this is a test

OK, I haven't blogged more lately because I couldn't upload pictures. Without pictures the words look so gray -but here it is working from a renatal unit at a ski place. That means the son who always knows more than I do about all things technical was right when he said it was our router. I hate that.
Also it means I am at a ski place. That is because the eldest is doing this handicapped skiing program and this weekend is there "race". Everybody cheer. And then everybody gets an award. And some osrt of bakery items are donated -maybe there were sandwiches too last year. I only remembertrying to smile and look enthusiastic and that something struck me as particularly pathetic about the whole thing and right now I can't even remember what. The thing is the person this centered around for us loved the free food, loves the skiing (even if it is siting down and tethered to your guide) so here we are again. I'm more particular in my love of free food, I don't like sliding down slopes, and I can't take anymore tears so I'm sitting in the rental unit trying out their "free wi-fi".
And where you may ask is the grandma? She is with the other daughter visiting her own home for the weekend. Her recovery from the pneumonia has been amazing. She is still puffing a bit but other than finishing the antibioitic and a diuretic she is simply back to where she was 2 weeks ago. No younger but only the expected 2 weeks older. I feel guilty for not bringing her with us but I would feel guilty no matter what.
And how you may ask (if you are a masochist) did I recover from the Mexican restaurant break-down? I followed it up with several more (naturally they all had understandable triggers and I always run out to my car or van to cry hysterically so they were really very grown-up break-downs) and then I followed that up with getting my HRT renewed and my blood pressure meds up. Also some ambien (well, the generic form).

oxygen is good

The picture [imagine a picture of pipes and pumbing parts -because I can't get it to upload] goes with this blog because it is all about my mother and looking for the most recent picture I could only find this. This is the kind of picture my husband takes for his own inscrutable reasons. It represents my mother because at moments it seems like her life has come down to broken plumbing. I guess I don't have any very recent grandma photos because, well, she's not real photogenic these days. A few less inches, a few less teeth, the bad eye. Old age isn't pretty. I told her two mights ago I was afraid when I went to bed she might not still "be there" in the morning. She said (honestly), "Oh honey, I'll still be here in the morning. I just may not be moving." Nice mom.
Still I asked a nurse type friend to come and have a listen to the lungs. Not so good. The technical term was "Rice Crispies". Still not so bad so I waited overnight -she was still moving next day but it had been a bad night plumbing attachment wise. Thank God for head colds. Fortunately it was my neighbor's turn to drive the kids into school so my other half took over lunch making , book bag packing duties and I did damage control... and then I took my mom in pursuit of medical care.
Her oxygen seemed not so bad at the urgent care place so they left us to wait our turn. Which gave it time to drop into the straight-to the-ER-after-2hours-here-watching-bad-cooking-shows range. At the ER, other than the receptionist asking my mom a question while her mouth was still full from the breakfast bar we'd shared on the way and then when my mom merely nodded saying, "Oh how cute, she's chewing away on her gum," in what I assume was her (the receptionist's) special voice for talking to imbeciles, other than that everyone was very nice and very impressed that an almost 94 year old could look so good and be so ... not an imbecile when it turned out both lungs were pretty full of fluid.
So it was a day almost as long as that sentence and perfectly tooped off by the old people in the booth behind us at the Mexican restaurant we took our exhausted 6 year old and ravenous 27 year old (with the crutches in case you were needing more pitifulness here) for a late dinner asking the waiter (the old people did, back from the beginning of this sentence) to ask us to ask the 6 year old to stop swinging his feet. OK, they said "kicking" but in fact he really was just swinging his feet but the booth had a board across the bottom so they did hit it. I ran out of the restaurant and cried in the van. For the last 4 days my mom has cried at everything. I thought it was moodiness. Or pain. Turns out it was having to fight so hard to breath. She stopped crying when they put the oxygen on. I'm going toget some. Or maybe just shorten my sentences and take breath everynow and then.

The New Year's covered

...at least with confetti.

It's the 3rd but really it's like the first day of the New Year since work and school started today. So, my better half said a quick prayer with me as he went out the door. As far as I can recall here are his exact words, "Lord we don't want to keep doing more and more, we want to know you better and better. Help us to be grateful for all the blessings we have and to enjoy them... and please help my wife to wake up." Amen and amen. And you too.

...also, I haven't vacuumed yet.

the magic kingdom part III

The theme for today's blog is handicapped access (in a theme park or a theme resort).
I explained to the travel agent that access was very much an issue for us. I was willing to pay (with money if need be for gosh sakes) for acessibility but by acessibility I meant distance (as opposed to wheelchair friendly). No problem. Everything at The Kingdom is accessible and they'd request a room near an elevator. For all I know the original room we were booked into at Coronado Springs may have been right next to the elevator. It was also on the other side of a lake. You could conveniently catch a bus to get back to the lobby. Even the first girl at the check in desk looked at our group and realized this was not a good idea. The next room was in building 5 and "near" a bus stop. Here we are on our way. About half way there I asked my son, "Will this work?" "Sure." says he. "Several times a day?" says I. "Not really," his honest reply. So back I go to the lobby (after a detour to find the bus stop and confirm that our "near" and a perky young woman's "near" were not so, well... near). The final room was what at this point did indeed seem like a short walk and was, by our new standards, "near" a bus stop -and on the first floor so we didn't have to walk down any halls. What a relief (sarcasm).
At the end of the day, on our way back to the room after a traitorous trip to Sea World, I joked with some random employee about the trek back to the room and they suggested one of the complimentary wheelchairs the resort had. A wheelchair we could take with us into the parks and use all week and not have to rent another (as we just had at Sea World). Now I fully understand why this idea didn't occur to us. For one thing we has no idea they had wheelchairs at the resort, for rent or otherwise. For the another thing, none of the nice people at the front desk when I was this side of tears (and keep in mind you don't actually know which side this is) trying to figure out how we would manage mentioned it. Do you suppose it's part of the strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy enforced at the parks? Ah, you don't know about the policy. And how could you since they won't ask or tell? So I will in my next blog. (If the suspense keeps you up at night don't say I didn't warn you)

the magic kingdom part II

Next time we go through airport security I'm gonna make him wear this hat (which obviously was a must-have-purchase). That way it will all make more sense.

First some scene setting. Me and 2 big kids and one not so big are trying to make a 7am flight. Given the airlines charging for checked bags we of course each had the maximum allowable carry ons. But one of us is walking with crutches and one of us is 6 years old. That leaves 2 of us with our hands very full. Well, that could be any 2 adults traveling with kids. Just like anyone else... until we get to security where being special kicks in. You see if you can't walk through the metal detector unassisted you have to be frisked. I'm thinking they don't frisk infants but I'm not sure. I don't know what's happened to those wands they used to use but apparently that is just not good enough for all the physically disabled population. I don't want to sound prejudiced so let me assure you that I believe the disabled are as big a national security threat as anyone else naturally. Then the TSA throws in a complimentary hand wipe to check for explosives residue. I was informed it would also pick up gunpowder so target practice with some men from church* might be fun before traveling next time.

On the way home we tried the wheelchair option since airports are almost as big as theme parks (and with the same lines!). It did get us a shorter line (the airline guy pushed the chair so no sympathy for losing another luggage carrier) but by the time they're done with the frisking and the swabbing and the scanning the crutches and figuring out where to put the wheelchair it didn't really feel all that special.

The good thing was that when I asked the TSA guy if there was anyway for someone like my son to avoid the personal touch every time they flew and he said no and then added, "We are doing it for your safety" I didn't take one of those crutches and... Let's not even think about it (and if the TSA is reading this - only kidding guys!) . (But if the TSA is reading this next time just say, "yeah it's stupid ma'm, but it's my job." and then we could still be friends).

Boarding the plane was not so bad since I chose seats as far forward as possible and this airline let us choose seats. Not like United who put us on the exit row a few years ago even though they knew we had a toddler and someone using a wheelchair. Then they boarded us last so after getting the crutches past everyone (and let's not forget the carseat) , they had to rearrange those same everyones since 2 of our party** couldn't legally sit where they put us. Finally there's the wear to put the crutches on the plane routine. Last in, first out -except we never are first out but it's a nice theory and we didn't actually hit anyone (on purpose) when the crutches came out this time.

This is why we drive alot.

*It seems to be what they do to bond. Don't ask me.

**I'm using the term "party" euphemistically of course.

the magic kingdom Part 1

I want to share here my most recent experience traveling with the otherly abled but first this word on the one I shared it with already -who unlike any possible readers here couldn't just say that's enough and navigate away.

OK, so this is not the best picture of these 3 of my 4. The oldest isn't really demented -he just likes to look that way for pictures and the yougest isn't really a fighter, -but he's just as camera friendly as the brother. On the other hand it does give you an idea of what the smiling (sweetly) one had to contend with on her "vacation". It started with my giving her the window seat on the plane only to find I'd picked the one row with NO WINDOW, and ended on the return flight when we got upgraded to business (they "needed our seats" according to the inscrutable airline reasoning -we were happy to oblige) and while getting our drinks on the runway unlike the peons in the back the stewardess poured my Coke slowly but steadily down my girl's arm. She was leaning over her to help the little one (his sister gave him the window seat) and didn't realize until I said "Excuse me" a 3rd time. My girl was worried about making the stewardess more embarassed so she didn't even mention the puddle on her seat as well.

In the parks she pushed the wheel chair or wrangled the 6 year old. She played tag with me at all the rest rooms since neither the little one nor the visually impaired one could be left to wander out alone. So if we needed a "rest" we had to tag team so as one of us could still be waiting outside the men's room. We waited outside men's rooms alot. (Out of context that sentence would sound kinda bad don't you think?)

If there was a ramp she'd take the wheelchair. If there was a scary ride she'd take the 6 year old. If there was any activity or ride where he (that 6 year old) had a choice of companions he chose her. She had to not win on the games to let him win (at least that's what he said). She wanted to spend at least some time at the pool relaxing but her mom got all I-spent-a-fortune-on-tickets-lets-get-every-dollars*-worth and we never made it back in time to swim. (And just between us she'd have had her hands full at the pool with mom napping.)

The thing is she's just the sister. I get sympathy. The occupant of the wheelchair gets sympathy. But siblings -not so much. The amazing thing about her is it never seems to occur to her she should get any. She doesn't seem to know it's not just her brother who's special**. If you're reading this my only girl... I'm flummoxed, I have no words for this that won't sound all over-the-top-mom-gushing-about-kid... but there'd have been no magic without you.

*I was going to say pennies' but I don't think there were any pennies in Disney World

**Which reminds me this is the same girl who at 10, after asking what "handicapped" meant asked me the following week, "Tell me again, which brother is handicapped?"

time fillers

With the baby in first grade, and Grandma with her eldest not her baby (that would be me), no class to teach and my eldest without any on going medical crisis I figured I would get so much done this fall. I made lists. I made plans. I wandered from room to room looking for my glasses so I could pick them up and put them down in the next room. I played spider solitaire (but I am really good at it). I read too much non-news because it was there and then I'd have to hit the Wikipedia link because I didn't actually know who or what they were talking about. I am now pretty well caught up on Lindsay and Ashton , although I still have trouble with the whole rapper scene and keeping the names straight.

And it all leaves me vaguely depressed because I still don't get why Sideways was seen as anything other than a boring film about repulsive people. Or why comedians whose jokes are all just excuses to say (as many times as possible) what their mothers and their first grade teachers told them not to say are considered "edgy". Or for that matter why "edgy" is a good thing. Or why college football matters ot what it has to do with college. It's like I'm an alien. Or maybe everybody is just filling time. Waiting for the sun to blind them just a little and remind them what time is meant to be.

I had to force this one, pictured, to get off the computer and into the kayak. I made the "baby" go too and as that 6 year old said when he got out (really), "Mom, you have to make me do it. Don't give me a choice 'cause I think I won't like it but after I do it I do like it." Me too honey.