I wouldn't be the controlling, know-it-all person I am if I wasn't a bit nosey. Sitting in the terminal, waiting to be called to board the plane, I people watched. I scrutinized everyone and everything that came out of or went into the little door behind the desk that leads to the plane. The pilots walked through the door. They looked mature, in control. Not bad. Nothing I saw caused me to stress, so I started to believe that I felt comfortable with this whole flying thing.
Over the intercom it was announced that first class passengers should line up for boarding. Hmm. Isn't first class at the front of the plane? Wouldn't it be easier to let the back of the plane load first? Alright, let it slide. Not everyone is as smart as I am. The announcement came for passengers with children to board. Our turn. We handed the attendant our tickets and she pointed us through the door. As we headed through the door I had to say, "At least we walk the plank as a family." Jason tapped my shoulder and scowled. "It is called a gangway, Honey." OOH! That makes it better. I pictured gang members practicing drive by shootings on either side of this plastic roofed funnel! Good Lord my imagination sucks.
We approached the plane's door. The very friendly attendant stepped forward and offered to help carry a bag. I warmed to her instantly. How nice. We officially board the plane. The cockpit door was open about halfway. What kind of person would I be if I didn't attempt to peek in? So I peeked. A uniformed gentleman caught me, smiled and quickly shut the door. My mouth again, "I guess they didn't want me to see them passing around the vodka bottle." This prompted another, rather more forceful tap from my husband which was accompanied by a rather acidic, "Paula!" The attendant who was helping us to our seats ignored me, but I swear she smiled! What was I supposed to think? What if I just wanted to meet the pilot? What if I wanted some vodka too!!??
I chose the window seat. Claustrophobia has never been much of an issue for me, but why take chances? We got settled. The rest of the plane was buzzing with people slamming compartments, getting into their seats and doing what ever it is that people are supposed to do on boarding a plane. My view out the window wasn't too bad. I could see the end half of the wing but otherwise my view was unobstructed.
I heard the crew shut the door up front and they made their way down the aisle to check the overhead compartments. They then started that safety dance thingie. Over the intercom we hear someone telling us what to do while the attendants positioned in the aisle dance out the story. Kenny thought this was a performance for him. He even clapped when the chick who was standing next to our seat was done! We are buckled in and ready. Kenny is sitting buckled to daddy on his lap, I am sitting at the window.
The plane taxied out. We pick up speed. Faster and faster. I am ok. Jason however has one arm wrapped around a wiggly Kenny while his other hand is slowly and surely being crushed with the increasing pressure from my grip. We left the ground. A little bump. My stomach dropped. Felicia punched my kidney, slapped my bladder, kicked my left lung and head-butted my other kidney!! My God that hurt! I was so focused on Felicia beating the crap out of me from the inside that I forgot I was on a plane! She was either really happy or really pissed off! I just knew if I lifted my shirt I would see bruises forming. Jeez, KID!
The plane leveled out. Things were ok. I relaxed, a little. I talked and talked to keep my mind away from remembering that movie where people crashed on the mountain and ended up eating each other. This leg of the journey was to be about 2 hours long. We have a stop in Seattle, then it is on to Anchorage. I counted to 10, breathing deeply, about 500 times. An attendant made her way down the aisle with a cart full of tiny trail mix bags and soda. I pulled a little pack of crackers out for Kenny. We snacked, looked out the window and talked. There were three seats on our side of the plane, we only paid for two, but the third was empty so we were able to spread out a bit. Kenny finally fell asleep for a while. He hadn't fallen back to sleep since we woke him up to put him in the truck. Things were going fine.
The announcement came that we were coming into Seattle. The view was awesome. Water everywhere! We got our belts on and prepped as instructed for the landing. Kenny was awoken and put back in Daddy's lap. I started to get nervous again. The ground was getting closer. I can do this. This is for my kids. This is for my kids.
When those little puny tires hit the landing strip I almost tore Jason's arm off! Felicia again went into a frenzy and Kenny giggled. Pictures of the plane rolling end over end flew through my head. They were gonna stop to fast and kill us all. No, they weren't gonna stop at all and we would crash into some fuel tanker parked at the end of the runway and we would all blow up! The plane came to a stop. We were at the terminal. I looked to Jason, "Hey, that was easier than I thought! See, I didn't get worried one bit." He raised the hand that I had been holding. Deep red claw marks, one actually bleeding were visible on his flesh. So I am not perfect!
We left the plane and I headed straight for the bathroom. There was no way in hell I was going to get my pregnant ass stuck in the plane's potty so I had held it during the flight. Checking the tickets and the monitors, we made our way to the next plane that would take us all the way north to Alaska. We found the gate and checked in. Lucky for us there was a Burger King right next to the waiting area so we decided to eat.
Into the waiting area for the next flight. Not bad. I felt pretty good. I have survived the first leg of the journey. I asked the chick at the counter where I could go to smoke. She gave me a dirty look. I spouted off, "Yes, I am pregnant. Yes I am one of those evil ozone killing, nicotine addicted freaks that thoroughly enjoys pulling smoke into my lungs." I got another dirty look. She told me I would have to go to the designated smoking area. She pulled out a map. Good God. If you have to look at a map then you know your in trouble. The smoking area was about a ten minute flipping walk from where we were! Our flight was due to leave in about 30 minutes. Great. Besides that I would have to go through security again. SHIT!
Fine. I don't need a cigarette anyway. (liar) We boarded the plane. This flight crew wasn't as friendly, but I figured I could deal. I have an excuse to be a bitch. I am pregnant, craving nicotine and I hate flying. We got settled and took off. It wasn't as bad as the first time. Felicia didn't beat the crap out of me, maybe the food settled her down. I didn't even mangle Jason's arm this time. Cool. I am so cool. Total cucumber, that is me!
We didn't really hit turbulence until we went over some huge mountain range off the coast of Canada. I wasn't sure where we were, honestly. I am just guessing. All I know is the mountains were beautiful! I was gazing out the window, imagining I was a beautiful bird, getting all "one with the earth" then suddenly some giant from hell grabbed the plane and shook it like a rattle. I almost screamed. Jason grabbed my hand and tried to talk me down. Felicia was kickboxing in my tummy and Kenny was laughing like he was on a roller coaster! The seat belt light came on and I was convinced that those stupid oxygen masks were going to drop and we were going to be portrayed in some movie ten years from now called The Dumb Pregnant Woman who got on the Plane. I started counting and breathing. Breathe in 1,2,3,4,5 Breathe out 1,2,3,4,5. When it was over, Jason's hand was bleeding in four places.
It was announced that we were coming into Anchorage. We flew over the airport on the approach. Hmm. That runway looks really sparkly. Now, when I was learning to drive my mother told me that if blacktop sparkles, there is a good chance that it is covered with ice or patchy black ice. My brain went to work on this info really fast. The tires on an airplane do not have chains nor studs. The tires on an airplane are tiny with little tread. The tires on an airplane suck!! We are going to land this big ass heavy plane on an icy surface only using these little stupid tires!! NO WAY BABE! I went into full freak mode. So much so that the attendant stopped by to check on us. I kept my voice to a whisper, but I am sure I wasn't as quiet as I thought I was. The conclusion that my wonderfully active imagination came to was simple. We are going to skid off the road into that proverbial tanker truck that must be parked at the end of every runway.
I kissed Kenny, closed my eyes, placed one hand on my belly and resumed crushing Jason's hand with the other. I tried to breathe. I tried to picture puppies or flowers instead of the slow motion movie of a burning plane in my head. I was tense from my toe nails to the hair follicles on my head. Felicia didn't even move. Then it was over. We landed. I took a deep breath. I let go of Jason's hand. I kissed Kenny. Then I said, "Get me the fuck off this plane and get me a damn cigarette!" Jason smiled, "I told you we would be fine." I wanted to kill him. He said, "I told my mom to meet us right outside of security with a lighter so you could have a smoke right away." We grabbed our carry-ons, got off the plane and followed the signs to the exit. I actually started to jog when I saw his mom on the other side of security, grinning, holding up the blue lighter. I simply mouthed,"thank you," as I flew by grabbing the lighter as if we were in a relay race. Jason was walking with Kenny at toddler pace and didn't even get to his mom until I was outside and into my fourth puff. I got a dirty look from some airport worker. She told me that the smoking area was at the end of the sidewalk in an old bus stop shelter. She pointed in the direction. Fine. I finished the cigarette on the way to the shelter and started another one when I got there!
Jason, Kenny and his mom walked in my direction inside the terminal. Kenny made faces at me through the window while Jason fetched our luggage from the round luggage thingie. We are in Alaska. One week before I have to get back on a plane. One week to psych myself out. I can do this. God, I suck at lying.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
To the Airport Jeeves
We get up at 2 a.m. to head out for the airport in Reno. It is an hours drive and of course we have to be there like way too damn early just in case there is a line at the security gate.
The night before we made sure that everything was packed. We had Kenny sleep in a sweatshirt and sweatpants so that we wouldn't look too pathetic walking around with a kid in a fuzzy red firetruck sleeper. Our clothes and shoes and such were ready to go, so that we simply had to get up, get dressed and head out the door. We grabbed Kenny out of bed last and tossed him into the truck. We were off.
We arrived at the airport early, which was a really good thing. We parked in the long term lot which means that we would have to walk like six hundred miles to the terminal. Now, I consider myself a pretty good "think-of-everything" kind of mom. I did my best to keep our "stuff to carry" at a minimum. I followed all the rules in packing. The liquid stuff was in a small amount in a plastic bag. All the way down to Kenny's diaper ointment. I left my lighter at home and brought matches that I can toss on the way in. Our shoes were easy on and off etc etc. Smart mom, huh?
This is where I want you to use your imagination. Picture it. One very pregnant woman who doesn't like to fly. One healthy man with only two arms who wants to make this trip easy for his pregnant wife. One 16 month old boy who needed to be carried since we were walking along and then across a four lane road in front of the terminal. Two large suitcases, one carseat, one large diaper bag, one carry on bag, one purse, three jackets (it was too warm to wear em at this point) and a cup of coffee. ( I must have my coffee).
This entourage slowly made it's way across the parking lot, onto the side walk, down the sidewalk, across the crosswalk, up the little incline, through the front doors, halfway to Siberia to find the check in counter, back to the baggage drop(lost the suitcases at the drop thank God), back to the check in counter where we checked in the carseat, then back out the front doors so that I could smoke a damned cigarette before I went postal. Along the way Kenny wiggled with excitement. I spilled half my coffee and poor Jason got a muscle cramp in his arm.
We are off to a good start huh?
The security gate was our next destination. We stood in line, Kenny wiggled and giggled and wanted to play, but we breezed through without much of a hitch. The only problem we ran into was while we were pulling our stuff out of our pockets and putting our shoes into the little tubs, Kenny took off. Oh Joy. Those in line behind us were mostly understanding. One lady gave me a dirty look and made a snotty comment. Jason saved her ass by grabbing my shoulder and pushing me through the detector thingie. I would like to think that I would have just made a comment back, but honestly I was more likely to punch the chick in the face. On the other side we put ourselves back together. Kenny again, took off. Luckily a young lady with an airline uniform on caught his attention and she chatted with him until we caught up. By the way. I forgot to toss my matches. They got through. :)
We had about an hour and a half before our flight was due to take off. I couldn't leave to smoke since we had already gotten through security, so I drank more coffee and ate a muffin. Kenny snacked with me and we did our best to be relaxed and ready. I didn't want this experience to be scary for Kenny, so I kept a fairly decent check on my nerves. Luckily they had a tv mounted on the wall so we handled the waiting thing pretty well.
The night before we made sure that everything was packed. We had Kenny sleep in a sweatshirt and sweatpants so that we wouldn't look too pathetic walking around with a kid in a fuzzy red firetruck sleeper. Our clothes and shoes and such were ready to go, so that we simply had to get up, get dressed and head out the door. We grabbed Kenny out of bed last and tossed him into the truck. We were off.
We arrived at the airport early, which was a really good thing. We parked in the long term lot which means that we would have to walk like six hundred miles to the terminal. Now, I consider myself a pretty good "think-of-everything" kind of mom. I did my best to keep our "stuff to carry" at a minimum. I followed all the rules in packing. The liquid stuff was in a small amount in a plastic bag. All the way down to Kenny's diaper ointment. I left my lighter at home and brought matches that I can toss on the way in. Our shoes were easy on and off etc etc. Smart mom, huh?
This is where I want you to use your imagination. Picture it. One very pregnant woman who doesn't like to fly. One healthy man with only two arms who wants to make this trip easy for his pregnant wife. One 16 month old boy who needed to be carried since we were walking along and then across a four lane road in front of the terminal. Two large suitcases, one carseat, one large diaper bag, one carry on bag, one purse, three jackets (it was too warm to wear em at this point) and a cup of coffee. ( I must have my coffee).
This entourage slowly made it's way across the parking lot, onto the side walk, down the sidewalk, across the crosswalk, up the little incline, through the front doors, halfway to Siberia to find the check in counter, back to the baggage drop(lost the suitcases at the drop thank God), back to the check in counter where we checked in the carseat, then back out the front doors so that I could smoke a damned cigarette before I went postal. Along the way Kenny wiggled with excitement. I spilled half my coffee and poor Jason got a muscle cramp in his arm.
We are off to a good start huh?
The security gate was our next destination. We stood in line, Kenny wiggled and giggled and wanted to play, but we breezed through without much of a hitch. The only problem we ran into was while we were pulling our stuff out of our pockets and putting our shoes into the little tubs, Kenny took off. Oh Joy. Those in line behind us were mostly understanding. One lady gave me a dirty look and made a snotty comment. Jason saved her ass by grabbing my shoulder and pushing me through the detector thingie. I would like to think that I would have just made a comment back, but honestly I was more likely to punch the chick in the face. On the other side we put ourselves back together. Kenny again, took off. Luckily a young lady with an airline uniform on caught his attention and she chatted with him until we caught up. By the way. I forgot to toss my matches. They got through. :)
We had about an hour and a half before our flight was due to take off. I couldn't leave to smoke since we had already gotten through security, so I drank more coffee and ate a muffin. Kenny snacked with me and we did our best to be relaxed and ready. I didn't want this experience to be scary for Kenny, so I kept a fairly decent check on my nerves. Luckily they had a tv mounted on the wall so we handled the waiting thing pretty well.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Plan in Action
**I don't remember if I mentioned it before. I guess I just didn't think about it. I do smoke and I did smoke through both of my pregnancies. I cut my consumption by more than half, but I just couldn't give them up totally. The one time I quit cold, I was about 2 months along with Kenny and my skin, blood pressure and overall health went to hell! Stress is a bad, but strong trigger of my psoriasis. After just two days without a cigarette, I was in a really bad place. We took our issue to the doctor and he told me that a few cigarettes a day would actually be better for the pregnancy than allowing my stress to get so bad that my psoriasis goes into full flare. A full on flare of my psoriasis (covering over 75% of my body) could cause a stroke. That would be WAY bad. So I smoked. I kept myself in check. I pissed off a lot of people who would see me wearing a "bun in the oven" shirt while I lit up, but I did everything else right and my kids are happy, healthy and perfect! (Judge me if you must) On with the story.**
We have a plan. Alaska or Oregon. We love our parents dearly, so they weren't really a factor. The decision needed to be based on how happy we would feel living in our chosen place. Job market for Jason. Climate for my psoriasis. Access to wonderful experiences for our children and our family as a whole.
We gave our parents the low down. For the most part both sets of parents were supportive, give or take a comment or two. You know how parents can be. Jason's mom and dad had offered us plane tickets years ago but we never took them up on it. Now was the time. We dove into making plans, scheduling flights and trying to put some extra money aside for the trip. By the end of September our itinerary was set. We would leave the 15th and return the 21st of October (don't hold me to the exact dates since I didn't write them in our journals). Jason's mom would pick us up in Anchorage and we should be at the house in Wasilla about an hour later. I kept my mind busy with planning. What to pack for Kenny. What to pack for ourselves. How to take the car seat. I poured over all the restrictions that had been put into place since 9-11 and started to get my lists written then slowly marked off.
As things started to be set solidly in stone I balked. We were supposed to leave in just over a week. You see, I don't like to fly. I had been trying to ignore this fact but it finally hit home. It has nothing to do with being in the air. I am not afraid of heights or speed. In fact, the one time I flew before...a small little private four-seater plane....I loved the freedom of it. I loved the view. The pilot was a friend of mine and he showed me all the neat gadgets and gauges. Nope, my problem is not being in control. I am a control freak. I do not trust my care nor the care of my family in the hands of another. If I could fly the plane everything would be fine. If I could sit in the cockpit where I was in reach of the controls in case something went wrong, I would be fine. This plan was stupid. No way. Can't do it. Ain't gonna. Nuh-uh. Why can't we just drive? I love to drive (by the way, I almost never let my hubby drive, control). Imagine all the beauty we would see on the drive! Oregon, Washington, Canada!! Jason will go for that, Right? I may even let him drive a little ways.
I spent days on end trying to figure out the best way to tell Jason that this trip isn't going to happen. I dropped slight hints reiterating my fear. He would smile and tell me that he was going to be right there with me. Hmm. I was going to have to get manipulative about this. There must be a way to convince him that flying was out. It hit me on the 8th of October. I even wrote my plan in my journal. We can't fly because the baby!! I am almost 8 months pregnant and there is no way in hell that the doctor is going to let me fly!! I mean come on. I am overweight, I smoke and stress is bad for me. I got it!
Just before Jason left for work on the 9th, I hit him with my well-thought out excuse. He actually rolled his eyes at me! "Make a doc appointment for tomorrow, then. We will see what he has to say," he says. Ok. I will. So I called the doctor, set up the appointment and fully believed that I was going to get my way. I relaxed. While Kenny was napping I got online and checked to see if there was a way to transfer or get a refund for the tickets we had purchased. I printed out the instructions and exceptions for a ticket transfer in case of "unavoidable" circumstances. A doctor telling me "no" was unavoidable, right? All I needed now was Jason to agree and then we could go from here.
October 10th. I met Jason at the doctor's office. We walked in, greeted the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. Jason asked me if I was nervous. Of course not! I knew with all my heart that the doctor isn't going to allow me to fly. The nurse called us in. She asked if there was something I was concerned about since this was not a pre-scheduled check up. I told her that we were planning a trip to Alaska and needed to get the doc's approval. Doctor Chacon came in. He asked the same question as the nurse. When I told him about the trip he grinned. HE ACTUALLY GRINNED!! He said," The whole thing about pregnant women not flying in the latter part of their pregnancies is really sort of a wives tale. Women can fly up until just a week or two before their due date safely. Some airlines put a restriction about how late into a pregnancy flying is ok, but that is mostly for liability purposes." WHAT!!! Ok wait, so I said, "Being that I am considered a high risk pregnancy because of my medical problems, my smoking and my skin, I shouldn't fly, Right?" He grinned again. I was really starting to hate grinning people. He said, "Let's check you out." I got poked and prodded. The baby and I were fine. In fact we are doing great according to the grinning pain-in-the-butt doctor. He went to the door, "Let me just get something real quick and then you guys can go."
While we waited I glared at Jason. He just grinned and tickled Kenny, "Ready to go to Alaska kiddo?" Kenny cooed back and I was ready to scream. The doctor came in and handed me a piece of paper. He said, "If you have any problem at check in with the airline concerning your pregnancy, show them this. They can call me if they need to, but I am sure everything will be fine. You guys have a great trip! I try to go to Alaska at least once a year and I love it there." This grinning fool just handed me a permission slip to fly! OH MY GOD! A permission slip. It contained basic info on my pregnancy, how far along, due date etc and a contact and emergency contact number in case there were complications while I was gone. HOLY CRAP! If this isn't proof that God has a sense of humor I don't know what is. I was so shocked I couldn't think. I couldn't talk.
We left the office and I finally found my wits while we were getting Kenny into my truck in the parking lot. Jason listened quietly to my ranting and raving. To my fears and concerns about the trip. When I was done, he simple said, "I will be right with you. We will be fine. We will have fun. Don't worry about it. Just think of why we are doing this. This is for our children." Great! Now he uses my own plan and my own children against me! Wonderful.
All the way home I took deep breaths and tried to relax. This is all my stupid fault in the first place! I am the one who started the ball rolling on our "plan" for a better life. I put Kenny down for a nap and sat on the couch staring into oblivion. Felicia started to kick and roll around in my tummy. I decided that this was just something I had to do. We are getting on a plane in 5 days. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. My new mantra.
We have a plan. Alaska or Oregon. We love our parents dearly, so they weren't really a factor. The decision needed to be based on how happy we would feel living in our chosen place. Job market for Jason. Climate for my psoriasis. Access to wonderful experiences for our children and our family as a whole.
We gave our parents the low down. For the most part both sets of parents were supportive, give or take a comment or two. You know how parents can be. Jason's mom and dad had offered us plane tickets years ago but we never took them up on it. Now was the time. We dove into making plans, scheduling flights and trying to put some extra money aside for the trip. By the end of September our itinerary was set. We would leave the 15th and return the 21st of October (don't hold me to the exact dates since I didn't write them in our journals). Jason's mom would pick us up in Anchorage and we should be at the house in Wasilla about an hour later. I kept my mind busy with planning. What to pack for Kenny. What to pack for ourselves. How to take the car seat. I poured over all the restrictions that had been put into place since 9-11 and started to get my lists written then slowly marked off.
As things started to be set solidly in stone I balked. We were supposed to leave in just over a week. You see, I don't like to fly. I had been trying to ignore this fact but it finally hit home. It has nothing to do with being in the air. I am not afraid of heights or speed. In fact, the one time I flew before...a small little private four-seater plane....I loved the freedom of it. I loved the view. The pilot was a friend of mine and he showed me all the neat gadgets and gauges. Nope, my problem is not being in control. I am a control freak. I do not trust my care nor the care of my family in the hands of another. If I could fly the plane everything would be fine. If I could sit in the cockpit where I was in reach of the controls in case something went wrong, I would be fine. This plan was stupid. No way. Can't do it. Ain't gonna. Nuh-uh. Why can't we just drive? I love to drive (by the way, I almost never let my hubby drive, control). Imagine all the beauty we would see on the drive! Oregon, Washington, Canada!! Jason will go for that, Right? I may even let him drive a little ways.
I spent days on end trying to figure out the best way to tell Jason that this trip isn't going to happen. I dropped slight hints reiterating my fear. He would smile and tell me that he was going to be right there with me. Hmm. I was going to have to get manipulative about this. There must be a way to convince him that flying was out. It hit me on the 8th of October. I even wrote my plan in my journal. We can't fly because the baby!! I am almost 8 months pregnant and there is no way in hell that the doctor is going to let me fly!! I mean come on. I am overweight, I smoke and stress is bad for me. I got it!
Just before Jason left for work on the 9th, I hit him with my well-thought out excuse. He actually rolled his eyes at me! "Make a doc appointment for tomorrow, then. We will see what he has to say," he says. Ok. I will. So I called the doctor, set up the appointment and fully believed that I was going to get my way. I relaxed. While Kenny was napping I got online and checked to see if there was a way to transfer or get a refund for the tickets we had purchased. I printed out the instructions and exceptions for a ticket transfer in case of "unavoidable" circumstances. A doctor telling me "no" was unavoidable, right? All I needed now was Jason to agree and then we could go from here.
October 10th. I met Jason at the doctor's office. We walked in, greeted the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. Jason asked me if I was nervous. Of course not! I knew with all my heart that the doctor isn't going to allow me to fly. The nurse called us in. She asked if there was something I was concerned about since this was not a pre-scheduled check up. I told her that we were planning a trip to Alaska and needed to get the doc's approval. Doctor Chacon came in. He asked the same question as the nurse. When I told him about the trip he grinned. HE ACTUALLY GRINNED!! He said," The whole thing about pregnant women not flying in the latter part of their pregnancies is really sort of a wives tale. Women can fly up until just a week or two before their due date safely. Some airlines put a restriction about how late into a pregnancy flying is ok, but that is mostly for liability purposes." WHAT!!! Ok wait, so I said, "Being that I am considered a high risk pregnancy because of my medical problems, my smoking and my skin, I shouldn't fly, Right?" He grinned again. I was really starting to hate grinning people. He said, "Let's check you out." I got poked and prodded. The baby and I were fine. In fact we are doing great according to the grinning pain-in-the-butt doctor. He went to the door, "Let me just get something real quick and then you guys can go."
While we waited I glared at Jason. He just grinned and tickled Kenny, "Ready to go to Alaska kiddo?" Kenny cooed back and I was ready to scream. The doctor came in and handed me a piece of paper. He said, "If you have any problem at check in with the airline concerning your pregnancy, show them this. They can call me if they need to, but I am sure everything will be fine. You guys have a great trip! I try to go to Alaska at least once a year and I love it there." This grinning fool just handed me a permission slip to fly! OH MY GOD! A permission slip. It contained basic info on my pregnancy, how far along, due date etc and a contact and emergency contact number in case there were complications while I was gone. HOLY CRAP! If this isn't proof that God has a sense of humor I don't know what is. I was so shocked I couldn't think. I couldn't talk.
We left the office and I finally found my wits while we were getting Kenny into my truck in the parking lot. Jason listened quietly to my ranting and raving. To my fears and concerns about the trip. When I was done, he simple said, "I will be right with you. We will be fine. We will have fun. Don't worry about it. Just think of why we are doing this. This is for our children." Great! Now he uses my own plan and my own children against me! Wonderful.
All the way home I took deep breaths and tried to relax. This is all my stupid fault in the first place! I am the one who started the ball rolling on our "plan" for a better life. I put Kenny down for a nap and sat on the couch staring into oblivion. Felicia started to kick and roll around in my tummy. I decided that this was just something I had to do. We are getting on a plane in 5 days. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. This is for my kids. My new mantra.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Moving on
I don't think it matters what age you are. There is always a part of you that firmly believes your heroes, your parents and your passions never die. They are immortal. They are invincible. Soon comes the day when reality smacks you in the face and when you open your eyes there you are, left alone in a dark room with no possibility of finding your way out.
Eventually you find the door. Sometimes it finds you. How impossible it seems to hope that someday you can forgive and forget those darts that fate threw into your heart. I doubt I will ever be able to fully let go of those feelings of anger and frustration at watching my hero slowly fade away. Move on, I tell myself. This is life, I tell myself. Life is a cycle, I tell myself. "Myself" wasn't listening. Then the door found me. My light smacked me just as hard as reality did. My light, my son, my daughter.
I sat on the floor, feeling Felicia kick my internal organs (leave my bladder alone!!) while I tickled and wrestled with Kenny. He was learning to walk and he felt so proud of himself now that he had the ability to scamper away from me. This new-found freedom he had, opened so much of the world for him to explore that he could not explore before. I sat on the floor watching Kenny and I started to cry. My grandmother never got a chance to see Kenny walk. A milestone missed.
Suddenly I felt indignant. This is not right. I grew up looking forward to visiting my grandparents who only lived half hour away. I knew who they were. I grew up seeing them every holiday. I worked my ass of in school because if I got straight "A's", grandma and grandpa would take me out for ice cream. We went camping and fishing with my grandparents. They came to my softball games. Grandma taught me to play cards, to properly set a table, how to love family regardless of "bumps" in the road. She encouraged me to do crafty things. She supported my ideas, my dreams and always listened to me when I had something to say. Grandpa taught me how to cheat at cards, how to properly use my middle finger (at age 2!), how to make a martini, how to tell a story (although I use a little less flare and hand gestures) and to appreciate history. Who is going to provide these memories for my children?
The question. What the hell was I doing raising my kids in Nevada where they will get the chance to see their grandparents only once a year? We were in Nevada. My parents were in Oregon. Jason's parents were in Alaska. What are we doing?
That night, I kept Jason up way past his preferred bedtime. I needed to talk. The door had opened and in the light I saw that fate may have broken my heart, but fate also had a hand in helping me become a mom. I now needed to look in the mirror and decide what this mom was going to do to provide the best possible life for these children. I am not talking about giving them material things, I am talking about giving them tangible, life affirming memories and relationships.
Jason and I talked and talked for more that a week. He admitted that he wasn't happy working for the state. He felt like there was really nowhere to go in a job where you basically had to wait for someone to retire before you could move up, regardless of your performance on the job. We both weren't too excited about the climate of Nevada. We loved a lot of people there, but were we happy? Is this where we want to live for the next 30 years? Response, no.
Ok, we have a consensus. We agree that we want our kids to know their grandparents. They deserve to have that connection. We agree that Nevada is beautiful, but not for us. So the next question is which set of grandparents are we going to move closer to?
We spoke to Jason's parents. They asked that we come up for a visit since I had never been to Alaska before. Get a feel for the state, the job market, the people, the beauty. Sure. Ok. I can do that. Visit for a week. Then maybe we can plan a visit to Oregon too. Weigh our options, our feelings and make a decision that we feel is best for our growing family. This is a plan. This is a good plan. This is moving on as a direct result of what I learned from someone I had lost.
Eventually you find the door. Sometimes it finds you. How impossible it seems to hope that someday you can forgive and forget those darts that fate threw into your heart. I doubt I will ever be able to fully let go of those feelings of anger and frustration at watching my hero slowly fade away. Move on, I tell myself. This is life, I tell myself. Life is a cycle, I tell myself. "Myself" wasn't listening. Then the door found me. My light smacked me just as hard as reality did. My light, my son, my daughter.
I sat on the floor, feeling Felicia kick my internal organs (leave my bladder alone!!) while I tickled and wrestled with Kenny. He was learning to walk and he felt so proud of himself now that he had the ability to scamper away from me. This new-found freedom he had, opened so much of the world for him to explore that he could not explore before. I sat on the floor watching Kenny and I started to cry. My grandmother never got a chance to see Kenny walk. A milestone missed.
Suddenly I felt indignant. This is not right. I grew up looking forward to visiting my grandparents who only lived half hour away. I knew who they were. I grew up seeing them every holiday. I worked my ass of in school because if I got straight "A's", grandma and grandpa would take me out for ice cream. We went camping and fishing with my grandparents. They came to my softball games. Grandma taught me to play cards, to properly set a table, how to love family regardless of "bumps" in the road. She encouraged me to do crafty things. She supported my ideas, my dreams and always listened to me when I had something to say. Grandpa taught me how to cheat at cards, how to properly use my middle finger (at age 2!), how to make a martini, how to tell a story (although I use a little less flare and hand gestures) and to appreciate history. Who is going to provide these memories for my children?
The question. What the hell was I doing raising my kids in Nevada where they will get the chance to see their grandparents only once a year? We were in Nevada. My parents were in Oregon. Jason's parents were in Alaska. What are we doing?
That night, I kept Jason up way past his preferred bedtime. I needed to talk. The door had opened and in the light I saw that fate may have broken my heart, but fate also had a hand in helping me become a mom. I now needed to look in the mirror and decide what this mom was going to do to provide the best possible life for these children. I am not talking about giving them material things, I am talking about giving them tangible, life affirming memories and relationships.
Jason and I talked and talked for more that a week. He admitted that he wasn't happy working for the state. He felt like there was really nowhere to go in a job where you basically had to wait for someone to retire before you could move up, regardless of your performance on the job. We both weren't too excited about the climate of Nevada. We loved a lot of people there, but were we happy? Is this where we want to live for the next 30 years? Response, no.
Ok, we have a consensus. We agree that we want our kids to know their grandparents. They deserve to have that connection. We agree that Nevada is beautiful, but not for us. So the next question is which set of grandparents are we going to move closer to?
We spoke to Jason's parents. They asked that we come up for a visit since I had never been to Alaska before. Get a feel for the state, the job market, the people, the beauty. Sure. Ok. I can do that. Visit for a week. Then maybe we can plan a visit to Oregon too. Weigh our options, our feelings and make a decision that we feel is best for our growing family. This is a plan. This is a good plan. This is moving on as a direct result of what I learned from someone I had lost.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Roses
Roses. When I was a young child I truly believed that roses only bloomed for my grandmother. We had roses in our garden at home, but they were small and colorless compared to the giant, beautiful, sweet smelling, magical blossoms that grew in the gardens my grandmother tended. My grandparents had moved a couple of times during my life, and at each home a rose garden seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sure, this is childhood fantasy you say. Well that isn't entirely true. The roses my grandmother grew were so large and so perfectly gorgeous, neighbors and strangers would stop and stare at these bushes in awe.
When I found out that my grandmother was officially going into hospice care on Aug 16, 2006, I almost fell to my knees. That is the day we are scheduled for the sonogram to find out the sex of our baby. How am I supposed to handle joy and pain in such high doses in the same 24 hours?
Our appointment was set around noon time as usual so that Jason could take a long lunch and meet me at the doc's office. We went into the room and I got myself prepped for the event. I tried as hard as I could to focus on what was going on in the here and now, but I couldn't get roses out of my head. The textures, colors were so vivid, I felt as if I could close my eyes and pluck one from my mind. The ultrasound tech came into the room and gooed me up. She was excited to see Kenny in person rather than through the computer screen. The exam started normally, size, weight, formation etc. Everything was fine. She commented on the baby's movement. "This one is very very active!" Trust me, I knew this baby was a little on the excited side. I had felt this one's kicks earlier and where Kenny's sleep and awake cycles were predictable, this one seemed to never sleep!
The technician wandered around my belly for a few more minutes then stopped and turned the computer screen towards me. She said, "So can you tell what this one is?" I searched the screen for the little "taco" shape but couldn't find it. It was all a blur to me. I said, "I know it is a girl, but I can't tell. Am I wrong?" The technician giggled and pointed out the "taco" to me. "It is a girl! A happy, dancing, maybe even a little tempermental girl!!"
My heart leapt! A girl. A GIRL!! I knew it! Tears started streaming from my eyes. A girl. I already knew her name. I had picked it out long ago. I couldn't wait to tell my family. I couldn't wait to go and talk to my grandmother (she raised 7 girls by the way)!
As we were leaving the office I grabbed the cell and started the calls. I called Carol first. She screamed and cried with joy. The first thing she said was, "Now you have your Felicia Lorraine!! I am so happy for you, Paula!" This of course started my tears all over again. I called my mother and Jason called his. Everyone was so happy.
Jason asked if I wanted to go to lunch. Nope. I want to go see my grandma. So, we headed back into town. In my excitement I had forgotten that today was the day hospice was delivering the hospital bed and setting up all the things needed for grandma's care. I pulled into the drive and parked. Walking through the gate I passed the beautiful yellow roses that we helped her plant just last year. Grandma was so unsure that these roses were going to survive because the root ball had been damaged. They were so bright, vibrant and beautiful. A year later and the plant had tripled in size. I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I walked into the house and met my aunt. I told her I was having a girl. She grinned. I could see it in her eyes that she couldn't wait to buy the poofy dresses and dolls for the baby. Still, she was busy getting things organized so we didn't talk much. I asked her where grandma was. She told my that she was in her room and that she was tired and a little confused so she asked that only I head down the hall and to be quick. I left Kenny with Jason, passed the newly set up bed in the living room and made my way to see the woman who has inspired so much in me. The woman that never lost hope for me. The woman who encouraged me.
**Please understand that I am now in full on cry mode, so if the rest of this post doesn't make much sense, I am sorry. I just want to get it out and done. **
I walked into her room and saw her on the bed. She was a little shaky and her head was low. She looked so small. My uncle was sitting with her. He told me that she may not recognize me right now because the comotion of the day has gotten her confused. I told him I needed to talk to her. I sat next to her. I held her hand. I said, "Hi grandma. I have some news for you." She looked up at me with no sparkle in her eye. Don't ask me how I held it together. "Grandma, I am about 4 months along in my pregnancy and today we saw the doctor". She cocked her head a little, smiled and said, "Hi Paula. How are you feeling today?" The sparkle was there!! She was back!! I felt I had to hurry. I needed her to hear what I had to say. " Grandma, the doctor did a sonogram today and we found out that we are having a girl!" She smiled, "That is wonderful, Paula." I went on, "Grandma, I love you so much and I want you to know that we are going to name her Felicia Lorraine and I hope with my heart that she grows up to be as beautiful as you." She tilted her head again, smiled and said in a weak voice, "That would be wonderful, Paula." I fought back the tears as I watched her lower her head again. She let go of my hand. I looked over at my uncle. He just looked at me sadly. He told me congratulations for the baby girl and told me grandma needed to rest.
I left the room and almost ran out of the house. Again, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
A few days later I went to see her again. She recognized me for just a slight moment then referred to me by my mother's name. I watched her sleep and spoke with my aunt for a while. The hospice people were giving her a week. We chatted a little longer and then I headed home.
The day before my grandmother died, I was allowed to spend a few moments alone with her. She slept the whole time. She twitched in pain while she slept. I cannot begin to imagine how I would ever describe the horror and anger I felt. This vibrant and strong woman who has lived through light and dark times with her capacity to love and give still intact does not deserve to spend her last days so thin and frail in pain and confusion!
I pulled the chair closer to the bed. I gently lay my hand over hers. As the tears litterally poured from my eyes I told her this (at least as best as I can remember). "Grandma, you have brought more beauty to this world than anyone before you. I have learned so much from you and I am a better person because of you. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You kept a family together with your kindness and quiet generosity. I hate to see you hurting. We all have learned to love because of you. I want you to do what you need to do for you now. We will all be ok and we will all remember what you have taught us. If you need to go so that there is no more pain, then go. I love you so much. But, if you need to jump off that bed and go dancing, I will be right there with you. I love you grandma. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you. "
Yes, part of me feels guilty for telling her to go if she wanted. Part of me felt like it was the best thing I could have done. Yes, just about all of me wanted her to jump off that table and go dancing.
My grandmother, Violet Lorraine passed away on Aug 25th. She lived her life and taught us how to live ours. I know that the roses still grow in that garden. I know that the yellow ones in the front, near the gate are larger and still as beautiful as ever. I know because my heart tells me this is true.
**I have spit this out as best I can. I am sure that it isn't written well but I am happy that it is done. I don't want to re read it now, so I am just going to hit the publish button and hope that my spelling is correct. **
When I found out that my grandmother was officially going into hospice care on Aug 16, 2006, I almost fell to my knees. That is the day we are scheduled for the sonogram to find out the sex of our baby. How am I supposed to handle joy and pain in such high doses in the same 24 hours?
Our appointment was set around noon time as usual so that Jason could take a long lunch and meet me at the doc's office. We went into the room and I got myself prepped for the event. I tried as hard as I could to focus on what was going on in the here and now, but I couldn't get roses out of my head. The textures, colors were so vivid, I felt as if I could close my eyes and pluck one from my mind. The ultrasound tech came into the room and gooed me up. She was excited to see Kenny in person rather than through the computer screen. The exam started normally, size, weight, formation etc. Everything was fine. She commented on the baby's movement. "This one is very very active!" Trust me, I knew this baby was a little on the excited side. I had felt this one's kicks earlier and where Kenny's sleep and awake cycles were predictable, this one seemed to never sleep!
The technician wandered around my belly for a few more minutes then stopped and turned the computer screen towards me. She said, "So can you tell what this one is?" I searched the screen for the little "taco" shape but couldn't find it. It was all a blur to me. I said, "I know it is a girl, but I can't tell. Am I wrong?" The technician giggled and pointed out the "taco" to me. "It is a girl! A happy, dancing, maybe even a little tempermental girl!!"
My heart leapt! A girl. A GIRL!! I knew it! Tears started streaming from my eyes. A girl. I already knew her name. I had picked it out long ago. I couldn't wait to tell my family. I couldn't wait to go and talk to my grandmother (she raised 7 girls by the way)!
As we were leaving the office I grabbed the cell and started the calls. I called Carol first. She screamed and cried with joy. The first thing she said was, "Now you have your Felicia Lorraine!! I am so happy for you, Paula!" This of course started my tears all over again. I called my mother and Jason called his. Everyone was so happy.
Jason asked if I wanted to go to lunch. Nope. I want to go see my grandma. So, we headed back into town. In my excitement I had forgotten that today was the day hospice was delivering the hospital bed and setting up all the things needed for grandma's care. I pulled into the drive and parked. Walking through the gate I passed the beautiful yellow roses that we helped her plant just last year. Grandma was so unsure that these roses were going to survive because the root ball had been damaged. They were so bright, vibrant and beautiful. A year later and the plant had tripled in size. I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I walked into the house and met my aunt. I told her I was having a girl. She grinned. I could see it in her eyes that she couldn't wait to buy the poofy dresses and dolls for the baby. Still, she was busy getting things organized so we didn't talk much. I asked her where grandma was. She told my that she was in her room and that she was tired and a little confused so she asked that only I head down the hall and to be quick. I left Kenny with Jason, passed the newly set up bed in the living room and made my way to see the woman who has inspired so much in me. The woman that never lost hope for me. The woman who encouraged me.
**Please understand that I am now in full on cry mode, so if the rest of this post doesn't make much sense, I am sorry. I just want to get it out and done. **
I walked into her room and saw her on the bed. She was a little shaky and her head was low. She looked so small. My uncle was sitting with her. He told me that she may not recognize me right now because the comotion of the day has gotten her confused. I told him I needed to talk to her. I sat next to her. I held her hand. I said, "Hi grandma. I have some news for you." She looked up at me with no sparkle in her eye. Don't ask me how I held it together. "Grandma, I am about 4 months along in my pregnancy and today we saw the doctor". She cocked her head a little, smiled and said, "Hi Paula. How are you feeling today?" The sparkle was there!! She was back!! I felt I had to hurry. I needed her to hear what I had to say. " Grandma, the doctor did a sonogram today and we found out that we are having a girl!" She smiled, "That is wonderful, Paula." I went on, "Grandma, I love you so much and I want you to know that we are going to name her Felicia Lorraine and I hope with my heart that she grows up to be as beautiful as you." She tilted her head again, smiled and said in a weak voice, "That would be wonderful, Paula." I fought back the tears as I watched her lower her head again. She let go of my hand. I looked over at my uncle. He just looked at me sadly. He told me congratulations for the baby girl and told me grandma needed to rest.
I left the room and almost ran out of the house. Again, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
A few days later I went to see her again. She recognized me for just a slight moment then referred to me by my mother's name. I watched her sleep and spoke with my aunt for a while. The hospice people were giving her a week. We chatted a little longer and then I headed home.
The day before my grandmother died, I was allowed to spend a few moments alone with her. She slept the whole time. She twitched in pain while she slept. I cannot begin to imagine how I would ever describe the horror and anger I felt. This vibrant and strong woman who has lived through light and dark times with her capacity to love and give still intact does not deserve to spend her last days so thin and frail in pain and confusion!
I pulled the chair closer to the bed. I gently lay my hand over hers. As the tears litterally poured from my eyes I told her this (at least as best as I can remember). "Grandma, you have brought more beauty to this world than anyone before you. I have learned so much from you and I am a better person because of you. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You kept a family together with your kindness and quiet generosity. I hate to see you hurting. We all have learned to love because of you. I want you to do what you need to do for you now. We will all be ok and we will all remember what you have taught us. If you need to go so that there is no more pain, then go. I love you so much. But, if you need to jump off that bed and go dancing, I will be right there with you. I love you grandma. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you. "
Yes, part of me feels guilty for telling her to go if she wanted. Part of me felt like it was the best thing I could have done. Yes, just about all of me wanted her to jump off that table and go dancing.
My grandmother, Violet Lorraine passed away on Aug 25th. She lived her life and taught us how to live ours. I know that the roses still grow in that garden. I know that the yellow ones in the front, near the gate are larger and still as beautiful as ever. I know because my heart tells me this is true.
**I have spit this out as best I can. I am sure that it isn't written well but I am happy that it is done. I don't want to re read it now, so I am just going to hit the publish button and hope that my spelling is correct. **
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Kid-Tastrophe
I am now a firm believer that your state of mind does affect fate. In my last post I mentioned that the only thing to keep me from writing my next "Felicia post" would be a catastrophe of childlike proportions. Well, it happened.
My son decided that it would be fun to drive the entire weight of his body into that spot between my shoulder blade and neck via his elbow. He is fine. I am not. That muscular part of the body doesn't seem to enjoy a 3 1/2 yr old pointy elbow being driven by force into it's delicate tissue.
I am living on Motrin and the heating pad. It hurts to even type. So, this is a short post to let you know that I will be back soon. Just in case "fate" is listening, I WILL BE BACK TOMORROW AFTERNOON TO WRITE ME POST BECAUSE NOTHING WILL STOP ME. OH, AND IT WILL BE THE BEST POST EVER WRITTEN. OH, AND I WILL WIN THE LOTTERY JACKPOT TOO.
There. That should work. :)
My son decided that it would be fun to drive the entire weight of his body into that spot between my shoulder blade and neck via his elbow. He is fine. I am not. That muscular part of the body doesn't seem to enjoy a 3 1/2 yr old pointy elbow being driven by force into it's delicate tissue.
I am living on Motrin and the heating pad. It hurts to even type. So, this is a short post to let you know that I will be back soon. Just in case "fate" is listening, I WILL BE BACK TOMORROW AFTERNOON TO WRITE ME POST BECAUSE NOTHING WILL STOP ME. OH, AND IT WILL BE THE BEST POST EVER WRITTEN. OH, AND I WILL WIN THE LOTTERY JACKPOT TOO.
There. That should work. :)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Holidays, Computers, Getting Back
So, did you miss me? I sure missed writing. Missed it much more than I thought I would. My mind pondered constantly about how to go on with our story.
Holidays. You gotta love the season! My son is now old enough to understand at least in part what Christmas is about. That made it so awesome for me. I taught him "Jingle Bells," "Santa's Coming to Town," and constantly bombarded him with every Christmas movie that aired on the TV. In 20 years he will be sitting on stage of the Oprah show tearfully explaining how his nutcase mother drove him to standing on the roof of some building dropping old fruitcakes on the heads of anyone wearing a Santa Hat! Ok, I admit that it may be Jerry Springer, but the fall out will be no less extensive.
I did all the baking I had promised. I couldn't have done it without my husband's help. He was, of course rewarded with a thicker waistline, but he never complained.
Our lovely computer came down with a cold last week. I believe it was a spyware thingie. Jason, being a nerd and wonderful man has been able to get that all squared away so I am back to writing.
The next post is going to be difficult for me. If you have been reading along so far you know it will include losing someone who was a pivotal part of my life. She was not standing next to me everyday, but she was standing somewhere, strong, vital and special. My grandmother.
So, I will be back tomarrow barring a catastrophe of childlike proportions.
Holidays. You gotta love the season! My son is now old enough to understand at least in part what Christmas is about. That made it so awesome for me. I taught him "Jingle Bells," "Santa's Coming to Town," and constantly bombarded him with every Christmas movie that aired on the TV. In 20 years he will be sitting on stage of the Oprah show tearfully explaining how his nutcase mother drove him to standing on the roof of some building dropping old fruitcakes on the heads of anyone wearing a Santa Hat! Ok, I admit that it may be Jerry Springer, but the fall out will be no less extensive.
I did all the baking I had promised. I couldn't have done it without my husband's help. He was, of course rewarded with a thicker waistline, but he never complained.
Our lovely computer came down with a cold last week. I believe it was a spyware thingie. Jason, being a nerd and wonderful man has been able to get that all squared away so I am back to writing.
The next post is going to be difficult for me. If you have been reading along so far you know it will include losing someone who was a pivotal part of my life. She was not standing next to me everyday, but she was standing somewhere, strong, vital and special. My grandmother.
So, I will be back tomarrow barring a catastrophe of childlike proportions.
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