What Package?

I heard the rumble of the truck and immediately tensed up.

Oh no. Not now. Please not now…

I peeked out the window and there it was, sitting at the end of my driveway.

Oh no…why did it have to come when my husband was home for lunch? Why?

“Tom! I’m going outside. I need to…check my car. There’s a bird on it!” I yelled and grabbed my jacket. I darted outside before Tom had a chance to argue. I imagine that he looked up with a start as he ate his lunch and was probably thinking, “Huh? Amber isn’t anal about birds on her vehicle like I am…” See, if Tom sees birds hovering around his truck, he rushes outside with a broom and shouts, “Shoo! Shoo! You won’t be pooping on MY truck, you assholes!” I know. I sometimes think Tom loves his truck too much too.

The UPS guy was sliding out of his truck with my Gymboree package in his hands. He was looking down at an electrical device and was probably typing in that my package was delivered. This was why he didn’t realize that a housewife was rushing at him at top speed, clad in sweats, a mismatched t-shirt, slippers on her feet and hair that was sticking up all over on the top of her head.

“Sir! Excuse me! Sir! I can take that!” I said, gasping for breath. I definitely am out of shape if I only run a few feet and I’m out of breath. I held my arms out for the box and the guy looked up at me in surprise, taking me in. I think he was wondering if I was the actual occupant of the house and not some crazed neighbor out to steal everyone’s stuff.

“I’m Amber,” I tried again. I even tapped my chest as though I were an ape. “That’s my box.” I nodded towards the package where it had my name listed.

He blinked at me for a few seconds before reluctantly handing it over. I think he wanted to get away from me.

“Thank you!” I said brightly.

He just backed up and quickly scuttled back into his truck. I think I scared him. It’s not everyday that he’s rushed by a crazed housewife after all.

The reason why I had to grab the package before Tom saw was because I had just made a passionate speech a few days before saying that I wouldn’t buy anymore clothes for the children if Tom could go a week without eating out. See, Tom loves to eat out and he buys food when he’s at work even though we have stuff to eat at home. Of course I don’t mind eating out a couple times per week—but Tom seems to love eating out all the time. When I checked out bank account I balked when I saw the amount that Tom had been spending.

And Tom said, “Well hey, it’s about the same as what you spend on the kids when you add it all up…”

So I said, “Then I won’t buy clothes for the kids anymore! Not for an entire month!” And I slammed my first into my palm so he could see I was serious.

But then I forgot that it was Gymbuck Redemption. Big oops. And Gymbuck Redemption means that you only pay for half of what you buy. So I couldn’t exactly NOT shop it, you know? That’s probably like, illegal or something.

So I ordered some clothes.

And I thought the package would be delivered while Tom was at work so he’d never know.

He barely ever checks our bank account.

He doesn’t know how much stuff the kids truly have.

So he’d never ever know that I had gone back on my word.

At least, this is what I thought.

Until the UPS truck pulled up in front of my house when Tom was home for lunch.

My plan was to hide the package. I could run it around and set it against the back door. Then when Tom wasn’t paying attention, I could retrieve it.

Simple, yes?

I was all set to walk into the backyard when Tom CAME OUTSIDE.

EEEEK!

I hurled the box towards the pine tree. See, I was hoping the trunk would hide it. But I can’t throw so the box just bounced off the branches and clunked to the ground. Tom would surely see it! Oh no!

I ran over to Tom and threw my arms around him.

“I just love you so so much!” I said into his shoulder. I was hoping to distract him so he wouldn’t look over to his left. He’d surely spot the box then.

“Um. I love you too? What’s going on?” Tom was instantly suspicious.

“Nothing? Nothing is going on!” I assured him, trying to lead him back inside the house.

“Is your car okay? Why are you acting weird?” Tom demanded, refusing to budge. He craned his neck to check out my car.

Why is he going on about my car? Oh. Right. I said I was chasing away birds..

“I thought I heard the UPS truck,” Tom said, watching as the truck rumbled away.

I shook my head. “Nope. The neighbors got something. Silly neighbors, shopping all the time,” I said, dragging him back inside. I was worried about my package. What if someone took it? What if it started to rain and the clothes inside got ruined? I had to go save it. As Tom wandered into the kitchen to get a soda, I shouted, “Those stupid birds are back!” Then I darted back outside. I ran over to my box and scooped it up. Then I started racing into the direction of the backyard when…

“Amber? What’s going on?”

Shit!

Can’t Tom just piss off?

“And the next time you come back, it won’t be pretty!” I shrieked to the sky, pretending that I was arguing with the birds that didn’t really exist. I stuck the box up my jacket and hoped that Tom wouldn’t notice. It was at the moment when my neighbor stepped outside. He did a double take when he saw me shouting at the sky with a box shoved up my jacket.

“You’re acting really weird,” Tom observed with a frown.

I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to shield the square of the box. It worked at first. Until Tom peered closer and went, “What are you hiding?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not hiding a thing. What? Are you calling me…fat?” I puffed out my lower lip and tried to jog into the house. But Tom pulled my arm and tapped the box.

And then his face lit up because he knew what I had done.

“You went shopping, didn’t you?” He wasn’t upset. He looked downright pleased. He could probably taste the Big Mac that he would surely buy for lunch tomorrow.

I shook my head sharply. “Of course not. This is my Spanx,” I fibbed. I tried to walk away again but Tom refused to let me go.

“Your Spanx? Amber, I’ve known you for ten years. I can tell when you’re lying to me,” Tom said.

I sighed and pulled the box out. “So I went shopping. But I had to! It was Gymbuck Redemption! Would you have had me not use them and let them go to waste?”

Tom grinned. “Oh not at all. I just find it amusing that you went shopping after you told me that you weren’t going to buy clothes for the kids all month long.” He even slapped his fist to his palm like I had done during my passionate speech. He was totally mocking me.

“And do you want to know something ironic?” Tom continued as we stepped inside. “If you hadn’t insisted that I came home to eat lunch, I would have never known about this package…”

Oh. Crap.

He was right.

Pictures of what I bought will come sometime this week. I asked Natalie if she wanted to try on her new things today and she went, “No thanks,” and then shut her bedroom door on me.

Maybe I can take some pictures tomorrow.

Or...when I promise that she can watch Yo Gabba Gabba if she tries on some clothes. I just have to prepare myself for the show because it’s so utterly frightening.

Our House

On the outside it was just an ordinary house. It had four walls, windows with jalosies, a roof and two doors.Inside it was so much more than just an ordinary house.
It was a refuge from any sotrm, protection from all the world's evils,
a comfort, and a haven for rest.
This house was our house.
The place I grew up in, fell down in , loved in and was loved in.
My parents had big dreams when they bought this house in 1959.
They planned to raise their two small children with Christian values and neighbors.
Yet, this was not meant to be.
In 1963 the family was abbreviated and then there were only three.
The house was an empty place now.
While the people inside mended, God took care of this smaller family.
Within the house a healing took place.
This house was full of love; shown by my parents.
The house was full of God; taught by my parents.
The house was the kind of plae where a child could grow up,
make mistakes, and still feel loved.
The house is gone now, gone to dust.
Time marched on and the little house was unable to keep up.
The tools of today erased all of my yesterdays...
I learned a valuable lesson with the disappearance of the house.
A house was all that it was.
A building, brick, mortar, no more.
My HOME is wherever my parents are.
They are the lessons that I learned as a child.
They are the love that I have felt throughout my lifetime.
It is said that home is where your heart is,
and there was always a heart in my home.
My parents are God-fearing, God-loving, hard-working, family-oriented people
and this kind of person is hard to find today.
My father still loves my mother and she still loves him and I....
I love them both. For all the things they have taught me....
even when I did not want to learn.

Respite Units - Terminology I Wish I Did Not Have To Know

For most people and that includes me, Karen, daughter of Fred and Wilma, the thought of dying or caring for a terminally ill friend or family member has raised numerous fears and questions as old as humanity: I have asked myself what is a “good death”? What appropriate preparations should be made? How do I best support my dad as his life draws to its close? Yesterday, the Home Health nurse called me at school and told me that they could not do any more for my father and that they were referring him to Hospice again. The Hospice nurse, Ginger, who is a love, called me shortly after that and scheduled a meeting for this morning at 9:00. I arrived at the Meadows at 8:45 and found my mom sitting beside my dad, who was in the bed asleep, she was holding his hand. She looked up and told me he was so sick, had not eaten, and was so tired. I took her place beside him and held his hand while she went to return his breakfast plate, untouched, back to the kitchen. The two aids came and asked us to leave while they fed him an Ensure, changed, and prepared him for the day. Mom and I went to the TV room and waited. Ginger arrived a few minutes before 9 and went back to the room to see what was going on. Mom and I went to the Sun Room and talked a bit about stuff...why they could not come home, why her car was not fixed, what was wrong with daddy...on and on she droned. I told her sweetly at first that they could not come home just now because daddy needed more attention than we could give him....Hey...I have to work. I am not afforded the luxury of being a SAH caregiver. I told her the car was not fixed because she could not drive right now because of the Arecept. She balked on that one and got rather testy about her abilities to drive. She MAY be able to drive good...BUT...I can't take the chance that the alzheimers will cause her to pull another stunt like the last time...next time I may not be so lucky. I then told her that there was something wrong with daddy....did she not remember he had cancer? "Oh yes," she responded..."but it is all better now." I came back with, "No it isn't momma. He was not able to finish the chemo and the cancer is back." She was oblivious to my words and I was frustrated with her oblivion. The Hospice nurse came to the Sun Room and told me she would need to speak to me as soon as she talked to her supervisor. The aid from the Meadows said that Peggy, the manager, wanted to speak with her too...so I waited...knowing what was coming and hoping I was wrong. I was not wrong...my parents had to leave the Meadows...and could go home...with 24 hour care....which we were not able to provide this weekend. I don't know what it is about people dismissing them without some kind of warning to me. All my mom heard was that they could go home and she was off and packing all their things...and loading them into my car. While she busied herself with their things, I signed all the Hospice papers again....this time I signed a DNR (Do Not Resusitate). Do you know how hard it is to sign your name to a DNR for your father? It was tough but I did it. AT 10:30 he was moved, by ambulance, to Lakeshore Community Hospital in Dadeville, AL to a respite/palliative care unit. They are giving him morphine to keep him comfortable and if he lasts the weekend it will surprise us all. By the time we got there they had him in a bed and they were taking his vitals. There is no drip, nothing piercing his skin, just oxygen. The morphine is oral. His skin is so thin. He has several nasty lesions on his legs and back where his skin has just torn. I left my mom with him at the hospital and came home to start getting my house ready for a hospital bed and their return....possibly on Monday if we can get everything in order. This is the end of the 9 weeks at school and I HAVE to work. I am already far behind where I normally am at this time of the year. I NEED to work. My sweet friend Mary came over and we cleaned...great therapy...and almost as good as retail therapy. Her precious son, Casey, came over and hauled off an old couch, a treadmill, an old desk chair, and a rug that my dachsund has ruined by being an alpha male. The room is now very sterile looking....waiting for a hospital bed...and its new dweller. Kat and Brian went by the hospital and then came by....we ended up grabbing some supper and going back to the hospital. My dad had eaten some...they physically fed him. He slept the whole time we were there...oblivious to the fact that he had company. So now life is on a minute to minute mode. I truly do want him not to hurt anymore. I know he wants to not hurt anymore. I am a big girl...and I will survive this. Now, if only my head would tell my heart. Sigh!

Toilet Musings

How did I get here?

I was sitting in the toilet with my legs tilted at an uncomfortable angle in front of me. Actually, sitting would be the wrong word to use. I suppose “stuck” would be more appropriate. I had stumbled into the bathroom in the dead of night and hadn’t realized that my husband forgot to put the toilet seat down.

So there I was, my ass dangling precariously close to the toilet water, my legs straight up—I was not amused. And to be honest, I was a little confused. In my half asleep mind I was all, “What just happened? Is my knee supposed to be in front of my face? I don’t recall this being the way I pee.”

It hadn’t been the greatest day.

First, I had decided to try a new recipe because a person can only eat spaghetti and sloppy joes for so long. I hate cooking by the way. It makes me feel cranky and each time I’m in the kitchen, I long for a cook to do it for me. But a cook is just too expensive and thus, I’m stuck preparing the meals. I found a recipe for a whole chicken in the crock pot—which I’m in love with, by the way. The crock pot, not the chicken. Anyhow, the recipe called for rosemary, and I had no idea what it looked like. I mean, I knew what it was—a spice, yes? But where would I find it?

I started pacing up and down aisles at the grocery store for the stuff. I suppose I was looking for a gigantic sign that read: “GET YER ROSEMARY HERE!” But of course I didn’t see such a sign. I stopped in front of all the spices and just stared and stared while my two year old attempted to climb out of the cart. She gets mortally offended if you stand still too long.

“I get out, Mommy,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied distractedly. Rosemary…where is the Rosemary…wasn’t Rosemary the name of Gwenyth Paltrow’s character in that Jack Black movie?

My eyes scanned the various spices. Where was the rosemary? And what does tarragon taste like?

“Bye Mommy,” Natalie called out.

“Bye,” I answered. WHERE WAS THE ROSEMARY??! And shit, there goes my two year old! I scooped up Natalie right when she was about to turn the corner.

“MOMMY! I WALK!” Natalie screeched, trying to kick her way free.

“You can’t. You have to say by me. I have to find the rosemary!” I explained frantically. Thankfully a woman overheard me.

“Are you looking for the rosemary? It’s right here.” She handed over a bottle of green pellets.

I thanked her and gawked at the bottle. “It looks like pine needles,” I blurted out and she laughed.

“I assure you, it doesn’t taste as such,” she told me.

I hope not.

Then I came home and it smelled like a giant cat box because apparently I’m the only one who remembers to change the cat litter. It’s just not fair. Why do I get to deal with all the feces in this house? I mean, okay, I don’t deal with TOM’S FECES—or maybe I do, because when he’s finished making a number two, I find I have to spray a bunch of freshener so our home doesn’t smell like the bog of eternal stench.

Later, as I was cooking dinner, Tommy was practicing his spelling words for the week. I could hear him out in the living room:

“Okay, which is spelled W-H-I—”

“T!” Natalie cut in cheerfully.

“No Natalie! There is no T!” Tommy yelled impatiently. “W-H-I-C—”

“T!” Natalie said again.

“THERE IS NO T! Mommy, I’m not feeling very pleasant right now,” Tommy fumed, stomping into the kitchen.

Pleasant is his latest word. He uses it all the time. For instance, having cereal in the morning is pleasant but stubbing a toe is not. He feels pleasant when he’s taking a bath but he doesn’t find it pleasant when he has to do a bunch of homework. It’s pleasant this and pleasant that. Pleasant, pleasant, pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” I said, stirring the vegetables that were starting to burn. How does a person burn vegetables? Well, I might have started to flip through the latest US Weekly (Jessica Simpson’s dog was eaten by a coyote—some deep stuff in there..) and I totally forgot I was cooking.

“I want to feel pleasant but I can’t because of Natalie,” Tommy whined.

“Natalie! Stop bugging your brother!” I shouted.

“Okay Mommy,” she replied, lying through her baby teeth.

When we settled down around the table, Natalie sniffed her plate, picked up one pea between her thumb and forefinger, stared at it for a few seconds, popped it in her mouth, rolled it around her tongue, swallowed and went, “All done!”

All done?

“Darling, you have to take a few more bites,” I said gently. You have to speak to her softly about food, otherwise she gets offended that you’re trying to get her to eat.

“No thanks,” Natalie said, sliding off her chair.

I never know what to do in this situation. Do I let her starve? Or do I try to make her eat? All the experts say you’re never supposed to force a kid to eat because then they’ll be obese or something like that.

Oh, I forgot to mention that in between all of this, I also went to find the YMCA where Tommy’s swim lessons will be held. I knew it was downtown but I had no idea where. So I sort of traveled around, searching, and then I spotted it but didn’t know how to get to it and I nearly died when I almost turned down a one way road.

One way roads are the bane of my existence. I hate them. HATE THEM.

So by the time we parked and made our way inside to inquire about the swim lessons, I was shaking slightly and the woman behind the counter gave me a startled look because I probably was pale from fear. I mean, I’m pale to begin with but I imagine I was extra EXTRA pale at that moment.

“We nearly died!” Tommy said cheerfully.

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Oh my!”

I waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Not really. We just….man, there are a lot of one way roads downtown.”

The woman looked sympathetic. And then she told me that I couldn’t even register Tommy until October 20th for the swim lessons so Tommy went, “What? I don’t feel pleasant about this!”

So yes. It had been a long day. And now I was in stuck in the middle of the toilet that had been cleaned last week so God knows how much bacteria was now floating around on my backside. Yuck. I managed to work my way free and then I washed my hands and went back into bed—but then I realized I never got to pee, because I was attacked by the toilet—so I had to get back out of bed.

And as I sat there doing my business, I thought longingly, I need a vacation.

Or a stiff drink.

Hard to Say Goodbye

The senior song has been announced and it is kind of weird...it is a song from several years ago....a very profound one...by Boyz to Men. I think I loved this song the first time I heard it. I was sitting in my classroom and pulled the video up on you tube and when I heard the words it made me sad for a multitude of reasons. The biggest is all that is going on in my life....and the second is the fact that at the end of this year I will lose another group of kids I have grown to love. Sigh! When I get them as ninth graders I can never believe that I will survive until they are seniors and then one day....BAM! I wake up and they are picking out graduation invitations...Where did the time go? Every year I feel that same way...about different kids. I rejoice in their successes, pray for them when they are hurting, I hug them when they ask for one, I miss them when they are gone....ahhhh the life of a teacher. It really is sometimes so very hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

My Dear Letters

Dear Tom,

Do you forget who I am sometimes? Telling me stuff like, “You wouldn’t believe the turd I just dropped,” is NOT something I want to hear. Not from my husband, not from anybody. Thanks.

Signed,
Your-Please-Don’t-Talk-Poo-With-Me
Wife

--------------

Dear Neighborhood Parents,

Please stop sending your kids over to play less than five minutes after the kids have returned home from school. You see, I actually like conversing with my kid and asking about his day. Having your kid show up right away makes my kid not want to talk to me. So please. Give us at least a half hour before I have to endure your hellions—I mean, children.

Signed,
A-Mom-Who-Actually-Likes-To-Talk-To-Her-Kid,
Amber

--------------


Dear Gymboree,

Please make ugly clothes so I’m not tempted to buy. Make another animal print line. You know how much I hate animal print.

Signed,
A-Non-Animal-Print-Fan,
Amber

-------------

Dear cars that tail me when I’m going the speed limit,

I’m sorry, did you miss the big sign that said the speed limit was 40? I usually go 45 and I refuse to go any faster than that. Christmas is approaching and I’d rather not have a $100 ticket. So get off my car’s ass! It offends her.

Signed,
A-Would-You-Like-Someone-Up-Your-Butt???
Amber

--------------

Dear Natalie,

Sweets, that plastic thing with the hole in the middle is a toilet. Not an oversized hat. So please treat it like a toilet and GO in it. Not in the vent. Not on the carpet. Not in my slipper. Go in the TOILET. Are we understanding each other?

Signed,
A-Wondering-If-Her-Daughter-Will-Be-In-Diapers-Forever,
Amber

---------------

Dear Tommy,

Actually, I AM the boss of you. I don’t know why you keep saying that I’m not. I pushed your eight pound body through my crotch, therefore I am the boss.

Signed,
An-Over-Ten-Hours-In-Labor-So-I-Will-ALWAYS-Be-Boss,
Amber

--------------

Dear Thighs,

Stop expanding

Signed,
I-Want-To-Fit-Into-My-Pants,
Amber

-------------

(If my thighs could write, this is probably what they’d say:

Dear Amber,

Stop eating so many Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and we wouldn’t expand.

Signed,
Your Thighs)

--------------

Dear Tom (again),

I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that was my head that you slung your arm across at three in the morning.

Signed,
A-Wishing-For-Separate-Bedrooms,
Amber

Orchids - People in Disguise

I love orchids. I would have to say they are one of my favorite flowers. The other favorite would be Gerber daisies. Most women prefer roses...and don't get me wrong, I like roses...I just like orchids the best. There are so many kinds of them and they remind me of my childhood. My mom used to raise them and so did Susan's mom. I loved walking into our backyards as a kid and seeing them all dancing in the South Florida breeze...and yes, they do dance because the bloom is on a stalk. The orchid in my picture is one from a friends backyard. It is called a cattelya orchid. What do you know about orchids? Well as a kid I actually went to the library and researched my favorites. Dendrobium, Cattelya and Phalenopsis are my big three of favorites. What I found out about them was that "orchids belong to the most diverse family of plants known to man. There are over 880 genera, 28,000 species and well over 300,000 registered cultivars currently documented. These numbers only begin to tell the true story behind the evolutionary success of modern day orchids. Orchids are the most rapidly changing group of plants on earth and more new species have been discovered over the last few thousand years than any other plant group known. Orchids are also one of the most adaptable plant groups on earth. Some Australian orchids grow entirely underground, and many tropical jungle orchids grow in the upper branches of trees. Tundra, rainforest, mountain, grassy plain, desert and swamp environments contain numerous orchid species. Orchids produce seed pods with literally hundreds of thousands of seed that are released and scattered by the wind. Orchid seeds must establish a symbiotic relationship with a special fungus to survive its first year of life. The fungi gathers water and minerals for itself and the seedling, and the seedling shares its sugars from photosynthesis with the fungus. Only one or two orchid seeds will ever germinate and survive on that perfect crevice or depression that is both moist and has the fungus present. Even then, its chances to survive in the wild long enough to bloom are slim." So with that knowledge I came to respect the orchids that my mom and Susan's mom grew in the backyard. I discovered they are a lot like people....some of us survive where we bloom, others of us whiter away and die. Some of us die due to disease and starvation, yet...when we do bloom...we are breathtaking....no matter where we are, no matter what species, no matter what color, no matter what. Orchids are one of God's most beautiful creations...but mankind is his most perfectly beautiful....because we were made in his image. Genesis1:27 (New International Version) tells us:" So God created man in his own image,in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And sometimes when down I am down on myself and think I am not worthy, I love to pull out my orchid pictures and I smile, I smile because when I look at them I know I AM BEAUTIFUL just like this orchid. God made me that way. Have a Terrific Thursday!