New Adventures for 2015

2015 is a new year.  Which means that we can ignore how little blogging I did in 2014 and start fresh.  I really WANT to do more blogging this year, like at least once a week.  Why?  Because I really want to write more, in general.  I'm not saying I'm the world's greatest writer-I'm not-but I'm not terrible either.  The more I write, the easier it becomes, the easier it becomes, the better I get.  Well in theory anyway.  A theory that I really need to put to the test.

With that said, I'm going to blog.

So, as you may or may not know, we have a Golden Retriever.  The dog and I have a love-hate relationship.  It is mostly hate, on both sides, but after nearly 11 years together, we've learned to tolerate each other.  On Friday, I had the pleasure of bringing him to the vet for blood work.  After boosting him in the car (he's a very old man) we made a slip-slidey trek to our vet.  Upon opening the car door I discovered he had no intent on getting out of the car.  Begging, pleading and bribing did not work, so I braced myself and hauled him out of the car.  It wasn't pretty, but he made it out. When we walked in the new lady at the desk asked me to get him to stand on the scale.  While this was a once easy feat, it has been complicated now by the fact that the dog does not like to step on weird feeling surfaces, like the scale, because he's afraid he's going to fall.  After a few minutes of bribing I got him on there.  For a second.  The lady behind the desk did not have much patience for us and said she got his weight.  Since it was a good 10 pounds more than usual I have a feeling she may have fudged the numbers a bit.  Anyway, she took him out back for his blood test while I waited.

Moments later she was back and (fortunately) the dog had behaved himself.  The desk lady gave me a bit of a scowl as she whipped out a lint roller "He's very hairy."

He's a golden retriever.  

"Uh, yeah," I said, "he's pretty hairy."

I paid my bill and left quickly.  As I mentioned, the dog and I have a relationship based mostly on hate.  So while I begged and pleaded with him to jump quickly back in the car, he ignored me and pooped in the parking lot.  And this was not just a poop.  This was an epic poop.  A walking poop that he had clearly been holding for DAYS in anticipation of ruining our trip to the vet.  It wasn't pretty.  And it was in the middle of the damn parking lot.

So, with another heft, I loaded the dog back up into the car. The car for the first time ever, was completely void of grocery bags.  So back into the office I trudged to ask for a poop bag.

The lady scowls at me.

"Hi, my dog pooped in the parking lot, do you have a bag or something I could use to clean it up?  Like a grocery bag or something?"

She sighs and climbs off her seat and offers me a poop bag.

A poop bag the size of a sandwich bag.  Clearly made for chihuahua poop.

I look at the bag.

I look at her.

She frowns.

I look at the bag.

I look at her scowl.

"Thank you!" I said cheerily as I took the sandwich bag from her.

Epic poop.  Sandwich bag.

Needless to say it was a fairly gross endeavor, but damn if I didn't get it all in that miniature chihuahua poo bag.  

There was not an outside trashcan.  And I was NOT going back in with a sack full-FULL-of poo.

It was a rather smelly ride home, which I'm fairly certain the dog enjoyed thoroughly.

**I actually have the best vet's office in the world and they have been nothing but wonderful to me and my pets.  I'm sure I will be able to say the same about this new desk person after we have had a few more interactions.

A New Reality

It has been a beautiful summer.  Perhaps not as hot as it could have been, I for one like to stockpile the feeling of the sun on my skin for the cold winter months when I can't remember what it feels like not to have goosebumps, but a pretty summer nonetheless.  We've made a bunch of trips to the island, spent plenty of weekends relaxing at home, and have tried to make the most of the summer.  I even started a bit of creative writing, which made me surprisingly happy.  I won't say that what I was writing was all that great, but I'm fairly confident it didn't suck, and that's something!  I was interrupted from my writing by an onslaught of bookkeeping duties and just when those were letting up again I've been consumed with something entirely different: figuring out how to keep my kid healthy.

About a month ago Ben starting having some stomach troubles.  It didn't seem severe, he wasn't in a lot of pain, didn't complain that much, but spent an increasingly larger amount of time on the toilet every day.  After force feeding him bananas, probiotics and even cutting dairy out of his diet, we went to see the doctor for some help.  Last Friday we found out that Ben tested positive for Celiac Disease.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.  I still am to be honest.  And as I've researched and read about Celiac my surprise has gone from frustration to horror to sadness to determination.  I've known, sort of, what celiac is since I was just out of high school.  I've actually been tested for it several times, but I don't have it.  I knew that it was essentially an allergy to gluten, something that I, a die hard fan of all things bread related, couldn't possibly comprehend having.  So when I was told Ben has celiac I was not really sure what we were talking about.  Did he actually have celiac, or was it a gluten sensitivity?  Was it something he could outgrow?  Could he still eat small amounts of gluten or did it have to be eliminated entirely?

Our pediatrician was less than helpful, telling us only to stop feeding him gluten.  Fortunately I have good friends and a knowledgeable family who was able to point us in the right direction.  We're getting him a referral to a GI doctor to confirm the test results and hopefully help us figure out how to adopt a gluten free lifestyle.  I've done some reading and realized that celiac is not the same as a gluten sensitivity.  While we all know someone right now that has cut gluten out of their diet, they don't necessarily have celiac disease.  Gluten sensitivities also make people feel pretty crappy so cutting gluten out of their diet makes them feel better.  Celiac disease, however, is an autoimmune disease.  Instead of gluten just making my kid feel crappy, his body actually starts attacking itself causing damage to his intestines.  Obviously, damaging your intestines really isn't a good idea, so the gluten has got to go.  The more I read, the more I discover just how difficult this is to do.  Gluten is in EVERYTHING.  And even if it isn't in it, there's a good chance it's been around gluten.  And, as I've been reading, the longer you stop eating gluten, the more sensitive you can become to exposure to gluten.  Any exposure.  It's mind boggling really.  Depending on how sensitive he is to gluten, we may have to eventually get all gluten out of the house all together, meaning none of us can eat gluten around Ben.

This is NOT what I expected when I took him to the doctors last week to figure out why his stomach was bothering him.  But this is our new reality.  I will be packing his lunches now for the rest of his childhood.  I will be bringing all his food with us when we travel.  When he goes to school he will likely be grouped with the other allergy kids to keep him healthy.  When he goes to friends' houses and birthday parties I will be bringing his food.  I will be that mom.  The one that makes their kid was their hands a zillion times day, feeding him weird things like raw almonds and bread-less sandwiches.  The one that makes him eat granola bars instead of cupcakes and macaroni and cheese that tastes like cardboard.

It really sucks, and it's still very overwhelming.  I know that things could have been worse, much worse.  Celiac disease isn't a death sentence, it isn't something that's going to noticeably affect how he grows and develops.  It is going to change him though and it's not something that he'll ever outgrow or stop being aware of.  There will probably be times when it makes him really sick.  But he will get better and he will learn how to live with it.  And so will I.  I will embrace being that mom.  I will be the best that mom that you've ever seen.  Because my kid is awesome and he WILL be healthy.

Perfection

Today was about as perfect as it gets.  Morning chores indoors, while the air was still a little chilly, and the rest of the day spent outside in the sun.  Perfection.  Ben and I finished planting veggies in the garden, planted some Lily of the Valley in the yard and set up our white-trash patio.  (White trash patio consisting of a beat up picnic table, four decent looking lawn chairs and the grill all artistically arranged in our driveway.  Classy, I know.)  When that was finished we filled the pool.  And of course I'm talking about a kidding wading pool because we obviously aren't classy enough for any other sort.  Ben and his Ninja Turtles has a blast fighting off bad guys in the high seas.  We spent time on the swings, the trampoline and playing Care Bear hide-and-seek.  (Don't ask.  I played Care Bear hide-and-seek and I still can't even tell you what it was.)  We ended the day with hot dogs and turkey burgers on the grill and a few sparklers.  While I won't say that days like today make the long freezing cold winter worth it, I will say that it makes me appreciate the beautiful days more.

Yay for summertime!

School Break!

I made it.  School is finished for the summer.  This was without question one of the most challenging semesters I can remember.  Governmental Accounting was actually less interesting than it sounds, if you can possibly imagine, and the math class I thought would be fairly easy turned out to be a hellish nightmare of "math" that I'm fairly certain is only ever used and practiced in this particular math class.  Example from one of my homework assignments:  "If Christmas is on December 6th, then 8 is an even number."  True or False.  Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.  That's not math.  That's just Hell.

With that said, I still managed to do well in all three classes, but I need a break.

So what do I do when I need a break?  I read.  And what do I read when my favorite author is publishing a new addition to my favorite series?  I read the whole damn series AGAIN because I have a very serious problem.  This is (I think) my fifth time reading Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series from start to finish.  I think there are probably about 6,000+/- pages since each book averages near 1000 pages and there are seven of them.  Not including the series of "short stories" that accompany them, which I likely won't read unless I have time before the June 10th publication date.  I had thought I would just read the first book in the series and then the last book in the series.  But, like I said, I have a very serious problem and I find myself nearly halfway through the third book with no signs of stopping.  Fortunately, my son has become obsessed with Legos and can sit happily for a good hour or so building castles and houses and playing with the little Lego figures.  This makes me feel considerably less guilty about ignoring him while I indulge myself in complete and utter escapism.  Ahhhh, the powers of a good book.

Once I finish the series, and the new release out in a few weeks (and yes, I'm actually contemplating taking a personal day on the release date to I can try to inhale the new book as fast as humanly possible...I have a VERY serious problem), I have quite a few summer projects to tackle.  Mainly, painting the trim around the new windows, which I have managed to put off since November, and cleaning, which I have managed to put off since...well...let's just say it's pretty dusty in here and leave it at that.  Plus we need to squeeze in as much island time as possible while it's beach weather. Summer in Maine is just never long enough to get everything done, especially when your favorite hobby is sitting in the sun reading and not doing the items on your summer project list.

Oh well, it will all get done at some point, especially the reading.  Priorities you know...

Happy Summer!

NIAW 2014

I had been meaning to write a blog for the last couple of weeks.  But I admit it, I'm lazy.  Lazy and also really busy.  But this week is the 25th Anniversary of National Infertility Awareness Week, and that's important enough for me to take a minute and do my part to raise awareness.

Most people who know me well know that my son was conceived through IVF.  It's something I am willing to talk freely about and share my experiences with, now that it's over.  At the time, while we were going through multiple IVF attempts, it wasn't something I talked about or shared.  It was hard to explain and it was hard to handle failure.  I perused online chat rooms and forums for little bits of support, but I didn't have anyone close I could talk to and share my experiences with.  It was a hard, lonely journey.  A journey that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.  Which is why I try to take a few minutes every year during National Infertility Awareness Week to remind people that 1 in 8 people are suffering with infertility.  1 in 8 people want to have a baby, and are struggling to get pregnant.  And, very likely, 1 in 8 people are struggling silently with their emotions because they feel alone.

Educate yourself.  Educate others.  Because someday, someone is probably going to need your support.

Here's my STORY

And here are some other good resources:

RESOLVE 

NIAW 2014

What You Can Do

A Sad Goodbye

It has been a long week.  One that began in Florida and ended at a funeral home.  Bags are still unpacked, homework isn't finished and above of all, we are all saddened by an unexpected passing.

On Monday, Don's grandmother had a heart attack.  Ironically, we had just been talking a few days before about how well she was doing and how fortunate she was to be living on her own in her own home at the age of 88.  Needless to say her passing was unexpected.  I'm not a religious person, and I'm not sure where I stand on divine intervention, but I do know that something must have brought her out to the grocery store that afternoon where she was surrounded by people who called an ambulance when she wasn't feeling well and ultimately kept her alive after she collapsed.  Because of that, we were able to make it home so that Don and his family could be with her when she passed, peacefully and quickly.

She was a tiny lady, but she will be missed in a very big way.  Even from the first time I met her, when I was just dating Don, he told me just to call her Grammy, because everyone did, and he was right.  She was every one's Grammy.  She was everything a grandmother should be, the very definition of grandmother.  Kind and caring, with never (and I mean NEVER) a negative word to or about anyone.  She truly sought to see only the best in everyone, a trait that I admire and wish that I could emulate.  And if there is one thing grandmothers are known for it's spoiling; and Grammy was a champ.  She loved her family and I think every member of it knew, without question, how much they were loved.

Today was the funeral and it was a wonderful goodbye to such a sweet woman.  The place was filled to capacity, and then some, with people who cared for her and wanted to share stories about her.  It was beautiful and moving and sad.  She will be missed by many.  And I am one of the many.

Two Hours Later...

I know, I know, everyone is bitching about the snow.  But it took me TWO hours to get home from work tonight.  TWO HOURS.  That's two hours of listening to the smack and screech of the windshield wipers covered in ice scraping over the windshield, also covered in ice.  That's two hours of driving with the window down because the heat has to be BLASTING in order to keep the windshield from completely freezing over.  Which didn't even work, by the way.  Two hours of cold toes because the God Damn Heat has to be BLASTING on the window, and ONLY on the window so that a teeny tiny patch of window remains clear.  TWO FREAKING HOURS.  I think I've earned the right to bitch for a minute.

There was a certain novelty of watching the thermometer on my dash dip below zero last month.  Just how cold could it get?  Seeing -17 on the dash, at the time, was pretty damn cool.  Waking up to -7 last week, randomly, was considerably less cool.  Did you know it's impossible to buckle a child in his car-seat when you're wearing mittens?  And do you know how fast your fingers get cold when it's -7 out and you can't wear your mittens?  Pretty damn fast.

This morning I told Ben it was going to snow again and he got all excited.  I told him I am ready for spring.  I am ready for shorts and t-shirts and flip flops.  I'm ready for grass and sand and the beach.  He quickly changed his mind and decided he's ready for spring too.

We're all ready for spring.

Instead I got a two hour car ride home in the snow.

I am so done with winter.