My painting - Week 2 & 3

Here is my picture and some progress.

Week 3

Week 2

I'm loving my painting class.  I'm getting past the point of just getting the paint on the canvas and starting to understand how to make some pictures.

I've gotten the trees together (right side of the painting) and I'm pretty happy with those evergreens.

The boat and the house are my two favorite parts of the picture, I'll be working on those last.  I have to get the landscape down first.

That crazy lady in the class wanted to 'help' me with my water again...LEAVE ME ALONE.  I actually said 'NO NO NO NO...it's okay...' and I think she got it.

You see see two dobs of white next to the left side water in Week 2's picture...that is what I was 'erasing' that she messed up.

I clearly don't have the water down yet, but I'm getting there.

The house looks completely off, as does the mountains in the back, but those still need to be worked on.

It's fun and I'm enjoying it; that's what matters.

Second guessing myself

I had an absolutely fantastic weekend.

Friday night, we had a cookout with my family which ended up with a round of freeze dance with the adults and kids.

Saturday was a bridal shower for my brother and soon to be sister-in-law.  Then Wonderful Husband took the kids to a family party on his side while I sat at home outdoors and read a book for 2 hours, before going to a jewelry party at a friend's house on my block.

Sunday we spent the morning at Gaelic Park for a mass, breakfast, and carnival of sorts for 'special persons.'  Then relaxed indoors to let the kids watch the movie and play with the toys the eldest brought home, before we had dinner and topped the weekend off with a trip to the ice cream parlor with my dad.

On Saturday night I was talking with another special needs mom at the party.  She was telling me how she put her daughter in mainstreamed pre-school classes, and pushed for it because the school wanted her in a self-contained room just because of her diagnosis.  It had me thinking...why am I not pushing for that?  We haven't officially tried him in the mainstream class outside of art, gym, and music.  I asked for it 2 years ago, but they kept deterring me away from the big groups where the eldest gets overwhelmed.

Geesh - it's so hard.  He needs adult direction to stay on task and breakdown the task at hand, but then he gets distracted.  In the self-contained class, there is a lot of distraction from the kids all around him, so is that making him unsuccessful?  So I was thinking...maybe the self-contained class isn't the right place.

When I got home and talked with Wonderful Husband about my new 'revelation' or 'revolution' (I suppose)...he reminded me that Dr. Psychologist diagnosed our eldest and did a school assessment, and sure enough, he is in the right place in self-contained classroom (fyi - it's new term for special ed).  BUT...this was before we had him on these new attention medications.

Our eldest isn't a disruption to other kids.  He follows rules.  He is mainstreamed this summer at daycare.  He just needs reminders because when things get difficult, he doesn't know how to organize the tasks into smaller ones to get going.

I can't figure it out if this is something that I should start to push for.  Would it make sense to put him in a mainstreamed class for one subject?  Would he be successful?  Would it make him feel better or worse about himself?  Would he feel like he's being punished if he's not in the classroom with the only friends he knows?  Does keeping him in a special ed setting set him up for special ed his whole life, when maybe he can be mainstreamed, but only with the right assistance?

The thing is...I don't feel we are out of place at the 'special persons' outings.  And my eldest had so much fun.  With a disability, there is a huge range of difficulties that people face...whether it be walking, talking, thinking, eating.  Some disabilities are obvious, some aren't...but that is what makes each person special.  It is not one general thing, the challenge they work through every day is special only to them.  Even though we don't yet have a diagnosis, and one special person's adult niece asked me what his diagnosis was because he seemed so 'normal', we fit in there and my eldest can be successful and he feels great about himself...I can tell.

Why does grammar school always feel like this is the be all, end all?  It's only 8 years of your life.  You have a lot more to go after school and many opportunities to change and reinvent yourself after the school years.  Grammar school, and even high school, don't define you.  But success, self-confidence, feeling like you fit in somewhere sticks around forever.  I'm right, yes?

I need to stop second guessing myself!  I always say that I consciously do not try to keep up with the Jones, but why am I doing it now with my kid?

"She touched your painting? Oh no, she di'n't!"

Mondays are usually dreadful, except Monday is my oil painting class.  I'm starting to get the hang of it, mixing colors, getting the right texture, getting paint actually on the canvas.  So I am really looking forward to the two hour class every Monday.

This week I started to make a lot of progress, there is paint on 100% of my canvas and it is starting to look less cartoonish and more like an actual rendition of my picture.

The class is made up of a few funny characters (myself included, I suppose).  5 senior citizens, 3 people in their 40s, 1 young adult, and myself.  There is this one 40ish woman...if I say only what I've learned from the first class you can 'paint' a picture of what she would be like yourself...she is single, lives with a few cats she adores, and is starting this business painting people's pets.  Right now, she is painting a deceased black lab...and keeps saying things like 'It's a 'she' - we have to give her respect...remember, she just recently passed.' whenever anyone accidentally says something like 'wow - he is looking good.'  Okay - you can catch my drift.

So this week, she mentioned how she is going back to school to major in art.  I replied, though I probably shouldn't have...wow - you must really like this, since you are in art classes for fun on top of school.  But anyway...

At the very end of the class, when I was finally getting my groove on, I was painting my water reflection using downward strokes.  I think this woman wanted to be like the art teacher, so she corrected me saying that I should always paint water left to right, so I can blend it for a reflection...like this...

Yes, she took my brush & made a huge stroke...it actually messed up my water.  I was pissed, but I tried not to show it since most of the class are repeat participants and I'm brand new.  So I tried to get it off in the last 5 minutes of the class.

I'm looking forward to Monday's class, but not looking forward to having the weekend disappear.  It's taking all my willpower to not go steal my painting from the classroom to work on it a bit at home.  Gosh...at home, I have plenty of other things to do.

But here is the picture of what I am painting.  If I get around to it on Monday, do you want to see how it progresses each week?

Ireland - picture taken by yours truly - c. 1998

Nose longer a prisoner

Having a stupid splint on your nose for a week, makes the week really, really, really long.  It's uncomfortable and it looks stupid.  Everyone wonders what the heck happened to you.  But, unlike when I was walking around in my sister's '21st birthday shirt' where I got more stares than I ever wanted...I think people try not to gawk when you have an obvious injury (thank goodness)!

Dr. Cutie...I mean, Dr. Curtis :) took off my nose splint yesterday - he couldn't get it off fast enough.  I felt like myself again.  Tonight...back to going to the pool.  We've been avoiding it this past week, even with the heat wave, because I couldn't get it wet.

See how stupid I looked?  But now my nose is fixed...don't laugh how 'goregous' I look...I'm still living up to my resolution in exercising.  I ran again today...or, ran, then walked, then ran, then walked, then ran, then walked...but it was exercising.  And now I'm back at my desk at work, er, home...but I am working.

A straight snout

Well, my surgery is done & yesterday I sat around and did nothing while I recovered for a day.  I watched a lot of TV, painted my nails, put together wedding shower favors, and tried to avoid the mirror.

If I look in the mirror, I have a nice beige splint on my nose, but for the first time my nose does not hurt since my accident.  5 days and counting until I get it off.  That is, hopefully...I am assuming here that in my 1 week visit, cute ENT/Plastic Surgeon doctor will remove it.

So, now that this is done, time to focus on the other things...have I told you how it always seems my timing is perfect?  Again...I won't DARE take credit for anything with luck or timing...it's all luck & really a higher being.

But after playing phone tag...okay, not tag, just me calling ever week, Dr. Wonderful Dentist is supposed to be calling me back finally tonight.  I spoke with his personal secretary yesterday and she called this morning to make sure I'd be home for his call later this evening.  Looks like now that my nose is fixed, maybe we can figure out why the eldest's teeth are falling out.

On to this weekend...

There is one thing I'm really bummed about regarding the broken nose, but I'm trying really hard not to dwell on it.   Because it's broken, I will not be able to run the Warrior Dash this weekend.  This is the mud/obstacle/5K race I did on a whim in Michigan last year that propelled me into being brave and trying new things.  Since I've picked up running this summer, I was really gearing up to see how much better I performed this year compared to last.

I'm still going to go, but being brave by walking around in public with my nose splint...and cheer on the teammates who are going to be all muddy.  Last year, my cousin sat on the sidelines while I impersonated her in the race.  This year I'll be sitting on the bench, while another friend is impersonating me.  Hopefully this does not become a tradition for our, what hopefully is becoming, annual race.

The repair

I'm all scheduled to have my nose repaired tomorrow.  I surely did break it.  I'm laughing more about the break than not, just because it is the stupidest thing ever.  Laughter does get me through the doom.  I jinxed myself in thinking that this would FINALLY be the year that I didn't have anything medical going on with me.  After all those years of surgeries and emergencies, I was confident there wasn't much more in my body that I could have requiring attention or on the brink of rupture.  I was wrong...again.  Some people were unconvinced I actually broke it when they heard me over the phone, but as soon as they saw me...their response was 'oh yeaaaa....{slow inhale}....you broke it.'

Funny - my twin son tells me I'm wrong all the time.  It's quite humorous...I'm wrong when I call a maze instead of a moze, I'm wrong because I said I'd find a toy that I couldn't - he tells me often I'm wrong at everything.  Instead of making me upset or mad, I smile and tell him 'ok' - after all, it was many years in my life I was convinced my parents were always wrong.  Now I know they are pretty much always right.

So, tomorrow afternoon, this really cute plastic surgeon who I met yesterday will put the bones back in place and repair the septum (that wall that is in the middle of the nose).  He reminded me of Mark Sloan from Grey's Anatomy.  Too bad he'll see me in all my bloody, snotty glory tomorrow.  I don't feel bad about wearing a splint on my face either - I'm married to a wonderful man who will still love me...and friends who will still talk with me while I'm all bandaged.

I did have to do some bargaining with the surgery schedule.  I'll need to wear a splint on my nose for a week, and they wanted to schedule it for Monday.  I got teary and told them how I'm hosting a bridal shower for my sister-in-law and I would love to have the bandage off by then.  Phew - he worked me in.  Now I'll have the weekend to recover.

The only bummer is that I was all signed up for the Warrior Dash this weekend.  Last year I took the place of my cousin who hurt herself and couldn't participate.  I guess it's my turn to sit by the tree with a sun hat and wait for the muddy group to return from the challenge.  I got two new books to entertain me, the last of the Hunger Games and a Sweet Valley High, 10 years after high school book (okay, okay, okay...don't give me a hard time...it was in the clearance section...probably there for a reason).

80 degrees to my left

If I look out the front door, 80 degrees to my left is that annoying old man, who I gave the bird to as I was being carried into the ambulance.  I'm glad I haven't seen him since Tuesday's incident.

If I look out my bedroom window, 80 degrees to my left is my neighbor's kitchen window...where she was so kind to me yesterday in checking in on me and then delivering dinner.  I'm really lucky to have some great people all around me, literally.

If I look in the mirror, 80 degrees to my left is where my nose is pointing.  This sucks...I'm teetering today between laughing and crying, like a hormonal new mom without enough sleep and a crying baby.  I'm trying to not have a pity party, as I know what types of presents Karma delivers to me when I have those parties...so I'm going to try to avoid it.  I think avoiding it is by trying to take some control of the chaos that is running me out of control right now.

I have an appointment with my general physician this afternoon, who I really like.  I believe he cares for me very well.  After a crummy time Tuesday night, at the super busy ER at the hospital closest to me, which takes many of the critical cases around Chicago...I am hoping that my doctor will make sure I have the right treatment, in case they missed something on Tuesday (I wouldn't be surprised if they did).

I just got a call for the plastic surgeon also, seeing him tomorrow.

Okay - those are 2 things in my control that I can start to move forward on with regarding to myself.

The other part is what is driving me down on the teeter-tauter and periodically crying is that I'm just scared about balancing work with all this chaos.  I have a new manager, who I'm not yet sure will be understanding of my life demands...now with this additional stuff I need to 'face' every day (pun intended...ha!).

So, to take control over work, I called my director to ask if she would support me in applying for FMLA to take time off as needed for my eldest.  Wonderful Husband has this safeguard in place and I think gave him comfort and security...I think I need that comfort as well.  I am blowing through my PTO and sick time for myself right now, so I'm just afraid when I need to take time off for my eldest, I won't have it available.  The sucky part is that I cried on the phone to her...but maybe that helped to see I'm handling my work load, but really struggling with the outside stuff?  Oh - who knows...and I guess I shouldn't care.

Okay - off to 'face' the rest of my day...

Karma from my pity party yesterday

I was attending a big personal pity party yesterday...there wasn't much I could do about getting myself out of it either.  Thanks for listening to it - I needed to get it out there & off my chest in a bad way.  Maybe I was having the big pity party because I was getting sick.

I did mention yesterday things could get worse...oh boy, things could always get worse.  I think reminding myself of this is the fuel to keep me going day to day.  Yesterday, starting in the afternoon, things went downhill and by 7:00 pm things were worse...way worse.  There is good news, however...I'm over the pity party (for now...until Dr. Wonderful Dentist calls & we have to go back to readdress the eldest's tooth thing).  But the good news is that by 11:00 pm I was back to making comedic remarks about our worsened situation with Wonderful Husband and amidst blood, vomit, IVs, and a packed ER, we were laughing at our situation.

First off...Wonderful Husband told me I'm a sick topper, much like a story topper.  This is one of the snarky, funny comments that he and I share when we are in a really sucky situation...and man, humor does get us far!  My boys have been on & off sick with a stomach bug for a week...and Wonderful Husband was home ill the past day and a half.  Even daycare said they have had a few people out ill.  Well...I must have caught it, but I did manage to top them all.

With the stomach bug, I got so dehydrated so fast that I fainted in the bathroom.  The floor won...even thought I tried convincing Wonderful Husband last night that I kicked the floor's ass...it was pretty clear who was the winner.  Not me.  This conversation helped pass some time in the ER and get some more laughs in there.

How it came about?  All I remember is I was on the lou, felt faint and was going to lay down on the cool bathroom tile to help feel better.  Ohhhh, that ground in the bathroom felt so nice and cold...I'm feeling a lot better, I thought.  Then I realized...I don't remember crawling down to the floor.  Geesh...I'm really weak, I can't really move.  Wait...what is wet around my mouth, drool?  How long have I been laying here...did I fall asleep?  Oh my God...it's not drool...it's a huge pool of blood, all around my head and face that I'm laying in.

Wonderful Husband is a first responder.  He always stays calm in emergencies, but when I was laying there and screaming for him...I knew it wasn't good when there was pure panic in his voice when he came in.  He called 911.  Good thing too, there was no way I was going to be able to get in the car.

So, the paramedics and fire department arrived, I fainted another two times and looked like a corpse with blood all over her face.  My oh my, I know how to do it up good!  Sick topper is right.  We knew a lot of the EMTs...that was good and all, until I started vomiting.  Blood and fainting isn't that embarrassing...that was the emergency we needed them for.  But it is embarrassing when you vomit into your lap when they strapped me onto the gurney.  Thank goodness I had a bucket close by was able to contain the rest that continued as they wheeled me out of my house.

Outside, OF COURSE, my nosy old neighbor was out watching. The EMTs told him the show was over...but he continued to stare.  I waved him off, but he didn't move.  Then I gave him the middle finger.  Ha!  Okay Fabian...you may have caught on I don't like you, but now you know without doubt.  Nosy neighbor he is...even after I flipped him the bird, he didn't turn and walk inside, he just took a few steps back to be somewhat concealed behind a fur tree, but still able to watch.  I started laughing with the EMTs how I gave him the finger...maybe he didn't really deserve it...but it made me feel confident he won't corner us outside and start asking us about it when he sees us next.

So...we are pretty sure I broke my nose.  They were confident I didn't hurt my brain, or was having a heart attack.  After a few hours, lots of IVs, lots of ice chips, I was finally feeling better.  The ER was so packed they had me in the prisoner detainee room...video monitor, wall that locks to keep all the ER supplies safe, a special door and windows with blinds that close from the outside.  This was fine, after all, I was with a police officer (ha!).  But then an actual arrestee came in with the CPD...so finally, it was time to hurry me out of there and get me home.  Thank goodness!

I feel a million times better today, but I haven't yet looked in the mirror.  My face should be a nice, glorious site...at least when I'm at the pool we joined, people will notice my face more than my annoying legs covered with psoriasis and cellulite (ha!).  I'm just happy the tooth fairy didn't come for me last night...that would have really, really broken my heart.

The pity party is over...Karma reminded me things aren't that bad...and could always be worse.  My, she showed me things could be worse for sure!  My happy face is back on, just with a little more detail.

The toothfairy's arrival makes my heart break

For the first time, I saw a tooth knocked out.  Surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of drama around it, I think because my eldest, who is 6, was finally ready to loose THAT tooth, being pushed out by his upcoming adult teeth.

I was in the kitchen, my eldest was in the living room.  I heard a big bang and when I came in the room I saw him just standing there in shock and crying.  His eyes kept looking at a little white pebble on the ground amidst the strewn toys all over.  OH!  Poor kid...did you honestly just fall on your face & knock out the one last front tooth that you had?  Yes, he did.

Wonderful husband is sick.  He came home from work and was sleeping when this all happened.  Even with feeling under the weather, he swiftly came to our rescue with ice and a washcloth.  I could tell his heart was broken too.  He even made a comment with a sad look on his face that if he wasn't sick, this wouldn't have happened.  Yes, it still would have, I reassured him, and I believe it.

After a Popsicle and sitting on my lap in front of Little Einsteins, my eldest was fine.  Listening to classical music, watching a nice easy show, he seemed absolutely recovered.  He complained a bit about it being sore, so Tylenol that I provided to him should have helped.  He actually slept in for a whole 12 hours of rest...obviously needed.  I tried to focus only on the tooth fairy, who was now coming tonight to drop off 5 gold dollar coins in exchange for his tooth.

I held up really well during the ordeal, but after I put the kids to bed, finished the chores for the night...I lost it.  I was at the grocery store and while I was putting the empty cart away, finally out of any public eyes, I started crying and just couldn't stop.  Tears were just streaming down my face the entire drive home and while I hung out alone in the driveway.  I needed to sit there just to let myself recognize my feelings in that moment and acknowledge how truly terrible I feel.

I know we have the attention of a good dentist (who I'm still waiting to hear from after that annual conference) but it is just plain heart wrenching to see my wonderful son have to carry so many burdens.  He has such a cute smile, how in the world can he possibly be missing 8 of his primary teeth, not yet to be replaced by those big adult ones?  How is it remotely possible that this will help his esteem, ability to make friends, ability to eat to put on the much needed weight & height, ability to articulate?  All that and more is going through my head and my chest only feels heavy with sadness and fear.

I knew the teeth were going to fall out, Dr. Wonderful told us so...but it isn't making it any easier when it happens.  This is almost what it felt like when he curiously lost his first on vacation in Michigan at only 20 months...though the fear that I have wasn't there like it is now.  I'm afraid about what is in store for the future...what kind of doctors, tests, and procedures is Dr. Wonderful going to put him in front of and through to help 'fix' this dental problem.

Like the IEP was all consuming in my brain and conversations, all it is replaced with is fear and sadness. Though I do recognize this could be worse.  Things could always be worse.  But I have a huge fear that things will be worse, and I think that is why I'm so heartbroken about this all...I just don't know what is in store for him, and the shockers seem to just keep coming.

It sucks to keep writing about all this downer materials and updates.  I do have fun and I do celebrate things and I do talk about other things...but I need this blog to let loose with what I need to talk about, and can't possibly let this downer of a topic be the only conversation topic I have with people.  So, to spare all of you who listen to me...I have to write about it.

I really wish I could find something funny to write about instead...like finding candy in the car as a bonus, or falling down the stairs (which I did Sunday...face first), or talking about the 5K I successfully ran this weekend.  But I'm sorry, my fingers and my heart just won't let me.  I'll be joyous in person...because like a woman I love once said to me...if I talk about it, I'll cry.  If I write about it, I can think it through, acknowledge it, and then move on without the tears (for as many minutes at a time as I possibly can).

Days like this I hate that I work

I've been spoiled this year, reporting to a great manager and being able to work primarily from home.  This has given both me and my kids a huge break of the morning rush and put me in balance with my work and life commitments.

But days like this pulls at my heartstrings of mom-guilt about carrying a full time job with young kids at home.

I had a large meeting downtown, where I was presenting at my department level meeting in a telepresence for 80 people in 8 cities around the world.  It was a really big deal because I'm the only non-manager ever asked to present at the director's meeting on a project I've implemented.  But to attend this meeting, my family, including my parents, had to make a lot of compromises for me...

> The kids had to wake up at 5:30am instead of 7:15 am
> Everyone had to be out the door by 6:00 instead of a the nice range of 7:50 - 8:15
> My parents had to take my eldest for breakfast today then bring him to school.  My mom already committed to my sister with the newborn to help put her classroom away for the summer...so this was an extra task, which they gladly helped with
> Husband had to make sure I was up and also assisted with the kids in the morning.  He helped by actually being the one to dress and brush their teeth while I was busy putting on my makeup
> My mom treated us to picking up the eldest at our doorstep at 6:00, saving me some time to not have to drop him off

So...I did it...I made the 6:47am train, so I'd be downtown in time for the big telepresence.  The meeting went well, I presented without flaw (even though the slideshow stopped right before I started talking...luckily, I printed out a hard copy), and got some good exposure across our team.

But here were the concessions:
> Darling Daughter, after getting changed, teeth brushed, and coat on, went back to her room and sat on her bed.  When I peaked in to give her the 2 minute warning to leave time, she started crying...when I asked what was wrong...she looked at me and said "I'm just still so tired."

> Enjoyable Eldest got sick 4xs in my dad's car outside of school before he even entered.  My poor dad stayed home with him all morning and didn't go to work.  Then my mom, coming home from her work at school, will stay with him until I can get home from the commuter train.  My wonderful father, knowing about my big presentation didn't even let me know until 10:46, which I didn't get until lunch...what a generous sacrifice he made for me.

My heart just breaks...are these accolades at work, almost a pretend show of who I used to be before kids, really worth it?

I know it's just working-mother-guilt that is tugging at my heart since my dad said it was no problem and they have it covered.  But days like this, I really hate that I have this double-life of mom and career woman.

What would I do without my parents?  How in the world do other women who are single moms do it?