Smoother Sailing

Babies have gone home, heart-breakingly early, but for the best. Best for them, best for me, best for where we all are in this crazy life.

Supposed to be taking my ailing daughter to the hospital to apply for their financial assistance program so she can get her gall bladder out before it kills all of us. She hasn't wakened yet -- sleep is a  healer and a small cessation of pain.
Anybody wanna bet the first thing she says will be "Why didn't you get me up?"

I could, of course. Make her start hurting again, make her NOT have to take responsibility for her own needs, for her own health care.
I think not. She needs to learn independence, something that she has somehow failed to learn.
She also needs to make her own medical decisions, because that is the law of the land.

Did she not learn, or was she not taught? I've thought often about this and have no definitive answer. Not teaching would be my failure; not learning would be hers.
It doesn't matter, anyway. That's in the past, and we -- I -- must go on from here and keep trying to get those lessons across.

Not easy, with her daddy's nurturing helpful dispensing of the knowledge that "Your mom knows how to do that."
I learned by doing, as everyone must.

Dad has an appointment with his pulmonologist this week. We have questions about headaches and a tickle in his throat.
Anybody wanna bet I'll end up being the one who asks the doctor about these issues, because he won't speak up? (I'm going to try, if I must, just reminding Rex he wants to ask about these things.)

This issue annoys me because it makes me sound like a bossy managing dictator, and not in a good way.

Yes, I'm bossy. I'm the oldest of eight, and I know no one in that situation who isn't bossy. It's part of the job description of oldest child ( of a multitude.)

Yes, I'm managing. Someone has to take care of things.

A dictator? Possibly at times. Waffling on decisions has to stop somewhere; decisions need to be made.

But I only look like one of those militant fat-ass Battleship Broad!

That said, I have had some sleep and feel capable. I hope that I can remain so, even when the sailing once again gets rough. As it will.
As I well know it will.

I'll be ready.
I hope.

At least, for a while, I'll be rested.

Lawns are Overrated

This summer may be as memorable for its Lawn Mowing Crises as it will be for its No Bathing scenario.

When last we mowed, the riding mower  wasn't starting, so not running, and our quasi son-in-law had been mowing when the push mower decided to oil both him and the yard, as if from a cut artery. Rex went to a yard sale and bought another push mower. The Doofus mowed, but before he finished, he managed to break a ceramic guard off the newly purchased mower.

Rex managed to start and run the rider a few times, through the magic of jiggling and wiggling the fuse box, so the yard was done after a fashion. Not that he has had any business outside in heat and humidity, throwing up clouds of cut grass and pollens.
Earlier this week he was mowing on the rider when it quit cutting. It was running, but it just quit cutting the grass.
His diagnosis: a bearing on the deck went out. (Later he said it might be a broken or stretched-out belt, but of course the first thing he thought of was the most difficult and probably the most expensive cause.) We're waiting for Doofus to come and help him check it out, since it isn't something Rex can do alone or with my feeble assistance.

Yesterday I got out the push mower. I couldn't start it. Starting a push mower requires more co-ordination than I have ever had, and a fair bit of strength. I had hoped to have some mowing done by the time Rex woke, but that wasn't going to happen.

The sad thing is, he no longer has the strength to push/pull/hold and start the mower. At least, he didn't yesterday. It may have been a bad day for him. More likely it is his chronic illness catching up with him.
He's not ready to concede that, and it will take something from his spirit when he does.

What's so important about mowing anyway? Have you ever tried letting your lawn grow and seeing what Mother Nature will provide when you don't scalp her abundance to nothing?

There are shy little white flowers, with sprinklings of gold fairy dust that will creep out from the exposed roots of trees. There are exquisitely tiny johnny-jump-ups that jump up from nowhere. There are, of course, the golden sun discs of the dandelion. The white-to-pink-to-purple fronds of clover. There is the weaving waving sinuous grass-in-the-wind. And that's just the plant life!

Lawn mowing is overrated. It's too bad that so many towns require a certain amount of lawn mowing, because Nature provides a nice variety of textures and colors and scents and sounds and general liveliness that will never be felt, seen, smelled, or heard in a properly manicured and subdued lawn.

I cherish the variety Nature provides. I also cherish my husband, and I mourn with him that he cannot do this one thing that he has taken pride in being able to do -- keep his yard looking nice. If we cannot fix or replace his rider, or get a push mower that doesn't need starting (my first brother suggested an electric mower -- a wonderful idea for the purpose), then we will have to look into a different living arrangement.

Different indeed, with no lawn for him to mow or me to watch nature grow. It will be sad to leave the roots and wonders, but a joy to leave the(before, during, later on) malfunctioning machinery behind and have it out of our lives.


When that day ever comes. It's taking its time, as Nature takes hers, and fills my yard with flowers.

Flow of Family Fun

My brother's wedding Saturday made me think of how we, as a family, handle the ebb and flow of these get-togethers. Summer means there will be a few, and maybe a few more.

I opted out of many family events because I wanted to avoid conflict with my dad, who is gone now. He and I were on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, and he was always outspoken about his beliefs. I don't think he ever meant to start any fuss and bother, he just wanted to convince everyone of how he believed.

Add to his firmness, the fact that he was deaf, and whether one agreed or disagreed, one had to shout and make prolonged eye contact to converse. I don't know how it works for others, but shouting, even over innocuous topics, ends up with me becoming angry. Shouting as a physical function, raises the blood pressure, which causes a flood of other reactions.

Anyway, because of the situation, I avoided. Didn't stop my girls from knowing their grandfather, did prevent them from seeing me act like a shrewish lunatic with him.

Now, I see my own daughter mirroring this behavior. Because of work and also because of some personal issues with family members, she has avoided the family get-togethers. No one wants to be involved in a fight, or to be the person everyone in the family fights with or becomes angry over the fighting.
Anyway, she has chosen to abstain from the possibility of conflict.

But she worries about her child not getting to know this side of her family, and the solution Tam reached was the same one I did. To allow the child to attend in the care of another family member. (In her case. me.)

Maybe it's wrong, but it seems to me the best solution. Not in every situation, not for every event, but in general it's a good thing. It acknowledges the importance of family, it keeps up traditions. even starts a new one -- tradition by proxy.

Like all families, we disagree. Sometimes we take sides against one another, and we'll talk to a third member about how stupid so-and-so is about whatever. We can be vicious or angry, or vicious and angry.
But when we get together as a group, we try to enjoy one another's company without conflict. We aren't perfect, sometimes a forbidden topic slips in and someone feels attacked.

We respect one another. We know we are available to each-and-every in at least some way. Making an effort to keep the young ones connected even when we can't teaches them, by example, that family IS important. The events that Family is Fun. No matter if it's you or they who are the stupid or wrong ones. Family IS.

As the worldly world whirls by, as weather wreaks havoc, as all our institutions are besieged, there can be no stronger message to leave our children.

Sad Day. Good Day.

Yesterday, my sisters and brothers and I sorted through my dad's left-behinds. It wasn't too bad. He had everything in order, knew what he wanted done and how he wanted it done, and since most of us are now adults, we went with it.

I don't think anyone who hasn't been through this can appreciate how wonderful it is to have adult siblings. One sees and hears so much of fighting and brawling that can go on at these 'events'. Surely those things are a dishonor to the Dear Departed, however much they may have promised both Bub and Sissy that each could have the Elvis collection for their children.

We had none of that. What few things were grabbed by two people, they were discussed, and usually ended with each sibling saying "Go ahead" to the other.

That's a legacy any father could be proud of. Mine certainly should be