Holiday Blues

I moved to Florida in 1988. Back then, I lived roughly 1,700 miles away from my family. It was the first time I was on my own. It was hard. I spent the first six months living with my uncle's new wife and son and then with her sister. I then moved into my own apartment. Some poor choices on my part led to a strained relationship with my uncle and his new family, and for the most part I was on my own.

It was difficult. And my boyfriend at the time made it moreso. Let's just say I don't have the greatest taste in boyfriends. This one put me through some seriously bad times most people don't get to experience. I broke up with him about 9 months after I moved to Florida (he'd followed me to Florida). I would have done so earlier, but it was so scary. Having come from an agricultural/military/university town in a relatively remote part of the United States to an urban metropolis on the mainline of one of the busiest interstates in the U.S. was one thing. Coming from the Southwest where the culture was generally all inclusive and generous to the Southeast where the culture had visible boundaries and was seemingly 'watch out for #1', was entirely another. Being on my own, 1,700 away from all I've ever known, without anyone I could really rely on (my uncle was on ship duty at the time and my aunt's family had their own concerns to take care of), terrified me.

But I made it. Almost too well. Because 8 months later I met another man, one who was kind and fun to be around, and good looking, very good looking. And the next thing I know we're having children and getting married. Almost too quickly. Now this man has family! He is the baby of 6 children with seemingly hundreds of aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews within a 100 mile radius. So, going from a family of 4 to a family of hundreds was...overwhelming.

My sister and her family moved around, Texas, Colorado, Texas again. And not long after, our parents followed her to Texas. They live within biking distance (if they were so inclined) to each other. But it's still 900 miles away from me. Now don't get me wrong, I love my husband's family. There are some I am very close to and others not so much. But holidays are done very differently from what I am used to. I've tried acclimating, but I don't know.

I wonder. Is it my innate stubbornness? Or do I simply want to be with my family? See, every holiday, they all get together; my sister, her family, our parents, my sister's in laws (parents and siblings and children). Or is it I feel that the majority of the effort of making the holiday spirit for my little family is primarily up to me? I've got a laid-back husband. Very laid-back. So laid-back he is in danger of being comatose sometimes. His idea of Christmas shopping is 12/24. No kidding. So, I do most of the shopping, shipping, making sure we get the tree, get the kids to decorate, etc. And by the time Christmas comes, I am so NOT in the holiday spirit. Why? Because we are all so solitary. I've tried doing activities as a family, but it usually ends up me and the kids. Which is fun.

I guess it's that I try too hard. I try to make it good for my family, but for all my trying something is still missing. My family.

I miss my parents, sister and her family, and it is never more evident than during the holidays.

Points to Ponder

Tis the day before Thanksgiving, and I don't have to cook. Through the generosity of my coworkers and friends, we have been blessed with enough food to last a week. And for that I am very, very thankful.

Today my Mac went kaboom. Since my mom is an Apple guru (at least to me she is), and it was her Mac first, I called her. While on the phone trying to work out what could be done we had a conversation the likes of which I don't think we've ever had. I'll try to describe it, but it's more of a rambling than anything else. I think.

Today was a good day. And though I told DH that food needed to be picked up at the local store at 6PM, he was a no-show. So, tired though I was, I took my youngest and we went to pick up the food. Midway through the store DH calls. I'm in line waiting for the food, my son is chattering away, and I'm exhausted, so I just said I was at the store and I'd be home soon. I go home to a seriously miffed spouse because I "couldn't wait for him to do what I'd asked." Crossed arms, stiff body, you know the drill.

Well, great. Been living with this man for over 20 years and he still hasn't figured that I really want things done when promised? I've compromised so many, many times. And I know he has too. The question I have is, do I want to continue compromising over so many different things? The other question is, am I settling? And then another question comes to mind. Is this how I want to continue living my life?

I know, I know. Such 'serious' questions. But you know what? These aren't new questions. I've had them for years. I mean, fell in love with this man so many years ago, and I married him without really talking to him about what he valued, what was important to him, and so much more. And through the years, we've managed to make it work.

But what drives me nuts. What really irks me. What I almost can't forgive is this defeatist attitude he has. Whenever anything goes wrong he almost always has the attitude "that's the way my life goes," like bad things always happen to him. And he droops into a state of moodiness and seeming self-pity. Then he doesn't want anyone to do anything to make it better.

Bad things happen to everyone! But when it happens, large or small, you keep moving forward. You find a way around it. Everyone's life has bumps in the road. No one can own "bad things." I refuse to believe bad situations can't be turned into something positive. So what if the laptop breaks! Yes, it pisses me off. And yes, I worry about how much it's going to cost to fix it, if it can be fixed at all. And yes, it is very inconvenient. And yes - it's going to weigh on my mind until the situation is resolved. But that doesn't mean we don't have other options. The important stuff is backed up on an external drive. And there are two other laptops available for use.

But the thing is, this happens all the time.Not the bad things. Rather, the defeatist attitude. And again, my question is, do I want to settle? Is this the best I can expect the remainder of my life to be?

I don't want it to be. I'd sell everything I owned just to move closer to my family. Gabe would have so much more interaction and such a different, fuller life. Chris would flourish. Cassie, if she came, would flourish too. Thing is, DH's home. His entire family is here. His life is here. And therein lies the rub. He's a good man. A good, good man. And I don't know that either of us is being entirely fair with the other, or entirely happy with the other. So, what to do? Continue this quasi-happy life? Or...what?

So much to ponder. Thanks for listening. Happy Turkey Day and stay safe!

My Bucket List

It's getting on to that time of year again. And lately, it seems that this time of year, when I'm introspective, I once again come to the conclusion that I am not all that happy with the life I am living. I have a faithful and kind husband, I have three healthy and relatively happy children, a job I love, relatively good health (barring the cancer ordeal I am currently undergoing - which I am happy to say is almost done), a beautiful home in a beautiful city, and parents and sister with whom I am close. So, why is it that every year I feel I'm missing something? That my life could be better? Happier?

Did I settle? At times I think so. I settled when there was better out there. Settled for what, you ask? Settled for a life that isn't really all that fun or active. And by active I mean experiencing different experiences, going different places, or going no place but meeting and enjoying people who challenge me intellectually and physically. Is it too much to say I want more out of my life? I expect more?

Here I am, just turned 49 years young and I want more out of my life. So, for the first time in my life, I am making a bucket list. And somehow, through the grace of God, I intend to accomplish all of these before I die. Here we go (not necessarily in order):

• Travel Great Britain
• London, Bath, Dublin, Edinburgh
• Visit the Louvre in Paris, France
• Visit to the Smithsonian
• National History Museum
• Freer Gallery of Art
• American Indian Museum
• Visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City
• See a Broadway show in New York City
• Visit Alaska
• Move to the Dallas Metroplex
• Write and publish a book (fiction)
• Have at least one article published in a national magazine
• Meet the following folks in person and have a one-on-one personal conversation (not to be published, shared, etc. Just for me).
• Kristen Stewart (actress)
• Antonio Banderas (actor)
• Barack Obama (current president)
• Samantha Ronson (DJ)
• Elizabeth George (Inspector Lynley author)
• Charles Swindoll (pastor)

That is all I can think of for now, but it already challenging. I will add on to it as I think of it. And I will mark items off as I accomplish them. But for now, suffice it to say, I've still got a lot to live for, and it is time to work on my Bucket List!

Earth Angel

It's serendipitious how things happen in groups. In 2002 we lost a son. One year and two days later, we welcomed another son. And what should have been an incredibly joyous occasion was incredibly bittersweet.

I believe that God only gives us what we are capable of handling in our lives at the time. And I believe that God chose to take Baby Rufus as an angel so that he could watch over his little brother Gabriel. Why DH and I chose to have another child, I can't really explain. Each couple has their own reason for choosing to have another child or not. We chose to try again.

But we hadn't anticipated expecting quite so soon. The emotions, stress, all that, convinced me it would be some time before I could get pregnant again. Boy, was I wrong! First time, whoopee! Five weeks later I bought five different pregnancy tests. Each morning I took another one. Each time it was positive. Terrified can't begin to describe how I felt. When I called DH in to tell him we both started crying. We opted to keep the news from our children until absolutely necessary.

Long story short, DH accompanied me to every appointment. And since the pregnancy was now considered high-risk, there were many more appointments. Of all my pregnancies, this was the most difficult; and not only because of the overwhelming fear that this child, too, may be taken. Sixteen weeks in I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. I also had an Amniocentesis. I'd had one the previous pregnancy, but this one? In the first attempt the doctor nicked the placenta, so he had to do it again. The longest 10 minutes of my life. So, in addition to checking my glucose levels five times a day, I had to follow a strict diet.

Twenty-two weeks in and I started experiencing pre-term labor. From that point on I had two ultrasounds a week along with  weekly fetal monitoring. At least once a week I was admitted to the maternity ward to receive an IV for meds to slow down/stop the labor. At 24 weeks I was on bed rest. No work, children at school, no heavy activity. Too much time to think, wonder and panic. I poked and prodded almost incessently to be sure I could feel the baby growing inside me wiggle and squiggle. If five minutes went by without movement I panicked and started poking and prodding again.

DH asked if I wanted a baby shower. My response was a resounding 'No.' I didn't want to jinx the pregnancy, and I didn't want to relive the pain of putting away another baby's belongings that would never be used. So, nothing in the house changed.

We told our children in July as they were getting ready to go on their first plane ride sans Mom and Dad. They were going to visit my sister, her family, and my parents in Texas. They were shocked. And what we were hoping was that the trip would soften the blow. I don't think it did. A few nights before they flew home my sister called and described an incident involving DOS. I did then, and I do now, believe that unfortunate that it was (it was not serious, but it was upsetting) it was DOS's outward manifestation of his sorrow, confusion and angst.

When we found out we were expecting, our first concern was the due date. It was calendared at December 14. C-Section was scheduled for December 1. But DH and I knew baby would be coming sooner. We just hoped and prayed it would not be on November 14.

The week of November 12 was tough. Every day the labor pains continued, and every day I kept on taking my meds to stave them off. November 14 came, and we visited Angel Baby's graveside. It was hard. DD stayed close by, almost hugging me the entire time. November 15. Then Sunday, November 16, I couldn't take it any more. Our neighbor and good friend, Kim, took DD and DOS, and DH and I were off to the hospital. Not to deliver a baby, but to hopefully keep him in the womb for at least another week. But as soon as I was hooked up to the fetal monitor, IV, etc. it was apparent that baby was coming. DH left the room to make some phone calls, the nurse had already left, and I was alone to contemplate the upcoming C-Section. I tried to remain calm, but I just couldn't stop crying. I was so scared. Ninety minutes later we welcomed Gabriel into the world. He was beautiful! His apgar was 10, and he was alive and breathing.

I don't remember much of 2003. It was such a difficult year. I think I blocked much of it out as the memories are so painful. 2004 was also a difficult year, but that is for another day. For this entry is about the birth of Gabriel, named after God's Archangel. He has special needs, about which we learned the first three years of his life. And that only makes him that much more precious to me.

Happy Birthday, Gabriel! My Earth Angel.

Angel Baby

Today is November 14, 2011. I start with this because it is the birth, and death, date of my third child. Rufus Hamons Jenkins III was due November 18, 2002 via planned C-Section. Thursday, November 14, was my last appointment before the C-Section.

As a family, we were very excited. DD was 10, and DOS had turned 9 the previous week. The pregnancy had gone incredibly well. There were no issues, and it was considered a low-risk pregnancy. So, I went to work and at 11:00 was in the exam room for our typical appointment. So, when the Ob-Gyn couldn't find the heartbeat at first, I was not alarmed. We figured it was the device as it was an older one. When she couldn't find baby's heartbeat with a different device, I started sweating. When they brought the ultrasound machine into the room, I knew something was very, very wrong. I called DH. His work was only a block away, and he could hear in my voice this was an emergency. He literally ran out of the office over to the doctor. The ultrasound proved devastating. Our sweet, lovely baby's heart, instead of rapidly beating, was still. "Check it again." I said. And still, no heartbeat.

Our world fell apart then and there. The office staff was hushed, and we were ushered into the scheduling room so they could schedule a C-Section ASAP. I couldn't fathom that this little being I'd been carrying for 9 months could actually have died. When we left the office, only DH and I, the doctor, and a couple office staff were present. The atmosphere was somber.

We went over to the school and took DD and DOS out. And we walked them over to the church. And it was there that we told them Baby Rufus would not be coming home with us. The sorrow in their little faces was indescribable. And the fear, when they looked at me, was worse. For I knew they were wondering if mommy was going away too. DOS cried, but DD was stoic. And to be honest, that scared me more than anything. I look back on that day and the weeks that followed, and I believe she was trying to be strong for me. But at such a young age! It was her for whom I hurt the most. She was so excited about being a big sister. She had helped plan the baby shower, and her participation in that and her gifts for her brother touched me more than almost anything else in the world. And I could see in her eyes, the depth of the loss she felt, and there was nothing I could do to take it away or make it better.

The rest of the afternoon blurred. Some things I remember clearly. Others not so much. A family friend came and took the children. She was their surrogate mom until my parents and sister came into town. And it was her, we knew, who would try to keep their days as normal as possible.

At the hospital we were ushered into a delivery room. I filled out the paperwork, and we just sat there. Waiting. I later found out the maternity ward had scheduled this C-Section to be the last for the day. Since this was the same hospital DH worked at, many of his coworkers, nurses and staff alike, came by to offer their condolences. DH's siblings came by, but I asked him to keep them from coming in. It was hard enough maintaining my composure. I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to share this pain.

Then the phone rang. Earlier in the day I'd left a message on my Sunday School teacher's home phone to say briefly what had happened. It just so happened one of the ladies in my class had connections and found out what hospital we were in. So, Dawn called. She knew I didn't want to talk, but her phone call was cathartic. It roused me out of the shock I was in. And her call reminded me that though this was happening to me and my family, we were not alone in our sorrow.

A short time later we met with the anesthesiologist, doctor and nurses, and then DH and I were in the OR. Not long after that Baby Rufus was born. The room was silent. So, so silent.

As with all our children, DH went with baby to bathe and clothe him. And once I was in the recovery room, he and Baby Rufus came to visit. The nurses, staff, everyone, they were so considerate. We were the only ones in the recovery room, and they were so - reverential. The loss of a baby really does affect all souls.

We took photos, and then we went to a private room. It was in the maternity ward where the staff are best equipped to meet the needs of post-partum mothers. I didn't know until we checked out that we were in the room farthest from the nursery and there was a sign on our door to indicate the loss of a baby. DH and I spent the night with Baby Rufus. This is typical. And I am very thankful we had that night. It was my time to bond with my baby before letting him go. I talked to Baby Rufus while DH slept, and when dawn broke, I accepted what was and what had to be.

We had a graveside memorial service for Baby Rufus. DD and DOS selected special items to include in his casket, and we each added our mementos at the graveside. This was DD and DOS only time to visit their little brother. As hard as it was for mom and dad, we felt it would be exponentially more difficult for our children. We were amazed at the number of people; family, church members, coworkers, friends, school teachers and classmates, who came to the service. And I remember almost all of who was there.

I don't pretend to remember much of that week or many weeks following, but there were moments, events, significant times in which everything is still crystal clear. And I am thankful for those memories. They are special to me, and they are a gift to me. One of the the things I remember most during this time is that I learned the meaning of "Grace." I can't really put into words the definition of grace, but I do know what it is and from where it comes. And I know grace is a gift from God. A gift for which I am eternally grateful.

Happy Birthday Baby Rufus, my angel baby.

DH, Communication and Work Woes

Alcohol and work woes do not mix. DH came home the other day. It was a bad day at work, so he stopped off at a nearby club, had a few beers, and what happened? He came home in a fine nettle. This happens at times. Usually, he vents his frustrations, plays a few rounds of pool and crashes in the recliner. But not that night! Noooo. He had to go from work woes to what it is about each of the family members that bugs him. You know, the little things that we all deal with on a daily basis; leaving the toilet seat up (for us girls), getting impatient when the spouse calls for the 10 time at work, not taking the trash out.  So, for two hours he vented. And when DH vents everyone has to listen, no one can speak, we all have to sit and be attentive, and acknowledge with hung head that yes, we do not do this and we do do that, yadda yadda yadda.

And there's no talking to him. He's very good at talking over everyone else, and he can be a very imposing person when provoked. Then, once he's calmed down, DH expects immediate contrition on our part, forgiveness on his and all is right with the world. The problem is, it's the same speech every time. He complains about what is bothering him at work, or softball, and then he complains about his plight with the family. His wife and children don't listen to him. We don't do what he says. He knows what's best and we ignore him. Well, I got news for him. We do listen. We do what he says, for the most part. As for the last part. Well, he's married to a semi-OCD, logically minded, procedural person who thinks most things through before deciding on the best action. And if it's contrary to what he says, and he won't listen, it's 50-50 as to whether we do what he thinks is best. That, and he is so laid back we never know if or when  he thinks otherwise. In other words, if he doesn't agree, he rarely says so. So, how are we to know what he thinks is best when he rarely indicates such?

The night ended quietly. Once he got all his yelling and spittle-riddled speech out of the way, he calmed right down. Me? I went on doing what I was doing before he got home but in a pissed off frame of mind.  Thank goodness he slept in the rec room! The next morning he tried to schmooze before going to work and it was 'talk to the hand!' Things were quieter yesterday. When I'm upset I avoid conversation but I am civil for the children's sakes. By the time I was ready to address what I felt was inexcusable behavior (turning work woes into direct attacks on family members), he was much more contrite and very apologetic. And yet again, it was the same speech I gave to him: We are none of us perfect. We do listen and work to address his issues, but he won't let them go. When he has work issues, please keep the venting to work and don't attack his family. We want to support him and the vitriol doesn't help. And so on.

So, it's about three days later and all is copacetic. I just wish he would take his own advice to stop this cycle of holding it in then venting to the world. Granted, I'm one to speak! I am quite the opposite. When something bothers me, I address it as soon as reasonable. Used to be that I was not at all constructive in addressing it. Rather very scarily off my rocker. Now, after several classes (taken when I was pursuing a teacher's certification, then when I was taking Nursing classes, and also the requisite HR classes all corporations like to mandate), I like to think I take a more understated approach. I used it on him the other day, and it worked a charm; primarily because I waited till I calmed down.

And what am I doing now? Venting. Online. I wish DH and I communicated better. I wish DH were more assertive. I wish a lot of things. But that we worked it out, again, for now, is good. At least until next time.

Birthdays, Homecomings, Dog Bites, Oh My!

I've been posting on my other blog about my experiences with cancer. Today, I am not really in a 'cancer reporting' type of mood. And I am in the mood to write. So, posting here today.

Friday, November 4th, was the 18th birthday of my eldest son., Chris. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHRIS!!!! Since it was Homecoming weekend at his school, it's been difficult to find a time to plan a family celebration. And get this; Chris didn't even want to celebrate at a restaurant! Of my children, he is the most considerate. That, I will not deny. He knows it's difficult for me to get around and money is tight, but that's no excuse. He's 18! He gets to celebrate! So, in accordance with his wishes, I am making River Hash, rolls, and salad for dinner tonight. And naturally, we have a birthday cake. I'll share the River Hash recipe at the bottom of this post.

Friday night he was going to see Harald and Kumar but ended up staying at home. He's not really into football and wasn't interested in going to the homecoming game. Then yesterday he took two, yes two, girls to the Homecoming Dance. Both of them are named Alexx. Picture is below.  Isn't my baby such a stud muffin? I think so! They went to dinner at Outback Steakhouse and enjoyed the dance till around midnight.

Tonight we get to celebrate his birthday with a family dinner. Even Cassie is coming for dinner! And speaking of Cassie...

Dog-bit again. Back in January she was attacked by a dog while defending her girlfriend. The dog, a pitbull, did some pretty serious damage though Cassie opted out of seeing the doctor. This week, one of her roommates brought a stray into the apartment which is already occupied by a dog. Well, the stray and the homey took issue with each other, and Cassie and one of her roomies tried to break up the fight. Cassie got the bum end of the deal. Her right arm is covered with deep scratches, and some puncture wounds from where the stray got a hold of her. And her right leg? The stray got a good grip on that leg and you can clearly see the bite marks, many of which were puncture wounds. So, off to Solantic, and a tetanus shot and several stitches later she was on her way back home. The stray? Is impounded and under observation. Hopefully, very hopefully, Cassie won't have to undergo the Rabies series. We should know within the week. Cassie and dogs. They don't get along.

As for me? I'm still house-bound. Still working part-time from home. I've got 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my leg, and I am not allowed in the workplace until they heal. That said, I'm flexing all the time to keep the scar tissue at bay. Which is painful. Very painful. So, no walks with the dog. The leg can't handle it right now. And as an emotional eater, I'm just not ready to start Weight Watcher's. My emotions are everywhere right now. On the plus side? I am thankful I have my family (immediate and extended), my job, a wonderful boss, books, and plenty to keep me busy while sedentary.

What I'm looking forward to right now is movie #4 of the Twilight Saga. Yup! I'm one of those Twilight junkies. And I'm going to the midnight showing! With Cassie and her girlfriend! Can't wait! And a month later? The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo!

River Hash
1 lb. hamburger meat
1 package crispy crowns tater tots
1 can Mushroom Soup
1 can (use the Mushroom soup can) milk
1 onion
Lawry's Seasoning Salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Spray 13x9 pan with Pam. Lay tater tots evenly in bottom of pan.

Chop onion. Saute onion, hamburger meat, and Lawry's salt in large frying pan until meat is cooked through. Add Mushroom soup and milk and mix till well blended.

Pour meat mixture on top of tater tots. Cover pan with aluminum foil. Cook in oven for 1 hour. Uncover pan and cook an additional 10 minutes.

Let sit for 15 minutes.

Hint: I typically cook Pillsbury crescent rolls as soon as I take the River Hash out of the oven. When the rolls are done, the River Hash is rested.

Hint 2: Serve with salad.

Awesome meal!

Chris and his Alexx Angels