Daddy

I have been catching up on some of my reading here and there today, and as I read many posts honoring Dads I felt I had to write a bit about my own.

Mom, me and my dad, probably 1951. I recognize the lace work on my grandmother's couch, so it must be at their place.  No idea what everyone is so excited about!

My Daddy has always been bigger than life to me.  He was a little scary when I was a little kid.  He sometimes yelled, and believed in "spare the rod and spoil the child".  I wasn't spoiled.  But, he also really liked to have fun.  So, I remember lots of parties with several of my parents friends growing up.  Everyone would gather at someone's house, including all the kids, and while the parents drank and played cards, the kids ran wild.  We played outside on hot summer nights, long past dark, until one of the parents would notice we were all missing and someone would come looking for us.  Our favorite party place was what I considered way out in the country at Uncle Kenny and Aunt Mary's. I was practically grown before I realized they weren't related to us, but were my folks best friends from high school. Uncle Kenny had 40 acres, and was a logger.  He had a huge old logging truck that us kids climbed all over.  They had a big old barn, full of hay, mice and the best rope swing in the world.  There was always a barn cat having kittens it seemed, and we cuddled them and played with them until, inevitably, Uncle Kenny found them.  His solution to being overrun with cats was to put those sweet babies in a gunny sack and drown them in the creek.  I guess no one considered having the barn cats spayed. 

Kenny and my dad were best and loyal friends from the time they met until Kenny died of lung cancer, about 12 or 13 years ago. In fact, my dad has stayed friends with most of the guys he went to school with.  Every month, whoever is around meets at a bagel shop downtown and they reminisce.  He keeps all his friends for life, but he's buried a lot of them. 

When I was nine, my mom died suddenly of a brain aneurysm.  My dad was home on vacation that day, building a rock wall out front.  When my three-year-old brother came running out of the house crying that mamma needs him, Dad rushed into the house to find my mom unable to respond.  There was no 911 in those days, so he carried her to the car, and I guess a neighbor came out and took my brother. 

Dad did the first thing that came to mind and drove mom to her doctor, and from there an ambulance took her to the hospital.  She never came home, and my dad fell apart. He didn't know how to live without my mom.  He withdrew from all of us, and found a series of live in housekeepers to keep an eye on his three kids.  (I never knew why we went through three of them in less than nine months, but we did. ) I have only pieces of memory from that first year without my mom, and hardly remember my dad being home at all.  I don't remember dinner, or school, or who my friends were.  I do remember my dad waking me up about 4:30 every morning to go sleep in his room with my little brother, as David would sob uncontrollably when my dad left, and I was to console him.  I don't remember if I did or not.  

My mom died on September 15, and by June my dad had already had a couple of girlfriends.  One we liked.  She was older, and had kids that were older, but they were fun and had a neat cabin in Grays Harbor that we enjoyed going to.  But, Dad met someone who I guess swept him off his feet because before we knew what happened, we were moved into her house and they were married. I was ten and a half, and for my siblings and I,  life was to become a living hell.  

Our new stepmom was insane.  She was all nice in public and crazy when it was just her and us kids.  She kept us in the basement (which wasn't finished and spooky as all get out!) when she wasn't locking us out of the house.  Before long, we had another baby brother, (took me years to figure out the timing!) and suddenly, she treated me better, as I was the perfect age for learning childcare.  I think I changed more diapers, and fed him more bottles, than she did.  My little sister and brother were still banished to the basement.

Somehow, life kept going.  Once in awhile, we got to go spend the night with one of our grandparents.  Sometimes it was our mom's mom, the sweetest woman who ever walked the earth. I remember that we got a bath at her house, and she would wash my sister's and my hair with Breck shampoo and set it in pin curls for church on Sunday.  Now, most people wouldn't consider that a good memory, but remembering the feel her loving and gentle hands combing through my long hair, and caressing  the side of my face brings tears to my eyes, even now. 

We also got to stay with my dad's folks some weekends.  On those Saturdays we piled in their old woody station wagon and headed for Portland to my Uncle Sol's store for groceries.  We always got ice cream bars, and would get to pick a toy to bring home. Grandma and Grandpa had a great Craftsman home with a full basement, complete with a grand piano (a sweet story for another time) and a slant roofed upstairs with oodles of antiques. My cousins and I tore apart an old typewriter one time that was up there, never in a million years thinking it was a treasure and nearly got the living daylights whipped out of us!  When I learned as an adult that it belonged to my great grandmother, who wrote volumes on it, and later published her own newspaper in the 1930's, I was too late, sadly remorseful.  (Fortunately, I have many of her original stories and articles, no doubt typed on that very typewriter, so I feel a little better!)

In the meantime, life went on and on.  I started junior high, mortified when I was forced to wear the same outfit the entire week, as well as nylons that were snagged and had runs.  On top of that, my stepmom started telling me not to ever  be alone with my dad, as he might "do bad things to me".  I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it was enough to scare me.  I stayed out of his way, which wasn't too hard.  He was still leaving for work around 4:30, and getting home about 5:30.  He was, in his own words, "Just a worn out bread man" who drove to Portland, loaded his bread truck, drove a route that was hours long to dinky little towns an hour or more out, then back to the bakery, unloaded his truck, did his route book, and fought the traffic back across the bridge to Washington.  Once he was home, my stepmom insisted on them going square dancing, nearly every night.  We had babysitters (my step mom's nieces) more for the baby's sake than my sister, brother and I.

One day my dad asked me to come outside with him and help him repair the fence.  I didn't want to do it.  When he started asking me questions about what happened when he was at work, I didn't want to answer.  Eventually, I broke down and told him some of what was going on.  I can't remember all the details, but later we were all at my grandparents house, and there was a huge fight.  I guess my grandparents had noticed how us kids were changing, and I think that's probably what prompted my dad to talk to me.  (I should say that when he was home, our stepmom acted "normal".  She fixed dinner, we were allowed to be upstairs to watch TV, so it took awhile for my dad to start noticing anything unusual.) 

Also at this time, the principal at the grade school (who was our old neighbor, in fact, his wife was my girl scout leader when my mom was alive) was noticing my little brother, by then in first grade, acting sort of traumatized.  He would hang onto his teacher, not wanting to go home.

Anyway, things got pretty ugly and one night dad came downstairs (where my sister and I had bedrooms that were sort of finished by then) and woke us up.  He told us to grab what we needed, we were leaving.  And, to make this long story much shorter, we got our daddy back.

He was a man determined to make up for lost time.  As an adult I learned how much he regretted his behavior, and he has shed quite a few tears with us over the years.  We all forgave him, sheesh, we've all had some rough stuff to get through.  

The dad I remember after he left our stepmom (and ultimately his youngest son) was vastly different. We went on many trips to the beach, with the radio blaring and my dad singing along to the Beatles songs of 1964.  He renewed his many friendships (given up during his marriage to the wicked witch of the northwest).  We moved back into the house we had lived in when our mom was alive. (That wasn't so great.  It made us all miss our mom so much, she was everywhere, but nowhere.)  On Valentine's Day, our dad went on a blind date and met June.  She had three kids, the same ages as us kids.  He had just bought a brand new 1965 Volkswagon Bug, and boy did we get the stares when all eight of us would crawl out of that thing at McDonald's. We were a real live Brady Bunch and they got married on Father's Day, 1965. 

We sold our house, June sold her house, and they bought a rambling six bedroom house out in the country (at least at that time!) surrounded by strawberry and raspberry fields.  We were a family, in the truest sense of the word.  Our summers were spent on crazy road trips to visit relatives all over, dragging first the Bug (as a camping trailer full of our stuff) and later a tent trailer behind a 1966 VW bus.  It was chaos, crazy, noisy, with furious arguments and tearful hugs.  We never had a lot of money, but we were pretty happy.  June was a perfect mom, alternately loving and irritating.  

Tomorrow we'll gather at my brothers for our traditional Father's Day celebration.  We'll eat too much, reminisce, laugh uncontrollably as we tell the same old stories and our spouses roll their eyes.  We'll think about mom, who we always thought of as the glue that held us together, and who has been gone now from Alzheimers since 1996.  

My dad has outlived his two great loves, with a four year nightmare in between.  He's been a darn good dad, and we have discovered that he is our glue that holds us together. Each time I see him I always fleetingly wonder, "Will this be the last time?" But, I don't dwell on it.  He's my daddy, and I appreciate every moment I am able to spend with him.  

Me and my Daddy, 2011

He's 84, but in pretty good shape for an old bread man. 

Summer Explosion!

It's June, and there has been an explosion within the walls of the Babbitt home.  I'd take pictures, but it's mortifying!  

It all started last weekend.  David and I drove  to Ellensburg on Friday to attend Nick's last Jazz concert, which was fabulous and well worth the harrowing drive over via highway 12, which I don't recommend if you're in a hurry to travel east!  David was driving "like a teenager" and got us there in record time, 3 hours and 45 minutes.  I was alternately gritting my teeth or loudly complaining.  (Anyone who knows my husband knows him as a pretty laid back guy.  He isn't typically a fast driver!) But, I didn't get out of my doctor appointment until 3 pm, and the concert began at 7 pm.  We were pretty sure we were going to be late arriving as it's a 4 hour (and 2 minute) drive according to Google Maps!

But, Kailyn was waiting for us with our tickets and we arrived in the "nick" of time.  Nick's parents were there, so we all visited with one another between sets and made plans to meet in Paris for dinner on our last night there in June!

On Saturday, Nick drove us to a wonderful scenic area.

Clever sign telling us that "No Vehicles" are allowed!

We hiked for awhile,

David, Kailyn and Nick

Glorious sunny morning!

. . . then treated the kids to lunch and picked up a few boxes of Kailyn's to bring home with us. 

We headed in a northwesterly direction for our next stop on the whirlwind weekend, Bellingham.  David drove mostly sedately, yet we still arrived about 15 minutes ahead of the time quoted on Google Maps . . . less than three hours after leaving Ellensburg.  Traffic must have been light.  I was furiously working on grades for report cards so I have no idea what was happening outside the van!

After checking into our motel, we drove over to my aunt and uncle's home. My uncle is my dad's half brother, and only a few years older than I am.  My "aunt" is actually five months younger than I am, and we rediscovered each other about 18 years ago at a family reunion.  Typically, we manage to see each other a couple times a year, but it had been well over a year since the last visit, so we had some catching up to do.  We enjoyed several hours with them, and retired to our motel around 10 pm.

The next morning, we were surprised by a phone call from Jess about 8:30, letting us know she was up and ready for breakfast!  As she had numerous "Good Bye" parties the night before, we were surprised by the early call!  

Neither of us had been to her most recent residence, so we broke out the iPad and Google Maps, then drove straight over. (I just love that bouncing blue ball!)

Jess in front of "The Convent" a well known house rented by Western college girls.  Her room is on the left, what was originally the parlor.  The fireplace is no longer functioning, but the built in book shelves were cool.  I loved the windows and all the little nooks and crannies in this house.  I didn't take photos though, as it was wall to wall with six college girl's belongings!







We drove Jessica's car over to Arlisses Cafe for a delicious breakfast, then returned her and retrieved our very loaded van to begin the last link of our journey, homeward bound.  I looked at David as we pulled away from Bellingham and said, "Babbitt's Moving and Storage . . . here we go again!"

View looking back from the passenger seat!

Again, the traveling was smooth and easy, and we arrived home late afternoon, weary, but knowing we needed to unload before we could relax and set to it.  Finally, we were able to manhandle the seats back into the van. We called it a night and went to bed exhausted!

Sometime in the middle of the night, Jessica must have arrived home, with all that was left of her worldly possessions.  I could tell she was home by the trail leading from the front door of the house.  But, she surprised me at school on Monday, showing up while I was in the computer lab with the kids, and she spent part of every day this past week with us.  With her able assistance, we managed to get all of our last minute projects completed and have the room ready for "Pride Night" on Thursday. My usual end of the year exhaustion caught up with me early and I had a sore throat begin that afternoon.  I was doubly grateful for her generous gift of time in the classroom, and she helped organize, sort and put away books on Friday afternoon while I worked on report cards. 

Last night Kailyn and Nick arrived, and moved the rest of her belongings into the garage and her bedroom.  I haven't been out to the garage because I am afraid of what I will find!  Somehow, I hope to return my van to it's rightful spot in the garage before we leave a week from next Tuesday for Europe.  

Today, the girls will be frantically doing laundry, and packing for their dream trip to France.  Nick's flight is about six hours ahead of theirs, and he will meet them at the airport when they arrive in Paris. David will drop them at the Portland airport tomorrow morning, and we'll catch up with them in Manchester, England on June 20.

I have one more week of school to get through, but I'm in good shape.  I've been sorting and recycling and giving away for several weeks, and I think I will be able to check out on Friday afternoon.  I've written my little "Promotion" speech, and already shed a few tears as I contemplate saying "Good Bye" to this year's class.  Each one stands out for something; every year I remember something unique about the little group that becomes my "day family".  This year, the word that comes to mind is "companionable".  These kids got along so well together!  It was a rare day when someone hurt someone else's feelings.  They never complained about working with a partner, no matter who they were partnered with, and helped each other succeed in so many ways.  It was by far the most harmonious class I've ever had, and I will miss them. 

Next Tuesday I have been invited to attend the graduation of the first class I taught.  They were second graders then, and while the year was truly a trial by fire, I've stayed in touch with many of the families, and frequently the kids.  I received six graduation announcements, two tickets to graduation, and several party invitations, but ended up being sick this weekend, so I was unable to attend most of the parties, which made me very sad!

I will attend the graduation, and I know I'll be remembering these accomplished young people as second graders. And, one more time, be grateful for the opportunity to make a difference in their lives.

After spending the past two hours putting this post together, I am reminded of why I haven't been writing much lately!  I just can't seem to find the time!  I apologize for not keeping up with blogs, and I know I'm missing out.  Sadly, I don't see life slowing down until after we are home from vacation in July.  I will be taking lots of photos, and will maybe learn how to load them onto the iPad. (I bought the adapter I needed, but I haven't tried to use it yet! And my in-house tech support team will be gone tomorrow!)

Happy June to everyone!  I'll be catching up when I'm able! 

  

Sleep Study Results

I had my appointment with the "sleep doctor" today, and received the results from my sleep study a few weeks ago.

It turns out my husband wasn't kidding about my snoring.  In fact, I will never again complain about him wearing ear plugs at night.  All those years I thought he was just trying to get out of getting up with crying babies and barking dogs!

I need to nominate this poor man for sainthood!  My sleep study showed that I basically snore non-stop all night long. When I looked at the print out, it showed some areas that were solid with snoring.  Sheesh!

The doctor said that I just have a mild case of sleep apnea, although I woke on average about 13 times per hour.  My REM sleep was less than normal, probably due to frequent waking, I guess.

After much discussion, we decided that I will come in for another study next Friday night, and try using  a cpap machine to see if it relieves the snoring.  She said that is likely my biggest issue.

Of course, dropping some weight would probably help, although I remember my first husband telling me I snored (which I never believed!) and that was over 35 years ago, and I was a normal weight!

Anyway, I am so tired of being exhausted when I wake up that I'm willing to get hooked to a machine if it will help me sleep. The doctor said some folks find that using the machine gives them new energy, which leads to a desire to exercise and eventual weight loss.  That would be a nice bonus!


Mother's Day photo

We had such a lovely time last weekend.  Jessica and Brandon arrived right around lunch time on Saturday and we visited awhile before leaving for Powell's Book Store.  I found a driving map of France and a copy of Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island, which I've been wanting to read for ages!

Later, Jessica's best friend Elisa, and her husband Jeremiah, came over for barbecued salmon and burgers.  It was such a treat to hang out with the "kids" and catch up on their lives.  The two couples went out later, and I went to bed feeling satiated; joy filled, and fully blessed.

On Sunday, we all got up fairly early and I fixed breakfast while David and Brandon talked golf and the girls serenaded us . . . 

As we gathered around the table, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  My girls were home, our first Mother's Day together in five years, and I truly felt all was right with my world.  We all enjoyed meeting Brandon and getting to know him.  He and Jess seem like a very good match.  Time will tell . . .

Just before Jessica and Brandon left, the girls gave me their gifts.  Jess wrote a beautiful poem "When I smell lilacs, I think of you", which made me alternately laugh out loud and cry. Kailyn gave me a darling homemade card and a book Jane Kirkpatrick wrote about Hulda Klager called, "Where Lilacs Still Bloom".  She knew I would love it!  Neither of them knew the other was doing something related to lilacs, and it was such a special bonus!

David, Kailyn and I left for church, and on the way, I decided I needed to have photos of each of the girls with the newest lilac I bought at Hulda Klager's. I called Jess and asked her if Brandon would take a picture for me.

Kailyn with our new little lilac!

Kailyn's car needed repair work, so I drove her back to school.  We both love road trips, no matter where we are going, so we had a nice long visit enroute to Central.  I didn't hang out very long, as I knew the return trip wouldn't be quite as pleasant.  It turned out I witnessed a gorgeous sunset just as I made the turn into the gorge. I had forgotten my camera at home, and attempted photos with my phone, but wasn't happy with them.

Surprisingly, the time passed quickly as I cheerfully traveled down the highway singing along with the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel.  Once I was home, I texted Kailyn to let her know, and was snug in my bed by 10:30!

What a lovely weekend!

Musings About Mothering

Mother's Day . . . just thinking about the day stirs up a whirlwind of emotions with a hurricane force that are hard to hold down long enough to even write about.  My first Mother's Day, I don't even remember well.  I had a six month old son; I'm fairly sure it was spent with my parents and siblings and the beginnings of what would become dozens of grandchildren.  I think I took it for granted, yeah, I'm a mom, no big deal, it happens to a lot of people.  Women have babies every day, nothing special about that.

Fast forward to my fourteenth Mother's Day.  I have a photo (that I can't find!) of my son Chris, smiling at his new, long hoped for baby sister Jessica, who is not quite three months old.  I'm looking puffy, exhausted, overweight and kind of shell shocked at the miracle of Jessica's coming into this world.

I'm not sure if we took pictures every Mother's Day, but on my sixteenth day of celebration, I have another baby girl, not quite two months old, and there is no doubt about it, I am one weary mom.

Chris holding Jessica (2 years) and sleeping Kailyn (2 months)

There are many photos over the years of the girls and I, sometimes dressed in matching outfits (I sewed, and, I thought it was cute.  What can I say??)  (of course, I can't find any of them at the moment!)

On my 29th Mother's Day, Chris wrote me a long, three page poem, full of love, appreciation for his life, and gratefulness that he had me as his mom. I sobbed through it the first time I read it, and it will always be the most precious gift he ever gave me.  He wrote other poems too, but that one I especially treasure.

The girls have given me many, many lovely handmade cards, and beautiful gifts for Mother's Day.

2009 Mother's Day Hike at Eagle Creek

Hard to read . . . I can't remember what year this was.  Neither of the girls remember to date their offerings, and I neglect to in the moment!  I do remember this is from Jess!

Another one that is a little hard to read, but so sweet!  Kailyn surprised me with this her freshman year at Central.  David and I had driven over for Jazz weekend.  The larger words are all hand stitched, but it's a little difficult to tell.

One of several poems Jess has written for me.  She truly has a way with words.

I nearly always attend church on Mother's Day, and I nearly always cry at least a little.  The year after Chris died, I seem to remember sobbing so much I had to get up and leave.  I'm crying now, just thinking about no more Chris.

Sometimes, it makes me mad that I am sitting there crying over Chris, surrounded by my husband and usually one or both daughters, and I'm mad at Chris. Damn him for messing up my life and ruining my Mother's Day.

Of course, within seconds, I'm remorseful, and awash with gratefulness, that God made me a mother, and so generously gifted me with three incredible human beings who have called me "mom".  Chris didn't "ruin" my mother's day, anymore than my mom's death "ruined" my life. Sometimes I'm ashamed of myself for even thinking those thoughts.  But, I do think them once in awhile.  I guess that's part of living, that dying is what we all do, and, we have a choice  of how we will respond when life isn't "going our way".  Funny thing, we don't seem to be in charge of those events though, do we?

I know that it is my choice how I view my life, as either "half full" or half empty" and, most of the time, (these days, anyway) I see it as more than half full.  While I can't go so far as to say I'm glad I've experienced the losses I've had, I can say that what I've learned, and what I've gained from these losses are immeasurable. There's no better way to build compassion and empathy that to suffer loss. And, there's no better way to develop a rich appreciation for the minutest moments, than to be painfully aware that "this could be the last time" at all times.

Last night, Kailyn drove home from Ellensburg in time for us to make it to over to the high school to watch "Hello Dolly", something we've been planning for a few weeks.  The musical was fantastic, as usual, and it was thrilling to reconnect with several of my former students who played various roles.  The light technician was one of those special kids I had when I taught both second and fifth grades, and he completed his senior project as a volunteer in my classroom. I discovered about a third of the orchestra were also "my kids".

Teaching is another form of mothering.   I definitely feel a mothers pride when I watch my former second and fifth graders belting out a song, or dancing across the stage, all grown up in high school. I am grateful to have the incredible opportunity to "teach and reach" kids. As I was enveloped within the enthusiastic and loving hugs I received last night, I reveled in the perks that come from my nurturing in the classroom.

Today, Jessica is bringing "the boy" (aka Brandon) home to meet us for the first time.  She tells me the relationship is becoming "serious" and I'm filled with equal parts of anticipation and anxiety.  I have cleaned house like a dervish (directly related to an earlier post on incentive!)  David just hosed off the deck. Jessica's best friend, Elisa, (who is like a third daughter to me) and her husband are also coming for dinner, so we'll have a party tonight.  I'm looking forward to having "my kids" home, and it seems like an added bonus that it's also Mother's Day weekend.

I wish for all my blogging friends a wonderful weekend, whether you are honoring your mother, being  honored as a mother, or celebrating the sunshine with friends.  We are all nurturers, and we all deserve a day that is ours to enjoy, in whatever form that pleasure takes.

Sleep Study

I spent last night wired up, literally, for a sleep study.  It all came about due to my complaining at my annual checkup about being forever tired.  I yawn all day, have little energy and wake up groggy and tired.  It takes me hours to get moving, and I'm not sure if it's just age, or what.  My doctor suggested a "sleep study", so I grudgingly made the first appointment.

While I was home after my upper GI a few weeks ago, the sleep study people called to say there was a cancellation, and would I like to come in that morning?  I was pretty groggy, but, ecstatic about not having to make more sub plans for a later date and said, "Sure!"

I was asked a billion questions, and before leaving, I made an appointment to return for my sleep study on  Saturday night, May 5.  I was to arrive at 7:55 PM, and would be released at 6 AM Sunday morning. (I know, what was I thinking??? )

Then, I proceded to have nightmares about the process for the next three weeks while I waited anxiously for last night to arrive.  My biggest fears were not sleeping at all, and not being able to get up to use the restroom, and the fact that the restroom was "down the hall".  I knew there were wires involved, and that I would be videotaped and observed the whole night long.  Frankly, it creeped me out, almost enough to cancel the appointment!

Yesterday, I went hiking with my friend, Tina, at Round Lake.  The creek was amazing, and while it threatened to rain, it didn't.  We hiked a little over three miles, through a considerable amount of mud (I forgot to take pictures, DJan!) It was great to get outside and off the neighborhood sidewalk!  I used my hiking poles on the steep and muddy areas, and discovered that they kept "slipping" and I couldn't get them tightened enough.  Today we're taking them back to REI and getting some lessons!

A very rain swollen Lacamas Creek!

As we caught up on the news in our families, I mentioned my upcoming nightmare.
Tina told me her husband had just went through the process a few weeks ago, and that she would have him call me when he got home from fishing that night.  Matt called about 40 minutes before we were to leave, and prepared me for the experience.  In some ways, it was going to be worse than I imagined, but, he did say he was impressed with the data collection and information during his follow up appointment.  Still, when my husband and I left the house, I was in a high state of anxiety and pretty darn crabby about going through the whole thing.  I said, "I wish it was you doing this! In fact, I think it should be you instead of me!" In typical fashion, David basically ignored my ranting.

We arrived, and there were no cars at the front door, where we were to meet the "sleep technician".
As we drove to the other side of the building, we saw a small group of people waiting at the opposite door.  David parked.  I screeched, "Are you just going to leave me with those total strangers??"

"No, I'm going to walk in with you, and make sure we're in the right place," was his irritatingly calm reply.

The technician, a sweet smiling young lady who appeared to be about 12, welcomed us into the building.  The other man's wife and son were going upstairs with him, but I just sent David off with a quick kiss and the terse request to be back not one minute later than 6:30 Sunday morning.  Then, I grumpily got into the elevator with the others. No one said a word as we traveled up to the fourth floor.

I was shown to "sleep room three" and entered the sparsely furnished mini bedroom consisting of a double bed, two end tables (that's all that fit on that wall) one utilitarian chair and a small cabinet with a sink and a mirror.  There was a microscopic tv mounted in the corner, with a screen about the size of my laptop. (I didn't plan on watching it, fortunately!) While I waited for my turn to be "wired" I got into my sleep clothes.  Feeling a little antsy, I attempted to correct a few writing papers, but sitting in the uncomfortable chair and leaning on the bed for a desk wasn't working out very well. I decided I wasn't in a positive, teacher-friendly frame of mind, and abandoned the papers just as the technician tapped on my door.

Tiffany proved herself to be endearingly patient.  It wasn't long before we were chatting amiably about her upcoming delayed honeymoon, and my upcoming travels to Europe, as she went through the 40 minute process of wiring me up.  She refilled my water bottle with filtered water, and graciously heated up my "heat 'em up" bag that I must have between my knees to sleep (probably 90% psychological, but nevertheless, I drag it with me everywhere I go.  And, yes, it will go to Europe with me, whether I am able to "heat it up" or not!)

All wired up . . . and smiling!  That Tiffany was a sweetheart!

I couldn't hold my hair up and take the picture, but

believe me, there are eight wires attached on various parts

of my head with some sort of gunk that was a bit difficult to wash out.

(My husband thought the top was shaved, but it isn't; just looks like it!)

About 9:30 I took my Ambien (I knew I would get zero sleep if I didn't!) and by 10:45 I was sleepy enough to start my sleep study!  Lights out, and try to get comfortable!  Luckily, I also brought my own pillow, so that helped considerably.

At least three times during the night, Tiffany came in and had to reattach a wire that had loosened and fallen off (luckily, not on my head, as if that happened she had to get out the "super cement" and I didn't want that!)  I accidentally pulled off one from each lower leg, and the oxygen one attached to my finger out of the wall.  I also woke often (as usual) but fell back asleep within a few minutes, thankful for the Ambien.

I wasn't sure exactly what time I woke up fully (but figured it was around 5 AM, and discovered later I was right!) but, after many minutes of not going back to sleep, and needing to use the restroom, I called for Tiffany.  She helped me get unplugged from the wall, and once I'd gone to the facilities, I knew I wouldn't be going back to sleep.  She said we could end the sleep study a few minutes early, (it was about 5:45 by then) and she began un-wiring me, a much quicker process!

After getting dressed and washing what marks I could off my face, I called David to pick me up. Tiffany couldn't tell me much about the results, saying that the doctor would go over them with me at my next appointment, which is May 18.  She was able to tell me that I didn't exhibit enough sleep apnea for her to bring me a cpap (I think that's what she called it) during the night, but that it didn't mean the doctor might not recommend it at a later time.  So, I wait and see what I will learn about my sleep patterns, and what, if anything, I can do to help myself feel more rested.

Until then, the dreaded sleep study ordeal is over.  It wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated.  I don't feel any more tired (or less) than I usually do. 

And, I am ready to head over to REI and see what I can learn about these hiking poles.  Although I was a little achy after the hike, I iced and feel pretty good today.  Kailyn will be home next weekend, so I'm looking forward to the possibility of another hike with her!

PS ~ Thanks for all the great comments when I couldn't find the dashboard.  I can find it with consistency now!  (Which means, I need to find some time to read and comment this afternoon!)

HELP! I can't find my dashboard or complete blog list!

Hello all!  Happy Belated May Day . . . but that isn't the reason for this blog.  Instead this is just a brief cry for help. I am trying, but I can't seem to find the "dashboard", which is where I used to check out recent blogs.  There are a few that show up at the end of my blog, but it isn't complete.

I'm not so fond of this new look on Blogger!

Is there anyone who can help me?

Thanks!

Incentive

The lilacs from my tree are fragrant and appreciated this year.

Jess and David, Easter Sunday, 

in front of the "not yet blooming" lilac tree

  

View from the back yard . . .

  

 a different view, from the deck

Incentive . . . 

What moves you?  Or rather, what moves you to . . . well . . . move?

I need something to give me the incentive to move, whether it is getting out for a walk, cleaning my house, writing a post, or correcting papers.

Usually, the incentive is, real or imagined, urgency.  I can get an incredible amount of clutter picked up in ten minutes if someone calls and says "Hey, we're in the neighborhood, just checking to see if you're home!" After 20+ years of marriage, David automatically pitches in and grabs the vacuum for the relentless black dog hair that covers every surface, seemingly within moments of being vacuumed!

Lately my incentive to get myself out of the house for a walk has been my upcoming trip to Europe, and knowing I want to be able to walk long distances to enjoy all the sights.  I'm still fighting some pain, but I'm up to a consistent 1.15 miles, with slight up and downhill sections.  Next week, I push it out to 1.5, I'm hoping.  Nikki isn't the best walking partner, as she pulls me.  So, we walk with me holding a morsel of dog treat in my hand that is next to her, and I am saying constantly, "Stay close, Nik, stay close."  It works, most of the time.  We both need the exercise!

And, because the end of the year is nearing at breakneck speed, it's super hard to get enthusiastic about correcting papers and recording scores . . . I'm exhausted before I even get started! I ask myself almost daily, "Why oh why do I assign so much work?" I can count on a good 2-4 hours each weekend of catch up, not counting what I do nightly. I know teachers who "recycle" papers; I just can't.  I have to write all over them, in my attempt to guide and encourage and correct! Some students read and appreciate my efforts, and I do it for them!

I have a million post topics racing around in my brain, but finding the time to force myself to sit and write, and edit, and revise, and find photos, and mess with inserting them, and now, trying to figure out the new blogger . . . I find myself reading other blogs instead of writing my own! (But, today, I'm going to post, come you know what!)

Last weekend, my incentive to get out of the house was twofold, gorgeous sunshine and Kailyn being home for a visit. It wasn't too tough to push myself out the door!



First stop was "Real Deals" in Battle Ground.  I bought the blue birdbath above to put in my old cement one, as the cement no longer holds water.  It's been patched a dozen times, has been in the same spot for over 20 years, and grown rather mossy over time.  (I happen to love it to death.  My uncle had a cement works and made it about 40 years ago, and I inherited it, and cherish it, despite it's lack of water holding capacity!) It also leans, but it quite heavy and no one has taken the time to straighten it up.  I have been looking for a small birdbath for the poor birds that is esthetically more pleasing than my ratty Tupperware bowl I've been using for the past few years!  (I won't bother with a picture of that one!)

I was thrilled to find this sweet blue one, although I thought it would fill up the old birdbath more completely. Kailyn had to gather a few rocks in order to balance the sweet new birdbath.

We headed further north for Woodland, and opening day at Hulda Klager's Lilac Gardens.  We forgot to take pictures while we were there, but here is a photo of the lilac I was searching for to replace one Jess and I bought that died a couple years ago.  It's called "Sensation" and is a hybrid. 

This is what it is supposed to look like . . .

  

This is the one I purchased . . . hopefully, I'll catch it when it's fully bloomed. Right now, it's about four feet tall, the same height as the lilac tree in the back yard was, when I purchased it about 20 years ago.  We also bought a couple of "babies" in 4" pots.  Those I'll probably keep in pots for a few years, just in case we decide to move, so I can take them with me! (I actually kept the one in the backyard in a ten gallon pot for several years before planting it.  I knew where I wanted it, but needed to wait for the $$ to build our addition and the deck first!)

Tooling on down the road, we arrive at the Tulip Festival. 

Gorgeous tulips as far as the eye could see . . .

And, especially gorgeous close up, with Kailyn in the midst!

Kailyn took lots of photos, 

and we will be ordering many bulbs to plant this fall!

Oh, but back to incentive . . .

Today, my incentive is not too exciting.  I have misplaced my hearing aid remote, and I can't seem to manage to figure out how to change the volume, only the program, with the buttons on the aids.  It's been very frustrating at work, to the point where I didn't wear them all week.  The kids are too loud when I have them on!!  I could just call the place I got them, but I'm pretty stubborn, and I know that remote has to be SOMEWHERE in this house!  (I've already searched the car, which is where I found it last time I lost it!)

My other motivation is to find my camera bag, with my extra battery pack.  It too has disappeared.  My current battery is on the charger, and I can't take any photos until either it's charged, or I find the  bag!  Sheesh!  I put my camera in my purse without the bag last weekend (less bulk) and I don't remember where I put the darn bag!! It should be in the car, but it isn't as I already searched it for the remote and didn't come across the bag.  Sigh.

The problem I'm finding as I age (not so gracefully) is that I will do something so random, (not to mention illogical) and not remember what I did, or where I was when I did it.  I don't fret (yet) that I am fully involved in dementia, as I still know my name, the year and who is president (the test they gave my mom when her alzheimer's was discovered).  I think I am just enmeshed in a case of sensory and data overload.  There is simply too much stuff in my brain rolodex and it takes forever to run through it! (And, I forget what I'm looking for enroute!)

(I really am still on the topic of incentive, in case you're wondering, dear readers!)

The sun is shining right now, and it takes every ounce of my being to force myself to stay inside and find my lost objects.  The house needs a good cleaning as well, since I didn't do a lick last weekend when Kailyn was home.  There is laundry to finish, dishes to put away, and dratted dog hair to vacuum.  

I'm not certain how long my incentive to move will last, but it's time to take advantage of the flickering of "want to" and publish for now.

BTW ~ my upper GI came out well, no news about the biopsies, which is a good sign.  My doctor said things looked good, and that next time I get the two for one special, and upper GI and a colonoscopy!  Wow!  I can hardly wait for that day to come!

We brought two bouquets of tulips home with us last Saturday . . . they don't look like this anymore, but my lilacs are still lovely, and there is more to be had.