Category: The Freaks

Happy Birthday To You

- Groovy Mom 2 Comments

First it was my daughter who turned sweet 16 two years ago. Today it was my second child, the oldest boy. He was bummed because he had a wrestling tournament today, and was hoping to spend time with friends instead. But he got up at 6am and took the bus to the tournament. We drove out a few hours later (about 40 minutes away) and watched the majority of his matches. I brought cupcakes for his team. He’s not big on celebrating, and really didn’t want to stray from that path today. A few years in a row now we’ve gone to his favorite restaurant, but it closed down this past year. He was never big on parties and isn’t one for being the center of attention.

When he got home, we went to the wireless store and picked him out a new phone (his old one was so crappy, and that’s all he wanted was a new phone – well and an iPod Touch, but, you know, money we are not made of). I used my “new every two” upgrade, but transferred the phone to him. Unfortunately the phone wasn’t in stock and we had to order it to be shipped to our house. The sale took a while, which frustrated him because he wanted to get going. He humored us with dinner – the whole family, which was nice; they brought out a sundae and did some clappy-clappy sing-song for him. Thrilled, you can imagine.

Then he went to hang out with his friends. Our daughter, we dropped at her friend’s house, him at his friend’s house, and the rest of us drove home, stopping to see the Christmas lights (on display each year in one of the city parks).

Parenting, raising children, is a strange process. When they were all young (oldest 11, youngest 3) it seemed like we would be there forever. It was stressful and exhausting, but wonderful at the same time. Having teenaged kids was just unfathomable. And here we are, our oldest 18, youngest 10). Moving out, driving, having relationships, employment issues… some of it is almost a flashback to my own youth, being 15, turning 16, meeting my future spouse, having kids, marrying. I look at parents of young children and wonder how I was them a blink ago, and here I am now. But then, really I’m just the same little girl in the blue dress and cap, 30 years later playing house and looking around in awe.

But now I’m talking about me. Wasn’t I just talking about birthdays?

Long, Normal Day

- Groovy Mom Leave a comment

Unfortunately, I gave inaccurate information yesterday. I am not, indeed, going to post pictures of my breakfast-making fiasco from the Snow Day. Not that it is impossible, it just expends more energy than I’m willing to spare tonight.

Today was a long, busy but very normal day.

6:20am, alarm wakes me up. I roll over and ask Frank to re-wake me at 7:15

Wake. Reluctantly. Take pill; heat up flat iron.

Prepare coffee maker by grinding coffee, putting in the basket, adding the water – waited to turn it on until I was nearly done with my hair.

Send the kids off on the bus, turned on the coffee, dressed, put some toast in the oven, made a lunch (leftover salad, 2 pieces of hard salami, a small bag of tort-illa chips. Mmm. Sobe low-calorie drink. Quick coffee, peanut butter and honey toast, put make-up on and check email.

Frank drove me to work, was late (traffic and post office stop). Put in a productive day. Frank picks me up from work, to home I go, he drops me off while he runs to Subway to get a sub for Dante, who is wrestling tonight. I prepare some papers for meeting at school at 2pm.

To meeting I go, lasts over an hour. Drop off sub at mom’s house (who lives closer to school and will run it over to Dante once school is out so he has something to eat between the bus ride and his match).

4pm, finally home, quick bite to eat, putting a fire under the twins to get moving since one of them has their first soccer practice at 4:45pm (the one who broke his leg after getting hit by a car back in April, mind you – hallelujah).

Drop off Franny, take Sal to 2 stores to look at shoes. Didn’t buy shoes, but did pick up a boot warmer.

6pm Pick up Franny, hear all about the excitement of being at practice. Stop at mom’s, pick up Lootie (who went there after school), and Sophia (who lives with mom and dad); stop at Taco Bell. Pick up extra burrito and taco for later for the hungry wrestler.

Drop Sophia off at friend’s house.

7pm home.

Eat, homework, catch up on email. Wipe down the dresser mom and dad brought over for his room (we recently took out the carpet, put in new floor, he painted, etc.) Get a text from Dante. Lost his match 6 to 5, but did well. On the bus home.

pm Pick him up, stop off at Wal-mart, arrive home at 10:30. Chat with husband on the phone (he’s working overtime tonight), send off a couple text to my birthmother. Sit down to write this post.

Glass of wine? A little Wii fit? TV? Who knows. Read a bit.

Goodnight.

Grilling Adventure

- Groovy Mom 5 Comments

I totally meant to expand on my Wordless post from yesterday, but then life and work got in the way. Well. I shouldn’t say they got in the way, like it IS life. Busy is life. This morning I got up, wasted as much time as I could trying to talk myself out of going to work out at the “Y” and finally succumbing to what I already knew: I wasn’t talking myself out of it.

Made it, did it (treadmill and bike), sweat like a pig in heat, took a shower, got my work clothes on and zoomed off to work. Did everything that needed to be done (bulletin done on a Thursday – what?!). Home. Took oldest boy freak to driver’s ED. Home. No clue what I did, then. Picked oldest boy freak up, took him to his friend’s for the night,  dropped the other freaks at “Y” for a bit, picked up Frank, got in a car accident (nobody hurt, not my fault, another entry will explain), picked up kids, got ice cream, went to Walmart. Home.

And now I write a Tell Me Thursday about my Wordless Wednesday, because, I’m just on top of things like that.

So it was just an impromptu grilling adventure. Nothing to do, but wanting – NEEDING – family time. Packed up what we had and set off to have an impromptu picnic with our grill. The main course was turkey burgers, but we also had a bagful of corn. The goal was to find a park with a permanent grill where we could cook the corn, and then we’d make the burgers on our smaller portable grill.

The boys grumbled for the first portion of our “adventure” as we drove around like blind mice looking for a permanent-grill-rendering-park. Finally I turned on the GPS, much to Frank’s disgust (he’s anti-GPS). He remembered a little park tucked away and we plugged it in. By this time, it was pretty much going to be the tucked away park or nothing, and if they didn’t have a permanent grill, we’d trash the corn.

One baseball diamond, a whole bunch of grass, long driveway, a shelter, park, horseshoes (for crimminy sake) – it was just too perfect. Oh, and – a standalone grill. Oh, and a bathroom. With soap pumps. We hadn’t been to the park in years. I was so glad we revisited it. We basically owned the park for the duration of our visit. It was great.

Frank grilled, I watched the boys beat each other up. Dinner was served, and everyone enjoyed the family time despite being initially bent on trying NOT to enjoy it and label it a completely fruity idea.

THE CORN: We put it on the grill, in the husk, over ready coals for about 30 minutes or so. I don’t mind a few darker parts. It adds to the flavor. Seriously, I could have just eaten the corn it was that good.

The boys played, ran, kicked balls, kicked each other, ate, laughed. The food was super simple and fantastically delicious. It was nice to just be alone, as a family, encapsulating some time for us together, even if only for a few hours. A mini-vacation here and there among the regularity of the days, weeks and months, doesn’t always have to be jetting off to another country or even visiting another state (a luxury that right now, we simply can’t afford). An impromptu picnic in the park does just fine.

Breakfast With Daughter

- Groovy Mom 6 Comments

Sophia (who will be 18 next month) called me the other day and asked if I’d like to come over and have breakfast with her. She’s staying with my parents right now (with the hopes of acquiring a JOB and moving into her own apartment), gaining her “independence” and sparing her brothers some of her teenage angst. The first week was… questionable. She spent most of her time there avoiding all responsibility and hanging out with friends. This second week, though, has gone better. She’s applied for some jobs, went to youth group, and is working on being more responsible. Baby steps.Very tiny, wobbly, and sometimes messy baby steps.

It was a nice shift to have her be making me breakfast. I thought for sure there was some catch. Come for breakfast… andtakemeshopping or Come for breakfast… and borrow me some money or Come for breakfast… and — wait, money, shopping… what else is there?

No catch though, and I checked myself for assuming there would be. Skeptical mom. She simply wanted to make me breakfast.

I’m generally a picky breakfast eater. I don’t like too many carbs (at least not “bad” white ones), and if I do allow myself a treat (generally waffles), I bang up on the protien and fiber.

White bread, Honeybun, eggs with bacon and cheese, yogurt with blueberries and strawberries and coffee.

I was hesitant to even touch the “white death” bread or honeybun because of my carb/breakfast issue. Do it for the kids, I told myself. Do it for Johnny!!

And I did. And… it was good. Not the honeybun, gosh those things are like eating sugar-speckled chemically processed carpet fibers in the shape of a doughnut. But the eggs? Yummy. Toast — everyone can benefit from some nutritionally-void buttered white bread now and then. Coffee, good (surely made by my mother or father before they left), but whatever.

Conversation was nice, the food was good. Finally. Finally a respite between the head-butting that has become so common over the past few years. Just as it was years ago, watching her take baby steps, make friends at the park or accomplish other rights-of-passage as a baby/toddler/pre-teen, it is also satisfying and gratifying to see her making those same steps into adulthood.

Now if I could just get a picture of her that doesn’t look like it fell off of Myspace.

Weekend Wrap-up

- Groovy Mom 8 Comments

Weekend Wrap-up

Busy weekend at the Groovy-Mom household. Friday night was a social night, hanging out with friends. Saturday Sal had a soccer game. They won; don’t remember the score. Sal, the self-proclaimed World Class Goalie, played in goal for the first half, and then on the field the second. The team ran over to Franny before the start, at half-time and after the game to rub his head for good luck. It was very cute. (Franny tells me I need to get a new word because I say everything is cute. Cutecutecute!!! — Happy now?)

Carlito had a game to referee at the same time as Sal’s, but my dad took him to it since Frank was working and I can’t be in two places at the same time. Dante had a game later that day, too. They won 8-0. Dante plays on a team with a crew of very talented players that are a lot of fun to watch. Some games are very intense, but the Saturday’s was not (see the score), so the boys had some fun. At one point Dante, a mid-fielder, went for the ball over-zelously (not needing to) and he slid out of bounds, into the spectator section. His friend called from the other side of the field, “Dante, don’t you hurt my mom!!”

Saturday night we ordered pizza and watched the Fifa Qualifier between USA and Honduras. Go USA.

Sunday we went to Dante’s game, another 7-0 win. After the game we hit McDonalds, just me and the boys. I had a $20 limit, so we ordered cheap and split fries. Carlito treated us to brownie melts for dessert with some of his referee earnings. Dante and Franny split a brownie, and Sal and I split one. Carlito took a bite of ours, but didn’t buy one for himself. They were pretty well behaved, save for Dante distracting Carlito so that he could quickly fly in and pull his shorts down. He pantsed Lootie coming in, and he got him at the door before we left. Franny exploded in giggles both times.

We met Frank at home and decided to take advantage of a beautiful day by heading to the park for a while. Dante was reluctant, concerned that he’d miss the Uriah Faber/Mike Brown UFC fight. Boys. Frank assured him we would not. Frank brought his poles along and the boys brought a soccer ball. Can’t leave home without a soccer ball. Things have changed a bit, with Franny’s injury. He was the one who would usually instigate a game or activity, since he was always a bundle of energy. I’m thankful for his recovery, even though it is slow, but sometimes am caught off guard and get a bit choked up.

Sal, making some casts. OK, tecnically Frank did the casting, the boys reeled in.

Franny.

On our walk over to the park, we encountered some geese. As we approached I heard what sounded like a cat hissing. It took me a bit before I realized the hissing noise was coming from the goose in our path. What the..? I’ve never encountered a hissing goose before. My eyes and brain needed to make a visual connection to believe it. Mouth open, heeee-heeeesss — yup, it’s the crazy goose!! Freaked me out. As I attempted to snap a picture of the hissing goose, a mother and her children hurredly passed by. “Watch out, kids, they are MEAN. They’ll nip you.” Killer geese.

They boys started messing around with the soccer ball and Franny stood off in the distance, leaning on his crutches watching. I thought we could go to the park nearby to keep his mind off of the things he couldn’t do (like soccer). “Franny, wanna go try the swing?” We made the journey over and sat on the bench for a while, resting his leg and waiting our turn. Franny removed his shoes, and watched as a father pushed his daughter on the tire swing. When they left, we hurried over.

I pushed him cautiously at first, fearful that his cast would hit the ground or that the tire itself would fly off with him riding right on it. Crazy, I know. But as much as Franny is still recovering from being hit (crossing roads are cheap therapy right now), I’m recovering from the blow as well. I am an anxious, freakazoid worrier by nature — the broken leg isn’t helping. I checked my visions of disaster and focused on the cheek-cracking grin splayed across his face.

After the festival of swinging, we parked it at a table and watched the big boys spout testosterone. Franny took the camera and tried to get a shot of me “not noticing” him with the camera. I was forced to feign ignorance of the camera in his hands. My… look at that pretty grass… is that a camera?

Yeah, me and my sexy Fitovers. They aren’t the most attractive sunglasses, but they are convenient and they do the job.

Time to make the trek back. Sal cools off at the water fountain.

Frank.

My menfolk.

(Don’t ask me why Lootie is saluting.)

On the way home, Frank just had to make a couple casts. No, he’s not drunk. Looks are decieving.

Line-killer.

We made it home in time to make chicken tacos and watch hours of cage fighting. I need to get another girl in this house.

(What did YOU do this weekend? Leave me a link!!)

Newbie Soccer Referee

- Groovy Mom 5 Comments

Carlito started refereeing this year. He’s been wanting to be a referee about half as long as he’s been walking this great green earth, waiting to turn 12 —  eligible to take the class and exam. One year for Christmas we purchased him a full referee kit, complete with yellow shirt, black socks, whistle, cards and shorts.

He loved it.

He likes order. He likes rules. Why yes, he would like to be a police officer. Above all, though, he likes money. The way it smells and the buying power that comes with it. He hasn’t earned the nickname “Crabs” for nothing.

We weren’t sure how the whole “class and exam” thing would pan out earlier this year when we enrolled Lootie. It is a $70 fee for class and licensing. We made it his birthday present. You go for like 4 or 6 hours, two weekends in a row. Maybe it was 8 hours? At any rate, Frank and I were both nervous. Lootie’s got some learning issues that make it difficult for him in school, so our fears were slightly increased as to how the exam would pan out in the end. Dante did the class a few years back and did fine, so we were hopeful but still incredibly nervous, using our sarcasm (in private conversations) to work out our jitters.

All the worry was worth it (haven’t let go of the sarcasm). He passed the first weekend with a 98%. The second weekend was the same. Oh the pride and satisfaction on that kid’s face when he got his patch was worth the seventy bucks.

Before he was even assigned a game, he plotted out his evil plan to rule the world —  I mean to purchase an Xbox 360. (Long ago I told the kids I would not purchase any more video anything — they’d have to do it.) Boy, can you motivate that kid with the fresh — or dirty — scent of green.

He’d yabber about it constantly, how he was going to buy it, who would need to pitch in (not only does he enjoy his own money, but he enjoys capturing his younger brother’s money — Franny’s not game to his ploy, but his game-nerd brother Sal sure is).

Lootie almost blew apart – literally, spontaneous combustion – when his first ref game was canceled due to lightening. He would have rather risked being fried to a crisp if it meant he’d have 15 hot bucks in his hand.

As the season continued, he get a few games in, but his big money-maker was to referee a recreational tournament that would push him over the Xbox edge. Who knew his appendix would decide to rot to pieces and burst two days prior? Is it OK for the referee to run the field with one hand on the IV bag and the other on a whistle?

Lootie and Sal the resident “game nerds” of the family (not a mom-given title, but accurate none the less) put their money together and purchased their Xbox. Lootie, no joke, treats it like a newborn. Exasperated– Please, please, don’t leave the games out like this. Oh look at this!! Doesn’t anyone know how to treat something with respect around here? Don’t do that… Cord goes like this just so, not the way YOU guys did it. Running up the stairs after school, first glance at the Xbox – Franny, did you play it? Did you? Oh my GOSH. Look at that? See. Nobody takes care of things… (obsessively checks cords, power supply, game locations).

He’s a special kid.

Yesterday he had another game to officiate. As we pulled up he begrudgingly left the car. They’re all GIRLS (grumble, grumble). I think it was for show. He had to check his eagerness at the door.  Inspects the field, checks in with coaches… then gets to business, asking for his money. One coach gave it up easy; the other one Lootie had to stalk, and stalk he did, for the remainder of warm-up time.

refalicious

Yeah yeah. Great picture, I know.

It was a cute game to watch. Little squealers chasing the ball. Loo did fantastic with his whistle and commands, taking charge in a manner conducive to his personality. I think he fondled the money in his pocket multiple times during the game. Once he was hit with the ball and he smiled, casual and relaxed, continuing seamlessly. Another he slipped, fell and went on without apparent embarrassment. A spunky player gave a girlie scream (for no reason) and he looked at her as one would at a younger sister – with disgust and affection. He really has a knack for refereeing.

Game over, he came to the van and glanced out the window, back at the field. “That was fun. I liked that. They were fun.” And then he carassed his money.

Wedging A Cast On A Broken Leg

- Groovy Mom 12 Comments

I had some other posts sitting in queue, but thought I might write about our cast wedging experience instead. Oh the joy.

Franny was about 6-weeks (give a few days) post from breaking his leg. At week 5 he had the external fixator removed and a cast put on. 10-days later he was to come in for a recheck. He used his crutches to walk up to the clinic for the first time. I brought the wheelchair, for back-up, though. X-rays were first, and then the lengthy stay in the exam room. The nurse left the x-rays up for us to look at.

We stared at them for a bit (there were 2), and waited. Someone was getting a procedure across the hall and we’d glance over every now and then. I decided to snap a picture to send to Frank, who was at home with Lootie and the home-health nurse. I felt a glare from one of the attendees across the way, but it is MY kid’s leg, so what do they care? The real-life x-ray  is better, but you can see the 2 breaks (tibia and fibula) here, as well as the 4 holes from the fixator.

The Nurse Practitioner (or maybe it is RN) came in first and looked at the x-rays. She said you could see some good healing going on. She said his Orthopedic Surgeon would be in too look as well and we could ask questions (Franny always has a bunch) then.

He came in, with a “shadow” (training student), looked at the x-rays and started talking about a wedge; said everything looked good. Fibula looked pretty misaligned to me, but the side x-ray showed better alignment (assured the doctor). And they aren’t as picky about the fibula. It is the tibia that they are really concerned about (said doctor), and that one looked like it had shifty slightly. He said some doctors might leave it, but he’d like to have it pushed back. I could hear Franny’s small voice asking if he could weight-bear yet. Then I heard the doctor talk to the nurse. Then I heard Franny ask a bit louder. Doctor said, “Not yet buddy.” And we were rushed across the hall to trade rooms with the prior person in the procedure room.

We were given heavy vests to cover our body (Franny’s flimsily covered his scrotum and if I have grandkids with tenticles, we’ll know why). Franny asked about what they were doing, and they were so busy doing what they were doing, they didn’t answer. I asked them as well, and they said they were going to cut the cast and put a wedge in to place the bone a bit better. They twisted his leg this way and that to get visuals on the live xray; Franny was uncomfortable. “Is it going to hurt?” He asked a few times before getting an answer. They told him it might sting a little. He became more nervous. They used the saw to cut the cast (which he was assured wouldn’t hurt) and at the end he sucked a hard breath and started crying. “It stings really bad!!” They said it shouldn’t of, which he assured them that by golly it did, and then agreed that maybe it might have, since his bone was still broken there. The vibrations might have been uncomforable. I awaited gushing blood to spurt out, but it didn’t happen.

Note to nurse: obviously if he’s SAYING it hurts and he’s crying — it HURTS.

They cut a semi-circle in the back of his cast and shoved a plastic wedge in there to push the bone to a better position. Took a picture, showed the doctor, and were told to place a bigger wedge. The did, and then told Franny, who was crying, “All done buddy!!!” and that he did better than most adults. I asked if it would be sore later. They said maybe, and Tylenol would help.

We left. Needless to say, Franny did NOT crutch it out, but opted for the wheelchair.

Within a half-hour he was sobbing like he’s never sobbed before during all of this. He said it stung and his heel hurt. This is a kid that’s taken NO pain meds so far. Not after surgery the first time, not during stitches removal (which was done by the same nurse who helped with the wedge, and she’s no tender Wendy), not after his rods were taken out. And now he was sobbing as if he had his leg broken all over again. Which, I guess, he sort of did. Less the adrenaline and shock that comes with the trauma experience. He was relaxed and unready to have his healing bone pushed around as it was.

I called the clinic. I had no idea if this sort of pain was normal or abnormal. He’s got a high tolerance for pain, so it seemed very abnormal to me. I would think it to be normal, considering all that went down, but they’d said NOTHING about it being this painful. I conveyed my… exasperation to the nurse. We ended up giving him Oxycontin for about 48 hours, coupled with Tylenol (had the Oxycontin leftover from the hospital discharge – never touched it). It helped tremendously.

Today, four days later, he is doing much better. Thankfully. Though I still feel we went into the situation quite uninformed (and still feel rather uniformed about the progress of everything). I don’t know what the experience is for others who have had a wedge, but I’d say to make sure you have some good painkillers on hand, just in case your experience pain that warrants the use of them.