New Midlife Mommy

I Double Dog Dare You

to top this rejection:

I invited my husband to join Facebook, and he sent me an e-mail saying "no thank you." 

My husband. Refused to join and friend me.

This is the same man who said that if I ever sent him a text message, he would cancel his cell phone service.  Not that he can get a text message, mind you, because his phone is huge, weighs about three pounds, has a telescoping plastic antenna, and looks as though it was transported here from the 80's.

Luddite.

TMI

Discussing financial issues with your father, and getting irritated that you are thrust into the role of adult sometimes (when you were perfectly comfortable in the role of kid, thank you)?  Not fun.

Giving up all of your personal free time for the week to go through your mother's things because she was a hoarder, with no end in sight over a year later?  Even less fun.

But finding a boatload of condom wrappers in your mother's old nightstand while your father watched you open the nondescript bags?  Not exactly priceless.

Still A Seahorse (And Other News)

DD has really enjoyed her swimming lessons.  She (uncharacteristically) doesn't moan, whine, or complain about going.  But, we have noticed that she's not as advanced as most of the other kids (the class has ranged from 4-6 kids on any given Saturday, most of whom seem just a bit older than her), though I get the feeling that these other kids have been learning for awhile.  DD is new to all of this stuff. 

Happily, we also noticed that there is at least one other child in the world who whines more than DD.  Last Saturday, her dad finally had enough.  Both her parents come to lessons.  They have a nine month old, and her daddy paddles around the pool with her during her swimming lesson.  He's around, and he's already wet, so he helps his older child out when she needs it.  But last Saturday, she was so obnoxious that she wouldn't do or try anything without daddy helping and without a lot of crying.  So, dad finally took her out of the pool, dried her off, got her dressed, and they went home (kudos, dad!  That's the only way they learn.)  But I digress.

We received DD's "report card" last Saturday.  She met most of the goals, but there were some things that she just hasn't been able to do.  For example, she is afraid to put her face into the water and blow bubbles.  So, they suggested that if we wish to continue, we should sign her up to be a "Seahorse" again.

You know, I honestly don't care.  I don't see it as a failure, and we are not in some sort of competition.  But I have to say, I really like DD's outlook on this whole thing.  Her approach?  "Mommy, I get to be a Seahorse again!  Yeah!"  So, yeah.  I salute her.  The only disappointment that I have is really selfish -- had she moved on to the next class, we could sleep in a half hour later!  Ah well.  Someday.

Moving on.  DH and I had two date nights last week.  Go us.  They had a parents night out at her school on Thursday, which I didn't pay attention to until the last minute, but they let us sign up anyway.  Honestly, there were only about five kids signed up.  I don't quite get that -- a night out?  With my husband?  At a restaurant?  Without paper place mats?  Sign me up!  I don't quite understand the other parents, though the fact that they do these on a work night makes them not quite as fun as they could be on a Friday, but I understand that it is hard to get people willing to watch the kids.  And, this Saturday, DD's godmother watched DD while we went out to dinner again, though that was preplanned.  Unfortunately, we had to cut that short, because we are trying to finalize our estate plan.  DD's godmother is her alternate guardian, and holds my health care power of attorney (after DH, of course).  So, we ended the evening talking about yucky adult stuff.

I would really love to give you some news about our donor cycle, but there isn't much.  We have paid the broker's fee ($1,000), the donor's fee ($4,000), and fees for many of the donor's lab tests, but they don't really keep us up to date.  I haven't even started Lupron yet, though I was supposed to start on 3/25.  Apparently, the donor (who normally has a 28 day cycle), had a late visit from Aunt Flo this month.  Go figure.  So, I was told to start a new pack of pills (active pills), without taking the inactive pills for a week.  So, I haven't seen Aunt Flo yet, but hopefully, the donor has.  We're still waiting for some news.  I should call the clinic and just ask, but it is difficult to make those calls at work, during the clinic's regular hours.  I've mentioned before that there is no audio privacy at work.  We are supposed to be moving to a new place soon, so I hope that changes.  I do miss having walls that go up to the ceiling.

My diet is going slowly, but it's going.  I've lost 12 pounds so far, at least as of the last time I weighed myself.  I'm not obsessive about it, and I cheat a lot.  I don't follow the Nutrisystem program at all on the weekends.  But, at least the scale is going in the right direction, and my clothes are getting loose.  So far, so good.

Last, but not least, we've been introduced to an uninvited guest in our home.  A couple of weeks ago, after DD had gone to bed, one of the cats came rushing into the den.  The next thing we heard was "squeak!  squeak!  squeak!"  Yes, you guessed correctly.  It was a f*cking mouse.  A mouse.  In my house!!!  The cat had it in her mouth, but she lost it.  It got away because she was doing what cats do -- catching it and letting it go.

You know, at first I was all "oh, let's catch it humanely and let it go."  And then I read about all the really bad things that you can catch from mice, for example, hanta virus.  After I read that, I changed my tune and bought some traps.  Quick and painless.  Oddly, we haven't seen any mouse droppings, and we haven't seen the mouse again either.  So, lazy people that we are, we haven't put out the traps.  I also bought a spray bottle and some bleach, because you are not even supposed to touch mouse droppings without spraying them with a bleach solution and letting it sit for five minutes (I did a lot of research after seeing that darned thing).  Hopefully, the cats, the mouse, and any of her friends have come to an understanding -- with the understanding being that they need to move somewhere else.

And, that's all the news.  That's fit to print, anyway.

Checking In

Wow, it's been a busy few days.  Last Friday, we went to our first concert in the park for the season.  We missed the very first one because DH wasn't feeling well.  This concert was kind of eclectic, with all different kinds of music.  DD really, really enjoyed it.  She went off onto the grass and started dancing alone, but when they asked people to come forward to dance in a conga line, she dragged me by the hand so that we could dance.  Well, actually I danced.  DD decided that she wanted me to carry her around and dance at the same time.  We sometimes call her "Miss 28 pounds," and quite honestly, she is getting a little big for all the carrying she would like us to do.  But it was fun anyway.

On Saturday, our handyman asked us to be his guests at a party.  The party was at a house on a lake, and a fireworks display was planned for later in the evening.  They had chocolate chip cookies and a trampoline in the backyard, so DD thought that she'd died and gone to heaven. 

She was very excited about the fireworks -- until they started.  Then, she buried her head in DH's shirt and wouldn't look up.  This went on for quite awhile, and no amount of encouragement worked.  It was really kind of miserable, because it was kind of cold and windy, and the main reason for being there -- so DD could enjoy her first fireworks -- made both of us kind of want to just throw in the towel and leave.  Finally, I asked DH to pass her over, and by some small miracle, I got her to look up at the fireworks.  She was completely enthralled and watched until the end.  After that, it was all she could talk about, so I guess it was a success.

On Sunday, we celebrated my nephew's birthday.  He's growing like a weed -- he turned 14 this month.  I simply cannot believe that he is growing up so fast.  It seems like yesterday that he was a little toddler in glasses (they looked cute on him, though he has outgrown them).  He's such a serious kid now.  He kind of reminds me of a future engineer.  DD really enjoyed playing with K, her seven year old cousin.  They went into the bedroom and played quietly.  It was very strange not to have to watch her.  I peeked in on them a couple of times, but they weren't getting into any trouble.  I could really get used to relaxing and enjoying the company of adults again.  I wonder if this is what it's like in families with two kids -- though I suppose that the downside would be the fighting.

Yesterday, we had a little 4th of July party for family and friends.  I've mentioned before that our street is on the parade route, and the 4th of July parade is about an hour long.  I don't think it was as good this year as in the past (only one marching band, and lots and lots of advertisements from local businesses).  They started the parade at the other end of town again, so I don't think that the kids got as much candy as they otherwise would have.  When the parade starts at the end of our street, my niece and nephews can fill up an entire plastic bag full of goodies.

But, it was OK.  After it was over, the kids couldn't wait to get into the pool, so we obliged.  Later on, it was hot dogs and hamburgers for all.  My parents were there, and I'm even more worried about my mother than I have been.  She had a hard time breathing, with very little exertion.  She used an inhaler, but I don't think that it helped much.  And, even though the day was sunny and the temperature around 85, she wore a fleece jacket that she kept zipped up.  She said that she was cold, and that she's often been cold since her bypass surgery in 2003.  She asked for a hot dog, and she only ate one bite of it.  That was all that I saw her eat all day -- from 9:15 in the morning until they left.  She did admit that she has been losing weight, so I wonder how often she actually is eating.  She's been 40-50 pounds overweight most of her adult life, and she's lost at least 20 pounds recently.

We all talked to her about going to the doctor, and she said that she had an appointment with her heart doctor next week on Tuesday.  She still hasn't made an appointment with a doctor specializing in asthma, and that was suggested to her months and months ago.  I don't know who prescribed the inhaler, but it was just a rescue inhaler, not an asthma treatment.

I truly don't know what to do about her.  My constant nagging has gotten nowhere.  My husband said that short of commandeering her schedule, taking her to all the doctors that she should see, and participating in all the appointments, there is nothing much more I can do.  I hate to sit there and watch her die.  I think she's being so silly.  A friend of mine also tried to talk with her yesterday.  Later, my friend said that she thought my mother was acting a bit like a martyr, but she also thought my she was scared to find out what the problem is. 

I guess I feel like things are what they are, and doctors might actually be able to help.  She's already got a fatal disease (non-alcoholic cirrhosis, and she is in the end stage), so how much worse can it get?  She often says, "when it's your time, it's your time."  But my response is that you can do things to hasten your time -- like stepping in front of a train.  I think that ignoring your health hastens the inevitable too.

My parents left around 3:00.  I called later on, and my dad told me that my mother had gone straight to bed.  She did get up later in the evening, and she said she was feeling better.  She did sound better.  She said her sinuses were bothering her, so maybe she's caught a little bug that made her feel under the weather, along with everything else.

My friend stayed until around 7:00.  She and her daughter were the last to leave.  Her daughter is seven years old, and she and DD got along really, really well.  They played well together, inside and outside.  Every time I checked on them, they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. 

After she left, we cleaned up a little and then left for another fireworks display.  DD had asked to see some more fireworks.  These fireworks were at a local park, which was really kid friendly.  DD played on some of the park equipment.  There were a lot of kids on the equipment, and I would have probably shied away from it if DH weren't there. But DD wanted to play, and DH kind of shadowed her.  I was worried that someone would push her off the upper levels, but it didn't happen.  And, since there were lots of small, spongy woodchips on the ground, I figured that she wouldn't get hurt if she had fallen.

I really enjoyed watching DD.  There were a number of things that she wanted to do, but she stayed back and watched for awhile before attempting them.  And, once she'd screwed up her courage, there was no stopping her.  I'm glad that she is the kind of person who knows what she wants and plans for it.  I hope that she keeps that up.

The fireworks display started around 10:00, and it was kind of damp and cold.  You could see the display from anywhere in the park, so we decided to spread our blanket out by our car (we'd parked on a very large soccer field, and the lanes were wide).  It probably wasn't the wisest choice, because there were cars leaving while the fireworks were going on.  Not only was it distracting, I think it was dangerous.  There were lots of people (and children) sitting on blankets by their cars.  I was kind of worried that someone would get hurt.  But, everyone was careful, so I guess it was OK.

DD was not scared at all this time.  But she'd had enough halfway through the display and wanted to leave.  I guess fireworks are so "yesterday" for her now.  We stayed until the end, and we were literally in our car within a minute after they stopped.  But it still took us a full hour to get out of the park.  I don't know where all the traffic came from.

Well, that's all for now.  I do have several topics that I want to write about, but this is the first time that I've had to sit down and actually type something out.  I took the day off today, and DD is taking her nap.  I think that I'm going to wake her up so we can go to the spray park.  I'm hoping that she'll like it.

Oh, one more thing.  Our big box of drugs arrived last week for the FET.  I start Lupron on Monday.  Good times, good times.

More Suckage

We just picked up my cat from the hospital today.  I checked her in on Friday morning.  It turns out that she still may have cancer (though the fact that she is still with us is a good sign), she has autoimmune disease which is causing a kind of anemia, and now she has been diagnosed with renal disease.  It was the latter illness that had her in the hospital for three days.  To the tune of $1400.  In addition to the $1079 that I spent a couple of weeks ago.  And $200 the week before that.  DH thinks it's a waste of money.  But DD and I don't quite see it that way, since K is a family member as far as we're concerned.

The thing that really ticked me off about this place, aside from the fact that they are outrageously expensive, is that they are kind of ivory tower veterinarians.  The regular vets bow to their expertise, since they have had additional training, but they overcharge for everything.  For example, I can get a bag of lactose ringers solution from a supply house for less than three dollars.  The ivory tower?  Charged me $62 for a bag of this solution.  I could nitpick the bill, but it would be boring.  Suffice it to say, there are numerous additional examples that I could give.  The bottom line is that I don't mind paying for expertise, but I do mind markups for things that have less to do with a person's education and more to do with doing something because you think you can get away with it.

The other thing that they did was give me a boatload of medications that I am supposed to give my cat.  Some are supposed to be given every eight hours.  Others are supposed to be given every twelve hours.  One of the doses is supposed to be repeated at midnight tonight.  And one of the medications was supposed to be given two hours before any other medication (it is supposed to coat her intestines to make the medications that she's taking less harsh or something).

Now, I do love my cat.  But I told the vet technician that I can medicate at three times -- 6:15, 6:00, and 10:30 -- when I get up, when I come home, and when I go to bed.  I will not be staying up until midnight tonight to give medication; she will get it before I go to bed.  And as for the medication that I would have to give two hours before anything else?  I didn't even take it with me.  I told the technician she could keep it, because in order to follow the dosing schedule, I would have to quit my job or hire a nurse, neither of which I'm going to do.  The medication that needs to be given three times a day, eight hours apart?  She will get it twice a day.  That's the best that I can do.

I think that regular vets are more sympathetic to what goes on in the real world.  They know that people can be both gainfully employed and still want to help their pet.  Personally, I think that these expensive vets could have given me something I could live more easily with, but then again, maybe not, and maybe I'm just p*ssed off about the whole thing.  And, I'm sure that the cat won't be very happy either.  Whenever she thinks I'm going to give her medication, she runs away from me.  Constant and excessive medication just makes her afraid of me.

So, even though I have to give the cat four medications in the morning, five when I get home (plus subcutaneous fluids), and then one more before I go to bed, she now has been diagnosed with a fatal disease.  I had a cat die of kidney failure while I was pregnant with DD.  It's an awful disease, and all I can do is try to prolong her life and keep things at a high quality level.  When she starts to fade, I will have to make a very hard decision. 

And I wonder what to tell DD.  She still talks about the last cat that I had to put down, as though she's still sick and just waiting for us in a hospital somewhere.  I've told her that the cat is in heaven, but she doesn't know what that is yet.  I don't want her to think that every time DH and I go to the doctor (or heaven forbid, if we have to go to the hospital) that we aren't going to come back.  And I know that kids can make those kinds of connections, despite our best intentions.

But for now, I am going to hold my kitty close.  And pet her a lot.  And sniff her fur.  And let her knead me with her paws, even though I really don't like that very much.  And we are going to take it one day at a time.

My Other Little Girl

I've mentioned that my first baby, the one who predates DD by many, many years, has been sick lately.  She is a lovely seal point Siamese cat.  She lost weight and started hiding, so I took her in to see the veterinarian.  Well, $200 later, I received an "I don't know" and a referral to a fancy veterinarian service.  They are located in a upscale neighborhood, and they charge upscale prices.

We did a second general blood panel, special blood tests, X-rays, and an ultrasound ($1,079 more).  The choices are:  lymphoma, multiple myeloma, or autoimmune disease.  Not good choices, but the last choice is the best because it's treatable with steroids.  Apparently, the doctor found damaged cells in the blood test, high protein levels, and anemia.  These are indicative of cancer.  The X-rays and ultrasound were negative for cancer.  She also found a strong positive for autoimmune disease on one of the blood tests.  The vet thinks that there is a 75% chance of cancer, and a 25% chance of autoimmune disease. 

The vet wanted to do a bone marrow test, for an additional $5-600.  Now, I don't really flinch at the cost, even though it does take a bite out of my credit card.  The problem for me is that it would cause her pain, the general anesthesia could send her into kidney failure, and if the test were positive?  Well, she will die in a few weeks without treatment, and in four to twelve months with treatment.  "Treatment" means chemotherapy, which will make her sick, just like it makes people sick.  Which means anti-nausea drugs among other things.  She will not be cured. 

It makes me all wonder.  For whom would I be doing all this?  For her?  Or for me?  When is enough enough?  I love this cat, and I have given her a good life for 16 years.  She is so sweet, and so kind, and so good with DD.  I don't want to let her go.  But I know that I will have to do that someday soon.

I've decided to treat her for the autoimmune disease.  That means steroids for the rest of her life.  She also receives a stool softener (also I guess for the rest of her life), and she is on a course of antibiotics (fortunately, temporary).  She receives the liquid stool softener three times a day, and the liquid antibiotics and steroids two times a day.  She's not wild about all of this, believe me.

I think that I've made the right choice, but it is very hard.  I wonder what would she want, if she could weigh in on this.  And I keep prepping DD for the loss that will come sometime in the future, if not from cancer, from age.

I haven't won the lottery yet, and I usually leave the casino with less money than when I came in.  But this time, I'm asking for the odds to be on my side.  My prayers, and my heart, can only hope.

Here's Hoping For The Lesser Of Two Evils

As you know, I lost one of my cats a few months ago.  DD remembers her, and she says that she likes her very much, still in the present tense.  I tell her that "I" is in heaven, but of course, DD doesn't really understand.  She does remember that "I" was very sick, that she went to the doctor, and that she didn't come home one day.

Now, my sweet little "K" is ill.  We're still not sure if it is cancer (multiple myeloma, AKA bone cancer, I think) or an autoimmune problem.  I'm obviously hoping for the latter, because it is treatable with steroids.  If it's cancer, she has only six to twelve months with chemotherapy.  Because I wouldn't subject her to that, that would leave her only a matter of weeks before we have to say good-bye.

Last night, not knowing if I would have to put K to sleep today or not, I tried to prepare DD.  I told her that K was very sick, and that I had to take her to the doctor today.  I asked if she understood, and she said "yes mommy, like I.  K go to heaven."

Out of the mouths of babes.  I hope that she's wrong.  I'm just not ready to let go of my little friend.

Can You Say "Jerk"?

Sheesh.  I e-mailed my little brother to wish him a happy birthday.  Acutally, the subject line of the e-mail said "Happy Birthday."  The body of the message said, "Hope it's a good one."

Did I get a thank you back?  Nope.  The message that I got back said something like, "There are no good birthdays after 39.  You are getting older faster than I am.  And you still have to change diapers."

Needless to say, I was a trifle offended.  I sent an e-mail back that said, "Gosh, you are an a**hole." 

Think I overreacted?  I think that he thought I did.  I received a response back that said "Love you too."  Oh well, no good deed goes unpunished, I guess.  Next year, I'll just ignore him.

Happy Grandparents Day

Today was grandparents day at my daughter's daycare.  They had punch, small sandwiches, and potato chips in the lobby.  But the best part was that the grandparents could just hang out in the classrooms with the kids.

My parents are always late for everything.  I've gotten to the point where I have absolutely NO patience with it (since it has been going on my whole freaking life -- but that is another story -- or stories).  It is almost always my mother's fault.  She just doesn't give herself enough time, and then she blames everyone else for her being late.  That's probably what ticks me off more than anything. 

This time, they swear that they were in the general vicinity of the daycare about 45 minutes early.  But they weren't there when DH and I arrived.  Oddly, we were the only parents who came, but since my parents are getting close to 80 and get confused pretty easily, I thought it best that at least one of us be there.  DH came, but under duress.  He claims that he felt I would be angry with him if he didn't come.  But I took the vacation hours from work to do it; if he didn't want to come, he didn't have to be there.  And he could have left early, but again, he thought that I would have been mad if he'd left.  I don't know how I telegraph these evil things, but he swears that I do.  I guess I will have to work on that.

Anyway.  It turns out that my father wrote the directions down incorrectly, which is why they got lost.  Fortunately, they have my old cell phone (which they think is a "car phone" that must be kept in the car for some strange reason).  We were able to call them and talk them in.  As it turned out, it didn't matter that they were late because there weren't any particular festivities.  Everyone just hung out, played with the kids, and ate cookies.

DD loved being there with her grandparents.  They'd made little certificates for each of them.  The kids just scribbled on them, but I imagine in their eyes, it was a great picture.  Of what, we'll never know, but it was sweet just the same (as is all of DD's artwork, at least to me). 

After hanging out for awhile, we went up front to grab a bite to eat, and then we went outside with all the kids on the playground.  I turned away for a small moment, and the next thing I knew, DD was crying.  I thought that she was upset because she wanted a truck that another child was playing with.  It turns out that this other child had swiped the toy from DD and started playing with it, according to DH.

Am I a terrible mommy or what?  I just assumed that my daughter was the aggressor, because I'd seen her take things away from other children before.  For some reason, the teachers don't seem to spend a lot of time on sharing and treating each other with respect.  Or maybe they do, but when you have four kids each to watch at this age, it may be that it is just too difficult to catch it all the time.  Of course, DD made me feel guilty during the ride home, because she kept saying, "take my toy.  My turn.  Take my toy." 

I did apologize to her for assuming that she was the one in the wrong.  And I did try to empathize with her, telling her that I understood that she wasn't treated well, that it was her turn, that the little boy took her toy when it was her turn, and that it wasn't nice.  Fortunately, she seemed to forget about it when we got home.

But I didn't.  And I still feel bad for not giving my kid the benefit of the doubt.  I guess that's another thing that I need to work on.