Category Archives: coping

Happiness Is . . .

Standing on the back deck in your warm flannel nightgown and fuzzy blanket robe drinking coffee and watching the birds at the bird feeders . . .

Even if it is only 26 degrees . . .

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Filed under 4 legged kids, coping, family, furbabies, millie, Neighbors, Play, PostADay, rocky, Stuff, weather

Oops

Yup. I missed a post yesterday.

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You Wouldn’t Understand

“You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never had kids.”

“It’s not like you have kids or anything.”

Without a doubt, those are some of the most hurtful words I’ve ever heard.

I ended a 40 year friendship because of that remark.

Hearing my XH say those words to me marked the beginning of the end of our marriage.

And today I heard them from a co-worker.   From the last person I ever thought would say such a thing.  From someone who should know better than to say something like that to a co-worker. From the HR Director.

It may have been an off-hand comment with no intention to be mean and hurtful.

But it hurt.

And it seemed mean.

She didn’t know if I was “childless by choice”

She didn’t know if I struggled with infertility and was unable to get pregnant.

She didn’t know if I was able to get pregnant but not carry a baby to term.

She didn’t know if I was able to carry a baby to term but there were complications and the baby didn’t survive.

All she knows is “No, I don’t have children” and she used that information against me to prove a point in a senseless debate that she probably won’t remember tomorrow.

But I’ll remember that conversation for a long time. And it will affect me for a long time. And it will color my relationship and all my future interactions with her and will limit what kind of personal information I choose to share with her and, possibly, other co-workers.

And that will make me seem “standoffish” and “cold” and she’ll never understand why . . .

 

 

 

 

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Filed under 2 legged kids, coping, ex-hubby, family, grief, PostADay, Stuff, Work

Crabby Appleton

Crabby Appleton is a term my mom used when we were little kids to describe our attitude when we were having a bad day . . . grumpy, in a bad mood, everything was terrible . . .

Today I was Crabby Appleton . . . in a bad mood for no apparent reason . . . everybody was twanging on my last nerve . . . everything was frustrating . . . if I didn’t know better I’d think it was PMS . . . but do post-menopausal women get PMS . . .

I saw a cartoon on FB that showed a cat as a therapist . . . asking the human patient if they had “tried pushing a bunch of shit off a table?” . . . and I laughed . . . then thought that might make me feel better . . . but I didn’t want to clean up the mess . . .

So I did the  next best thing . . . I got out the lawn mower and cut the weeds in the front yard . . . it hasn’t rained a lot here lately and the grass is dead but the weeds are still growing . . . the yard looked better . . . then I decided I needed to edge the sidewalk and the driveway because, well, weeds . . . and I have this fabulous new mower and trimmer and haven’t used them at all . . .

What do you know . . . it did make me feel better . . . the yard looks nicer . . . even though the grass is dead . . . and the sidewalk is nicely trimmed . . .

Thank you, my darling Prince Charming, for teaching me that yard work can be therapeutic . . . I’ll have to work on the back yard over the weekend . . .

 

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Filed under coping, grief, Play, PostADay, Prince Charming

#DaytonStrong

I live in Ohio.  About 30 minutes east of Dayton . . . I was born in Dayton . . . Mom & Dad grew up in Dayton . . . sometimes it’s easier to tell people I’m from Dayton instead of Springfield because just about everyone knows where Dayton is . . .

Sadly, now a lot more people are going to know where Dayton is . . . but not for a good reason . . .

With that being said . . .

I’m safe . . .

My immediate family are all safe (my nieces sometimes visit The Oregon District and my brother has a band that sometimes performs at The Oregon District) . . .

But my heart is broken . . . I am sad beyond words . . . and I’m glued to the TV to watch the local coverage of the tragedy that happened in my little part of the world . . .

The Oregon District is a busy entertainment district in Dayton.  And also very well protected by the Dayton Police Department and other private security agencies.  I would never dream this would happen here.  A bar fight gone bad – yea, it’s happened.  A drug deal gone wrong – yea, probably.  A violent domestic situation – yea, could be.  But not this.  Never this.  But yea, now this . . .

Hug your loved ones tight today . . .

 

 

 

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Five Years, Six Months, One Day

This post will probably be a convoluted mess with no real point . . . pretty much like every other post . . . so hang tight, y’all . . .

Yesterday was a day I’ve been dreading . . . because I have useless stuff stuck in my head most of the time . . . and I realized that July 20, 2019 was the five and a half year mark of the day of Prince Charming’s Death . . . trying to be an optimist . . . I tried to focus on the fact that it’s also the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon mission . . . and Prince Charming LOVED all things space related (he watched the NASA channel for fun!) so I thought I could get through the day focusing on the space mission and not on Prince Charming being gone . . .

It worked . . . until I got out of bed yesterday . . . and saw that Rocky was a bit “wobbly” and having some problems getting around.  Okay, he’s 10, has arthritis and has trouble getting around sometimes but never as bad as yesterday morning.  The look on his face broke my heart.  A mix of “WTF?” and “Mom, help me!” . . . and I went straight to panic mode . . .

He was FINE when we went to bed!! WTF happened overnight!?

Maybe he has heat stroke (he’s been inside in the AC!)

Maybe he had a stroke! (oh shit!)

We go downstairs.  Millie’s noticed he’s “not right” and is tormenting him.  He’s struggling to get down the stairs.  He’s struggling to go outside.  He does his business but it’s hard for him to be steady enough to finish.

Bad word, bad word, bad word.  “Prince Charming you are NOT taking Rocky today! I need him more than you do!” was muttered under my breath a lot.  Then I called Lovely Vet and got an appointment to have him take a look at Rocky.  The appointment was at 10:30 am . . . a full two hours AFTER I first noticed the symptoms.

Rocky gave me sad eyes, didn’t want to eat his breakfast, and stayed in front of the AC vent in the kitchen.  He did get up and move around a bit and each time he was less wobbly and steadier on his feet.  I almost cancelled the appointment but decided it was better to be safe than sorry . . .

Off we go to the appointment . . . and Rocky gets into the car like a champ . . . and Rocky explores the yard at the vet’s office and hikes his leg and pees on the flowers in the vet’s flower bed . . . and struts into the vets office like the super star he is . . .

“Darn you, Rocky.  Making a liar out of me!”

I explain the problems I saw earlier today to the lovely vet tech.  He doesn’t laugh at me for being overly cautious.  Lovely vet comes in the room and doesn’t laugh at me for being overly cautious.  Lovely Vet does a full and thorough exam and determines that it’s possibly a simple arthritis flare-up.  Adjusts Rocky’s meds.  Gives him a shot of something to help ease the pain in his joints.  Tells me to come back if things get worse.

Most importantly, he tells me I wasn’t wrong for bringing Rocky to see him . . .

So I apologized to Prince Charming for thinking he wanted to take Rocky . . . when he was actually using Rocky to help me get through what I thought was going to be a rough day.

By the way . . . the added meds and the shot to help Rocky’s joints have worked wonders.  Rocky’s acting like a puppy again . . . and wants to go out to play . . . during an excessive heat warning . . .

Bless his heart

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Filed under 4 legged kids, coping, family, furbabies, grief, PostADay, Prince Charming, rocky, Stuff

Arnold For The Win

I had an appointment today with Lovely ENT doctor because the Lovely Audiologist noticed my ears were irritated a little more than normal at the Hearing Aid Tune-Up last week and suggested I see the doc to figure out how to stop the itching. She didn’t think my suggestion to stop wearing the hearing aids was helpful at all.

So I saw the Doc (yes, the same doc that gave me the lecture about trashing my hearing by listening to loud rock music when I was a teenager) and he looked at my ears. “Yup that doesn’t look good” is not something you want to hear your ENT doc say when looking in your ears.  You also don’t want to hear that there “appears to be a cyst of some sort” and “I want to take a closer look at this” as he takes you across the hall to a different examination room.

Y’all know that I’m a horrible hypochondriac and can picture The Absolute Worst Case Scenario in any given situation.  Yes, I’m imagining I have ear cancer (it’s a thing!), or it’s going to be something that makes me totally deaf in that ear (the cyst is in my bad ear) all while I’m trying to lie still and let Lovely Doc look in my ear with some contraption and poke around with some type of instrument.

He’s explaining what he sees, and what he thinks the problem is, and blah blah blah while I’m trying to listen and not totally freak out over whatever horrible things my imagination is conjuring up . . . when he says to me in a totally calm and off-hand manner “it’s not a tumor” and then I’m suddenly faced with trying not to laugh while he’s poking around in my ear.

Have I ever explained that I have tons of useless movie trivia stuck in my head that I don’t know what to do with?  And that these totally useless bits of movie trivia tend to pop up out at the most inopportune moments of my life . . . yea . . . it’s a thing . . . and it happened today . . . during the ear exam . . .

Have y’all ever seen the movie “Kindergarten Cop”?  Remember Arnold’s response when the kids tell him that his headache could be a tumor?  Yea, that’s what played in my head when Lovely Doc assured me it wasn’t a tumor . . .

It was all I could do to get through the last bit of the appointment without laughing like a crazy woman . . . and I’ve been laughing about it all day . . .

Thanks, Arnold!

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