Perspective

First off, my apologies for not posting in a while. I've been busy. Doing what? I'll share that over the next couple days.

I was going to do a second post about installing the fridge and moving the cabinet with my son. I will forego the gritty details and say that we bickered like an old married couple doing home renovation. We finally did get the cabinet moved and the fridge in, after a few heated exchanges. It may not have been a smooth process, but we got it done.

It feels good to purchase a quality appliance. I've only had to do it one other time - with the ex, when we bought a fridge, but that wasn't like this. Any other appliance, washer & dryer, dishwasher and car for that matter, I had received as gifts. I'm very lucky to have such a wonderful and giving family. They take care of me. And I've carried a lot of guilt because of that.

Don't get me wrong - I'm very very grateful, but I also feel embarrassed that I received those items because I couldn't afford to buy them myself. I'm a single parent adult, I should be able to support myself and my son on my own. This is tough for me to admit. I'm a proud person that does not like to ask for help. That pride got me into a lot of trouble that has taken me a long time to get out of. That's a long story. One I may post about sometime, but not today.

That being said, it was an extra sweetly satisfying moment to personally purchase and install a brand new side by side refrigerator and, I got a great deal to boot! It's difficult to describe my feelings: satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment, giddiness, independence and yes, even a sense of pride.

Picture it:
I open the doors to this pristine, white, energy efficient icebox. The light shines on my smiling face, and I hear the Angels singing.

Isn't it funny that buying a new refrigerator might be nothing more than a pain in the butt necessity to one person and a joyous accomplishment to another?

I guess it's all a matter of perspective.

Measure Twice

My son and I went shopping for a new fridge last Saturday. I bought the old one with my home 11 years ago, I have no idea how long the previous residents owned it. It was on it's way out for a while. Water would leak into the fruit & veggie drawers from the freezer defrosting. The door wouldn't swing shut on it's own anymore and one night my son left it open so long a hole burned right through the lightbulb glass & filled with water from the freezer. Not exactly safe. It was small - only 19 cubic feet I think. When you are feeding a rapidly growing 15 year old boy - the more you can stock up on the better. It had a tiny freezer on top too, hated that. I understand the mechanics of why refrigerators were originally made with the freezer on top - heat rising and all that. Now they have very efficient side by sides or freezers on the bottom. It makes so much more sense to me to have the door you open most on the top.

A flyer from one of the big name construction/appliance/garden centers came in the mail and I saw a great deal on a side by side fridge. I took measurements of the space twice, wrote it down and of course, forgot it at home. I had memorized height and width though - so I was confident of choosing something that would fit. It turned out that the particular model in the flier was way too big for my space. Mr. I'm Sure He Works on Commission was very helpful and had a smaller model at an even lower price. I gave him my space allowance - 33 inches wide and 68 inches high, it should fit with no problem he said. "I'll take it" I said. I got talked into the extended warranty plan for an additional $99, I must have had sucker written all over me. At least I got free delivery and removal of the old fridge.

The earliest deliver was the following Friday, they would call on Thursday night to give me the delivery time. I planned on either going in late to work or leaving early, depending on the delivery time. I got the actual call at 7:45 Friday morning (I normally leave home at 6:30AM) Between 9 and 1 was the time they gave me. I was hoping for closer to 9 so I could get into work, if they came at 1 it wouldn't even be worth the hour drive to just turn around and leave at 3:30.

I got a call at 11 from the delivery driver....They were having trouble finding my home. The big truck finally pulled up around 11:45. After measuring the doorways and removing the door closing thingy on my storm door, the two young lads unpacked the fridge on the street and used a very cool dolly with straps to heave the behemoth carefully through the doorways. It was a lot bigger than I remembered. They carted away the worn out old fridge - I was not unhappy to see it go. I kept eyeing the space and the new fridge, comparing the two. "Um, how tall is this fridge?" The 6 foot 4 inch mover whipped out his tapemeasure in a flash..."68 and a 1/4 inches". Shit. "I don't think it's gonna fit, I measured twice and told the guy that sold me it that I had 68 inches in height" They wheeled it over and tried to slide it into the space. It went in two inches and that was it, the cabinet above was too low.

This was one of those embarrassing moments when I felt my face flush. Tall man just chuckled and said "It happens to me all the time, I have to take my son with me. He does that new math that totally confuses me and still comes out with the same answers I do". I felt slightly better at my stupidity. "Well, I'm not sending it back - I'll just have to move the cabinet".

I should note here that my son told me it wasn't going to fit when we got home from the store and remeasured. He was so going to love hearing that. It didn't look like I was going to make it to work either. I figured I'd wait until my son got home before trying to tackle the dozen or so screws holding the cabinet to the wall. That's when the fun began.

Enough Already!

I'm ready to start building an Ark. It would give me some small satisfaction to return my bad neighbors banging and crashing with some of my own. It would take a lot of hammering to build an Ark. Huh? You ask? It's not you - it's me - I'm going crazy from all this rain! It's cold, it's wet, it has been for weeks. Oh sure, we get teased every now and then with a peek at the sun, but it's May in New England! We should be having 70 degree weather and barbecues! I hear on the news that it's the third or fourth coldest wettest May ever.......DUH! Just look out the freakin window?!? Enough of this crap already! We had enough Nor'easters this winter, we don't need another one. They talk about hearty New Englanders.....even we can only take so much before turning into whining crybabys (speaking only for myself of course). I'm awhinin' and acryin' - please stop the rain! I'm ready to head south by Gorry!

I Don't Wanna

I checked out movie times before I left work yesterday. I have been itching to see Revenge of the Sith. I didn't see Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones in theaters, and since this is the last - I wanted to see it big.

I picked up my son about 4:00 from track practice (his last one for this season) and asked him if he wanted to go to the movies. He groaned that he would rather see Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy. Is it just me, or do all children want to do something other than what you want to do? Ever since he was little, I would have to drag him - sometimes kicking and screaming - to one thing or another that I thought he would enjoy, and eventually did. I explained that we could hit the 4:50 show and be out by 7:20, there wouldn't be any crowds at this time and I really thought he would enjoy it. He finally agreed after rolling his eyes a few times and my finally saying - "Fine! We'll just go home!" (Anything would be better than that).

The one reason my son loves going to the movies is the snacks. It cost me more than the bloody tickets! (Luckily the 4:50 show was still at the matinee price) Two ginormous drinks, a large popcorn, 2 bags of sweedish fish and 2 hotdogs later....We found our seats. (I only had a drink and some of the popcorn mind you - I have no idea where this growing boy puts it all).

He thoroughly enjoyed the movie in the end. I did too. It wasn't perfect, and they do overuse the CGI effects, but all in all it wrapped everything up in a nice way. I'm not a Star Wars fanatic by any means - to me it's entertainment. But....I did feel a bit sad and nostalgic that it was 27 years ago, when I was thirteen years old, that I sat in awe watching the most amazing movie I had ever seen unfold on the screen before me. Now it's finally reached it's end, and that's kinda sad for me. My son doesn't share my grief or amazement, he has become accustomed to seeing CGI effects both in movies and video games. He wasn't there at the beginning and couldn't appreciate the timing of this final installment of the story. It was a day I was feeling my age.

Maybe....Someday...My son will feel that feeling with his offspring.....Maybe with the Harry Potter movies or something.

Mousetrap

Most homes will have an occasional mouse that seeks refuge from the cold winter. The Dutch Colonial I grew up in was no different. I had the largest of the three bedrooms upstairs, a teenage girl in the 70's dream - big yellow flowered wallpaper and a canopy bed. My parents took the bedroom with the largest closet and closest to the bathroom, points not truly appreciated until adulthood. My brother had the smallest bedroom, considered the size of a closet by today's standards but, it had walk up stairs to the attic in the closet. A very cool selling point to a seven year olds imagination.

Dad tried to hide the mousetraps discreetly in the basement and around the house so his two young children would not be traumatized at the sight of a dead mouse. I was around 13 at the time and my brother was 7.

Not all the mice were dumb enough to fall for the peanut butter filled traps though. Some mice can be rather intelligent. Take for instance the mouse that plagued my parents last year in their current residence: Dad found evidence of the little bugger by the holes it was digging in the soil of one of Mom's large houseplants. Dad placed a peanut butter laden trap directly in the planter the mouse frequented. At each check of the trap, a hole would be dug under the trap and the bait would be licked clean. Smart mouse. It took a while before it became careless enough to spring the trap.

What is a parent to do when an adorable, furry, big eared, beady eyed rodent appears in the midst of his two excitable young children? Can't kill it - imagine the therapy bills. The only logical thing to do is to try and catch it and let it go outside. (Of course it will probably return to the house; carrying disease, contaminating the pantry or damaging the woodwork) Thoughts not in the realm of children. The things our parents do because they love us!

I saw an example of this love firsthand.

I don't recall who actually first saw the mouse. What I do remember is the four of us trying to corner it and catch it. It was nighttime, my brother was in pajamas and I was in a nightgown. We were jumping around and pointing "There it is!" Squealing in excitement. Dad was trying to find something to trap it with - a bucket,a cup, a blanket, anything to cover it with. Mom had the broom, trying to corral it. This petrified little field mouse was evading capture as best he could. It really was a comic scene: Mom wielding the broom, Dad looking for anything to contain it, and two overexcited children running, jumping and squealing at a frightened field mouse dodging to and fro.

The mouse, afraid for it's life, took a desperate path right up the grasscloth covered wall. It paused 5 feet up and calculated it's options: crazy lady with a broom on the left, 7 year old in perpetual motion on the right, man with a blanket in the rear, and a 13 year old girl wearing lots of concealing material directly in front. The choice was made and in a death defying leap it hit the floor and bounced right up my nightgown.

I did a jig that would make any Irishman proud. I think I probably hit high C too, but things are a little fuzzy for me. I remember hopping from side to side frantically flapping the hem of my nightgown, all modesty forgotten. I do know that I eventually flushed it out - much to everyone else's amusement. I think they were all rolling on the floor and laughing too hard at that point to even worry about catching the sucker. It probably died of fright anyway.

So...Given the choice of seeing a dead mouse in a trap or having a live one run up your nightgown...What would you choose?

Right.

I hate being sick

There is nothing worse than feeling so crappy and aching so bad that the thought of actually getting off the couch to go pee just seems overwhelming. The couch is where I was for the last two and a half days. It started Sunday night at my son's birthday party. I felt suddenly exhausted...There was a slight tickle at the back of my throat I just couldn't get rid of.

I crashed early Sunday night and woke up at 5:30 Monday morning, I couldn't raise my head from the pillow, maybe just a little more sleep was what I needed. I slept till 9 and still felt the same, so I called in sick to work.

Tuesday morning it was the same thing.

I now know what it feels like to be a cat and sleep 16 hours a day. Not bad for an occasional indulgence, for me - I'd rather feel normal and be up and about.

Maybe it was just my old age catching up with me - I turn 41 today. Ugh.

Lypoma

Galileo: the sassy little lady


The very nice Doctor lady called today to inform me of the Hystology results: a benign fatty tumor called a lypoma. Parakeets are prone to them, dogs get them, cats get them, people get them! Nothing to worry about. Another could appear in the future but at least now I know with certainty that it's nothing to worry about.

For the moment...all is right within my world.

15

My baby


At 6:04 PM tonight my son will be 15 years old. He made it, by the skin of his teeth. Wow. 15. Am I really that old? He was born on a Monday, the day after Mothers Day, 4 days before my birthday. We have 6 birthdays in May within my family and extended family. I guess that makes August a hot month in more ways than one.

He has gone off with his father for an overnight visit. The first visit in over a month. The first time since our divorce that he will be with his father on his birthday. I hope it all goes well and he has a good time. We will celebrate his birthday tomorrow at my parents house with a nice dinner, a cake and presents.

I hope that 15 is easier than 14 was, I'm not that lucky though. It isn't easy watching him struggle on the verge of manhood. He rebels against everything I say, since I'm not a real person and only The MOTHER, it is expected and normal. Sometimes I wonder if he is truly made of my genetics and not some alien entity secretly deposited in my sons place. Could this person actually be the same angelic faced child that once looked up at me for guidance and comfort?

My Mother once told me that it is a teenagers job to make you dislike them enough to let them go. My son takes that job very seriously and, at times, excels at it. I just pray that I am doing a good enough job that he will grow into an honest, decent man with a happy life.

Happy birthday baby. I love you.

FFFFFFriday the Thirteenth

Maybe it's spring fever.
Maybe it's just because it's Friday.
Maybe it's because it's the 13th.
Maybe it's because the weekday weather has been nice, but the last 3 weekends have been rainy and miserable.
Maybe it's a full moon.

Whatever it is.............. it's making everyone cranky and antsy and totally wanting to get out of work and start the weekend.

Myself included.

I cannot concentrate.
I'm finding every excuse to do everything but what I should be doing.
I am unproductive.

I want to leave.
I want to go to my sons track meet.
I want to go shopping for his birthday present, just living to see it isn't enough.
I want to have an ice cold beer and put on my sweatpants and slippers.

Writing about it is giving it teeth.
It was a thought, a feeling.
Now it's almost a compulsion.
Must. Leave. Now.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig!

It was an hour wait before the assistant in scrubs came looking for us. My son had reached his patience tolerance level and was almost to the point shouting how tired he was of waiting to every soul in the room.

Sidenote:
I was reading a Birdtalk magazine in the waiting room. There was an interesting article about talking birds and how scientists have discovered that birds actually understand the context of language. They are actually thinking of classifying birds as being more intelligent than some mammals. I could have told them that. My previous parakeet, Buddy, would ask "What are you doing?" at the most appropriate times. Galileo will shout out "Hey Baby!" when I walk past her cage. She will also shake her head and flare her tailfeathers when I yell at her for chewing on my windowsill, as if to say "Yea, and what are you gonna do about it!" They are intelligent creatures.

We both stood as she approached "We don't have any exam rooms free, do you want to sit while I review her aftercare?" I looked her square in the eye and said "No thank you, we've been sitting for an hour". It was enough to satisfy the impatient one's irritation as well as relaying my annoyance. She muttered an apology and went right into what we should watch for and expect. She nervously stuttered a few times, that was almost satisfying to me. Vets charge outrageous fees for their time - is mine any less valuable? There were 4 women shuffling in and out of the front desk admitting new patients and releasing old. There didn't appear to be any kind of system to speed the process along, it was chaos. People that came in after me left before me, it really seemed like they had no clue what they were doing. I also think it's just plain rude when you're standing right in front of them and they ignore you while reading a computer screen. A simple "I'll be right with you" isn't too much courtesy to ask for. I'm glad I had more confidence in the Doctor than the administrative staff.

She was finally brought out in her travel cage, silent and clinging to her perch. My heart fluttered when I got a low wolf whistle at the sound of my voice. I had to ask for the towel that I had brought in covering her cage. My son took her to the car and I could see the relief on his face.

I then stood at the counter waiting for the headless chickens to get it together enough so I could pay my bill. After 10 minutes more it was handed to me, $100 more than the estimate. I scanned the charges and noticed that they had included the charge for the Hystology (biopsy). "I spoke with the Doctor earlier today and she said she was going to have the hystology done but not charge me for it". I quickly got another printout without the charge. The total was $30 less than the original estimate. I wonder how many people actually just pay the bill without reading it over first. I wonder how much money they have literally stolen from distraught pet owners. What a racket. I think I will write a letter: commending their treatment of the animals, but protesting their treatment of the owners.

The cage was in my sons lap the whole ride home. "She's acting funny" he worried. I explained that he would be wiped out and acting funny if he had been deserted at a strange place where they plucked out his tail feathers, put him to sleep, and if he woke up alone and confused with a sore behind. I told him that she would be her old self in a couple days, with more confidence than I felt. She managed to nibble at his fingers and give a few low whistles, though it was much too subdued to ease my sons concern.

As I was cleaning her 'home' cage, my son had taken her out of her travel cage and she flew, hitting the floor much too quickly. I had clipped her wings right before her trip to the vet, she didn't know she couldn't fly anymore. I knew that her landing probably caused her a lot of pain and I spoke much too sharply at my son for taking her out of the cage. I backpeddled and told him why she has to take it easy and be left alone and quiet to recover. "We don't want her opening up the incision, you have to give her time to heal hon". He was excited when she hopped over to her newly filled dish and started eating. Mom could possibly be right.

I uncovered her the next morning to fill her dishes with fresh water and food. As soon as the cover came off an excited chirp filled my ears as she raced to the door and started rattling it as if to say "Let me out!" She was feeling better and decided to launch herself from my arm. With wings flapping furiously she landed on the floor. I could feel her pain. I scooped her up and deposited her back in the cage. She ruffled her feathers and shook as if to say "Ouch - that wasn't supposed to happen!" It wasn't so painful as to prevent her from shouting at me as I headed out the door to work. "Where are you going? I'm feeling much better - stay here and play with me!" I only wish I could have.

I was the recipient of a hearty welcome and a bit of a scolding when I arrived home 10 hours later. She was her old excited self clinging to my fingers with her beak up against my mouth and tickling my nose with her feathers as she chirped and waited for my response. She was even feeling well enough to wrestle with my thumb as I held it up to her face. She feels lighter, maybe it's my imagination. Her tail pulls a bit to the right now because the incision went around her body to her back. At least there was enough skin to close the incision. Hopefully it will straighten out as it heals. I won't love her any less even if it doesn't.