daily dilemma

my daily dilemma today is this:

why does it take getting upset and angry to get someone to listen?

i find this with my children.  they do things, usually, just by being asked.  but there are those things that i ask over and over and over again, and i finally have to get really upset, bordering on irate, in order for them to get it across.

scare tactics.

i encountered this today at the office.  patient with a multitude of medical issues, from a life of just over 60 years spent living hard and playing way too hard.  i actually had to threaten to put her in a nursing home in order for her to start taking care of herself.

i don't like to be that way.  and it wasn't an empty threat.  her medicines are all wrong, and no one to this point has taken any responsibility for it.  she was seeing multiple specialists that just kept writing her prescriptions for things.  and now she's mine, and i have a duty to make sure things are right.

she wasn't receiving the proper care at home.  it made me think more than once about calling adult protective services.

so why is it that the only thing that will work is to "scare them straight"?  why is that the only tactic left?  and why is that always left to the last resort?

i've found, as callous as it sounds, that taking someone's freedom away is the worst thing you can do.  i can talk until i'm blue in the face about people needing oxygen, people needing insulin for their sugar, people being on dialysis, or losing toes because of blood pressure.  but it doesn't sink in until you tell them they have to go to a nursing home.

then it's "straighten up and fly right."

seriously.  i had the conversation with her two weeks ago.  today, in the office, she thanked me for the "come to Jesus" we had.  she agrees that she needs to take better care, and she's demonstrating it.

why does it have to take such drastic measures to make people see?

my father, the hero

it's been quite awhile since i've written anything in here.  between the holidays, the work, the "busy," and the trying to behave normally, it seems that time has gotten away from me.

i started to write something on what would have been my mom's birthday.  but it was too hard.  too raw.

however, i AM going to write something here, on my dad's birthday.

i'd like to introduce you all to my father.  his name is robert.  and his birthday is today.

born the fifth of six children, and the third of four boys, dad was raised on a farm with his brothers and sisters, his mother (a WWII nurse and first lietenant), and his father (a WWII medic and corporal).  there are many stories of the boys being boys, sailing down the basement stairs, nailing a basketball backboard to the living room wall, one of the boys putting rocks in their dad's gas tank.  as they all got older, their hijinx turned to cars, driving fast, replacing carburators, and driving go-karts through the halls of the high school.

when my dad was set to graduate high school, he was a pretty good baseball player.  he played first base, and was offered a chance to go to college and play college-level baseball.  times being what they were, dad chose to work instead.  he was hired in to a factory job, where he worked for 30 years and retired at the age of 48.  during that time, he was many-times in a supervisor position, having been a born leader.  but he never lost that love of baseball, passing it on to countless kids during his years of coaching little league, Pony league, and to his eldest daughter while coaching her softball team. 

he also passed on his love for IU basketball, and i remember being small and knowing who bobby knight was before i could name the president of the united states.  so many winter afternoons and evenings were spent with popcorn, Assembly Hall, and bobby knight.  popcorn made in the old-style popper that had to be turned upside down in order to eat the goodness.

dad has always been extremely handy, and it was usually my sister who accompanied him in the garage.  i will say that to this day, the scents that remind me most of my dad are sawdust and a zippo lighter (since dad used to smoke).  he is where i learned to use my hands to make things happen, and i believe that he is the reason, to this day, that i prefer to figure something out and do it myself, rather than to pay someone else to do it.  his reasoning, and mine as well, is that if i do it, at least i know it's done correctly.

dad worked hard while i was little, working in the sweltering heat of a foundry to make sure we had what we needed.  he worked third shift, and slept during the day.  in the summers, we girls would stay up late to stand by the front door and wave to him before he left for work.  every night.  throwing hugs to him.  blowing kisses.  and there were times when dad would be laid off.  we never, ever needed for anything.  but there were many times when mom made our clothing, and we ate cheaper things.  but we never hungered for love, faith, or encouragement.  dad could often be quoted as saying he was our greatest cheerleader.

as i got older, dad got to have a little more fun.  often heard when i was little, he always wanted a harley.  he was finally able to get one when i was in the seventh grade.  a sportster 883.  a small bike for a big guy with a huge heart, it wasn't long until the 883 was traded for a superglide.  that was a man's bike, and a bike that fit dad's personality.  the bike was gone when i went away to school, realizing my dream to go to indiana university.  a dream that i was supported in.  a dream that mom and dad both saw come to fruitition. 

during my time away, i decided to go to medical school, instead of becoming a nurse like my grandmother.  i was nervous and scared that mom and dad would be unhappy because it meant more money for school.  but they supported me, helped me study, and threw a huge party for me after i took the MCAT.  and when the envelope came in the mail at home, and i was still in bloomington, they both called me and read it to me over the phone.  i had to pull over (i was driving on campus when i got the call), and i heard mom and dad both screaming and crying.  my dad was proud of my accomplishment.  he should have been more proud of himself for the things he did to get me to that point.

through all of my schooling, i never felt hungered or thirsted for attention.  most mornings, during college, dad and i would chat on instant messenger about random things.  it felt good to have a piece of home with me.  there was even one very memorable night that i took dad on a bar crawl with me and a bunch of my friends, and he was by far the coolest guy in the joint.  i remember many a night, after finishing a late rotation in medical school, i'd call and talk to dad.  and it didn't matter if he was sleeping or busy, he'd always take the call.

i can say that's one thing i have always been able to count on.  my dad and i have always had a very close relationship.  i've been extremely lucky to have a dad that i can consider a father, a peer, and a friend.  i've never had to feel ashamed, or embarrassed, or alone.  because i always had my dad.  even to this day, despite the fact that i'm 32 years old, my dad's advice and opinions mean a lot to me, and i still consult him for many things in life.  of course, i consult my husband, but i consider what my dad would do as well.

my dad is greatly responsible for my early faith in Christ, always making sure i knew the real meaning behind christmas and life.  and always sending up a silent prayer, or bringing up an occasional Bible verse when needed.

i am quite certain that if one looked up the definition of "daddy" in the dictionary, it wouldn't say anything about "biological genetic donor," which is what a father is.  "daddy" would have a picture of my dad, listing characteristics such as "silly, playful, serious, strict, supportive, loves chocolate cake, can throw a knuckle ball, rides a Harley, sings karaoke, loves a cold beer on a hot summer day, takes great pleasure in his grandkids." 

one thing i would add, despite what he always says about my sister and i being his heroes, is that i'm pretty sure that he is our hero.  he took all the things he was given in life, good and bad, and made a life for us that couldn't have been better if we would have hand picked it.  and i will forever be a better person because of him.

i love you dad.

autumn...

photo by @iubloomington on instagram

i love autumn.  i really do.  i love summer more, but i love the change.

i hate that it's so brief.

i love the sweaters, the boots, the chill in the morning.  i love the feeling of the heater on my toes in the car in the morning.  i love the feel of the steam of my coffee, floating up and swirling around my nose.

autumn will forever remind me of college.  i went to indiana university, which was my dream as a little girl.  when i was small, the biggest thing in the world was indiana university basketball, and, specifically, bobby knight.  i knew who bobby knight was before i knew who the president was.  that's just the way our house operated.  dad and i, and sometimes mom, watched every single game.  i knew every player, their hometown, their stats, their jersey numbers.  and i decided when i was young, that no matter what i decided to be when i grew up, i was going to go to that school.

now, fast forward to high school, where this young and naive girl managed to earn the title of valedictorian, but by all rights did not earn academic scholarships to cover this schooling.  i applied to valparaiso, indiana university, university of saint francis.

the Big Guy Upstairs really knows His stuff, though, because when the financial packages came through, IU was the clear winner.  i had to work as a work-study in the office of the registrar, and i had to take student loans, but my once bigger-than-life and bigger-than-my-small-hometown dream was realized.

and the picture above is just a tiny part of the gorgeous, historic campus that i was blessed to call home for four years.

during those four years, i learned in class.  sure.  i majored in biology and minored in chemistry and spent endless hours in the chem building, in jordan hall eating bagels on the floor of the lobby, cramming for tests, and in the union, sleeping between 8am lecture and 10am lab.  but i learned a lot more.

i learned independence.  i learned nostalgia.  i learned a lot of values, and i learned a lot about people in general.  i learned that there are somethings that are okay to let slide, and there are other things that you just can't let go.

i learned more than academics.  i learned school spirit, pride, self-indulgence and self-control.  i learned what i wanted out of life.  i learned how to work hard, and how to play hard.  i learned what i could handle.  and i learned responsibility.

even to this day, the smell of an autumn morning reminds me of walking to class, fingers chilled, nose pink, rain or shine.  certain songs, too, remind me of the experience...an experience that i share with a lot of good people, some still here, some gone on to other adventures.  but the one thing that all of us have in common is that time, that place, and that excursion of being miles from home, and yet feeling at home all at once.  that bittersweet feeling of homesickness and independence, tempered with laughter and antics.

indiana, our indiana.  indiana, we're all for you!

we will fight for the cream and crimson

for the glory of old IU!

never daunted, we cannot falter.

in a battle, we're tried and true!

indiana, oh indiana!  indiana, we're all for you!

occupational hazards of mommyhood, part 2

so.  piper had to have stitches last friday.  five of them.  five, interrupted, 5.0 ethilon sutures put in by yours truly.

she actually did pretty well, except for the numbing part.  i've never understood why lidocaine burns so badly.  i mean, the whole point of numbing something is not to hurt, isn't it?

jay was there, held her head still, and 15 minutes later, she was patched up, almost as good as new.

and she immediately wanted to go back to school.

how did this happen?  she was chasing boys.

she's 6.  yes, she was chasing boys.

and i told her, "piper, the boys are supposed to chase you."

her response:  "but mommy, i'm faster than all the boys."

touche.

she also lost her top front tooth last week.  so it was kind of a weird week.

here's my question........why does this always happen before school pictures?

school pictures are this week.  wednesday.  in three days.  as in, she may still have her stitches, depending on how she heals.  lost teeth, i understand.  that's typical.  but stitches?

last year, she cut her hair, in the front, to about 2 inches in length, in one spot.  thankfully, i was able to hide that a little bit.  she lost the tooth, i thought, eh, no biggie.  every kid has a shot where they've lost teeth.  but STITCHES?!?

well, i guess this will be a way for us always to remember the year she smacked straight into the playground equipment because she was chasing boys.

Thirty Two

okay.  i'm 32 today.

to say it out loud, it sounds kinda old.

which is exactly what my 6 year old informed me of yesterday.  "mommy, that's an old age."

"so you're saying i'm old?!?!"

"no mommy, that's just an old age."

first, she guessed i was 15.  i should have gone with that.


however, not to be a downer, i'm interested in facts about the number 32.  here are some that i found:

it is the atomic number of germanium.

it is the number of completed piano sonatas written by beethoven.

in religion, the number of physical attributes listed for the appearance of buddha is 32.

it was the uniform number for sandy koufax, jim brown, oj simpson, magic johnson, bill walton, and karl malone.

it is the number of teams in the nfl.


interesting things that happened in the year i was born (1980):

pac-man was released.

the u.s. boycotted the summer olympics.

cnn was launched.

the phillies won the world series.

john lennon was killed.


in 32 years, i've seen, done, experienced, wished, dreamt, and worried a lot.  this year is going to have to work hard to top the last, and yet, there are many things that i look forward to being improved.  i know that, above all else, i am blessed to have been giving these years, and that the Big Guy Upstairs must think i'm pretty awesome to keep me around for this long.

i had a dream last night about my mom.  and i woke up sobbing.  i wonder if she was trying to reach out to me, to say happy birthday.  after all, she birthed me.  i wonder.

cleaning DIY

okay, i've always wanted to one of those women....you know the kind.  the kind that look fabulous without trying.  that don't need make up.  that make their own clothes, jewelry, cleaning supplies.  the kind that have a house that always looks like a magazine photo shoot.

well, i'm not going to want anymore.  i can do this.  and with pinterest i can find all kinds of ways that are easy, cheap, and...well...easy to be this woman.  to be the mother/wife/homemaker that i've always wanted to be.  and to save money.  to stop throwing money away on stupid stuff.  and to make things more earth-friendly/kid-friendly/pet-friendly without so many harsh chemicals.

i already mark myself fairly crafty with some things.  i can sew, cross-stitch, make wreaths, and do lots of neat  home decor. 

but my first project with regards to my diy stuff is going to be cleaning supplies.  so much money is wasted on products full of chemicals in order to clean things....dishes, laundry, floors, tubs, counters. 

now, i have a steam mop.  and i love that for what i can use it for.  steam is clean, hot, antiseptic.  but i can't use that to clean my clothes, or my toilets, or my mirrors. 

so i'm going to figure some ways to do these things without the chemicals.

shopping list:
baking soda
vinegar
ammonia
dawn dish soap
hydrogen peroxide
borax
washing soda
oxyclean
rubbing alcohol
bleach
spray bottles/containers
scrub brushes
white towels (so that they can be bleached and the color won't bleed)
paper towels

products:
tub scrub (via martha stewart)
one cup baking soda to one teaspoon dish soap.  add enough water to make a paste and scrub.

carpet spot remover
one part ammonia to one part hot water into a spray bottle. spray liberally onto carpet, place white towel over and iron stain away.

glass cleaner wipes
2 cups water, 1/2 c. rubbing alcohol, 1/2 c. vinegar.  use 1/2 roll paper towel, into container, soak towels.  remove center cardboard roll and pull wipes from center.

baby wipes
2 1/4 c. water, 2 tablespoons baby wash, 1 tbsp baby oil.  mix and soak 1/2 roll paper towel as above.

bleach wipes
1/2 c. bleach, 2 1/2 c. water.  mix as above.

deodorant stain remover
1 tsp dawn dish soap, 4 tsp peroxide, 2 tbsp baking soda.  mix and scrub and rinse.

homemade laundry detergent (liquid)
1 bar of soap, 1c. borax, 1c. washing soda.  grate the bar of soap.  put into big pot with one gallon of water. cook until soap is melted. add borax and soda.  bring to boil.  turn off heat.  add one gallon of cold water.  use 1/4 to 1/2 c. per load.

homemade laundry detergent (powder)
1 box borax (4lb 12oz box), 1 box washing soda (3lb 7 oz box), 1 (3lb) container oxyclean, 2 bars zote soap, 1 box (4lb) baking soda, 1 bottle crystals fabric softener (optional).  grate bars of soap, mix all ingredients together and use 2 tbsp per load.

shower cleaner
1 part dawn dish soap to 1 part vinegar.  spray and scrub.

this is gonna be so awesome.  i'll need a pair of birkenstocks before long.

the best offense is a good defense

so, i realize that once a person has kids, or gets married, or moves into a new house, or starts a new career, there are bound to be scores of advice given from all corners of the earth.

"well when my daughter was born...."

"when we moved into our new house...."

"when i first started being a working mom...."

"when we got married, we...."

and the truth is, i thought i was totally equipped to handle all of this.  take it all with a grain of salt, i told myself.  and tuck back the really great advice for future reference.  and keep track of things that were helpful for me.  and try not to push my advice on anyone else unless they ask.  or at least preface it when i offer it with, "this is only my opinion, so feel free to ignore it, but..."

i never really steeled myself for having to defend my decisions, though.  to have to stand up to criticism.  unwanted advice i can let roll off my back.  and at least if advice is offered, there is the opportunity there to accept and learn from it.  but when i'm criticized for choices i've made or ignored, my hackles go up and i immediately go on the defensive.

the best offense is a good defense, right?  well, i suppose in order to be aggressive with the raising of my family/preservation of my marriage/furthering of my career, i'd better get my defensive line in order.  

i'm not perfect.  i make mistakes constantly.  if i can make it through a day without screwing someone or something up too badly, i count that in the win slot.  there isn't any such thing as a perfect person, or a perfect mother or wife, but i strive to be the best i can.  some days i end up just above sucking, and those days are the days that drain me.

but i'm not sure where it is that anyone has a right to criticize the manner in which i live my life.  i try not to criticize others if i can help it.  i don't bag on them for not doing certain things, or for making certain choices.  and there are days that i pray for bedtime....for the kids, or me, i'm not always sure which.  and there are other days that i don't want the day to end, ever.  there are days that the kids just grate on every nerve ending in my body, and there are days where i'd pick them up and put them in my pocket and carry them with me for the whole day.  there are more days than not that i'm so happy that things are the way they are, and only a few days where i wish i was better, more involved, more patient, more constructive, more present.

regardless of the way i feel on an ever-changing basis, it's my life....the life that the Big Guy Upstairs has blessed me with.  and as long as He and i are good, i can't see where anyone has the right to stand in judgment of me.  to try to penetrate my defensive line and get to the core of my team, my huddle.  and as far as i can say, no one is going to break that down.  that line may get battered at times, and occasionally it may miss a block, but overall, that defensive line is going to defend what i've got, what the Big Guy and hubs and i have built.