Father's Day Dinner

Sis worked and then spent the evening with her dad, and Nat and Shel and I went to church then I helped them cook dinner and dessert for their dad.

First we made an apple pie.

Public Service Message: with pre-made pie crusts, it's so easy, and when someone makes you a pie it's so impressive. I highly recommend pie making for those that want an easy way to make a good impression.

Seriously, look at that thing. Who would not be humbled when presented with such a treat?

Then the girls made chicken and rice and spinach salad.

It was a hit. They had a good time and were so proud of their accomplishment.

At our house when there is a female in the kitchen doing more than boiling water for ramen or mac and cheese, it's a big deal. My husband does almost all the cooking. He really enjoys cooking, so who am I to get in the way of his enjoyment? I don't want to be known as a fun-sucker after all. Plus he can look at the all the random stuff in the cupboard and fridge and throw together something edible. I however, need not only a recipe but all the correct ingredients as well. Imaginative I'm not.

A Hospital Visit

Last night Sis and I headed to the hospital where her dad is recovering from surgery for throat cancer. It is such a helpless feeling to see someone fight cancer. I was glad that Sis and I could bring him some books and movies to keep him busy as he makes his recovery. I think Sis is taking this a lot harder than she puts on. My older kids lost both their grandmas to cancer and have seen their grandpa fight it and lose his bladder because of it. Sis has seen the effects of cancer from a young age, and is scared for her dad. It is such a horrible disease.

I really wish my kid's dad (I prefer to call him that rather than my "ex") wasn't having to deal with it at all. He was in good spirits despite not being able to talk (due to a tracheotomy) and was writing comments and questions to us like crazy. I had to tease him a bit about his deplorable penmanship, and his sense of humor was definitely still intact!

I told him the story of my dad's surgery in August (which we laugh about now, but was very trying at the time). Dad woke up in ICU "confused and combative", and because of that they had to put restraints on him. Well then he thought he had been kidnapped and was being held hostage, so that when my sister came to visit he was cursing out the nurses and yelling to my sister to call 911, and get his nephew to bring guns. At one point 3 nurses had to hold him down. As dad recovered we told him a bit of what he went through as he didn't remember anything. He'll say that he feels terrible that he'd cursed out the nurses, but he really likes hearing the part about how 3 nurses (one of them a male) had to hold him down and how they commented on how strong he was! He's pretty proud that at 78 he could give them a "run for their money"!

I know seeing Sis really cheered her dad up, and he's recovering faster than they predicted, so we're just praying that things keep getting better for him.

My little preemie nephew is at the same hospital, so we got a chance to visit him as well. He's now in the NICU "Step Down" nursery where they're not nearly so strict about visitors, so Sis was able to see him for the first time. He's doing so well that he may be able to come home on Sunday. Here's a photo of him saying "Hi"

Can you tell I'm crazy about him? In fact I may be known forever more as the "crazy auntie"

Baby Photos

I made it down to see my little nephew/grandson today. I didn't get to see him last week due to a series of unfortunate incidences, so I was really excited about seeing him and spending time with my niece.

When I got there, the NICU was closed because the doctors were doing their rounds, so I treated my niece to a nice lunch. She has been staying alone in a hotel room, and eating Cup of Noodles, and fruit to get by without spending any more money than they have to, poor thing. Her husband usually joins her on Fridays, but during the week she is 1 1/2 hours from home coping on her own.

She is so strong and positive about it though. I am really inspired by her. I can't imagine going through a c-section then being released without having a baby to take home. Instead of being home, recovering from major surgery and bonding with her baby, she's been shuttling back and forth to the hospital, pumping milk every 3 hours, and going home on the weekends to see her 3 year old girl. And that's not including the really difficult pregnancy and 10 weeks of bed rest that led up to Zach's premature birth. It's overwhelming for me to think about, and she's living it and taking it all in stride.

Again, I had to use my "grandma" credentials to visit Zach. I feel rather guilty about lying to the nurses, but I also think my niece not only likes the company, but enjoys showing off her baby and have someone make a fuss over him. That's how I'm trying to justify it anyway...

Today though after we signed in and washed up, a nurse came over to us and after updating my niece on the baby, asked who I was. I told her I was the grandma. She said, "You're kidding!" Oh, how that made my day! Finally someone had a bit of compassion to question my grandmotherliness. I told her that well, really I was the step-grandma, and she gave a little nod and said, "Oh..." like that explained everything.

I got to hold my little psuedo-grandbaby for the better part of an hour. I told him how many people were looking forward to seeing and holding him, and encouraged him to grow and get strong so he could come home soon. I then assaulted him with the flash on my camera, as any proud "grandma" would do.

My New Little Nephew

Well, great-nephew really, but I call him just my nephew.

I'm really blessed to have a wonderful niece by marriage that I'm very close to. I was her labor coach/doula with her first baby 3 years ago, and this time that was the plan as well, but due to a very difficult pregnancy involving a subchorionic hematoma that caused bleeding for the first 20 weeks, and then preterm labor and bed rest for the next 11, the birth plans kind of flew out the window and our great nephew arrived some 8 weeks early on Cinco de Mayo via c-section and weighed in at a pretty hefty 4lb 5oz.

The NICU rules are that they only admit parents or grandparents, but my niece really wanted me to be able to see him, so I had to masquerade as a GRANDMOTHER. I was not that thrilled. Surely at 43, I could be old enough to be a granny, heck I have friends who became grandmas before they were even 40, but the thought that I may be looked at as a grandmother was not an appealing situation to me.

My niece's roommate had her grandmother turned away (the baby's great-grandma), so I was a bit worried about trying to deceive the perceptive nurses. My niece and I discussed the deception we would perpetrate ahead of time so that we'd have our story straight. I would be her husband's step-mom after his father had had one of those mid-life crises and went on to marry me, a MUCH younger woman. Yes, that's the ticket. We had it all planned.

I nervously followed her to the NICU where a nurse opened the door and I followed my niece in. We signed in, washed up and went to the baby's bed, and NOT ONE PERSON questioned my grandmotherliness! They didn't even need my niece to say, "Oh she's the grandmother." I was a bit miffed to say the least. What a blow to my ego!

Being tagged as a grandma had it's perks today though, because I got to see my new little nephew and he gripped my finger with his tiny hand. He's absolutely beautiful and doing well. Yeah, I could get used to this granny-thing if it means spending time with him!

Bear Turds

This is my favorite quick chocolate fix. Behold the loveliness of my famous Bear Turds:

I've been making them for almost as long as I remember. I was probably 10 or 11 I guess, when I was bored and craving chocolate, and came across this no bake recipe for Chocolate Drop Quickies in my grandma's Betty Crocker cookbook circa 1961.

Grandma must have given this book to my mom, but I know it was Grandma's because it bears the scars of surviving her house fire and I recognize her writing on the cover and inside. Thermidore was apparently on page 269 and Chicken Fried Steak was page 304. I may just have to look those up and cook them at some point.

At any rate, I started baking at a young age and these were always one of my tried and true favorites. Simple ingredients, plus they were quick and easy. And the best part of making them is licking the pan-yum!

I have called them Bear Turds for as long as I remember. I've never really thought twice about it. My family has always had a bit of an irreverent sense of humor. In fact I remember my mom making this fantastic fresh raspberry dessert and my dad, as a joke, and in hopes of keeping everyone out of the leftovers so he could have it all for himself, made a sign that said "Danger! Dog Logs-Keep out!" and placed it on the bowl containing the dessert in the fridge. (You see, he called dog poo, dog logs. So instead of going out in the back yard to shovel dog poo he would go "logging".) We all got a laugh as we opened the fridge to see his sorry attempt at deterring us from consuming it. Sadly from that point on that scrumptious, gorgeous dessert became known as Dog Logs.

It is a bit embarrassing when we have friends over and the kids offer them a Bear Turd. I always cringe and hope they don't mention it to their parents when they go home: "Mom, guess what we ate at Lesley's house!" Alas, I have no one to blame but myself (and my dad)!

What's in a Voice?

So many people mistake me for my daughter and vice versa when we answer the phone. I don't know how many times my husband has gone into detail over some boring matter with Sis before she could break in and say, "Do you want to talk to mom?"

Sis has a friend that gets us mixed up all the time too, and she has gotten to the point where she asks which one of us is speaking now instead of just assuming and launching into her conversation that was meant for Sis.

It seems it's not just me and Sis who have the same voice. My sister and I do too. When I call my dad I always make sure I tell him it's me, because he absolutely has no idea which one of us is speaking. And I remember as a teen, frequently having friends call and mistake the two of us. And we definitely have the same goofy laugh!

My sister said that we also sounded like mom. I know she's right because I can actually sometimes hear my mom's voice coming through me. This usually happens when I'm reading to the kids that I hear her certain inflection coming out of my mouth. It's a bit strange, but comforting at the same time.

It's funny how a voice can be inherited. It makes me wonder how many of my female ancestors also had my same voice. It's kind of a neat thing to think about. That even though the person is gone, the sound of their voice still lingers. Hmmm....

A Snake Charmer

My sister and I have always been snake lovers. Well actually we're just all around critter lovers. From the cute and cuddly to the big and slimy, we both are crazy about "all creatures great and small".

When we were young we would often catch little blue belly lizards, frogs, toads and water snakes. Our poor dad is one of those people who cannot stand the sight of a snake. It just really gives him the heebie-jeebies, and here he was blessed with two little girls who thought bringing a slithering reptile in a coffee can into the house was more fun than Barbies any day. I can only imagine how many times he must've jumped out of his skin coming across one our precious pets.

Mom, on the other hand was more like us. In fact she had a couple toads who lived under our house that she was quite fond of. One day some neighbor boys were playing in the yard and took one of these toads. Well, Mom caught wind of it and she was pissed! She was especially upset to think of what these boys might do to her toad. She immediately got on the phone and called the boys' mother. As Mom told it, the poor woman on the other end of the phone got an earful from her, as Mom demanded, "Your boys took my toad and I want them to bring it back right now!" We lived in a very small town, so the crazy toad lady episode was probably the scuttlebutt for some time afterwards.

Well, I can be a bit anal about the reptiles in my yard too, and it's good to know I come by it honestly. I do not let the kids play with my little frogs that live in the flower beds unless they are just going to handle them gently and put them back. I am also on the alert when I see one of the cats messing with something, and have saved quite a few snakes from a torturous death. I always get a thrill from holding a snake and feeling it slither through my hands--yes, I have the crazy toad lady's genes.

A few weeks ago the kids came running into the house all excited to tell me there was a rattlesnake in the yard. I figured that it probably wasn't, and that I would be saving a garter snake from the cat again. However, when I reached the front steps and saw Mike poised with his shovel, I had a feeling the kids knew what they were talking about.

As I got closer I could see the little guy trying to hide under the wooden border that separates the lawn from the driveway. He was obviously a rattler, though he wasn't rattling at the moment and I couldn't help being completely fascinated by him, and crouched down to observe him a bit closer. He was the coolest snake ever, and to think I was lucky enough to have him right in my front yard! I was apparently the only one who felt this way because about this time Mike lifted his shovel up and said, "Now everybody step back." This caught me off guard. What? He can't be serious. He wants to kill it? I tell him, "You can't kill it!" And now he was the one caught off guard. As he processed this bit of information, I could see the realization hit him that he should've just killed the dang thing and shown me the beheaded body.

I tell him he needs to find a bucket, get the snake into it and take it out to the forest and set it free. He is beyond thrilled to hear this bit of news, but reluctantly heads to the garage to find an empty garbage can. Isn't it amazing what a guy will do for a woman? He is able to get the bucket and a long stick and he very carefully starts jabbing at my sweet little snaky friend. My little friend is not happy about this and starts rattling like crazy. I've never seen a rattler this close up. Wow, it's so cool!

It only takes Mike about 3 tries to get him in the bucket. He has a look of relief on his face and is ready to take my little serpent for a walk. I tell him, "Wait! I have to get a picture of him!" and I rush to the house to get my camera. I'm pretty sure I saw Mike's eyes roll back into his head at this point. After a couple photos and a few more admiring glances I let Mike take him across the street and out in the woods where he can be safe from shovel-wielding maniacs.

I think this is a great lesson for the kids. They got to see what a rattle snake looks and sounds like and they also learned that just because you're afraid of something that you don't need to kill it. I tell the kids that they need to be careful around animals that can harm them, but if it's possible to save the animal, you should. After all, these creatures have a place in nature too.

Mike also learned a lesson that day. I think it goes something like this: Act first and tell the crazy lady later, or be prepared to spend your afternoon pretending to be Steve Irwin.

Good Night Nurse!

So I was out helping take care of Dad this weekend who is recovering from bladder cancer surgery. They took his bladder out so now he has an ostomy bag. Apparently they took out his sense of modesty as well, which must be housed near the bladder in the human body.

I'm sure giving Dad a modestectomy was a minor mistake they made during the surgery and they thought we wouldn't notice that his modesty was now gone. But we did. Dad doesn't care who sees his stuff now. He just wanders around in an open robe and nothing else. He also has the habit of dragging along a big bag of urine with him. Eventually he could use his ostomy pouch which can be hidden under clothing, but for now he likes the heavy duty, industrial sized bag, because it doesn't need to be emptied but once a day. You've heard of people who seem to have a bladder the size of a watermelon and never have to pee? Well this bag is the medical version of that. It's very convenient for those who don't want the hassle of using the restroom, but for the rest of us it can be a bit distracting during meals and polite conversation.

It was my intention to go out and be of help; do laundry, fix meals, clean house, and keep an eye on Dad, giving my sister a much needed break. The first thing Dad wants to do is take a shower. Mind you this is his first shower in 6 weeks. He's pretty determined about it, and Tracy and Dave have already installed the needed equipment in the shower for him. I ask if he needs help, as it is clear to me now that I've already seen everything so I might as well help him wash it too. He declines, and on one hand I'm thinking that's good, because he needs to become independent. On the other hand it scares me to death that with the combination of soap, water, and his unstable physical condition at the moment, he'll hurt himself. He heads for the bathroom and I listen to every sound coming from behind the door. For the next 11 1/2 minutes I'm a nervous wreck. If he slips I'll feel terrible for not insisting on helping him. Finally I hear the water shut off and hear him shuttle off to his bedroom. All is well. Thank you Lord.

Then he calls out for me. So I rush back to the bedroom and he tells me not to go in the bathroom. What kind of doom awaits I can only imagine, but then he explains that he had forgotten to put the shower curtain inside the tub and got water on the floor and didn't want me to go in there for fear I would slip. He'd just as soon wait for the water to evaporate rather than put me out, but I tell him it's no problem and go start the clean up.

Well, he got quite a bit of water on the floor. A good 1/2 inch or so over the entire floor, plus the counter, the mirror, the toilet paper and the unsuspecting box of Kleenex also saw what a hand held shower head is capable of when it's not being restrained behind a curtain. It was quite a sight, and how he made it out of the shower and waded through the wetness on the linoleum without killing himself will be one of life's perpetual mysteries.

Oh, and I think your modesty regenerates. It must, because women lose theirs all the time during childbirth, but somehow it comes back. Here's hoping Dad's modesty is on the return. Soon.