Don't wake the baby

Let sleeping dogs lie and for God's sake don't wake the baby!
I felt that way this evening. My grandson fell asleep and we breathed a sigh of relief. He is a little over one. Can walk anywhere and climbing is a big deal.
Want something to stay in place? Don't have a toddler on the premises. Uh Uh. Doesn't happen.
Kids started coming home from different events, dogs started barking and it was a mad dash to quiet everyone before a whimper issued forth.
All was calm until our oldest and slightly neurotic dog, Tillie, barked to let us know there was something out the back door. Now, keep in mind, this dog is really my baby. I raised her from the time she was 20 days old. Bottle fed the pup, held her on my chest to let her hear my heart beat as she would her really dog mother. George brought her to bed with us to make sure she would be warm on winter months.
Really our baby.
Tillie barked. She has a herding dog bark geared toward getting the cattle's attention. Tillie barked and we heard the whimper coming from toddlerville. What should I do first? Get after the dog or shhhhhh the baby? The child's mother came down the stairs and comforted the boy.
I got after the dog. Quietly scolding her. The look made me feel bad. She was just trying to alert me...
I think I can only do one baby at a time.

Boxing Day

My husband and I have 3 children. We love them. Willingly provide for them. I keep their needs in want in mind and also keep open a good line of communication.
Our daughters never fail to tell me needs and wants. They also proceed to tell me ever so much more than I ever wanted to know. Our son is not quite so glib but he does seemingly communicate quite well. Or so I thought until this morning.
I made mention of going to the larger big town later in the day and did anyone need anything from big box store.
One daughter mentioned facial cleanser. Another daughter added to the list as well.
Our son approached me in the kitchen. He stated he needed boxers. He was down to 2 pair.
Now, I have to wonder where the others had disappeared too. I really try to make sure the kids all have appropriate amounts and types of undergarments. The girls love that fact.
Nothing delights them more than to go to any store and go through the lingerie department. Picking out bits of fluff here and there. Victoria's Secret provides at least one hour of entertainment.
Back to the boxers. I asked the boy where the underwear had gone. He honestly had no clue. Perhaps they joined the half pair socks.
You know the ones. The single sock that disappear in the washer or dryer after one wearing.
So the boxers have been bought. Nine pair. They passed inspection with flying colors.
I asked that next time he let me know before he gets down to the 2 pair.
The boy said "No problem. Christmas is only 2 months away. He always gets underwear in his stockings. That will do for the rest of the year."
I wish his sisters thought that way.

Senioritis

Our middle daughter is a senior in high school this year. Something I may have mentioned before. She knows everything. Just ask.
Now Fi, on most days, is a really great individual. Truly believes that everyone has some good in them. That good will triumph over bad. That unicorns probably existed and will again if we just give them a chance.
Well, maybe that goes a bit far, but you get my drift.
Anyway, that is on most days.
Then there are the days when Fi becomes queen. The tiara is placed upon her head and all should bow. Surely she should not have to do menial work, consort with the lowly that also reside here, or listen to the mindless drivel coming across the media not of her choosing. School? Harumph! The beloved? Should dance attendance.
Keep that job at DQ. Queens are needy.
That is Fi lately.
So I as queen mother, have needed to have a chat with her regal self. A "Come to Jesus" meeting as it were. Pouting and flouncing were abounding.
Those damn unicorns better show up tomorrow.

Birth Certificates

Every time I think perhaps the local paper might be backing off ever so slightly on crazy ass thinking, along comes yet another editorial blowing that hope off the map.
Happened the other day. "Birthers" raised their ugly heads yet once again. The president is not a "Real American". Wasn't born in the USA. (Imagine a grunt right here.)
Does not matter his birth certificate has been made public. Does not matter the doctor that signed said certificate swore it was the real deal. Nope. Just the hint of doubt is all that is needed.
This sort of thinking and acting takes place in the local high school/middle school. I think we call it bullying. Usually brought on by ignorance (usually selective) and insecurity. Maybe a tinge of fear of the world. Being a teen is probably one of the scariest times in life.
But if we see it in the newspaper, on the news or at the gas station where the "guys" meet for a prayer breakfast, how then do we teach the kids not to do the same?
Start writing. Start talking.
I am.

Watching

I watched a close friend get it together this afternoon after speaking with Medicare. Her husband is in an assisted care facility due to alzheimers.
A sad struggle at best.
Medicare refuses to step in to help pay for the care. There seems to be a workman's comp case outstanding on her husband from 10 years ago. The case was a mistake to begin with. Admittedly on the part of the husband's insurance company. But the case is still outstanding. The insurance company says no. Medicare says yes.
Carol and her husband, his retirement, their life together are the victims. Dignity has gone out the window.
So after she "got it together", she called our congressman.
I pray he helps.
We need something different.
We as a people need to fight for one another.
To give one another dignity and grace.

Here's Swiney!

Kind of like "Here's Johnny!". Only not as much fun. As a matter of fact, it is not fun at all. Our middle child, 17 year old daughter, has the swine flu. Oh, excuse me, N1H1.
Whatever. She is sick. Feels like she has been hit in the stomach by a bus. The rest of her body feels sick. Purple baggy circles under the eyes. A sight to behold. Just don't stand next to her.

Now Fi does not like to miss school. Not that she is a great scholar. Nope, not one bit. But the social aspect lures her like a moth to flame. She can't resist. But today was different. Very.
Stayed home. Lolled on the couch and moaned. Took drugs when told and felt sorry for herself. Even Nolan the beloved could not make life better.

I have an idea. For every Republican not endorsing health care reform, we send a swine flu sick Fi clone. Maybe send an excessively pooping 1 year old too (we have one of those too). Health care reform will pass in less than 24 hours.
Guaranteed.

Insurance

I watched Olberman tonight. A special comment on health care reform. In doing so, I could not help thinking of my father's passing this last year. When I knew he could not go home again, I had to face where he needed to be, a hospice. I talked with George and we faced the what ifs. What if he didn't have the money to be in hospice and even in a nursing home. We knew the money was not there to provide in home care. We knew we could not do it. Physically provide that home health care.
George and I knew the others in the family did not have the money. Period. So in taking very deep breaths, together we decided we would back the bill if it came down to it.
Hospice.
When Dad went in, I signed the papers. No other thought. No regret.
Dad lasted a week. He received excellent care. He died with dignity. And he died even with the world.
He did not owe. Insurance took care of it. Dad would have liked that. It was right.
There are so many that don't have that insurance. Or the family to help. So many daughters and sons have to stand by and helplessly watch a parent suffer and/or die. That there is no money to buy the needs of their parent(s).
It is wrong. The ethics to reform are not being recognized.
The world is not coming to an end as the doomsayers would have us believe. But there is so much that can be done.
It is up to us.
Start writing. Start calling. Start volunteering your time. Start giving your money.
Make a difference.
Lives depend on it.

Talking with

I spoke with like minded people tonight. Talking about our local paper and the editorializing, if that is what you would like to call it. I can't think of the local paper with out thinking about the general attitude in the midwest. Fearmongering and doomsayers. Can there be nothing good found in the world today? I mean really! Open discussion is not. Express your opinion and it meets with criticism and derision.
The world is not coming to an end and yet there are individuals shouting at the top of their lungs that it is.
Well, it isn't. It just isn't.
Where did the hope go for these people?

Too many cooks

There are 3 women living in our house. It is a very tight fit. Believe me. There is a toddler with his mother, maternal aunt and maternal grandmother all on premises. A very tight fit indeed.
The mother and son are back home due to economic reasons. Reasons she is working on and making better everyday. But still....
The aunt is a senior in high school. She is all that. Just ask. Now as a mother that has been here 2x before, this is no surprise. It is to her father. George wants her to remain the sweetheart she has been since birth. That side to her is still there. She just wants to stretch her wings. More than we are willing to allow and more than her brain can really handle. The girl just doesn't see that. She will in 10 years when it no longer is an issue.
The young mother is 21, pursuing nursing and all that entails. She is raising a year old son. Toddling, reaching, learning the meaning of "no" and ignoring it. Cait is learning pregnancy is easier than mothering. So is labor. Priorities are everchanging. Exasperatingly so.
I am middle aged and not prepared to be grandmother on site. The boy is a delight. Devoted to the little poop. Really.
Love my daughters. In all their know it all glory. Really
But I am chief cook and my name is on the title of the house. At least it was last time I checked. This everchanging scene is not what I expected. For that matter, I don't know what I expected.
Surely there is a manual out there. Some wise old crone sat down and in her wisdom wrote a tome for any women 45 and older. Telling how to deal with daughters. How to lead them into a good life, a fulfilling life. One where we don't want to commit homicide before they reach that wonderful plateau.
I am sure I never gave my mother such cause for concern.

Birthday

Today would have been Mohandas Ghandi's birthday. A man just a man. But an individual who lived and breathed non-violence. A culture and society that could not abide the concept. So he died by violence.
I can't see that we as a society have progressed much. To believe non-violence as means to the end. To speak of peace. To believe life for all can be better. Not just for an elite few. These are concepts that can't be broached by some. Not all, but some.
So now is the time to start writing. Encourage others to think beyond their perceived comfort zones. Start changing 1 person at a time.
Beyond conversion in a religious sense. Conversion in a sense benefitting all around.
I think it can happen. Really.
One person at a time.