From my Mom...

Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside all people. He said, 'My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.'

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: 'Which wolf wins?'

The old Cherokee simply replied, 'The one you feed.'

The Desert of Maine

So, in a last attempt at summer fun, literally the day before school started, My mom and I took the boys for a walk in the desert.

No deserts in Maine you scoff?

Not true. There is actually one such phenomenon, right here in the pine tree state. My friends, I introduce you first to the lovely landscape that graces most of our area:

Yep, we have a LOT of trees!! Not just pine, but really, there is vegetation almost everywhere. And in the fall they put on their most beautiful colors!

So, it would behoove anyone out there who might be planning a little trip to where "the way life should be" is, to stop by and see just how cool nature can be! In the middle of all this forest, down a somewhat winding road through, oh yes, trees, you come to a building. Go in, pay a couple of bucks, and walk out the other side and into this:

This is no gravel pit, people, which is what I honestly expected. It begs to be touched, it's soft and almost silky! It took less than a minute for Brian to remove his sneakers, and only moments after that the rest of us were carrying our shoes, too!

It was a vast carpet of softness, like nothing I have ever experienced!

It was originally farmland, and in the 1900's they switched their focus to sheep farming. The sheep ate through the topsoil in one little patch, and uncovered this soft sand. The wind, rain, erosion, and natural way of things took it from there. After the sand had taken over so much, over 300 acres at it's largest point, of course the farm was shut down. They turned it into a tourist attraction, even building a little water spring house along the brook. The sand kept blowing, however, and the spring house?

Well, it's buried now! Really, check out this tree!!

Surreal. We had a great tour guide, they drive you around on a little bus kind of thing,

and he did a great job of explaining how it all happened, and the fun details like the man who brought an ultrasound equipment thing and could tell them that the spring house filled evenly with sand, and is being preserved in mint condition!

He also told us that for a while they had a real live camel, but it was problematic, so they have swapped to this:

I think the most amazing part, however, is that the forest is striving to reclaim the land. It's a living, breathing (albeit very slow) science experiment, the trees drop their leaves or needles, those break down, decomposing to a rich compost soil, and then as the nearby weeds and plants shed their seeds, more and more can grow. the desert is down to just about 50 acres, if I remember right!

And you may be wondering about ants... there weren't any to be seen at first. Then as I waited for mom to walk back along the trail we had driven along, I sat in the shade. that's where the bugs are, and frankly I can't blame them!!

The tour guide said he and the other employees take turns throwing bright, shiny, colorful stones onto the sand for kids to scavenge for, so the boys of course went looking for pretty souvenirs!

Not content with the rocks, mom also treated them each to another souvenir, and Michael wanted to make a sand sculpture. They have different colored sand throughout the desert, depending on the mineral content, all of it as soft as can be. For a small fee, you can fill a little bottle, stamped with the desert's logo, in layers. It was very beautiful.

I wish I had taken a picture of just it, because we didn't do well enough getting the air out, and now it's all a uniform color, still pretty but not the same!

So, now you know. My mom is, well, 20+ years older than me, lived here her whole life, and never knew about it. One of Maine's best kept secrets, I guess!!

I love my mom...

Just when you think it's time to never answer another phone or check your email again, Mom to the rescue. These made me laugh out loud!!

Another drive by posting...

So Monday I went and got approved for a loan
borrowed Mom's truck to
meet the man selling the vehicle in Turner
he followed me to Jay
(saving me a trip) to sign over the title
so I could have the check and
give it to him
I returned Mom's truck
got a ride with Nicki to the Town office
registered it
and she drove me to Turner to pick it up
so I could drive it home
before Bill got home and
wanted to go get it instead of
attending the firemen's meeting that
he was getting an award at but didn't know.


That was a run-on sentence, I know. I was going to remove the punctuation and let you all run out of breath before you finished reading it to the people around you, but then I was worried you might get confused because I got confused proofreading it so I decided to put it in list form as long as you know it's still a run-on sentence because it was a run-on kind of day. Get it?


Anyway, it's a Windstar, but it's a different color, and 5 years newer, 107,000 less miles on it, a left side door, and MOST IMPORTANTLY it has a CD player. Those of you out there in the real world all have them, I know. But I didn't. And now I do. YAY!! So I don't need an Ipod anymore, but someday it would still be nice to have one. Just not necessary.


Oh, and here it is:

It lacks storage space, I was pleased it didn't have a console between the two front seats, but I think I will need something in the near future to put my first aid kit, spare diapers, and things like that in. But really, it is VERY nice to have a newer van, I'm thoroughly enjoying it!

OK, I have ten minutes...

My week last week stunk. I mean it stunk BAD. I mean it stunk so bad it was harder to tolerate then then the smell of a skunk, and I HATE even a faint skunk odor. WARNING: If you can't handle the heat, don't read the post!! This week MUST be better, it just has to, or I'm going to run through the streets pulling my hair and screaming at the top of my lungs. Notice I skipped naked, it's December, and nobody wants to see that!


Anyway, Monday it snowed. My kids were home, and Zachary was sick again. This time he had diarrhea, I mean bad. Bill went to get him out of bed in the morning, and it was EVERYWHERE. Bill thought he might have played in it to spread it around, which we have yet to have a child do that. Jones's are not poop people by nature. But later we would learn that his poop was just soooo runny it ran out the sides when he moved. We know this from what happened Tuesday, but why jump ahead.


My driveway was plowed for me, a very, VERY nice thing my lovely b-i-l does for us. Sunday night I tried to send our snow blower home with a friend, but it wouldn't start, making the plowing all the more appreciated.


Monday morning at 630 am I called Brian H. to come get his children, because Z was obviously sick and Savannah was to come home Monday. He came, and then I put Z in the tub.


He was fed very gingerly, which was hard 'cuz he begged for everything all day. Monday night he sat in front of wonderful, yummy corn chowder, and rested his head on his arm and watched us eat, then begged for more food five minutes later. Poor kid, his tummy was all out of sorts.


Tuesday I had to put together the Relief Society Enrichment Christmas party. The plan had been made, and gratefully Lynn had followed through on the specifics I had asked her to do, so the people were all in place. But the "stuff" hadn't been done. I was leaving to run like a chicken with my head cut off when Z was sick. So Linda pitched in and kept him til 2. My car gave out second gear, which means 25 MPH was a struggle, so my mom let me drive her truck for the day. I dropped Z at Linda's, went grocery shopping, took the groceries and platters to Nicki, who prepared the food with her mom and Betsey's help, drove a fake tree to the church, stopped at Hannaford's in Farmington for more rolls, took the rolls to Nicki, went back to Linda's for Zachary, and made it home for Dustin. Then Nicki drove me and my children to the church at 4, we set out the tables, decorated with Christmas decorations, Bill came and got our children, and went home. I got a call at 730 that Bill was going to the ER, because at work he had crushed his finger and the skin had popped. His brother saw it and suggested he should get stitches. If Kevin thinks it's bad, you should definitely get it looked at.

So Linda stepped in and stayed at my house with our boys 'till I got home at 945. Bill was home around midnight, and we were both up with Z puking the rest of the night, essentially.

Bill stayed home Wednesday to sleep. My cough worsened some as I lacked sleep and catered to Z who (understandably) whined and fussed quite pathetically all day. Bill relieved me in the afternoon, but at 400 when Z threw up AGAIN we decided all he had kept down was a Popsicle. No fever, no sneezing, just diarrhea and throwing up. The doctor said to take him to the ER for fluids. I reminded her she promised if he ever had to be admitted she would do it, and she said she remembered, so hurry and take him in now.


Mom picked the boys up at 5, and off we went to the ER. I love my doctor. The ER ordered some tests, and while we were waiting he threw up again and had ANOTHER watery diaper. When they were putting in the IV my Dr walked in. She examined him, talked to the ER doc, and because he was just a bump on a log, so listless, they decided to admit him until he could eat by mouth and keep it down. He was more than willing to drink, in fact we had to restrain him all night by giving him tiny, 1 oz doses at a time, and then telling him he had to wait.

So we stayed. He woke up every hour on the hour except 2 am. But it's ok, I didn't miss 2 am, I had a big coughing fit then. Bill went home to be with the older boys and we figured he'd pick us up after putting them on the bus.

5 am Z was up for the day, and begging for candy. Dumb me didn't grab supper on the way to the ER, so Bill bought me candy at the vending machine. Z spotted it when we got upstairs Wednesday night, and begged for candy throughout the night. When at 6 am he changed to begging for Daddy, and I mean begging, "I wan my dad-dy" with almost every exhale, we called Daddy and said, "Make a new plan." Sadly when Daddy arrived Z asked him for candy, and when Daddy said no he wanted Mommy again. Oi.

He was finally released at noon, having kept in Jell-O and apple juice. That afternoon, when I awoke at home he had vomited. Intuitively my Dr (whom I love, have I told you?) called to see how it was going. She said the only way to avoid another night in the hospital was to follow WHO guidelines for third world countries. We adjusted 1 tsp every two to three minutes to 1 1/2 tsp every two and a half minutes. I kid you not. From 5:00 to 8:00 when Bill put him in bed.

We rushed the boys through mac n cheese so that Z wouldn't beg for it, and my poor Brian said, "Mom, why does everything bad have to happen?" *Sigh*

Zachary slept with us, I woke up hacking at 1 am and couldn't sleep around him well from then on. So Bill missed Friday too, because I was about beside myself with exhaustion, I slept almost the whole day while Z slowly graduated from applesauce to banana to toast.

Friday night at 10:30 pm I got a call from Melissa, who was terrified. We know now Savannah was having a reaction to fever, pain, and a med she's being given, but at the time she was delirious. It was awful.

Saturday looked busy but optimistic until about 8 am. Unfortunately, that was when we got the call from Eddie Castonguay. They had offered to let Brian use a pair of twin steers for his first 4H project. Brian went the day after Thanksgiving to exercise them:

Famous and Amos the Castonguays named them. Eddie called to tell us one had died in the early hours of the morning. The night before he went to his supper fine, and then walked oddly back, so they gave him a shot of penicillin. In the morning he looked awful, so they called the Vet, but he died before he got there. Poor Eddie was so upset, Bill told him not to worry, these things happen.

We decided not to tell Brian. We had a lot to do, and didn't want him upset all day.

Melissa called, and I decided to go with her to a meeting with a client she had been unable to call to cancel. Then I shopped for toys to donate at Dustin and Brian's 4H meeting. I came home and tried pitifully to help the boys carry wood from the shed to the garage. We went to Dustin's basketball game (and they won!). Bill left to go look at a van to buy in Turner, and when he came back he told Brian about his steer. Not long after, we went to bed.

Sunday was church, then 4 H meeting for Bill, Brian, and Michael. Z and I took Dustin to basketball practice, and then went to Cumby's for a drink. I locked the door as I got out, not realizing you had to "play" with the key to unlock it. In his defense, Bill didn't know it either. I went in and called him to come help me (which is when he said "just play with it"), and went back out and "played", desperately trying to restrain myself from giving it a good swift kick. The guy who works there came out and offered to help, and was able to get it after several minutes. Oh, and it was my anniversary.

So I tell people these days my life has turned into not just a bad country song, but an exaggerated version of what people think of bad country songs!!

Stay tuned for a more positive post...

Sick.

Okay, I am pretty sure that the only way to pass illness via a computer is to use the same actual keyboard/mouse as an ill person. If you are inclined to think illness can be transmitted via internet, back up and get out your Purell.

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.