I Must Be Deaf

Hot and humid. Air conditioner is on. Washer and dryer are both going. My grandson is banging his toys on the big aluminum bowl I gave him to play with. I’m at the kitchen sink with the water running trying to clean up the mess my daughter made when she cooked dinner. There’s a fan blowing the cool air from the front room to the kitchen just so I don’t melt while doing dishes. Other family members are doing what they normally do. The tv is on; time for Shepard Smith on Fox News. It’s louder than usual so we can hear it over the air conditioning. Household noise. Just can’t get away from it especially in a small house.

Dad walks through the kitchen talking, trying to tell me something he just heard on the news. I can’t hear him. He repeats what he said, coming back through the kitchen. If he would just stand still and near me I just might be able to hear him. I still can’t hear all of what he said. He gets frustrated and says “nevermind.” He thinks I have a hearing problem. He talks softly. Sometimes he’s moving from one room to another while talking. This has happened so many times before. I have tried to get through to him that I can’t hear him through the running water, washer, dryer, tv, fan, air conditioning, etc.

I guess I must be deaf.

Where’s Criss Angel When You Need Him?

A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was in dire need of a vacation. I just needed to get away. In fact, I wanted to just disappear. I’m really feeling this in reality so I can understand why those feelings came out in a dream.

The funny thing about the dream is that Criss Angel was there. (If you don’t know who Criss Angel is then you need to look him up…. He’s the ultimate illusionist!) Anyway, I wanted so much to disappear and Criss Angel was happy to oblige. He directed me to a very large, refrigerator-sized cardboard box. He helped me climb inside and closed the box. I heard some mumbo-jumbo and then it was completely silent. It felt as though I was floating. I felt no fear, no pain, no aggravation, no anxiety whatsoever. I was at peace. I was happy and calm. I had no worries.

Then I woke up. Those warm, calm feelings were gone. It was time to get up and face another day filled with stress and worry.

Now when I’m feeling like I want to just disappear, I ask myself (and sometimes aloud) “Where’s Criss Angel when you need him?”

Finding The Words…..

This post is a long time coming. It’s been months since I was able to find the words to describe the feelings of hurt, dissapointment, fear, anger and frustration that I have been feeling.

S.R. made some bad choices and is paying the price. She has learned the hard way that making the absolute wrong choice will lead to not only personal consequence but also to more stress and more financial worries. I hope this is the beginning of the end of her problems and not the beginning of more. This I say because she has not realized what I had been hoping she would realize. She is still in love with J. and will stand by him no matter what. He will be in prison until next month and when he is released, S.R. will go with him and take my beautiful grandson with them.

For right now, S.R. and my grandson D.M. are staying with me. I am loving every second of it, even through the constant messes and disasters S.R. leaves everywhere she goes! Yes, it’s her who makes the messes, not the baby! D.M. is 7 months old now and he is the most beautiful child! He has the brightest, happiest smile and the bluest dark blue eyes! I feel the tears coming as I type because I know soon I won’t see him when I awake in the mornings. He won’t be there to brighten my day. I won’t be able to make him smile or giggle or kick his little Fred Flintsone feet in absolute joy! I won’t see many of his firsts…..

On the bright side, I have witnessed many of D.M.’s firsts! The first time he started walking in his walker, his first visit to a pet store, his first day at the park, his first jar of baby food are just a few. I bought him his first swimming pool which he loves sitting in on a hot day and splashing himself. His first sippy cup…..which he’s still trying to master!

I feel so blessed to have him in my life but why must he go away? It’s just life I guess. Children grow up and have children of their own. They move away. It happens every day. That doesn’t make it any easier. I will have my memories and I will pray that not too much time passes between visits.

The Thing About Cats……

Don’t get me wrong, I love cats. They are my favorite animal and I have 4 of them. I love them all dearly. They all have their own little personalities and they have their own little quirks…these things make them unique and special in my eyes. I love my little furbabies and would miss them dearly if something were to happen to one of them.

Smokie is the handicapped spayed female. She was hit by a car (or kicked by a cow, not sure exactly) and she has very limited eye sight. She is not allowed to go outside without supervision. Kitty (also spayed female) is the baby of the house. She’s almost 2 years old now. She’s psychotic, has red eyes and can turn on you in a split second. She is not to be trusted! On the other hand, she’s scared of everything that moves and the outdoors. She stays inside and doesn’t ever want to go out. Fine by me. One less cat to let in and out.

Fuzz and Korn are the males (neutered, shh don’t tell them!) and they usually go outside at night, which I don’t especially like but they are very wise and have a keen sense of danger. They come in the house in the morning and sleep all day until 5pm, which is their dinner time and they always seem to know the exact time!

Last night, for some reason Fuzz and Korn both stayed inside. Maybe it was just too cold for them at 25 degrees or so. It’s not like they haven’t been out in the cold before but maybe they’re just getting too old for it. Who knows.

The thing is I woke up this morning with Fuzz looking at me as if he wanted to go outside. I figure he probably does have to go out for a potty break. I ease my way out of bed and he’s waiting for me in the middle of the living room when I get there. I go to the door and open it, calling for him to go outside. He sits there and stares at me and then the door. I call him a few more times and then I just give it up. I figure he’s got something else on his mind. By the time I get to the spot where he sat watching me, he makes a mad dash for the door like he wants out! I was very aggrivated at this point but I went back to the door and opened it. Again, he just sat there and looked at the door. What the heck? I tell him to “just go outside you little furbrained terd. Stop F***ing with me!” He is finally outside and I’m relieved to have ended this game of his as quickly as I did. Sometimes these games go on all night long! In and out, in and out. One comes in the other wants out….all night long. It drives me insane.

I know, it’s my own fault for putting up with it. Dad tells me to throw their asses out whether they like it or not. Well, I understand that’s what I should do but they are my furbabies. I can’t just throw them outside as if I don’t care that it’s cold out or that there may be a coyote lurking about near the yard. I love them dearly.

And the thing about cats is that they love me unconditionally and their only demands are to be fed and let in and out and in and out and in and out……. What would I do without them? (I would probably be just as crazy so what the heck?)

Memories & Getting Old

Last night, my father and I had a conversation about the longevity of many of our ancestors on his side of the family. A great, great aunt had lived to be 110 years old and to this day, credit is given to the natural spring that fed her property. My great, great grandmother lived to be in her 90’s and had never smoked, drank or swore a day in her life, so she said. Of course, she believed she got pregnant from kissing a boy and that you could get pregnant from swimming in a public pool too.

During the conversation, we were trying to remember what year my grandmother and grandfather died. I can’t remember the years exactly, but I can remember the skirt I wore to my grandmother’s funeral and that it was around the time I graduated from high school. I remember that I was pregnant with S.R. at my grandfather’s funeral, which was 1987. I can remember going to see my great grandmother in a nursing home the same year and that I wanted her to see S.R. when she was born. But Gramma never made it. She passed away without ever meeting her great, great grandbaby.

Our conversation made twists and turns, as most random conversations do. We ended up talking about how awesome it would be to live to be in our 100’s because we could tell some really tall tales! Everyone would be interested, except of course our great grandchildren, who would have better things to do. No one would dispute our stories because they weren’t around back then! Many of them would just say we were a french fry short of a happy meal.

Then something occurred to me.

If I live to be in my 100’s, would I even remember anything about my life? Would I remember enough to tell any kind of story at all? I’m 46 years old now, and I have a hard time remembering what we had for dinner last night! Odd how I can remember the skirt I wore to a funeral over 20 years ago but can’t even remember I have a load of clothes in the washer!

It has suddenly become very scary to grow old. I can’t imagine not having my memories. What about the memories of my children as they grew up, the good times, bad times and the memories of family and friends? What about the memories I will have of my grandson D.M.? My memories are sacred to me. What happens when I’m dead and gone? My memories will be gone too.

It’s clear to me that I must write everything down! I have to put all of my memories into written form so that my children and grandchildren have something to remember me by! I wish I would have kept up my childhood diary! Just think of the memories that would be in those!

So now, I have yet another thing on my To Do List. So many things left to do and not enough time to do them!