Dad’s having a routine outpatient surgery thing this morning in Macon. It is routine. I still worry, though. I hear too many horror stories from my sister, The Nurse. I will be glad when we are all at the lake this weekend, fishing and painting together. As much as my Dad and I disagree, and get on each others nerves (and those of everyone around us), he is still my favorite fishing buddy, and I can’t imagine my life without him.
Posts Tagged ‘love’
Going to Macon
Tuesday, May 19th, 2009True Love
Wednesday, May 6th, 2009I woke up to Todd nudging me and then resting his hand on my stomach. I hate that.
Me: “Is it my turn to get up?”
Todd: “Yes.”
Me: “Ten more minutes.”
Todd: “I’m going to stick my finger in your belly button. . .”
Me: “I’m going to punch you in the fucking face. And then the nuts.”
Todd: “I love you, too.”
Eight Years
Tuesday, April 28th, 2009I can’t believe we’ve been married for eight years. The time has just flown by. It really goes warp speed once you have children, too. For our anniversary, we went to visit our friend Tom in Chicago. He lives with his girlfriend Tara (she is awesome!) and it was great to hang out with them. It was also great to spend a couple of days with no kids, just me and Todd on an adventure together.
Todd is my favorite person to travel with – he is easygoing, calm, and organized. He usually plans ahead, figuring out the main sites he wants to see, but is always up for detours and unscheduled adventures. He also always makes sure that I find my way to where i need to go. He gets the tipsy Dogwood Girl in the cab, and he holds the fearful Dogwood Girl’s hand when the plane does funky stuff.
He is my best friend. He is my partner in life. He is a wonderful Dad, patient and fun, and he also kicks ass at Jeopardy and trivia.
Did I mention that he is awesome? Did I mention that I would love him even if he didn’t take me on cool trips and buy me the digital camera that I have wanted for years now?
Because I would. I would totally still love him.
But the return on this weekend and my awesome gift will be pretty damn good. That’s all I’m sayin’ about that.
Took lots of photos of Chicago trip and I’ll post about it later.
Todd. I love you.
Happy 39th!
Saturday, June 21st, 2008
Happy anniversary to my parents, who have been married 39 years. The longer I am married, the more I realize how impressive my parents’ marriage is and how much they have put into their life together.
I love you both very much!
It is Nice
Monday, April 21st, 2008When those you love very much, whom you would do just about anything for, and whom you know would do the same for you, affirm their love for you.
There is something so powerful about old friendships, the ones where you have ridiculously funny memories of growing up together, of fucking up together, of grieving together and for each other, and of rejoicing in each other’s meaningful life moments.
I love you too, Mealby. But then, I was forced to: Take a look at my choices.
P.s. I love you too, Jason B., even though you will probably call me tomorrow with the cackle laugh and make fun of me for my sappiness.
Belated Birthday Post
Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008I often feel like reflecting on another year when my birthday comes around, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like it yesterday. Once again, I feel like my birthday is just a number, and I am stuck at 27 or so, and I know that the number of years mean nothing. I love my 30’s, though – I feel like I know more about the things I want out of life, and I know who the important people are, and I know to let the other things and people slide, because life is way too short to waste time on the meaningless, and on regrets. My birthday, though, has always been tinged with regret, because I hurt people around me on my birthday one year, and every year, I wake up and regret that I caused pain, and the first thing I think of is how this birthday will inevitably be better than that birthday. And every year, it never fails, no matter how lackluster it is, it is better than the terrible birthday. Life has a funny way of giving you things to remember as horrible, and in that way gives you the gift of context; You can always compare an event to the event by which all other events are measured and be reminded that things are generally good, and you should appreciate it for what it is. See people? I can be a glass half full person. i can!
This year was no different. Todd took me out on Friday for my “real” birthday celebration, which meant that we were able to eat dinner together in a decent restaurant without dealing with whiners and spills, and cutting things up, and making sure things weren’t too hot, and all the little things that a meal with children require of parents. We stayed out late, and we had hangovers on Saturday, and they were worth it, because we had fun together. Then yesterday, Todd got up with the kids, which meant i was able to sleep about 10 minutes later than usual. It sucks being an adult on your birthday – you still have to battle yucky weather, and get kids to school, and pick kids up. You still have to smear peanut butter on bread and pour milks. Nobody makes you a handmade crown. But you do get to go out that night and your family has you blow out candles (Yes, Rollie, they do have that many candles at the grocery store,) and you have cupcakes (chocolate with hot pink icing!). You get phone calls from people who don’t call you regularly, and nice emails, and cards, and people remind you that they love you. And you feel loved. And you win at trivia, and that is always a great birthday gift.
Thanks to all the wonderful people who made me feel very special yesterday, in a ton of different ways. You know who you are, and I love you all.
Freakishly Close
Thursday, October 11th, 2007
I met my sister at the dog park yesterday morning. We spent over an hour together. Afterwards, having just said goodbye to each other in the parking lot at Piedmont Park, I picked up the cel phone to call my sister as I pulled out of the lot. I had forgotten to mention something very important to her.
Her: Hey. What is it?
Me: I haven’t talked to you in a while, and I missed you.
Her: We should talk more often.
Me: I know. So, did you see that mutant mutt dog? I mean, I am a dog lover, but that was the ugliest thing I have ever seen.
Her: I thought he was cute! Like a Bassett raped by a pit bull.
Me: Seriously, that dog looked ridiculous.
Her: He can’t help it that he looks that way.
Me: I know. I would take his ugly brindle ass home anyway.
Her: Me too.
Me: Okay, bye.
Her: Bye. Oh, wait! Are you coming over?
Me: Yeah, I’ll meet you at your house.
So, it has been mentioned before that we are very close to one another. My friend Harris might have used the words, “Freakishly close” to describe our relationship. I don’t give a shit. Everything in my life is better when shared with my sister. Even unfortunate mutt rape victims. I couldn’t not call her and talk about it. Does an ugly mutt at the dog park exist if I don’t call my sister? Yes. But it’s way more fun if i call her about it.
Strange
Sunday, August 5th, 2007It is very strange to watch the bonding experience between a 22-month old little girl, and a 91-year-old man. They don’t have a lot to talk about, and she can’t enunciate well, and he couldn’t even hear it if she did. They both like food. And they hug a lot, which is not at all how I remember my grandfather being with me and my sister when we were little. He keeps on telling her that she is such a sweet little girl that we should’ve named her “Love.” Who is this man?
This was the man that when you told him, “Goodbye! I love you, Pop!” would grunt in reply. I think he is either dying or possessed. The funny thing about him, though, is that I honestly think he thinks he is going to live forever. He told her tonight that it was good she liked books, because maybe she would get a scholarship, and that he would help her out with tuition. That’s like 16 years away. He would be 107.
The sad part is that i could sooner see him living till 107 than actually paying for all of someone’s college. He is that stingy. He cuts one paper towel into four pieces, then uses one piece for days on end. I put tin foil over his dinner and then threw it in the trash can; He pulled it back out and then washed it and folded it up for later.
You can’t make this shit up. Someday I’ll have to write about the mountain of fast food jelly packets he was hording. Good stuff.
I’m Back (And a Little Rant)
Wednesday, April 18th, 2007Well, Saturday we were at the Dogwood Festival when I received a call that my Mom had been taken to the ER. When I talked to her on Friday, she was fine, and thought that she might be coming down with a cold. She mentioned having a sore throat. During Friday night, she had a 104 temperature, and Saturday morning, she got up and couldn’t swallow anything. By 10 a.m., she had called 911. Her throat was closing up and she couldn’t breathe. Dad had gone to the Lake on Friday – he received a call from one of the neighbors saying only that an ambulance had been at the house, and no other information. He raced to the hospital and found her in the ER.
Seems she had a severe case of Epiglottitis, which means that her epiglottis was infected. This is evidently extremely rare in adults (the diagnosing doctor called other doctors from around the hospital to come look at the case) and is fatal if not treated quickly; thank God she had the presence of mind to call 911 before it was too late. The epiglottis was swelling up and obstructing her airway. (Interestingly, George Washington reportedly died of Epiglottitis.)Once they realized this was an infection, they took cultures to figure out what was causing the infection.
While getting her breathing under control with epinephrine breathing treatments that made her act annoyingly like a speed freak for an hour or so after every one of them, and keeping her on oxygen, they moved her to ICU. By this time, Lisa and I had rushed the hour and a half drive from Atlanta to get to the hospital. We found her scared, out of it, and struggling to breathe. Right after putting her in the room, they also brought in a trach tray, which is the big package they keep around in case they need to do a tracheotomy. Based on a few years of watching ER, I know that if someone’s airway is obstructed, they will intubate them (stick a tube down their throat), but evidently if your epiglottis is swollen up, it is more likely they won’t be able to get a tube down, and so they will have to cut a hole in your throat to your trachea.
Suffice to say that all of this tracheotomy stuff and doctor’s talking about “life-threatening” and “potentially fatal” stuff pretty much freaked our shit. She was not supposed to swallow, cough, or talk, for fear of her airway closing up.
Luckily, Lisa is a nurse, so we had just enough knowledge to scare the shit out of ourselves. At first, we were going to take shifts staying at the hospital, but when they pulled out the trach tray, Lisa, who was on first shift, thought she would feel better if i stayed too. We spent Saturday night sleeping upright in ICU waiting room chairs. Lisa had trouble sleeping. I was exhausted and managed to crash out, contorted and drooling, for over four hours straight.
Lisa and I took shifts sitting bedside in the ICU, watching the fucking vitals monitor: four numbers and the “normal” values for those numbers are seared upon my brain forevermore. When visiting hours were over (inevitably this was the time at which the doctors bothered to check in on their patients, thus making it difficult to get information out of the doctors) Lisa and I would take turns going home to sleep or shower.
It was Monday before I felt comfortable that she was going to be okay. Monday during the day, they brought in an infectious diseases doctor to see Mom. He identified her infection as being caused by a gram negative bacteria. You can read all about it through that link, but the long and short of it is that those are the “big baddies” of the bacteria world. Things like E. Coli and salmonella. The culture had not grown enough to know what exactly the bacteria was, though, so they were pulling out the big guns and giving her like five antibiotics. (All of this was through IV; Mom couldn’t swallow even a sip of water until Monday.) The doctors seemed really interested in her, and very serious, and maybe even a little grave when they spoke to us. We were really frightened for her, and felt like the doctors weren’t telling us something. Most of the time, we tried not to let on to Mom how scared we were for her. The rest of the time, we spend trying to figure out how to get her to shut up; Anyone who has ever met my Mom knows she will try to make friends with a lamp post. It was nearly impossible to keep her from talking to every nurse and tech who came into her room, even though the doctor told us multiple times that speaking was endangering her breathing.
I should mention that Mom has Rheumatoid Arthritis, which basically sucks ass, because it means that her immune system is compromised and she is susceptible to all sorts of nasty virus and bacteria.
On Monday night, the results finally came back, though, and she has Haemophilius Influenzae. This sounds like a flu virus, but it is actually a bacteria. The kind of funny thing is that they initially were worried that she had Diphtheria, which there has evidently been a bit of a resurgence of in the United States. Kids are vaccinated for both HIB and Diphteria (the famous “DPT” of Raising Arizona fame). Or at least kids should be, and that is where my rant comes in.
FUCK ALL OF YOU WHO ARE SO SELFISH THAT YOU DON’T VACCINATE YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE CHILDREN.
Mom could have gotten the HIB anywhere. It is all over us. Diphtheria, though? It might be coming back. just like any number of other infectious diseases that could be prevented through vaccination.
Next time you decline a vaccination for your child, think for a second what that means to newborns, to those with compromised immune systems, and to the elderly.
Better yet, check out what a nice case of Diphtheria can do for your little precious here.
Mother fuckers.
Oh, Mom, when you get out of the hospital and read this? I love you. Glad you called 911. Sorry I cuss so much, but it is pure love cussin’.
The Times Have Changed
Wednesday, March 21st, 2007Last night, I took a night away from the kids and had a burger at the EARL (best burgers in America!) and then hit the coffee shop to write for a little while. Over dinner on the sidewalk, I read Todd’s Men’s Journal. There was an article about the 50 Best Places to Live. Two Atlanta towns were on the list. Dahlonegha, which I could see, and Gainesville. Huh? Gainesville was on the “bedroom community” list. Basically, i think they were saying that you could live there and commute to Atlanta every day. Obviously, these jerks don’t actually drive in Atlanta, or they would know that a 50-mile commute in Atlanta can take three hours to complete on a bad day.
Also? It’s Gainesville.
Wow, got a little off subject there. What I was really thinking, as I ate my Blue Bacon Burger and gazed at The East Side Lounge across the street, was this: Things have really changed for me in less than ten years.
East Side Lounge used to be The Fountainhead. I remember a February night back in 1999, when I left the bar with friends Honey and Andy, and my sister. We were pretty loaded, and as I got in the car with them (Lisa was not so loaded, and she was driving,) we discussed the people we had met that night. Thoughts on Robin’s friend, Todd? I believe I said, “He seemed really nice.” Then we proceeded to discuss a couple other people Honey and I hadn’t seen since college and they looked exactly the same! And then there was that weirdness of seeing two guys that I hooked up with in college. One I made out with on the roof of my boyfriend-at-the-time’s house while said boyfriend was in the house below. Everyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I am way classier now, but word to the wise, children – you cheat on your boyfriend, even if it’s the only time you have ever cheated, and even if it was only a stupid drunk kiss, you might just end up running into someone you might not want to hanging out with the man you will marry; Karma is a total bitch like that. The other i made out with at a party, then ended up living with platonically later and who turned out to be a total psychopath.
I mean, pretty memorable night! You run into two former hookups and the man you will spend the rest of your life with, all in one night, in one little bar, in one little corner of Atlanta and the world. I was giddy that night, leaving the bar, and I like to think that while part of it was the alcohol, part of it was some deep part of me that felt and knew on an almost cellular level that I had met The One.
I don’t know, but things sure have changed since February 1999. Now I am just sitting here blogging in our second house in the same neighborhood, and trying to block out the sound of my kids beating the shit out of each other with Hot Wheels and lunchboxes.
Not that I’m complaining. I kind of like my life better now than i did back then. But I wouldn’t mind a drunken evening at The Fountainhead with my husband again, and the following day sans kids to recover. March 31st anyone? March 31st is the night.
Oh, and everybody wish Dogwood Girl’s Daddy a big old HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you, Dad.