Tag: Life as I know it

Life as I know it…

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Thoughts

This is totally random, and a terribly sad subject, but it’s just been on my mind this morning. So lucky you, dear readers.

I have read so many stories lately of babies lost far too soon – women having multiples where either one or more perishes before birth; singleton miscarriages; multiples being born and spending their first hours, days, months in the NICU only to lose one or more of their siblings before going home; multiples being born healthy and happy and having gone home, only to have to rush back to the ER some time later and not bring everyone back.

I cannot even imagine that pain.

And I think now, being a parent myself, it makes it seem so much more real. Not that I can put myself in those parents’ shoes by any means whatsoever. But just knowing how devastated I would be if we lost D, such stories from complete strangers often bring tears to my eyes. From the moment she was born she captured my entire heart and world in her tiny little body, and if something were to happen to her I don’t know how I would make it. So when I hear what all these families have had to go through, my heart breaks for them each and every time. Especially when the baby(ies) have been born and the parents have gotten to see and hold and know them, even if just for minutes, then to sit there and lose them knowing no more can be done to stop it. Whew – I’m choked up just thinking about it.

I mentioned this to someone earlier today, this unfortunate plethora of angel baby stories that I’ve encountered, and their response was that it’s nature’s way. Now they totally did not mean it in a disrespectful way at all, like well those people must have done something to make that happen. No, that certainly wasn’t the case. (because when i heard that response i, too, was like what!? are you serious?? no that’s not nature’s way!) They were just thinking of it more along the lines of how when animals have offspring they know when some are not going to make it and focus their efforts and attention on those that they know will instead of trying to save each and every one. (let me also mention that this person does not have children of their own, and even admitted that they’re sure they would view things differently if they did. but right now they just have pets, so that’s their frame of reference) I said well that’s true, but we as humans rarely birth like 7 children at once (save octomom, of course), and our 40 week gestation period is so long that by the time that baby(ies) comes out it already feels like it’s been a part of us for eternity. Don’t we have one of the longest gestation periods of all species except like whales and elephants? I don’t know – I didn’t Google that yet so I could be way off. But anyway. If something was wrong with one of my babies, you’d better be damn sure that I’d do absolutely everything possible to save him/her. That’s what doctors and hospitals are for.

So there you go. See, told you it was random. Just another one of those posts where I kind of dump my thoughts out to you. But if you’re reading, please say a prayer for all the angel babies and the families that are so desperately missing them every second of every day. I guess that was really my point. And as selfish as this may sound, I hope to never know that pain.

 

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Stye-clops and her barking seal

So first of all, Colorado was awesome. D did absolutely splendidly on the planes, much better than I even expected. On the flight out she was a little fussy and squirmy after we boarded, but drank almost 2 bottles of milk right away, was asleep before takeoff, and slept the entire flight. Coming home she was awake for takeoff but fell asleep shortly after then woke up probably about 3/4 of the way through the flight, but barely made a peep once she did wake up.

The wedding was amazingly beautiful, I could not be happier for my sister and new brother-in-law, and it was wonderful to spend time with family.

However…

I started getting a stye on my upper right eyelid on Wednesday of last week, the day we flew out there. Seriously? A stye? I thought only kids got those, since the only people I ever remember seeing with them were those in my grade and high school classes.

I’d never had one until then, and man was it a bitch. It made my whole eye socket area feel like I’d been punched, it felt like I had a piece of sand under my eyelid, and I had to wear my stupid glasses for 2 days. I hate wearing my glasses. Fortunately it cleared up enough by Friday to wear my contacts again, and by wedding day Saturday it was basically gone. Thank heavens! I read they can last up to a week or 2. Gross!

Also…

D got sick this weekend. Really sick.

She had the makings of a cold and a little bit of a cough before we left, but Saturday the full brunt of the illness hit her. Just in time to perform her flower girl duties, poor little thing. But, being the sweet little trooper she is, she didn’t let it stop her and was, what I believe to be, the cutest flower girl in the history of flower girls. She made it all the way down the aisle to me like a pro, with just a minor detour back to Daddy and a chat with a couple of the guests.

So anyway, I stayed home with her yesterday and got in to see her doctor because she just kept getting worse. Turns out she has croup and a double ear infection. Fabulous! I actually suspected the ear infections (i didn’t realize it’d be a double one again, i thought 1 would be plenty) because the first one she had came with the gagging cough, but I certainly didn’t expect croup.

I didn’t really even know what it was, but once I looked up the symptoms it sounded exactly like lil’ Miss D – harsh cough that can sound like a barking seal and comes with sharp intakes of breath. Bingo. She would take these hoarse, rasping breaths and then cough so hard she’d gag, often barf, and start crying. You could just hear how painful it was for her, and with all the barfing she really hasn’t eaten a meal since Friday.

So they gave her an oral dose of a 3-day steroid at the doctor’s office yesterday, then put her on amoxicillin again, which we started last night. They said she could go back to daycare today as long as her fever was gone, which it was this morning, but she was in no shape for school. Still coughing like a little seal and could barely keep her eyes open. So today’s another sick day for the babe.

I will have plenty of pics from the weekend soon, once I get them all uploaded, but here is a little teaser of our wedding travels.

The venue was unbelievably beautiful
D rehearsing on Friday night. How cute is this one??

 

 

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10 years ago today

Today is the 10 year anniversary of the tragedies that occurred on September 11, 2001, and I thought I’d share with you my journal entry from that time (which, as it happens, was my very first journal entry ever). I had just moved out to Jersey City, NJ, in July of that year to start working in Manhattan, so you can imagine what was going through my head after that day – I was 1,000 miles away from my friends and family, I was living alone in a huge new city, and then terror struck. To say I wanted to go home was an understatement. Fortunately I did, for a bit. The week after 9/11 I was able to drive back, since our office building in lower Manhattan was uninhabitable at that point – I made a brief pit stop at home in Peoria, then headed to Madison to spend 3 weeks with R. 3 glorious weeks. I was in heaven. But anyway, here was my take on that fateful day…

***

Written on October 25, 2001, at 12:30am (my current added notations are in italics)

 

OK, I’m finally starting to write this stuff down, b/c right now I feel like it’s the only way I can get everything out.

 

Continue reading “10 years ago today”

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Waxing nostalgic

I found this beautiful post the other day on BlogHer Moms and it almost brought me to tears. Not because I can relate to lemead’s summer camp experiences on Cape Cod, but because I, too, look back on my childhood summers with such aching fondness. The long days of play, hearing the cicadas and crickets on hot summer nights (i hate bugs, but that sound always takes me back), the hours my sisters and I would spend making up languages and forts and engaging in general make believe, the utter lack of responsibility save putting away toys at day’s end, and an overall age of blissful innocence that only children know.

My sisters and I never went to summer camp, but we did have Canada. And I wouldn’t swap those 2 for anything. When we were younger there were years when we were able to spend a good couple weeks up on the island, and it was pure heaven for us. For during those long stays we usually overlapped with my mom’s entire family, spending days and nights on end with our grandparents and all of our aunts, uncles, and cousins, some of whom we never saw except up there. We held countless diving contests off the dock, swam in and across the lake (but not through the seaweed, ew!), made treasure maps and turned the island into our own coded little world, read stacks of old comic books, set up tents and “camped” in various spots on the island, had water fights, made up songs, played endless games of cards and Scrabble and bingo, listened to old-time records every night at cocktail hour (one of my favorite traditions that still lives on), roasted bags of marshmallows and popped nightly bowls of popcorn, awoke each morning to the smell of bacon and a fire in the wood-burning stove in the kitchen, and fell asleep in the loft each night listening to the grown ups reminiscing about when they were our age and always trying to sneak peeks through the blankets over the railing hoping we wouldn’t get caught and forced back into bed. They were the best days of our lives, and the countdowns to the next summer’s trip usually began on the way home. I still get butterflies of excitement the night before each trip to Little Pine Isle.

Canada has always been a family place for us, though, unlike a summer camp full of outside friends. Not that others aren’t welcome, by any means. And some groups of family do take friends when they go, when there’s room enough without too many other family members already there at the same time. I think this is kind of what made it special for us, too. We bonded so strongly with our family when we were up there and loved spending that time with them. What could be more fun for kids than playing with their aunts and uncles who always gave in and let them get away with stuff that their parents never would? Granted, as we’ve all gotten older (and bigger) it is kind of nice when the island isn’t crammed full of people anymore, but as kids it was wonderful.

Much like lemead’s summer camp, our island is littered with these boundless memories and happy ghosts from our pasts. And now I am thrilled to be able to take D there and let her create her own lifetime of memories as well. She only has 1 cousin right now, but I know they’ll be joined by many more and will probably explore every nook and cranny and play every island game imaginable, just as we did. Now we will be the adults in the living room reminiscing each night while they try to put off sleep as long as possible up in the loft. And I hope she falls as deeply in love with the place as we have and makes boatloads of memories there with her own children and their children someday, too.

Me & my sisters in Canada ages ago
Crushing cans in Canada while rockin' a bikini. Awesome

 

p.s. totally unrelated, but i wanted to get my run stats from this week down. tuesday i ran 3.57 miles in 31:41 for a 8:51 pace, and last night i ran 2.86 miles in 24:04 for a 8:25 pace. my time from last night is only 4 seconds off my fastest time ever for that particular route, so i was pleased. both runs felt pretty awful, but i was very happy i got more than 1 in this week.

 

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The wonders of nature

When we were on vacation in Canada last month, I witnessed both the brutal and wondrous sides of nature. There was a little bird’s nest above the steps leading down from our boathouse to one of the docks, and when we arrived on the island there were 4 brand new, tiny baby Phoebes in it. A few mornings later, we opened the boathouse doors to find that the whole nest had been knocked down onto the steps, and the poor little babies were splayed all over the place. Unfortunately 1 of them did not make it, but the other 3 were amazingly still showing signs of life. So my sister M found a smallish cardboard box, put on some gloves, scooped up what remained of the nest, and fashioned a new little home for the surviving babies in that box. We put a rock in one end of it to weigh it down and placed it just off to the side of where it had fallen, in the hopes that the parents would come back and be able to see that there were still some of their offspring in there. Come on, Phoebes, your babies still need you!!

We watched that box from afar that entire day, hoping and pleading with the parents to come back and feed the youngsters in there, and lo and behold, they found it! We were absolutely thrilled. They were pretty tentative at first – like what in the world happened to our home? Where are our babies? Oh wait, they’re in this box now? Is this a trap? They would perch in the tree closest to the box and just hang out for a bit, singing their little Phoebe song, and then you’d hear the babies start peeping away. Feed us! Feed us!

Unfortunately, 1 of the 3 remaining babies perished within that first day. He was the worst-off of the trio, and M finally removed him and laid him in the garden area with the other one who didn’t survive. It was pretty clear that he wouldn’t live much longer even with the parents’ feeding, so we didn’t want them to reject the entire box nest if he was still in there. So those 2 received a nice little burial on the island, yet far enough away from the box to hopefully allow the other pair to thrive.

By the end of our stay, the Phoebes appeared to be a happy little family once again, even if reduced in members. The parents made regular trips into and out of the box, and you could see them removing the babies’ poop on their trips out, too. (i had no idea birds did this, the nest cleaning, but it makes sense. why would they want to sit in their poop all day?) It was so heart-warming to see how this little pocket of nature flourished in the face of tragedy, even if it was with a little help from us humans. The box babies would huddle together and peep when the parents were near, and it was the cutest thing ever to see them in there, heads tucked against each other, sheltering one another from whatever lie outside that box. They looked good when we left, so I sure hope they continued to grow and have maybe even moved into nests of their own by now. Or at least out of the box.

Baby Phoebes in their box nest

 

And another wonder of nature – human babies!! I finally met one of the 2 newest additions to our group of friends last night, Baby S, one of the most adorable little boys ever! It’s so fun that our kids will now have so many “automatic” friends with whom to grow up. I can just picture it now – the kids all corralled together playing while all us parents sit around with some drinks, most likely watching a Badgers, Brewers, or Packers game.

 

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Good deed?

Yesterday morning on my way to work I gave a homeless man some money. It was the first time I’d actually done so, even though I’ve seen numerous homeless people with signs asking for help over the years. And many of them I’ve seen on the same corner on which this man was standing with his small hand-written sign that read “HOMELESS PLEASE HELP GOD BLESS”.

Was I scammed? Was he really not homeless and just trying to get some extra money? Was he some sort of addict and turned right around to use my money to buy drugs or alcohol instead of a meal or other necessity? I don’t know. But what I do know is that every time I see a homeless person holding a sign asking for help and I drive right by, pretending I don’t see him to avoid actually catching his eye, I feel ashamed. For what if he really is homeless? What if he really does need help and will use whatever money he gets to find a meal or save enough for a shirt or a shower? What if he really has exhausted every other avenue and has finally been reduced to the humiliation of standing on a street corner with a small, unassuming sign, putting himself at the mercy of total strangers to spare some change or even a dollar? If those “what ifs” are true, then who am I to speed right past him, not even acknowledging that another human needs help, and deem him unworthy of my assistance?

So today I finally gave. Do I want a gold star for my generosity? No, I’m just telling an anecdote. I had seen this particular man once before, and I just felt like helping. I wanted to give him $5, but all I had was a $10 this morning, so I guess today was his lucky day.

And it may have really been his lucky day if he was, in fact, just out there scamming people and already had a boat-load of money and didn’t actually need to be standing there. He might have yelled “Sucker!” as I rolled up my window and drove away. But all I heard was his quiet, “Thank you,” and this time I wasn’t ashamed.

 

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Last of his tribe

Things like this amaze and fascinate me. The fact that there are still uncontacted tribes in the jungles and forests of the world. That there are still indigenous peoples living among us, on a planet that we generally think of as fully civilized. How awesome is that?

The “Last of his Tribe”

I can’t even imagine this man’s life. A single, solitary soul in his native jungle land, the lone survivor of his entire people. Fending off cattle ranchers that would gladly hunt him down, trying to grow food for subsistence while having to harvest it undercover so as not to be poached like the rest of his tribe. Having no one with whom to communicate, as the people documenting and trying to preserve his existence have no idea whatsoever of the language he speaks. And not even knowing that some of those strangers following him through the land are really trying to protect him, not kill him.

Could I survive as he does? Probably not. How does he do it? How does he find the strength to keep on in the face of the constant reminder that everyone he has ever known and loved is gone and he will never again find anyone like him? I don’t know that I could. Or does he even know that? Does he know that there is no one else like him out there? Or are there really more and we are the clueless ones? Maybe he’s a lot more cunning than we assume.

I would love to catch even a tiny first-hand glimpse into worlds like these. Worlds so entirely different from the one I’ve always known. Worlds so unique and astonishing that we will never be able to fully appreciate them from the comfort of our 4-walled, heated and air conditioned, fully wireless living rooms. Worlds that might make us really appreciate all that we do have and admire and respect those that have none of it yet are equally happy and well-off if not more so than we are. Worlds that force us to realize we aren’t the only ones living here, so stop trashing the place.

There’s much to learn from the Last Man. I hope we can.

 

p.s. another one of our friends had her baby boy early this morning! congratulations T, with baby S!!!

 

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