Tag Archives: parents

Sorry

We were unable to have kids. We love them and just had two over last night with Grandma to make an anniversary dessert for their parents.

They did so well, I think next time the kids visit I’ll do Pizza Night. That’s always a hit. Italian OO flour, great cheese and about 17 toppings to choose from. I proof their dough first and make all the toppings, then have them learn to make 1/2 batch of dough for us for later on. It’s a great learning experience.

It is a ¬†wonderful¬†“class” for me as well to see what the kids like and do not like. Anchovies, caramelized onions, roasted tomatoes, roasted butternut squash, and the cheeses. Gorgonzola Dolce, great Mozarella. Goat cheese. Sauteed spinach. Artichokes.

My dear Aunt L taught me to taste and ask questions later. I’m taking a bit of a different path allowing kids to follow their taste buds and branch out. A while ago we hosted two kids, age two and six. The six year-old boy wanted simple cheese pizza. The younger girl wanted to taste everything and made great choices. I love her bravada.

The neighbor’s grandkids, C and A, love our dog Zoe. When they visit they actually stand in front of our door whispering her name. Of course her little ears hear it and she runs to the door to announce visitors, vociferously.

We love kids. I hope their parents appreciate the anniversary gift they made. I know the grands do. Thanks, K! Hope they got to bed on time. Dee

Advertisement

Parents

You love them since birth, get to know each other. Then you learn to rebel in your teens, hopefully go to college and it’s a new world.

You’re two-thirds their equal and then you have a career and are off to do great things with the degree you both bought.

Then you marry and have kids, whoops we missed that last one. We married late for both of us and only have a dog, and neither of my parents ever met our girl. She’s a requested visitor at his parents’ ranch. Best dog in the family. We got Zoe at a shelter at just six weeks of age and she’ll be eleven years old this month.

Just as I take care of my husband and dog it has been time over the past ten years to take care of my parents. Mom has been gone over six years and Dad is undergoing second opinion tests at a stellar hospital. They were there for me. I was there for my mother and always will be for Dad.

My husband is younger and his parents are in good health. He will help me assist Dad and I will be there for his parents and for him if ill health occurs.

I don’t want to make waves but the health care marketplace is not ours and paying in full for health care involves long waits on the phone and no answers, mainly because no-one picks up the phone at major health care companies. Imagine a health insurance company denying service to a full-paying customer. That’s another story, another day.

There are now two heavy, zippered notebooks. One for what is and the other for what might be. Swingline is now making crummy staplers but I’ve a hole punch and lots of dividers for health care, housing, tax deductions, insurance, utilities, et al.

Planning for life is just a little bit of it. Oh, while I’ve loved Swingline staplers for all my life, their products have failed miserably and I’ve had to go with a competitor. My new stapler arrives tomorrow. Our papers in my incredibly organized notebooks require essential items to be placed together for easy sorting. I need a stapler that works. Sorry, Swingline. Cheers! Dee

Can You Top This?

Today my dear friend of 35 years lost his mom, as I did two years ago. We’re that age, being at the end of the boomers, where we may not be fully grown yet but our parents are dying.

We don’t talk about keggers anymore (at least I don’t) but my mother lasted two weeks in hospice and his lasted three. I don’t know if that’s better or worse because everyone is different and their conditions differ as well. Let’s hope the suffering was kept at a minimum for the patients, and the families.

At this age and with time after a parent’s death the “kids” are able to explain a good or bad hospice experience. I feel like just yesterday I was fearless, fit and fabulous. Now I’ve taken on a volunteer commitment that requires physical activity like kneeling on concrete floors and it reminds me that I’m aging too.

So when you’re feeling down, no matter the cause, think about the good stuff, listen to Jerry Jeff Walker’s London Homesick Blues and go home with the armadillo. With utmost respect, Dee

Three Things

First, we have Thanks. Recently my husband told me he was continually amazed that when he gets home from work his dog and I say hello, dinner is nearly on the table and every stitch of clothing he’s worn for the past few days is hanging in his side of the closet or folded in drawers. That’s a big “thank you” from this guy, who’s not big on praise for everyday duties.

Now, Retribution. Charlie Rangel has been playing it fast and loose for many years. Today the powerful and shamed former chairman of the US House Ways & Means Committee was given censure by the House Ethics Committee. His penalty is, when the House as a whole votes to censure him, stand in the well of the House and listen to their rebuke of his egregious self-serving behavior. Think of taking multiple properties in NYC that were meant by law to help people who can’t afford one, much less four. That seems to be who gets these places, someone who can afford four, not just one. Remember Mayor Dinkins living in Mitchell-Lama housing that capped the income at way below what he was making as Mayor. But no-one in these places, the rich and powerful, ever get kicked out. Standing in a room on C-Span that no-one will ever watch does not even begin to address his wrongs. But the Good Old Boys Club sees wagging a finger at a colleague as the equivalent of several years in jail. That wouldn’t happen to his constituents in Harlem.

Last but never least, Love. My husband’s parents are back home and living a different existence from three weeks ago when they were in a major car wreck. It’ll be a while until life gets back on an even keel. They are adapting well, as we would expect. They’re self-sufficient farm folks who make do in a crisis. They are an inspiration to us and to anyone who knows them. We look forward to seeing them and all our family very soon, but not to naked scans and invasive pat-downs at the airport.

We wish y’all a happy Thanksgiving. Cheers, Dee

I Love You, Son

If you don’t know, my in-laws got in a bad car wreck late last week and my father-in-law has been in the hospital awaiting surgery for several days. Back surgery, pins and rods et al. Tonight I was on a call with his eldest son, my husband, and he said “I love you, son, I’m proud of you.” We got off the call and called Jim’s younger brother, who lives nearer by so can stop by the hospital from time to time.

I was very upset as I thought with those words my stronger than Superman father-in-law had given up. Both my husband and brother assured me that he says that all the time. I grew up in a family where a 98% on a test brought on questions about why I couldn’t have done better. An A? Why not an A-Plus? My mother has been gone two years now but a year before she died she told me I should have never been born, that I was never invited to any family holiday but only crashed them.

While that crushed my soul I still sat by her bedside at hospice even though the only words she said to me that week were “get me some water, please.” I should be grateful for the “please.” I got her a priest and fought my siblings to allow her to make that decision through the hospice chaplain. That’s another story.

No-one ever said I love you, daughter, and am proud of you. My family never touched, except for us kids to provoke each other on car trips. From the day my husband and I met nearly ten years ago we link arms or hold hands on the street, and always say we love each other, at least several times a day.

His family is actually happy we met and married even though we have not been able to provide them grandchildren. I know that my husband loves me, my father loves me and we’ll go from there. My husband and his brother are lucky to have grown up on a dairy farm, worked hard but their parents wanted them to go to college and not work on the farm. Their love and pride drives their sons’ lives today and makes all of us want to do anything to help out after this setback. Surgery is on the calendar after some complications are resolved, and there will be months of rehabilitation. I love these people. They took me in as family, Jim’s Nanny took me in as her grand-daughter because I’ve never known a grandmother.

So let’s all make a wish to let Joe go back to tending his cows, running the farm and loving his dear wife, kids and grandkids. Cheers, Dee