The Doll House Which Saved the World

I came home tonight from a long and soul sucking shift.    Angry, tired, and plain exhausted I couldnt get a hold on my head. 

 Life is what you get dealt, regardless of your standing on the ladder. 

 4 glasses of boxed wine, half a cold pizza, and 4 episodes of Breaking Bad.... I opened an email,

which, I thought was porn, titled"prettiest girl ever standing..." to see my little girl... not in porn, but spending time with her Aunt Sally. As the pictures opened, the grief, sadness and emotion poured from me. 

 The 12 hours of feeding a Hospice patient morphine every 15 minutes, explaining to the family why their mother,grandmother,wife was breathing so agonally…12 hours of sneaking to the bathroom to splash my red ,teared face..........it was all washed away.... Olive, alone with her Aunt Sally, playing with a doll house which meant the world to me. A doll house I longed for every other month when I stayed with my nieces.... hand made with love. Each picture opened and I could feel my angst wash away, looking at my daughter playing with a child hood memoryof my very own, alone, quiet, and happy.  My heart ached for my mom, for my dad....for a family I want my children to have. A family which my family in another state is making right for me. 

The family my dying patient had. All together, smiling, remimiscing, allowing love to happen.

I am thankful

here is the link to the slideshow for more details of the wonderful handmade doll house

These pictures of a day so simple washed it all away.

xoxox,

m

Elastic Running Shorts

We are going to now discuss something not many discuss.  Although I took a minute and googled it, so if you think I am some kind of freak….you are , well, right…but wrong.

This morning when I woke I thought to my slightly hung over self," You need to get up and run before it's 110 degrees out"

Yes, yes I do.  Then the arguing in my head, which I believe most runners do began.  "well, it is 6:10 am.  I'll just relax a bit more."

6:50 am, I could pick out paint colors for Olive's room.  Or how about I go vacuum the basement and finish up the laundry?  

"JUST GET UP!!!"

ok, ok…I'm up, but wait a minute.  When did I poop last?  I can't remember.  And although men do not understand this concept, I can't always remember when I pooed last because sometimes it is 3 days back.  Hmmmm?  I worked the last 3 days.  I know I didn't poop at work, that is impossible.  Was it Monday? No wait, it must have been Tuesday because we ate at the burrito place Monday night.  Almost 3 day ago.  I can't run if I don't poo first and 3 days of poo…now that is bad business.

7:15 am, let me have some coffee and see.  Ok.  Coffee, Facebook, think about it…and presto.  Off to the bathroom.  I unload and think:  good, but that was not nearly 3 days worth, but I pooed so I should be ok for at least 3.5 miles.  There is a bathroom at the Lake.

Shoes on, poop flushed, 7:55 am and 75 degrees out…let's get a move on lazy ass.

I get to the lake and feel good.  I put on Bill Burr's Monday Morning Podcast set my Nike + look for my friend Kris…(she's not there, but I always look)…and off I go.  I run a quarter of a mile and turn and decide to go the other direction around the Lake because I know the bathroom is closer….you know, just in case.

I run slow and steady.  The sound of Bill Burr in one ear and the crunchy gravel in the other.  The sky is clear and the mountains are visible for a change since the fires.  I run one mile, two miles.  My Nike says " Halfway point".  I'm on the farside of the lake, I'm keeping pace, sweating and wondering if all this working out is even worth it.  I'd rather be drinking Mimosas and eating a breakfast burrito.  Then I feel it.  Mile 2.75  a grumble, not in my stomach, but a little lower.  my mind begins to panic and my butt begins to tighten.   

No… Not on this side of the lake.  there is nothing here but wide open space, walkers and prairie dogs.  

I try to focus on what I'm listening to on my iPod .  This happens often, it gurgles then it recedes and I can make it to where I need to be before it lets loose.  I KNEW it…that was not enough this morning!…It's ok, I'll make it to the bathroom.  So, like the little engine that could I started the mantra.  You can make it You can make it ….I started looking at the prairie dog holes as options.  How rude would that be?  jeez.  I was looking at each sage brush as I passed by, "would anyone notice if I just shat right there?"  

Gurgle Gurgle

Argh…shit,…I'm not going to make it…I have to NOT think about this it's only 1 more mile to the bathroom …Don't fart, dont break wind….don't pass anyone…just clench and run, clench and run, 

Stupid Burrito…I don't care if it was 3 days ago, because I know it was the culprit.

As I eased around the lake and hit the welcoming sidewalk I could see the bathroom…"you can do it…don't think, "   As soon as I start thinking about not thinking about pooping. I decide I better walk so that I can clench better.  But then it takes longer to get to the bathroom…GurGle.  

I feel a little toot coming on.  No, No….that is NOT a toot.  don't even think if you toot that will relieve the pressure.  But my mind said one thing and my bodily functions said another.  

I just want you to know.  I made it to the bathroom.

The door was locked.

I was wearing running shorts with a pair of underwear on and they also had their own underwear sewn in with elastic cinched type leg holes.

I need these

I am thankful for the elastic pantaloons.  I am not thankful for the Burrito.  I would say my pride is hurt, but actually I kind of laughed to myself.  

Everyone poops.

Now maybe not in their running shorts at mile 3, but "shit happens'…and it was just a bit, tiny…you know…a warning for next time.  " Make sure you are done pooping before you run"

This is reality.

This is funny...

Seriously, it is

write ya later

m

PS…click the links…

it's Back…but not

Alopecia Sucks.

he was doing ok…then he said"Mom, I got a little spot, right here on the top."

It was little.

Maybe 1/2"

We went to the Dr.

She said, Let's try some steroid shots.

He said Ok.

Then 1 month later he is back to this.  

Summer, and he won't shave it.

He won't even look at it.

He lets me take a picture every month to keep track.

 The red on his neck is a birth mark

He still hasn't told anyone.  It's his secret, under his hat.

It will last a life time.

He has lost all the hair on his legs and arms.

I wish I could make him just shave the entire thing and go hatless.

But this is not my battle.

or my head.

or my hair.

xo,

m

empty nest

I just realized that no one comes home anymore around here. It's my day off and I sit alone. Olive went across the street and I told her to be home in an hour...it's been 2. Ilin Blue went to his dads house 2 weeks ago for the weekend and still has not come home, and Bobby was supossed to be home 40 minutes ago....nothing. Is this empty nest syndrome? Is this where I now get stuck sitting at home, doing laundry, planning dinner and reminiscing about every thing I wished I had done? Maybe start reading "50 Shades of Grey"? (but from what I know about that book...been there, done that) I'm not ready to sit back and retire yet. I'm 43 not 73. I have humor left in my heart, springs in my steps and a few ideas left. Although I have all of that floating around I have no gumption to put in order right now. time to go fold the laundry and make dinner write ya later m

laugh much?

Rick Rolling myself in the car is apparently hysterical to this kid.  

I just dont get it?  What's wrong with a little Rick Astley while sitting in traffic?

No one was around…just her.  

"I never wanna give you up….let you down….doo dee doooo dee"

First Yarn Bomb

Cherry Creek Arts Festival…about 7 minutes total…   needs a chain and ball

would you smile…?

I would

Linda Blair

Your Falafels are fine…
Mine are fine…yours are fine.  Just eat.   I don't want to be here all night.

But they taste burnt.

Olive, they are fine…they are fried, not burnt.

I sip my wine, and wait, and wait, and wait.

"Mom, Olive has so much food in her mouth she can't swallow it", Ilin says.

Jeesus Christ, I think to myself.  Why can't anything be easy?  What the hell is wrong with these kids?  They are making me nuts, driving me to drink more than even my liver wants, and they are sucking the life out of me mentally.
I glance over as Olive's cheeks are about to explode, eyes bulging from her head.

Damnit Olive…just eat it, quit playing around!

Ilin's giggling and trying to look unamused.  Olive has a big tear hanging from the corner of her eye.

I look away and take a big gulp of 5$ wine, which I have plopped an ice cube in.
Vacation sounds good.  mmmmmmbeach.  I look at the TV in the Falafal place.  X Games are on.
There is a 12 year old kid who just did a back flip on a motorcycle.   My kids can't eat a proper meal with out choking.  great….Great job I did.

Olive excuses herself to the bathroom where I assume she spits the food into the toilet.  I gulp the remainder of my wine.
Let's get outta here.  I wanna get home and sit…just sit and knit.

Home is hot.  It's been 103 here all week.  Dry and miserable and even more without air-conditioning.  The fires make the air hard to breathe.  We all just melt into the furniture for a while then I say its time to hit the hay.
My bedroom is hotter than hell.  Above the garage with no wind to cool it.  Even with the fan and nakedness I'm still burning up.  I fall asleep sweating, cranky and tired.

MOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!

What was that?  Ilin!  What was that noise.
wait, I know that noise…what
Oh My Effin God….no…

MOMMMMMMMMMM, Olive is Yaking every where!….

Fuck…fuck …arggghhhhh…

The spray was phenomenal.  Epic at best.

Her bed was covered.  It was sprayed on the wall (i followed the path), on the fuzzy pink rug she loves so much, onto the hardwood, into the hall, onto the new carpet "The new FUCKING CARPET!!!!!!",
on the wall in the hall, into the bathroom, in the bathroom drawer(which just happened to be open),in the tub, then she obviously remembered we puke in the toilet….which is where she was, head draped over the dirty toilet bowl.

"Goddamnit!, Fuck!  Come ON!  What the…. I don't want to cleant this shit up!"
My eyes filled with tears as the anger filled in my body.  True anger.
I looked at Olive who looked at me with tears, gasps, and a true apologetic look of fear.
How can I feel like this?  I could hear the curse words streaming from my mouth, unable to slow them, let alone stop them.
My head raced with every old lady crotch I wiped that day.  Every old man set of balls I powdered.  The messes I cleaned all day.  Nursing kindness I established with each of my patients through out the day.

I walked from the bathroom, took a deep breath, then turned around.  "I'm Sorry, Olive"
"Mammoo, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was going to happen"
"yes, I know"

I got the mop, steam cleaner, vacuum, and sponge.  Turned the shower on and put her in it as I started to clean.  I'm a bad, bad mom.  I know that.  
"here's a washcloth…use soap."

I cleaned it…I sprayed the febreeze, I took deep soothing breathes to right my mind….then I spent the rest of the night, holding Olives head and telling her I love her and her saying the same thing to me, and secretly praying this is not the one thing she remembers.  How awful her mom treated her when she threw up all over the house….Even though her mom is a nurse.

xo,
m

Let's rock this thing

Happy 4th!!!

Vintage Schwinn~ V8grrl

writing with love

Sitting in my drafts writing folder are multiple writings.  

All half finished. 

Just waiting.

Would you like to know whey they are just sitting there?  I'll tell you why.  Because every time I post I offend someone in my family or close friend.  Or I get an email from one of the unnamed which states , "that isn't true, or you must be crazy…or that is not what I remembered".  I understand that it is not what you remembered, but it is how I remembered it.  We all live our own lives, we all perceive what we feel at that time differently.

One by one I will hopefully write again.  Maybe I can chalk it up to writer's block.

Maybe to non inspiration

xo

m