right after chemo - I have a foggy day. A day where if a faculty member asks me a question, I let them know that I don't know, but I'll look it up. I know I won't be able to look it up that day....most likely if I happened to remember where to look it up, I might not understand it fully anyway. I've actually put off doing a project for my boss because I knew it was one that I needed a sharp day to even understand what she wanted....and not every day is a sharp day.
It's frustrating. I had heard of chemo brain during my treatment, but actually experiencing it is unsettling. Sometimes it's just taking longer to figure something out. Sometimes it's searching for a word. Sometimes it's using the wrong word. And sometimes it's looking at a form you've completed dozens of times and thinking you're doing it correctly, then having it come back with instructions on how to do it right.
Yeah - that's embarrassing. I'm sure folks in other departments around campus are getting annoyed at getting screwed up stuff. It hasn't happened *alot* - but the fact that it's happening at all bothers me. So - I look up directions on how to do stuff that I used to not think twice about. I make my to do list more often. I go through my email even more often to make sure I don't miss deadlines. I try to remind myself that it's all part of the process - the process of getting better, of recovery. And it won't be this way forever.
This morning I had CT scans to see where we are at with my cancer. I've had the 6 carbo/taxol chemo treatments that are the standard front line of care for ovarian cancer. I still have some fluid around my lungs, so I don't expect to be considered NED (aka - no evidence of disease) just yet. But I'm optimistic that I'm close to that. That my cancer has responded well to chemo, and maybe I just need one or two more treatments to finish it off. I'll find out next Wednesday. Y'all keep me in your prayers until then.
Now - for something non-cancer related! My youngest son J competed in the District/Area track meet for his school a few weeks ago - and placed 2nd in District and 4th in Area! We are so proud of him. This qualified him to go to Regionals for the first time. That was the goal he had set for himself, and I'm so glad he reached it. Unfortunately, he had a bad day throwing at Regionals - nerves I guess. But next year he'll be a senior, and he has this experience to learn from.
If I haven't mentioned it before, we have a cow and chickens on our place out in the boonies. Currently Steak (our cow) is off at my cousin's place meeting some boys. We're hoping she's playing the hussy and getting herself knocked up. Ha! Maybe once she's had a calf, I'll change her name to Lactation. (Yes - we're terribly inappropriate in our naming of livestock. We are rednecks. We don't hide that. We wear it like a big ole badge!)
I'm currently considering names for the chickens - right now, Fricasse, Parmesan, and Korma are my favorites. Let me know if you have any suggestions - I've got 13 chickens to name - 3 of 'em roosters.
It looks like we're expecting yet another freeze tomorrow night. I have 8 tomato plants that are trying to find a way out of the house. And I'm about ready to hunt down Mother Nature and provide her with some damn Midol because seriously? It's May. There is no need for this freezing crap in May.
See? Life goes on. Even with cancer. In SPITE of cancer. Because that's the way it should be.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Great Expectations
Expectations. We all have them. We expect things to go a certain way, for our kids to accomplish certain things....
To have chemo when it's scheduled.
*sigh*
I was supposed to have my 6th round of chemo today. Unfortunately, my platelets were too low, so the doc postponed it for a week. I wasn't too surprised - I have been bruising way too easily this week, so I figured my platelets were low. Ask any cancer survivor or patient - we learn to roll with the punches pretty quickly. I just went and grabbed lunch, then went to work. No big deal.
I made the mistake of looking at survival rates for ovarian cancer again the other day. When I first looked it up, I was pretty sure that I'd be Stage 3 - back then, no one told me what stage my cancer was in. And survival rate for 5 years for Stage 3 patients is 30%. Not a great rate to be sure, but shoot, my mom-in-law had a 35% chance of survival for her Stage 4 non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and she's been in complete remission for a few years now. 30% was totally doable.
Do you know what the survival rate for Stage 4 ovarian cancer is? 18%. Yeah. That was quite a punch. I quietly freaked out over that number for several days. 18%? Holy cow - that's hardly anyone! Should I start deciding who gets my cool stuff? My darling hubby could probably care less about my beloved vintage candy dishes, blue glass vases and baskets that were my grandmothers, and vintage hats. I'm pretty sure my boys don't care either. But I don't want them thrown away - that stuff is awesome! Should I start a will? Prepare a living directive? Plan my funeral? Put little tags on the bottom of everything that says "This goes to De Lyn. I don't care if she doesn't have room for more crap. Give it to her anyway."
And then a still small voice spoke in my heart. That voice said "somebody has to make up that 18%. Why not you? You have the right things going for you - under 50 when diagnosed, pretty darn healthy except for the cancer thing, good attitude, responding well to chemo, tons of sweet people praying for you, stubborn as a mule..."
(Funny thing about that still small voice - I'm pretty sure it's the voice of my heavenly Father, and he knows me better than anyone. Including that whole stubborn thing)
Suddenly, I wasn't really freaking out anymore. Sure, I think my chances of living to be 93 like my Granpa are pretty slim, but I bet I make it another 5 years. Heck, I think the chances are pretty good to make it another 20 years. Because they are coming up with new treatments all the time, and doing more and more research on ovarian cancer and who knows? They could come up with a cure in the next few years. And I intend on being around for that cure. So there, panic attack. Take a hike.
Another expectation? My youngest had his district/area track meet today for discus. I expected him to do ok. He placed 2nd in District and 4th in Area. Woohoo!!! He gets to go to Regionals. We're so tickled for him. I'm especially tickled that I didn't miss his last meet after all! Heh.
Now my family expects me to cook supper for them tonight, since I don't have the whole "I'm tired from chemo" excuse, so I'm off to take care of that. And damn happy to do it.
To have chemo when it's scheduled.
*sigh*
I was supposed to have my 6th round of chemo today. Unfortunately, my platelets were too low, so the doc postponed it for a week. I wasn't too surprised - I have been bruising way too easily this week, so I figured my platelets were low. Ask any cancer survivor or patient - we learn to roll with the punches pretty quickly. I just went and grabbed lunch, then went to work. No big deal.
I made the mistake of looking at survival rates for ovarian cancer again the other day. When I first looked it up, I was pretty sure that I'd be Stage 3 - back then, no one told me what stage my cancer was in. And survival rate for 5 years for Stage 3 patients is 30%. Not a great rate to be sure, but shoot, my mom-in-law had a 35% chance of survival for her Stage 4 non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and she's been in complete remission for a few years now. 30% was totally doable.
Do you know what the survival rate for Stage 4 ovarian cancer is? 18%. Yeah. That was quite a punch. I quietly freaked out over that number for several days. 18%? Holy cow - that's hardly anyone! Should I start deciding who gets my cool stuff? My darling hubby could probably care less about my beloved vintage candy dishes, blue glass vases and baskets that were my grandmothers, and vintage hats. I'm pretty sure my boys don't care either. But I don't want them thrown away - that stuff is awesome! Should I start a will? Prepare a living directive? Plan my funeral? Put little tags on the bottom of everything that says "This goes to De Lyn. I don't care if she doesn't have room for more crap. Give it to her anyway."
And then a still small voice spoke in my heart. That voice said "somebody has to make up that 18%. Why not you? You have the right things going for you - under 50 when diagnosed, pretty darn healthy except for the cancer thing, good attitude, responding well to chemo, tons of sweet people praying for you, stubborn as a mule..."
(Funny thing about that still small voice - I'm pretty sure it's the voice of my heavenly Father, and he knows me better than anyone. Including that whole stubborn thing)
Suddenly, I wasn't really freaking out anymore. Sure, I think my chances of living to be 93 like my Granpa are pretty slim, but I bet I make it another 5 years. Heck, I think the chances are pretty good to make it another 20 years. Because they are coming up with new treatments all the time, and doing more and more research on ovarian cancer and who knows? They could come up with a cure in the next few years. And I intend on being around for that cure. So there, panic attack. Take a hike.
Another expectation? My youngest had his district/area track meet today for discus. I expected him to do ok. He placed 2nd in District and 4th in Area. Woohoo!!! He gets to go to Regionals. We're so tickled for him. I'm especially tickled that I didn't miss his last meet after all! Heh.
Now my family expects me to cook supper for them tonight, since I don't have the whole "I'm tired from chemo" excuse, so I'm off to take care of that. And damn happy to do it.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Vacation Gone Wild
So I took a vacation from work.
It was meant to be a “work around the home place” vacation – one where I caught up on my weeding, put down newspaper and cardboard mulch in the garden to keep from having to weed more, cleaned my house from top to bottom, and re-do the brick walkway in the backyard with landscape fabric to get rid of the grass going crazy and trying to invade my herb garden and strawberry bed. It was going to be a great plan.
Didn’t work out that way.
Friday, July 1st, I developed a tooth abscess. To the point we had to call and bother my dentist at 9 pm so he could call in a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics. At 10 am on Saturday, we met my most kind dentist at his office and he ground that particular tooth down and suggested we might have to pull it since it’s already had two root canals – the most recent one just a few months ago. Woohoo! By 2 pm that afternoon, we discovered I cannot take hydrocodone with acetaminophen without getting nauseous and all those fun things that go along with nausea. By 4 pm, I looked like a chipmunk storing nuts for the winter in my cheek.
Not the best look for me. Just sayin'.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much yard work done last week. And we won’t even go into the whole unsuccessful IUD retrieval procedure on Tuesday. It was not my week.
But – I did finally get my house cleaned. Well, parts of it anyway. And the strawberry bed got weeded. We also harvested our first yellow squash from the one volunteer squash plant that came up in the corn. None of our melon/squash/cucumber section came up. Only volunteers in other parts of the garden. We’re grateful for whatever did come up since it’s been so darn dry this year. We’ve had maybe an inch and a half of rain since January. We see clouds and get our hopes up, then it rains somewhere else. *sigh*
My Rhode Island red hen is sitting on banty eggs at the moment. She tries sitting on the leghorn’s eggs, but since we don’t have a full size rooster, we sneak those out when she’s eating, since nothing is going to hatch out of those eggs anyway. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that maybe we’ll get a few new babies!
I’ve lost 5 of my tater plants – I’m not sure what is killing them underground, but it’s annoying me to no end. And I’ve yet to see a single new potato on the others. Methinks this tater experiment might be a failure. Luckily the onions are doing pretty well, so I don’t feel like a total root crop failure.
My eldest son turned 18 yesterday. I’m having a bit of a crisis about it – but quietly, because how silly is it to have a crisis about the fact you managed to raise a handsome, intelligent, witty, kindhearted child to the age of 18? But really – 18? How did that happen? It’s just surreal. Does this make me officially old?
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Changing Seasons
Well hello there! I've been very remiss in my blog duties this year - I blame my job. I've been having to work of all things. (Oh - I kid. Really. Mostly.)
Anyhoo - life in Hicksville has been hot and dry this year. We're in the midst of an extreme drought of Dustbowl preportions - complete with the appearance of haboobs. I think we have had a grand total of maybe an inch of rain since January, which has stressed my garden to no end.
This year, we decided to attempt growing potatoes and onions - you know - root vegetables that are 90% WATER. Yeah - not the greatest idea, but to be perfectly honest they're growing better than nearly anything else in the garden. Certainly better than my corn and green beans and black-eyed peas. Those have been plagued with being planted a bit too deep and not coming up (my fault), evil grackles coming along and pecking the seeds out of the ground when they weren't planted deep enough (evil birds' fault) and windburned because my heavens - the wind - it won't stop blowing. So I'm not very optimistic that I'm going to have much of a corn crop this year. Heck - at this point I doubt I'll be able to even can much in the way of green beans and black eyed peas. I think we'll have enough for meals once they start producing, but canning? Not so much.
None of my cucumbers came up. Neither did the cantaloupe, the honeydew, the squash or pumpkins. One watermelon that we intentionally planted came up. Luckily, we have volunteer squash and cantaloupe coming up by the corn & beans, and volunteer watermelon everywhere. But I was really hoping to make pickles this year. Hmph.
But hey! I have 102 onions growing, and 34 potato plants. If I can get at least a couple of pounds of taters out of each tater plant, I'll be happy. We decided to mulch around the tomatoes and peppers this year, using a thick layer of newspapers covered with landscape fabric, and we already have little green tomatoes. I attempted yet again to grow tomatoes from seed as well, and so far have around 12 that have survived and are just about ready to be planted and covered with a milk jug until they're big enough to survive the desert on their own. Unfortunately, the wind got my peppers. That makes me very sad.
This year, we also applied something called BiotaMax to the garden. An old buddy of mine from high school has a company that came up with it, and when he heard me blathering on about gardening on Facebook, he sent me a sample. I can't help but wonder if that's why my tomatoes are doing as well as they are in all this heat and wind, but it's too early to tell. Apparently it doesn't ward off those damn grackles. We applied it to half of the new strawberry plants we put in this year to see if we could compare. I'll show pictures at the end of the summer and let everyone judge for themselves if it made any difference. Right now, the strawberries are struggling to survive in this heat. Today it's only going to be in the mid to upper 90's. Tomorrow - back to the 100's for the foreseeable future. I like summer and I like the heat, but dang - I'm dreading July!
Now for the chicken update - one of the banty hens was setting for awhile, but apparently we messed with her eggs one too many times, so she up and said 'pfft' and that was that. No baby chicks this year. Although our bedraggled Rhode Island Red went broody on us this weekend. Poor darlin' - we don't have any full sized roosters, so she's sitting for naught. The hubs is supposed to be tracking down some fertilized full size eggs for her to set on, but hasn't located any just yet. I hope we can find some - I love baby chicks!
The boys are enjoying summer so far - sleepin' til noon, then playing video games all day. I can't really blame them - it's too hot to work outside by the time they get up, and it's not cooling off until 8 or 9 pm at night. E has his first job not working for a relative this summer - he's a sacker at a grocery store in Mid-Size City and loving not having to ask mom and dad for money all the time. (Mom and Dad are enjoying that just as much!) E still struggles with being accepted out here and right now the other boys are still boys. I'm not sure when teenage boys grow out of being little turds and embracing the mob mentality, but apparently it's not the summer after junior year. *sigh* Luckily J has embraced the "whatever dude - who cares what you think about me?" attitude and doesn't seem to be bothered by the mob. I'm hoping E does the same soon. He's such a smart, witty kid. Too bad the mob doesn't have the maturity to get that.
As for me and the hubs, we are slowly learning to adjust to life with boys that are fixin to be men. While we enjoy being able to do more without having to track down babysitters, I have to admit missing all the time we used to spend together as a family. Thanks to his work, poor E wasn't able to go with us to see the 1st three blockbusters of the summer movie season - and who knows when he'll be able to? We're lucky if we get a couple of dinners together as a family every week between E's job, and summer workouts and just life in general. And J is about to start driver's ed. I know it's just part of the season of our lives right now, but I still struggle with having to let them go.
Darn kids - who said they could grow up?
Anyhoo - life in Hicksville has been hot and dry this year. We're in the midst of an extreme drought of Dustbowl preportions - complete with the appearance of haboobs. I think we have had a grand total of maybe an inch of rain since January, which has stressed my garden to no end.
This year, we decided to attempt growing potatoes and onions - you know - root vegetables that are 90% WATER. Yeah - not the greatest idea, but to be perfectly honest they're growing better than nearly anything else in the garden. Certainly better than my corn and green beans and black-eyed peas. Those have been plagued with being planted a bit too deep and not coming up (my fault), evil grackles coming along and pecking the seeds out of the ground when they weren't planted deep enough (evil birds' fault) and windburned because my heavens - the wind - it won't stop blowing. So I'm not very optimistic that I'm going to have much of a corn crop this year. Heck - at this point I doubt I'll be able to even can much in the way of green beans and black eyed peas. I think we'll have enough for meals once they start producing, but canning? Not so much.
None of my cucumbers came up. Neither did the cantaloupe, the honeydew, the squash or pumpkins. One watermelon that we intentionally planted came up. Luckily, we have volunteer squash and cantaloupe coming up by the corn & beans, and volunteer watermelon everywhere. But I was really hoping to make pickles this year. Hmph.
But hey! I have 102 onions growing, and 34 potato plants. If I can get at least a couple of pounds of taters out of each tater plant, I'll be happy. We decided to mulch around the tomatoes and peppers this year, using a thick layer of newspapers covered with landscape fabric, and we already have little green tomatoes. I attempted yet again to grow tomatoes from seed as well, and so far have around 12 that have survived and are just about ready to be planted and covered with a milk jug until they're big enough to survive the desert on their own. Unfortunately, the wind got my peppers. That makes me very sad.
This year, we also applied something called BiotaMax to the garden. An old buddy of mine from high school has a company that came up with it, and when he heard me blathering on about gardening on Facebook, he sent me a sample. I can't help but wonder if that's why my tomatoes are doing as well as they are in all this heat and wind, but it's too early to tell. Apparently it doesn't ward off those damn grackles. We applied it to half of the new strawberry plants we put in this year to see if we could compare. I'll show pictures at the end of the summer and let everyone judge for themselves if it made any difference. Right now, the strawberries are struggling to survive in this heat. Today it's only going to be in the mid to upper 90's. Tomorrow - back to the 100's for the foreseeable future. I like summer and I like the heat, but dang - I'm dreading July!
Now for the chicken update - one of the banty hens was setting for awhile, but apparently we messed with her eggs one too many times, so she up and said 'pfft' and that was that. No baby chicks this year. Although our bedraggled Rhode Island Red went broody on us this weekend. Poor darlin' - we don't have any full sized roosters, so she's sitting for naught. The hubs is supposed to be tracking down some fertilized full size eggs for her to set on, but hasn't located any just yet. I hope we can find some - I love baby chicks!
The boys are enjoying summer so far - sleepin' til noon, then playing video games all day. I can't really blame them - it's too hot to work outside by the time they get up, and it's not cooling off until 8 or 9 pm at night. E has his first job not working for a relative this summer - he's a sacker at a grocery store in Mid-Size City and loving not having to ask mom and dad for money all the time. (Mom and Dad are enjoying that just as much!) E still struggles with being accepted out here and right now the other boys are still boys. I'm not sure when teenage boys grow out of being little turds and embracing the mob mentality, but apparently it's not the summer after junior year. *sigh* Luckily J has embraced the "whatever dude - who cares what you think about me?" attitude and doesn't seem to be bothered by the mob. I'm hoping E does the same soon. He's such a smart, witty kid. Too bad the mob doesn't have the maturity to get that.
As for me and the hubs, we are slowly learning to adjust to life with boys that are fixin to be men. While we enjoy being able to do more without having to track down babysitters, I have to admit missing all the time we used to spend together as a family. Thanks to his work, poor E wasn't able to go with us to see the 1st three blockbusters of the summer movie season - and who knows when he'll be able to? We're lucky if we get a couple of dinners together as a family every week between E's job, and summer workouts and just life in general. And J is about to start driver's ed. I know it's just part of the season of our lives right now, but I still struggle with having to let them go.
Darn kids - who said they could grow up?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sports, Band and Trees - Oh My
Let me begin by just stating - I am a sports fan. Even more - I am a hockey fan. I completely understand how a person can get caught up in a game and lose perspective.
But you would think parents would be able to behave better.
Last night, E had his 2nd basketball game. We played at home. We played a team from a prep school nearby, and we were obviously playing their A team. E, since he did not play last year, is on the B team for Hicksville Middle School. The team they were playing was very good. They came out to rousing start and quickly managed to lead by over 20 points. Their kids made fancy jump shots from all over. They had fancy passing patterns and executed them flawlessly. And the parents were very enthusiastic in their support of their kids. I have no objections to that. Truly I don't.
I do have objections to those parents taking up the home section of the stands. We have a very nice visitor's section. I fail to see why the parents couldn't do all their whoopin' and hollerin' from that section, instead of insisting upon sitting in our section and being obnoxious.
Not only that, but if you're going to sit in the home team's section of the stands, and make a spectacle of yourselves when your team is winning, do not get annoyed when our little ole B team manages to come back in the 4th and WIN the game, ok? I mean really - if you can whoop and holler, so can we. And we're hicks - so we're *expected* to act that way. You people are the ones who send your hot shot kids to a fancy prep school - show some class already!
This concludes my fan rant.
In other news, the mom-in-law is doing great. She is scheduled to have a PET scan, and we are cautiously optimistic that the scan will come back clear. For the one or two folks that read my silly ole blog, please continue to keep her in your prayers.
E's football season ended with him scoring a few extra points, and the team winning district overall. The high school team made the playoffs, and won the Bi-District title, but then lost last week. It was still an awesome year for them. The band qualified for the area competition, but failed to make the state competition. We are still very proud of how well they did this year as well.
J is having a rougher year as a middle schooler. He just doesn't see the point of not only doing his homework, but turning it in. Consequently, he has been grounded until those grades come up. *sigh* It would be one thing if he just didn't get the material - but he aces his tests. He just doesn't like homework. He's also been branded "weird" by the oh-so-knowledgeable 6th grade girl club. J has always been an individual, with a highly active imagination. Apparently that's not appreciated by middle schoolers out here. If anyone has any advice on how to comfort a sensitive, kind 12 yr old boy who thinks "any girl would be crazy to like me," I'd sure appreciate it.
The days are getting cooler out in the boonies, and the nights even colder. My beautiful ceramic tile in the kitchen is pretty darn cold in the mornings, so I picked up some slippers at Target during the big ole Black Friday sale. My boys (all 3 of them) are pretty amused to see me padding around the house rockin my new cheetah print slippers and red fleece with snowmen robe. Pfft. *I* like 'em. And they're warm. So there.
The tree is up, although I forgot to put the garland on before I put all the ornaments on. It's still pretty. I've been hanging fake pine garlands all over the place where I can - oddly enough, lengths that were perfect for my old house seem kinda short in this one. I'm making do. I may give in and buy a couple of new ones. But until then, I'm just having fun finding new places for all my Christmas stuff. I've started my Christmas shopping, and I'm *hoping* that I'll be done before the middle of December. Yeah - I know, but we all gotta have dreams, right?
We have planted more trees on our land, and just ordered a ton more from the Soil & Water conservation people. Someday we'll have a windbreak. Until then, the porch will be deserted until spring arrives. I'll miss watching the sunsets.
Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.
But you would think parents would be able to behave better.
Last night, E had his 2nd basketball game. We played at home. We played a team from a prep school nearby, and we were obviously playing their A team. E, since he did not play last year, is on the B team for Hicksville Middle School. The team they were playing was very good. They came out to rousing start and quickly managed to lead by over 20 points. Their kids made fancy jump shots from all over. They had fancy passing patterns and executed them flawlessly. And the parents were very enthusiastic in their support of their kids. I have no objections to that. Truly I don't.
I do have objections to those parents taking up the home section of the stands. We have a very nice visitor's section. I fail to see why the parents couldn't do all their whoopin' and hollerin' from that section, instead of insisting upon sitting in our section and being obnoxious.
Not only that, but if you're going to sit in the home team's section of the stands, and make a spectacle of yourselves when your team is winning, do not get annoyed when our little ole B team manages to come back in the 4th and WIN the game, ok? I mean really - if you can whoop and holler, so can we. And we're hicks - so we're *expected* to act that way. You people are the ones who send your hot shot kids to a fancy prep school - show some class already!
This concludes my fan rant.
In other news, the mom-in-law is doing great. She is scheduled to have a PET scan, and we are cautiously optimistic that the scan will come back clear. For the one or two folks that read my silly ole blog, please continue to keep her in your prayers.
E's football season ended with him scoring a few extra points, and the team winning district overall. The high school team made the playoffs, and won the Bi-District title, but then lost last week. It was still an awesome year for them. The band qualified for the area competition, but failed to make the state competition. We are still very proud of how well they did this year as well.
J is having a rougher year as a middle schooler. He just doesn't see the point of not only doing his homework, but turning it in. Consequently, he has been grounded until those grades come up. *sigh* It would be one thing if he just didn't get the material - but he aces his tests. He just doesn't like homework. He's also been branded "weird" by the oh-so-knowledgeable 6th grade girl club. J has always been an individual, with a highly active imagination. Apparently that's not appreciated by middle schoolers out here. If anyone has any advice on how to comfort a sensitive, kind 12 yr old boy who thinks "any girl would be crazy to like me," I'd sure appreciate it.
The days are getting cooler out in the boonies, and the nights even colder. My beautiful ceramic tile in the kitchen is pretty darn cold in the mornings, so I picked up some slippers at Target during the big ole Black Friday sale. My boys (all 3 of them) are pretty amused to see me padding around the house rockin my new cheetah print slippers and red fleece with snowmen robe. Pfft. *I* like 'em. And they're warm. So there.
The tree is up, although I forgot to put the garland on before I put all the ornaments on. It's still pretty. I've been hanging fake pine garlands all over the place where I can - oddly enough, lengths that were perfect for my old house seem kinda short in this one. I'm making do. I may give in and buy a couple of new ones. But until then, I'm just having fun finding new places for all my Christmas stuff. I've started my Christmas shopping, and I'm *hoping* that I'll be done before the middle of December. Yeah - I know, but we all gotta have dreams, right?
We have planted more trees on our land, and just ordered a ton more from the Soil & Water conservation people. Someday we'll have a windbreak. Until then, the porch will be deserted until spring arrives. I'll miss watching the sunsets.
Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Through the years....
I am not a tall person. I'm all of 5'3 and 3/4" tall. (and yes - I do need to mention that 3/4, because when you're short, every. bit.counts!) My husband is taller, but he's still not basketball tall - he's only 5'10" - which is perfect for *me*.
So would someone please tell me how I ended up with a son who is apparently going to be 6'4"???
He has managed to outgrow all of the jeans we bought him at the start of school - the ones I bought kinda long hoping that he'd wear them longer. We already replaced 3 pair around Christmas. Today - as I stood in the new Target and approved the length (I'm tellin ya - I'm not buying any more jeans until next fall darnit!) and fit of 3 more pairs of size 16 boys jeans - I realized.
That's the last time I'll buy him clothes in the boys department.
He'll be 14 this summer. And he's quickly growing out of the size 16 boys clothes - and when I buy him clothes next time - it'll be in the mens department.
The. Mens. Department.
How the heck did that happen? I watched him walk out and place the jeans into the basket and I remembered the tiny baby he was - who gnawed so fiercely on his tiny fist - not understanding why nursing was so hard after being bottle fed by the nurses at the hospital when he had jaundice. And the trusting looks he gave me when he (we) finally figured it out.
I remembered the joyous moment when he smiled at me the first time - and how thrilled I was at that first wide toothless grin. So thrilled I didn't even notice that I had left my car keys in the seat when I took him into the nursery and told everyone he had just! smiled! at! ME! I didn't notice until I tried to open my car door and saw them sitting there - and I just laughed, turned around and went in to call my husband to come let me in my car - but first I told him about that smile.
I remembered his first steps - with his arms flung out to the sides for balance and his smile and his joy at being able to finally walk like the big people in his life. I remembered the first time he patted my pregnant belly and said "hi baby J! Come out now!" And the time he bit his baby brother's toe when I was nursing him.
As I drove us to Sonic for a drink and then home - several E memories floated through my mind. Memories of the story of the baby bear - where he told me they had one in his daycare class - and if they were good they got to take it out and pet it and feed it a little bear chow, and how he told it so convincingly - that even though I *knew* better - I still looked around the room carefully when I dropped him off. I should have known right then that embellishing would be his forte.
That little boy isn't a little boy any more. He's nearly a young man. One that is bright, witty, and onery. And while I'll always miss that little boy that used to run to me when I arrived to pick him up - I'm pretty proud of the young man that saunters up to my truck after school now - even if it does annoy the tar outta me when his first words are "'Sup momsie-o?"
I guess it's just all part of it, eh? And does it make me a total dork that I literally got tears in my eyes about 5 times while typing this?
So would someone please tell me how I ended up with a son who is apparently going to be 6'4"???
He has managed to outgrow all of the jeans we bought him at the start of school - the ones I bought kinda long hoping that he'd wear them longer. We already replaced 3 pair around Christmas. Today - as I stood in the new Target and approved the length (I'm tellin ya - I'm not buying any more jeans until next fall darnit!) and fit of 3 more pairs of size 16 boys jeans - I realized.
That's the last time I'll buy him clothes in the boys department.
He'll be 14 this summer. And he's quickly growing out of the size 16 boys clothes - and when I buy him clothes next time - it'll be in the mens department.
The. Mens. Department.
How the heck did that happen? I watched him walk out and place the jeans into the basket and I remembered the tiny baby he was - who gnawed so fiercely on his tiny fist - not understanding why nursing was so hard after being bottle fed by the nurses at the hospital when he had jaundice. And the trusting looks he gave me when he (we) finally figured it out.
I remembered the joyous moment when he smiled at me the first time - and how thrilled I was at that first wide toothless grin. So thrilled I didn't even notice that I had left my car keys in the seat when I took him into the nursery and told everyone he had just! smiled! at! ME! I didn't notice until I tried to open my car door and saw them sitting there - and I just laughed, turned around and went in to call my husband to come let me in my car - but first I told him about that smile.
I remembered his first steps - with his arms flung out to the sides for balance and his smile and his joy at being able to finally walk like the big people in his life. I remembered the first time he patted my pregnant belly and said "hi baby J! Come out now!" And the time he bit his baby brother's toe when I was nursing him.
As I drove us to Sonic for a drink and then home - several E memories floated through my mind. Memories of the story of the baby bear - where he told me they had one in his daycare class - and if they were good they got to take it out and pet it and feed it a little bear chow, and how he told it so convincingly - that even though I *knew* better - I still looked around the room carefully when I dropped him off. I should have known right then that embellishing would be his forte.
That little boy isn't a little boy any more. He's nearly a young man. One that is bright, witty, and onery. And while I'll always miss that little boy that used to run to me when I arrived to pick him up - I'm pretty proud of the young man that saunters up to my truck after school now - even if it does annoy the tar outta me when his first words are "'Sup momsie-o?"
I guess it's just all part of it, eh? And does it make me a total dork that I literally got tears in my eyes about 5 times while typing this?
Friday, February 16, 2007
Adjusting to Hicksville
I find it ironic that the last post I did was about hockey. Why you ask? Because they fired our coach Sunday night. AFTER a win. A win against a pretty decent team too. Now they've hired some former NHL superstar type who has never coached before for the rest of the season. This should be interesting.
My message board has just been a bundle of fun all WEEK. I don't think we've ever had this kind of traffic before. It just makes me glad we renewed our Gold (aka - no popups) status in the summer - I don't even want to think of what it would cost now to do it.
There are those who think it was wrong to fire our coach this late in the season. They go on and on about how hard he works - and how hard he tries. You know what? William Hung tried really hard too - but he still couldn't sing. If you ain't got the talent, you ain't got the talent, capesh?
The house is coming along - the hubs has painted all the tan walls with two coats, and this weekend we intend to get the color walls done. Then we wait a few days - paint the paneling and the ceilings. Then we get to start cleaning - woohoo!
E is having a harder time adjusting to Hicksville than I had hoped. While he's not getting bullied like he was in the big city, now - he's just kinda ignored. I don't know what to do - or what to tell him. I remember very well what it was like coming into a new school. It's not easy making friends. Sure - at first everyone is nice to you because you're new - but after awhile - if you don't find something in common with them - then they go back to their lives and forget you're there. And for a kid that really seems to *need* buddies - it's so hard for him.
I wonder if it might have been easier if he had stayed in basketball instead of opting for off-season training after football season was over? Now they're about to start track season, and he's going to be involved in that. Maybe that will help?
Of course, it doesn't help that he was struck by the acne curse - from both sides of the family. Both his dad and myself have such oily skin - and he does too. Poor kid - he started getting breakouts when he was 10. Now he's 13 and it's just a never-ending battle just to get him to wash his face twice a day and treat the bigger zits and scrub hard enough to get the blackheads....
Maybe I worry too much? Auuuuugggghhhhh!!!! WHY don't we get a teenager manual? Seriously - what do *I* know about raising a BOY? I was supposed to have DAUGHTERS!!!! Girls that I could teach how to apply makeup so they didn't look like mini-hos, and insist that they start wearing a well fitted bra early so they never had to worry about boob saggage at an early age. GIRLS!!!! By the time my little brother was this age, I was in the midst of teenage rebellion and totally ignored him - I have no idea what to do for E. How to help him make this transition - how to teach him NOT to piss everyone off. Because my son - he doesn't have that filter that keeps us from saying thoughtless stuff. Nope - he's brutally honest with others because he just doesn't filter.
He also tries to be funny. Sometimes he is - the kid is bright and witty and sometimes says things that literally have me laughing my rear area off. And he revels in that. But more often than not he tries to be funny - and unintentionally hurts someone's feelings instead. How do you teach them the difference? Or is it something that is just ingrained in someone? I have no idea. But it breaks my heart to see him hurt.
My message board has just been a bundle of fun all WEEK. I don't think we've ever had this kind of traffic before. It just makes me glad we renewed our Gold (aka - no popups) status in the summer - I don't even want to think of what it would cost now to do it.
There are those who think it was wrong to fire our coach this late in the season. They go on and on about how hard he works - and how hard he tries. You know what? William Hung tried really hard too - but he still couldn't sing. If you ain't got the talent, you ain't got the talent, capesh?
The house is coming along - the hubs has painted all the tan walls with two coats, and this weekend we intend to get the color walls done. Then we wait a few days - paint the paneling and the ceilings. Then we get to start cleaning - woohoo!
E is having a harder time adjusting to Hicksville than I had hoped. While he's not getting bullied like he was in the big city, now - he's just kinda ignored. I don't know what to do - or what to tell him. I remember very well what it was like coming into a new school. It's not easy making friends. Sure - at first everyone is nice to you because you're new - but after awhile - if you don't find something in common with them - then they go back to their lives and forget you're there. And for a kid that really seems to *need* buddies - it's so hard for him.
I wonder if it might have been easier if he had stayed in basketball instead of opting for off-season training after football season was over? Now they're about to start track season, and he's going to be involved in that. Maybe that will help?
Of course, it doesn't help that he was struck by the acne curse - from both sides of the family. Both his dad and myself have such oily skin - and he does too. Poor kid - he started getting breakouts when he was 10. Now he's 13 and it's just a never-ending battle just to get him to wash his face twice a day and treat the bigger zits and scrub hard enough to get the blackheads....
Maybe I worry too much? Auuuuugggghhhhh!!!! WHY don't we get a teenager manual? Seriously - what do *I* know about raising a BOY? I was supposed to have DAUGHTERS!!!! Girls that I could teach how to apply makeup so they didn't look like mini-hos, and insist that they start wearing a well fitted bra early so they never had to worry about boob saggage at an early age. GIRLS!!!! By the time my little brother was this age, I was in the midst of teenage rebellion and totally ignored him - I have no idea what to do for E. How to help him make this transition - how to teach him NOT to piss everyone off. Because my son - he doesn't have that filter that keeps us from saying thoughtless stuff. Nope - he's brutally honest with others because he just doesn't filter.
He also tries to be funny. Sometimes he is - the kid is bright and witty and sometimes says things that literally have me laughing my rear area off. And he revels in that. But more often than not he tries to be funny - and unintentionally hurts someone's feelings instead. How do you teach them the difference? Or is it something that is just ingrained in someone? I have no idea. But it breaks my heart to see him hurt.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Rain rain - go away.....
I am done texturing the house. Yes sirree - I've swirled my last swirl, dabbed my last crow's foot, and will be covered in mud no more.
Well - until it's time to do the utility room. But other than THAT - I'm done. Now we just have to mask off the trim, tape and cover the floors and then Monty can paint.
The tile in the kitchen, utility room and entry way looks wonderful. I love it. The new french door looks pretty cool too.
No progress on the porches, as it's been too wet and muddy after the Not-So-Great Blizzard of 2007. I had hopes for later this week, but according to Intellicast, we have a 30% chance of wet crap tonight, 30% chance for wet crap tomorrow, and 50% chance of wet crap tomorrow night.
Damit.
Maybe next week. Maybe next month. Maybe by my birthday......
In other news, J got a "Notice of Concern" for science. Seems he's acing his tests, but not turning in his daily work. We recently discovered that he is supposed to be bringing home a science folder every day. That he hasn't been bringing home. Apparently he loves doing the hands on stuff - up until they start doing .... paperwork. Like worksheets and other evil handouts.
The horror.
So - last night he brought brought home his science folder. But not his incomplete worksheets. OR his science book. In case you haven't guessed, organization is *not* his strong suit. And I have yet to figure out how to help him get *more* organized. If anyone has any bright ideas, please let me know. Soon. Before he manages to you know, actually FLUNK science - while acing all the tests?
Of course, I did manage to scar him for life this weekend. After spending the day Sunday finishing up the ceilings out at the house, I came home and wanted nothing more than to take a shower and get the sand and mud and gunk off of me before I went to the hockey game. I go into my bedroom.
MY bedroom. I disrobe. Because the door is shut and it's MY bedroom. I hear J and the dog outside my door. I say - because I'm a mom and all psychic like that - "Don't come in here!" And what does he do?
Pfft. Opens the door when I'm standing there wearin nothing but my panties.
I'm telling ya -
Scarred. For. Life.
At the very least, I'm betting he'll never be a boob man.
*sigh*
Well - until it's time to do the utility room. But other than THAT - I'm done. Now we just have to mask off the trim, tape and cover the floors and then Monty can paint.
The tile in the kitchen, utility room and entry way looks wonderful. I love it. The new french door looks pretty cool too.
No progress on the porches, as it's been too wet and muddy after the Not-So-Great Blizzard of 2007. I had hopes for later this week, but according to Intellicast, we have a 30% chance of wet crap tonight, 30% chance for wet crap tomorrow, and 50% chance of wet crap tomorrow night.
Damit.
Maybe next week. Maybe next month. Maybe by my birthday......
In other news, J got a "Notice of Concern" for science. Seems he's acing his tests, but not turning in his daily work. We recently discovered that he is supposed to be bringing home a science folder every day. That he hasn't been bringing home. Apparently he loves doing the hands on stuff - up until they start doing .... paperwork. Like worksheets and other evil handouts.
The horror.
So - last night he brought brought home his science folder. But not his incomplete worksheets. OR his science book. In case you haven't guessed, organization is *not* his strong suit. And I have yet to figure out how to help him get *more* organized. If anyone has any bright ideas, please let me know. Soon. Before he manages to you know, actually FLUNK science - while acing all the tests?
Of course, I did manage to scar him for life this weekend. After spending the day Sunday finishing up the ceilings out at the house, I came home and wanted nothing more than to take a shower and get the sand and mud and gunk off of me before I went to the hockey game. I go into my bedroom.
MY bedroom. I disrobe. Because the door is shut and it's MY bedroom. I hear J and the dog outside my door. I say - because I'm a mom and all psychic like that - "Don't come in here!" And what does he do?
Pfft. Opens the door when I'm standing there wearin nothing but my panties.
I'm telling ya -
Scarred. For. Life.
At the very least, I'm betting he'll never be a boob man.
*sigh*
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