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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The Color Rose

I’m one of those people who will close my eyes, open my Bible and point to a spot on the page then read the scripture that I randomly picked, then wonder in amazement how that verse seemed to fit in my life today.   That’s typically how I pick where to read, or how I pick my “Scripture of the Day” for my posts. At least I open it and it’s not just collecting dust on my nightstand. I think that’s how most people who say things like, “God bless you” but don’t go to church regularly, aren’t saved but say they believe, typically do things. They’re standing there at the open doorway, just waiting to take a step. Whether it’s toward, or away, could be up to you. You never, ever, really know what motivates a person.
Everything I post is for my amusement, entertainment and from my perspective. How I see things, not anyone else. I certainly don’t claim to be an expert at anything, other than being me. I also never posted that I am a Christian, how other people should live their lives, or that I am always right.
Social Media is a double-edged sword wielding giant. Used for great things, but people have to choose whether they will use their “powers” for good or evil. For the most part people I think people are “lukewarm” – there is a scripture I like that could go with that, but I don’t want to seem  self-righteous.
Speaking of self-righteous and social media, I did something yesterday. Quite purposely, to see what kind of reactions I would get. I must say I was surprised…at first. Then when I thought about it some more, I was more disappointed, but not surprised. It is what it is, and life will go on.
When I scroll through my FB newsfeed there are people who post pics of their families and kids and talk about how wonderful their life is together, etc. These posts get criticized because, “we know your life isn’t that perfect” or “no one is that happy”, so along with the “dislike button” we wish for an “eye roll” button.
Usually, I post things that have to do with cooking, because that’s what I like. Other times I post about my kids, TONS of pictures and then of course Hubs. I tease my Hubs often. I joke that I do all the heavy thinking or I tease him, publicly, for the silly things he does. It’s funny to me, and it’s funny to other people – including Hubs. I don’t know this because people “like” my FB posts, I know this because we are often approached while grocery shopping, at games or just out and about. They tell us, “omg that made me laugh. You guys are crazy!”  These aren’t secrets people. I’m not talking shit about my husband “behind his back”…on the Internet.  (Duh.)
Then there are the posts where people bitch and moan and air their dirty laundry with filthy language (can’t spell for shit – yes, I know I have misspellings here and there but you can tell I at least made it to 8th grade) and just draw/spread negativity. Then again, I can’t presume to know someone’s motivation behind their posts. It’s not for me to speculate or judge, criticize or assume. Wait…that’s getting a little Christian-ish so…let’s go back to my FB post.
If you have read my blog, here is what you should know about me so far:
  • I am trying to apply daily scripture to my day’s experience.  – Now, I did not grow up in the church, I do not have a set devotional time, and I am practicing to be a Christian. I don’t think I can say that I actually am one, because Christian is  “Christ-like” and well…clearly I am not.
  • I am only human. I am a stay at home mother (SAHM), love my children and my husband very much, but often feel like poking them in the eye with a sharp stick.(That’s normal, but it’s not nice.) I cuss, (it’s not ladylike and a bad habit, but at least I don’t smoke anymore) and I covet. I will window shop online and covet like a madwoman.
  • I pick a random scripture and try to apply it to my own personal current events. I am not trying to actually create dialogue about religion, beliefs, and have actual theology discussions. I am certainly not flinging scripture at you in the same manner a monkey flings shit at the zoo. 
  • I started blogging to laugh at myself and my weaknesses. You know, when I stumble from trying to be Christ-like. Being a nice person ALL the time is hard, especially in this society. I think I am showing you I am aware of my weaknesses and what I do to try to correct my behavior, as best I can. I’m not blogging for approval or acceptance. I’m bored and just like everyone else that has a blog for whatever reason, I too, am inflicting my opinions on the world.
So…FB. I am one of those people who posts often. Mostly those annoying pictures of food and my kids, or my kids making food. Mostly they are moments I catch my people doing things that warm my heart or make me proud. Me, not you…but I’m going to share that moment with you. I laughed, maybe you will too. I thought it was cute, maybe you will too. Perhaps you had a shitty day and my #GilbertFunnies made you smile. Mission accomplished. Have a nice day. Mostly, it’s because in that moment I captured, for one reason or another, “my cup runneth over” and I am excited about life in general. Maybe I offended you. Maybe, you offended me first, or maybe…I just don’t care.
Do you remember that movie, “Castaway” with Tom Hanks and his friend Wilson, the volleyball? There is a scene in that movie that describes the feeling behind my FB posts.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IS7Og1zvdy8
Yesterday I posted this:
FB
I do complain, but this post is not how I actually feel about Hubs. Not everything is moonlight and roses, so let’s re-examine this post, this time through rose-colored glasses. I think everyone should have an imaginary pair to look through whenever things seem negative or hard or frustrating. I use mine when I’m looking for my daily blessing I said I would post.
What first changed the attitude of this post was my adding, “while you were sleeping”.   Of course Hubs was sleeping in, it’s his day off. Why shouldn’t he? Have you not been reading how he is a hard worker? In fact, if I wrote this on a work day, it would have been, “while you were at work…” because Gilbert wakes up at 4:30 a.m. to commute to work. He leaves the house around 4:45 a.m., picks up The Guys that he gives rides to, and works a long, gross and laborious day. He usually gets home by 4 p.m. and then we are off to some school/kid related thing.  He works at a Hog Farm and it took me about a year to get used to the pig smell that still lingers on his hands after he’s showered. He works 7 days on 3 days off and then the following week it’s 8 on and 3 off – but in my husband’s case lately he’s been working 9 on 1 off and then 10 on and 1 off.
I worded my FB post that way because people are selfish and complainers. While you were thinking that about me, did you remember to thank YOUR spouse for being YOUR spouse today?  Things aren’t always pretty and relationships are never perfect, but sometimes if you use your rose-colored glasses, they do help you see what my favorite pastor reminds us often.
You’re doing better than you think you are.
Love your people, remember to thank them for just being them, and cherish every minute you have. Life itself is never guaranteed, so not only should you stop and smell the roses once in awhile, try looking at things through rose-colored glasses a little more often and when you do, don’t think that you are trying to make things better than they actually are. Believe that things are not as bad as you are making it seem.
“While you were sleeping” – is a fact. Hubs was sleeping in.
“Finally fixed the kitchen drawer…” – is a fact. I kept saying I would get to it and I finally did.
“…organized the crap…” – well, they are junk drawers and some of it is just crap taking up space. It did need organizing, I just needed to fix the drawer first.
“You’re also welcome for drinking my coffee…” – Hubs drinks my coffee every time he has the day off. He thinks he’s funny, but I know he’s going to. That’s why I make a bigger pot on those days.
“The first thing you do is speak to me in a tone that pisses me off…” – true, but sometimes people misunderstand, misinterpret and start shit for no apparent reason than it’s human nature.
My post wasn’t mean and complaining. It was the tone you chose to read it in.

Scripture of the Day:

2 Timothy 2:23-25(NLT)
23 Again I say, don’t get involved in foolish, ignorant arguments that only start fights. 24 A servant of the Lord must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone, be able to teach, and be patient with difficult people. 25 Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth.

Blessing:

Today’s blessing that I would like to highlight is my son Michael. I’m thankful my husband has affordable medical insurance for our family, and feel in my heart it is a real blessing that the news was ‘only’ that he cannot continue to wrestle his senior year. It could have been so much worse.
 My blog is my Wilson.
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Sharing my thoughts "out loud."