When I am 16 y/o, I am going to have a baby in my belly...

   Let it be known, that no matter which child told me this statement, I would be horrified.  Of course, to add a strange little twist, my son announced this in the car yesterday.  Hold up there little dude, I think mommy has some more explaining to do...
   Let it also be known that Colin is under the impression that 16 y/o is "very old."  He seems to think this particular age is "grown up."  I certainly hope it has nothing to do with the horrific phenomenon of MTV's 16 and pregnant.  I am sure it is just a coincidence...I hope it is, since I have never even watched that program.  So our conversation went something like this.

Colin  "Mommy...You know what??"
Me "What's up little dude?"
Colin  "When I am sixteen years old, I am going to have a baby in my belly."
(insert sounds of mommy choking on her Coke Zero, and spewing a little on the windshield)
Me  "Well, that would be pretty difficult buddy.  You see, only girls can have babies in their bellies.  we have talked about this before.  Boys can't grow babies in their bellies."
Colin  "Ohhhh...Well, can Molly have a baby in her belly when she is sixteen years old??  She is a girl."
(more obvious choking sounds from the front seat)
Me  "Nope, not if she wants to live to make it into college..."
Colin  "But why Mommy??"
Me  "Well, I know you think 16 y/o is a grown up, but mommy would really prefer if you and Molly waited have kids until you were much older."
Colin  "OK Mommy.  Can you grow a baby for me in your belly??"
(more choking sounds...I was obviously not supposed to finish that drink)

   I hope that conversation goes just as well in high school.  Dear Lord, I am not looking forward to those years...Now I am off to figure out why Molly has no pants on right now.  When I asked her she simply said "I don't know, but I have my pink wankie, so it's OK."  I can't keep her pants on now.  I am doomed during the teen years :)

Random thoughts this morning...

  So, as I am driving my son to preschool, peacefully sipping my coffee, I had several random thoughts enter my brain.  I know, I know...why am I thinking before 9 am and before I finish my coffee??  You would be right to ask that question.  So here goes the random stream of thoughts attempting to escape my brain this morning.

1)  God bless the person who invented seat warmers.  There is nothing better than being warmed from the bum up.  I laughed and thought they were a useless feature here in Georgia, but dude, they rock.

2)  Why is it no matter what time I wake up, it is impossible to leave my house on time??  No matter how many children I have to get ready...

3)  Why is it that I can leave my house at the same time every day, give or take 5 minutes, and I can be anywhere from 5 minutes early, to 15 minutes late.  Uggghhhhh!!!

4)  Why is my daughter still asleep at 9:30 am on a day when I have to be awake at 7:30 am.  She can't just have the courtesy to sleep in occasionally on the weekends.  Any other day, I awake to that very creepy feeling of being watched, and open my eyes to see some crazy hair and two blue eyes staring back at me.  Just once, could they please both sleep past 9:30 by accident??

5)Why do kids wake up in the middle of the night, crying about ear pain, but then are seemingly fine in the morning?  Especially after you make an appointment with the pediatrician.  And of course, all they had left was a 2:30 pm appointment.  We all know that is the kiss of death appointment.  During nap time, and mid afternoon.  The doc's are easily an hour behind by that time of day.  Always get a first appointment of the day, or first after lunch.

6)  Why is it, that even though birthdays come every single year, I can never plan ahead?  My birthday is on Tuesday, and I have no idea what I would like to do.  And my sweet little dude is turning 5 on the 18th, and I have yet to plan any kind of party.  One day, I will learn to plan ahead.  Until then, I am in full on panic mode attempting to throw together a rockin Angry Birds party for my little man.  Any body know how to make an Angry Bird cake??

In honor of all moms who are convinced the kids are conspiring against them :)

7)  And as my final random thought of this morning.  Where are Max and Ruby's parents??  OK, let's be a little more politically correct.  Where are the adult figures that are raising them??  Mom, dad, aunt, somebody...I mean, their grandmother makes cameo appearances, but you never see their parental figures.  For all intents and purposes, Ruby, the older sister, seems to be raising her little brother.  Which would be just fine, except I think she is supposed to be some where around the ripe old age of 12??  You would think you would have met them at some point.  I would be a little resentful if I were Ruby.  She is stuck with a serious amount of baby sitting duties...

  Anyway, back to real life...Molly is still sleeping.  Can you believe that crap??  This would never happen...At least it gave me a little time for writing in my blog.

"Mommy, how do you spell B!#$%??

Conversation with Colin Bear earlier...

Colin "Hey Mommy...How do you spell B!@#$?"
Me  "I'm sorry...what did you say Bear??"
Colin  "How do you spell B!@#$??"
Me  "That is not a very nice word Colin Bear?? Where did you hear that word??"
(Sadly, knowing full well that I am sure I have said it at some point in front of him)
Colin  "You know, B!@#$.  Like the thing you sit on outside..."
Me  "Ohhhh, you mean bench.  Like a park bench.  Got it.  That is spelled B-E-N-C-H."
Colin  "OK Mommy..."
Me  "You have to be careful bud.  There is another word that sounds a lot like bench, but it isn't very nice.  Mommy thought you were saying that one."
Colin  "Nope, just bench..."

(audible sigh of relief...)

The election according to Colin Bear...

   Let me go ahead and state at the beginning of this post.  I don't do political discussions.  Please do not read into anything that is said during this post.  I do not wish to spark political debates, and I am certainly not interested in upsetting friends and colleagues.  This is purely a funny story about my son, and a 4 y/o point of view about the election.  This is my disclaimer...now for the funny story.

   The Colin Bear is frequently full of wisdom.  He is a smart, observant little dude.  So I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me at the beginning of the month when he attempted to engage me in a discussion about the election.  We don't really discuss politics around here.  Mike would love too...I, however, not so much, so I was a little surprised that my son even knew that the election was happening.  He frequently comes home with handouts from school, and he brought out a handout about the election.  He showed me pictures of both candidates, told me their names, and then he told me about some of their favorite hobbies(as shown by pictures in the handout.)  I was pretty impressed.  And then he sat down on the couch and thought about it all...He noodled it for a bit, and he says
Colin "Hey Mommy, it's Wednesday.  Which guy won?"
Me  "Well little dude. Barack Obama won."
Colin  "Oh...(wanders off to play with his Angry Birds for a few minutes, returns to continue the conversation)
Colin  "Mommy, I am really glad Barack Obama won the election."
Me  "Really, why is that little dude?(I am totally curious what reason he might have)
Colin "Well, I am glad Barack won because, Mitt is a really funny name..."
Me  "Because Barack Obama just rolls off the tongue..."
Colin  "Oh, and Barack Obama(yes he used his full name the whole time) is a boy like me."
Me  "Really?  How old is Barack Obama?"
Colin  "He is 6 y/o.  Mitt Romney is old.  He is like 100 y/o"
Me  "ahhh, I see.  Well I am glad you are satisfied with the results of the election little man."
Colin  "Yep, I like Barack Obama."
 
     He wandered off to play with his Angry Birds like this was completely normal conversation to have at the age of four.  I have the distinct feeling that I might have two men in my house attempting to engage me in political discussions later in life.  Fabulous.  Just what I need, two political junkies.

Life happens...and apparently gets in the way of my writing

   Slowly but surely, life seems to have gotten in the way of my extracurricular activities.  Well, primarily my writing...but here goes nothing.  I have been suffering from a severe combination of writer's block and exhaustion.  Sadly, when I have had a few "extra" minutes to myself, sleep has seemed to win out over writing every time.  That, and watching Dancing with the Stars :)  I mean, who doesn't need a good dose of attractive men dancing shirtless for two hours.  In fact, Mike asked me the other night while I was watching, "What is with all the shirtless men?"  My response, "Why wouldn't they??"  I mean, if I looked like those people on the dance floor, I would probably walk around half dressed all of the time.  Sadly, this is simply not the case.

    I have hit yet another low with my weight loss struggle.  I have fallen off the wagon yet again.  It wouldn't be so bad if I just fell off the wagon.  Instead, I leap off the wagon, screaming at the top of my lungs "I love food, I love food!!"  I have rarely hit the gym this month.  I am starting to have those "why am I even paying for the gym" thoughts going through my head.  I have to push through this.  I need to lose some serious poundage at this point in my life.  I am back to really hating the way I look, and that is never good for anyone.  I can chant things like "size is just a number, it doesn't define me."  But the negative thoughts come creeping back.  If only I was one of those people that didn't eat when they got depressed.  Instead, I reward myself with food, and continue the vicious cycle.  Ahhh, well...what are you going to do?  Back to counting calories, and pushing myself at the gym.  Hopefully, I will see some results.  Results would be nice to see.  Perhaps if I could locate some self control, that would be useful as well.

    Moving on...Now for the funny stuff.  Done with the emo crap for this post.  So, Molly has developed quite a fascination for our sweet, old, more than a few fries short of his Happy Meal, cat Jerry.  Jer Jer, as the family affectionately calls him, has spent the last 4.5 years hiding under the bed until 9 pm.  The kids have scared the crap out of him, and rightfully so.  My mom used to tell this story about me when I was three.  I desperately wanted to hold the cats.  I chased them around the house, and carried them haphazardly under my arms, so very proud of myself.  My mother tried to show me over and over again how to hold the kitties the correct way.  She would say, "Heidi, put one hand under their belly, and one hand under their tail.  Then they will feel secure."  She reminded me frequently about how I proudly walked into our living room saying "Look Mommy, I holding the kitty the right way."  Of course, I had the poor feline by the neck and holding his tail.  I suppose her instructions flew right over my 3 y/o head. That picture of myself holding a cat by his neck and tail still makes me giggle to this day. She was amazed that the cats never scratched me.  Now, I get to watch my sweet daughter chase my old, decrepit cat around the house.  She just wants to hold and snuggle the poor guy, and to his credit, he lets her.  Thinking back to my mother's story, I have tried to show Molly how to hold the kitty the "right" way.  Poor guy has gotten slow enough that she can catch him.

   Molly rounded the corner into the living room, and I just had to laugh out loud.  Poor Jerry...She had him hanging upside down, her arm wrapped around the midsection of his body, butt and tail in the air.  "Look Mommy, I am holding Jer Jer the right way..."  Oh my, how history repeats itself.  I am amazed by the patience most animals have with small children.  Although, I will say our dog Abby still gives me the "Do you see what your puppies are doing?" look.

   Both kids are at such a fun age right now.  Funny things fly out of their mouths all of the time.  They love to play together, play pretend, and they simply amaze me with their development and progress everyday.  I finally have them to a point where they can both play in another room, and I don't have to hover over them.  They are potty trained, praise God, and both children are verbal enough to tell me their wants and needs.  Life if getting a little easier in many ways.  Of course, they also love to fight with each other, Molly still gets into plenty of trouble when Mommy isn't looking, and whining is often the official language spoken in the house.  I have actually resorted to whining back at them, and having my own temper tantrum occasionally.  It frequently sounds like "Well, Mommy would love a margarita and huge piece of cheesecake, but we don't always get what we want..."  Needless to say, this happens in a weak moment...Of course, my favorite mommy quote of the day came from my friend Wendy as we were leaving the park.  I overheard her telling her son "No Connor, you can't have your whistle in the car, because Mommy might have to stab someone in the eye before we make it home..."  She heard me giggle and said "Well, it's true.."  So true Wendy, so true.

   Every day is still filled with laughter, love, hugs, kisses, tears, tantrums, illness, and occasional insanity.  So basically, nothing has changed here in the Bryan house.  I suppose I will continue to survive the way all parents survive the day to day struggles.  With plenty of stimulants and depressants.  God Bless Coffee and Wine.  They are gifts put here on Earth from God himself to make parenting a little bit easier.  So, on that note, I am off to pour a glass of wine, snuggle with my husband, and enjoy a few brief moments of silence while the kids sleep.  Then...to bed.  Because it all starts over again first thing in the morning.  And I promise to do a much better job of getting all of their funny stories posted before they leave my brain.  I have learned that I just need to stop everything and write immediately when I think of a funny post.  If I wait, the whole thing is lost...

Hospice fired my grandfather...

   Just a couple of months ago, I rushed down to Pensacola.  My 92 y/o grandfather had fallen...again.  This time, the prospects looked grim.  The doctors were not encouraging.  In fact, I had to rush down to assist in the decision to turn him over to Hospice.  It was a sad day.  I could hardly believe the time had finally come. I had almost begun to believe this man was going to live forever.  Well, as a medical professional, I knew this day was coming, but this is one stubborn old man.  He has burned through at least 8 of his 9 lives, as one would expect of someone in their 90's.  Approximately 7 months ago, this cantankerous old man fell in the parking lot after bowling.  Yep, you read that correctly, he was out bowling with his buddies.  He fell in the parking lot, and he managed to break his neck.  C1 and C2, decent fracture.  The fact that he was alive and breathing, let alone walking since then is a minor miracle.  But this guy loves to prove doctors wrong.  In fact, I think he lives for it, forgive the pun.

    Shortly after surprising everyone, he was discharged from a rehab facility, back to his assisted living facility.  That week, he fell again.  He further fractured his neck that is now permanently in a neck brace to attempt to keep him alive.  The doctors recommended Hospice for palliative care.  He will never survive surgery to repair the injury, and most of his medical conditions are worsening.  He has congestive heart failure, history of a stroke, history of a heart attack, quadruple bypass, horrible lung fibrosis both from years of smoking and as a side effect of a cardiac med he was on for his A fib, and of course some kidney failure and diabetes.  Seriously, what wouldn't be failing after almost 93 years??

   He was admitted to a Hospice floor of a local hospital on 10 L of O2 via high flow nasal cannula.  I left my sweet babies with their father for the second time in the last few months, and headed down to spend some time with my Grandpa.  By the time I got there, my grandfather and the Hospice minister were looking up his island from WWII on Google Earth on an Ipad.  Ok, so this man is dying...got it.  I sat down to visit, and picked up a pretty little box on his bedside table.  Inside were sweet little notes from the staff with hospice related bible verses.  I set it back down without saying anything.  My grandfather pipes up with "Yeah, I have no idea what that is all about.  Isn't Hospice last rites kind of crap??  I am not ready to die."  I laughed even more as I reviewed his current meds with the nurse on shift.  His nursing diagnosis, Adult Failure to Thrive.  Even his nurse said "Well this is odd, my failure to thrive patients are usually not sitting up and arguing with me."  Yep, that is my grandpa.  I was grateful to be his family, not his care provider.  At some point, the nurse practitioner told me that I should take him by the shoulders, and let him know he is dying, and that it is OK to let go.  I laughed a little and said "I'm not so sure that he is, and maybe it is better if it takes him by surprise."

   Low and behold, he was released from the Hospice floor to a rehab facility, and then back to his assisted living facility.  Hospice continued to follow him, and visit weekly.  Some where along the line, his doctor finally broke the news to him that he was never returning to driving.  He had been fully convinced that he would be able to drive again once he recovered.  Of course, he hadn't driven in almost 2 years, but who is counting.  He called me, and informed me that Santa had come early.  He graciously offered me his car as a gift for my family.  So off I flew on Airtran on Monday morning on a one way flight to Pensacola for a short visit.

     I immediately went to visit my grandfather after a brief visit with my step uncle and his partner Rob.  These two are awesome. They handle everything for my grandfather, and they aren't even blood relations.  They take him to his appointments, handle his bills, and take him out for an occasional field trip.  They even host our family on our visits in town.  Upon my arrival at his little apartment, I can tell I am in for it.  He is in a mood.  This could be fun...For about 45 minutes, I let him yell at me and vent.  I didn't mind at all, in fact, I think it would be natural to be a little pissy and angry at this point in your life.  Our interaction went something like this

Me  "Hello Nant(affectionate name), how are you feeling today?"
Nant  "Well, not great.  This getting old thing is horrible.  I don't understand this whole thing of people taking things away from you before you die."
Me  "I don't have to take the car Nant.  If you aren't ready, I can leave it here.  No big deal at all."
Nant  "It isn't the car, it is the fact that I can't drive.  Why shouldn't I be able to drive until I die, and if it is what kills me, then so be it."
Me  "Well, we aren't actually worried about you, we are worried about everyone else on the road.  What if you killed someone else??"
Nant  "Well then, they were in my way, and it was their time also..."
Me  "Nant, I know you don't mean that..."
Nant  "Not really, but I know I could still drive.  I could pass that test."
Me  "You are in a neck brace and have to have oxygen constantly to stay conscious.  No one is going to let you have a license...I'm so sorry.  I know it is incredibly frustrating."
Nant  "Oh, and about this Hospice thing...I never approved this.  I don't need them.  They come by every week and bring crap like this(throws small handmade pillow and quilt in my general direction).  What am I supposed to do with this?/"
Me  "Some nice little old lady made this for you to make you feel better.  She was just trying to be helpful the only way she knew how."
Nant  "Well she could keep it...I mean, how is this supposed to make me feel better about dying.  Why do they feel the need to stop in every week to remind me that I am dying, and that they aren't going to do a damn thing about it.  I am 92, I have been well on my way to dying for a long time.  This is not news, and I see no need to remind me that you aren't going to stop it."
Me "(extreme laughter) Well, I guess you have a point.  I have never thought about it that way.  Do yo want to go out for some contraband ice cream?  It always makes me feel better."
Nant  "Yeah...that might be nice.  I am sorry for yelling at you.  I am not mad at you."
Me  "I know you aren't.  Sometimes you just need to say things out loud, and then you feel better."

   Needless to say, we had some wonderful ice cream, and a great visit.  I think I learned more about my grandfather and laughed more with him in that 24 hr trip than I have in along time.  Yesterday he called me to inform me that Hospice discharged him from their care...I am not surprised at all.  In fact, I am proud of him. I hope I can be as independent and feisty in my elder years as he is.  What a fantastic role model, even if he is quite a grumpy old man that sounds like Foghorn Leghorn.