Knock Knock

So tomorrow is my birthday, which I would have completely overlooked if it weren't for my four year old who keeps inviting people to the "huge party" that is supposedly happening. Which it isn't. And it makes me wonder who he is inviting. Lord knows who will be showing up at my house tomorrow as he knows our address. Isn't it strange when you get to a certain point in life and you need someone to remind you of your birthday? I think I will feel saddened when my children start forgetting about their birthdays (if I am still around).

So instead of forgetting about it (which is impossible since apparently I have to plan a huge party) I thought a lot about the last year and what I have learned and what I have dealt with. So here are a few thoughts about my 35th year:

* It can ALWAYS get worse.
* One of the best things about my kids getting older is their ability to tell a knock knock joke that is actually funny. (there are only so many times I can grin and fake a giggle to: knock knock, who's there? banana....over and over and over and...)
* Sometimes getting sick and/or having a condition allows you to conquer fears (like driving into a city you don't know, finding parking and finding the clinics over and over and over and...)
* Living near family is not only wonderful but is a requirement from now on.
* If the above requirement isn't possible, living near military friends is definitely a good second.
* Christmas at home and with family makes for a magical time.
* Somethings aren't as scary when you talk or write about them.
* Exercise is a must. When it is taken away I realize how much I miss it.
* Chocolate is a must. See above.
* Not watching the news makes for a peaceful existence. (what war? my husband is on a business trip)
* There are definite angels in the world (like waitresses who sit with two of your kids while you run to the bathroom with the third kid. trust me, she is an angel)
* Thinking the mantra: "someday I will sleep" over and over while rocking sick children definitely helps.
* After all of these years, I still want a cigarette.
* Sometimes sucky things happen, sometimes great things happen.
* Sometimes you have to make yourself a birthday party so that your kids can have a great day. This is what being a mom is all about.

And so I move on to my 36th year. I will be seeing my husband in the next few months. I will probably be moving in the next few months. I will hopefully make some new friends and keep my old ones close. I might be having brain surgery in the next few months, but overall, I look forward to the next year. Especially the huge party my four year old will be throwing. You are all invited.

Snacks

Like it isn't hard enough to raise three young kids by myself, have a condition that may require brain surgery and every day worry about my spouse out there, somewhere fighting in the sand, now I have Big Brother of the grocery store yelling at me.

I was pushing this huge contraption, the four and three year olds sitting on a bench-like seat and the one year old in the seat of the actual cart (he seemed so far away) and the kids were all whining and crying. The one year old was drooling, crying and trying to get out of the cart so I grabbed a box of snacks from the shelves, opened it and put them in his hand.....ahhhh silence. I could concentrate once more (for a minute or two)...and then it happened. I was in the soda isle (I am now addicted to diet Mountain Dew) and the loudest announcement came over the loud speakers: "For those of you who are opening food and feeding them to your children, this is strictly against policy and must be stopped immediately." OOOOOKAAAAY. What the hell? Big Brother is not only watching me, but yelling at me!

Now you have to understand, this is the Commissary. This is the store where all of us courageous and strong willed women shop while our men are gone. They know we are single parents right now. They know we are at our wits end. They know we don't have a break. And they still manage to yell at us (me) and embarrass us (me) for trying to get peace while shopping at their store.

And to top it off, when I was paying (yes, I was paying Mr. Big Brother with the big mouth) the cash register lady was saying to the other cash register lady, "Man I can't wait 'til five o'clock, I am out of here!" and me being me couldn't let that go. I said, "I wish I could get off of work at five but I don't get off of work. I work twenty-four hours a day." That shut her up.

I think the bagger man saw my frazzled, pissed off aura or something because on the way out to my car, he said "You are doing a fine job Ma'am. You hang in there. You are doing a fine job. Have a good Memorial Day. It's for you too." I felt like hugging him. Instead I stuffed more of MY snacks into the one year old and strapped in the three year old.

Happy Memorial Day to all of the soldiers who fought, all the soldiers who are fighting and all of the wives who do what they can to get through each day...it's for you too.

Ha

So I woke up this morning with an ache. A small ache, but an ache non the less. The thing is: the ache was on the wrong side. The other problem is: I don't know what "normal" pain feels like anymore. I don't know what a head ache feels like anymore because every time a bit of pain hits, I wait for the train to crash through my head. I brace myself whenever a twinge finds itself in one of my teeth. Do people have twinges? Do teeth ache for no reason? I can't remember. How very sad that is I think.

The reason I am so afraid that the little ache is actually the monster under my skin, scraping it's nails against my teeth, is it is on the wrong side. The ache is on my right side. I have been dealing with my left side and that monster. If it is scraping along my right side, then that introduces so many scary conclusions. Conclusions like: there is no help, no cure. So sorry. If the TN is on both the right and the left, then the surgeries they are proposing are dashed away. The surgery option is gone. They will not operate. There is no cure. The monster wins.

So I spent the day trying to calm the right side of my face. And I bought myself a very expensive wallet for my birthday. Take that monster.

Clorox, Downy and Dial Oh my!

Oh the horror. I have been pooped on and vomited on for the last four days. I have been doing laundry every two hours to get said poop and vomit out of several sheets, towels, blankets and stuffed bears. I have cleaned bathtubs, toilets and sinks with bleach and soap. I have rocked children, held children over sinks, Rubbermaid tubs and toilets for hours. Oh the horror. We have got the bug, the virus, the sickness.

And when the bug hits us, it hits hard. And I have never missed my husband more. And I have never cursed out my husband's job more. I can not get the smell out of my nose. I am too tired to change my own sheets. Why bother when someone might come downstairs to tell me "Mommy I don't feel goo--bluuuuugggg" (sound of vomit spewing out of child).

Oh the horror. How do I take care of little ones when I have caught the bug too? We RAN through Kroger today. I was praying that no one would vomit in one of the isles. We have already baptized check out line #8 with pee during potty training. I didn't want to dowse isle 4 with more bodily fluids. Every time the baby pursed his lips and looked up at me, I was ready with my diaper bag held open in front of him. I know I looked crazy.

If anyone looked at what we were buying, they knew to stay far away from us. Gatorade, Pedialyte, Saltines, Ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, etc. I wanted to tell the checkout girl to wash her hands after us. (Do you think they notice what people buy and come to conclusions from the items?) I wanted to wipe the shared pen that everyone uses to sign their credit card slips with a Clorox wipe. (Does it bother anyone else to use a community pen at the pharmacy? I mean, a lot of sick people use that pen. It is one of my pet peeves to use that pen, but I always forget to bring my own. I hope someone invents a germ repellent pen)

I am going to do another load of laundry. The smell of Downy has a new meaning for me now. Blech. My son's teddy bear has never been so clean and so gross at the same time. I pray that no one vomits or poops tonight. Please God. I need sleep with no weird sound emitting from the monitor. I need a night with no visitors in the middle of the night. I need a night to myself.

I have not been alone for more than a ten minute shower for four days. Oh the horror.

Two Weeks

I've been asked by several different people if the pain has come back. And I have been quick to either dart around the answer or to whisper it, "No, BUT it's only been two weeks...so...." I don't mean to sound like Negative Nelly (she is so annoying) but I have been in "remission" for a month at a time and the pain has reared it's ugly head, so I am so scared to get excited. It's only been two weeks. But it has been a wonderful two weeks. (Though every time there is a twitch, I brace myself for the pain)

The other subject I have been neglect in catching everyone up on is hearing from my husband. Yes, he did contact us! He is safe (relatively) and actually got a chance to send some letters to me and the kids. It took him three months, but he did it. I thought it would make the kids excited and thrilled but the three year old completely melted down last night screaming for her Daddy. I guess not hearing from him cushions her from the ache of missing him. I don't know. She fell asleep with tears on her cheeks and the word Daddy repeated over and over in a moan. It breaks my heart and I know it kills my husband to hear about her.

This week I will be meeting with the Neurosurgeon. Since I am in remission (in a whisper) a part of me feels like skipping the meeting (the positive happy, full of faith, little sprite part.) But the realistic part knows I have to set myself up for if (when) the pain does come back. I guess the questions I have for him are the normal questions you ask someone who is about to drill into your skull.

It has not hit me that I may be having this brain surgery. Me! Having brain surgery! So this week I will ask the doc my questions, wrap my three year old in bubble wrap so she doesn't hurt anymore (sigh) and check my mailbox for more mail (that probably won't come.) I keep telling myself that there is only a few more months of being a single parent. But I am not sure that is the hardest part at this point. At this point, it is the apprehension of hearing from my husband, (last night I got a call from a name and number I did not recognize and my heart just skipped a beat and I started shaking...that doesn't happen in the civilian world does it?) and waiting for the pain to return....those are the hardest things.

How does one live while constantly waiting?

Excuses

I was told to call a certain person if I hadn't heard from my husband in several days. And there was a stretch there for a while but I just couldn't pick up the phone. I mean, what would I say? Worse yet, what would they say?

I remember during the last deployment my brother and his wife came to visit. They drove a Taurus or something similar. He had Virginia plates. When they parked in front of my house, both of my neighbors, who were not only friends but were wives of deployed husbands, freaked out. They thought the worst had come. They thought this was it for me and my family, "They" had come. It is the wive's biggest fear: an official car filled with people coming to knock on your door to give you the news that your husband wasn't coming home.

We don't watch the news, we don't read the paper, we listen to the artillery going off in the distance and pretend they are fire works. We try not to think about the wives we have had to visit whose husbands weren't coming back. We keep a list of foods we will make when "They" call on us to offer a hand or two to a family who is grieving.

My kids wait every day to hear from Daddy and I have to make up excuses like: Daddy is so busy helping people, he couldn't call today, maybe tomorrow. I don't think they buy it. The hardest part for me is when the four year old draws pictures of his family and Daddy is no longer in them.

Daddy is just a voice on the other end of a phone that has stopped ringing. But I know he will call when he can and that is what I tell my kids and that is what I believe. Soon enough my heart won't skip a beat when the doorbell rings unexpectantly. (I bet the UPS guys don't think about that when they are knocking on people's doors around here) Soon enough Daddy will be the biggest stick figure on the family portrait. Soon enough the phone will ring.

Coins

Isn't it great when you can buy something and suddenly you feel like a grownup? Today I feel like I took a major step in becoming a full blown adult. I bought a fruit basket tower thingy. (Ok, a few steps backwards now...what is that called exactly?) Anyway, I bought it and put it where I have seen it in other people's kitchen and in magazines -- in the corner of a counter. Ok, so it is a little big for my kitchen, and yes, the three apples that I have placed on it are old and spongy and bruised (note to self -- buy prettier fruit and a lot of them) but I feel very adult-like.

Somehow standing behind it as I answer questions my young ones throw at me during dinner I feel empowered. I am Mommy of the Adult World. I can answer anything without swearing and I can cook meals they will eat without complaining because I have the fruit basket tower thingy. (I need to get a superhero outfit with a picture of that basket thingy on the chest.)

I am a little curious why this makes me feel empowered. I even came up with the Jar of Shame as I stood next to the Tower today. Every time I swear I will put money in the Jar of Shame. "But what will we do with the money mommy?" my kids ask me as I peer through the wires of the Tower. "We will buy treats for children who know not to repeat the horrible words Mommy sometimes says" (when she is far away from her power source the Fruit Tower Thingy)

Now don't get me wrong. I am not a constant swearer. Although I do need to curb it a bit. But come on! Take last night for instance. The one year old broke out in hives after feeding himself-- and slopping the food everywhere in the kitchen--so I took him up to the tub. I was feeling pretty good. The other two are starting to take showers now, so I only had one more back breaking kid that I had to bathe. Two more years of this and I am home free in the bath department. Whoo hooo oooohhhhh shit. He pooped in the tub. And pooped some more on me when I picked him up Nooooooooo. Dammit! And some more on the floor. NOOOOOOO SHIT! (My kids are sooooo damaged from living with me) So, the Jar of Shame earned a bunch of coins from last night.

You see, what I need to do is stand by my Fruit Tower Thingy and decompress. I will not swear, I will not yell. I will be a very calm, loving Mommy. I have a Tower in my kitchen. I can do anything. . My kitchen could be in one of those magazines. I am an adult now.

I just have to buy some fresh fruit. Dammit.

Fairy

It's funny how much I miss my wisdom teeth. My tongue keeps poking around back there, trying to feel the hard and bumpy surface that once took up space. Now it is just a bunch of stringy stitches and gum hanging on. Remember the feeling of a loose tooth? Rocking it with your tongue, feeling the sharp edges digging into your gum, the trickle of blood that oozed out of the gap? And then out of the blue, the tooth releases and you have a gaping, smooth and spongy hole in your mouth.

It has been 25 years since I have felt that. I used to get excited for the tooth fairy. A quarter under the pillow and the long wait for the "grown up" tooth to come in. I don't remember being quite as excited to feel the replacement tooth as I was losing the baby tooth.

This time, I am excited for different reasons. I am filled with hope (false hope?) that this loss of teeth will bring relief on a much higher level. I pray that there was some connection between my wisdom tooth and the Trigeminal Neuralgia. Needless to say, I did not have an attack after the extraction. I did have one going into the surgery. In fact, the Oral Surgeon was hesitant to even go through with it since I was having the attack.

I hate to even bring it up, so consider this a whisper: the attack went away as soon as the tooth was pulled out. Granted, I was completely out of it during and post extraction. But so far, no pain on that side.

Does that mean anything? Could it be? Should I even wish upon a tooth? Is there really a tooth fairy that will take the pain away? Oh I can only hope. I can only pray. I can only play with the stringy things attached to my gums, search for the teeth that no longer exist and wait for a miracle.