Sparks and Butterflies...

Well, my dad finally had the surgery on Saturday morning. The surgery went just fine. Everything took a little longer than normal, from the anesthesia to the surgery itself. But that’s just cause my father’s a big guy. He’s 6’1″ and about 300lbs. Former football player, and then a sheet metal worker. He’s big. Which means more anesthesia, more difficulty in turning him over (the surgery was in his back) that kind of thing. I suppose it would be difficult to do that, when the person in unconcious. He has about a 2 inch incision and 6 staples in his back. They will come out at the end of the month. He came home this morning. He has to walk with a walker until his legs regain strenth again. He hasn’t been able to really feel them for over a week now. He said his knees feel all rubbery, since he hadn’t been able to use them. He looks good, and while he’s pretty ginger with everything, I have a feeling he’ll be recovered in less time than he thinks. I think we’re going to have to remind him to take it easy to be honest.

But the main thing here is… He can walk.

I have been pretty annoyed today. Which got me started to thinking about pet peeves. I have a few.

Cold call solicitors. I can now get a credit card. This is wonderful news, and just goes to show you how much work I’ve been doing on our financial responsibilities. However, they call, they give you their schpiel (today’s was how I can get all these great deals at stores if I belong to my credit card’s club, for just $149 a year – oh, and they’ll up my limit by $150 so my limit won’t be effected by this “deal”). I usually tell these people that I can’t afford it thank-you-very-much. That’s when they go into this deal about how woe-is-them I’m losing out on such a wonderful offer. That’s about when I hang up. I understand that they’ve got to sell their stuff. However, what truly bothers me is when I say no, and I’m polite, they keep trying to push. I have to resort to being rude (and I consider hanging up on someone rude) to get them off of my phone. I resent that.

Turning without using your blinker. Or better yet, coasting over 4 lanes to cut you off in order to make that turn without using their blinker – then you look in your rearview mirror and see that there is no one behind you for miles and miles. They WANTED to cut you off.

Being tickled. Or being about to pee and my husband not stopping when I tell him to.

Don’t EVER steal my pillow.

Road rage. My husband has a problem with this. If someone is a dork, he gets this determined/maniacal look in his eye. I feel the car start to accelerate, and then next thing you know, we’re tailgating the offending party. These are some choice phrases I’ve heard out of my husband’s mouth when driving:

“Stick your nose out there, and I’ll WIPE IT!” – This is for those individuals who are pulling out of driveways, and stick their front end into the lane in order to determine it’s safe for them to pull into the lane.

“You have failed Jay’s school of Merging” – Self Explanatory.

“Let’s see what a butt-head looks like…. Now THAT is a butt-head” – When the offending party is no longer in front of us, and Jay has decided that he must see what this person looks like.

I won’t go into the 4 letter words… At least he has the decency to blush when he realizes that Joseph is in the car seat in the back.

Customer service in general. Doesn’t anyone know how to be polite anymore????? Doesn’t anyone realize that by the very essence of me giving money to them, they are now meant to serve me in whatever that capacity is? Perhaps it’s just making sure that my loot doesn’t make the alarm go woo-woo-woo. But can’t you do it with a smile, or perhaps a thank you? You are NOT doing me a favor. I am paying you. Get it? ARRRrrrggggg. So what do I do? I meekly say thank you and leave the establishment. When what I really want to do is give them a piece of my mind. But I’m too much of a wuss. Don’t get me wrong, I can be very accomodating in a good way. And if you insult me or mine to my face, you had better get out of my way. I will let you know what you can do with your insult. And I’ll let your manager know what you can do too. My husband, the former marine, knows just to get out of the way, and let me protect his honor. Otherwise he’ll get the toungue lashing instead. I’m not one to sit back and let my husband make things right when I have been blatantly wronged. But if you’re just plain old rude, or not exactly rude, but terribly disinterested, I’ll just act like a wuss. My mother however will reply to the person, “my, you really love your job” in this tone. If you know my mother, you know the tone. You don’t EVER want that tone turned on you. This embarasses me a lot. Still.

My what a tangent.

In other news, Joseph can almost say “cookie”. And he can almost say “all gone”. Jay thinks that one day he’s going to walk in and Joseph will simply say, “Why, good morning father, and how are you this fine day?”

I wouldn’t put it passed him.

Well, my dad was supposed to be operated on today. Micro Lumbar Discectomy. Surgery or remain in a wheelchair the rest of his life. They couldn’t do the durgery. His heartrate went up to 150 before the surgery. He had an anxiety attack. So. The cardiologist had him under observation all day today. And he’s got him on beta-blockers for all of tonight, and they’re going to try the surgery again tomorrow between 2 and 3pm. My father doesn’t have heart problems. As soon as he was taken to observation he was back in sinus rhythm right away. So, all of the doctors believe it to be nerves. I went and visited him with Joseph this afternoon. For someone in the hospital, he looks pretty good. He was completely annoyed with his oxygen mask, but that’s ’cause it got in the way of his talking to me and other guests. Joseph was good, and Dad enjoyed talking to him. Anyway, I haven’t been worried about him. I’m not really worried, except for one thing. Perhaps the surgery won’t work. What if that happens? But I’m really trying not to think that way at all. I’m trying not to think much at all. My dad is fed up. He just wants to get the darn thing over with.

Joseph is 15 months old today.

Jay went to a specialist about his bad knee. Apparently, when he bumped it, he bumped it with enough force to force a bruise onto the pocket of fluid around the kneecap. It should go away on it’s own, and he’s supposed baby it. He also got a shot of cortozone. Jay wasn’t thrilled with that part. But the good thing is that surgery will not be involved.

We have a bad situation here. A couple of days ago, my father was having pain in his legs, and trouble walking due to the pain. The muscle in his thigh was twitching so I could see it. He took some of my mother’s painkillers, which is something in and of itself. He’s a “man’s man” and rarely takes anything for pain. The next day, he could barely feel his legs at all, and fell. That was yesterday. So, my mother made him an appointment for the doctor. He fell at the doctor’s office, and hit his head to boot. The doctor decided that he needed to be admitted to the hospital. He had an MRI, and this morning we found out the diagnosis. He has two discs in his back that have degenerated. The doctors insist that surgery or a wheelchair are his options. The truth is, I’m not certain that he won’t choose a wheelchair. He’s that terrified of surgery. Anyway, my mom’s making sure he has all the information he needs to make a choice. He’s still in the hospital. I haven’t visited the hospital yet. I have Joseph, of course, and my mother insists that a baby doesn’t need to be around the germs that are in a hospital. I think that my father (who adores his grandson) might be cheered up by a visit. However my mom says that dad is in too much pain. He’s on morphine, and that’s not even taking care of all of it. He can barely talk on the phone.

Anyway, this, and all the added chores Jay has in my father’s absence, are pretty much overshadowing anything else right now.

My son has learned a couple of new things. He can now say “eye”. He knows that it’s on his face. HOwever, he also points to his nose, ear, and mouth, in addition to his eye. But he’s on the right track. He’s also learned the word “hi”. He knows what “hi” and “bye-bye” mean. So, everytime he sees you, even if it 2 seconds ago, he pipes up “hi!” And he won’t stop until you answer with an equally enthusiastic response. He is growing by leaps and bounds, and really getting the hang of this walking thing.

I went to my Uncle Rex’s yesterday with my parents and Joseph. He’s my great-great-great uncle, and therefore Joseph’s great-great-great-great uncle. In addition to that, due to the extreme dysfunction of my family, and Jay’s family, he’s got 2 sets of grandparents, a step-grandfather, 2 sets of great-grandparents, another great-grandfather, a step-great-grandmother, a great-great-grandmother. He also has a possibility of potentially having many many more, since neither Jay nor I know our biological fathers. Anyway, back to the visit. Uncle Rex doesn’t know who I am. But, he’s in and out of lucidity. He just turned 93 years old. He on Morphine patches for his pain, so he’s like that all the time. If he gets ticked off, he wheels his little motor chair to the bathroom and locks himself in, until he calms down. Joseph was good as gold, however, he was a pickle. He was all over the place. I was running after him. Uncle Rex wasn’t always aware of things, so sometimes, Joseph got close enough to his wheely cart to try and make it go. I don’t even want to think about him sending Uncle Rex careening in reverse. And of course Uncle Rex isn’t exactly careful with the thing. So, whenever he prepared to go somewhere, everyone went for the kids to get them out of the way. Personally, I think that Uncle Rex actually wants to hit someone. Thank goodness that my mother decided to leave MUCH sooner than they originally intended. I was exhausted, and Joseph didn’t have his nap, and I am just not very close to the family. I was very ready to go. It’s a shame that my Uncle is so far gone. He would be so much better off in a nursing home, where he has 24 hour care. But he has refused in his more lucid moments. However, there aren’t very many lucid moments. He’s on a high amount of morphine. He’s not mobile. And he doesn’t have 25 hour care. The man is 93 years old for goodness sake. He’s sick, he’s high, he can’t get anywhere. He has someone who takes care of him at night. And someone comes to clean his house, but that’s it. Something bad is going to happen, I can just feel it. His daughter, the main caretaker of his stuff (accounts, the people who clean, etc), just visits for token visits. They don’t even live in the area. To be honest, and this is really not a nice thing to say, but I doubt she wants to spend his estate on a nursing home. She is someone who will be very ready to take that money when he dies. And I’m sure that he will die soon. I know they’re having money troubles. I know she’s not well. I also know that she’s vindictive. But there’s nothing that I can do, that’s for sure. I hadn’t even seen the man in 10 years. It’s a sad situation.

Sometimes my husband can really annoy me. We were supposed to go to this fair and fireworks show at a nearby high school. He knew about this. He was excited about this. He wouldn’t get out of bed. I can’t tell you how annoying this is. He has to sleep during the day, ’cause he works nights. Fine. But he knew he was supposed to get up for this. It would be the 1st time that Joseph would have seen fireworks. It was supposed to be some family time, since he hasn’t had a day off in 2 weeks. Yadda Yadda Yadda. He wouldn’t get up. I’m not about to trek a stroller, child, blanket, and all the trappings that go with watching fireworks with a toddler all by myself. Besides, it wouldn’t have been the same.

I shouldn’t be upset about this. I really shouldn’t. But I am. He must have needed his sleep, but I’m upset just the same. Then, when he gets up, he wants to go watch fireworks somewhere else. Uh, not at 9pm, with Joseph still needing his bath, and bottle, and go to bed. I don’t think so. So, he acts all wounded. Whatever. I even made him dinner.

He’s done this before. When we were living with my in-laws, we planned a date night. It would be the first time for a date night in a month. It would literally be the first date night, alone, without Joseph, and without his parents there in a month. We were vastly looking forward to this. After I tried to wake him up for the 6th time I gave up. These kinds of things really hurt my feelings. They make me feel unimportant. They make me give his words less credence. I think I’ll stop trying to do anything anymore, that he will have to sleep for first. It’s just not worth it to me. I don’t need to feel these things.

It’s a little bit later now. I talked to Jay, and he understands how ticked I was. We’ve decided not plan anything in the future the entails him sleeping before, unless it’s a full 8 hours. I didn’t pull any punches either. Which is unusual for me. I’m one of those people who fights completely fair, and in addition, I’ll usually downplay what I really want to say a little bit in an attempt to not hurt the other person’s feelings. I didn’t do that his time. 4th of July comes once a year. It was a family event for our little family. And he blew it. I let him have it. It may sound trite, or petty, or like I’m not giving my husband enough leeway for sleep etc. But you know what? I do everything around here. I do all the cooking, cleaning, baby care, anything that happens inside this house happens because I do it. In exchange, Jay is the only one who works. I let him sleep when he wants, for as long as he wants. I have an incredibly screwy schedule, trying to accomodate him, on a night schedule, and Joseph on a day schedule, and me walking a line in between. Frankly, I think asking for one family outing on a day that happens once a year, with pyrotechnics in the air that would be beyond amazing for a 14 month old to see, is NOT too much to ask. So I talked it out with Jay. He agreed with me. We’ll just make a conscious effort not to put ourselves in this potentially disasterous situation again.

In other news… I have a great-great-uncle that will be turning 93 this Saturday. Uncle Rex hasn’t seen me in about 10 years. And I want him to meet Joseph. He’s going downhill… My father talked to him today. He mentioned that it was the 4th of July, and Uncle Rex thought it was July 4, 1918. My dad told him about going to Missouri to visit Aunt Opal (Uncle Rex’s sister-in-law) and Uncle Rex said in reply, “Good, thanks, why don’t you send a copy to me”. My dad’s reaction to that was, “huh?” Then, My dad talked to Max (Uncle Rex’s son), and it turns out that Uncle Rex called him and asked to speak to Era. Era was Rex’s wife… The one who died 20 years ago. Needless to say, he’s going downhill. WHich is understandable for a 93 year old man. He doesn’t have Alzheimers or anything like that. He’s just getting old (or is old), and I think all his memories are sort of fading together. That’s why I want him to meet Joseph. He has always had a particular affection for me. He wrote me letters when my parents didn’t even know where I was, during a bad time in my life. He will probably die before Joseph is old enough to have memories of him. But I want Rex to have some memories of Joseph. There’s just something about a small child, that makes people happy. It makes people remember their own kids. It makes people remember what it was like to be a child. It’ll make Rex happy.

Unless of course, Joseph bites him.