A Moment's Peace

I was sitting in the doctor's office today waiting, waiting, waiting to see him for a check up on my back. It was 30 minutes in the wait that I dug out my Christmas list and started going through it and thinking. It was quiet while I waited and I could breathe. I started thinking about how soon Christmas will be here and making lists of all that I have to do. Then my mind drifted off to Quinn and her class party (another to do list was made) and a little girl in there who has told Quinn she doesn't believe in Santa Claus. She told her that parents go out at night to buy presents for their kids. Quinn told her she was nuts because stores are not open at night! How silly! Anyways, I thought, what would I say to this girl if she challenged my belief in Santa?

Then my mind went to my childhood and waiting on the steps to the basement Christmas morning for my parents to wake up so we could go down and see if Santa came the night before. I wouldn't go down because I feared that of all the houses in the world, Santa would get tired and fall asleep on my couch, and he could still be there sleeping. That kid on the steps is still in me. I believe whole heartedly in the spirit of Santa and that is what I tell my own kids. So, if that little girl asks, that's what I'll tell her too.

This year, I fully expect to find Christmas under my tree, feverishly searching for gifts, and wrapped up in Christmas jammies. My four little elves will barely contain themselves racing me down the stairs to see if Santa came to visit them. It will be another notch in their childhood memories and another chapter in our family history. Christmas memories are the best kind, you know. How can you not believe in that? Santa's spirit will forever be a part of me and my kids.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

The Christmas Card

This task is one that should be fun. It's about reconnecting with loved ones and friends. It's about sharing news and pictures of your family. It's spreading Christmas one stamp at a time. This year, it's a little stressful. Writing the perfect Christmas letter with just the right about of newsy information about the family and a little humor is impossible this year. Don't get me wrong, we had a pretty good year. But, it wasn't overly eventful. Of course, if you re-read my blog from January on, you may disagree. I mean, it wasn't eventful in a Christmas letter kind of way.

We didn't move, we didn't have a kid, we didn't take a huge vacation, we kept our jobs (respectively and thankfully), we didn't get a new car. We pretty much maintained the status quo. This could be the shortest Christmas letter ever.

The art of the Christmas letter is one that takes crafting and patience. It takes editing and revising. I don't have that kind of time or energy this holiday season.

Wish me luck! I will probably just refer people to my blog and say, if you want to catch up on our life, here ya go! Is that terrible? Probably.

Merry Christmas!

Mom's Got the Gloves ON

Today was a crazy day. Quinn made her First Reconciliation this morning at 9:00 am and after months of worrying and a nervous breakdown last night, followed by a not so great night of sleep - she went in to the see the priest like a pro. I was so proud of her!

Then we went straight to her basketball game where she got the ball a couple times and made a shot - missed, but made a shot. Yeah!

We had lunch together, which was awesome and then I took Lydia and her to a Gingerbread House making party. We ran home and left for Practice Thanksgiving (long story) and got home around 9:30 am. 12 hours of running like crazy makes for a house that is a disaster.

But, that's not what this is about. Why is it when my kid doesn't get invited to a birthday party that it hurts my feelings? How old am I? I mean, she doesn't know she wasn't invited (yet). When her friends tell her about it tomorrow or later this week, she's going to be upset and I'm going to have to tell her - tell her what!? People are not what you expect them to be? Hey, listen, kid, people disappoint you, get used to it? Hey, sorry, but clicks are clicks and you're not in one! Why am I taking this personally? I don't know.

Maybe I've misunderstood the whole deal and if I have, I apologize. Any Mom would get their hackles up when they feel like their kid has been slighted, right? I am really trying to be a bigger person about this, which is why I am blogging and not blasting this on facebook or in an email. I know, I need to grow up.

Mocha & Me

I stupidly watched the movie Marley & Me today....geez, am I a glutton for punishment, or what? It hit sooo very close to home. My old black beauty of a canine was not the unruly terror that Marley was, but she was my first baby, my first love. She still is.

That day, the one every pet owner dreads, is so swiftly approaching our family and for me, it breaks my heart. In the movie, John Grogan, asks Marley to give him a sign when it's time so he doesn't have to make that awful decision by himself - but Marley didn't. How could he? He got sick.

Animals are man's best friend, because unlike people, they love you unconditionally with all your flaws. They befriend us, trust us, and love us. Letting go of that kind of bond will leave a hole in your life.

Tonight, I watched my friend struggle to get up because of arthritis in her hips and later try to scratch her ear with a paw that just didn't want to quite work for her. I got up to fill her bowl and let her out and what does she do? Wag her tail in anticipation of my attention as if no pain or discomfort existed.

You know, she was the one who comforted me when my heart was broke for the first time. She's the one I cried to when relatives passed and she was my first bedmate. She was my companion for 2 am feedings and bouts of illlness. She's in my wedding album the day I got married with a tulle bow tied regally around her neck. I actually made the photographer come to my home and take her picture with me and I'm so glad I did. She was beside me when I brought four kids into this world and she has always guarded them as her own, unselfishly.

The whole time I was watching that darned movie, I thought, I should turn this off. It's not going to end well. I mean, I had to quit reading the book because I knew it wasn't going to end well. It was like watching a train wreck.

I am hoping my train wreck is still a ways off, but everyday, I notice something new, something a little more pronounced in Mocha's gait or her behavior. Signals. But, then, she'll come to me, act like old times and I'll go on. We all do, putting that train wreck out of our minds another day. How did fourteen and a half years slip by so fast? The day I brought her home, my Mom and little brother had to actually pick her up from the APA because I had a job interview at Washington University (which I didn't get) and they picked me up with her in the car. My bundle of black fuzz who stole my heart in the kennel the minute she knawed on my overall buckles and laid on her back while I stroked her and fell asleep.

Damn movie.

Day 7 - post surgery

Getting around a little better. Bruising getting better and getting annoyed that I can't lift anything, but I'm behaving myself and managing. The twins and I have become imaginative in how to get them up and down from things. They also know that I can't chase them or make them go to time out - which means all manner of discipline has gone in the toilet. Such is life right now.

Day 3 - post surgery

Today, I'm definitely sore and the bruises are something to behold on my backside. I am feeling a little more comfortable, though, and the incision is itchy, so I'm hoping that means, it's healing.

I tapered off my pain meds a little today because every time I took one, an hour later, I'd be sleeping for three hours. I get tired quickly still and I know surgery takes it out of ya - I hate that about it. I'm trying to walk around and stay up a little more because I need to keep moving and building up strength.

I still napped today for two or more hours and will probably be in bed in 10 minutes. The annoying things are I can't bend over, I can't reach, I can't pick up anything. I can barely get dressed and I gained 6 pounds in a day from water retention (that part really blows!).

Carl is doing an amazing job of trying to keep up and even though it's an uphill battle around here, he's doing great! The kids are trying to pitch in - but they forget too. Thank goodness for awesome neighbors who've been helping with dinners and our parents who've been helping with everything under the sun too - I am gonna have a lot to repay when this is all said and done! I am so grateful! Thank you!

Surgery Day

Thursday morning my Dad picked me up in the rain at 6:15 am to go to the outpatient surgery center in Chesterfield. I was not looking forward to my day ahead, but I had little choice in the matter - I had to just get it done.

We got there, checked in, and the nurses took me back to "get ready". First things first - they hand me a very stylish pair of support stockings for my legs to put on under my hospital gown to prevent blood clots. I wasn't sure for a minute if I was going to be able to get them on because it required bending over, but somehow, I did it. Then came the I.V. insertion - which doesn't phase me really and the nurse was an exceptional stick. Kudos to her for that one!

My Dad was then called in to join me while I waited and he had fun watching my blood pressure and heart rate accelerate and slow down as I got more nervous. Apparently, I talk a lot when I get nervous, but it was that or throw up, so talking it was. The anesthesiologist came in and talked to us, the pharmacy dropped off the drugs for after the surgery/pain meds, and the surgeon came in to talk to me.

Finally, around 8:45 am, Carl got there after getting the kids ready and Quinn off to school. He gave me a kiss and I was on my way to surgery. They had just administered a wonderful kiddy cocktail of all kinds of feel good drugs and I was pretty relaxed.

They took me into surgery, I was in the hospital bed, someone was talking to me about the oxygen mask he was going to use and the doctor was talking about his son's make up soccer game that evening when the next thing I know I'm waking up in recovery two hours later.

My throat hurt from the intubation and my back was definitely uncomfortable, although dulled by a slew of medication that they injected just before closing me up. I took my time waking up and actually took a nap for a while. Then I had to drink something, eat something, sit up a while, and use the restroom before I could go home. We left around 2:40 pm and were home around 3:00 pm.

Surgery

Well after fighting to avoid surgery for six months, I am finally succumbing because I have no choice. I can't stand up, I can't sleep in my bed, I can't function, so it's time to do it. I have three herniated discs in my lower back that are invading my spinal canal. There's not much I can do except get it done, do as I'm told and recover with dilligence so that I don't have to do this again.

In that effort, I admit to needing a lot of help. I've set up a calendar at the below site for my friends and family to access and help. Mostly, it's very little time commitment, but it means the world to me. Thanks for all you do for me and my family.

Love,
Adrienne

To access Adrienne Vonder Haar's personal CareCalendar site,
visit http://www.carecalendar.org/logon/23426 and enter the following
information in the appropriate spaces:

CALENDAR ID : 23426
SECURITY CODE : 6637

Get A Heart

A friend of mine had a scare with her child this week and she was telling me that after it all worked out and the child is fine, she realized that nothing else matters in the scheme of things except that her little girl was okay. All the stress she'd been under at home and at work paled in comparison to the way she felt worrying about her daughter. She said she wished she had more time to really be thankful for what she did have in this world instead of worrying about what she didn't have or thought she didn't have.

She said that she wished she had more time to "give back" because she really felt like she had been given a gift in the outcome of this situation with her child and that doing something to show her gratitude for this felt like the right thing to do.

I agreed with her in that we don't take the time to sit and meditate on what is so RIGHT with our worlds and what is so WELL with our lives. We constantly dwell on what is UNDONE, what is WRONG, what is UNJUST or ILL. I often wonder how well equipped I am for tragedy, disease, heartache. I think the stronger your heart, the better you are prepared to deal with life's unexpected twists and turns. I don't mean that you have a good cardiovascular system (although that helps!), but that you've strengthened your heart by doing good, living well, treating people fair and loving a lot. Having a strong heart, having HEART - it matters.

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

Okay, so tonight - it all starts over again. I had hoped that promoting to another grade level would mean that Quinn's "anxiety" would improve. She gets so tired and then something happens and from there it's a downward spiral and our conversation ends up with me feeling like the worst Mom in the world. She lied about something this evening, I found out and grounded her tomorrow. Then she poked at her sister because she was mad at me and got grounded through the week. Then she starts with the, "I hate school!" tirade followed by "you hate me" and "you're so mean!" and "I'm not going to sleep!".

She says she is in an all boys line in gym all the time, she sits next to boys in music and always has to share the keyboard with a boy. She says she is having trouble on the playground finding her friends and they all want to play without her. She says she doesn't like her assigned lunch table and/or her assigned table in the classroom. One thing rolls into another until she's bawling and then says, "I hate second grade! I am not talking to the priest or making my First Communion!". AHHA! Anxiety from PSR tonight. They are starting to prepare for their First Reconciliation and part of that is going Face to Face with the priest. She's totally going to bail on this, and I don't blame her, really.

She then says, she has no one to talk to and won't tell me stuff because she's embarrassed (okay, red flag!). I'm like, what stuff? She says, nothing. I tell her you can tell me anything, I may get upset, but I'll always love you and I want to know about things that go on in her life. It's so HARD TO PARENT - nobody said this was in the job description!

She gets herself so worked up that I don't know if I should just put her to bed crying (which insinuates that I don't care) or lay with her and talk (which ends up escalating in topic until she's mad that the sky is blue practically). I always walk away going - I have no idea what I just did or if it was remotely effective. I also envision me in 10 years dealing with a depressed teenager and wondering what I should have done NOW to head that off at the pass. Is she just dramatic? Is she really just that sensitive? Is she in need of something, like counseling? I don't know!

It makes me so sad. She seems happy most of the time, but then episodes like this make me think there's more to it and I'm not giving her what she needs. She's been saying lately how she wishes she was an only child and that she liked it better before siblings. Is all of this just a cry for attention? I feel like I give her plenty, but maybe she needs something else? Parenting is such a blind leading the blind thing - I mean even the experts don't really know what the heck they're doing. Maybe I am the meanest Mom in the world. I guess I have that going for me.