As I was on my knees yesterday scrubbing the toilet – I couldn’t help but think about Currier and Ives… You know those beautiful Christmas Cards we think of when we hear those two words together?
I just wondered who scrubbed the toilets behind the pictures they took. Everyone wants their Christmas to be like the ones they photographed and I just can’t help but wonder how they did it?
No one thinks about scrubbing toilets when they think about Christmas… No one thinks about the long lines or the shipping costs or the ribbon tied in knots around their fingers.
We all have sugar plums dancing in our heads because all we picture are the perfectly wrapped gifts, the basted turkey in the oven and our family sitting around the fireplace just enjoying each other’s company.
We envision this year after year even though each season we swear we will never procrastinate again – we will never wait until the last minute to do our cards, we won’t buy as many gifts and we won’t make a fuss about everyone coming over…
We must suffer from holiday amnesia because most of us fall short of our dreams and struggle to keep our act together days before Christmas.
The truth is – everything leading up to these magical moments is utter chaos. The wrapping marathon, the cleaning frenzy, the grocery scramble…
I have gotten up each day for the passed two weeks with a list and a timeline of how and when I will get it all done. Its like cramming a semester worth of studying into the night before finals.
The bright side is that my house is immaculate (at least my version of immaculate). My toilets shine and my laundry is done – in fact all of the sheets in the house are clean at the same time, my fridge is stocked (it hasn’t seen this much food since we got it), I will be using my pretty stove and our new bar is open for business (thank goodness!)
Everyone is coming to our house this year – in fact everyone is sleeping at our house… Too many than we have beds for – but that is okay… I am excited to have all of my family together, in one place, for a few days.
We will be eating and opening gifts and hopefully, enjoying each others company and maybe it will be so beautiful that Currier and Ives would want to photograph it. At least I know I will!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Tails: In the Christmas Spirit…of miracles
Its getting to be crunch time – only a few days left before Christmas and many people will be rushing around to find that perfect gift – the “WOW” gift that will be remembered long after the decorations are put away… A gift that everyone will love… and sadly, that can mean a spur of the moment trip to the local petstore.
Its easy to walk in and envision a cute little puppy in a stocking or hiding in a box with a beautiful red bow. Heck, that was MY idea of perfect Christmas! BUT, pet stores are NOT the place to get your fuzzy gift this holiday. Pet stores sell dogs who come from puppy mills – places that breed dogs for money – not love and companionship. Places that pile dogs in crates and give them little food, water or shelter – and no affection. I do not care what any pet store tells you – their dogs come from horrible places…and the parents of the puppies in those stores spend their lives in little crates never to see the light of the day or feel a soft human touch.
But, that does not mean you can’t surprise a loved one with a furry friend this season… Just look up a local shelter or animal rescue and I guarantee they will have many pets looking to be home for Christmas. You can also go to www.petfinder.com where you can put in the kind of pet your are looking for, your zip code and it will search their huge database of rescue organizations to find you what you are looking for – it is that easy!
And, yes, there are puppies and yes, there are purebreds… But, truthfully, I bet you fall in love with an older dog that is nothing but a mutt!
When you rescue a pet – I believe you rescue a part of yourself. Giving a dog a second chance – a forever home – something they never had before is reward in itself.
I recently got this link from one of my fellow rescuers and I think it is definitely worth sharing at Christmas… Sometimes people fail to see the potential in the dogs we rescue and if you were ever on the fence about why you should adopt and not shop for your pet – I think this will convince you of the power of love and second chances:
http://video.yahoo.com/watch/8668677
(Just copy and paste the URL - I couldn't get the link to work today! - I promise it is worth your two minutes!)
Please, if you decide you want your stocking filled by the chimney with something floppy eared or with long whiskers – adopt this holiday season and give a pet the gift of a family.
The pictures above are of Thorp - the dog I rescued from an Amish Puppy Mill... Those are his before and afters. Take a look at the video if you want to see more true heartwarming makeovers.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Truths: The Company Christmas Party
Aaahhh… This weekend marks my husband’s company Christmas Party. There aren’t many like this one anymore. Hosted at the Grand Geneva in Lake Geneva, WI – it is a high class event – practically free to everyone – the food is outstanding and the bar stays open all night!
Many of the party goers will arrive tonight – to prime themselves for what will be, for most, a big drinking weekend. It will start for many at the waterpark where employees’ families will gather, watch their kids frolic in the water and play cards – chugging back a few beers – with the intent not too have too many because the party is tomorrow night. (that doesn’t seem to always work)
Because the party is so big – about 500 guests – the company gets an amazing room rate at what really is a 5 star hotel. It would be hard to pass it up – especially since no one wants to drive home.
Tonight will be laid back and fun - in anticipation of Saturday. The regulars will hang together, the kids will scream and all will be good.
Tomorrow morning the majority of the people will rise with only a slight headache and make plans for what to do to pass the time before the party. Some will go into town to shop or eat lunch and some will say, “to Hell with it” and go back to the waterpark - and some will do all three and start drinking – those are the few who usually don’t make it to the party.
But the real fun is tomorrow night.
See, I have been going to these parties for 16 years and Bill has been going to them for 30 – we are definitely seasoned. Between the two of us – we have seen it all. And, okay, been a part of some of the craziness at one point or another.
I have lost my shoes, gotten lost on my way back to the room, “borrowed” decorations from the hotel for our room party… (nothing big – just a few reindeer and Christmas trees)… I am certain I said things to people I should have never said and danced in ways that were inappropriate - and yes, I reluctantly admit – I am sure I have puked and passed out at one or two of them… Maybe at the same time.
And while I don’t think Bill has ever lost his shoes – I am confident that he has done all of the rest.
No, not everyone drinks like we do… I don’t know what those people do – because they don’t stay long at the party and tend to keep their distance from people like us.
But we drink and we watch other people drink and we all do things that we shouldn’t.
One of the interesting parts of the evening is seeing what people wear – and boy do they wear everything. From jeans and sweaters to full length gowns to mini dresses barely covering any skin.
In my 16 years – I have always worn a different dress. I have done the holiday green, the slinky black bare back, the shimmery silver and even threw in a bridesmaid dress – to get good use out of it.
This year – I turned more practical… I tried on 25 dresses – all different styles and while mostly black – some color – and when it came right down to it – I picked the most simple one. Maybe its because I am turning 40 and it just seemed like the right thing to do… It covered the tops of my arms (which I don’t find very flattering) and fit perfect – no alterations this year – and it was $100. Oh, and most importantly – it was a size 6. Honestly, I think that is what it was. Maybe it was mismarked – but I went with it anyway. Most of the others were 8’s and hey, it’s the little things that make us happy, right?
I did try on a beautiful, full length, black and white dress – I did love it but it was $400.00. I have spent close to that before – but it seemed ridiculous to me this year. Again, showing my age – I couldn’t rationalize the cost. There are a lot more things I would rather do with $400 (remodel the kitchen…paint the house…put in a new floor…) and the truth is – I am happily married – while I want to look great for Bill – I certainly don’t have to parade around in a $400 dress to do it.
When I told the nice, young girl which of the dresses I chose, she looked so disappointed. It took me back a bit – but then I figured she is 22 years old and I am soon 40 and I have reached a point in my life – where I will no longer be selecting dresses that are cool… I made my purchase and left… Happy, feeling a bit aged, and thrilled that it was a size 6.
So, anyway, there will be people of all sizes and shapes wearing all sorts of things and that will be fun to watch… but the real fun comes later – after everyone has had a few drinks and the true meaning of a Company Christmas party takes shape… when people get drunk and start doing and saying things they will only regret on Sunday.
There will be the employees who decide this is the best time to tell their boss how they really feel. They will have the courage to ask why they didn’t get a raise – or how soon it will be before they get a promotion. Some will literally shed tears about the unhappiness in their lives and how they love their job so much.
Some will makes passes at fellow employees or employees’ spouses because it seems like the right thing to do… others will dance like no one is watching and a few will pass out at the table.
Truthfully, I love it…
But, Bill and I did make one pact: no one will let the other get stuck talking to someone for more than 15 minutes – unless they give the sign that they are okay. Because when people drink – they talk incessantly… and that prevents me from getting another drink or going to the bathroom – both of which I do a lot of after 6pm.
I suggested that we make a list of people who it would be acceptable to talk to for long periods of time… I had three: Monica, Debbie and Steph – these three are my really good friends – so if I am talking to them it is either important or fun or we are holding each other up – or holding each other’s hair up while we puke… We are those kinds of friends and those kind of friends don’t need talk time limits.
Bill didn’t really have anyone he felt he could talk all night to – so we figured out what sign language we would use and promised each other rescue.
Tomorrow will be a blast… I just hope I am not the one with big regrets on Sunday – or a massive hangover that prevents me from finishing up decorating for the holidays…
‘Tis the season to (drink) and be merry!
Many of the party goers will arrive tonight – to prime themselves for what will be, for most, a big drinking weekend. It will start for many at the waterpark where employees’ families will gather, watch their kids frolic in the water and play cards – chugging back a few beers – with the intent not too have too many because the party is tomorrow night. (that doesn’t seem to always work)
Because the party is so big – about 500 guests – the company gets an amazing room rate at what really is a 5 star hotel. It would be hard to pass it up – especially since no one wants to drive home.
Tonight will be laid back and fun - in anticipation of Saturday. The regulars will hang together, the kids will scream and all will be good.
Tomorrow morning the majority of the people will rise with only a slight headache and make plans for what to do to pass the time before the party. Some will go into town to shop or eat lunch and some will say, “to Hell with it” and go back to the waterpark - and some will do all three and start drinking – those are the few who usually don’t make it to the party.
But the real fun is tomorrow night.
See, I have been going to these parties for 16 years and Bill has been going to them for 30 – we are definitely seasoned. Between the two of us – we have seen it all. And, okay, been a part of some of the craziness at one point or another.
I have lost my shoes, gotten lost on my way back to the room, “borrowed” decorations from the hotel for our room party… (nothing big – just a few reindeer and Christmas trees)… I am certain I said things to people I should have never said and danced in ways that were inappropriate - and yes, I reluctantly admit – I am sure I have puked and passed out at one or two of them… Maybe at the same time.
And while I don’t think Bill has ever lost his shoes – I am confident that he has done all of the rest.
No, not everyone drinks like we do… I don’t know what those people do – because they don’t stay long at the party and tend to keep their distance from people like us.
But we drink and we watch other people drink and we all do things that we shouldn’t.
One of the interesting parts of the evening is seeing what people wear – and boy do they wear everything. From jeans and sweaters to full length gowns to mini dresses barely covering any skin.
In my 16 years – I have always worn a different dress. I have done the holiday green, the slinky black bare back, the shimmery silver and even threw in a bridesmaid dress – to get good use out of it.
This year – I turned more practical… I tried on 25 dresses – all different styles and while mostly black – some color – and when it came right down to it – I picked the most simple one. Maybe its because I am turning 40 and it just seemed like the right thing to do… It covered the tops of my arms (which I don’t find very flattering) and fit perfect – no alterations this year – and it was $100. Oh, and most importantly – it was a size 6. Honestly, I think that is what it was. Maybe it was mismarked – but I went with it anyway. Most of the others were 8’s and hey, it’s the little things that make us happy, right?
I did try on a beautiful, full length, black and white dress – I did love it but it was $400.00. I have spent close to that before – but it seemed ridiculous to me this year. Again, showing my age – I couldn’t rationalize the cost. There are a lot more things I would rather do with $400 (remodel the kitchen…paint the house…put in a new floor…) and the truth is – I am happily married – while I want to look great for Bill – I certainly don’t have to parade around in a $400 dress to do it.
When I told the nice, young girl which of the dresses I chose, she looked so disappointed. It took me back a bit – but then I figured she is 22 years old and I am soon 40 and I have reached a point in my life – where I will no longer be selecting dresses that are cool… I made my purchase and left… Happy, feeling a bit aged, and thrilled that it was a size 6.
So, anyway, there will be people of all sizes and shapes wearing all sorts of things and that will be fun to watch… but the real fun comes later – after everyone has had a few drinks and the true meaning of a Company Christmas party takes shape… when people get drunk and start doing and saying things they will only regret on Sunday.
There will be the employees who decide this is the best time to tell their boss how they really feel. They will have the courage to ask why they didn’t get a raise – or how soon it will be before they get a promotion. Some will literally shed tears about the unhappiness in their lives and how they love their job so much.
Some will makes passes at fellow employees or employees’ spouses because it seems like the right thing to do… others will dance like no one is watching and a few will pass out at the table.
Truthfully, I love it…
But, Bill and I did make one pact: no one will let the other get stuck talking to someone for more than 15 minutes – unless they give the sign that they are okay. Because when people drink – they talk incessantly… and that prevents me from getting another drink or going to the bathroom – both of which I do a lot of after 6pm.
I suggested that we make a list of people who it would be acceptable to talk to for long periods of time… I had three: Monica, Debbie and Steph – these three are my really good friends – so if I am talking to them it is either important or fun or we are holding each other up – or holding each other’s hair up while we puke… We are those kinds of friends and those kind of friends don’t need talk time limits.
Bill didn’t really have anyone he felt he could talk all night to – so we figured out what sign language we would use and promised each other rescue.
Tomorrow will be a blast… I just hope I am not the one with big regrets on Sunday – or a massive hangover that prevents me from finishing up decorating for the holidays…
‘Tis the season to (drink) and be merry!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Truths: There is a hole in the ceiling…Dear Liza, Dear Liza…
So, where do I even start? I swear they don’t even make comedy shows this good anymore.
Let’s see… Remember the furnace that didn’t work last week? Well, that actually turned out quite well. All we needed was to replace the batteries and scrub off the battery acid that had decayed in the thermostat. All of which – I am proud to report I did.
The drain in the master bath did not go so well. And, lets be honest – should it? Has it not become standard operation around here for things to go wrong…really wrong?
There have been days when I struggled with what to blog about – apparently those days are over!
Yeah, the drain which my husband has bandaided for the last two years decided that a bandaid would no longer do the trick. God forbid – it was time to call a plumber!
Of course that didn’t go easy either. I got a referral from Carol and made the call. But, that plumber was going out of town for the week – so he had to give me another name… Luckily, he agreed to come out. He could have come out Saturday morning – but that wouldn’t work for me…because I had to scrub the entire bathroom before he could step foot in it.
It would have been terribly embarrassing for anyone to walk in our bathroom. I don’t know if I said it before – but I hate housecleaning – and I really despise cleaning bathrooms.
So, instead of the plumber coming Saturday – I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the entire bathroom floor to ceiling. If it weren’t for the fact that drain is leaking into the kitchen ceiling – I would have to say that the bathroom never looked better.
But, lets slow down.
We also decided that this was the weekend we would put up Christmas decorations. Its one of those things that once it is done – you sigh and look lovingly at how your house was transformed into a Hallmark card. But – somewhere between then and getting out the boxes is more like a living Hell.
By Sunday – with the boxes half unpacked, we watched football all day – drank beer and then took it upon ourselves to start putting up the outside lights – in the dark. Our hands were shaking as we saw our breath in the crisp air – Crisp, I mean more like freezing. Crisp is what they would say in poetry – this was not poetry.
At one point, Bill said, “I hate doing this with every passion I have… I hate it!”
But, I make him do it anyway – because that is what we do at Christmas… String lights 10 stories up and pray no one falls off the ladder.
Needless to say we got about half way through when we shook our heads in disgust and gave up and returned to the couch for some Sunday night football and a bowl of popcorn.
Yesterday morning, I had the pleasure of waking up to a house that looks like Santa puked in. Tissue paper, bows, lights, scattered around the floor. Boxes still stacked high and snowmen laying on the floor as though they drank too much the night before.
It was a disaster. And in a few hours the plumber would be coming. Good thing I cleaned that bathroom.
The plumber, Steve, weaved amongst the boxes in the foyer – to the kitchen where he assessed the situation. He managed to find his way around the snowmen and up to the bathroom (which really was sparkling clean) and knelt down by the shower drain as if to pray that I made all of this up.
Nope, it was broke… He described what was wrong and I shook my head as though I knew what he meant and then all I heard him say was, “I can do it for around $250.”
Sounded good to me.
Within minutes as I covered up the new stove with a towel – Steve was sawing the drywall kitchen ceiling and I was having a panic attack. I had just cleaned the whole kitchen – every cabinet, every drawer and now there would be more drywall dust.
I went back into the living room where I sank down into the sofa and wanted to scream or cry or both.
Surrounded by mountains of red and green, UPS boxes and drunken snowmen – and now a hole in my kitchen ceiling – all just in time for the holiday season!
Let’s see… Remember the furnace that didn’t work last week? Well, that actually turned out quite well. All we needed was to replace the batteries and scrub off the battery acid that had decayed in the thermostat. All of which – I am proud to report I did.
The drain in the master bath did not go so well. And, lets be honest – should it? Has it not become standard operation around here for things to go wrong…really wrong?
There have been days when I struggled with what to blog about – apparently those days are over!
Yeah, the drain which my husband has bandaided for the last two years decided that a bandaid would no longer do the trick. God forbid – it was time to call a plumber!
Of course that didn’t go easy either. I got a referral from Carol and made the call. But, that plumber was going out of town for the week – so he had to give me another name… Luckily, he agreed to come out. He could have come out Saturday morning – but that wouldn’t work for me…because I had to scrub the entire bathroom before he could step foot in it.
It would have been terribly embarrassing for anyone to walk in our bathroom. I don’t know if I said it before – but I hate housecleaning – and I really despise cleaning bathrooms.
So, instead of the plumber coming Saturday – I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the entire bathroom floor to ceiling. If it weren’t for the fact that drain is leaking into the kitchen ceiling – I would have to say that the bathroom never looked better.
But, lets slow down.
We also decided that this was the weekend we would put up Christmas decorations. Its one of those things that once it is done – you sigh and look lovingly at how your house was transformed into a Hallmark card. But – somewhere between then and getting out the boxes is more like a living Hell.
By Sunday – with the boxes half unpacked, we watched football all day – drank beer and then took it upon ourselves to start putting up the outside lights – in the dark. Our hands were shaking as we saw our breath in the crisp air – Crisp, I mean more like freezing. Crisp is what they would say in poetry – this was not poetry.
At one point, Bill said, “I hate doing this with every passion I have… I hate it!”
But, I make him do it anyway – because that is what we do at Christmas… String lights 10 stories up and pray no one falls off the ladder.
Needless to say we got about half way through when we shook our heads in disgust and gave up and returned to the couch for some Sunday night football and a bowl of popcorn.
Yesterday morning, I had the pleasure of waking up to a house that looks like Santa puked in. Tissue paper, bows, lights, scattered around the floor. Boxes still stacked high and snowmen laying on the floor as though they drank too much the night before.
It was a disaster. And in a few hours the plumber would be coming. Good thing I cleaned that bathroom.
The plumber, Steve, weaved amongst the boxes in the foyer – to the kitchen where he assessed the situation. He managed to find his way around the snowmen and up to the bathroom (which really was sparkling clean) and knelt down by the shower drain as if to pray that I made all of this up.
Nope, it was broke… He described what was wrong and I shook my head as though I knew what he meant and then all I heard him say was, “I can do it for around $250.”
Sounded good to me.
Within minutes as I covered up the new stove with a towel – Steve was sawing the drywall kitchen ceiling and I was having a panic attack. I had just cleaned the whole kitchen – every cabinet, every drawer and now there would be more drywall dust.
I went back into the living room where I sank down into the sofa and wanted to scream or cry or both.
Surrounded by mountains of red and green, UPS boxes and drunken snowmen – and now a hole in my kitchen ceiling – all just in time for the holiday season!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Tails: The reward of rescuing a reject
I was lying in bed this morning – and like everyday for the first ten minutes I am awake – I was snuggling with our dogs – all 4 of them and many times all three of the cats. All seven of them lie on the bed and relish the quiet moment of being spoiled.
Today as Penelope and Thorp lay on my chest and lie their heads up by mine – I couldn’t help but look deep into their eyes and recall how far they have come.
Both puppy mill dogs – rescued at an Amish dog auction. Both survivors of neglect and abuse. They came with scars I thought would never go away.
Thorp came first. I never intended to take home a dog that day…but when I saw him cowering in his cage yet eager for someone to love him… He slowly made his way to the front of the cage as I whispered to him. With utter fear and caution, he inched his way forward and gently licked my hand. I was taken and I took him home for $60.00.
Penelope came second. It was my third auction and I already knew before going that I would rescue a dog. Weeks before the auction I chose her from the auction list. Number 141. Sight unseen, I knew I loved this dog.
Both of them suffered from neglect and lack of vet care and both needed numerous medical procedures. Beyond the physical imperfections came emotional wounds that would take years to heal.
They were scared and unsocial – never had seen grass or stairs or had been held or given affection. They shook at the sight of people and their first reaction was to run. They took shelter in their crates as if it was the safest place in the house – because that was all they had known.
They lacked potty training skills and even today – have a few accidents.
But today as they clung to me – eager for attention and love – it is no mystery that they have succeeded.
The other day a friend asked me to find her the perfect dog. I laughed and said, “There are no perfect dogs.” And then she said, “Well, then a really, really good one.” And I laughed again and said, “The dogs I know aren’t like that – they all have issues that need time to be worked through.” And then I walked away.
It probably seemed cold what I said… But, people always want me to find them some perfect dog – just the right color, just the right size, the right sex and if that weren’t enough – it has to obedient, yet fun, lovable but not needy and of course, potty trained.
Yeah, right.
The dogs I know who need homes certainly will never meet all of those expectations. And, should they have to?
How many people do any of us know who are perfect? We might know people who think they are perfect – but we know different.
Why should a dog be held to any other standards?
I guess what I want people to know is that there is something special about rescuing a reject. Taking in a dog for no other reason but to love them unconditionally. Accepting that they have issues they need to work through and taking the time and being patient as they do.
Thorp has gone on to be a certified therapy dog who is now looking for work and while Penelope doesn’t have any certifications – she is a very well-adjusted, happy dog.
Along the trials and tributes of rescuing them – there is no doubt that I and my family was rescued too. We learned the true meanings of love and acceptance. We learned that it takes more than a bowl of food and a fenced in yard to have a dog – it takes courage and faith and an unconditional kind of love that you never knew you had in you until you were rewarded with the affection of a dog.
Today as Penelope and Thorp lay on my chest and lie their heads up by mine – I couldn’t help but look deep into their eyes and recall how far they have come.
Both puppy mill dogs – rescued at an Amish dog auction. Both survivors of neglect and abuse. They came with scars I thought would never go away.
Thorp came first. I never intended to take home a dog that day…but when I saw him cowering in his cage yet eager for someone to love him… He slowly made his way to the front of the cage as I whispered to him. With utter fear and caution, he inched his way forward and gently licked my hand. I was taken and I took him home for $60.00.
Penelope came second. It was my third auction and I already knew before going that I would rescue a dog. Weeks before the auction I chose her from the auction list. Number 141. Sight unseen, I knew I loved this dog.
Both of them suffered from neglect and lack of vet care and both needed numerous medical procedures. Beyond the physical imperfections came emotional wounds that would take years to heal.
They were scared and unsocial – never had seen grass or stairs or had been held or given affection. They shook at the sight of people and their first reaction was to run. They took shelter in their crates as if it was the safest place in the house – because that was all they had known.
They lacked potty training skills and even today – have a few accidents.
But today as they clung to me – eager for attention and love – it is no mystery that they have succeeded.
The other day a friend asked me to find her the perfect dog. I laughed and said, “There are no perfect dogs.” And then she said, “Well, then a really, really good one.” And I laughed again and said, “The dogs I know aren’t like that – they all have issues that need time to be worked through.” And then I walked away.
It probably seemed cold what I said… But, people always want me to find them some perfect dog – just the right color, just the right size, the right sex and if that weren’t enough – it has to obedient, yet fun, lovable but not needy and of course, potty trained.
Yeah, right.
The dogs I know who need homes certainly will never meet all of those expectations. And, should they have to?
How many people do any of us know who are perfect? We might know people who think they are perfect – but we know different.
Why should a dog be held to any other standards?
I guess what I want people to know is that there is something special about rescuing a reject. Taking in a dog for no other reason but to love them unconditionally. Accepting that they have issues they need to work through and taking the time and being patient as they do.
Thorp has gone on to be a certified therapy dog who is now looking for work and while Penelope doesn’t have any certifications – she is a very well-adjusted, happy dog.
Along the trials and tributes of rescuing them – there is no doubt that I and my family was rescued too. We learned the true meanings of love and acceptance. We learned that it takes more than a bowl of food and a fenced in yard to have a dog – it takes courage and faith and an unconditional kind of love that you never knew you had in you until you were rewarded with the affection of a dog.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Truths: Life is not so simple
So, we have been in FL visiting my parents for Thanksgiving. We got back late Tuesday night because our flight was delayed and sat on a plane where we felt like sardines. But we arrived home and passed out.
Yesterday, was Abby’s birthday. So, I awoke, to a now 12 year old, panicked about what she was going to wear to school.
I also woke up to a broken furnace and a leak in the kitchen ceiling coming from the master bath shower.
I got the emotional adolescent off to school – she could barely contain herself to see her locker which was going to be decorated by her best friends and I could barely open my eyes and face what was going to be my day…
While I was in FL, my grandma ended up in the hospital – for what they thought was congestive heart failure. It turns out that she needed more medicine for her high blood pressure and to limit her salt intake.
Yesterday, I went to pick her up at the hospital where she was staying in the extended care unit. Basically that just means it is all old people who are being kept for observation before they let them go back home or ship them to a nursing facility.
In other words… it is a very depressing place.
If you have ever been to a nursing home – you can understand the smell that goes along with it. I have worked knee deep in animal shelters and still the stench made my stomach turn.
But, more upsetting than that – is the truth – there are all these elderly people – who are basically coming to the end of their lives. Some had strokes, others pneumonia, heart attacks, cancer… and while young people would be able to overcome those things with a hard fight – these people don’t have the fight in them.
My grandma will be 91 in a month. She had never been in the hospital before (except for chilbirth) and has been healthier than a horse. But when I saw her – it was as though she had aged 100 years. The vibrancy and the stamina had disappeared… Instead, she looked grey and weak and old.
I know that 91 is old – but for my whole life my grandma has been young. Always dolled up – boasting jewels and nylons and high heels. She never left the house without her make-up done and her hair curled. And, here she was - practically naked in a bed – without any of her things.
My grandma has always been hip – she knows that Sandra Bullock got divorced – she knows that Tiger Woods cheated – she knows that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston should have never got divorced!
She talks about sex and religion like it’s a cookie recipe and has always known how to shop like there is no tomorrow.
So, it is hard to see her become frail – to see her get old…
And it is really hard to face the fact that when we get old – we become so very alone. Almost all of the people in the hospital yesterday on her floor were alone. They didn’t have visitors. Who knows where their families were… or how long it had been since they saw them last.
They were all relying on the nurses to care for them – to treat them with dignity and respect and to make them comfortable.
One lady who shared my grandma’s room had had a bad stroke – and was literally reliant on a myriad of staff to care for her – she could barely speak – and couldn’t move but a finger.
It’s the kind of thing none of us want to think about: where we will be when we turn 90 – who will be around us and looking out for us when we have lost the ability to do it for ourselves…
After my grandma got dressed and while we were speaking to the discharge nurse – my grandma was trying to zipper her sweater. I watched for some time as she struggled – unsure of when to offer help… and then I finally just did and she was grateful.
And that is when it hit me the hardest – 30 plus years ago – my grandma probably zipped up my sweater – tied my shoes – helped me get in the car… and now it was my turn to do the same for her…I was happy that I could re-pay the act – but sad inside that it has come down to this.
There is no doubt that a lot of **** has gone wrong in my life these last few weeks… and while I have known all along that it was petty stuff – it has taken over my life and left me taking for granted the magnitude of life and death.
My daughter turned 12 yesterday and for the first time in my life I saw my grandma as 90 and I fall almost exactly in between… No longer a struggling adolescent, irresponsible 20 year old or a 30 year old woman trying to defy my age.
I turn 40 next month – and am coming to terms with aging. I am finding out that its not about what boy likes you or what click you belong to, its not about where you went to college or how drunk you got last night and its not about dress size or jean size or profession or what house you live in.
It is about who you have around you – who you love and who you take the time to help and what you do to make a difference in this world.
Its not that any one of us thought life was simple – its just that none of us ever think its going to be THIS hard.
Yesterday, was Abby’s birthday. So, I awoke, to a now 12 year old, panicked about what she was going to wear to school.
I also woke up to a broken furnace and a leak in the kitchen ceiling coming from the master bath shower.
I got the emotional adolescent off to school – she could barely contain herself to see her locker which was going to be decorated by her best friends and I could barely open my eyes and face what was going to be my day…
While I was in FL, my grandma ended up in the hospital – for what they thought was congestive heart failure. It turns out that she needed more medicine for her high blood pressure and to limit her salt intake.
Yesterday, I went to pick her up at the hospital where she was staying in the extended care unit. Basically that just means it is all old people who are being kept for observation before they let them go back home or ship them to a nursing facility.
In other words… it is a very depressing place.
If you have ever been to a nursing home – you can understand the smell that goes along with it. I have worked knee deep in animal shelters and still the stench made my stomach turn.
But, more upsetting than that – is the truth – there are all these elderly people – who are basically coming to the end of their lives. Some had strokes, others pneumonia, heart attacks, cancer… and while young people would be able to overcome those things with a hard fight – these people don’t have the fight in them.
My grandma will be 91 in a month. She had never been in the hospital before (except for chilbirth) and has been healthier than a horse. But when I saw her – it was as though she had aged 100 years. The vibrancy and the stamina had disappeared… Instead, she looked grey and weak and old.
I know that 91 is old – but for my whole life my grandma has been young. Always dolled up – boasting jewels and nylons and high heels. She never left the house without her make-up done and her hair curled. And, here she was - practically naked in a bed – without any of her things.
My grandma has always been hip – she knows that Sandra Bullock got divorced – she knows that Tiger Woods cheated – she knows that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston should have never got divorced!
She talks about sex and religion like it’s a cookie recipe and has always known how to shop like there is no tomorrow.
So, it is hard to see her become frail – to see her get old…
And it is really hard to face the fact that when we get old – we become so very alone. Almost all of the people in the hospital yesterday on her floor were alone. They didn’t have visitors. Who knows where their families were… or how long it had been since they saw them last.
They were all relying on the nurses to care for them – to treat them with dignity and respect and to make them comfortable.
One lady who shared my grandma’s room had had a bad stroke – and was literally reliant on a myriad of staff to care for her – she could barely speak – and couldn’t move but a finger.
It’s the kind of thing none of us want to think about: where we will be when we turn 90 – who will be around us and looking out for us when we have lost the ability to do it for ourselves…
After my grandma got dressed and while we were speaking to the discharge nurse – my grandma was trying to zipper her sweater. I watched for some time as she struggled – unsure of when to offer help… and then I finally just did and she was grateful.
And that is when it hit me the hardest – 30 plus years ago – my grandma probably zipped up my sweater – tied my shoes – helped me get in the car… and now it was my turn to do the same for her…I was happy that I could re-pay the act – but sad inside that it has come down to this.
There is no doubt that a lot of **** has gone wrong in my life these last few weeks… and while I have known all along that it was petty stuff – it has taken over my life and left me taking for granted the magnitude of life and death.
My daughter turned 12 yesterday and for the first time in my life I saw my grandma as 90 and I fall almost exactly in between… No longer a struggling adolescent, irresponsible 20 year old or a 30 year old woman trying to defy my age.
I turn 40 next month – and am coming to terms with aging. I am finding out that its not about what boy likes you or what click you belong to, its not about where you went to college or how drunk you got last night and its not about dress size or jean size or profession or what house you live in.
It is about who you have around you – who you love and who you take the time to help and what you do to make a difference in this world.
Its not that any one of us thought life was simple – its just that none of us ever think its going to be THIS hard.
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