Tag Archives: kid

Mother’s Day, 2007

Good morning Everyone!

Kayla came to live with us the year I turned 40.  She was three. I noticed immediately that I was usually the oldest mother in any gathering, but I didn’t know that Kayla had noticed it too.

The year she turned five her day care held a Mother’s Day lunch, and of course I went.   I arrived bright and early with my camera, to find the tables neatly decorated with tablecloths, flowers planted in styrofoam cups for decoration, and signs taped to each chair.  The signs were drawn by each child, and were meant to mark their mother’s place.  I found my place adorned with the following sign:


It said: 

My Mom is 100 years old.

She has Brown hair and brown eyes.

My mom’s favorite color is all colors.

She likes to eat salad the best.

I make my mom happy when I hug her.

My mom always says I love you.

My mom is so smart she can read.

I love it when my mom and I hug.

I laughed until I cried over the age; it was even funnier when I overheard one mother, who was roaming the tables looking at the signs tell another mother “Oh, look, that mom’s child put her age at 80” and the other mom say, “Well, some poor woman’s child listed her age at 100!” 

It won’t surprise anyone out there, I am sure, to learn that the sign is still in my closet, hidden away for posterity.

Have a great day everyone!


Surgery, Storms and Sleep (or the lack thereof!)

Good morning everyone! 

I had what I guess counts as major surgery on Tuesday and I have to admit, since I’d never had any surgery or general anesthesia before, I was a little scared. 

I shouldn’t have been though.  It wasn’t too very long after I was led back to pre-op that I was given a shot of something called “Versed” which basically put me to sleep until about 20 minutes before surgery.  It really was amazing how quickly the entire pre-op room got quiet (there were maybe eight of us in curtained off little sections) as soon as each of us got our shots.   

I woke up about 20 minutes before surgery, in time to remember being wheeled on the gurney from the pre-op room and telling the man who was wheeling me into surgery that I had never seen the world from that perspective before. 

I also remember looking at the machine in the corner of the operating room that was going to help do the laparoscopic surgery robotically and telling two of the OR nurses that the machine looked like an octopus.  If I had known whether they had seen Spiderman II, I could have been more precise and told them that it looked like the arms to Dr. Ock, but I wasn’t certain they would know.  (My doctor told me later that I was right; the machine did look like an octopus!) 

As one of the nurses was working to get my feet positioned correctly, the anesthetist told me she was going to give me a shot of pure oxygen for a few seconds, so I dutifully breathed in and out, and then she gave me another mask and said that whatever I was breathing next would make me sleepy.  I remember breathing into the second mask for maybe a second.  The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room, and asking the recovery room nurse if I was being polite. 

She half laughed (I suspect if you are a nurse in a recovery room, you must sign some kind of non-disclosure agreement, since there’s no telling what comes out of the mouths of recovering patients), and asked if normally I wasn’t polite.  I tried to explain to her that I was actually very polite normally, but I wanted to be sure I was still being polite since I wasn’t exactly my normal self.  What came out was a croaked “important to be polite.”  She agreed with me that it was.

After that, I decided to stop trying to make conversation for a while until the young man came in who was going to wheel me up to my room.  (His name was Justin.)  I was a little more awake then, I think, because I can remember chatting with him about how long had he been working at the hospital and did he like it and such until the gurney reached the surgery waiting room where my husband and mom joined me as we went up to the room.  I chatted up a good number of other hospital employees while I was under the influence of whatever they had given me, but I did enjoy learning about them.  

For example, Carolyn, who took my vital signs during the day, has a daughter who is getting her master’s in social work.  Carolyn works three 12 hour shifts during the week and is off for the rest of the week which is important to her because she wants to take part in her church activities on Sunday.  She worked from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., and her third trip to my room at 7:15 was her last act before leaving for the day.  My night nurse, Anna, has an 11 year old son, and knew all about the five second rule, which we discussed when I dropped one of my tablets onto the bed covers.  


Mom left about 2 on Tuesday, soon after I was in the room, to go walk the dogs and pick up Kayla from school, take her to dinner and then bring her by for a minute.  (I was in a hospital about 45 minutes from the house.)  I think Kayla was both a little scared and a little relieved to be at the hospital.  She had made me a get well card, which of course I saved, and had to know exactly what each and every tube coming out of me, or every sticker on me, was and she wanted to see my incisions. 

The funniest one to explain was the catheter; Mark handled that with her outside the room, but then she came in and looked at me and said, “So you really have your own port-o-potty with you?”  As usual, she had all of us laughing.  I told her I wouldn’t have one for long, though, and thank goodness I didn’t!

While I was … uhhh.. shall we say under the influence of whatever I was under the influence of, my body really hadn’t noticed that anything was done to it.  It wasn’t too long before I felt able to stand and walk a little bit (about 8 hours after surgery Mark, a nurse and I were strolling the halls for about two laps at 9:00 p.m.) and I was dressed and ready to leave for the house by 7 the next day. 

However, I have noticed in my clients at work and in family members, a curious fact about surgery – the pain, for some reason, is at its worst on the third day after surgery.  I am not sure whether or not Thursday, yesterday, was the third day or not. 

The surgery was Tuesday, so is the third day Thursday, as in Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday, or is it Friday, as in I shouldn’t count Tuesday and then go Wednesday-Thursday-Friday?  I’m pretty sure only I could make something so simple so complicated.

I do know that yesterday was the day on which my body suddenly realized that something had gone on inside it that it didn’t really appreciate.  In revenge, it produced pain, which I controlled with medication, mostly Tylenol at least until night-time, and kept trying to get me take naps.  (I have to admit, I didn’t fight the nap thing too hard, at least until I had the dream about adopting 9 children from a children’s home that was about to lose funding for those 9 spots!)  My brain, in sympathy with the rest of my body, refused to cooperate on clear thinking, either.  I had to keep searching for words that I couldn’t quite remember.   For a writer, that is not fun!

Mark spent the night at the hospital with me, in a recliner, so he had the pleasure of being woken up about every hour and a half for something just like I was, but the nurses were very nice and just trying to do their job.  Both he and I appreciated how attentive and kind all of the staff at the hospital was. 

I think my Mom got the worst of the deal that evening, since she and a still semi-scared 9-year-0ld girl went home Tuesday night to three dogs who absolutely refused to believe that neither Mark nor I would be home that night.  I don’t know what time they all got to sleep but Tyra apparently slept by the front door for a long time, convinced we would come in at any moment, and Darwin and Mandy were certain Mom was hiding Mark and I in our bedroom. 

I do know when they woke up for the first time on Wednesday – at 4:20 a.m., when an unexpected thunderstorm came through.  All 90 pounds of Darwin sailed onto Mom’s bed, waking her up, with another 55 pounds of Mandy approaching from the side, and Kayla coming out of her room, all of them announcing that the thunder had begun!  Mom said it was the funniest thing to have Darwin’s huge Great Dane frame with his lab face staring anxiously down at her as she woke up.

Darwin, the look-out

Have a great day everyone!


The Rewards of Patience

Hi Everyone!

I hope you had a great weekend! 

Thursday night, I had to work extraordinarily late – until 10:15 at night.  Because Kayla is attending day camp here where I work, and Mark was out of town that night, she got to stay at the office with me, and I have to say that she waited about as patiently as you could ask a nine-year old to do.  She played lawyer for a while, interrogating imaginary people  on a play phone, read a little bit, drew pictures and kept herself occupied for five hours so I could concentrate on my e-filing. 

I was so proud of her, and so grateful for her patience that I decided to schedule Saturday morning to take her to get her hair done and to get a manicure and pedicure.  I explained to her Friday night what we were doing Saturday and why, and she turned to me with her eyes wide and asked, “All that for one patience?”  Visions of shelling out her entire college savings to her as rewards for such things as waiting two or three minutes before interrupting Mark and I dancing in my head, I told her quickly not to get used to it!  She thought that was funny.

Saturday morning, she popped out of her room at 7:00 fully dressed announcing,” I’m ready to go be made beautiful!”  She was a little early, but by 8:30, we headed out to the salon as we had to be there at 9.  I had planned about an hour and 15 minutes for the hair and scheduled the nail appointment accordingly, planning that Kayla would ask for her hair to be blown straight.  She has never  once  walked into a salon and asked for her hair to be more curly – until Saturday.  The lady cutting her hair had naturally curly hair in tight ringlets cascading down her back, and that was the look that Kayla wanted.  (Kayla told the stylist that she had always wanted curly hair.  I nearly fell out of my chair laughing!)   They managed to come up with a way to do it, but it took a little longer than we expected. 

Towards the end, I got a chance to take some pictures of Kayla while she was “on the chair.” 

I think I like it!


Uh Oh! She's taking my picture....


Maybe if I ignore her she will stop it!

Oh well, I'll have a good time anyhow even if she is taking my picture!

The pictures alone were worth the entire expedition, but we also got our nails done, and I got a real kick watching her explore the mysteries of the Spa Massage Chair she was sitting in!

Have a great day everyone!


Spring and the Call that all Working Mothers Groan At

Spring is definitely starting to make an appearance in this part of Alabama.  This morning I saw my first blooming daffodils (they always seem to just pop up overnight) and my first tulip trees starting to bloom.  I haven’t seen any yellow bells (fuchsia to those more horticulturally minded) but if the daffodils are blooming they can’t be too far behind!  Even if the cold weather returns, I am going to enjoy these first signs of spring for as long as I can.

Today I got the phone call that makes every working mother groan.  It never comes on a day when I have nothing to do, when it is convenient for me to deal with, or when no projects are pending.  No, this phone call always chooses to come usually 1) right after I have taken a day off; 2) when lots of stuff is going on at work, and 3) when a project is due.  You guessed it – the school called to tell me that Kayla wasn’t feeling well.  The nurse let me talk to Kayla, which always brings forth the most pitiful little voice on the voice saying, “Hi Mama!”  which makes you feel like the meanest mom in the world if you dare to tell her she has to stick it out for the whole day. 

She had a very bad headache that had lasted all day, and the school can’t go ahead and give her any Tylenol because it violates school policy.  She hasn’t gone to the nurse nearly as much as she did last year, so I broke the “no fever/no stay” rule in hopes that I could get the sinus problem taken care of today so that we’re not dealing with these headaches for the next 8 weeks.  She was a little surprised to find out that coming home sick when Mom still has to work has all kinds of unpleasant little rules like “you must lay down in your room with the light off until 3 p.m.”, “no, you don’t get to watch the rest of Beezus and Ramona when you come home sick,” and “no, girls do not get to call their friends when they come home sick.”  She has taken most of the rules with very good grace, though, and we even survived working through her homework on “deckimals” today!  I will be working “second shift” tonight, but at least she is feeling better!