HT ain’t complainin’

I’m going to come right out and say it, I smell good. 

I happened upon a bottle of Love’s Baby Soft the other day at CVS. I didn’t even know they still made it! Let me just say, it was seven dollars well spent.

In my memoir Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar (did I mention I wrote a book?LOL) there are many eighties cultural references. One thing that got play was Love’s Baby Soft cologne. It was the smell to have when I was in Jr. High. Love’s Baby Soft ads graced the pages of Seventeen Magazine, and who wouldn’t have wanted to look like a Love’s Baby Soft model? Their skin dewy, their hair always perfection, it was something to strive for.

Probably every guy in his forties will recognize the smell. Perhaps they’ll catch a whiff as I walk by, and won’t know why… but a memory of slow dancing with so & so from 7th grade might suddenly waft it’s way into their thoughts. It’s powerful stuff.

Ladies, I suggest you march yourselves down to the nearest CVS, and splurge on a bottle.

Cause yo, “Some of the nicest things happen in Love’s Baby Soft.”

Posted in appreciation, Uncategorized | 14 Comments

Windsong Concert Today!

Easy parking in the Ford garage just around the corner from the church (the garage is directly across the street from Hessler). Tickets for Kids are just 5 bucks!

It’s such a joy singing with this group of talented women.

Posted in appreciation, music, Uncategorized, Windsong | 4 Comments

He’s Fine Now

Seth had a bad reaction today during his second IVIG infusion for his immune deficiency. He’s okay now, but it was not good.

He did fine his first infusion, and he was fine today, and then they increased the IV rate. Shortly after that, he became nauseous and needed to pee, so I took him with his IV pole into the bathroom and left Riley in the infusion room. Once in the bathroom, Seth became really ill and began throwing up. I left him for one second and ran to the office, shouting from the door for someone to help, and the only one who answered was Riley. I don’t know where the rest of the staff was, maybe in with other patients. 

“Riley, tell them Seth is sick.”

She did. Soon a nurse was there and she stopped the infusion.

I sat Seth on the toilet seat, and he kept throwing up into a waste basket, but he could barely hold his own body up, so I kneeled on the floor facing him, and he slumped onto my shoulder, moving me out of the way every so often so he could puke. He kept saying he wanted to lay down, but I refused to let him lie on the floor in the bathroom. 

Finally, I let him kneel on the floor with his arms resting on the toilet seat. I didn’t like the idea, but it was a one seater bathroom, we were the first appt. of the day, and I figured it had probably been cleaned overnight. My knees couldn’t take kneeling like that to support him much longer.

So kneeling, his forearms on the toilet seat, I’m rubbing his back and there is the sound of an explosion. He had massive liquid diarrhea in his pants and didn’t even react, he was so completely out of it. I’m trying to take his pants off, and clean him up, and hold him up, and where the fuck is the nurse? And she comes in after what was probably five minutes but seemed like an hour and takes his temp. His blood pressure was 80 over 40. She started a different IV, just fluids.

Keep in mind, as all this is happening, Riley is having a problem with her brand new braces, and there are metal wires that have come loose and are poking straight into the backs of her cheeks, and she will not survive the weekend if we don’t get to the orthodontia office before they close in the next two hours. If all had gone well, we’d have had plenty of time.

With my cell I call Todd at work to ask him if there is a possibility he could come help me. As I explain what they are about to do, (give Seth an IV push of a med to help the nausea, and another one to help the inflammatory reaction, Todd the hospital pharmacist starts yelling at me through the phone YOU DO NOT GIVE THAT MED IV PUSH,...as the nurse is pushing it in, and Seth starts crying because it is burning..BECAUSE IT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE GIVEN IV PUSH) and I’m on the floor in the bathroom holding him up with Todd mad in my other ear and my baby is so sick, and Riley is God knows where, on her own.

We got Seth back into the infusion room, and he was pretty wiped out. He looked so pale, and weak, sitting back in a recliner, wrapped in nothing but a blanket from the waist down. I had not thought to bring extra clothes in case my nine year old pooped himself. I held him and rubbed his forehead and Todd came bursting in the room and Seth opened his eyes in a flutter and said in a tiny weak voice, “Hi Dad. How was work?”

I had to bury my face in my shoulder to hide my tears. Our boy is so freaking sweet, he feels like death and he inquires about his dad’s day the second he sees his him. Todd got all choked up too.

Finally, we got him settled, feeling better, and we continued the IVIG at a very slow rate.

Todd took Riley to the orthodontist, and came back quickly.

After we finished the PA came in to talk to us. In that way many doctors have of not wanting to take accountability he suggested maybe Seth has the flu, and asked if he’d had his flu shot? The child was fine, they increased the IV rate, he had a reaction. It isn’t the fucking flu.

“No. He hasn’t had the flu shot and he won’t be getting a flu shot.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

What I said was, “No. We’re done talking about this.”

What I meant, and what I’m pretty sure came across was, “If you keep going with this, you are going to be a freaking carcass before lunch.” I’d had enough. And I am no longer in the business of trying to convince anyone about anything. If you don’t know flu shots are filled with crap and ridiculously ineffective, and about profit rather than public health I don’t know what to say. It’s not worth my energy to debate you.

“Just considering all the possibilities,” he mumbled upon retreat, defeated. I’m sure he’s pitying my “ignorance” as much as I pity his.

We finished the infusion. Seth is home. And he’s fine. He’s playing with his iPod. His appetite is good. No flu.

I am so jacked up right now I probably didn’t need coffee or the two donuts I just emotionally consumed.

Two down, four to go(infusions, not donuts, I’m done with donuts).

I sure hope this IVIG helps our boy.

Posted in appreciation, special needs parenting, Uncategorized | 22 Comments

Braces

Riley got braces today.

Her first dental appointment when she was a little girl was a nightmare for her and one of the worst experiences of my parenting journey thus far. As she got older it was evident she had a major need for orthodontia but I doubted she’d ever be able to tolerate it.

Today, she was so excited. She could not wait.

To her, braces mean being a tween. Being cool. Being like everyone else.

After her appointment, we went to the mall (and we never go to malls, I hate them) because she wanted to. She wanted to celebrate. We got smoothies and then walked around.

She still gets panicky and reaches for my hand stepping onto escalators, unable to perceive depth well. She’ll forget to let go when we get off the escalator and continue holding my hand as we walk through the mall, (not too cool for that at eleven years old). Hand in hand, this is when I am reminded how much she still reacts internally to external stimuli. She may not scream, but holding her hand, I feel her tension. When we walk by something extra noisy or a scary poster, or a perfume salesperson getting too close in our faces, she flinches. Her hand grips mine extra hard.

She still has sensory issues, but she gets through it. Brave, brave girl. She has worked so hard to be where she is now.

Our orthodontist has been building a relationship with her for years, preparing her for this day. Having us come in every six months, free of charge, just to peek in her mouth. Not even doing anything, just getting her used to him. Getting her used to the idea. Selling her on the coolness of braces.

Some days I am overcome by the kindness of people.

In the chair today, Riley asked intelligent questions. She dealt with all the sensory components of getting her braces on. She beamed when they gave her a mirror to check herself out in. She was pleased with her choice of neon green and purple bands.

She’s happy. She’s a happy girl.

I have this feeling, she’s going to be okay.

And I will never take it for granted.

Posted in appreciation, Asperger's, orthodontia, special needs parenting, Uncategorized | 14 Comments

Emmanuel

“The moment of death

is also a moment of remembering.

I cannot tell you how often 

you dear ones have left your bodies 

and begun to laugh.” 

                   -Emmanuel’s Book II (The Choice for Love)

Posted in appreciation, spirituality, Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Helping David and Freia

What do you do when you are a little girl, and you are out on a beautiful hike with your parents on Christmas day and suddenly your mom, dad, and dog slip on ice, and fall fifty feet into a ravine? The mom in the family is Riley and Seth’s yoga teacher from camp.

The family is recovering but they are in need of help.

I say, we prove to this child that good things always follow bad, the sun always comes up. People care, and Love will always show up to help.

Read more about this family here, and consider making a donation. Every little bit will be greatly appreciated.

Thank you.

Thank you Love.

Donations can be made through PayPal by making a payment to kristen.felan@gmail.com (will show as Daryl Eady, Freia’s mom).

Posted in appreciation, Love., Uncategorized | 1 Comment

All the single ladies…

There are finer fish in the sea than have ever been caught.

-Irish Proverb

I’ve got a friend who is single but wishes to be married. Gorgeous, beautiful woman. At times she fears something is lacking in her because she has no mate. She yearns for the guy, not realizing the above parable applies to her. Friend, you are the finer fish. You have not been caught.

Posted in appreciation, Love., Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Sunburned Faces, Part 1

Some of you who read this blog, probably read Jeneil Russell’s blog too. She writes beautifully of family life, autism, and faith, always faith. And she has this way of making you fall in love with whomever she loves. Her daughters Rhema and Hope. Her twin sister. Her husband. God.

Recently, Jeneil’s husband Brandon hi-jacked her blog and told her readers about a little booky she wrote a few years back called Sunburned Faces. Jeneil had never mentioned it on her blog! It is about a stint she served in Ethiopia, working as a volunteer in a medical clinic when she was barely twenty.

Jeneil is the rare writer who can whole heartedly, and steadfastly proclaim her faith, while never making anyone else feel wrong or threatened. She just knows what she knows. I subscribe to the now cliche’ “spiritual but not religious” notion, and I never feel judged or cast aside by Jeneil for not believing exactly as she does.

Sunburned Faces is amazing. First of all, she was twenty when she was writing it, and it is so well written! Secondly, she’s seen things most of us will never, ever see. I learned so much about that part of the world, just by Jeneil’s tiny peek into it. Also, because Jeneil wrote it, I fell in love with the characters in her book. One of them will be with me forever. I just know it. I do not say that lightly.

I read Sunburned Faces just before Christmas, and it was powerful to do so at that time. We have so much. We do. Many people in the world have so little. It was good to be reminded, to be mindful of our blessings. In the holiday rush, I’d have a little thought, “I wonder if we should have gotten the kids….this or that, or whatever,” and remember they lack for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I’ll be doing a Q & A with Jeneil one day soon here.

If you are not familiar with her already, do check out her beautiful blog. And if you want a good read that will make you appreciate your own life more, order a copy of Sunburned Faces.

Posted in appreciation, book reviews, spirituality, Uncategorized, writing | 5 Comments

I’m nothing if not insecure

Thank you to writer Lisa Romeo, for allowing me to work out my existential angst over at her blog today. She asked me to guest post re: self-pub, and surprisingly even to me, this is what bubbled up.  

Posted in appreciation, Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar, indie publishing, memoir, spirituality, Uncategorized, writing | 1 Comment

Bowel sounds? Positive.

My nursing license is not current and it bugs me.

I have a lot on my plate with the kids issues and homeschooling, and no plans to go rushing back into nursing, but I like the security the license gives me. I like knowing if Todd suddenly could not, I could support our family. So, I have finally made up my mind to take the boards again. And who knows? A part-time gig might be nice a little further down the road.

So….recently, I was at a Catholic nursing school, taking an NCLEX review class. It was awesome. Twenty hours of review. That’s a long time to be sitting in an auditorium being tuned in, and I wasn’t bored once. The teacher was so good! It was like watching a gifted musician performing in the zone. Dude was born to teach NCLEX review. I didn’t walk out feeling ready for my boards, but I walked out feeling like I know exactly what to study. It feels good to work my brain that way again.

(If you are interested it was Mark Klimek’s NCLEX review class. Worth every penny. Even if you’re not in Ohio and have to travel).

So, as I said, this is a Catholic nursing school. It was lovely. Stained glass windows flanked each side of the auditorium. The acoustics were good. The seats were comfortable and roomy.

During the 15 minute breaks, there were mad dashes to the rest rooms. There were serious lines, with hundreds of nursing students at the review. I happened to hop on an elevator and find a bathroom on another floor, no line, no waiting. Given my poop-a-phobia, I am an expert at finding secluded bathrooms. Now I’m not saying I pooped there, but had I needed to, I could have. In private.

During the very last break, I was quick out of the auditorium. There were no lines. I decided, just this once, I’d use the bathroom everyone else was using. Walking in, I was first, and made a b-line to a stall. Tinkling, I reflected on my amazing bathroom karma. I had not waited in a line all weekend! Go me!

As I exited the stall, I couldn’t help notice the slant of a male tush sidled up to a urinal. And then another one. What the?

I was in the men’s room.

I broke the first rule of nursing, and hightailed it out of there without washing my hands for fear of seeing something I shouldn’t (I then cut the ladies room line and snuck in to wash them).

Now given all I’ve shared, is it just my potty on the brain, or does the blessed mother in the stained glass look like she’s surrounded by intestines?

All weekend, every time I looked up at that window, I couldn’t help but think it. The blessed mother, praying for positive bowel sounds. Been there. Can’t let your post-op patient go home ’til you hear them.

Maybe I really am a nurse after all.

Posted in appreciation, nursing, Uncategorized | 8 Comments

Outcome Uncertain

There are so many juicy things to worry about. I’ve got kids with health and learning challenges. I’ve got friends who are grieving. I’ve got friends who have cancer. I’ve got family with issues. I’ve got my own issues. I’ve got my book to promote. I’ve got more to write. I’m re-taking my nursing boards in the near future. I’ve got an ankle problem. I’ve got a messy house. I’ve got too much responsibility and not enough time.

A couple of years back, my New Year’s resolution was to quit blaming my children for not doing the things I wanted to do in life. I have done quite well with it.

My resolution this year is to make peace with uncertainty. I mean, what if I could even love it?

What if instead of worrying, I had a blast, visualizing best case scenarios!

Seth, inspired by his bout of tics as a child becomes a brilliant healer and helps hundreds of thousands of children!

Riley, because she wasn’t forced to conform to traditional schooling has a lucrative career doing something completely unconventional and just loves her life.

My ankle has been repaired and I am now bionic, and can run many many miles, no problem.

Cancer? Ancient history. No one gets cancer anymore.

Family? Healed. 100%.

Loved ones grieving? Peace envelops them like a warm blanket.

My book/my writing? Thy Will Be Done. Thy can do a better job than I figuring it all out.

Nursing? The perfect niche presents itself and I can give a really good part of me to any patients I see.

Messy house? Alice from the Brady Bunch lives with us. She has her own suite.

Every desire we have, is because we believe we’ll feel better if we get what we’re wanting.

To feel good, even though outcomes are uncertain is possible. Writing that list just now, felt light. It felt buoyant. 

If all those things happened in the future I’d be happy, but just writing it made me happy now. And it took about sixty seconds to rattle them off.

Pollyanna? Good. Whatever. It beats sinking into a pit of despair (ask me how I know).

With uncertain outcomes, the possibilities are endless. The possibilities might be better than I currently have the ability to imagine.  

Happy New Year everyone.

Open-endedly yours,

MO’N

Posted in appreciation, Uncategorized | 6 Comments

PANDAS, Grrr.

I’m over at Hopeful Parents today, worrying about PANDAS.

Posted in PANDAS, special needs parenting, Uncategorized | Comments Off on PANDAS, Grrr.

14 Years

I was out doing some Christmas shopping and Todd was home with the kids. A song came on the radio, and Riley leaned over to Seth and out of the corner of her mouth said, “If Mom were home, she and Dad would be slow dancing right now.”

The song was on our “must play” list 14 years ago today at our wedding reception. And Riley was right. We’d have dropped what we were doing and been slow dancing in the kitchen. And soon a little guy in a fedora with a Chihuahua in his arm would have globbed onto one side of us, and then a beautiful tween, not wanting to be left out would smoosh onto the other side, and maybe even an Aussie/Shepherd mix would be encouraged to stand on her hind legs and join the sway. It isn’t a graceful dance, but it’s ours.

Happy Anniversary Todd. Thank you for your steadfast, unconditional love.

I could never do without you. You are my love, my treasure, my gift.

Posted in appreciation, family, marriage, Uncategorized | 6 Comments

15,779 Days

Standing in the kitchen with a calculator, my daughter informs me I am 15,779 days old. I’ll take her word for it.

My heart has dutifully pumped for 15,779 days. My lungs have breathed. Blood courses through my veins. I’ve rarely been physically hungry (unless self-inflicted).  My bones and muscles have held up my body. I walk. I smile. I cry.

15,779 days and my skin has miraculously healed every little cut, every big incision.

Babies grew in me.

I’ve been able to feed them every single day.

I’ve slept.

I’ve woken up every day.

I’ve given love and received love.

I’ve laughed.

I’ve been in pain.

I’ve caused pain.

I’ve sung a solo.

I’ve written a book.

I’ve ridden a dolphin.

I’ve looked into the most beautiful eyes in the world.

I’ve bathed in bliss.

I’ve steeped in angst.

I’ve touched the fur of a bat (softest thing I ever felt, second only to a giraffe’s lips, and my babies’ bottoms).

I’ve water skied, gotten up first try, and never water skied again in thirty years.

So many lifetimes packed into 15,779 days.

15,779 days, and still so much to do.

So much more to grow.

So much more to learn.

So much more to love.

Posted in appreciation, Uncategorized | Tagged | 5 Comments

Merry Christmas

May your day be filled with joy….

The joy that comes when we drop our ego. Drop our judgements. Drop our not good enough-ness, drop who we think we should be, and know Who we really are. There is beauty inside you. There is Divine light in you. You are a miracle.

Joy to the world!

Merry Christmas!

Amen.

Posted in appreciation, Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Lunch Time Compliments

We were sitting at the kitchen table for lunch yesterday, and I made a request,

“Riley. Tell me something good about your brother!”

Munching on a piece of apple* she said, “Well, he’s fun to play with and he does nice things.” She paused, and added,

“He’s a do-gooder.”

I don’t know where she picked up the term. You don’t really hear “do-gooder” very much anymore. And if you do, it’s usually in the pejorative sense, but she meant it absolutely sincerely. I almost fell off my chair from the love.

Seth considered this, and smiled shyly.

Next, I asked Seth to tell me something good about his sister.

“She’s nice. And she’s a good listener.”

It’s true. Seth is chatty. And he’s home all day. And mothers have many, many things to do, like check Facebook, so they aren’t always available to truly listen. Riley is much better than I at absorbing him, and being interested in all he has to say about Lego and Michael Jackson, and Chihuahuas.

One do-gooder.

One good listener.

And one mom who is head over heels for both of them.

*I  put a little cinnamon and sugar in a sandwich bag and put the apple slices in and shake it up to coat them. It’s a quick, easy, healthy-ish treat and jazzes up the apple, because let’s face it. Apples get boring. I added this just in case you care.

 

Posted in appreciation, family, homeschooling, special needs siblings | 6 Comments

Every moment is a teachable moment…

HT had a minor surgical procedure recently, and the kids and I were waiting in an operating room lounge. A surgeon came out to talk with the husband of another patient. He sat down in a chair next to the guy, and said,

“I just want to give you a heads up on what happened in there.”

The guy looked concerned as the surgeon continued, “Your wife is fine, everything went fine, but when we got into the operating room, the instruments weren’t sterilized yet, and that is unacceptable, so I was… pretty hard on the nurses,” he kind of patted the husband on the back, like a co-conspirator.

The husband nodded, relieved. His wife was fine. Whatever about the nurses, not his main concern, obviously.

The surgeon was covering his ass for having a major temper tantrum in front of his patient. Does a patient, all prepped for surgery, probably nervous, really need to witness that?

It must have been a doozie of a meltdown too, because word of it had trickled over into HT’s operating room. He’d heard all about it before he went under anesthesia.

Really professional.

People like this surgeon think they’re tough, but they are not. They are weak. Too weak and powerless to have a handle on their own emotions. They are abusive. And it appeared this guy thought he was perfectly justified.

And hospitals allow it to happen all the time with physicians. Surgeons are the worst, because they are the big money makers, so no one holds them accountable for their bad behavior, and everyone kisses their butts.

I’ve worked in an OR. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Many times. Of course not all surgeons are pricks, (I’ve met plenty of nice ones) but there is definitely a higher prick percentage among surgeons than the general population.

This is all anecdotal of course. I have not done a double blind placebo controlled study on the prick ratio of surgeons, but if I did? I bet there’d be a statistical significance.

Our homeschooling that day consisted of a wonderful discussion about the abuse of power. About treating others with respect. About holding people accountable without resorting to temper tantrums and verbal assaults.

Every moment is a teachable moment.

Posted in nursing, Uncategorized | 10 Comments

Joy

I love Koko’s toothy grin.

Posted in appreciation | 1 Comment

Annoyingly good things my yoga teachers say…

“The way you do anything is the way you do everything.”

“If you create drama in your ab workout, where else do you create drama?”

“The pose begins, the moment you want to leave it.”

“It’s okay to be uncomfortable. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Think about raising the corners of your mouth.”

“When you move away from your core, that’s when you fall.”

“So what if you fall?”

“Come back to your breath.”

“Try again.”

Posted in Uncategorized, yoga | 7 Comments

Censorship

So I have this idea for a new book. And it is of the “inspirational” variety, but it has a different spin than most inspirational books. And I really, really want to write it, but the thing is, I keep censoring myself. I keep feeling like an inspirational book ought to be more pious or something. Like someone writing an “inspirational” book maybe shouldn’t be as rough around the edges as I still am. Maybe someone writing an inspirational book shouldn’t even be thinking the F word, let alone writing it. So I keep edging my real voice out of it, for fear of what a potential audience might think of me. I hate when potential audiences look down their noses at me.

I wish I didn’t give a rip. I wish I could just feel safe, and not really care what others thought of me. I know of plenty of writers who are far more edgy than I am. My perceived edginess would be a joke in their world. I also know plenty of writers who play it safe. Some play it so safe I want to like their book, but something is missing. Technically it has all it’s supposed to, it’s followed the formula to a T, but somehow it’s a little…oh…squeaky clean and flat.

Maybe the safe writers really never say the F word in real life, so for them, it is legit to never write it. (And I’m not just talking about the F word, I’m talking about all the dark places we don’t want others to see).

I am not a mean person. Never is it my intention to hurt anyone. And yet, I feel somehow wrong, just for thinking what I think, and feeling what I feel. I’m guarded. You would not believe how much I self-censor, even on this blog. Can’t write that. Can’t write that. Can’t write that. I’m so afraid of offending anyone. This didn’t used to be the case. In my early blogging years I was so angry, I just didn’t care. Somehow over the years I’ve unconsciously begun to equate spirituality with not offending. But that feels like shrinking. And that can’t be right.

Writers especially get all up in arms over banned books. Censorship! Bad!

What about the books that never get written due to censorship in the writer’s own mind?

Potential audience? I’m asking you to move, and I’d like that space in my mind back. You’ve been squatting there too long.

You go be you.

I gotta be me.

Posted in appreciation, spirituality, Uncategorized, writing | 13 Comments