Category Archives: Poo’s Ponderings

Random thoughts on random topics.

Spiders, Flip Flops, & Fortitude

  

These guys love the laundry room in the summer. Actually, the bathroom in general. These playful creatures often like to engage in games like: Hide-n-Seek, Tag, and my personal favorite…PEEK-A-BOO!  

They’re also little perverts. I’ve caught these “Peeping Toms” in the bathtub many times. Their favorite is to wait until you’ve closed your eyes as you rinse shampoo from your hair, sneak out into plain sight, and wait for you to open your eyes. Again with the games…SURPRISE! There was one I named Andre (the giant) was so good at this game I think I looked like the chick from the movie Fargo when she takes out the shower curtain trying to flee for her life.

The reason for this story is that my daughter, Tayler, was so fortunate to have met Andre (or his bigger brother) also while showering. She screamed for me to come play too.

T: “MOM!! Get it!” (Andre – the size of a fifth cent piece-is on the ceiling right above the shower head…Tayler in the far corner.)

Me: 😱 “Eff. No.”

T: (strangled whisper) “Mom…please…”
So I try to swat Andre with my flip flop, but I’m short – so I just kind of brushed him off the ceiling.

T: “OH MY GOD MOM!!”

Me: “OH MY GOD TAYLER!! I’m so sorry! Use the water to get him down the drain!”

I hear sniffles.

Me: “Are you freaking CRYING?!”

T: “Yes…but it’s not in here with me.”

So now we’re playing Hide-n-Seek. I see Andre, on the shower curtain in front of my face. I don’t scream because…well, what if Andre jumps in my mouth? Fear makes people irrational. Don’t judge.

As I scrambled back in horror, Andre tried to play Tag. Once I saw he missed and landed on the floor, I felt it was safe to scream.

The bathroom door bursts open and Tookie quickly assessed the situation, “tagged” Andre and then tossed him in the toilet and walked out.

Tookie saved us, and Tayler finished her shower.

Tayler is currently in therapy at MCRD Parris Island, overcoming fear.  

Summer Fun with Baby Son

Okay, so Ethan is not a baby, but he is (as Hubs calls him) The Last of Our Mohicans.

This is the last summer I get to spend doing the things I used to feel were such a tiring pain in the ass. I’m being quite honest. The summer reading program, keeping track of reading logs, dragging a “swim bag” of towels, sunscreen, nachos and pretzel monies, and just a whole lot of “UGH!” for a few moments of summer fun.

It was a different time then. With my older two at this age we also helped taking care of Yai. I had a car of basically twins, an infant and a sick mom criticizing EVERY thing I did. Summer was too hot, too much work,  and not much fun for me.

My older two, one graduated and one graduating next year, have their own lives. I may or may not see or talk to them for a couple days. Elena, one half of The Littles, is a a new teen, but her summers are spent with her father. She gets to vacation. I can’t remember if she’s going to San Antonio, San Francisco, or Sandy Eggo…

That’s a good thing for the both of us. The school year is a little high-stress for us.

Ethan is the only one I haven’t had to share parenting time with and still thinks hanging out with mom is “cool” (for the most part) and fun.

Next summer he’ll want to take off and go run around town and do the same things with friends instead of mom. Next year it’s lame to hold my hand to cross the street, embarrassing to visit for school lunch.  I turn into the, “do-you-have-money, hold-my-stuff, bring-me-my-jersey, I-forgot-my-permission-slip-drop-everything-and-bring-it-to-me” Lady.

I still have fond memories of time spent with my older three, but this one being MY baby…it’s my last hurrah and I want to slow things down, even just for the summer.

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Just Curious

I was going to ask earlier and I forgot.

Does anyone else wash her husband’s feet?

I remember the first time I washed Hub’s feet and how surprised he felt. It was silent and intimate, but not sensual. We were not married yet and still in the goofy hand holding and giggly stage.

He had cashed his paycheck after work, bought snow cones for the kids, put gas in my car (just because), and offered to help me in the kitchen. I thought, “Why would he do that?”

He looked so tired. His body seemed to melt into the couch. His slight limp from the snow cone truck to the door said to me his feet hurt.

I didn’t answer him. Instead I made a basin of hot water and epsom salt and grabbed the peppermint lotion.

I couldn’t believe the protest and embarrassment over something like naked feet. He was so shy.

“No, don’t. My feet are sweaty. They probably stink. I have athletes foot. I have toenail fungus. I’m ticklish.”

All I said was, “Do you trust me?”

He wasn’t lying about anything he said about his feet. (You remember the spa scene in Dumb and Dumber?)

I worked on his feet, found the reason for his limp (in-grown toenail), and massaged peppermint lotion on his feet and calves.

“That was amazing. No one has ever done that before. Why would you touch my feet?”

I just kind of shrugged and said, “I just felt it needed to be done.”

If you can’t handle washing his feet just because, can you handle the things that are yet to come?

Love your peeps.

Foot Washing

Reality Check

Remember the good old days when you would think, “I’m going to be just like my mom/dad when I grow up,” to the “I will NEVER be like my parents stage.”

Can you remember when you were that young? I can. The boy you were sure you were going to marry someday? Scribbling your name with his last name, naming your children (one each, boy first to protect his baby sister). That first REAL love you swore you would die for. Life was going to be perfect.

Wedding, first house-warming, hosting your first grown up dinner party, baby showers, first official family pictures, etc.

I thought about all those things as I was driving home from Pueblo yesterday. It took me a minute to realize how shaken I actually was. Then I realized there were many things I’ve experienced that I never imagined I would.

I never imagined I would be married, divorced with two children and move back home before I was 23.

I never imagined I’d watch my mother writhing in pain from her first chemo treatment, begging for help to make it stop. I never shaved anyone’s head before, until my mom’s, because she got tired of shedding. I cried the whole time.

I have never seen my father look so helpless and defeated than the night my mother died.

I never thought that someday I would be picking out an urn for my mother.

I never, ever, expected or imagined my dad married to anyone else but my mother, but he’s happily remarried to Lisa.

Reality check: They both fulfilled their vows completely with their first marriages. Two major ones married people promise, but for some I don’t think give a really honest thought as to what that means.

In sickness and in health, and until death do us part.

Both lost their first spouses, their best friends, the love they would die for, to cancer. I don’t know the details of Lisa’s journey and it’s not my story to tell. I can say, from my perspective, my dad did everything he ever promised my mother. He was, quite literally, by her side until death separated them.

Why am I telling you this? Because I had my own reality check and it was scary.

Hubs and I have our ups and downs, joke about whether we’ll stay together after our youngest graduates, get into routine that we forget that we used to like cuddling and holding hands and such. I take very good care of my Hubs, albeit grudgingly at times. It’s my job to know him, spoil him and love him, even when I can’t stand his annoying and obnoxious ways, I will still wash his feet. (Yes, I wash my husband’s feet…not daily, but I do give him a pedicure once a month or so.)

Boring, mundane, no spark or passion. Just familiarity and day dreaming about what-if’s.

So we went to Pueblo to visit Hub’s brother Dale in the hospital. Took Ethan to eat, walked around the mall, and decided to take silly pictures in one of those photo booths.
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Ethan, excited to grab the pictures first, yanks the curtain open and jumps out. Hubs and I both laughing and then I turn to look at him.

Just like that, I was holding the full weight of my husband as he was trying to breathe. He looked like my children when they cry so hard there’s no sound and you blow in their face. I actually tried that. No response other than turning red.

“Oh shit…this is not happening.”

I get him back on the bench. His body is trying so hard to breathe, but nothing is happening. He’s like a fish out of water and turning purple. His eyes seem like they’re going to burst through his eyelids though they’re tightly shut.

“Shit…this is NOT happening!”

Okay. His inhaler won’t work, if he’s not breathing. I glance at Ethan staring at us. I need to breathe, no one is around the booth and I don’t have a cell phone.

My whole world just shrank to this photo booth. Ethan is watching his two superheros. Focus, damn it.

Shaking Hubs and calling his name, nothing. I punch his shoulder he had surgery on, nothing. He’s not unconcious, but he’s not able to do anything. I slap him, calling his name, nothing.

“Sweet Jesus…take a breath or pass out!”

He’s purple now, but not unconcious. Is mouth to mouth possible during an asthma attack?

“SHIT. This is happening.”

His body goes limp and he stops struggling for air. He’s so purple.

10…9…8…

“Take a breath. PLEASE take a breath…”

Nothing. 7…6…5…

Sternum rub….nothing.

“Oh God – Ethan…move!”

4…3…2…

I’m throwing him on the ground and starting mouth to mouth if he doesn’t start to…

*GASP*

I shove his inhaler in his face for his next breath.

Five minutes. That’s how long it was from the last picture, to the puff on his inhaler. It was a long ride home to take him to AVRMC. He and Ethan slept most of the way. I drove and silently cried. Thought of all the things before and it hit me very hard.  I’m his person. The in case old emergency person.

When you watched “The Notebook” did you think it was a wonderful love story, or did you contemplate the reality that love isn’t always beautiful? It’s scary, uncertain, messy, painful and rare.

I do hope I grow up to be like my dad. He loved my mom when it was fun, long-distance, toxic, playful, routine and uncertain. He especially loved her when they received their reality check and it was certian the end was near.

I’m not perfect, I’m not always kind. I do try.

Remember to tell someone you love him or her and do it often. It’s not always up to you how your love story ends.

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I Fight Myself Everday

I’ll admit, since my mother died (quite awhile ago), I have my moments that some days just getting out of bed is a lot for me.

I don’t lay around crying or anything like that but I have days things seem harder than the day before.

My other FB Friends post their workouts and motivational quotes, making changes, change your thinking, etc. I like reading about it. I’m still not there yet.

When you see me with my hair done and make up on, it’s not part of my daily routine.

Did I hit the gym or start a workout today? No…but I did wake, praise Him and take inventory.

I count my blessings, say thank you, pray today is the day the lonliness and frustration leaves my heart, and then get out of bed. Sometimes, that’s the best I could give that day.

Remember to smile and use kind words to people you see. You never know what they’re struggling with.

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