Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
So, in the midst of that, before it hit full strength, we went to see the Portland Pirates Saturday night. Michael earned a ticket as a student achiever, and so we decided to take the whole family. We had a pretty good time, and he came home with a T-shirt, and I got some cute video!!
Not that I can post it, because it stresses blogger out. Going to have to look into that. Any of you blog proficianados out there want to enlighten me, I would sure appreciate it. As would my laundry situation!!
But, in the pictures you can see that we got 24th row, which is the highest row there is. As I complained to Bill, he replied, "You picked 'em!" And I retorted, "I most CERTAINLY did NOT!" The computer picked for me, had I known I might've said NO!! But, it saved us money, I refused to go down the stairs for snacks!!
The Pirates won, 5 to 4, less than one minute into over time. They tied the game with one or two minutes to go, so it was all very exciting.
I left disillusioned, though. We had been promised free fries to everyone if the Pirates scored 5 or more goals. When the game ended, and they did indeed hit 5, they announced to bring your ticket stub to a McDonald's in Portland the next day for your free fries. So much for that!
But we had a blast, and that's what matters!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
But alas, this time I am not looking for sympathy to my post. I feel a need to respond to anonymous, who left a comment this morning regarding my tirade. My first thought was to delete it, it is unkind and judgmental. They have their agency, they need not read my ramblings. One will assume that because I attend the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, that I would not in a moment of weary frustration say a bad word. Well, I do. Weary frustration and frankly extreme anger have both caused me to use them. Of course I have a choice. There are numerous words in my extensive vocabulary. Just ask Bill.
And yet, in belonging to the Church of Jesus Christ I am not allowed to use them or else I apparently face criticism from people unwilling to sign their name. I use a bad word, in a moment of utter crisis, and I do not do my entire church justice.
I serve with the missionaries to teach investigators. I teach my children to pray. I teach them that they have a Father in Heaven who loves them. I teach them they must love each other, even in anger, and they must repent for sins. I repent for my own. I attend the temple, and do work for my ancestors. I attend my meetings, and serve in the Relief Society presidency. I plan activities to bring less active and non-members to church again. I pray and try to strengthen those in our ward who are weak, physically, emotionally, and mentally. I care for children that are not my own, and place their needs above my own childrens' when it is required, and not just for the Hurley's, Kim Smith and her husband's ailing car will attest to that. I go to wood service projects with my husband so my children can participate and learn from priesthood examples, even when we are the only ones who show. I helped an elderly woman who I've never met but is a friend of a friend and been evicted from her home to move. I sacrifice my time, my talents, and my money and strength to build up the kingdom of Heaven wherever possible, I spend my days and nights seeking out ways to serve, love, strengthen and uplift.
I disappointed you, anonymous. I am sorry. I try to control my language, and usually manage. But I am not a perfect person, I even drink WAY too much caffeinated soda. On SUNDAY!! I will allow my son to practice basketball this winter on Sunday, and we attend the fair on Sunday when he is showing for his 4H project.
Judge me as you will, but my only critic I worry about is my God, and so far he tells me I'm doing just fine. I repent of all my sins, even when it takes time, and I pray to love those who offend and assume that they do not understand. I only hope you can do the same, and understand I am not on this Earth to impress anyone but my Heavenly Father.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Zachary has the croup. You see, Bill and I had this crazy idea that we would attend a wedding TOGETHER, without KIDS, and asked my mom to babysit. In rebellion, as usual, Zachary decided to be ill. So Bill and he stayed home. End of story? I wish.
So he was coughing in a very croup way, that awful, dry, barking cough, come Saturday evening. Sunday morning I went to church with the oldest 3. Bill arrived in time for Elder's Quorum with Zachary because he was conducting the meeting. Bill, not Zachary. Anyway, he came to my meeting with me, then Daddy's with his for the last part, I shipped them all home with Daddy after church for a Board Meeting, and when I got home he was asleep. In a miserable, fussy, squirmy kind of way.
He had a temp of 103.5 (don't cringe, that's not uncommon for him or Michael) at bedtime, I checked in with the doctor, conveyed to Bill her stress that we TAKE HIM OUTSIDE even if he DOESN'T WANT TO GO 'cuz the cold air soothes the swelling. Two home remedies for croup (which is viral, no quick fix anti-biotic) steam them, and chill their throat.
Mommy got smart. I sent "brothers" outside with flashlights (in their pajamas and winter coats, they LOVED it) so that Z would want to go out too. Ha ha, take that!
But very little relief for the long term. He did sleep ok, straight til 6 am once he finally laid down around 11. Bill went to work, I took the kids out for donuts and chill zone slushy things to ice Z's throat for the morning, got the kids to school, and called the doc.
For those just joining my life, Z has asthma. So I worry when he has any difficulty breathing, and the kid can't just catch a cold and move on, they always end up requiring medical treatment. And it's not me, or my doc, she regularly tells me that most kids would just have to wait it out, but whenever she decides he should "wait it out" he gets worse fast.
So he takes a steroid inhaler, which we had upped the dosage to try to alleviate the swelling that way. And thought we would wait it out. His lungs sounded great, no ear or throat type infections, just a nasty virus.
Skip ahead to nap time that afternoon. I laid him down, and having been physically/emotionally drained by all the squirmy fussy toddler time over the weekend I went to take a nap. He made a couple of weird noises, and I realized I hadn't turned his humidifier on him, so I went in.
I haven't been so scared since Dustin was three and I was hanging out laundry and looked over to find him standing just at the edge of our road. Fortunately then we lived on a road you could regularly walk down the middle of with no fear of traffic, but with the hay on both sides and the house blocking my view I panicked, and RAN!
His noise was now occurring as he tried to breathe IN, not OUT. His nostrils were flaring each breath, and his abdomen was moving extensively as he breathed, all watch signs for an asthma attack. All of his asthma attacks in the past have taken an hour or more to really reach a point that I was concerned and sought treatment, he isn't really a sudden attack kind of kid. But I think I read somewhere that at any point those sudden attacks can onset, and of course THAT'S what went through my head.
So I grabbed him, and his rescue inhaler. The routine inhaler is preventative steroid, to be absorbed in his system. The rescue inhaler is to go straight to his windpipe and soothe the already swollen tissue. Two puffs, and I grabbed the phone and called the doc. She said to give him a nebulizer and she would call in ten minutes.
I haven't used the neb in almost a year to the day, the inhalers were to replace it largely. So while I was digging it out I laid him on the couch and called my mom. Who do you call when you panic? Bill was in Rangeley, an hour away, and I already tried his cell phone with an update from our appointment, and he was out of the coverage area in the sticks. Mom was five, ok three minutes away. She arrived when the neb was in progress, and tried to help comfort him as he screamed. I have an old picture, arguably the very last one I'd given him prior to yesterday, that brings the experience home.
No, I was not torturing him, I was going to open house night at school alone, and he needed a treatment, and the only time I had was in the car, and he fights so hard it helped to have him strapped down, so I clicked the pic thinking someday I will explain to him how he has tortured his mother!!
Anyway, he screamed through the whole thing, an awful, croupy crying, and so when the doc called back I had no real way to think his breathing had improved. Her office is right near the ER, so Mom and I brought him there, and had her assess how he was doing.
His lungs were still totally clear. It had nothing to do with his asthma. I stopped to breathe, finally.
He apparently had some congestion get caught in his already swollen throat, and so the noise had worsened. The coughing increased to move it. And we both decided it would be good to not wait it out, but give him the oral steroid that is typical treatment for croup that can't be waited out, and left.
Oh, if only I could stop there. If only the story ended.
I love my Doctor. I have followed her from an office to an IMP, Independent Medical Physician program where she works alone, no staff. I have recommended her to dozens of people and sing her praises whenever I can. I. LOVE. My doctor. Understand?
She sent the prescription to Wal-Mart. Just up the road. I waited in the truck with Zachary, trying to contain the germs from the rest of society. After fifteen minutes, Mom came back out and said they finally saw her, and were going to fill it, it would be another 20 minutes, were we ok? I said yes. Famous last words.
In my panic, I never grabbed a car seat. No nasty emails, please, your child have trouble breathing and we can talk. So I tried to contain him and read the three new books we bought at Wal-Mart the FIRST time we were there that day. And the Rolos he picked out but had been too tired to eat. But just three.
After another ten minutes or so, he started to cough. And then I heard it, and tried to move him to the door AND open it. And then he puked. On me, on him, on the truck, and worst of all, on blanky.
I don't handle vomit well. Some people must, CNA's for example, at least some of them. But I sat there, praying Mom would come out of the Wal-Mart. And he begged to go in. And I said, "Ok, if Jamma doesn't come out before we get in, we will go in." We got out, went around for the keys, and found Jamma waiting inside still. I said, "F*** the prescription, find us a 2T outfit and meet me in the Ladies Dressing room please."
I passed an older employee lady as he coughed, and she said, "Best thing for croup is steam you know." She's still alive, thanks to the grace of God, I was too grossed out to stop and beat her. I grabbed clothes I knew I would wear, a long sleeve Tee like I was already wearing and a pair of pants I THOUGHT were like I was wearing but black (turns out, no pockets, BUMMER). Then I went to the dressing room, and the lady there offered to get me a bag. Hallelujah. When she arrived back, I had changed and stripped Zachary, and she said, "You know, **** says the best thing for croup is steam." I said, "I steamed him, I took him out in the frozen air, I took him to a doctor, I am waiting for a prescription, but thank you." Yay for me, she didn't even hear a swear word, I did so good.
If only it ended here. If only...
Mom finally came with a paid for outfit, apologizing that she had waited by the ladies' room, not the ladies' fitting room. I dressed him, and the changing room lady escorted me to an open register to pay, while she went back to get the prescription. It must be done, right?
I check my pocket for a debit card to pay. Right, new pants. I dig in the bag, gingerly, and check the pockets. No card. I cuss (very unlike me), and look down the way to hopefully see Mom walking away from the pharmacy. No Mom. I ask to make a phone call, even prisoners get a phone call. And there's the whole shoplifting thing in my Wal-Mart history now. RECENT history.
So I go to the service desk and phone my cell phone, because it is sitting in my mother's truck and I am hoping she is sitting beside it and in all her non-cell phone experience she will figure out to open it and TALK to me. But no, there was no answer. So I leave the puke clothes, and my mom's truck key it turns out, at the register, and walk to the pharmacy. My mother is STILL waiting for the prescription, and I ask her to go pay for the clothes for me. She comes back with my clothes and a King Size Peanut Butter Cup (which I don't eat, cuz Zachary has puked and I don't want to have share and risk him puking again)(I wonder where that went, hmmm). She checks on the prescription again. We wait. And wait. And watch people look sad for my boy. And other people move away when he coughs. And wait. Finally I ask again, because while the pharmacy is unusually busy it has been over an HOUR. It's ready. We go home. Our appointment was at 2:30, and we left Wal-Mart at 4:00. Ugh. And the truck, of course, stunk. Thank goodness my mom planned her truck for work and got one with an easy to clean interior, although she cleaned it, not me, and she might disagree!!
So we get back to my house, she goes to get my other boys from Nicki, who in all her wisdom has had them do their homework (God bless best friends), and they arrive back in time for Mom to get to work to take the afternoon mail. And I tell my children I have had a very bad day, and do not want them to tempt me to yell at them, so they are to sit quietly and watch the TV or go play in their rooms and GET ALONG. And they do.
All's well that ends well?
I wouldn't know, I haven't slept since Monday morning.
Friday, November 16, 2007
What a fantastic way to stay in touch. Just today, I was minding my own business reading Leah Danala's blog (ok, that might be minding her business...) when I decided to check the comments. She hasn't posted lately, might be too busy with her husband newly in the bishopric and everything, but I noticed TEN comments on one post, and my interest was peaked. Then, a comment was by an Ashleigh. I only know one Ashleigh who spells her name that way, and she's maried to a mutual friend of Jimmy and Bill, Ansen, and low and behold, a little click, and I am looking at pictures from Utah of our dear friend Ansen! Poor boy, couldn't help himself, he fell in love with (apparently a very darling) young lady from out there, and so as to not uproot her from her dear family, he stayed. We miss him terribly! Especially since the last time he was here we didn't even manage to catch a few minutes at church!
Enter blog-dom. Photos of him and his new family at a shooting range (looking only slightly deranged!!), roller-skating, even carving NY Yankee pumpkins. We forgive him of that, having a Yankee fan, Brian, and occasionally a pseudo-Yankee fan, Bill (he's just faking though).
I. LOVE. BLOGS!!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
So, I will share with you my shoplifting experience.
Because that's more fun. (Very Dry Tone)
Now, I am the sort of gal who will look at my bill at a resturant, see that they forgot to add the salad, and point it out to the waitress so I pay the proper amount. My best story is attending a movie in Auburn, and being given a twenty in change instead of a ten I should have received. It was Bill who had paid, and I didn't catch the mistake until we were half way home. So, the following week when I went back to Auburn, I went into the theater to give them their $10. The manager gave me a confused look, and then two free movie passes for my kindness.
It pays to be honest, and frankly, I have no problem pointing out when I've been over charged, too. So, knowing this about me, you ask, "Why on Earth were you shoplifting?"
Obviously, it was not intentional. I would like to share that I have also left Wal-Mart in the past, discovered an item under jackets in the cart that was not paid for, and walked in and a) paid for it, or b) handed it to the greeter 'cuz I was out of time.
So when the door thingy dinged as I walked through it Saturday afternoon, I was more then a little mortified. "Your memory card probably set it off," said Nicki, who had no problem keeping cool. Unfortunately, the memory card bag was the first one put in the cart. I fumed under my breath as I tried to dig it out without crushing bread, eggs, or other crushable items. And then I ripped the bag, and fumed some more. I finally got it out, only to discover the receipt was in a different bag. Not the day I had shoved it in a pocket, unfortunately. So, I dug into another bag, feeling ever more humiliated that I would need to PROVE I had paid for my things.
I found the receipt. The memory card wasn't on it. A whopping $18.88 I hadn't paid for.
I plead innocent. It WAS in the bag, so it passed through the register and was put in the bag. Apparently it just didn't scan. And I was in such a daze, having spent time with Sarah's new baby, and then doing my shopping (for a pair of jeans) and THEN wedding shopping, and THEN hitting grocery for supplies for a Relief Society activity, by the time we hit the register I couldn't care less what the total of my purchases came to.
The guy at the register where I took it back to and paid was sympathetic. But I still feel guilty. I mean I know I'm not guilty of TRYING to get away with something, but I'm in Wal-Mart ALL the time, will I get dirty looks now? This was my second shopping excursion there in the same day, for Pete's sake, they KNOW me, like they do at Cumby's.
I'd say I can never show my face in there again but really, who are we kidding?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
His chief sent out an email today, of firefighters in California, fighting the (apparently) recent forest fires. It's chilling, and it causes me to appreciate the men (and women) who are willing to face such an obstacle as a fire, and put their lives at risk for the protection of their friends and neighbors, even complete strangers in a faraway state. They have to be a little crazy to do it, so they certainly aren't without flaws, but let's all be grateful and tell them we appreciate what they do.
And if you need a moment to feel humbled in order to truly appreciate them, check this out:
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
But who can resist this beautiful face?
I took this picture. Savannah allowed me the honor of accompanying her and her mom to a jewelry store. The owner of the store had it opened an hour before their regular time. They shopped quietly, with the manager and two associates to wait on them. Savannah walked through the store, admiring each piece slowly. She chose several "favorites" that were set aside in a display box for her to examine more closely. She held them, she tried them on, and put them on her mother's hand. She had to find the perfect symbol for her mother to treasure always. It was a gift for her mother to remember her by, a symbol of Savannah's life on this earth that she would keep with her always.
Savannah likes jewelry. She likes sparkles, she likes the pretty colors, and she likes dangly earrings and clinking bracelets. Baubles and trinkets are a passion for her.
They had a wonderful time. I promised not to speak, and only forgot a couple of times. With a quick apology I was allowed to stay, and Savannah even held up a pin for me to get a picture of it. I am eternally grateful for the memory.
So, for my own sanity, I simply have to record my morning here, on the internet, for all to read. Deep breaths people, deep breaths. Try to stay with me...
I woke up at 5:30 to pee, and couldn't go back to sleep. We (I use the term loosely) are planning a wedding in less than two weeks for my friend's sister, and somehow I got stuck on the fact that this means no bridal shower. Or does it? Could I pull off a bridal shower?
I fell asleep after Bill got up at (probably 6), woke up to Dustin saying goodbye (7:15). Couldn't bring myself to get up, so I yelled to Brian and Michael to go get dressed.
A few minutes later, Michael says, "Mom, can I have breakfast at school?"
Brian came in my room minutes later. "Mom, can I have breakfast at school?"
"Well, anyways, I have a field trip today." (Field trips mean bag lunch from home. Or Lunchables, whatever.)
"I didn't sign a permission slip for a field trip."
"Where are you going?"
"I dunno. Something about Veteran's Day."
"Do you need a lunch?" (Keep in mind, my eyes are still closed)
"I don't know, that's what I came to ask you."
I'll pause for the laughter to die down. So I send him for the phone, but Dad doesn't answer.
Nicki calls, and I explain the funny situation (I use the word funny loosely) as I drag out of bed to email the teacher. The teacher is at school by 7, and an avid reliable emailer, bless her heart.
Bill is at the shop when I call there. He signed the slip a couple of weeks ago, but remembers no details of the field trip.
I email the teacher, check my other email, holler about dressing feet. Crash, crying. Apparently Michael decided to put both palms on the woodstove in an attempt to sit on it, often a pleasant experience this time of year as it is just warm from the night before.
Dad built a fire this morning.
Michael stood at the sink with cold water while Mom panicked. I hate dealing with burns, by the time you know how bad they are it's too late to do anything.
The Dr.'s phone was busy. Bill said get out frozen peas. I emailed the Dr., asking her to call me ASAP for an emergency. She saw my email and called me with her cell phone that I forgot she had for emergencies. She said 20 minutes of cold water, wrap in clean white hankies, and bring him in at 9:15. I was to pick up Sheila at 8:30 to do a service for our mutual friend at 9. I call Sheila, ask her to come to my house herself, and we left for the Dr.s, but I dropped her at the other friend's appt first. Then we got a milkshake, a way better ice pack for hands than frozen peas.
The Dr. complimented me on the fact that I did everything and she felt silly staring at his hands and complimenting me. So we decided to talk about Zachary needing a new chamber for his asthma medicine (his face got bigger) and that sent her making phone calls. And with still more appointment time we decided to give Zachary his flu shot. Poor kid.
So then I drive back to Jay so I can take Sheila back to her car 'cuz the service project is done. Her car is at my house, so I go home, and she leaves.
I check my machine, and return a call about a dear friend. I listen for half an hour to details, and make more phone calls to arrange assistance for another mutual friend. And then I ate lunch.
Now I'm off to unload groceries for another person. And I'm tired.