The light at the end of the tunnel

Gotten the bub to sleep tonight before 11. A miracle really. The hub is so psyched to reunite, he even booked us into an expensive cheesy (two-room suite, YES!) hotel in Myrtle Beach for two nights for the ride home. Even though the most beautiful beach on the east coast is only a few miles down the road (my home town ~ Pawley's Island, SC), too much baggage comes with that foray. We've opted instead to give the bub a giant frog from which to slide down its tongue into a swimming pool of awesome. Can you just smell the outstanding cheese from here? It's late and I'm hopped up on cheap white wine and the smell of freedom. I can almost taste the Grand Strand from here. Ripley's Believe It Or Not here we come!

P~fing~S.... somehow I managed to turn 36 and forgot to mention it... How did the 19th slip by like that without even a glass of seltzer water raised?.... The 19th at this point was weeks ago. Here's hoping my 37 is WAY WAY WAY better. (Dude, four years away from 40... really, really old is catching up with me!) My best friend since first grade comes to hell to visit on Saturday. Hopefully, we'll ring in my new year with more than a sippy cup of vino. That, and it looks like my two local sitters are MIA that night, so mom is poised and ready to take her grandma reins. Here's hoping the bub can live through a night of Silly Symphonies and sugar free Popsicles! My sanity depends on it.

This Old House

So, I've secured over a quarter of my mom's retirement funds in order to get her a new roof. The work starts next week, and who knows if it is the right thing to do, but at this point, second guessing would do way more harm than good. Sometime around Wednesday of next week, a group of amazing old home restorers out of Williamsburg will put an old growth cypress shingle roof on this house, just like the one they installed at Mount Vernon (home and death place of one Mr. George Washington) a few weeks ago. The roof is indulgent to say the least (we could have done it for half the price in asphalt shingles), but if mom is ever gonna have a chance of getting the house on the national registry, this particular roof was a must. Needless to say, I am scared but psyched.

The man who runs the company is nothing short of an angel, one who nearly wept on the front steps at the prospect of getting to work on this house. Mom met him a few years back, and had wanted him to do the roof then, but couldn't get the money together. When I took him up into the attic late last week, he nearly popped with excitement. This guy is a self-proclaimed old house nut, and seeing him ogle on the underside of a nearly 200-year-old historic roof was pretty inspiring. I'm so glad that I get to be here to see it all happen. It should be huge fun to watch these guys in action.

Sure beats lying in bed at night watching the roof leak.

Fun, fun, fun

Feeling way way way better than my last post. I really fear that I have been experiencing what can only be true anxiety attacks, and man oh man, they stink. However, yesterday and this morning were pretty stellar. Yesterday morning, Mom went out for the first of many field trips to come. I dropped the bub with the sitter, and instead of coming here to write, mom and I ran some errands and actually had fun. Low key and semi-work related, but still fun. Afterwards, I felt comfortable letting her sit the bub while I took my grandmother to the doctor for a check-up.

My grandmother is really funny and smart and still (even at 94) sharp as a tack... but she is also kind of a sarcastic smartass... who can says things sometimes without realizing she is really hurting someone. Like her doctor for instance. Mom has been warning me that granna hates her doctor. I've spoken with him over the phone a couple of times and thought he wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree myself... but hey.

Mom says he is the only elder-care doc around (not many medical options in nowheresville USA), and that granna doesn't care for him because he is fat. I took offense at this (seeing as 95% of her immediate family is on the chunky side), and thought mom was exaggerating... but sure enough, when I saw him yesterday, I could understand my grandmother's hesitation. He is not fat. He is morbidly obese. Huge. Freak show fat. "Richard Simmons Save Me" fat. The guy is an MD and had his slacks rolled up at the waist like a homeless man. Right off the bat, I felt terrible for the guy, and wanted to hug him or something. He must have a really shitty time of it, and I could immediately empathize with his situation. However, this man is the walking picture of unhealth... like he could drop dead of a heart attack at any moment. I can understand how granna wouldn't have alot of faith in his ability to manage her health care.

That said, she was making snarky comments about him while we were in the waiting room, and I kept telling her to "zip it, lock it, put it in her pocket". We got through the appointment and were about to leave when granna starts in on the guy.

Granna: Who is your doctor? Why hasn't he told you to do something about your weight?
DR: He has and we're working on it, and I lose the weight, but then I gain it back again.
Granna: Well, shame on you. If you don't do something about it soon, I'm not gonna play with you anymore.

I COULD HAVE DIED. I mean, it is bad enough to think that, but to say it out loud, and then to say it to a man in front of a strange woman (me)!?! She might as well have cut off his dick right then and there. Completely emasculating. How embarrassing. Like his life isn't crappy enough without my granna giving him a hard time.

I chimed in...

Me: I'd watch out granna, he is gonna start harping on you to gain weight.

I didn't know what else to do except deflect, deflect, deflect. As soon as we got out of ear shot, I reprimanded her.

Me: Granna, that was so mean. Why did you say that to him?
Granna: 94 years old brings some privileges.
Me: Privileges to make other people feel like crap?

It went on like this for at least an hour. I shamed her so bad that by last night she was wanting to write the guy a letter saying she wasn't being mean, that she was just concerned for his health. I love her, but man, sometimes she is beyond a coot.

20 days to blast off, and now that mom seems to be on the mend for the most part, I am gonna focus on having fun with her for the remainder of the time. Field trips galore... Playgrounds... Antique mall shopping... Animal spotting... (Her doctor and we kids have made her give up the wild animal rehabilitation... we'll see if it sticks, but I can't imagine my mom giving it up forever.) And boy does she need a good time.

It is weird, as my mom and I have had a pretty volatile relationship in the past. Spending this time with her and helping her get well has brought this understanding between us, and I really feel like she appreciates me being here. I know I love her even if I'm not the best at communicating it in the midst of her madness. Even though she infuriates me, she is the reason I am on this earth. Her heart and spirit have influenced every inch of my being. Without her, I would not be. And without all that she has given me, I would be only a shadow of a person. My happiest moments here are snuggling in the bed with the bub between us. I look at their faces leaning into each other and feel so much love. Truly, he is my gift to her for my life.

Saving Time

Was starting to get excited about leaving in two weeks, but now I'm anxious that I'm gonna leave too many things undone. Letting go of my mom's life is going to be much harder than dropping mine to take care of hers. There are so many things she needs help with that it scares the crap out of me to go. Even though I've been here only a month, it feels like years. Like I dropped myself in my adolescent world, and picked up where I left off. Been hanging out a bit at the old boarding school where I went to high school and a million and one ghosts are biting me in the ass.

I've been working to get my mom a new roof, and I'm scared that I'm making the wrong choices. Even rooting through my old stuff and deciding what to take with me is weird. Just stumbled across my old doll baby. Mom only bought us one doll when we were little because she wanted us to have one thing that we cared for and attached to. The Madame Alexander baby now has one leg dangling off, stuffing coming out and fogged over eyes. She is so familiar to me and yet a complete stranger. I feel like I should take her with me, but even she seems to come with more emotional baggage than I'm willing to take on.

The future for my mom and grandmother is still so unknown, and there is a world of trouble still down the road for those two to face. The new mom in me just wants to fix everything for them, but at this point it seems almost impossible.

When all this began and we were questioning whether or now my mom was gonna get better, I mentioned to my grandmother that we might be bringing her to Texas with us. Now that it seems as if my mom is going to recover, my grandmother is still talking about tagging along. I seriously doubt my mom is going to let her go even though she probably should. It is going to be so sad to go, but there is no way I can stay. This isn't my life anymore. And still, the thought of leaving them terrifies me. My mortality is choking me here. Everything tying into money and security. I've never been afraid of dying myself, but more than ever I can feel death looming over all of us.

The bub was watching Fantasia for the first time last night, and he was particularly intrigued by the part that shows the beginning of the world and all the dinosaurs dying. We've had conversations before about what is means to be extinct... but he kept asking questions that led down the road... to that eventually people will become extinct. And needless to say, he didn't like that idea at all. "I don't want all the people to die Momma."

Since coming here, he's taken to telling strangers that he doesn't want to grow up. That he wants to be a kid forever, and I don't blame him one bit. He understands more at this point in life than I ever understood, and his empathy overwhelms me. I am curious as to how the mystery of this experience will imprint on him in the long run.

My life in San Antonio is so joyful... and here, I am trying to stay happy, but I am so frightened for us all.

Farmer Brown

The next few days will be filled with doctors and lawyers so I might not see ya. In the meantime, check out Farmer Brown... moments after chasing my mothers guinea hens and peacocks.

Really, really old

Was feeling pretty damn good at all I accomplished yesterday when I went in to check on my grandmother before putting the bub down for the night. You can say I was beyond surprised to see her 94-year-old butt siting on the ground ~ knees tucked underneath her chin like a school girl nervous about a round of spin-the-bottle.

Shit. I was sure this was gonna be the big one, but something about the innocence in her face made me believe her when she said she thought she wasn't hurt. That she'd merely slipped on the rug while trying to shut the door and had fallen, almost in slow motion, into the squat-position she was currently in. She'd only been there 10 minutes she assured me. Shit, shit.

This is why I'd given her a bell to ring a few days before.... though the damn thing is way far out of reach when stuck on the floor waiting helplessly for help to arrive.

I am never more than a few steps away from her... but she doesn't want to be a bother. I've been keeping all the bedroom doors open just so I can keep tabs on who is coming and going, but with the heat like it is... I've had to keep the bedroom doors shut. That is until I accidentally left one open. Shit, shit, shit.

She could have called out. She could have screamed. She could have whispered my name and I would have heard her.

Once I had her safely lifted and back in the bed, I told her I'd be getting her a cow bell to wear around her neck the next time I was out and about. I felt awful. Why hadn't I checked on her sooner? Why had I left the door open? Thank god she really wasn't hurt (19 hours later, she really does seem fine). Close call, but thankfully no cigar.

Shit.

It makes me think about what the bub said to granna when we first got to the house. "Granna, you're really, really old."

Too true. Too true.

Dog Days

The hub has decided to spend the month-plus while I'm gone going air conditioning free. Partly because he prefers it that way, and partly to see if he can cut our $250 electricity bill from last month. Except for the units in my mother and my grandmother's room, things are quite tepid here as well. I've just looked in on the bub who is taking a rare nap, and his head is soaked in sweat with nothing but a window fan to keep him cool. Hitting over a hundred today, I am once again feeling the notion my mother once had that southern writers back in the day were so great and wild because their brains were fried. Quite literally, southern fried.

There is poetry in this place, but it is difficult to find amid the soiled sheets and sleepless nights. My skin feels angry against all this heat and with each moment, I feel myself getting lost in it all, unable to see the end of the road or even the solution that I'm sure will find itself in the coming days. Too much reality for sure.

That said, here is a picture of my mom's dog Robbie. When mom was five years old, she asked her parents for a dog and they told her that if she kept her room clean for a year she could get one. 365 days later, she held her parents to their word and she bought the first Robbie, a west highland white terrier named as such for Rob Roy the Highland Rouge, her favorite childhood book.

This is Robbie number four I think... maybe five, and my sisters and I bought him for her as a Christmas present some ten years back.... This picture is him in heaven after I gave him a bath and allowed him to snuggle my mom for a few hours. Cute, right? Mom just held him and cried and cried. I feel like the devil for keeping them apart... but then I think about that first week here that was spent cleaning up the little guy's leavings, and then I get OK with myself again.

Note: Those of you who have been hanging around for a while might remember the horrible puppy slaughter of '06.... I have a bad feeling Robbie's lady friend is preggers again... Stay tuned.

New Low

Last night was a new low for me. I swear I am starting to lose my mind. The deal is, there is soooo much noise. Not unlike a rabid dog, I hate noise. That is one of the reasons I have grown to loathe TV in my old age, and one of the reasons that I will tolerate only (aside from movies on DVD) the occasional playoff game and Sunday night Simpsons. The noise drives me insane. The commercials and the empty chatter... ack. I am definitely NOT one of those people who wants to keep the TV on as background noise... but unfortunately, my mom is. ALL DAY AND NIGHT LONG.

Even when I am trying to sleep, I hear it chiming into my room via the baby monitor... so loudly that for the most part I can barely hear the beeping of the IV (which beeps when there is something wrong... like the line is crimped or my mom has rolled over and pulled something out). All day long, while we are eating and talking and back rubbing... the damn thing runs. For the first time since elementary school I am getting my news exclusively from the god-awful Today Show. I HATE THAT SHOW. (I can kind of get NPR in on the bedroom radio, but it is scratchy and distant, and I feel like I'm tuning into some ancient pirate radio channel from another planet.)

My mother has two drawers full of vitamin crap because Katie-fucking-Couric told her that Fish Oil would keep her from getting heart disease and Magnesium would keep her from getting yeast infections and Vitamin B-12 would make her look more like Cindy Crawford. She refuses to eat peas or carrots because a million years ago they had the author of some Zone diet on there telling you that peas and carrots were THE DEVIL. This week it is all about how horrible wheat is... how it can kill you and make you stupid and make you fat and make you date morons. You know, all this great diet and medical advice she's received via the FUCKING TODAY SHOW sure did help her from getting heart disease and diabetes and a raging yeast infection.

Not a single morning since the day my son was conceived have I not gotten the 8 a.m. phone call.... "Honey, make sure the bub doesn't dry drown.... they had someone on the Today Show talking about how kids can drown three hours after getting out of the water."...... "Honey, did you know the bub can learn to sign as young as one month? They had this girl on the Today Show that had been signing since she popped out of the womb."....."Honey, I really think you should just put the bub in a plastic bubble and never let him go anywhere because the Today Show says that shark attacks in swimming pools have gone up .0009% in the last 500 years and that onions can cause liver disease in people under the age of 60 and that if you heat something up in a plastic container for your child, they will get cancer and have tumors and a giant beanstalk will grow out of their forehead...."

Thanks for the sage advice Mom. I'll keep it in mind.

That said, the TV is driving me crazy, and the bub picked yesterday to talk nonstop, all day long. So on top of the TV and my granna calling for help and my mom calling for help and my mom's dogs barking all day long because I won't let them in the house because they pee all over everything... I had to listen to the bub say my name over and over again for about 12 hours straight (and not even a nap to give me a break!). By dinner time I just wanted him to shut up so bad that at one point I just held my hand over his mouth. Bad mommy I know, but come one!

When I finally got the bub down to bed, I headed out to the porch and listened to the birds and the crickets and the frogs, and even though it was peaceful, damn if nature can't make some racket!

I vowed that today is gonna be a better day. The bub is currently swimming at the sitter's house and afterward, I will be taking him to pick blackberries... Life can be good even in the face of all this noise. It has to be.

Peter Pan

Am loving these mornings to myself. Even though I feel guilty leaving those two home (mom and granna) alone... the two hours to clear my head are a must. Today wasn't so bad because the cleaning lady (her name is Nanny and she also happens to work at a nursing home) is there in my absence and is taking over the awful task of giving my grandmother her constipation medicine. Had she not offered, it would have meant me sitting with her on her potty chair for two hours and then giving her a sponge bath. Fun, right? Basically, Nanny saved my ass today. My sweet, dear, hilarious, 94-year-old, coot of a grandmother has gotten to the habit of telling the same joke every time I change her diaper.

"I knew about a second childhood, but nobody warned me about this second infancy."

Then I chuckle like I've heard it for the first time, and hold her hand and tell her I love her.

In addition to the two hour coffee shop escape, I've gotten into the habit of taking the bub for walks at dusk. He likes to chase my mother's peacocks (three cocks, two hens, and three babies)... the dozens of cottontails... and we stay until it just starts to get dark, the moon comes up and the fireflies begin their show. It is actually pretty sweet. Mom's yard is acres and acres of overgrown English garden and nooks and crannies and animals and flowers and 100 foot tall trees and hanging vines and secret hidden places under the arbor.

Half the time, he gets naked or semi-naked at some point and then gets lost in the cornfield. It scares the crap out of me, but I know he enjoys the freedom and danger, so I don't give him a hard time. He is really being a trooper. If he can get some mystery and magic out of this summer I'll be happy. I showed this picture to my mom this morning and she remarked that the bub looks like Peter Pan. What a wonderful thing to say.

Sweet Hell on Earth

So. Here's the low down. My mom basically crashed and burned after her fall in Santa Fe. She has heart disease and diabetes... we don't know what sort of heart disease yet as she is fighting a raging infection in her blood and they can't go in to explore until they get the infection under control... thus the 24-hour penicillin IV for the next two weeks. We brought her home on Monday, and since then I've been playing nurse maid to a house full of people. This is how the next weeks (at least) will pan out for me:

6:00: Wake up, and let my mom's dogs out.
6:05: Check my grandmother, change diaper, get her to potty, give her a coke, ensure, etc.
6:45: Check on my mom, check IV, rub her back etc....
7:00: Go in to get bub... get him to the bathroom, etc.
7:20: Get mom's temperature, record blood sugar, rub her back.
7:45: Head down three flights, make breakfast for mom and the bub
8:15: Serve breakfast, read to bub, etc.
8:35: Give mom morning meds, five pills....
8:55: Feed three birds, turtle, mouse, two dogs, outside cat.
9:15: Sweep mom's room, empty both potty seats.
9:25: Dress Bub
9:30: Double check everyone... load garbage into car
9:45: In car headed to dump
9:49: Unload garbage
10:00: Drop bub with the baby sitter
10:08: Suck down iced coffee, blog, e-mail, relax at coffee shop
12:00: Pick up bub from sitter
12:15: Fix lunch
12:30: Serve lunch for bub, granna and mom
1:00: Do laundry... clean house...
1:30: Play with bub, rub back, give mom shower, wash granna down with wash cloth
2:00: Put bub to sleep
2:20 Watch movie with Mom, rub back, check on granna
3:00: Change out mom's IV bag
3:45: Take bub out to frolic and feed goat and ducks
4:45: Start dinner
5:00: Check Mom's blood sugar, record
5:15: Serve dinner
5:45: Give mom PM meds, two pills
6:15: Get bub in bath
6:45: Watch bub frolic... clean up, get Granna to bed, rub back...
7:30: Hang out, watch TV with mom... dress bub, read books
9:00: Get bub to bed
9:45: Rub mom's back, drink wine
10:00 Call hub, pass out

This is the truncated version, but now I can fully say I know what it is like to be a caregiver, and man, does it blow. Really though, it is like having three babies, so all you moms of multiples out there, god bless you.

The upsides? I have a teenage girl watching the bub during the day when I need a break, and she is awesome. She lives at Rosegill Plantation which is the most beautiful and famous one around and her house is surrounded by corn fields on three sides and the river on one. A girl and her sister watch him, and their hot, single mom (who just happens to be a pediatric nurse, score!) is home all day and they have a pool and a cute little jack russell... so the boy gets to swim and hang out with three beautiful, doting women and look at cotton tails... They've watched him full days, but now that mom is home, I'm only gonna send him a few hours a day just so I can get a moment to myself. These three women are saving my life.

The woman who comes in a few days a week to help me clean and change the sheets, and I've sneaked a cig or two with her on the porch. (I know, I know... it's been years since I smoked, but give me a break will ya?) She has awesome cornrows and a world of trouble herself in the form of a deadbeat dad ex and a whopping case of depression.

This area, albeit pretty country, is gorgeous... just so lush and green and really the landscape of all my childhood memories, so it is good to be back on the East Coast for a while.

This coffee shop! In cute little historic Urbanna, Virginia... five miles from my mom's house there is an oasis. They know how to make a great ice coffee, a kickin' Reuben panini (my fave!), and they have free wi-fi!

The small town drugstore with the soda fountain and the amazing pharmacist who knows mom and knows she has no insurance so I've watched her personally scratch out medicine costs that read $133 and mark them down to $28. She is an angel.

The home health care woman who came in two days in a row to train me on giving my mom insulin shots, and changing her IV out, and testing her Glucose. I've been referring to her as Glenda the Good Witch.

The best part, though? The bub getting to hang with his grand mother and great grandmother. Even though it sucks to be here and the circumstances blow, watching him run back and forth between their rooms entertaining them is priceless. They are all getting to know each other, and that in itself is pretty sweet.

More later now that I have a respite.

Oh Daddy

In order to have quiet time in this house, you have to get up at 5:30 a.m. Right now, I am on the third story of my mom's house over looking just miles and miles of trees and corn fields. It is in these moments that I remember how special this place is. (My banner is a picture of the bub in the cornfield that a few seasons ago was a wheat field.)

Last night, my sister and I dropped the bub at a friend's house and went out for a much needed $100 birthday dinner. Her birthday was Thursday, and we celebrated it with cheap carrot cake and a very rough day at the rehab facility. Mine is on the 19th, and I plan on spending that somewhere between a rock (my grandmother) and a hard place (my mom) ~ changing diapers and IV drips and wishing I was home.

Mom comes home on Monday, and it will be up to me to change out her IV antibiotics for the next 14 days, give her insulin shots, make her diabetic-friendly meals, and give her endless back rubs which seem to be the only thing that makes her feel better. (Note however ~ my mom used to bribe my sisters and me to rub her back ~ offering us brownies and other presents... but then never paying up after the fact... giving these back rubs was torture... therefore, as an adult, I still hate giving them... making this situation extra fun for me.)

My grandmother and the bub are another handful... but you know what, I didn't want this post to be a tale of lament. All this is mess is doing what you gotta do when you love someone, no matter how painful or awful it will be.

I really just wanted to take this opportunity to thank my husband ~ for allowing me to steal his child away for a month plus..... to disrupt his world and empty his house and life of constant love and companionship once again..... and for supporting me emotionally in this unfortunate endeavor. I will make it up to you, my love. And I promise I will keep the bub safe and happy.

That said, a trip to the emergency care clinic yesterday for a busted lip on the bub was exactly the news the hub was hoping to hear from afar. Man oh man, did the bub scream when it came time for the doctor to use the skin glue on his face. It was as if the devil himself had come over from the crossroads and possessed his wee soul. Hyperventilating, weeping, crying "No mommy, no!" I'll tell you, those nurses saw more of my own tears then they ever needed to see. I made it up to him with a chocolate milkshake and a trip to the river where he got to see a real live horseshoe crab. As for me, three pints of Yuengling and a scallop dinner did the trick. And what will cure the hub's temporary heartache? Perhaps a good long back rub when I get home with work out all his woes. Or not.

Summer

Note to self: Stay as healthy as possible because old folks homes suck.

Am hanging with my mom in the "rehabilitation" center where she'll be until Monday... at which point she'll be transferred home and I'll be the primary caretaker of my 94-year-old grandmother, the bub and my mom who will be on a 24-hour antibiotic IV that I will have to change out every 4 hours. On top of cooking for both of them, changing diapers, helping to shower them both, administering no less than ten medications and insulin to both combined and going slowly insane. Sweet right?

Anyway, almost as soon as I walked into the rehab facility, I knew Mom wasn't going to stay there the two weeks as planned. It is really just an old folks home, and and even worse, it is one of those awful old folks homes where you stick people to die. The kind you have nightmares about.

There is the beautiful old woman who babbles numbers, but if you make eye contact she starts whispering loudly..."Psssss... You... girl... come here. I have to get home. I'm supposed to be home... Help me..." There is the woman who looks frozen in time, who on several occasions I've seen nurses holding a mirror up to her mouth to see if she's still breathing. And the young man who has lord knows what and holds on to a woman 40 years his senior as if they've been lovers since childhood.

I wish I had a million hours to write, because this shit is something else. But alas. My day starts at 5 am... and ends around 1 am.... with NO time to myself except moments stolen illegally parked in the hospital to steal WI-FI because the ghetto rehab place is too cheap for wireless.

Man oh man.

Happy Fourth

Hey gang... just sitting here at the foot of my mom's hospital bed and wanted to give you an update. Things are getting better, but it's a long row to hoe. The hub/bub are on their way cross country now and should be rolling in sometime tomorrow. Looks like the bub and I are gonna be Virginians for a while. We'll be camping down here for a month or a little more, and YES, the hub has my newly fixed camera in tow so you'll be getting lots of eye candy from the East Coast come tomorrow. My internet access is limited, so if you don't hear from me, it's not because I don't love you. It is because I am trapped in bumfucksville for the longish, short haul.