I've recently found out that as my step-mom puts it I'm going to be a "bonus" aunt in May. My step-brother is going to be a first time dad which I think is really, really cool. We've been part of the same family for a quarter of a century and while we've never lived in the same house or the same town for that matter, this new baby-to-be-named-later is already part of my heart as much as my brother's baby-to-be-named-later that is due in May, too. I mean, the aunt in me is doing major inner cartwheels because I have two babies coming at almost the same time next year. And my heart doesn't differentiate between the two.
And I got to thinking about why that is.
My parents divorced when I was 8 and while dad dated some, he waited about 6 years before getting remarried. Mom, however, eventually married 5 more times. Step-dad #1 is the father of my youngest brother and really and truly did the best he could with two ready made kids, a baby and a wife that really wasn't interested in being married to anybody. When mom left instead of calling my dad and saying "come get these brats" he took care of us just like we were his own until Dad found out and came and got us. I think losing us was harder than losing mom when it was all said and done. Step-dad #3 wasn't all that great, but his mom was wonderful and she spent just as much time and energy on her three step-grandkids as she did on her "real" grandkids. I remember being at the store with her and her seeing something in June that would make a great Christmas present for one of my brothers that she would get right then and save. We were always on her mind and in her heart. Step-dad #4 came to my wedding a couple years after my mom died.
Then there's my step-mom and her mom. I have the absolute best step-mom in the history of the world. No question. I will never be as great at being a step-mom as she is. The one thing that made it easier when my mom died is that I still have my step-mom. I'm not motherless by any stretch of the imagination. She's the lady that when I had my hysterectomy sat by my bed and worked on her needlepoint. She didn't push me to do anything, she didn't force me to try to talk, she didn't try to take over my healing process. She was present. When they had to start an iv for the 15 billionth time, she held my hand. When my ex-sister-in-law completely broke my heart, my step-mom was the one to call and let me vent and let me know that I wasn't alone in feeling that my ex-sister-in-law was out of line. And her example has been phenomenal. She loves every single one of my nieces and nephews as much as she's going to love her sons baby. Her mom is the one who has never missed a birthday or Christmas. I still cherish the afghan she made me years ago. I consider her my last living grandparent. Because she is.
I have two step-children. They have spouses and between them I have four precious grandbabies. They are my world. And if I'm even half of the step-mom/grandmother/aunt that my steps have been to me then I will consider myself a success.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
The Angel of Migraines
I have a wonderful life. Great husband, great family, love my job...it's not perfect, but it's good.
Except...
For flippin' migraines.
Growing up I got one in a blue moon and really, they were bad, but I wasn't like stressed out about them. I'd just get one and think "oh, this sucks, I have a migraine". And I'd take some medicine and drink some really strong instant tea and it would go away. Later, I'd get them and take a cocktail of benadryl and ibuprofen and go to sleep and it wouldn't be a big deal.
Five years ago, I woke up one morning, laid in bed for a little bit with hubby (laying being operative word), got up and started to get ready to leave town to go to my grandmother's funeral. Bent over to pick something up off the floor, stood up and next thing I know I'm hearing my husband say "Jennifer!! Jennifer!! Open your eyes and look at me!! Jennifer!!". What the heck? Why? Then I realize I'm in a really weird position. One doesn't normally find herself sitting in her laundry basket.... Then I realize I'm still naked. Then I realize I need to throw up. Then I realize the only other time I've seen my husband so scared was when I passed out from a fever a couple years before. Hhhhhmmmm..... (And can I say that since my step-sons best friend at the time was one of the EMT's working that I'm really happy the husband didn't call 911 so he could find me naked in my laundry basket? And what does it say about me that I'm more worried about that than the fact that I was unconscious and naked in my laundry basket.)
So that set off a round of going to doctors and emergency rooms and MRI's and CT scans and heart monitors etc and daily migraines. Yep, I said daily migraines. The husbands thought is that I hit my head against the wall when I passed out and it knocked something haywire even though my head didn't hurt and no damage has been found. The best news out of all of that...I actually have a brain. I have pictures. It's there. Contrary to some people's belief I do have more than just empty space between my ears.
So I went for 6 months of daily migraines. Taking a cocktail of meds to manage the pain, because these are not normally the type that are aided by imitrex or things like that. I have to take an anti-inflammatory, a pain med, muscle relaxer, and my dear old friend benadryl to get rid of the pain. And I need to sleep. I was working in a place that had a lot of chemicals and after 6 months of working only half days that it was best if I found a new job. So I did. And my migraines have dialed down to a couple a week.
I have two kinds of migraines which is part of my problem. I have the classic which is where you get the aura and have squiggly lines in your vision and it feels like someone is jabbing an icepick in your brain. Those are rare for me. Same as when I was growing up. Then I have my normal ones where it feels like the angel of migraines came with his boxing gloves and punched me in the left eye....always the left side. And either I wake up with it or suddenly I realize "Oh, hey, I have a migraine". There's no warning like the others. And with my normal ones there's three levels of pain. "Oh, hey, my head hurts. Ok." is the mildest, then there's the ones like today "Crap my head hurts, but I can function so here I am, but leave me alone", and then the worst "Oh freakin' hell, somebody kill me now!!!" And then recently, I've been introduced to a new circle of hell - the DOUBLE migraine. Really? Cause the others weren't bad enough? This is where I get one aura....my head starts to hurt really bad and then after that aura goes away about 20 minutes later I get another one. Seriously. And the pain that comes from that is excruciating x2. Yep.
But here's the deal. Along with my own personal pain and agony that goes along with these. Is what I have to deal with from other people. Most of my migraines are like today. I look fine. I'm at work. I'm functioning. I'm typing a flippin' blog for crying out loud. If you're paying attention, I look like I'm a little off. But to the casual observer I look fine. Something may come up and I'll say "Oh, I've got a migraine." But when they're bad enough I need to call in to work, load up on drugs and sleep all day, I get "but you could work the other day". Yeah, out of sheer force of will and too much I had to do. And then there's the husband. He's the only person on the planet I wish would get just one migraine. Just one. I don't get them just to ruin his plans. I don't get them because I just want to miss a day of work. I don't get them to get out of cleaning. And there's the granddaughters. God bless them. I hate it the most for them. There are times it is unavoidable for us to be in the same house when I have a migraine. And unfortunately, they've learned to ask "Do you have a headache?" when they come over and something seems off. They still need to be able to be little girls so I try to tell whoever is responsible for them that they don't have to be quiet and if they want to come give me a hug it is really, really okay. And it really, really helps me. But most of all it's the people that want to offer me solutions. Like I haven't tried everything already. And 5 1/2 years later, I have a pretty good idea what causes them, but you just can't avoid the weather. Although, I kind-of like my husband's ex-mother-in-law's idea....medical marijuana.... And I really hate being perceived as a whiny-a$$ baby because of it who complains all the time. So I don't share with people most of the time when I really need to.
So there's my migraine rant. I hate them and they hate me. And I hate that it inconveniences others. But there's nothing I can do about it.
Except...
For flippin' migraines.
Growing up I got one in a blue moon and really, they were bad, but I wasn't like stressed out about them. I'd just get one and think "oh, this sucks, I have a migraine". And I'd take some medicine and drink some really strong instant tea and it would go away. Later, I'd get them and take a cocktail of benadryl and ibuprofen and go to sleep and it wouldn't be a big deal.
Five years ago, I woke up one morning, laid in bed for a little bit with hubby (laying being operative word), got up and started to get ready to leave town to go to my grandmother's funeral. Bent over to pick something up off the floor, stood up and next thing I know I'm hearing my husband say "Jennifer!! Jennifer!! Open your eyes and look at me!! Jennifer!!". What the heck? Why? Then I realize I'm in a really weird position. One doesn't normally find herself sitting in her laundry basket.... Then I realize I'm still naked. Then I realize I need to throw up. Then I realize the only other time I've seen my husband so scared was when I passed out from a fever a couple years before. Hhhhhmmmm..... (And can I say that since my step-sons best friend at the time was one of the EMT's working that I'm really happy the husband didn't call 911 so he could find me naked in my laundry basket? And what does it say about me that I'm more worried about that than the fact that I was unconscious and naked in my laundry basket.)
So that set off a round of going to doctors and emergency rooms and MRI's and CT scans and heart monitors etc and daily migraines. Yep, I said daily migraines. The husbands thought is that I hit my head against the wall when I passed out and it knocked something haywire even though my head didn't hurt and no damage has been found. The best news out of all of that...I actually have a brain. I have pictures. It's there. Contrary to some people's belief I do have more than just empty space between my ears.
So I went for 6 months of daily migraines. Taking a cocktail of meds to manage the pain, because these are not normally the type that are aided by imitrex or things like that. I have to take an anti-inflammatory, a pain med, muscle relaxer, and my dear old friend benadryl to get rid of the pain. And I need to sleep. I was working in a place that had a lot of chemicals and after 6 months of working only half days that it was best if I found a new job. So I did. And my migraines have dialed down to a couple a week.
I have two kinds of migraines which is part of my problem. I have the classic which is where you get the aura and have squiggly lines in your vision and it feels like someone is jabbing an icepick in your brain. Those are rare for me. Same as when I was growing up. Then I have my normal ones where it feels like the angel of migraines came with his boxing gloves and punched me in the left eye....always the left side. And either I wake up with it or suddenly I realize "Oh, hey, I have a migraine". There's no warning like the others. And with my normal ones there's three levels of pain. "Oh, hey, my head hurts. Ok." is the mildest, then there's the ones like today "Crap my head hurts, but I can function so here I am, but leave me alone", and then the worst "Oh freakin' hell, somebody kill me now!!!" And then recently, I've been introduced to a new circle of hell - the DOUBLE migraine. Really? Cause the others weren't bad enough? This is where I get one aura....my head starts to hurt really bad and then after that aura goes away about 20 minutes later I get another one. Seriously. And the pain that comes from that is excruciating x2. Yep.
But here's the deal. Along with my own personal pain and agony that goes along with these. Is what I have to deal with from other people. Most of my migraines are like today. I look fine. I'm at work. I'm functioning. I'm typing a flippin' blog for crying out loud. If you're paying attention, I look like I'm a little off. But to the casual observer I look fine. Something may come up and I'll say "Oh, I've got a migraine." But when they're bad enough I need to call in to work, load up on drugs and sleep all day, I get "but you could work the other day". Yeah, out of sheer force of will and too much I had to do. And then there's the husband. He's the only person on the planet I wish would get just one migraine. Just one. I don't get them just to ruin his plans. I don't get them because I just want to miss a day of work. I don't get them to get out of cleaning. And there's the granddaughters. God bless them. I hate it the most for them. There are times it is unavoidable for us to be in the same house when I have a migraine. And unfortunately, they've learned to ask "Do you have a headache?" when they come over and something seems off. They still need to be able to be little girls so I try to tell whoever is responsible for them that they don't have to be quiet and if they want to come give me a hug it is really, really okay. And it really, really helps me. But most of all it's the people that want to offer me solutions. Like I haven't tried everything already. And 5 1/2 years later, I have a pretty good idea what causes them, but you just can't avoid the weather. Although, I kind-of like my husband's ex-mother-in-law's idea....medical marijuana.... And I really hate being perceived as a whiny-a$$ baby because of it who complains all the time. So I don't share with people most of the time when I really need to.
So there's my migraine rant. I hate them and they hate me. And I hate that it inconveniences others. But there's nothing I can do about it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Thinking of Mom
I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately. She passed away 7 and a half years ago and tomorrow would have been her birthday.
When I would write before she was always my "editor", "soundboard", "supporter". It kind of makes me sad that she's not around to bounce ideas off of. But then again it's oddly freeing because she was my audience and she and I didn't agree on a few things. Now I don't have to fit it into what I think she would like, but what I feel like writing. And it's also a bad idea to have a relative critique what you've written because then feelings get thrown in and then holy crap what do you do with that. Are they rejecting your writing or are they rejecting you? What the heck did they really mean when they said that that sentence was worded weirdly?
And I've been struck again by how much she is missing. I just found out that preliminary tests would show that I'm going to be an aunt again. This will be niece or nephew # 9 (although, I'm leaning toward niece and I have mad baby predicting skills within my family). Mom was around for the first 4. 4 have been added since she passed and the baby to be named later will be number 5. Not to mention I got hitched and skipped the whole mom thing and went straight to grandma. (I highly recommend it. Grandkids and nieces and nephews are the best inventions ever.) So I've got 4 precious little ones of my own that Grandma Jessie would have loved.
But she made her choices and wherever she is maybe she's watching.
When I would write before she was always my "editor", "soundboard", "supporter". It kind of makes me sad that she's not around to bounce ideas off of. But then again it's oddly freeing because she was my audience and she and I didn't agree on a few things. Now I don't have to fit it into what I think she would like, but what I feel like writing. And it's also a bad idea to have a relative critique what you've written because then feelings get thrown in and then holy crap what do you do with that. Are they rejecting your writing or are they rejecting you? What the heck did they really mean when they said that that sentence was worded weirdly?
And I've been struck again by how much she is missing. I just found out that preliminary tests would show that I'm going to be an aunt again. This will be niece or nephew # 9 (although, I'm leaning toward niece and I have mad baby predicting skills within my family). Mom was around for the first 4. 4 have been added since she passed and the baby to be named later will be number 5. Not to mention I got hitched and skipped the whole mom thing and went straight to grandma. (I highly recommend it. Grandkids and nieces and nephews are the best inventions ever.) So I've got 4 precious little ones of my own that Grandma Jessie would have loved.
But she made her choices and wherever she is maybe she's watching.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Introduction
I've been struggling for awhile with who I am and what I want to be doing with my life. The short answer is - well, duh - my life right now is pretty well set in stone. And it is, but within that life, who do I want to be? It's not enough for me anymore to just be a wife, just be a step-mom, just be a grandma, just be an assistant, just be a member of my church. I want to do....something.
Three thoughts came to me over and over and over again.
1) My most vivid memory of school growing up is the 4th grade. We were two classes combined into one and we had two teachers. Our days were divided into going to different stations. The only station I remember was the writing station. They had pictures laminated in a file and you had to pick a picture and write whatever story you could come up with. I LOVED that station. I don't remember anything else about that year when it came to learning. I don't remember much from any other years directly related to learning. I still think about writing those stories to those pictures.
2) My senior year of high school in our English class there was one rule. If you had a fragmented sentence in your essays it was an automatic F. No questions asked. Everything else could be fine and if you had a fragmented sentence too bad. Everyone dreaded getting stuck with her in their senior year because she was so strict about her rules - especially that one. One essay was for the book "Cry, the Beloved Country". It was about apartheid and to say I was passionate about it was an understatement. She starts to give the papers back to the class after grading them and she announces that although I had a fragmented sentence in my essay, she couldn't possibly fail me because the rest of it was so good. So she chalked the fragmented sentence up to artistic license and gave me an A-. Two things I learned....when the teacher makes an announcement like that, you're classmates hate you for at least a week and I loved writing the essay so much that compliment was just a bonus
3) Completely unrelated to writing I heard somewhere that if you wanted to truly be an actor, to try out for the local theater. The numbers of people who actually get famous by acting is extremely low, but acting is acting.
So it dawned on me that I really want to start writing again. I've already started collecting pictures. I've started a couple of writing exercises. And I decided to start a blog.
Then I tried to decide what to write about....what could I possibly have to write about in a blog? Well, let's see. I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who were born with heart defects. I know there are a lot of recovering alcoholics and drug addicts out there. I know there are a lot of migraine sufferers out there. I know there are other women who have grown step-kids with grandchildren that aren't theirs by blood but by heart. I know there are other women married to men in wheelchairs. I know there are a lot of people who are hearing and work in the deaf/hard of hearing community. I know there are a lot of women who are members of the church of Christ. And I know there are a lot of NASCAR, University of Oklahoma, Oklahoma State University, Dallas Cowboy fans out there. But I also know that I'm the only fruit basket turnover of all those things that I know of. So I'm pretty sure I have a few things I can write about here.
And my ego would like to point out that, while yes, I am writing for the sake of writing itself....it would be nice to have people actually read what I write. Am I going to be a published novelist...probably not. But it would also be nice to have an audience beyond the notebook in my bedroom.
Love,
JK
Three thoughts came to me over and over and over again.
1) My most vivid memory of school growing up is the 4th grade. We were two classes combined into one and we had two teachers. Our days were divided into going to different stations. The only station I remember was the writing station. They had pictures laminated in a file and you had to pick a picture and write whatever story you could come up with. I LOVED that station. I don't remember anything else about that year when it came to learning. I don't remember much from any other years directly related to learning. I still think about writing those stories to those pictures.
2) My senior year of high school in our English class there was one rule. If you had a fragmented sentence in your essays it was an automatic F. No questions asked. Everything else could be fine and if you had a fragmented sentence too bad. Everyone dreaded getting stuck with her in their senior year because she was so strict about her rules - especially that one. One essay was for the book "Cry, the Beloved Country". It was about apartheid and to say I was passionate about it was an understatement. She starts to give the papers back to the class after grading them and she announces that although I had a fragmented sentence in my essay, she couldn't possibly fail me because the rest of it was so good. So she chalked the fragmented sentence up to artistic license and gave me an A-. Two things I learned....when the teacher makes an announcement like that, you're classmates hate you for at least a week and I loved writing the essay so much that compliment was just a bonus
3) Completely unrelated to writing I heard somewhere that if you wanted to truly be an actor, to try out for the local theater. The numbers of people who actually get famous by acting is extremely low, but acting is acting.
So it dawned on me that I really want to start writing again. I've already started collecting pictures. I've started a couple of writing exercises. And I decided to start a blog.
Then I tried to decide what to write about....what could I possibly have to write about in a blog? Well, let's see. I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who were born with heart defects. I know there are a lot of recovering alcoholics and drug addicts out there. I know there are a lot of migraine sufferers out there. I know there are other women who have grown step-kids with grandchildren that aren't theirs by blood but by heart. I know there are other women married to men in wheelchairs. I know there are a lot of people who are hearing and work in the deaf/hard of hearing community. I know there are a lot of women who are members of the church of Christ. And I know there are a lot of NASCAR, University of Oklahoma, Oklahoma State University, Dallas Cowboy fans out there. But I also know that I'm the only fruit basket turnover of all those things that I know of. So I'm pretty sure I have a few things I can write about here.
And my ego would like to point out that, while yes, I am writing for the sake of writing itself....it would be nice to have people actually read what I write. Am I going to be a published novelist...probably not. But it would also be nice to have an audience beyond the notebook in my bedroom.
Love,
JK
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