My Life Is A Highway, Getting Shot, & Dog Butts....

Me: Awe.  Why did you get me flowers?

Him: Because I love you.

Me: Okay.

...

Also Me: You sure you're not having an affair or something?

Him: makes squishy guilty face

Me: Nah, who am I kidding?  We are too tired and have no time for that.

Things have been, busy, to say the least.  Not hectic, just never ending.  In the last two weeks I have been to the city 6 times. Oldest decided to come home again this weekend, which I loved, but it meant yet another trip in to bring him back.  I was lucky enough that he opted for the train out so I didn't have to brave rush hour traffic, yet again. He's in a weird spot right now, crunch time in what feels like the fastest semester ever.  He's torn between wanting to be in town and wanting to be home.  The sleep and food is great at home, but he does like the lack of family drama. Either way he'll be home in 28 days, hopefully gainfully employed somewhere in the civil engineering field through the summer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of my many trips into the city was to get my first shot.  A friend of my sister's has gotten good at navigating the CVS websites and is getting appointments for those of us that have fallen through the cracks. The Hubs and I were lucky enough to get Pfizer, which is typically better tolerated.  I still have swollen lymph nodes, but my nausea, chills, and headache have subsided 4 days out.  I'm sure I will have a reaction to the second dose, and I have taken off already from work just in case.  Anyhoo, when I saw it was going to take 2 hours to get home, and only 10 minutes to get to Oldest's dorm, I opted for an ice cream date with him, and sailing easily out of the city 2 hours later. The Hubs second dose is scheduled in that same location on my day off, so we have planned to head in early, take Oldest to lunch before his class, then head over. Might as well make the best of it, yes?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The girl had her teeth cleaned finally.  She had to have three teeth pulled, and it took her a bit to get back to her old self.

That moment you're just trying
not to puke in the back of your Uber.

Poor girl was like a lump for two days. To add to the awesomeness, they put her on an intestinal medicine that I already had in the cabinet for myself.  Same dose and everything. Of course I realized this after I paid $30 for her 11 pills. 

One minute I'm dancing on the table,
Next thing I wake up and my leg's shaved.

The good news though is that they have literally ruled out every possible thing that could be causing her to have accidents at night.  The Vet game me some homework to do, and I've found that she's not excessively drinking water, just excessively drinking it at night.  So we've restricted her water intake after 9pm to once cup only, and it seems that we're curbing the issue. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work has picked back up, with 1 out with COVID and 3 out for contact tracing, it's making for plenty of available overtime. Pacing myself is the name of the game now a days. I'm still taking time here and there to organize and enjoy the little things about being home. I found these hooks at Ikea a month or so ago and finally got them properly situated in the mud room area...

They are prefect for the girl's coats and what not. I also reorganized our coats and what nots, as well as created an area for the husband's hats.  Which, upon pulling them all together, I think he may need an intervention.  But that's a whole different post for another week.

World Traveling...

 Me: Do you have anyone else that can grab you on Wednesday from the train station?

Him: No.

Me: So it's just me?

Him: Well, what else do you have to do?

Me: Um, well, I do work for a living...

The Mom in me knows he didn't mean it to come out like that, but it did.  And in fact, I was fine to get him if he came out of the city after 3pm, which is what we had discussed, but of course, we've been discussing a lot lately, and he had forgotten.

Weeks ago he had asked me to help him find a hotel in the city so he could explore the city on his own for his birthday.  We discussed what he wanted to do, where he wanted to stay, amenities, and time frames.  And then didn't discuss it again until 5 days before he wanted to go.  Five days people.  Even I can not work vacation magic with 5 days notice. 

The time frame was supposed to correspond with when I'd be bringing his brother back to school.  It did not.  It was also supposed to account for weather.  It did not.  Nonetheless, we found a hotel room, with a pool, close to his brother, and some friends that are also in the city for school. We booked a nonrefundable room because the date was so close. Two days later he debated canceling the whole thing because he was yet again fighting with the girlfriend.  The next morning it was on, then off, then on again. Tuesday came and I drove them to the train station, until we realized it was closed for renovations. The next two were closed as well.  Once back on the highway I just drove to the city, found a quiet side street relatively close to where they wanted to be, and left them both on the curb.

I didn't hear another peep out of them until they came out early on Wednesday. Luckily, I had also gotten out early from work. I was able to pick them up easily without much traffic from the train station. They saw some friends, had lunch around town, and stayed on the 26th floor.  The pool and hot tub was fantastic and they had hella fun as I'm told. As soon as we landed at the house, he drove her home and he was off hanging with friends.  A perk to being literally in between jobs at the moment. He returned home around 9pm, with the sole purpose of booking a bus ticket to New York. 

About a month ago he had told me he was meeting up with a friend who booked an Airbnb on Long Island for his leave from the military. This friend is less than reliable and he has burned them before. So when there was no mention of it again, I figured it had gone up in smoke like most of this guy's plans. Apparently, it did not.  However, time had brought some sense into Youngest, who hates to drive even 30 minutes, and he decided to come to me for other means of travel. I am torn by this, as the Hubs thinks he comes to me because he's too lazy to do it on his own.  I think he does it because he's insecure in his own ability and doesn't want to screw it up. Regardless, I helped him look at options.  Eventually, he settled on the bus, a much safer and cheaper option that will result in far fewer headaches than driving 5 hours through 3 states.  

After booking the trip, hand on the doorknob, he was headed out again.  There was a brief loud discussion, about how he needed to slow down because without down time the weekend would be a disaster.  We had words, he was tired, I was frustrated, and I walked away.  Clearly, hand on the door knob, he wasn't going to listen anyway. Around 11:15 I texted him, and got no answer.  On my way around the house locking up I noticed his car outside, and went down to his room.  He'd never left. Hand on the door, he'd closed it back up when I walked away and went downstairs to bed. Could it be I am actually penetrating his teenage psyche? Nah. But I'll take it as a win. 

Friday he coordinated his own ride into the city for the bus.  The Mom of the friend he's going with didn't have to work until 11, so she shot them into the bus station with ease.  I got a conformation that he was on the bus, and a few frantic texts about how he'd be getting to the Airbnb from Penn Station. he summoned and Uber, and an hour later he was beach side on Long Island. Not that I wanted this to blow up in his face, but I was genuinely surprised when the Airbnb was in fact real and actually booked for the week. And aside from that conformation, I have received radio silence for the weekend, until 730 pm this evening when he confirmed that the bus had left on time and that he was on it.

This week has proven challenging for both of us. For him, being the grown up of both groups, having to coordinate and map out where they were going is different for him. He had to problem solve and spend his own money. He had to work around other people's schedules and have it not be all about him.

For me, I had to let him do this. It was honestly easier than I thought it would be. When I heard a siren I didn't worry that it was for him. I did not need to know if he was coming home or not each night. And while I'm sure he was doing things I wouldn't like, I wasn't immediately confronted with it. 

What was hard was just being the Husband and myself for 4 nights. We tend spend money in down time folks, and find projects we didn't even know we had, stopping myself just short of buying a new refrigerator. We picked up an old trunk for my friend to refinish.  We bought paint for the bathroom ceiling. I impulse bought the lights I've been debating for months, hung them up, and put them on a timer.

Him: Did you see your lights came on?

Me: No. Do they look festive?

Him: Like we're ready for a wild party.

Me:  It's 7:17. I'm in my bathrobe, eating cool whip and pudding straight from the container.

Him: Yip. Paaarrr-tayyyy.

I guess, if we string them up the party will come to us?

I hope they bring their own Cool Whip.  And Bathrobes.

Self Care...

It's the buzz word of 2020.

Self care.

It's a hard thing to pin down. There is no real answer, or wrong answer.  For some it's getting their hair or nails done, for others it's meditating, yoga, or eating right.  Searching for my care, I've done all those things over the years, the first two leaving me feeling as though I wasted money, and the latter landing me in the hospital for six days. For years I hid what made me whole because it wasn't the correct answer, or it wasn't socially acceptable.  Now of course, I'm too old for such nonsense, and too tired to care what anyone else thinks. Truth is, the cleaner and more organized the house is, the happier I am.  So I clean, often, which not only benefits me, but everyone that lives here. Which begs the question, is it really self care, if it's for other people as well?

My other go to is right brain activities, those that create, tell a story, or problem solve. Taking what would otherwise be trash and bringing new life into it.  I belong to the Local Buy Nothing group on FB.  If you're not already in the know, search it up with your town's name and you'll find it on FB, as nearly every town has one. People post things they are getting rid of, or searching for, be it services, goods, or ideas, for free.  In January someone downtown was cleaning out her MILs basement.  I should mention that I live in one of the most historic places in the country, so sometimes you find some very old things downtown. This was one of those times. Behold, the trunk....

It was in rough shape. The handles are long gone and the rubber from the wheels had worn completely down to the metal ring.  The oil cloth covering was covered in white mold and starting to crack and peel, and the inside paper lining had a weird yellow fungus going on. And it smelled, lord, how it smelled. Now, a smarter version of myself would have done some research before taking a crowbar to it, but this version of me did not.

The nails are all square, with tiny hooks on the end that break off when you try and pull them out.  By the second nail, common sense finally chimed in and I called my Dad who explained it was a specific type of construction done before screws, that ensured the nails would hook in once set and not pull out. So my dreams of painstakingly taking every nail out, stripping it down and rebuilding, was now out of the question. Armed with a razor, putty knife, and degreaser spray I went to work...

The oil cloth came off the outside pretty easily, but the paper inner lining was far more stubborn.  I found that soaking it down with the degreaser after scraping the easy to remove stuff worked quite well. Best $3 I spent so far, clearly, as about 80 years of grime and unmentionably grossness is now in the driveway.

Now we're getting somewhere.  Thankfully, the weather agreed with me and for a few days it was able to dry out.  At that point, I decided to do a light stain just to give the wood some depth again.  Again, a smarter me would have researched what happens when you try and stain 104 year old wood with no conditioning. It soaked it up like paint peeps.  It was not good. At. All.  So I sanded, and sanded. And. Sanded. Until the color variation was just right. I also darkened the hand carved 1916 with a bit of alcohol ink I had on hand.  It just made it stand out a tiny bit more. After a quick wipe down, the taping began. One roll of painters tape, a full advertisement catalog, and Three. Hours. Later....

Even the dog was over me and my antics...

She did move once the spraying began, no need to alert the authorities. First I started with a iron gray metallic spray paint ($5) which just didn't quite do the trick.  So I tried a spattering of black.  

Still not right.  Finally I went with a flat matte black, which when sprayed light enough allows the gray metallic to show through in places.  The unveiling was fairly dramatic...

But wait!  There's more...

The smarter version of me finally did some research and decided on a conditioning balm ($21) instead of a varnish that could peel or yellow. This blend of hemp oils and other good stuff conditions the wood, and allows a soft sheen while smelling good. Which was great because the weather had turned bitterly cold again and the whole project needed to be moved inside...

Y'all, I can't say enough about the Wise Owl product.  I am now scouting out what else I can use it on.  I have no idea why it has taken me so long to discover it, but it was a game changer. And I found it on eBay, so I got it on a brand new, but no box, discount. 

I enlisted the husband's help to attempt to remove the old casters from the bottom but after a snap and crack of the bottom rail it was determined that they were staying in place.  Instead of adding to the height, I grabbed 4 screw in feet ($3) that can be set just a hair higher than the wheels, saving my floor and not adding to the height of the trunk. 

But wait!  There's more!  We still have an entire inside to go!  I started by spraying the upper half of the base a matte dark brown as well as the inside sides of the lid and the center crossbar. Then I bit my lip and invested $31 in cedar planks...

I went with a staggered pattern for two reasons.  One, it is more forgivable and two, I was too cheap to buy an additional box if I didn't need to. And then, the biggest investment of my free project, the lid. I scoured Etsy for days until I finally found it.  A 1903 map of the villages of  town. I carefully trimmed, and trimmed, dry fit, and pasted. When everything had cured I coated the cedar planks in the Wise Owl salve....

I. Am. In. Love.

Seriously.  About half way through I realized this was the first project I was doing totally for me.  I wasn't being paid.  It isn't being sold (much to my husband's dismay).  It's not for someone else to use or enjoy.  It was just for me.  All in, the project has cost just over $100.  Many things I had already in the garage, and of course, the labor and trunk was free.  All that's left now is replacing the handles.  Sadly the tin end caps ripped in half while I was removing the remnants so I had to order new ones. The smarter version of me discovered that an old black leather belt cut into 8" strips are the perfect replacements for the straps. The less smart version of me donated all of ours two weeks prior to realizing that. I may go to the donation center and buy it back for 50 cents.  Not the first time I've done this buy the way. 

I still have to figure out where it will live in the living room.  It's to store our extra towels and blankets and pillows, so having them easily accessible is key.

But for now, just having it sitting there makes me happy. 

A trunk, now fit for a queen's adventure, as my Mum says.

Or at least, for the queen's towels.

Marital Bliss....

I can hear the Husband snoring already.  

Not a huge feat mind you, since the living room and bedroom share a wall, but it's loud nonetheless. 

I'm dreading going to bed, honestly. It's hard to sleep through it, and I actually do feel guilty when I nudge him to gain a few minutes of silence. And as I sit here typing this, the rare moments of quiet between breaths are filled with tiny barks from the dog.  She's ferocious in her dreams apparently. Last night I gave up half way through and slept on the couch.

The husband and I hold hands while we sleep.  It's super dorky and we don't even do it intentionally.  But more often than not, when I wake up in the middle of the night we are holding hands, or locking arms in some way. Last night, my shoulder was killing me and every time I got into a semi comfortable spot and started to dose off he would grab my hand and pin it in place, sending searing pain up my arm. So I slept on the couch. When I woke up, my shoulder still hurt, as well as my back. 

Meanwhile, Oldest's bed is completely unoccupied now. A brand new, queen sized, memory foam mattress with clean sheets and snuggly blankets and two comforters. And yet, I slept on the couch. 

What is wrong with me???

I think tonight I'll save myself the never-ending toss and turn and teeny lap blankets and just sleep in Oldest's room instead.  I'll miss the hand holding, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote that 2 weeks ago.  Truth be told, we've slept separately nearly every night since.  Hubs heath issues are now migrating to his side making it impossible to sleep on his right, and with the two of us it's just too hard to get comfortable in the same bed. At least this way we can salvage a few precious hours of slumber.

The dog has no idea what to do.  Get tucked in by dad in her bed?  Guard the doorway of Oldest's bedroom for Mom?  Last night Hubs slept in Oldest's room. Fed up, she just gave up and slept in the living room, barking tiny barks of ferociousness in her sleep. 

Hubs went for more testing on his lungs.  His oxygen saturation rates haven't gotten above 95 for weeks.  Their finding? Possible asthma.  I call bullsh!t. And his doctor is on vacation until the 15th, so she'll not even see the results for a week.

I think it's time to head to the big city hospitals. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not a lot going on otherwise.  I finished filling out the FAFSA for Youngest because he's thinking he has no choice but to go back to school in September. I can't even argue this with him any more.  I just don't have it in me. The FAFSA is a giant pain in the butt, but it's done. End point. In the mean time, he's quit his job at the coffee shop and is now on to be an ice cream scooper. Lord help us all. 

Youngest's nineteenth birthday is Monday.  His grandfather is still freaked out about having everyone at the house so we are just doing dinner with them without the extended family.  Oldest gets tested twice a week, and the Hubs was just tested yesterday because of his testing at the hospital, so the odds are in our favor. Still no luck in getting either of them (my parents) the COVID shot.  Massachusetts has seriously done the worst job ever at rolling it out. It will likely be May before they see their first shot. The Hubs isn't eligible until June anyway so maybe we'll just all go together at that point.

And with that said, it's time to go change into the jammies and hold hands with the Hubs before I call it a night in the other bedroom.  Oldest is home on Friday to visit, so I figure I'll get as much sleep as I can until then. 

Waiting To Exhale....

 Earlier last week there was some suspicious buzz on the campus Facebook page that something had gone terribly wrong. Thankfully the admin for the group shut comments down on the post quickly. The letter soon came from the President of the College. One of the Freshman had taken his life while in his dorm.

It hit me hard, as we could have just as easily gotten the call back in September.  Instead we got the call from Youngest, mid attempt. We had the chance to scoop him up, to withdraw him, to take a deep breath, and try and start over. This student's parents did not get that chance. 

I woke up on Sunday to another cryptic post from a casual friend.  Her boys are the same age as mine more or less, so our circles over lapped quite often.  We'd pick up our respective Youngest's from kindergarten every Wednesday at the school.  She later remarried and moved to the mail route I deliver on.  Her new husband had 4 kids, in addition to her two, so they had a full house.  One of his sons wrestled with Youngest.  On one of the non-local two day sectionals her husband and I found ourselves at dinner killing time and quickly realized we had gone to High School together. She and I find ourselves at the mailbox quite often, talking about the kids.  She knew what was going on with Youngest long before many others, and I knew when they finally had to decide to throw his son out because of poor choices.  She rarely posts anything on FB, and almost never anything personal.  When she changed her profile picture to her Oldest and her nephew (also from town, a few years older than Oldest, one of like 7 kids), my gut said something was up. 

She too, had gotten a call. Her Oldest, the one who had just moved out 18 months earlier and was doing really well in his chosen career, the one not on the radar, had been in a car accident.  His cousin was also in the car, along with another boy in the back seat.

While the accident details are fuzzy, her Oldest broke his leg.  The break caused an arterial issue and he was flown to the city to not bleed out.  Her nephew, whose birthday is today, broke both his legs, his pelvis, and part of his spine. As of right now the spinal damage is not in the cord, thankfully, but when the car caught on fire, it burned 10 percent of his body.  The boy in the back, less injured than the others, freed himself from the car and went back in to free the other two.  He is the reason they survived.  

The road that lay ahead is exceptionally hard for both of them, and with COVID restrictions is harder to travel virtually alone. He is self employed, and while he has health insurance, he has no sick time.  If you don't work, you don't make money. There is a Go Fund Me set up that's already exceeded 16K, a small drop in the bucket for the both of them, but it's a start.

And again, it hits me, as we were there in the hospital also, one year and 2 weeks ago exactly when Youngest rolled the car on the highway. Again, I was able to pick him up, bring him home, and try and start over.  And thankfully she can too.

With every day that passes it feels like I hold my breath.  No matter how good he's doing, or not. It seems the only time I can exhale is when he's home sleeping in his unmade bed. My hearts mourns for the students parents, and for my friends who had their breath stolen with one vibration of the phone.

I guess that's the downfall of parenthood that no one talks about... the endless amounts of time we hold out breath, wondering if it will ever be safe to exhale.