Tuesday, August 31, 2010

There are times when I’m inclined to act impulsively. Jump to conclusions. Get hurt feelings due to the way someone has acted towards me or not responded to me, assuming that they are upset with me. These things have a common thread—jumping to conclusions, which causes me to react in a manner that isn’t in the best interest of the relationship, the situation or myself.

I’m an individual who functions at an exceptionally fast pace in all that I do. In addition, when I engage in something, I don’t do so half-heartedly. No way! When I’m in, I’m completely committed to that something or someone.

As such, it’s taken a bit of effort to adjust to the fact that most do not function at my speed or with my exactness. Realizing this was the easy part, learning to implement what it meant was quite another thing.

I had to teach myself to slow things down. That, for example, when someone didn’t get right back to me, it wasn’t necessarily due to him or her being upset with me. More likely, they were busy and would respond as soon as they could, not when I wanted.

A lot of that adjusting involved learning to temper my expectations. This isn’t to imply that I’m better than others. I’m not. Just that I had to learn that expecting folks to function at my level wasn’t being fair to them. Others have a right to exist at their own level of comfort.

I’m getting better at putting this into practice, though there are still times when my knee-jerk reaction is to jump to conclusions or act impulsively. What does all this mean? Simply that I’m a work in progress…just as we all are. That I am willing to honestly acknowledge parts of my character that could use some fine-tuning, and I’m not afraid to dig in and get the job done.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Ever notice how if there’s something that really appeals to you—that which you can’t imagine not being an integral part of you—you manage to find a way to incorporate it into your life? How, despite your schedule being crammed full to the point you wonder how you’ll have time enough to eat or much less sleep, you somehow find a way to integrate that whatever-it-is into the fabric of your being?

I’ve always been of the mind that the more a person does, the more they are capable of, meaning, heap another helping of tasks or desires to be completed on their plate, and they’ll find a way to do them. They can, that is, if they don’t waste precious time complaining about how they are going to get the things done. And if they are willing to acknowledge the things that are important to them, making them priorities.

This theory I’ve put into practice more than ever this year, striving to accomplish all my tasks, seek new ways to better myself as a person and identify my goals and desires, doing whatever it takes to prioritize them. Personally, though many might find this approach exhausting, I find it to be my personal fountain of youth, especially the latter, for I believe that by acknowledging and serving my needs, I am rejuvenated, allowing me to better serve those around me. And in the end, this allows me to be more productive.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

It’s amazing how quickly one can assimilate back into an old routine, and how comforting that can be.

Although I’ve been on the road for the past month, sleeping atop sofas, moving from here to there and making a quick trip to South Carolina, I found that when I came home, all those newly learned processes fell away almost from the moment I walked in the door.

And when I got the chance to meet up with some very special friends last night for a long evening of fun, letting our hair down and just being us, the coming home part got easier still, helping to ease the pain of having to leave behind my new granddaughter, her folks and my other daughter.

When I left Arizona to return to Caifornia, I wondered if there might be a transition period. A time of re-familiarizing myself with my schedules and responsibilities here. Didn’t turn out that way. But then, I don’t have the luxury of down time preceding and following my travels. Never have, probably never will, thus I have learned to land on my feet, and like a cat chasing a mouse, I’m off and running. Coming home, even after such a lengthy time away, didn’t change that.

So, at least for the next three days, I’ll enjoy the comfort of being back home, in my own bed, and resuming my normal routine. Then will come Thursday when I’ll jump on another plane and head out of state for another five days. But I have every bit of confidence that I’ll assimilate to that trip and, though away and following a demanding schedule, will manage to still honor all of my commitments, for I know that doing so will bring me comfort.

Friday, August 27, 2010

There are days when a little procrastination is a good thing. Today, that was certainly true.

I got up and finished packing and loading my car with the help of Kai’s daddy. Then we three had fun chatting, relaxing and marveling over Kai, all of us half asleep from a very long night with her, while Kai’s folks made me a farewell breakfast of blueberry pancakes and maple bacon. (Excuse me while I wipe away my drool.)

Smelling the food and hearing us start to eat, Kai decided to awake and want to be held, so her daddy got her up, and she joined us at the table, cradled in his loving arms. We ate. She cooed, wiggled and took us all in with her oh, so curious wide eyes.

When it came time for me to leave a bit later, I stalled as long as possible. Holding Kai in my arms earlier, I had privately said my good-bye to her before handing her to my daughter. Somehow, I managed to make it through that without tearing up. But then, once I’d bid farewell to and hugged Kai’s folks, my daughter said, “Don’t you want to hold Kai before you go?”

That did it. I couldn’t even choke out an, “Of course,” without my voice falling apart. And when my daughter reached her out to me, my eyes were so welled up with tears that I could barely make her out. Sensing something was amiss, Kai let out a squeak of a cry, but settled down the minute I took her. She looked up at me with her beautiful inquisitive eyes and then burrowed her head against my neck and began making the sweetest cooing sounds as one of her hands wrapped around my arm.

Lord, as if my heart hadn’t already shattered, that gesture did me in. I laid my face against the top of her head so her folks wouldn’t see me fall apart, knowing that if they did, we’d end up in a mess of tears, I’d never get on the road and Kai’s daddy would be late to work.

It took a few moments to pull myself together enough to be able to look up. When I did, Kai’s folks acted as though they hadn’t seen me crying and averted their eyes, lest they, too, begin. I then handed Kai back to her mommy and excused myself to the restroom where I grabbed a tissue and stood there shaking from the effort of fighting back the urge to dissolve.

Driving home, I called my daughter and we texted a bit when I stopped to get gas. When I arrived home, my youngest son and husband were just as thrilled to see me as I was them. They let me freshen up, and then we went out to dinner to celebrate my return, all sharing with one another our individual adventures over the past month.

On our drive home, I texted my daughter. She texted back, and then called me, asking some advice about baby Kai.

So, things have gotten back to a more normal flow, different than before, but more the norm than they have been. And with the help of technology, I’m never more than a text or call away from my one daughter or Kai and her folks. And that suits me just fine.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Transition. Change. These are the things that affect us all and, if allowed, direct us to broader understanding.

Lots of changes have transpired in my family of late. I relocated away from my husband and youngest son for a month to help my daughters. Then my one daughter became a mother. And that created an interesting dynamic between her and her sister, who always thought she’d be the first to give us grandchildren.

Then there was the constant state of worry that all of us had been living in for the past number of months, concerned that Kai would have Cystic Fibrosis. A huge burden was lifted and a shift of focus took place when her test results came back negative.

There have been the not-so-gradual changes that have transpired in Kai’s household. As those of us who have had children know, there’s really no way to prepare for just how up-heaved one’s life becomes when a newborn is thrown into the equation.

Since Kia’s birth, we have had to adjust our expectations to fit into her scheme of things. How she had complications that required and continue to require that she return to the doctor frequently. We’ve had to get used to giving her medicine preceding every meal. And then we’ve had to keep her in an upright position for at least thirty minutes following every meal to give her the best possible chance of keeping said meal in her. Then came the lactose intolerance. And most recently, we had to restrict how much food she eats per feeding.

I’ve watched the chemistry between my two daughters morph, then get strained and find its common ground again as the two have had to adjust to their new roles in their relationship—one of mother, the other of auntie.

Me, I had to make plans to relocate for an indefinite amount of time, not knowing what would result after Kai’s birth. And then, once it became apparent that she was having problems, I readjusted again, abandoning any hopes of going home until things had settled down here—where I was needed most.

My husband and youngest son have had to adjust to me not being home, much less in the state. And when I’ve spoken to my now high school son and heard the slight quiver in his voice when he’d ask, “When are you comeing home, Mom?” I had to choke back my own tears and say, “Honey, I don’t’ know. It all depends on Kai.”

This week, with the results of Kai’s tests in and negative, I’ve readjusted again, and began to put into motion my returning home. That’s taken a bit of doing, for I’ve needed to prepare Kai’s folks for my imminent departure, instilling in them the self-confidence that they will be able to handle their daughter on their own. I’ve had to run intervention a few times with my daughters to stop senseless squabbling and get them back on track to work together, for when I’m gone, they will need to draw upon each other more than ever. Then I’ve made announcements back home and to all my work contacts and friends that I do now have a return date—something all have been eager to discover since before I left.

All those cards have been put into place, and today I’m preparing myself mentally and physically to return home—tomorrow. As I write this, my hands shake and my eyes well up, thinking of leaving behind my girls and Kai and her family. Can’t imagine not seeing Kai every day. Being soothed by her grunts and coos. Marveling over her every development. Being able to be there in person, to look my daughter in the eye when I help her understand how best to mother her daughter. And to not be able to see my own girls interact with one another every day…well….

Last night we all got together and had a farewell dinner. Tonight, we’ll have a smaller gathering and possibly another movie marathon, not wanting to waste what time we have left together sleeping. And then tomorrow, I’ll begin my long drive home around noon.

Yup, transition and change, there has been an awful lot of that in my family of late. And you know what, just like I tell my daughters about my having to leave, we’re all going to do just fine and be led to broader understanding as a result.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I just commented to a parent who was feeling the beginnings of empty nest syndrome after sending one child off the college and the youngest off to begin their first year of high school. So why does empty nest syndrome affect us so much?

The day we bring children into our household is the day an organized sense of chaos becomes a welcomed part of our daily lives. And when those children grow and leave us, a hollowness appears in the pit of our stomach that’s difficult to discern.

One part sadness, another of mourning, still more of a sense of accomplishment that we succeeded in our quest to create capable young adults. Those emotions swirl and churn in our gut, filling us with an almost overwhelming sense of loneliness. Why? Because, for the first time since bringing those children into hour household, thus encasing ourselves in a constant of organized chaos, we finally have a state of calm bathe over our households.

Learning how to make the transition from active children-filled household to that of an empty, or almost empty, nest can be a bit jarring. But take heart. Although this sudden calm is as foreign to us as a new language, it’s the natural order of things, and knowing this is what gives us strength to willingly accept this new phase of our lives.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Children are our most valued treasures, or they should be. And when something is amiss with one of them, as parents, it breaks our hearts. As such, I’ve got to admit that having life resume a more normal tempo is a huge relief after the stress we’ve been living with for months now.

The day I learned that there might be something seriously wrong with my unborn granddaughter was an emotionally tough one. Not because I didn’t think our family could embrace a special needs child—I knew we could. But having to watch the stress it caused my daughter, not being able to do anything to alleviate that, was one of the toughest things I’ve had to watch.

Though my daughter was strong, and just a determined as the rest of us to embrace her unborn child—no matter what—anxiety levels rose. And why wouldn’t they? The reality we were being asked to face was a tough one.

As the months progressed and more ultrasounds concurred that the baby might have CF, each of us sought to educate ourselves as to what that involved. What the future would hold for the as-of-yet unborn child. Her parents. The rest of the family. What we learned was that the CF journey is an uphill one.

Armed with our new knowledge my family prepared, as best it could, for what might be. We carried on in the manner we always do, as a strong family unit, offering one another space when needed and surrounding ourselves with a protective shield of our family’s strength.

In the days since Kai was born, each new symptom she showed, began to tear down our resolve, and we grew impatient with not receiving the test results within the one-week time period we’d been promised at the hospital. We hated having to see Kai endure and suffer, wondering if those test results could pave an easier path for her, arming doctors with knowledge as to why she was having such trouble. (If you’ve never had to witness a newborn in near constant discomfort, I don’t recommend it, as it’s heartbreaking.)

As the days progressed, and Kai’s aliments began being diagnosed, we became hopeful that her suffering might soon be resoled. And when it became apparent that she needed to have her tongue-tie snipped, we eagerly agreed, anxious to bring her peace.

It’s been over twenty-four hours since that procedure was done, and I’m thrilled to say that Kai is almost completely symptom-free. And the fact that her test results came back negative—an added bonus.

Yes, it is nice to have things settling down to a more normal tempo.

Monday, August 23, 2010

What a difference a day can make.

Last night, Makaila was having difficulties due to diagnosed conditions, and we were on pins and needles about the test result we were to receive at her doctor appointment today.

Why was she going to the doctor? Kai was born extremely tongue-tied. As tied as she could get. Allow me to explain what that means. The membrane under the tongue that attaches it is usually connected to the middle of the tongue. When someone is tongue-tied, however, it comes out and connects to near or at the tip of the tongue, making it impossible for the person to stick their tongue out past their lower lip. With Kai, this membrane connected all the way to the tip of her tongue.

Being tongue-tied is a hereditary condition, which she shares with my youngest son. However, unlike my son, it was affecting Kai’s ability to eat. Without being able to wrap her tongue around a nipple, she could not get good suction. As a result, getting food into her was proving a challenge. That was why we were at the doctor’s today, to have that membrane snipped so she could eat with ease. The procedure went well, us staying in the room throughout, and Kai came through like a trooper.

Although we were to get the lab test result while there, fate made us wait hours more, seeing as the lab hadn’t released them. With nerves still on edge, we took Kai home. Once there, we were amazed to see how easily she could eat. In addition, there was no throwing up. Her constant squirming due to her immature digestive track problem seemed to almost disappear. For the first time in her sixteen days alive, Kai was experiencing life without being in constant pain, and we couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Several more hours went by before we got the call we’d been waiting for from the doctor, who called personally to deliver the lab results. I watched the look on my daughter’s face as she listened to the doctor, and my heart soared with each passing moment. By the time she hung up, she was positively beaming when she told me, “All the tests came back negative!”

“Even the Cystic Fibrosis one?” I asked, my voice tinged with incredulousness I felt.

“Yes, even that one,” my daughter said.

It took a few seconds for the news to fully register. And when it did, I didn’t know whether to cry, shout out my joy, jump up and down or all of the above. The world stopped, and for the first time in months, we all took deep cleansing breaths, letting out the stress that had been and drinking in the utter relief we felt.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

There are times in life when I want to freeze time. Maintain all that is just as it is. Keep hope alive. Don’t want to learn more. Or be made privy to things that might cause me pain.

That’s where I’m at tonight. Tomorrow Kai goes into the doctor for an appointment and to find out the results of the newborn tests and more that were done on her when she was born. In the fifteen days since she’s been born, there have been several trips to the doctor and two occasions when she almost went to the emergency room.

The results of those visits have revealed that she has a couple of digestive track issues, which we treat before and after every feeding. The treatments have gone a long ways towards easing her discomfort, but haven’t completely solved them. And in the interim, other things have cropped up that make us question what else might be going on with her.

We’re hoping that the test results tomorrow will shed some light on what might be. One of the tests run was for Cystic Fibrosis. When my daughter was six months along in her pregnancy, an ultrasound revealed that Kai might have this. A follow-up ultrasound with a specialist concurred. Had we opted to put the baby at risk, we could have found out for sure. But doing that test would have changed nothing. Kai was still going to come into this world a welcomed and cherished part of our family. And knowing ahead of time if she had Cystic Fibrosis wouldn’t have changed that or the way we felt about her.

As much as we’ve all been anxiously awaiting the test results, tomorrow seems to have arrived way too soon. Will we be ready for whatever is revealed? In the wee hours of the night, when it’s just Kai, my daughter and me awake, I’ve discussed what might be with my daughter and am deeply touched and impressed that her nature which revealed itself when she was a young girl, that of being drawn to and having an easy way with those with special needs, hasn’t abandoned her when she might need to draw upon that strength.

Are we prepared for what the tests results will reveal? No. How could we be? But will we shy away from them? Absolutely not, for we’ll do what we always do, face them head-on as a solid family unit. As such, there’s nothing we can’t handle.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

I always say I’m officially on vacation when I forget what day it is. And with me being a person centered on time and days, that’s saying a lot. But sometimes, all that attention to time and dates falls apart, like it did on Thursday.

As of then, I’d been living on the road for nearly three weeks, during which, I’d dwelled in two separate states and three different places. As such, things got a little askew with my internal calendar.

In anticipation of this happening, I brought a pocket calendar along for my relocation on which I have listed important occasions for friends and family. On Thursday, I took it out and noticed that there were two important anniversaries of my friends coming up, taking note that they weren’t this week, but the following.

I made a mental reminder to send good wishes to my friends the following week. But…as fate would have it, by the end of the day, I’d forgotten that this was not the week of their special events, only that their events were imminent. So what did I do, I went ahead and sent them good wishes—exactly one week early. The following day, realizing my faux pas, I sent emails of apology for my over-eagerness. As a result of this slip, I have realized that I’ve officially been living on the road too long, seeing as I can’t seem to keep my weeks straight.

What does all this mean? I suppose it’s time to start thinking about returning home to a more normal schedule. Will I leave Arizona right away? No. But I’m now entertaining the concept.

Friday, August 20, 2010

I’m not sure if others feel the same, but I’ve always found that the more chaotic things are around me, the more calm and organized I become. Take now for example. I’m helping round the clock with a newborn, getting little sleep as a result, and having to help troubleshoot things that are not going well with the baby while still maintaining my workload.

Perhaps this is due to necessity. Or maybe it’s because I function better under pressure.

Last night, Kai’s daddy was discussing how he thinks it would be a good idea to have Kai on a schedule. To this, I had to turn around so he wouldn’t see me grin. His argument was that it would be more convenient for everyone if she got used to sleeping through the night. To this I somewhat choked on my laugh as I tried to stifle it.

Kai’s daddy is one who likes to have things orderly. I can relate. I’m the same way. But having a baby throws as giant wrench in things. So, since I’ve been there done that, I felt it my job to help point out that convenience is not what babies and children are all about, as any person who’s been a parent can attest. Of course, I did temper my comments with those agreeing that it would be a good for Kai to get on a schedule where her days and nights aren’t mixed up, pointing out that this happened with all of my own kids by the time they were six weeks old. And I shared with him how I managed that.

Today, I awoke with a new drive. It may have been sparked by our conversations about schedules last night. I managed to get twice as much done in half the time. How did I manage? The same way I do when not on the road and living and helping with a newborn—I made my list of to-do things the night before and as soon as I got up, began plowing through said items, working my schedule around that of Kai’s. After all, she does come first.

The organization/schedule bug also struck my daughter, probably also from our discussion last night. From early this morning, she began “spring cleaning” the apartment. And in between, she mentioned how, beginning next week, she’s going to take over doing everything for Kai, in an attempt to get them both on a schedule that they can maintain once I’m gone.

I must admit that I was impressed by her dedication, and I’ll do everything I can to help her achieve her goal, even if that means stepping back and doing nothing unless asked to.

Yup, schedules…. It seems that my mentality is carrying on with Kai’s folks—the more chaotic a situation they find themselves in—having a new baby—the more organized and scheduled they become. And I think that’s a good thing.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Is it wrong to put the world on hold to marvel over a sleeping child? Want to commit to memory every nuance of their being?

Since the day my own children were born, a lifetime ago, I’ve wondered over this. I used to spend hours at the side of their crib or wherever they were sleeping just staring at them. Taking in their every movement and sound. My husband used to find me doing this and would ask what I was doing. I’d tell him I never wanted to forget those special moments. And I never have.

When I told my daughter about this while she was pregnant, she thought it was weird. But, since Kai has been born, I find both her and Kai’s daddy doing the same thing—stopping the world to fuse into their minds all that she does, especially when she’s sleeping.

I’ve contemplated why it is that I’ve continued to do this, gazing at my kids as they sleep, throughout their lives. When we moved my oldest daughter to begin her first year of college, we spent the night at a hotel near the campus. That night, as everyone else slept, I sat in a chair, watching my daughter sleep for near an hour, her hair splayed out around her like a golden halo. She was on her tummy, turned away from me, and I kept flashing back to when she was tiny, how she slept in the exact same position—her favorite, and how much joy it brought me to see how at peace she was.

Some may call me a creeper. Being a night owl, I work long hours every day. Most nights, not turning in until 2-3 in the morning. As such, I have the rare opportunity to glimpse my kids, passing by their opened doors, as they sleep. My reaction is always the same, I pause and lean against the doorjamb, watching them, filled with the same sense of wonder I had when they were first born.

I wonder if my kids will carry on this tradition with their own children. I hope so.

Over the years, I’ve mentioned how I do this to various friends who tell me that they used to, but stopped as their kids began to grow. That fills me with sadness, for I know how much joy I’ve received over the years by slowing down the world enough to take the time to marvel over my sleeping children.

As I write this, I’m carrying on my tradition by watching Kai sleep as I babysit her for the first time. It’s taken forever for me to get this blog written, for I keep pausing to gaze in wonder at her. Yup, this is a tradition to keep.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

I blogged yesterday about becoming a calming voice here in AZ while helping with Kai and her folks. Of how integrating that into the new parent routine has gone a long way towards smoothing over what may have been rough spots. After writing yesterday’s blog, I considered how a calming voice could help in anyone’s everyday life.

By adopting a calming inner voice, one has the potential to process things more objectively and in doing so, the ability to act in a manner that assures the best outcome. In order to achieve a calming inner voice, one must slow things down. Take additional time to sort them out.

One might think there’s not enough time to do so. But they need to contemplate if they have time to worry themselves sick over a circumstance. Or act impulsively, due to feeing rushed and not having taken the time to assess the situation from all possible angles. Viewing the bigger picture creates a more objective outlook in most cases.

So what’s the bottom line? When faced with life’s difficulties, treat yourself to a calming inner voice by taking a few extra beats before reacting. That may involve counting to ten. Or waiting three days to allow all elements of what’s happening to sink in prior to reacting. However you do it, strive to achieve a calming inner voice. Once reached, it will see you through, lowering your stress level and maintaining your sanity.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Becoming the calm in the midst of potential brewing chaos. That’s what I’ve become, in essence, since staying with my new granddaughter, Makaila, and her folks.

With new parents, every aspect of having a newborn can seem overwhelming. And although they prepare and read up on what to expect, the practical application of that information seems to go right out the window in much the same way that Lamaze techniques are quickly abandoned when the first real hard labor pains kick in.

As I’m here, twenty-four-seven helping out with Makaila, I have the unique opportunity to help put to rest many of the concerns that crop up with her parents. They constantly want to know if the sounds she makes are normal. Or when her umbilical cord would fall off. Or if her bowel movements are right. Or if she’s eating enough. Or if what she’s eating—breast milk—might be right for her. This last usually becomes a concern when she spits up a little while being burped, a perfectly normal occurrence, yet frightening to new parents who prefer that what goes into their treasured child stay in her.

I view my job while staying here as one where I’m the calming voice. The one that helps Makaila’s folks understand that their beautiful daughter will not spontaneously explode. She will be perfectly fine and, no, they don’t need to stand at the side of the crib and stare at her. Instead, if they have the rare opportunity, they should try to get some rest.

I can empathize with their plight, for I, too, was once that new worrywart of a parent. And each time I brought a newborn home, although I’d had previous experience, this new baby was different. Reacted in unique ways to its sibling(s). Ate on its own schedule. Slept as long as they needed, etc. And so I’d have to begin anew, learning the ways of this new baby. Yes, I drew from my past parenting experience, but had to learn a whole new ebb and flow to that parenting.

So, as I rise with my daughter each and every time that Makaila awakes during the night and help out, I treasure the opportunity I have to be right by my daughter’s side to answer her questions that no one was there to answer for me when I became a parent. During the day, I do the same, standing back and letting Makailas’s folks handle her so they can learn to feel comfortable, though I become actively involved in an instant should they ask for my assistance. And when Makaila’s daddy turns to me for advise or my opinion, which happens often, I handle his concerns like I do my daughter’s, with a pleasant calming disposition that introduces harmony and success into Makaila’s parents’ attempts, for that is what I think a calming force does.

Monday, August 16, 2010

There are times when one has to take a step back and assess a relationship. Is there hope for it? Can it be mended? If so, what benefit might you gain from it?

I’ve spent the past four days reconnecting with family in South Carolina, many of which I haven’t seen in quite some time. Others I’ve never met. And, like with most families, there were strained situations with individuals.

I believe in maintaining relationships, especially long-term ones. But there comes a point when it’s prudent to analyze if it’s healthy to continue trying to mend a broken relationship. Recognize if both parties are interested in reconciliation. If not, then no matter how hard you try, or how much you give of yourself, reconciliation is not possible.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that a happy medium can’t be achieved. In fact, I’m a firm believer in having folks get along with one another, only if that’s on the surface, so as to eliminate awkwardness when inevitable meetings occur.

So, I entered this weekend hoping for the best, but realizing that reconciliation would most likely not occur. I’m willing, but the other person is not. The weekend began with a heavy silence lying between us like a brick wall. But halfway through, the other person offered a surface civility that helped to ease the tension. And for that I’m grateful. Up until that point, my efforts had gone ignored, even when I tried to greet them.

Although it’s not the happy ending I’d hoped for, I realize that progress was made, which gives me hope for the future. And in the end, that’s all we can do—hope.

Saturday, August 25, 2010

My grandfather turned ninety today, and we had a large gala to celebrate. Our family is spread across the country, and it was wonderful to see how many made the effort to come and celebrate. At the event, there was standing room only, as more and more of my grandfather’s friends arrived to help him commemorate his special day. There must have been one hundred plus individuals in attendance, and watching my grandfather shine under their attention was heartwarming.

An aunt and I discussed how we hope we’re as fortunate to be so well thought of when we’re ninety. To be surrounded by so many. Later in the evening, one of my cousins and I spoke of how our grandfather is a giving man—always has been, with an enthusiasm for life and a kind heart that has always and will continue to be an inspiration to us. We went on to talk about how karma plays a big part in a person’s life, and how happy we were to be able to witness the positive karma our grandfather is now reaping as a result of a lifetime of being charitable with his love, time and acceptance.

Our family hung out with my grandfather from nine in the morning until nine this evening, during which time, he drove several of us on a tour of the island, stopping along the way to pick up Starbucks coffee and for him to run to the market. Everywhere we went, we encountered people whose faces lit up when they say my grandfather, and that pleased me.

After lunch, we parted for a couple of hours before reconvening for the festivities. All of us changed into nice clothes and my grandfather donned his kilt in honor of his Scottish heritage. Love it when he does that.

Since parting ways this evening, I can’t get over how my grandfather, at age ninety, is still spry, witty, active and sharp as a tack. He reads four major worldly newspapers each day and, as a result, can debate any subject with anyone and win—every time!

If I had to pick one person who’s been a constant role model for me and the one whom I look up to the most, it would be my grandfather. Without a doubt, he is an amazing man!

Friday, August 13, 2010

Today began simply enough with my granddaughter’s daddy and I bumping into one another in the hallway at their apartment where I’m staying to help with the new baby. He looked at me and said, “You know it’s Friday the thirteenth.”

I nodded and said, “Sure do.”

“Any yet you’re flying today?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Yup, and everything will be fine. Have to believe in superstitious stuff for it to affect you, and I don’t,” I said, in a tone that denoted my utter confidence that things would be fine.”

“O-kay,” he said.

We left it at that and finished getting ready, me sipping coffee and putting the last of the things in my suitcase while trying not to think about having to leave. When the time came, I bent down to give Kai a kiss good-bye and choked up in the process, sad that I wouldn’t be seeing her for the next few days.

Her daddy drove me to the airport, and I headed in to check in. I made it upstairs to wait for them to call for us to board my flight, stopping at a news shop to buy a bottle of water. Just about then, I realized it was really hot in the airport, like the air conditioning wasn’t working. When I paid for my water, the woman at the register confirmed that it was malfunctioning.

Oh goody! I have an hour to wait in this heat.

As my clothes began to stick to me with my own sweat, and my jeans began to feel oh, so constricting, I watched the minutes tick by. They called for our flight to board, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled, now completely drenched in sweat, of the prospect of being able to sit on an nice cool plane for the next few hours. Each passenger had his or her ticket scanned and then proceeded in an orderly line into the gateway tunnel, connecting the terminal to the plane.

My seat was near the very back of the plane, and so a long line stretched out in front of me. Did I mention that it was 110 degrees outside at the time? No? Well, how about that the gateway tunnel wasn’t air conditioned, and that we had the privilege of standing in said confined convection oven for ten minutes before boarding the plane? We did. And somewhere in the course of that, a little chant began in my head that went something like I’m melting. I’m melting. I’m mellllllting!

Once on the plane and settled into my seat, the fight crew closed the plane door and there we sat for the next hour with only hot air blowing on us instead of air conditioning.

Good lord! Are they trying to turn us into worthless puddles of sweat?

Why did we sit there sweltering? We were later informed that the “air truck” (whatever the heck that is) was low on fuel, and they had to wait for it to gas up before they could “finish.”

An hour later and feeling like I’d been living in my clothes for the past week, we pulled back from the gate and took off. As soon as we did, blessed air conditioning flowed freely, and a cheer resonated through the cabin. Even with behind schedule, the pilot did an incredible job of getting us to our layover destination of Atlanta on time.

Yeah!

Exiting the plane and entering the Atlanta airport, I noticed that it was unusually hot in the building.

Great! Just great! This AC isn’t working right either.

Having to go to the restroom, I decided to avoid the crowds and use the one at my next gate. I made my way to the terminal via a tram to catch my connecting flight. Arriving at my gate, I noticed that both the women’s restrooms were closed for cleaning.

Are you kidding me?

Looking around, I noticed that there wasn’t another ladies’ room anywhere near my gate. I asked one of the cleaners how long the john would be closed, and she assured me it would only be another minute or so. Just then, I realized that I’d forgotten to buy some toothpaste at the last airport and tried to decide if I had time to get some here and use the facilities. Of course, there was my pressing need to go pee, and I didn’t relish the idea of having to walk all the way back to the store, towards the other end of the terminal, trying to cross my legs as I walked, to keep from peeing.

Oh, so many decisions….

Just then, the ladies room was reopened, and that made up my mind: pee now, worry about toothpaste later.

Besides, almost all hotels now offer samples of toothpaste to guests.

Pleased that I’d found a way to solve both my problems, I used the restroom. When I exited, they were boarding my flight, and I headed to the gate. As soon as I handed my ticket to the agent, I rounded a corner and, along with the other passengers ahead of me, was faced with a couple flights of switchback stairs, leading down onto the runway.

Our plane, a tiny 33-passenger “puddle jumper,” had to be boarded by a rollaway staircase leading up to it. So we marched through the 90-degree plus heat, with a humidity factor thick enough to make you want to scream, to our awaiting plane.

We boarded. The plane’s door was shut, and then we sat. And waited. And sat. And waited some more. After about fifteen minutes, the pilot came on and told us that we had another 10-15 minutes to wait before we could join the line of other planes in the cue to take off. At that time, the flight attendant came around and distributed cups of iced water to the passengers, since there was no air conditioning running on the plane while we were parked. By this time, bathing in my own sweat again for the second time in one day, I chugged my iced water and tried not to melt. Twenty minutes passed, and then the pilot came on, informing us that there was an hour and a half wait in the cue to take off. I honestly wondered if there would be a mutiny at that point. But just as tempers flared, the pilot explained that he had asked for and been granted, permission to take off from another runway.

Thank goodness! Mutiny averted.

From Atlanta to South Carolina was only a 58-minute fight. But I knew my grandfather had arranged for a driver to pick me up and hoped they wouldn’t be sitting there that whole time.

The fight went well, though we hit turbulence and weren’t allowed out of our seats—a bit of a problem since I’d been drinking a lot of water to stay hydrated and needed to use the john.

Oh well, I can wait until we get to South Carolina and duck in a bathroom before I have to meet up with the driver.

Touching down, I realized the airport was the tiniest I’d ever seen. Quaint, but tiny. As soon as I entered it, I saw my driver holding up a sign with my name on it. Fate was cruel, and as I neared him, I saw that the ladies’ room was right beside him. But I felt bad that he’d been waiting, and thus decided to wait until I got to the hotel.

On the drive there, I looked at my watch and noticed that it was 9:45 PM.

Hmmm.... I’m hungry.

I did a quick inventory of my day and recalled that I hadn’t eaten anything sine a sandwich at 11:00 AM and it was now near 10:00 PM.

Well, I do have raw almonds and wheat thins in my suitcase. If all else fails, and I can’t get food, that will suffice.

A few minutes later, I arrived at the hotel, got checked in and inquired, per my drivers’ suggestion, at the front desk to see about getting food. I was told that if I was quick, I could phone in an order for pizza to be delivered. Stomach growling, my fingers flew as they punched in the phone number to the pizza place.

I then went up to my room and called my daughter, the one who just had the baby. We talked while I unpacked. Then my room phone rang, informing me that my pizza had arrived. Still talking to my daughter on my cell phone, I headed back out of the building, around pitch black twists and turns along a walkway, to the front office where I took possession of my pizza.

Back up in my room, I flopped on the sofa near the floor AC unit, thrilled to finally have my long day winding down, and began eating while still catching up with my daughter. About five minutes passed, and I caught movement by the edge of the AC unit out of the corner of my eye.

Holy crap! Was that just a mouse?!

Recoiling my feet up onto the sofa, I leaned forward to get a better look. And as I did so, what was on the wall came into full focus. I emitted little gagging sounds. My daughter, concerned, asked if everything was okay. Not answering right away, I sprang up on the sofa, dancing and prancing around on it like some scaredy-cat female.

There on the wall, less than three feet away from and heading towards me, was the largest cockroach I’ve ever seen! It was three inches in length and disgusting as all hell. I told my daughter what was wrong, and she told me to kill it. So I picked up my sandal and hit it—hard and direct. Only the bastard, now two legs short of what it had a second earlier, didn’t have the grace to be squashed.

Oh, no! That big bertha of a bug jumped off the wall towards me, me hopping and prancing, gagging and trying not to scream whole my daughter made equally strange sounds on her end of the phone when I told her it hadn’t died. She told me to hit it again. I readied myself to do, and I’ll be damned if the beast of a bug didn’t high tail it into the safety of the AC unit.

Well, that does it! I’m not eating any more pizza.

Just about then, I realized that I’d forgotten to get toothpaste.

Damn it!

My daughter had to go, and I called the front desk, hoping that housecleaning had some toothpaste. I swear to god that the man on the line had a smile to his voice when he happily informed me that they didn’t provide any, nor did they sell it. But…he offered, “There’s a convenience store a mile down the road in either direction that does.”

Oh joy! It’ll be so much fun to walk that tomorrow in the oppressive humidity with teeth that haven’t been properly brushed. Oh, and did I mention that I’m meeting up with family members whom I haven’t seen in quite a while for breakfast at 8:00 AM?

Yeehaw! Let the good times roll!

By that time, I was too tired and frustrated to do anything more about the cockroach and so began writing this blog.

What have I learned from this experience? When someone questions the sanity of my flying/traveling on Friday the thirteenth, from now on, I will abort any plans I have to do so!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I leave Arizona early tomorrow morning to fly to South Carolina for my grandfather’s ninetieth birthday celebration. This will be the first birthday of his I’ve ever spent with him, and I’m really excited. Was iffy whether or not I’d be able to go, since I didn’t know exactly when my daughter would deliver Makaila.

But things have worked out in favor of my going, and my grandfather is so very pleased. Me? I’ve got mixed feelings about going. For sure, I’m excited to be able to see my grandfather again and to reunite with family members, some of whom I haven’t seen in over twenty-seven years, as well as others I’ve never met, that are flying in from across the country. But I’m sad about having to leave Makaila and her folks, even though it will only be for a few days.

Yes, I’m that attached—already.

Late last night and into the wee hours of this morning, every time I’d hold Makaila, I’d start to get choked up, thinking about not being around and help out with her. Her folks have reiterated time and time again how grateful they are that I’m here, and that I’m welcome to stay as long as I want.

In a way, I feel like Mary Poppins. I drove in when I was needed most and won’t leave until everyone is ready to have me go. Why will I do this? When I was a new mom, I had no one to stand by and help me learn the ropes of motherhood. Always missed that and vowed I wouldn’t make my children learn the ropes of parenthood the hard way. Instead, I’ll be there to answer their questions and put to rest their normal anxieties, so normal to first-time parents.

So far, I’ve had an amazing stay here. There have been several high points. I got to be present when my daughter delivered, and I’ve enjoyed being the calming voice when Makaila’s parents have begun to stress out. But above all, I don’t think there’s anything that’s more precious than seeing the look in my granddaughter’s eyes when she looks at me and locks eyes. It feels as if she’s saying, “Thanks for being here, Mimi. It’s helping to smooth over the rough spots.”

Though, I managed to delay packing all day, I finally got around to it this evening, much of the time, cradling Makaila in one arm while packing with the other. We shared meaningful time packing together, and if I had more room, I’d find a way to take her with me. Though I think her folks might get a tad upset with that.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

With today’s blog, I hope to bring awareness to an infant car seat that, in my opinion, is unsafe. Take a look at the photo accompanying today’s blog. In it is pictured Makaila sitting in what was her newborn car seat. Notice how her head is hanging forward.

That was what happened when we put the car seat in the backseat of my daughter’s 2008 Ford Escape. Was anything wrong with the car? No. The problem originated as a result that there is no way to level the car seat to that of the vehicle. And so, when its base is secured in with a seatbelt, the car seat’s back is tilted up at an angel towards the rear of the car. This results in the infant’s head being hung forward, the only thing holding them in the seat, the straps.

Now, I know it’s been a bit since I had infants of my own, but I have gone through three newborn and five big kid car seats in my time, and I can honestly say that I have never had any of those throw the head of my infants forward. To me, that just seems counter-productive to keeping the infant safe.

So, one of the to-do things on our list today was to return said car seat, a travel system stroller and newborn car seat combo manufactured by Safety First, to the store where it was purchased. Me, being me, I called the store first to let them know we were bringing it in and why. I was transferred to a store supervising manager who, when I mentioned that the infant’s head was hanging forward, had no concern. In fact, she sounded rather disturbed that I’d be bothering her with such a “trivial” matter. Her main concern was that, although I had the receipt and all the paperwork, since I didn’t have the box, she told me she couldn’t return it.

Well…as you can imagine, that didn’t go over too well with me. So I reiterated that the reason we were returning the item was that it was unsafe. By the end of our conversation, the woman had only agreed that they would exchange it for another.

Yeah, fat chance we were going that route again!

A short time later, we arrived at the store and went to the return counter where I explained to the sales girl why we were returning the item. She told us that she completely understood. That her newborn’s car seat had done the same thing, and she had retuned it as a result!

Okay, so it’s not just me thinking this is unsafe.

Anyhow, the woman overrode her boss’ instructions to only give me credit for another one and gave me a full refund, which we took to another store where we purchased an actual safe Travel System Newborn Car Seat and Stroller by another manufacturer.

Yeah! Baby Makaila will now be safe while driving around in the car!

A little background here. My husband and I are big on car seat safety. When our oldest son was eight months old and my girlfriend’s daughter was nine months old, we were all in a terrible car accident. The car seats, both identical top-of-the-line in safety standards, did their job. Although they were destroyed in the accident, both babies came away from the experience without injuries! That incident convinced me to never skimp on car seat safety. And when I saw Makaila’s original car seat allowing her head to hang forward, I just couldn’t stand by and let her be put at risk.

What person could?

My hope is that by writing this blog, I can generate awareness for parents to avoid purchasing the Newborn Car Seat and Stroller Travel Combo System, manufactured by Safety First. I’m so grateful that I was present to see that there was a problem with the car seat. I wonder how many new parents, assuming that the manufacturer would produce a product that would keep infants safe, have unknowingly put their infants at possible risk with this item.

When I return to California, I will follow this up with the manufacturer by means of a letter, including this attached photo of Makaila with her neck thrown forward. Hopefully, the executives at Safety First will act responsibly and modify their car seat design to ensure the safety of those infants riding in them.