To put my own spin on Jeff Foxworthy's famed phrase, "You Might Be a Military Spouse and Mommy if...you've ever driven yourself to the Emergency Room because your eyes are swelling shut and you refuse to have I.V. drugs because they take too long and would upset your husbands school schedule and your daughter's care.
Yep, you guessed it. My eyes continued to swell and since I have an allergy to latex, which makes it hard for me to breathe on occasion during a reaction, I decided that I needed to go to the Emergency Room. Here's where the real fun begins. I realized at 2:00 a.m. that my eyes weren't getting any better and that slowly they were getting worse. The next step might be breathing issues if I continued to stay at home and let it play out. So, I woke my husband up and told him that I was driving myself to the Emergency Room. No, don't freak out...it was my decision for him to stay behind and take care of our daughter. The hospital here in Monterey didn't permit any children under the age of 18 in the hospital due to the threat of the H1N1 virus so someone had to stay home with her. Besides, it was a quick 15 minute drive at 2am.
Once I got to the Emergency Room they quickly ushered me back to a room where I was examined carefully by a nurse while I waited for the doctor to come in. While I was waiting for the doctor the nurse wanted to start an I.V. on me. This is about a joke. I'm a hard stick and so those don't go in unless I or the doctor truly think that it's necessary. I politely asked him to hold off until the doctor came in, which he did with no problems once he saw my crapped out veins. Folks it's not hard to figure out, 34 surgeries plus other minor procedures = crappy veins. I've actually made nurses cry because they've had to stick me so many times.
Anyway, back to the story. When the doctor came into the room a few minutes later, he seemed to figure out what was going on. After examining me, it seemed to him that I was having an allergic reaction to something they used during surgery, but whatever that thing was would remain a mystery. He told me that he wanted them to start an I.V. so that he could give me a few different antihistamines to shock my system back to normal so to speak. During his examination he did figure something out that baffled me, but also gave me some relief. It seems that the annoying echo that I was hearing in my right ear after surgery was because my inner ear was swollen due to this reaction. He assured me that the meds would work and that the echo would disappear once the swelling went down.
Before he had the nurse start my I.V. he asked who would be taking me home. When I told him that I would be taking myself home, he looked at me funny and said, "well I hope that you have 6 hours to wait here AFTER the medicine goes in because that's how long you have to wait here to make sure that you're okay to drive." By this time it was 3 am and my husbands first class started at 8am and Caylee had to be at school by 8:30. Nope, I didn't have time for this. So I asked him what my other options were. He told me that he could prescribe medications in pill form for me to take, and that I could pick them up at the pharmacy and be on my way within the hour. Ding Ding Ding!!!! I'll take curtain #2.
On the way to the pharmacy, I contemplated how I had come to this decision. I had made the decision without any real thought at all to prolong my allergic reaction so that I could be home in time for my husband to go to school and for me to take my daughter to school as well. Not to make myself sound like a martyr or anything because I'm no where near that. I just think it's funny how the needs of military spouses and parents, some are one in the same go unnoticed. Then I realized that not only does my husband have to put his duties first, so do I. It was quite an eye opening experience for me.
That decision has played in the back of my mind each time that I have had to make a decision that will affect my family. It weighs heavy on my decisions and my train of thought. I think that when we marry our active duty spouses and become parents, we sign somewhat of a silent contract that states that we'll always put the needs of our spouses and children above our own. So, in closing, "You Might Be a Military Spouse and Mommy If" you look like someone punched you in the face and you ask yourself, Will my husband still be able to make it to class if I do this?"
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Dr. Blue Eyes
Oh hey there! Yep, you guessed it. I'm baaaccckkk! I realize that it has been one month since I last posted, but that's all going to change. Now that the worst of my surgery is over, I can now get back on track with my writing and blogging ventures. The last month has not been an easy one. It has presented several hurdles along the way. In the midst of those hurdles, I've learned a lot about myself, my family, my friends and well...to be honest, good ol' Dr. Blue Eyes has learned a lot about me too.
Let me back up a little to 3 weeks ago when I had my first hurdle. You see, 3 weeks ago I woke up with red, swollen, itchy eyes. As if this wasn't a big enough problem when I'm supposed to be getting up to drive my daughter to school. When I got up to inspect the problem, I also noticed lots of little red bumps all over my forehead. It looked like someone had punched me in the face. How in the heck was I going to take Caylee to school looking like this? Yeah, no worries my husband had to e-mail his professors and tell them all that he would be missing class on this particular day. Instead of sitting in class, he was Driving Miss Courtney (and Caylee). It was kind of nice for a change to be honest, but the conditions under which he was forced to do so were awful.
Throughout the day, I took Benadryl and kept ice on my eyes praying that the swelling would go down and that it was just a fluke, but no such luck. Later that night, as I was talking to my husband I noticed that he was looking at me funny. Okay, funnier than he usually looks at me. He then noticed that I had a red outline on every one of my incision sites. Are you kidding me? As if this nightmare wasn't bad enough already...now it looked like I totally lost a fight with Freddy Kruger. My incisions were all itchy, red and raised and my eyes looked like someone punched me in the face. You've got to be kidding me! The Benadryl wasn't even touching my symptoms.
At this point, I'll be honest, I freaked out a little. Okay, maybe I freaked out a lot. So I called the Neurosurgeon on call, which happened to be a nice gentleman by the name of Dr. Carver. When I told him what was happening he told me that it sounded like I was having what they call a silastic allergy. This meant that my body was reacting to the silicone tubing that they had just replaced. At this point, I thought that someone was playing a cruel joke on me. You've got to be kidding right? Dr. Carver continued asking me questions about the surgery that I had just endured and other medical history. When I told him that I had my last tubing for 30 years, the phone went silent. I thought the man had hung up on me. Come to find out, he was just in shock. Enough shock that after we ended our first conversation, he called me back 3 additional times to make sure that I was serious about how long I had my previous tubing. In the final call he told me that I needed to make a follow-up appointment for the following day with Dr. Blue Eyes. Okay, no problem.
The following day I called the office and was told to come in immediately. Once I got to the office they showed me back to my waiting room right away. I know, you have to be just as shocked as I was that I got in so quickly. To make a long story short, Dr. Blue Eyes came in to see me. He checked out my now only slightly swollen, red, itchy eyes and decided that I was not having a silastic allergy reaction as Dr. Carver had predicted, but that I was allergic to something that they used during surgery, to which we have no idea what that could be. He checked my incision sites and sent me on my way.
I was hoping that the worst was behind me. Clearly, I was wrong...dead wrong. I'll explain the rest in my next post so stay tuned.
Let me back up a little to 3 weeks ago when I had my first hurdle. You see, 3 weeks ago I woke up with red, swollen, itchy eyes. As if this wasn't a big enough problem when I'm supposed to be getting up to drive my daughter to school. When I got up to inspect the problem, I also noticed lots of little red bumps all over my forehead. It looked like someone had punched me in the face. How in the heck was I going to take Caylee to school looking like this? Yeah, no worries my husband had to e-mail his professors and tell them all that he would be missing class on this particular day. Instead of sitting in class, he was Driving Miss Courtney (and Caylee). It was kind of nice for a change to be honest, but the conditions under which he was forced to do so were awful.
Throughout the day, I took Benadryl and kept ice on my eyes praying that the swelling would go down and that it was just a fluke, but no such luck. Later that night, as I was talking to my husband I noticed that he was looking at me funny. Okay, funnier than he usually looks at me. He then noticed that I had a red outline on every one of my incision sites. Are you kidding me? As if this nightmare wasn't bad enough already...now it looked like I totally lost a fight with Freddy Kruger. My incisions were all itchy, red and raised and my eyes looked like someone punched me in the face. You've got to be kidding me! The Benadryl wasn't even touching my symptoms.
At this point, I'll be honest, I freaked out a little. Okay, maybe I freaked out a lot. So I called the Neurosurgeon on call, which happened to be a nice gentleman by the name of Dr. Carver. When I told him what was happening he told me that it sounded like I was having what they call a silastic allergy. This meant that my body was reacting to the silicone tubing that they had just replaced. At this point, I thought that someone was playing a cruel joke on me. You've got to be kidding right? Dr. Carver continued asking me questions about the surgery that I had just endured and other medical history. When I told him that I had my last tubing for 30 years, the phone went silent. I thought the man had hung up on me. Come to find out, he was just in shock. Enough shock that after we ended our first conversation, he called me back 3 additional times to make sure that I was serious about how long I had my previous tubing. In the final call he told me that I needed to make a follow-up appointment for the following day with Dr. Blue Eyes. Okay, no problem.
The following day I called the office and was told to come in immediately. Once I got to the office they showed me back to my waiting room right away. I know, you have to be just as shocked as I was that I got in so quickly. To make a long story short, Dr. Blue Eyes came in to see me. He checked out my now only slightly swollen, red, itchy eyes and decided that I was not having a silastic allergy reaction as Dr. Carver had predicted, but that I was allergic to something that they used during surgery, to which we have no idea what that could be. He checked my incision sites and sent me on my way.
I was hoping that the worst was behind me. Clearly, I was wrong...dead wrong. I'll explain the rest in my next post so stay tuned.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The Journey Continues
So, I guess you can tell that I'm back finish off my previous post about #34. When I woke up in the recovery room, a familiar voice greeted me as my eyes opened, it was Dr. Dimitrov. He quickly asked me about the state of my "haircut" and if it was to my liking. This brought the panic back, but as I lifted my hand to the right side of my head I realized that he had done the best he could to only shave what was necessary for him to complete the surgery.
Then he proceeded to tell me that there was a reason that I was feeling bad as my shunt tubing had disconnected at my collarbone and could have also been leaking in several other locations. He also informed me that everything went well, but that I would need another surgery in 5-7 years to completely replace the whole shunt system. Great...just what I didn't want to hear...another surgery would be in my future. Now come on folks, I'm not dillusional. I realize that my body isn't normal and that occasionally I have to take the time to let the surgeons do what they must in order to keep this machine running. I guess after #34 you could consider me vintage as I have had more surgeries than my tender age of 30. Nope, this time I awoke with 5 incisions and feeling like a mack truck hit me, but I was determined to make it out of the hospital in time to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family and friends.
Wait a minute...a new panick has just set in.... Did I really just consider myself vintage?
Now you see, I'm not much a medicine taker so my hospital stay was short lived. I got only the required antibiotics and then I was off to spend Thanksgiving with my amazing friends. This couldn't have been better. I even told myself that I was well enough to do Black Friday shopping. I decided to head to Michael's that evening with a few of my friends when I realized halfway through that this "vintage body" doesn't bounce back like it did when I was 19 (the last time I had a similar surgery). After that experience I decided that I was better off sleeping in on Friday and letting the mass chaos of shoppers go on without me. Don't worry though, I'll be back on my feet in time to be in the mix of mass chaos next year. :)
This all leads up to the past few days and the reason that I haven't updated my blog. The past several days have not been in any way pleasant for me. My body takes longer to heal than it used to. It's days like those that I wish I had my 19 year old body back. Well those aren't the only days I wish for that, but those are the days that I seem to wish for it most, right along with days that I wish for my pre-baby body back. :)
Today has been the best day for me so far, as I have not had any headaches or any weird feelings in general. I am able to type this post without seeing double and questioning my sanity all in the same post. We'll see how tomorrow pans out, but I'm guessing that it is going to be even better than today. Now, if only those cleaning fairies stopped by my house. That would make this whole journey complete.
Ahhh....one can dream.
Then he proceeded to tell me that there was a reason that I was feeling bad as my shunt tubing had disconnected at my collarbone and could have also been leaking in several other locations. He also informed me that everything went well, but that I would need another surgery in 5-7 years to completely replace the whole shunt system. Great...just what I didn't want to hear...another surgery would be in my future. Now come on folks, I'm not dillusional. I realize that my body isn't normal and that occasionally I have to take the time to let the surgeons do what they must in order to keep this machine running. I guess after #34 you could consider me vintage as I have had more surgeries than my tender age of 30. Nope, this time I awoke with 5 incisions and feeling like a mack truck hit me, but I was determined to make it out of the hospital in time to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family and friends.
Wait a minute...a new panick has just set in.... Did I really just consider myself vintage?
Now you see, I'm not much a medicine taker so my hospital stay was short lived. I got only the required antibiotics and then I was off to spend Thanksgiving with my amazing friends. This couldn't have been better. I even told myself that I was well enough to do Black Friday shopping. I decided to head to Michael's that evening with a few of my friends when I realized halfway through that this "vintage body" doesn't bounce back like it did when I was 19 (the last time I had a similar surgery). After that experience I decided that I was better off sleeping in on Friday and letting the mass chaos of shoppers go on without me. Don't worry though, I'll be back on my feet in time to be in the mix of mass chaos next year. :)
This all leads up to the past few days and the reason that I haven't updated my blog. The past several days have not been in any way pleasant for me. My body takes longer to heal than it used to. It's days like those that I wish I had my 19 year old body back. Well those aren't the only days I wish for that, but those are the days that I seem to wish for it most, right along with days that I wish for my pre-baby body back. :)
Today has been the best day for me so far, as I have not had any headaches or any weird feelings in general. I am able to type this post without seeing double and questioning my sanity all in the same post. We'll see how tomorrow pans out, but I'm guessing that it is going to be even better than today. Now, if only those cleaning fairies stopped by my house. That would make this whole journey complete.
Ahhh....one can dream.
#34
Hello! It's me again, you know your favorite Military Wife and Dis' Able Mom blogger. Like I said before, even if I'm not your favorite...lie to me. It makes for a much more pleasant exchange the next time we meet again in person. :)
So my last blog was on the 19th. I had planned on writing again the next day, but things got shoved into overdrive in my house with my impending surgery. I was going to write about how my emotions got the best of me again this time, but decided against it. I thought that writing about my emotional status due to my impending surgery (#34 for me) would make me seem more like a whiner and less like my super mom persona that I try to portray.
In hindsight, I now realize that writing about my emotional status of impending surgery #34 was exactly what I needed. It would have helped me to sort out my emotions and why I was so afraid to have these in particular. You see, after 34 surgeries I feel as though I should be an old pro at this and that fear has no place in this game for me, but this time was different. Nope, #34 (as I shall refer to it from now on), was different for me. It brought back the fear of the unknown for me. Number 34 was special in a sense that it was a surgery that in the past 30 years I had been fortunate enough to never have to have (since the initial surgery at birth at least).
For the first time in a long time, things were different when it came to #34. When I let myself stop and think about it, I had anxiety...serious anxiety. When I stopped to think about what made #34 different, it hit me like a ton of bricks...the difference was that now I had a husband and a little girl to think about. What if something had gone wrong? Would I still be around and able to take care of her? Would I be able to keep life as normal as possible for her if somethng would have gone wrong? And, then the worst question of all hit me; what if something went wrong, and I wasn't here at all?
This made me think about my own choices, and how #34 came about. For the past 3 1/2 years I have beeen battling with insurance and doctors alike to make me feel better. My hydracephalus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydracephalus) shunt had been stuck on scar tissue for so long that it was affecting my sleeping habits, which we all know can lead to a change in attitude, quality of life, and the commencement of daily activities. For those of you who have children, you know that this can't go on for long as our children are busy and stay that way. I had been told on several occasions that my shunt tubing was stuck on my collar bone, which was causing scar tissue to tear and pull every time the tubing got stuck. Not a pleasurable experience by any means.
Anyway, after 3 1/2 years I finally found an amazing doctor who was willing to get the job done. We scheduled surgery over the Thanksgiving weekend as that was his holiday to be on call and my husband's school schedule allowed him to be off during that time to help me with our daughter. (I had other help, but I'll elaborate on that in my next post as it deserves a post all to itself).
Wait a minute, this post is getting way too involved and informative....fast forward....
I was set to be at the hospital on Wednesday, November 25th @ 1pm for a surgery time of 3pm. The surgery that I had fought so hard for was finally going to happen, and feeling better was now within my sights. The night before, I was packing my bag when the fear suddenly hit me with a force that would have knocked me to my feet. For the first time in a long time, I was panicking about a surgery. This was new to me, and I in no way, shape or form liked the way it made me feel.
Wednesday morning when I woke up I felt panicky. I did as I was told though and had a clear liquid breakfast (broth and water...better known as prison food...not a clear liquid diet) thinking that I would soon let this panick feeling go. I would soon realize that what I was doing was best as I would feel better afterwards and life could get back to normal. James took Caylee to get something to eat before we were set to drop her off at the CDC. While he was gone, the hospital called me to see if we could be there early as the doctor was ahead of schedule. I quickly told her we would be there as soon as we could and hung up the phone.
As I dropped Caylee off at the CDC I had a hard time letting her go. I was terrified that if something were to happen to me that this would be the last time that I would ever see my little girl. That is not a thought that I would wish on my worst enemy, as it is a completely empty and dark feeling to have. I finally gave her a hug and kiss goodbye and walked back to the truck where James was awaiting my return. On the way to the hospital I had a hard time keeping the tears contained. They seemed to come no matter how hard I wished them away, and I remember praying for the first time in a long time. I prayed for God to see me through this and to watch over my family during my ordeal no matter how big or small it turned out to be. I prayed until the anesthesia worked its magic, and I was off to dreamland...
TO BE CONTINUED....
P.S. I should probably mention that before surgery I was also worried about the issue of my hair and the potential lack of hair that I could have when I woke up. So, to make sure that the doctors understood my worry, I posted a lable on the front of my hospital gown with this message.... "MY NAME IS NOT G.I. JANE!!! PLEASE DON'T SHAVE MY HEAD.
So my last blog was on the 19th. I had planned on writing again the next day, but things got shoved into overdrive in my house with my impending surgery. I was going to write about how my emotions got the best of me again this time, but decided against it. I thought that writing about my emotional status due to my impending surgery (#34 for me) would make me seem more like a whiner and less like my super mom persona that I try to portray.
In hindsight, I now realize that writing about my emotional status of impending surgery #34 was exactly what I needed. It would have helped me to sort out my emotions and why I was so afraid to have these in particular. You see, after 34 surgeries I feel as though I should be an old pro at this and that fear has no place in this game for me, but this time was different. Nope, #34 (as I shall refer to it from now on), was different for me. It brought back the fear of the unknown for me. Number 34 was special in a sense that it was a surgery that in the past 30 years I had been fortunate enough to never have to have (since the initial surgery at birth at least).
For the first time in a long time, things were different when it came to #34. When I let myself stop and think about it, I had anxiety...serious anxiety. When I stopped to think about what made #34 different, it hit me like a ton of bricks...the difference was that now I had a husband and a little girl to think about. What if something had gone wrong? Would I still be around and able to take care of her? Would I be able to keep life as normal as possible for her if somethng would have gone wrong? And, then the worst question of all hit me; what if something went wrong, and I wasn't here at all?
This made me think about my own choices, and how #34 came about. For the past 3 1/2 years I have beeen battling with insurance and doctors alike to make me feel better. My hydracephalus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydracephalus) shunt had been stuck on scar tissue for so long that it was affecting my sleeping habits, which we all know can lead to a change in attitude, quality of life, and the commencement of daily activities. For those of you who have children, you know that this can't go on for long as our children are busy and stay that way. I had been told on several occasions that my shunt tubing was stuck on my collar bone, which was causing scar tissue to tear and pull every time the tubing got stuck. Not a pleasurable experience by any means.
Anyway, after 3 1/2 years I finally found an amazing doctor who was willing to get the job done. We scheduled surgery over the Thanksgiving weekend as that was his holiday to be on call and my husband's school schedule allowed him to be off during that time to help me with our daughter. (I had other help, but I'll elaborate on that in my next post as it deserves a post all to itself).
Wait a minute, this post is getting way too involved and informative....fast forward....
I was set to be at the hospital on Wednesday, November 25th @ 1pm for a surgery time of 3pm. The surgery that I had fought so hard for was finally going to happen, and feeling better was now within my sights. The night before, I was packing my bag when the fear suddenly hit me with a force that would have knocked me to my feet. For the first time in a long time, I was panicking about a surgery. This was new to me, and I in no way, shape or form liked the way it made me feel.
Wednesday morning when I woke up I felt panicky. I did as I was told though and had a clear liquid breakfast (broth and water...better known as prison food...not a clear liquid diet) thinking that I would soon let this panick feeling go. I would soon realize that what I was doing was best as I would feel better afterwards and life could get back to normal. James took Caylee to get something to eat before we were set to drop her off at the CDC. While he was gone, the hospital called me to see if we could be there early as the doctor was ahead of schedule. I quickly told her we would be there as soon as we could and hung up the phone.
As I dropped Caylee off at the CDC I had a hard time letting her go. I was terrified that if something were to happen to me that this would be the last time that I would ever see my little girl. That is not a thought that I would wish on my worst enemy, as it is a completely empty and dark feeling to have. I finally gave her a hug and kiss goodbye and walked back to the truck where James was awaiting my return. On the way to the hospital I had a hard time keeping the tears contained. They seemed to come no matter how hard I wished them away, and I remember praying for the first time in a long time. I prayed for God to see me through this and to watch over my family during my ordeal no matter how big or small it turned out to be. I prayed until the anesthesia worked its magic, and I was off to dreamland...
TO BE CONTINUED....
P.S. I should probably mention that before surgery I was also worried about the issue of my hair and the potential lack of hair that I could have when I woke up. So, to make sure that the doctors understood my worry, I posted a lable on the front of my hospital gown with this message.... "MY NAME IS NOT G.I. JANE!!! PLEASE DON'T SHAVE MY HEAD.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
"I'll Help You If You Want Me Too Mommy! I Don't Mind."
Tonight I'm writing this post with a smile on my face and a flutter in my heart. Today I realized just how special my little girl is and just she understands her mommy's limitations. Here, let me start from the beginning so that you can get a better understanding of just how special my sweet little girl really is.
Today started out like any other Thursday, but it wasn't like any other day. Today was special. Today, Caylee had a Thanksgiving feast at school and parents were invited to attend. It was so much fun to see the kids sing songs and dance. It was somewhere between the singing and dancing and the dessert that one of the new students in Caylee's class said to her, "why does your mommy walk so funny?" My heart sank and my breath was caught in my lungs desperately planning its escape. Should I answer for her? What was she going to say? How were we going to handle this? I tried to speak up, but my mind was watching this in slow motion and my words were nowhere to be found. That's when my little girl looked at her friend and said, "God just made my mommy different. That's all!" And with that they began to play again, subject closed.
I couldn't have been prouder of her. She didn't even flinch. She knew exactly what she was going to say. So why then was I so worried about this exact moment? Maybe I was worried because I didn't want my little girl to have to answer these kind of questions. Maybe I was worried because I thought it would make her feel different than her peers. I now realized that this isn't something that I have to worry about right now. My amazing little girl knows how to handle herself.
When the festivities were over, we headed home to change our clothes and then we were off to the park to play with our preschool friends. Before I left the house, I went back in to get my camping chair since sitting on the ground is a little harder for me. Clearly, gravity is not my friend sometimes. Thus, making it hard for me to get off the ground with any kind of dignity left. So, to solve the problem I take my camping chair. When I put the car in park and opened the garage door, I looked behind me and told Caylee to sit still while mommy goes in the garage to get the chair. In that second she looked me in the eye with a big smile on her face and said, "don't worry mommy. I'll help you up from the ground, if you want me too. I don't mind." In that moment I was overcome with such gratitude and appreciate for my little girl. I was so proud of her. I kindly told her that it wasn't her job to help mommy get up from the ground and that sitting in my chair instead of the ground would be better.
On the way to the park, I asked Caylee how she feels when her friends ask her why her mommy walks funny. She didn't even think twice before she answered with, "I don't mind mommy. You're still my mommy no matter how you walk." The tears started to form in my eyes, and I was glad that she couldn't see me cry tears of happiness. For so long I have been worried about how my physical "dis' abilities" would affect my daughter's budding social life, but now I realize that there's nothing to be worried about...at least not for the time being." No, for now my little girl has it covered, and I couldn't be prouder of her.
So until we meet again, I'll be cuddling with my amazing little girl.
Today started out like any other Thursday, but it wasn't like any other day. Today was special. Today, Caylee had a Thanksgiving feast at school and parents were invited to attend. It was so much fun to see the kids sing songs and dance. It was somewhere between the singing and dancing and the dessert that one of the new students in Caylee's class said to her, "why does your mommy walk so funny?" My heart sank and my breath was caught in my lungs desperately planning its escape. Should I answer for her? What was she going to say? How were we going to handle this? I tried to speak up, but my mind was watching this in slow motion and my words were nowhere to be found. That's when my little girl looked at her friend and said, "God just made my mommy different. That's all!" And with that they began to play again, subject closed.
I couldn't have been prouder of her. She didn't even flinch. She knew exactly what she was going to say. So why then was I so worried about this exact moment? Maybe I was worried because I didn't want my little girl to have to answer these kind of questions. Maybe I was worried because I thought it would make her feel different than her peers. I now realized that this isn't something that I have to worry about right now. My amazing little girl knows how to handle herself.
When the festivities were over, we headed home to change our clothes and then we were off to the park to play with our preschool friends. Before I left the house, I went back in to get my camping chair since sitting on the ground is a little harder for me. Clearly, gravity is not my friend sometimes. Thus, making it hard for me to get off the ground with any kind of dignity left. So, to solve the problem I take my camping chair. When I put the car in park and opened the garage door, I looked behind me and told Caylee to sit still while mommy goes in the garage to get the chair. In that second she looked me in the eye with a big smile on her face and said, "don't worry mommy. I'll help you up from the ground, if you want me too. I don't mind." In that moment I was overcome with such gratitude and appreciate for my little girl. I was so proud of her. I kindly told her that it wasn't her job to help mommy get up from the ground and that sitting in my chair instead of the ground would be better.
On the way to the park, I asked Caylee how she feels when her friends ask her why her mommy walks funny. She didn't even think twice before she answered with, "I don't mind mommy. You're still my mommy no matter how you walk." The tears started to form in my eyes, and I was glad that she couldn't see me cry tears of happiness. For so long I have been worried about how my physical "dis' abilities" would affect my daughter's budding social life, but now I realize that there's nothing to be worried about...at least not for the time being." No, for now my little girl has it covered, and I couldn't be prouder of her.
So until we meet again, I'll be cuddling with my amazing little girl.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Commissaries, Children and Candles! Oh my!
Hi again! It's me your favorite blogger. Even if I'm not lie to me please. It's good for my ego. So I'm writing this post thinking about my hectic day and how quickly your day can go from such crap to simply amazing in such a short amount of time.
I started my day off by dropping Caylee off at preschool just like normal. Since we started the reward program 2 days ago, Caylee has miraculously remembered how she wrote her name by herself before and mornings are pretty much a breeze. That takes a load of frustration off of me...for now at least. We'll see if the reward program will keep her attention long enough or if she's only going along with it so that she can hold out for a bigger reward somewhere in the not so distant future. Let's hope this works for awhile, although the possibilities of hubby and I going broke raising her are pretty good odds these days. She's out little diva!
Fast forward about an hour. I've dropped Caylee off, and I'm now in the check-out at our local commissary. Notice I changed friendly to local as our commissary workers are anything but friendly. I'm in line and the cashier asks me if I want paper or plastic. Such a decision, but I think I'll go with plastic. His next question was whether or not I needed help out to my car with my groceries. I looked him right in the eye and said, "no thank you. Please just put the groceries in my cart, and I'll manage" in my most friendly voice.
Clearly he took that all wrong because the next thing I know, the bagger has all of my groceries loaded up in his niftly little cart ready to take them to my car for me. Any other time I would welcome this, but not at the Commissary. For those of you who aren't familiar with the workings of a government run / owned Commissary let me enlighten you. First of all, they pay cashiers to be there, but make the baggers work for tips. I don't have a problem tipping someone for helping me, but I don't feel as though I should be made to feel like a cheap ass for only giving a few bucks for their help. So I paid for my groceries and asked the cashier to kindly give me a $5 bill and 5, $1 bills so that I could tip my bagger. In my haste to catch the bagger who was now following someone else to their car with my groceries, I quickly grabbed the cash, thanked the cashier and ran out the door. When I got to my car, I quickly helped the bagger unload his nifty cart and proceeded to give him his tip when I noticed that the cashier had given me two, $5 bills. What the hell was I supposed to do now?
So I quickly thanked the bagger for his help, although I certainly didn't ask for it and hurried to the driver side of my car. I was going to pass on the tip this time and more than likely pay double if I ever received his help again. I was totally embarrassed by my lack of patience with the cashier in not making sure that I was given the correct change.
Well let me tell you, the embarrassment didn't last long. In fact, it quickly turned into anger, and lots of it as the bagger didn't walk away and accept the fact that I was not going to give him a tip today. Instead, he looked me straight in the eye, which is what I was trying to avoid in the first place and says, "what no tip for me?" I told him that the cashier hadn't given me the correct amount of change and that I was totally embarrassed about not being able to give him a tip. Afterall, no one in their right mind tips the bagger $5 for breaking your eggs and crushing your bread. He then looked at me and says, "you can just give me the $5 in your hand. That would be okay with me." I kind of chuckled, but soon realized that he was no where near kidding with me and was moving closer to me with every passing second. Finally, I gave in and gave him the $5 bill because I was getting nervous. After that, I quickly got in my car and drove away.
So I'll say it again, "I'm not responsible for paying the baggers at the Commissary. If the want a job that pays them well...go get one. Clearly working for the government is not so much working for them."
After my Commissary debacle, I decided that we needed a little break. So I picked Caylee up from school and we went to play at the park with the rest of her school friends. She had a blast as always, and I got to have adult conversation. Okay, I couldn't wait to tell my friends what had happened to me at the Commissary. That's pretty much what it boils down to. If Caylee got some exercise out of it too, well then that's great!
After a few hours at the park, we packed it up and went on home. I needed to get ready for my Scentsy show tonight and Caylee needed a nap...in a bad way. Okay, so did I. As we walked in the door from the park Caylee looks at me and says, "Mommy, sometimes I can secretly be a little naive." I looked at my child in amazement. I have NEVER said this to her, but I had to laugh a little as she didn't even know what it means. After my laugh (it sounded so cute coming out of her mouth) I started to think, who the hell thinks it's okay to tell my child this? What about childhood and her innocense. I'm not ready to throw her to the wolves in the real world (or my neighborhood) yet. This is one thing I'll be discussing with her teacher tomorrow.
I continued to get ready for my Scentsy show while I played what she said back and forth in my head. I still couldn't believe it. So I got myself ready and took Caylee next door to play with the neighbor until hubby could pick her up after class. When I got home, she greeted me with "Hi mommy! How was your Scentsy show? Did you make lots of money and smell lots of good candles? I hope you didn't have any naive customers." Tomorrow I think we'll be working on what the word naive means.
Until next time....
I started my day off by dropping Caylee off at preschool just like normal. Since we started the reward program 2 days ago, Caylee has miraculously remembered how she wrote her name by herself before and mornings are pretty much a breeze. That takes a load of frustration off of me...for now at least. We'll see if the reward program will keep her attention long enough or if she's only going along with it so that she can hold out for a bigger reward somewhere in the not so distant future. Let's hope this works for awhile, although the possibilities of hubby and I going broke raising her are pretty good odds these days. She's out little diva!
Fast forward about an hour. I've dropped Caylee off, and I'm now in the check-out at our local commissary. Notice I changed friendly to local as our commissary workers are anything but friendly. I'm in line and the cashier asks me if I want paper or plastic. Such a decision, but I think I'll go with plastic. His next question was whether or not I needed help out to my car with my groceries. I looked him right in the eye and said, "no thank you. Please just put the groceries in my cart, and I'll manage" in my most friendly voice.
Clearly he took that all wrong because the next thing I know, the bagger has all of my groceries loaded up in his niftly little cart ready to take them to my car for me. Any other time I would welcome this, but not at the Commissary. For those of you who aren't familiar with the workings of a government run / owned Commissary let me enlighten you. First of all, they pay cashiers to be there, but make the baggers work for tips. I don't have a problem tipping someone for helping me, but I don't feel as though I should be made to feel like a cheap ass for only giving a few bucks for their help. So I paid for my groceries and asked the cashier to kindly give me a $5 bill and 5, $1 bills so that I could tip my bagger. In my haste to catch the bagger who was now following someone else to their car with my groceries, I quickly grabbed the cash, thanked the cashier and ran out the door. When I got to my car, I quickly helped the bagger unload his nifty cart and proceeded to give him his tip when I noticed that the cashier had given me two, $5 bills. What the hell was I supposed to do now?
So I quickly thanked the bagger for his help, although I certainly didn't ask for it and hurried to the driver side of my car. I was going to pass on the tip this time and more than likely pay double if I ever received his help again. I was totally embarrassed by my lack of patience with the cashier in not making sure that I was given the correct change.
Well let me tell you, the embarrassment didn't last long. In fact, it quickly turned into anger, and lots of it as the bagger didn't walk away and accept the fact that I was not going to give him a tip today. Instead, he looked me straight in the eye, which is what I was trying to avoid in the first place and says, "what no tip for me?" I told him that the cashier hadn't given me the correct amount of change and that I was totally embarrassed about not being able to give him a tip. Afterall, no one in their right mind tips the bagger $5 for breaking your eggs and crushing your bread. He then looked at me and says, "you can just give me the $5 in your hand. That would be okay with me." I kind of chuckled, but soon realized that he was no where near kidding with me and was moving closer to me with every passing second. Finally, I gave in and gave him the $5 bill because I was getting nervous. After that, I quickly got in my car and drove away.
So I'll say it again, "I'm not responsible for paying the baggers at the Commissary. If the want a job that pays them well...go get one. Clearly working for the government is not so much working for them."
After my Commissary debacle, I decided that we needed a little break. So I picked Caylee up from school and we went to play at the park with the rest of her school friends. She had a blast as always, and I got to have adult conversation. Okay, I couldn't wait to tell my friends what had happened to me at the Commissary. That's pretty much what it boils down to. If Caylee got some exercise out of it too, well then that's great!
After a few hours at the park, we packed it up and went on home. I needed to get ready for my Scentsy show tonight and Caylee needed a nap...in a bad way. Okay, so did I. As we walked in the door from the park Caylee looks at me and says, "Mommy, sometimes I can secretly be a little naive." I looked at my child in amazement. I have NEVER said this to her, but I had to laugh a little as she didn't even know what it means. After my laugh (it sounded so cute coming out of her mouth) I started to think, who the hell thinks it's okay to tell my child this? What about childhood and her innocense. I'm not ready to throw her to the wolves in the real world (or my neighborhood) yet. This is one thing I'll be discussing with her teacher tomorrow.
I continued to get ready for my Scentsy show while I played what she said back and forth in my head. I still couldn't believe it. So I got myself ready and took Caylee next door to play with the neighbor until hubby could pick her up after class. When I got home, she greeted me with "Hi mommy! How was your Scentsy show? Did you make lots of money and smell lots of good candles? I hope you didn't have any naive customers." Tomorrow I think we'll be working on what the word naive means.
Until next time....
Monday, November 16, 2009
Reward Cards! Good Behavior! Oh my!
Yep, it's me I'm back. Are you glad to see me? Well even if you aren't take a load off and let me tell you about my day. As if you really wanted to know, but I'm telling you anyway.
Today, I dropped my daughter off at school in record time. Why you ask? Because today she woke up raring to go and in the best morning mood I've seen her in, in quite a while. So after we tackled the name writing task with gusto, I left her to entertain her preschool teacher. Actually, when I left, my child was teaching the teacher how to use chopsticks. I was cracking up, as I turned to leave and heard her say, "That's not how you do it...'Breathe Caylee Breathe.' " I couldn't get out of the room fast enough as I was in hysterics.
When I got home instead of relishing in the absolute silence that was my house, I decided to put together a reward chart for my sharp tongued little girl. It was actually a chance to see how much I could bribe her to do in order to get a small treat at the end of the week. It's not that my daughter has behavioral issues. It's just that well...she's a PRINCESS / DRAMA QUEEN to the hilt. She agonizes every day over what pair of shoes to wear with her outfit. Once she's picked out the perfect pair of shoes to wear then her day can go on as planned, but not until. She's a DIVA,what can I say.
Anyway, after I prepared the reward chart, I was so excited for her to see it and want to earn her stars. When I picked her up from school, her teacher seemed excited to tell me what a pleasure she had been today. I couldn't have been prouder. That is until I noticed that she got what her teacher's call a "Character Counts" card. This is a card that the teacher's can hand out to any of their students that they see following the rules, listening to directions, helping others, doing something extraordinary, etc. Oh, it's plastered to the fridge alright!!! Right next to her reward chart. What a concept!!!
So after day one she was only threatened twice to have her star taken off of her reward card for the day. All in all, I would consider that a successful day. We'll see what tomorrow brings. My sweet and loving child could wake up to be the spawn of satan and ruin it, but I'm crossing my feet, legs, arms and fingers that she stays just the way she is. I'm always looking for ways that we can get her involved more in our daily routine, but still make it fun for her. At four, everything has to be fun...doesn't it? So if any of you have ideas that you think have been successful then by all means please let me know.
Until next time....
Today, I dropped my daughter off at school in record time. Why you ask? Because today she woke up raring to go and in the best morning mood I've seen her in, in quite a while. So after we tackled the name writing task with gusto, I left her to entertain her preschool teacher. Actually, when I left, my child was teaching the teacher how to use chopsticks. I was cracking up, as I turned to leave and heard her say, "That's not how you do it...'Breathe Caylee Breathe.' " I couldn't get out of the room fast enough as I was in hysterics.
When I got home instead of relishing in the absolute silence that was my house, I decided to put together a reward chart for my sharp tongued little girl. It was actually a chance to see how much I could bribe her to do in order to get a small treat at the end of the week. It's not that my daughter has behavioral issues. It's just that well...she's a PRINCESS / DRAMA QUEEN to the hilt. She agonizes every day over what pair of shoes to wear with her outfit. Once she's picked out the perfect pair of shoes to wear then her day can go on as planned, but not until. She's a DIVA,what can I say.
Anyway, after I prepared the reward chart, I was so excited for her to see it and want to earn her stars. When I picked her up from school, her teacher seemed excited to tell me what a pleasure she had been today. I couldn't have been prouder. That is until I noticed that she got what her teacher's call a "Character Counts" card. This is a card that the teacher's can hand out to any of their students that they see following the rules, listening to directions, helping others, doing something extraordinary, etc. Oh, it's plastered to the fridge alright!!! Right next to her reward chart. What a concept!!!
So after day one she was only threatened twice to have her star taken off of her reward card for the day. All in all, I would consider that a successful day. We'll see what tomorrow brings. My sweet and loving child could wake up to be the spawn of satan and ruin it, but I'm crossing my feet, legs, arms and fingers that she stays just the way she is. I'm always looking for ways that we can get her involved more in our daily routine, but still make it fun for her. At four, everything has to be fun...doesn't it? So if any of you have ideas that you think have been successful then by all means please let me know.
Until next time....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
