Junkie

A new low for me - almost as painful as the day I took the plunge and started this damn blog... I boughta book called "Love Your Handwriting" written by Heidi Swapp, endorsed by Becky Higgins, designed for crafty Marthas who appear to have their shit together. Those who ACTAULLY craft and scrapbook, not just compulsively buy and hoard supplies.
OK - in my defense, I was in Chapters - retail therapy after another long 12 hour shift with my mom- and it was on the baragain table. Only 9.99. So if it doesn't turn out to be a life changing read, at least I'm only out the price of a big box of cereal...

I long to be as put together as "those" girls are. To have unlimited bank accounts (or at least husbands that understand/tolerate their pension for all things new, trendy and hot off the Martha train.) Those women who have limitless time to scrapbook or blog or try new reciepes that can be blogged and scrapbooked next week. Whose houses could be in magazines, who's kids wear matching themed shirts, who always look so eff'n happy!

Me - well, I'm not a housekeeper or a decorator. My house is clean and I like how things look - but something tells me the 1970's couch, old-style TV, and dollarstore toy buckets won't be in any magainzes this year...
I'm lucky if my kids are wearing clean clothes that actually fit them! and well, my ACTUAL happiness is buried under layers of sadness, frustration, confusion, strength and necessity.

So, like a junkie, I sit and wallow in this self pity of not being picture perfect. I take another hit of my drug - Lucky Charms today - Bowl #3. Tastes so good. I hate myself for my weakness. For buying the box. For uncontrollably eating it. I already hate what it's doing to my body, my teeth. my weight watchers committment, BUT it tastes so good! So for now I focus on the sweet sugary crunch of Lucky's special Charms, and prepare to love my handwriting... or at least fake it!

2 weeks

The urge to blog again hit me as I was taking the stairs to Unit 5A while eating a triple chocolate ice cream sandwich: My way of grieving with food and losing weight - both 2 interesting journeys for future posts...

I've been in Regina at the General hospital for what seems like months. It's really only been 2 weeks. 2 WEEKS! Crazy how the world keeps ticking. 2 weeks since we discovered my mom had a brain tumor. 2 weeks since the MRI revealed it was large and smack in the middle of her brain. Inoperable. Untreatable. Unstoppable.
It's a GBM phase IV. The worst of the worst (as more than one doctor has put it) Cancer - the C word. A Beast that is quickly enveloping her entire brain with it's greedy tenticles. Unreal.

5 days since out consult with a dr. at the cancer clinic. 5 days since we officially decided to walk the palliative path. It's a path that we've been unofficially tiptoeing down ever since coming to 5A.

My mom is going to die.
Every letter in that sentence breaks my heart. I hate it. It's too soon. Too fast. I'm not ready.

Mom has only been sick for about 2 months now. It started with tiredness, headaches and some flu symptoms. She laid in pain for weeks - the headaches taking every bit of her. She appeared depressed, not caring about anything. all she wanted to do was lay still in bed and hope for her headache to go away. When on a palliative path (end of life - terminal - nothing can save you now) path, pain management is #1. Such a rellief that she'll never be in pain again.

I deal with everything that's happening by nursing. (shoulda been one - or maybe I was one in another life...) Catching & measuring puke, emptying catheder bads, showering my mom, all help me help her. I enjoy (OK...I don't mind) helping her to the toilet, changing her sheets and keeping the nurses on their toes with med quizzes.
I know she'd do the same for me in a millisecond. I'm at the hospital early, stay late and in her room most of the time. I avoid company though. When she gets visitors I make myself scarce. I can't handle their sad looks or their complients that I'm so strong - doing so amazing.
F.U. is what I want to say. but perhaps, not the best PR for friendly, well meaning visitors... I'm not strong - I'm not the only one who's ever done personal care on their parent.
Maybe I am doing amazing, but that's what scares me. When will I lose it? When will I bawl and break things and scream and cuddle into a ball of fried emotions???
The reality is there won't be thime for that. Not now and not once we're back home. Too much shit to do. House is a friggin disaster. Kids have been without me for 2 weeks. I start back to work Jan 10. and I need to give 3 three my all. Plus there is all the other everyday things to do - all without the woman who kept my ducks in a row.

I am terrified for life after Arlene.

I know God needs her for something and I need to trust his plan for everything - but frig! - I need her for EVERYTHING!
Part if of me wants to give God the "tall man" and say FU!
The other part of me wants to go to church everyday, pray and pray and search and search for a spriritual meaning for this.
Both seem pretty radical...

Weight Watcher.

Today is the start of my second week as a weight watcher. I've signed up to do the 12 week program in Carlyle every Wednesday night. I've been thinking about it for quite awhile, but it just hasn't worked out until now. I'm completly inspired my 2 of my friends who are WW's and SMOKIN'!!! I want to be skinny like them! So I took the plunge, wrote the check, stepped on the scale and made the committment. Which for those who know me, know that I have committment issues - and even commiting to a coffee date is hard for me! For the next 12 weeks I'll be counting points, tracking what I put in my mouth, crossing my fingers as I look down at the scale and trying to get my fat ass a bit (or a lot) smaller!
I know that weight is like age with women - a closely held secret - but I want to be able to tell everyone how much I weigh, and not be embarassed one bit - and I want to buy some clothes and not cringe at the size. I want to leave a change room smiling, enter a room without sucking in my tummy, and for the first time in my life feel SKINNY! I have memories going all the way back to grade 4 of being embrassed by my weight.
Anyways, it's starting out good, with a loss of 3.2 lbs in my first week! Lets hope I can keep it up though Chiristmas (will I be able to resist all the cream cheese goodies Shier Christmas Eve is famous for??) and into the new year!
I have no idea what my ideal weight would be - in my adult years I've never been under 180 - so anything under that would be a dream! The smallest size I've been was a 12 (for a short time) - so being a single size would be insane!

2 years ago

October 3rd 2008:
Just another busy day in the life of the Tober's. One week before Heather's due date for baby #2. The day was typical in that there were errands run in town, chores done at both farms, a dog saved from yet another pesky creature (baby porcupine on this particular day), and a big steak supper for 2 guys from Matrix-Calgary (who'd been holed up in Oxbow for weeks with few food options...)
That night after the Matrix guys went back to town, and the dishwasher was filled I headed up to bed. Read a few pages in my perpetual book (takes literally months to read a book), switched off my lamp, rolled over and oops!!! my water broke. (i think)
I alert Dan to this possibility. He is does not believe me (he's half asleep on the couch, just getting into a new Law & Order) I head to the bathroom, legs trembling, to see what I can see. (Don't know what I expected!)
My water didn't break with Tristan (Drs did it at some point I assume) so I was a bit frazzled about this. Also - We were a week ahead of schedule! I had had no pains or hints that tonight would be the night, Tristan was a week late - I was gearing up for another overdue pregnancy. And besides - Pierson Craft Sale is tomorrow, and we're digging the trenches for our watering bowls - we HAD plans (not involving the arrival of a baby)
So I call the hospital to see if I should come in or wait for conractions to start. They say come in. I call mom to get her to come and watch Tristan. It is midnight by the time we leave the yard and the contractions have started. We are not expecting to have much time before this little baby arrives. Tristan was born 8 hours after the first contraction - no messing around when it comes to me having a baby! So if you believe what "they" say, this baby should take about half as long to come - 4hrs! yikes.
Turn onto the highway and 'bing bing' the Low Fuel Light comes on. 80kms to empty. Estevan is no more than 50 - we'll be alright. Let's just get there!
Speed up on the highway and the truck starts to shake and rattle. Mud in the tires. Washed my truck today, but didn't get all the mud out of the tires, aparently. SO. My laid-back chauffer sets the cruise at 80...80!!!! (and voila! no shake) HELLO - I'm in LABOR! anyway, I breathe through contractions, and try to block out his preactical advice on the importance of washing out the wheel wells.
We are just getting to Bienfait when the bright blue and red lights of a police car falsh on and pull us over.
cop: any alcohol in the vehicle?
dan: nope - just my wife in labour
cop: have you been drinking
dan: yeah, had a few beers at supper I guess
cop: i'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle sir
are you freakin' kidding me!!!??? can't a person drive 80 at midnight and not be assumed drunk?? did you not hear the wife in labour part?! a million things run through my head. what if he blows over? can i drive myself to the hospital? What if we run out of gas? What if the baby starts to come while they are in the car? can i deliver this baby myself? what would happen if i waddled out of this truck and lost it on the cop? can they arrest a psycho-preggo lady in labour? after what felt like an hour dan is free to leave and 'have a nice night!' cripes! thanks a lot moron cop! Now let's get going!!!!
We make it the final 15km incident free, and check in to the hospital. In the monitoring room for a bit, where I'm instructed to try to rest and relax. Dan would like to do both as well - and those chairs in the monitoring room are just not made for sleeping! So he heads out to the waiting room and brings in a lazy boy! Might as well be comfortable!
After a bit I decide to ask for some drugs (demerol) I had no drugs with T and feel kind of guilty asking for them - but the contractions seem to hurt WAY more this time, and I just don't feel that I can breathe through them like I did 15 months earlier.
The nurses say I need to be moved to the labour/delivery room if I want the drugs - so they wheel me down the hall. Dan, wheels the LAZY BOY down the hall!!! So, these drugs really get me loopy - I keep trying to talk to Dan, he shh's me, as he's trying to get some more sleep. When it's time to push, Dan announces that he needs to use the bathroom first, and attempts to leave the delivery room for the public washroom down the hall. The nurses don't let him get away that easy and 3 of them herd him to the closer bathroom within the delivery room. Dr. Naidu magically appears, Dan comes back, I push like, 4 times and out comes this new baby - A GIRL!!
I don't remember much of what happened until after we are back in the "recovery" room. I say to dan "So, what are we going to call this little Pinkie?" We had not talked about names at all throughout the pregnacy - we don't exactly have the same taste... He says "uh... Rachel." In a tone that made it seem like I was silly for even asking, as if we'd talked about it and Rachel was a soild agreed upon choice. Me, still doped up, says, "oh. OK!" I vaguely remember asking him what about Sierra, Harlo, Dylyn or Summer??? (my top 4, Rachel didn't even make the top 20!!)No, No, No, and No. He could never take someone named any of those names seriously - a girl with any of those names would never be a boss of a business or have a chance at a good job, purely based on the flakey name at the top of the resume.
So Rachel it was. Middle name? no question. Eileen. That's Dan's Granny's name. She is an incredible woman that he and I both adore. We couldn't think of a better way to honour our favorite, spunky lady!
Completly exhaused Dan leaves for home and I pass out with a smile on my face.
We love you Rachel!!!
Happy Birthday!!

MidWeek

The kids and I sleep in until 9:00!! Unbelievable and unnecessary.
After breakfast we make blender banana bread (yum!) and then head up stairs to get the kids dressed and to srtip the beds. (It's been awhile...) They have fun tugging and wrestling with the sheets and blankets from everyone's beds. They take all the pillows they can find and make a path down the hallway and into my room. They "march" from pillow to pillow, making elephant noises.
Just when I think I can sneak in a bit of computer time - it is complete hell. Screaming and crying and pushing and fighting. On me, beside me and all around in the office while I try to read my email, blog and make a facebook invite to T's birthday party.
We go outside to cool down and blow off some of that agression. Steer and kitten chores. Then back inside. The kids take a break and watch Mickey and I do up some treat bags in anticipation for the upcoming (date To be Determined) birthday party for a 3 year old.
It's nearing lunch time, so I phone a couple of my buddies to see if they want to meet me down the street from their place for a "bro-burger" at the Open House. The Schultz family join us for a fab beef on a bun lunch. Little Phoebe was perturbed by Tristan's enthusasim in a thing called BobCat (that's not even a REAL CAT) and T had fum showing Phoeb all the cool machinery and corals ("Gates") that they had sett up. From town we got the mail and then drove to Carnduff to check out the herd there.
Kids nap while on the road - so that's nice. Once home I finish tidying up the trianlge room (which is my crafty nook/catchall room) and hang up pictures in the spare room (it was painted over a year ago...)
Make supper for the 3 of us and then work on the calendar for preschool/prek. The kis help me bring in several load of freshly air-dryed clothes that we fold. (or I fold and they unfold and I re-fold). We head upstairs to make up all the beds that we stripped this morning.
Bath time and PJs/ Then downstairs again to watch the stamede. T doesn't make it to the bulls, which are his favorite and I feel a bit bad for him, he LOVES them!... but it IS 10:00! Rach makes it through all of the rodeo and most of the chuckwagon races before she zonks out. (such a trooper)
I change the lightbulbs that I've been meaning to change for a month, and make up a batch of quick and easy cards to have on hand. (baby gift/birthday) Then head to bed.

Day Three

Tuesday the 13th of July.
A day at home! (or so it seems...)
After the kids are up, fed and dressed we do our usual kitten and steer chores. Then we clean out my truck. Boy was it a mess! a grocery bag of garbage, one of recycling and a clothes basket of "house stuff" (clothes, toys, etc)
We gather up the laundry and wash and hang out a few loads. I LOVE hanging clothes on the line. It is like my favorite chore. I don't love putting them away... but I could hang them out all day long!
Then I load the kids in the tractor and go out back to re-stack the bales, as per Dan's instructions from this morning. It goes smoothly and only takes a bit more than an hour.
Mom comes over for lunch. She's here to help me with the kids and with tidying/reorganizing the office, triangle room and library. We get a pretty good dent in the mess when my Dad calls. He invites me to come to town with him to an Open House day for a new business in town. I hang up another load of clean clothes and hop in with him.
We spend an hour or so looking around at Meridian Rentals. Talking with sales reps for mineral tubs, waterers and coral systems. Then we come back to my place and move home the bales from our hay field across the coulee from our house.
Once we get them all home (3 loads) I come in to help mom make supper. After eating, I drive the truck and flat deck over to our heritage field and take a load of bales from their to mom and dad's. I help Dad unhook the mower, which was attached to the tractor that he drove over - nearly carried away my the huge swarms of mosquitoes!! Dan (who had the other trailer) drives up home at 11:00. Mom then leaves (she has bathed and put the kids to bed) I get the coffee and lunch ready for the morning. Watch a bit of stampede on TV and head to bed by midnight.

Day 2...

Monday the 12th
Dan has to be in Lampman before 6am every day from now to eternity (or until this leg of the Enbridge pipeline is done.) So therefore I am up at 4:30 everyday to make sure he is up, and to see him on his way (fill his thermos with coffee, take his lunch out of the fridge and give him a “have a good day” on his way out the door.) I then sleepily climb back into bed until a more acceptable hour (7:30 today). Once the kids and I are all up, dressed and fed we head outside for our daily morning chores. We have 4 kittens and 2 mama cats that need petted and fed. (4 other kittens have found new homes…these 4 are FREE to anyone who wants a meat-loving, kid-handled sweetheart) Tristan is so brave with the kittens, he loves picking up the “little fella”s and finding all their “brudders and seesters”. Rachel’s cat’s name is Jewel and she feels that all 4 kittens should be called Jewel too – so she chases them around – half bent over, peering at them – saying “jew-ull” over and over. Poor things.
Then it’s over to the arena to hay and water the steers. The kids like to look at and talk to these guys too – no petting though. They are a little big and fast for that!
We head to town after chores to get groceries. It feels like we’re there every friggin day! It was almost fun when they had the pot-sticker campaign, but that’s over now… (did get 4 pots outta it though!...not bad for $3500 in groceries in 6 months!)< Roll your eyes> Tristan’s job is to carry in the big water jugs – he huffs and puffs and is so proud of being such a strong big boy!
After groceries and a few other errands, I take Rachel to my mom's place to spend the afternoon with her. My mom is my on-call babysitter and i use her most days. It's so nice living close by and awesome that the kids get to spend so much time with thier "bobby".
Tristan came with me to finish up some baling at a field near Alida. He loves tractors and bales and this was a bit of a treat for him to come with me. After finishing up the bales we drive the tractor back to mom and dad's farm. This was too much of a trip for T - he fell asleep and needed to sit on my knee, with his head on my shoulder for the slow, bumpy trip back. Take T into mom's house so he can continue his nap in comfort. I unhook the baler and drive the tractor back to our place.
It is 3:00 when I get to our farm. I pick all the bales in our home hay field, until 7:30. I'm just finishing up when Dan comes home from work. I have stack the bales wrong. All that time and work and has now made more work for Dan. He will have to re-stack the majority of the bales tonight. (not happy)
We drive to the Alida field to pick up my truck. We have a fight (over what, I can't remember now... something I did wrong, or didn't do, or didn't think about while doing...) it's a big blow out - lots of yelling, tears, me hyperventilating, melting down, and wishing I wasn't alive.
Then I drive to my mom's for supper and to pick up the kids (it's 9:00pm now) After eating a yummy meat and potatoes supper I take the sleepyheads home. They don't make it down the lane before they're both snoring.
When I get home I leave them in the truck and feed the 2 hungry, barking dogs that greet me. Then one by one I bring the kids in the house and up the stairs to bed. Fingers crossed that they don't wake up. Phew. they stay sleeping.
Make Dan's lunch for tomorrow, set up the coffee timer and hit the hay.