I am tired.  The kind of tired you get from working hard, stretching your brain, using your body, pushing your limits.  I also have a whole new appreciation for rehab therapists.  Today was the first day in my new Rehab placement.  I'm only there for the week-end, so I don't have time to get attached to the patients, or get aggravated by the politics that rage through all large organizations, or even get to know my co-workers.  I'm just treating patients, then walking away.

We spent the first part of the morning in "hurry-up and wait" mode.  There's breakfast, and morning meds, and dressing, and transporting down to the therapy floor.  So my 8:00am start didn't really get off the ground until after 9:00.  Then BOOM.  There were patients everywhere.  Mostly waiting patiently, some wanting to go back to their rooms.  Patients chit-chatting.  Patients wheeling about.  My head was spinning with the "who?  what? where?"  of that many new (to me) patients with problems I hadn't treated in years.  When things finally cleared up around 12:00 (in time for lunch) I realized that I had completely missed one person on my case load.  Lucky me, this person was on a feeding tube, so I didn't have to wait until after lunch.  But, wow - busy, busy.

I remember having multiple patients at one time in a busy therapy center.  Mental multi-tasking.  I was actually quite good at it.  But that seems eons ago.  I am so used to my carefully paced, one-on-one work load that I am in awe of the therapists I worked with today.  And feeling really, really old.

On a really happy note - the little girl is better.  When I talked to her today, she was less itchy, no new spots, and going bowling with her brothers. 

A Pox on thee -

"I'm getting chicken pox for Christmas
"Mommy and Daddy are glad
"I'm getting chicken pox for Christmas
"I have been nothing but sad.


The girl has the pox.  I wasn't sure when I sent her to her dad.  Low grade fever and one unfamiliar looking spot, possibly and ant-bite, maybe a flea (she slept with the cat).  I was on my way to picking her up yesterday morning to take her to gym, when her dad called.  Oh - yeah, it's chicken pox for sure.


She told me she has 59 spots.  She is counting because it is really, really boring.  It also keeps her mind off scratching.  Last night she was over 85, does not care about counting, and is not sure if wearing socks on her hands would help.

This is actually perfect timing.  She is not missing any school.  Her dad is not working, and it is his week with her, so I am not interrupting my suddenly busy work schedule.  She will be better in a week, and life will go on.  I still miss her.  I also feel totally responsible, I'm the one that allowed (requested?) the infected child to come to our house and hug and kiss on my daughter.  It is a little old fashioned, countrified, and archaic to intentionally expose a child to a disease that she could be vaccinated for, but, the alternative is to risk her exposure when she is older, and I have been through that hell.  


I got the pox at 18, on the way to a family reunion with my dad.  Just the two of us, I think my mom wanted us to "connect."  

 I found one oddly ithcy spot on the way up to Everett (Washington), by the time we got there, I was practically comatose with a raging fever.  3 days of oblivion.  Itchy.  Fevered. Delirious.  I did not know any of my cousins well, and they saw this as an opportunity.  I have very dim memories of lying on a couch with a TV on and MANY small children swarming around me.  I think, perhaps I am exaggerating, but I remember being locked in a room with no  escape, so that the children would get exposed while young and hearty.


Anyway - I was not exactly expecting for the girl to actually get sick.  The exposure was brief, and toward the end of the infected child's out break, and I really hate it when the girl is ill, and not with me.   So - here I am feeling guilty right before Christmas.  Hey - maybe I am more normal than I realize.


 

Long Week

I have been spending way too much time on Facebook.  Fun, though.  Staying in touch with family has been wonderful: cousins that I see rarely; my oldest cousin's kids (the little cousins, as they are referred to in the family circle); my uncle who has been a surrogate grandpa to my daughter for a very long time.


Today is the girl's big gym party.  She is beyond excited; the first time she gets to do the sleep over, and annual event only open to those competeing level 5 and higher.  In addition, after a long talk with her coach last night, they have decided to move her up to 6 trainers with the big girls.  She will still compete 5, and her workouts will not be structured significantly different, but for her it is symbolic that she is actually moving up.  I HATE the new schedule.  Over protective Mom.  I don't want my little girl practicing until almost her bed-time 4 nights a week.  What about home work?  What about Mommy time?  What about dinner?  We will work it all out, I already think that she does not sleep enough, so I will be watching her carefully.


I have been working!!!!! Yay - for the last several months, I have had only one patient from the home health company that I work for.  It has been enough of a concern, that I went through massive training to get on board with another.  The new company has not had any work for me, either.  Wednesday I got 4 calls to pick up patients in my area.  WHOOO HOOO.  Except that it is almost Christmas, I have gotten very lazy, and I was really trying to spend more time with the girl before she went to her dad's.  Seriously - suck it up.  You are not allowed to complain about not working, then complain when there is work to be done.  So, I was a mad women yesterday - worked my tail off.  It felt really good.  And - I made more money than I spent yesterday, which I realize is typically the goal, and nice to do once in a while.  And, to get all of these people in over the Holiday, I will actually be working some on the weekends, which is a very good thing.  The Neighbors are gone, the husband and boy have soccer, and the girl is at her dads.  It is either work (good), or compulsive crafting, or compulsive cooking, or compulsive pretending to clean.  Work is good.


I also got all of the coach's bracelets done this week, and one for the girls in the Gym gift exchange, and started 3 more.  Hmmm - maybe this is why I am not baking cookies this year.

It's all down hill from here

I think I'm in shape.  Not the 20-something, 138# size 3 with 11% bodyfat I was before I got pregnant.  No.  NOTHING like that.  Not even close.  I walk every day, work out occassionally, will take the stairs if given an opportunity.  Will do full day hikes in the mountains a couple of times a year.  Yeah - I'm OK for a forty-something medium height, medium build gray haired lady that wouldn't be caught dead in a two piece bathing suit.

Every Friday I have a business lunch at the Tampa Club.  It is beautiful.  Situated on the 42nd floor of the Bank of America building, overlooking beautiful Tampa Bay.  The food is delicious, the luncheon stimulating and fun, and the perfect end to my business week.  I usually go flying as fast as I can to hit the elevators and make it back over (then up) to the parking garage to get to my daughter's school in time for the weekly volunteer hour in her classroom.  So, this Friday, I rushed out of our room, only to find that the lobby, hall and elevator area was packed.  Apparently the public defenders office had their Holiday party, and the entire staff was waiting for the elevators.

This is a no brainer.  One set of elevators go to the upper levels, another set goes to the 15-32nd floor, and a third set for the lower floors.  I figured I would take the stairs down 10 flights, hop onto the other set of elevators and be on my way.  Well - I wasn't entirely sure what floors had different elevators, and was feeling OK after 10 floors, so I thought I would go down a few more.  After about 15 floors, I was pretty done, a little shaky, but good, and feeling good about the health benefits.  But - I had obligations, and needed to get going.  So, I pulled on the door handle. 

Locked.  In fact the sign informed me that this was a locked stair case with access at the roof and basement.  43 floors?  Well I certainly wasn't going up.  And did not want to be stuck on the roof.  So, I kept walking.  12 steps to the landing.  Turn.  12 steps to the next floor.  Turn.  Repeat.  As I got to the first floor, someone opened the door.  My Angel.  I honestly did not think I was going to make it to the basement, plus I wasn't sure how I was going to get out once I got there.

My legs were shaking, I actually took the escalator, without walking it to the bridge level (to get to the garage).  Did I mention the shaky legs?  Got to my car (heaven) and drove the 20 minutes to the school.  
Now - have you ever exercised really, really hard, then just sat down, cold, without letting the muscles cool down, say with air conditioning blowing on those tired muscles?

When I stepped out of the car - I crumpled (thank god no one could see).  I was able to drag myself to upright on the car door, and walked slowly, with dignity into the school.  But I have paid dearly for the impatience.  I cannot go up or down stairs without a vocal little ow ow ow ow with each step.  (OK, I could, but then how would everyon know how miserable I am?)

I'm recovering.  The daughter is sympathetic, but I'm sure she could have walked UP those 42 flights without a bit of remorse.  The husband has been gone all week-end, so has not been able to lavish me with sympathy or smirks.

 

Too much news, Too little time

YAY!!!
The DG is sate champion for her division in AAU gymnastics.  She is mortified that I am so proud.  She is proud, but much more subdued about it.  She Rocked!  Best meet ever, best scores ever, best vault ever!


sorry - am I gloating?  I am just so proud.  All of the girls did fantastic, they have worked so hard, and there have been so many changes this year, it just does me good to see them succeed.  One of our girls made 2nd in the Elite division for our level, and another of our friends, after a tough year of struggling, pulled 2nd in her division also.  I don't know the results for the whole gym, or even all the girls competing at our level - but they did AWESOME!


Today more busy, busy.  10 girls will be here at noon (one spent the night) to do Christmas presents for parents.  


gotta go - the dog hasn't been walked and there is lots of preparation ahead.

mini-van magic

We have an extra child - 3 mornings, 2 afternoons and occassional random extra times we have one of the DG's classmates.  He is (ugh) a BOY.  It's not his fault, and secretly, I think the kids adore each other.  They are more brother and sister (and look enough alike to be twins) than the mortal enemies that they profess when in ear-shot of their peers.  It is good to have him around.  Things are a little more balanced when I'm rushing two kids to stay on a schedule, and the girl gets away with nothing, as he will rat her out in a heartbeat (they are like siblings).

And, it is very good to test the operational quality of my secret parenting control device:  the car pool.  Oh yes, it is a machine of magnificent stealth.  Why else would a urban mom with one (full time) child need a six passenger mini-van that is decidedly uncool, yet oh, so practical?  Yes - it is a weapon of great significance.  You see, when I am the driver, even if I contribute to the conversation,  I am INVISIBLE.  I completely disappear off their radar screen.  They speak as if they are alone, and behave as if the power to destroy their life is not sitting in the front seat listening to old-people music.

The mini-van is the ultimate mommy tool.  Not just practical for hauling kids, equipment, dogs and groceries, it brings the holy grail of full disclosure to your very ears.  It must be used with caution, this is a very powerful, and dangerous tool. Never react to what you hear.  Any indication of surprise, and your cover is blown.  Bring up the conversation later.  Your child will think either:  You have magic mind reading abilities; or, their friends told on them.  Do not reveal your source.  Settling pack disputes of mysterious origin will keep them busy not hating you.  Realize, and beware!  if other adults are in the car, it works in reverse - they become invisible, and you must be very careful of the things you say, it will come back at the worst possible moment.

And - if you don't have one, get a multipassenger car, and haul your kids, their friends and everyone else around - if you dare! 

Hangin' in the Hood

I have the world's best neighbors.  Seriously; we all get along; I am completely interdependent with the people next door for getting kids from place to place; we do community meals once or twice a week, or maybe more often; the boys play music and drink beer; we girls share glasses of wine; the kids and dogs are always underfoot.


This weekend SE Seminole Heights had their annual home tour, and B'GOSH (Business Guild of Seminole Heights) had a little expo at one of the stops.  My darling husband is the Handyman of Seminole Heights, the next door neighbor has a Hire-A-Firetruck business, I had a booth, and Raquel down the street is president of B'GOSH, so she had a booth selling things for her sister, and managed to rope all of us into helping set up, etc.  The boys sat in a circle, playing music, drinking a dark, carbonated (or at least foamy) substance from plastic cups.  The massage therapist from across the hall at my office and I did chair massage.  I met a very cool acupuncturist, and saw people from around the 'hood that I had not seen in a while, and met some very fun, interesting folks.  We basically moved our casual Sunday afternoons together a few blocks, and made it public.  The evening consisted of a group meal at my house - 5 households: 13 adults, 5 kids, 7 dogs.  


Tired, happy, Good times!
Good news - one of my 4 jobs is actually going to turn into work at the end of the month.  The weekend after Christmas I picked up a contract placement in a nursing home.  This will be a little like being employed.  I'll be on someone else's schedule, have a supervisor sign my time card, and work with a team of other care-givers (on-site).  Wow, haven't done anything like this in almost 12 years.


I'm more than a little nervous.

Holiday Happiness

Usually, when I don't have the DG for Christmas, I fall into a somewhat crazed OCD fit of psycho baking and frenzied holiday cheer.  Two years ago I completely stocked our extra refrigerator with cookies.  LOTS of cookies, plus more in the freezer, some in zip-locks spread all over the house.  I knew I was losing it when she pulled me by the hand to the outdoor 'fridge, opened the door and said, "Mom, do we even know this many people?"  I was getting up at odd hours of the night to mix a batch, then baking them before work.  Tried and trusted recipes, new recipes, recipes that no one had heard of.

This year, I won't have her.  for some reason I am OK with that.  I'll do a little baking, it is tradition and all.  We put up the tree early - so she will have time to enjoy it, we have done a few more crafts than usual, but I've created a small number of each item, no compulsive repetitions of decorations that I won't know what to do with when I am done.  Weird - I keep waiting for the crazy to kick in.  

The OCD tendency only rears its head when I am very stressed. It used to be constant - although not severe enough to warrant treatment.  I was casually diagnosed by a psychologist/co-worker just before I started PT school.  She recommended treatment, but not until I got out of school - it is a useful affliction for studying.  For some very odd reason, all of those symptoms disappeared when I became pregnant.  Of course - my daughter shows some serious tendencies toward perfectionism and compulsions - good traits in a student and gymnast, but difficult to deal with at bed-time when she hasn't completed all of her little rituals.

When I am compulsive, it tends to be a huge pay-off for the family, I mean, there are worse ways to demonstrate the crazy than compulsive baking or churning out 37 sock monkeys in two months.

  And this year is so odd.  I should be stressed to the gills, money is tight, the economy is in the crapper.  The ex lost his job, and although that doesn't effect me directly, if he has to move away, or if it takes awhile to find employment, it will take a toll on our darling girl.  Chock it up to the pervasive feeling of hope that swept the country after the election.  Or maybe it's just that holiday spirit seeping in.  Whatever it is, I am relaxed, enjoying my life, my family, and things are good!

New Things

I will be the first to admit I am not very computer literate.  This is huge!  I uploaded an image - I know, kudos to me! you are all so proud!  This is a picture the DG (Darling Girl) took while at Hillsborough River State Park. 

  

I tried to embed a video of the dogs swimming in the bay.  Somehow I am not yet so evolved. When I work up to that, things will be even more entertaining.

A Christmas Story

North of  Tampa about 40 miles is a small family owned Christmas tree farm. When I lived in Dade City, we were near the original farm, and I had gone there with the ex and steps to cut trees, trying to recreate that magic of being in the woods that I cherish from childhood.  Florida trees are not like northern trees: dense, flimsy branches, and no smell.  But the experience of cutting your own tree is something every child should have, so I persisted.  When I hooked up with my daughter's dad, I tried to insist on real trees, but lack of children reduced my incentive.


When I left her dad, things were really tight.  We lived in a small (560 sq. ft.) bungalow we were renting from a friend, and experienced a closely budgeted hand to mouth kind of experience.  That year I was determined to have a wonderful Christmas with my daughter, regardless of budget.  She wanted not just a real tree, but a live tree.  Of course I turned to my favorite little tree farm in Dade City.   We were in luck, they had live, potted trees for as low as $30.  That tapped my budget, and gas was expensive (well - for 2002, I had no idea what the future held), so we headed north on I-275.

They were out of $30 trees.  In fact, the smallest live ones left were TINY, and over $45.


So - in my bravest, best, unworried Mommy voice, I explained to my daughter that they didn't have a tree in our price range just now, but we would try to come back in the next week-end, and maybe find a tree.  She handled it really well - I was closer to crying than she was, but she was very disappointed.  The owner noticed us walking away treeless us, and asked if he could help us find something.  I explained that the ad had shown $30 trees, and that was all we could really handle right now,  but we would try to come back, if I could get a little more cash together.

He thought about it for less than a second, held out his hand to my little girl and said, "You know, I think we have some $30 dollar trees over this way."  He let her pick out a potted tree.  It was a $60 tree, and it was perfect.

This is why every year, no matter how inconvenient, expensive, and time consuming it may seem, I buy my tree at Ergle's. We no longer cut our trees, and we haven't had a potted tree since.  But they have the best Northern trees around, so I get that fir smell that means Christmas.  And, I get the satisfaction of knowing that I am supporting a family that deserves all the abundance that the universe can throw at them.  

Do you have christmas story to share?

Black Friday Re-cap

When I have my daughter for Thanksgiving, we try to invite as many of her available friends as possible to come and do crafts on Black Friday.  The idea is to give parents time-out to shop, have fun for the kids, give me an excuse to stay in the house, avoid the crowds, and still appear to be a "normal" parent.  When we don't have her for Thanksgiving, we do a smaller group at some other random time closer to Christmas.  

This year we had 17 kids (16 girls, and one very brave little boy).  We made marble christmas balls, Terra Cotta Bell ornaments - and the crowning glory:  Marshmallow Snowman on a stick.  OOEY, Gooey, Hilarious, sugar coated heaven.  We had glue, paint and chaos everywhere.  The first child arrived at 7:30am, the last one left at 6:30pm.  We drank hot-chocolate, roasted marshmallows, ate pizza and LOTS of sugar.  We only had 3 minor accidents, 2 on the same child, and only a small amount of blood - that sounds pretty darn successful to me!

I sent them all home tired, sugared up and completely out of control.  I'm not sure if any of them will be allowed to come back.  My husband told me that when all of these girls hit 14, he plans to take up fishing, 'cause they already make him crazy.  WHAT!?!  I need back-up.  I only hold it together, because I know that when half of them are swinging from the trees out back, he'll step in and get at least some of their appendages back on the ground.

The good new is that they are all old enough to be really helpful.  They help me set up, do the crafts, and help me clean up.  Very little after mess.  When they were all 6, it was a lot more work, and not nearly as much fun (for me).

Hey - and the best part?  and I treasure these because I know they will disappear in a few years - The daughter told me that I am a FUN MOM, and she is really glad to have me - all wrapped up in an unsolicited "thank you."  Wow - thoughtful appreciation from a pre-teen - this is a parenting Gold Star.

Why am I doing this?

I have always jotted down my thoughts, emptying the "monkey mind" onto paper.  blank books and journals all over the house, stuffed under bookshelves, one or two pages written, a few pages missing - ripped out to serve some other purpose, or burnt with vengence to release the demons that I imprison on the page.

But now I write sporadically, to educate or inform.  My "real blog," Road to Slainte, is an informative news letter that I use to educate people about options for treatment in the world of chronic pain, especially pelvic pain or TMJ problems.  I write reports to doctors, emails to colleagues, instructional papers for patients or others.  I'm not sure if I remember how to write for fun, or therapy.  Pens (I hate pencils) are elusive creatures in our house.  Paper, especially lined, or bound, or pretty, loses itself under couches and mouse cages pretty easily around here.  Computers abound though.  My darling husband is a total geek, he has old, outdated, but very functional computers all over out house.

This adds to the constant confusion.  There are ALWAYS electronic things turned "on" in our house.  Computers, TV, musical devices in various forms.  We have a VERY small house, with all noise making contrivances pointing to the center, and we all sit in different rooms shouting across the house to communicate.  OK - we are probably the calmest, quietest house in our neighborhood, it just seems loud to me.  Then of course there are the 2 dogs, 1 cat, 2 mice, rabbit and lizard.  I shouldn't complain, my daughter takes care of everything but the dogs, with very few reminders.  When she is gone to her Dad's house, I take care of her animals.  The kid does like 20 minutes worth of animal chores every day, without complaint.  Weird.  I did chores (lots) as a kid - you know, the farm girl thing - but I remember complaining - more complaints than work if I recall.

If you know me (or not)- feel free to comment.