Oh....Did things blow up today in my hubby's family! What a fitting start to the July 4th weekend!
They are in the process of sorting through their mother's effects, in preparation for renting her house out. A few days ago, my DH came home from a meeting with his older sister with the notion that he had been instructed to sort through the house by himself! I was furious. Didn't they realize he had a stroke five years ago, and had trouble sorting the panties in the laundry, nonetheless 60 years worth of memories?
As part of his sorting, he took a load of clothes from the attic to Goodwill. He thought it had been decided by his sister that they were to be donated. In general, yes, she had. But then she placed a load of "memories" on top of them - baby clothes made by their grandmother and handed down, dresses their mother had worn to various weddings, etc.
Apparently, he wasn't supposed to take anything to Goodwill quite yet, and he was told about it in no uncertain terms - after the fact. But the item that caused the most anger? The white foofy crinoline-type prom dress with a petticoat-style skirt and red highlights that the younger sister had worn to her prom. 30. Years. Ago. (Why? "Because it's the type of dress that never goes out of style." Really?)
It has taken me hours to calm the family down. Dave is nearly incomprehensible, since the more stress he is under, the less he is able to form coherent sentences. I was able to help recover said prom dress, and two of the four bags of clothing he had dropped off. (Note to self - must remember to write them a wonderful thank-you letter. Our crisis should not have become their emergency.)
Dave's family is also much more aware now of how his stroke has affected him. "If I told him once, I told him a hundred times, he just needed to let me know when he would be here, I would go through things with him!" Congratulations, welcome to my world, where he grabs whatever meaning he thinks is relevant to a conversation, and hangs onto it regardless of any evidence to the contrary. Where he nods in pretend understanding, parrots back what you say to him, just so you will shut up and go away so he can act on whatever he thinks you actually want him to do. Because he realizes that his brain does not work correctly, so even though he may have heard you say 10, 50, 100 times that you want to work with him, he thinks that what you really said was something completely different, perhaps even another topic entirely....
Well, so much for wasting my day.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
The Siren's Call
Every time Dave leaves the house, I insist that he take his cell phone with him. It isn't really so that I can get him to pick up a gallon of milk at the last minute, or ask how is day went. After all, he doesn't really understand well without facial cues ever since his stroke. No, I just want to check and make certain he is ok.
Especially when he is driving the kids around, I get a bit paranoid. OK, so it's been, what four-and-a-half years since his stroke? I have to have some credit - he did get into one car accident with Rowan in the backseat. He said he was distracted because she was fussy at the time, hence missed the guy right in front of him who stopped at a red light. That sort of distraction was a result of the stroke - he was concentrating so hard on what she was saying and wanting, and having a hard time hearing it (he has greater trouble understanding high-pitched voices, like a little girl whining, or my mother laughing). And right after his initial stroke, he had a series of TIA's while we were driving around to his therapy appointments. Kinda scary, even when you know what it is.
So just a few minutes ago, I heard a siren whizz past the house, coming from the direction that my husband and daughter travelled just a short while ago. I thought, "No problem, they are headed away from where he is." Then I saw the State Police Helicopter circle overhead. Not good. He landed at a nearby church. Really not good. They only land around here when there has been a horrible car accident, and the occupants need to be medivacked into University of Maryland Shock Trauma. A fine facility, mind you, just not where I want my husband and daughter to be.
So is this where they are? Probably not. After all, these fears are mostly my paranoia. But we just received 23" of snow, the roads are still being cleared, and Dave did not take his cell phone with him. I have to swallow the fear until he returns. And let me tell you, if he has hurt my daughter in any way.....
Especially when he is driving the kids around, I get a bit paranoid. OK, so it's been, what four-and-a-half years since his stroke? I have to have some credit - he did get into one car accident with Rowan in the backseat. He said he was distracted because she was fussy at the time, hence missed the guy right in front of him who stopped at a red light. That sort of distraction was a result of the stroke - he was concentrating so hard on what she was saying and wanting, and having a hard time hearing it (he has greater trouble understanding high-pitched voices, like a little girl whining, or my mother laughing). And right after his initial stroke, he had a series of TIA's while we were driving around to his therapy appointments. Kinda scary, even when you know what it is.
So just a few minutes ago, I heard a siren whizz past the house, coming from the direction that my husband and daughter travelled just a short while ago. I thought, "No problem, they are headed away from where he is." Then I saw the State Police Helicopter circle overhead. Not good. He landed at a nearby church. Really not good. They only land around here when there has been a horrible car accident, and the occupants need to be medivacked into University of Maryland Shock Trauma. A fine facility, mind you, just not where I want my husband and daughter to be.
So is this where they are? Probably not. After all, these fears are mostly my paranoia. But we just received 23" of snow, the roads are still being cleared, and Dave did not take his cell phone with him. I have to swallow the fear until he returns. And let me tell you, if he has hurt my daughter in any way.....
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Blessed are the Caregivers
Had a mediocre day that turned bad. Made me feel the need to post this:
"There are only four kinds of people in this world—those who have been caregivers, those who currently are caregivers, those who will be caregivers, and those who need caregivers." Former First Lady Rosalynn Carter
"There are only four kinds of people in this world—those who have been caregivers, those who currently are caregivers, those who will be caregivers, and those who need caregivers." Former First Lady Rosalynn Carter
Friday, June 5, 2009
Handling Finances
Sometimes this topic makes me feel all grown-up, sometimes it just makes me want to cry.
Before Dave's stroke, he handled the major financial decisions around. He decided that we could afford the house we have, the cars we buy, etc. I ran the business. It was a good split, since we trusted each other. Even now, we are still affording the house we have, all of it, even though Dave no longer works. The cars are paid off, with one exception. And he had the foresight 20 years ago to start paying into a long-term disability plan. All good decisions, even now.
Now - well, the one car that is not paid off is one that I ok'd the purchase of. Will it be paid off? Yes eventually. In six more years. I don't like having a loan that is that long. But that is how we are able to afford a car that can hold six cars seats and pull the business trailer in a pinch.
The pool finally gave up the ghost. I can't just let it sit there, not with all our kids running around. It needs to be fixed or filled in, both of which costs about the same, and both of which is more than what I have available on my credit cards.
We are looking at the house, and trying to figure out where four kids will sleep, even if/when my parents are out of the house for good. Some walls need to be rearranged to make this happen. Does it need to be done now? No. But, construction costs are the cheapest they have been in years, and if/when the housing market recovers, it will only go up.
But I don't like making the decisions. Dave was always the good ones at this type of decision. Shoot, I'm the one telling him that we shouldn't go see a movie until I can get discount tickets on eBay. Who am I to be looking at spending incredible amounts of money that we would have to draw from the equity on our house?
I'm putting on a good front to the contracters I need to talk to, but right now, I keep repeating to myself, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home." Thing is, when I open my eyes, I'm still in OZ.
Before Dave's stroke, he handled the major financial decisions around. He decided that we could afford the house we have, the cars we buy, etc. I ran the business. It was a good split, since we trusted each other. Even now, we are still affording the house we have, all of it, even though Dave no longer works. The cars are paid off, with one exception. And he had the foresight 20 years ago to start paying into a long-term disability plan. All good decisions, even now.
Now - well, the one car that is not paid off is one that I ok'd the purchase of. Will it be paid off? Yes eventually. In six more years. I don't like having a loan that is that long. But that is how we are able to afford a car that can hold six cars seats and pull the business trailer in a pinch.
The pool finally gave up the ghost. I can't just let it sit there, not with all our kids running around. It needs to be fixed or filled in, both of which costs about the same, and both of which is more than what I have available on my credit cards.
We are looking at the house, and trying to figure out where four kids will sleep, even if/when my parents are out of the house for good. Some walls need to be rearranged to make this happen. Does it need to be done now? No. But, construction costs are the cheapest they have been in years, and if/when the housing market recovers, it will only go up.
But I don't like making the decisions. Dave was always the good ones at this type of decision. Shoot, I'm the one telling him that we shouldn't go see a movie until I can get discount tickets on eBay. Who am I to be looking at spending incredible amounts of money that we would have to draw from the equity on our house?
I'm putting on a good front to the contracters I need to talk to, but right now, I keep repeating to myself, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home." Thing is, when I open my eyes, I'm still in OZ.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Getting stretched to the max
I am really, really, feeling stretched to the max right now.
My life just seems on standstill. Not only do I manage the business, but I handle Dave's life, the four kids, and most of the interactions with his family. It has reached the point where if it is not something that affects me, I don't want to hear about it. I hate feeling rude about it, but I'm doing what I gotta do.
The most recent thing? My mother-in-law's house.
There are tenants in there. The deal is that they help box up the family belongings and make repairs, in return for living rent-free for a certain number of months. Good deal all around.
But then, the siblings started bickering over who gets what. They aren't talking to each other, at least not well. Neither sister is talking to me. The tenants keep asking me what to do next, and I just don't know what to tell them, since no matter what I do, at least one sister will decide it is the wrong thing to do. Regardless, the family can't decide as a group, what needs to be done. One of those cases of three kids, four opinions.
For as much as I like her, I am not a trustee for my MIL, I don't want to be a trustee for her, this situation is awkward all around, and I already have too much on my plate to deal with nonsense like this.
Anyhow, thanks for letting me spout off. I need to get back to my bees now. 60,000 bees per hive, each one driving towards a common goal - the survival of the hive. I can really appreciate the order they represent....
My life just seems on standstill. Not only do I manage the business, but I handle Dave's life, the four kids, and most of the interactions with his family. It has reached the point where if it is not something that affects me, I don't want to hear about it. I hate feeling rude about it, but I'm doing what I gotta do.
The most recent thing? My mother-in-law's house.
There are tenants in there. The deal is that they help box up the family belongings and make repairs, in return for living rent-free for a certain number of months. Good deal all around.
But then, the siblings started bickering over who gets what. They aren't talking to each other, at least not well. Neither sister is talking to me. The tenants keep asking me what to do next, and I just don't know what to tell them, since no matter what I do, at least one sister will decide it is the wrong thing to do. Regardless, the family can't decide as a group, what needs to be done. One of those cases of three kids, four opinions.
For as much as I like her, I am not a trustee for my MIL, I don't want to be a trustee for her, this situation is awkward all around, and I already have too much on my plate to deal with nonsense like this.
Anyhow, thanks for letting me spout off. I need to get back to my bees now. 60,000 bees per hive, each one driving towards a common goal - the survival of the hive. I can really appreciate the order they represent....
Monday, April 20, 2009
Beating my head against the wall
I so feel like I am fighting a losing battle. I should not feel like I am in a battle, or fighting, or losing....
We have decided that my hubby does better with a written list of things-to-do. I write the list, go over it with him, then get started on my day. That does not always work, but it is a good starting point.
The other day, #1 on the list was "Find me when the nanny gets here." I pointed it out to him, and made certain he understood I had a job for him once someone came around to watch the kids. At least, I thought he understood. He sent the nanny out to me. Twice. I told her (in Spanish) that Dave did not understand, I want Dave to come out for a few minutes. The nanny is a good woman, but she speaks broken English with a strong accent, and Dave has trouble talking and hearing.... Who's on First comes to mind.
Today, I asked Dave to swap car seats for me. It wasn't on the list, but he did it. It was a complicated matter, involving removing the strollers (yes, plural) so he could access Rowan's car seat for me, putting the strollers in the garage, and transferring the car seat in such a manner that Rowan would be safe. And he did all that just fine. I did not ask him to close the back end of the vehicle when he was done, so he stopped after transferring the carseat. Since it was pouring down rain, things got a bit wet...
And, like many men, he does not understand that he is not supposed to be our daughter's best friend. If she misbehaves at lunch, you do not give her popcorn and send her to her room. Talk about mixed messages! And then he wonders why she doesn't take a nap, or listens to what he has to say. He told me he was being nice to her. He is supposed to be her daddy, not her best friend. A 3-year-old will eat popcorn and candy all day if allowed. The daddy is supposed to say, "No".
So where does this leave me?
I'm the mean mommy, I guess. Dave is frustrated with the necessity of me having to write a list for him everyday, but he prefers it to no list. He is tired of realizing that there are some things he just doesn't get. Rowan acts out cause she doesn't understand the mixed messages she gets. She behaves much better for me than for Dave, but I can't have her in the office with my 24/7.
I have a friend who is into the entire domination/submissive subculture (he's a dom). I think about him periodically these days. He has a few women who live with him and he takes care of them. Sex aside, my understanding is that he does not leave them wanting for anything, as long as they do what he tells them to do. The situation seems to work for them. I can see how it would be a good relationship, if the trust really is there.
There is another guy I know in the dom/sub subculture. He wanted me to dom him, but that is another story, best told over several drinks. He was married, with kids. I asked him why he did not bring his wife into this lifestyle. His wife, he said, was his partner, not his master, and it was best to keep the two lifestyles separate.
I find myself thinking of these things recently. I take care of the bills, manage the money, figure out what we can afford to do and when to do it, find activities for the kids, direct the husband, nanny, kids, business. I am seeing myself more and more in a dom-type role. Problem is, I signed on for a partnership, and Dave is no longer a partner. He wants me to handle the money, he wants to be taken care of, he wants me to tell him what to do. I kinda feel like if this new role came with an instruction booklet, maybe I would cope better myself.
Well, what started as an obvious rant on life seems to have denigrated into a bit more insight into my personal life than I intended. Looking back on what I have read, I think I will leave it at that. Maybe someone can recommend a good book.
We have decided that my hubby does better with a written list of things-to-do. I write the list, go over it with him, then get started on my day. That does not always work, but it is a good starting point.
The other day, #1 on the list was "Find me when the nanny gets here." I pointed it out to him, and made certain he understood I had a job for him once someone came around to watch the kids. At least, I thought he understood. He sent the nanny out to me. Twice. I told her (in Spanish) that Dave did not understand, I want Dave to come out for a few minutes. The nanny is a good woman, but she speaks broken English with a strong accent, and Dave has trouble talking and hearing.... Who's on First comes to mind.
Today, I asked Dave to swap car seats for me. It wasn't on the list, but he did it. It was a complicated matter, involving removing the strollers (yes, plural) so he could access Rowan's car seat for me, putting the strollers in the garage, and transferring the car seat in such a manner that Rowan would be safe. And he did all that just fine. I did not ask him to close the back end of the vehicle when he was done, so he stopped after transferring the carseat. Since it was pouring down rain, things got a bit wet...
And, like many men, he does not understand that he is not supposed to be our daughter's best friend. If she misbehaves at lunch, you do not give her popcorn and send her to her room. Talk about mixed messages! And then he wonders why she doesn't take a nap, or listens to what he has to say. He told me he was being nice to her. He is supposed to be her daddy, not her best friend. A 3-year-old will eat popcorn and candy all day if allowed. The daddy is supposed to say, "No".
So where does this leave me?
I'm the mean mommy, I guess. Dave is frustrated with the necessity of me having to write a list for him everyday, but he prefers it to no list. He is tired of realizing that there are some things he just doesn't get. Rowan acts out cause she doesn't understand the mixed messages she gets. She behaves much better for me than for Dave, but I can't have her in the office with my 24/7.
I have a friend who is into the entire domination/submissive subculture (he's a dom). I think about him periodically these days. He has a few women who live with him and he takes care of them. Sex aside, my understanding is that he does not leave them wanting for anything, as long as they do what he tells them to do. The situation seems to work for them. I can see how it would be a good relationship, if the trust really is there.
There is another guy I know in the dom/sub subculture. He wanted me to dom him, but that is another story, best told over several drinks. He was married, with kids. I asked him why he did not bring his wife into this lifestyle. His wife, he said, was his partner, not his master, and it was best to keep the two lifestyles separate.
I find myself thinking of these things recently. I take care of the bills, manage the money, figure out what we can afford to do and when to do it, find activities for the kids, direct the husband, nanny, kids, business. I am seeing myself more and more in a dom-type role. Problem is, I signed on for a partnership, and Dave is no longer a partner. He wants me to handle the money, he wants to be taken care of, he wants me to tell him what to do. I kinda feel like if this new role came with an instruction booklet, maybe I would cope better myself.
Well, what started as an obvious rant on life seems to have denigrated into a bit more insight into my personal life than I intended. Looking back on what I have read, I think I will leave it at that. Maybe someone can recommend a good book.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Maybe he is just being a guy....
I have almost decided that Dave did not have a stroke. He is just being a guy, and figured out how to get away with it.
Other people periodically ask me about Dave, and in my lower moments, I commiserate about how it gets tiring to have to remind him to flush the toilet, brush his teeth, feed the kids, go to the doctor's office. What I invariably get from everyone is, "Oh, my husband is like that, too!"
Then there are the times like today. We were at our daughter's pre-K, and they were having their Easter party, since next week is Spring Break. I asked Dave to get the camera out of the trunk of the car so we could take pictures.
"At home?"
"No, in the trunk of the car."
"In the back room at home?"
"No, in the trunk of the car."
"The car at home?"
"No, the car here. The trunk of the car here." (Gesturing towards the parking lot.)
"That car? Our car?"
"Yes. That car. In the trunk. In the back." (Gesture towards the car, then behind me as I pantomine driving the car. The kids are starting to think this is a great game.)
"Where in car."
"In the trunk. There is a basket." (I indicate a round basket with my hands, then pretend to pick it up by the handles and carry it.)
"In our car?"
"Yes. Our car. There. In the trunk. You will see it on top of the basket." (I use our sign for "look", then indicate a basket again.)
The kids are getting ready for an Easter Egg Hunt. The 3-year olds completely get the basket idea. Basket. Car. Right.
So, he goes out to the car. I can see through the window. He spends 10 minutes checking the back seat, moving papers, looking under the seat. He finally opens the trunk, immediately sees the camera, and comes back inside.
I don't want to hear how your husband is "just like that".
Other people periodically ask me about Dave, and in my lower moments, I commiserate about how it gets tiring to have to remind him to flush the toilet, brush his teeth, feed the kids, go to the doctor's office. What I invariably get from everyone is, "Oh, my husband is like that, too!"
Then there are the times like today. We were at our daughter's pre-K, and they were having their Easter party, since next week is Spring Break. I asked Dave to get the camera out of the trunk of the car so we could take pictures.
"At home?"
"No, in the trunk of the car."
"In the back room at home?"
"No, in the trunk of the car."
"The car at home?"
"No, the car here. The trunk of the car here." (Gesturing towards the parking lot.)
"That car? Our car?"
"Yes. That car. In the trunk. In the back." (Gesture towards the car, then behind me as I pantomine driving the car. The kids are starting to think this is a great game.)
"Where in car."
"In the trunk. There is a basket." (I indicate a round basket with my hands, then pretend to pick it up by the handles and carry it.)
"In our car?"
"Yes. Our car. There. In the trunk. You will see it on top of the basket." (I use our sign for "look", then indicate a basket again.)
The kids are getting ready for an Easter Egg Hunt. The 3-year olds completely get the basket idea. Basket. Car. Right.
So, he goes out to the car. I can see through the window. He spends 10 minutes checking the back seat, moving papers, looking under the seat. He finally opens the trunk, immediately sees the camera, and comes back inside.
I don't want to hear how your husband is "just like that".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
