Man, what a week

I just came off a marathon silver chasing session this past week that ended in a 16 hour flat out shop time ending at 5:30 am, followed by 2 hours of sleep, then a photo shoot and another 3 hours of finishing up before a rush to the post office to overnight the art work off. All week I was catching up because I had a brain cloud and couldn't come up with the last few design ideas until the deadline was nearing. I didn't have to meet the deadline but it made things easier and I like living up to the promises I make.

While all this was going on, the world still spun round, suppers needed making, noses put back into joint, and problems solved. Kit had a minor surgery last week that involved general anesthesia. He was a real brave boy right up to the moment they were going to turn on the gas. I stood beside him, garbed in a hospital gown and holding his hand while he went into a bit of a panic. I couldn't blame him, surrounded by a team of total strangers all turning on machines and strapping him up to them. He reluctantly breathed through the mask until his hand went limp as he passed out.

My turn for a moment if panic. Over the years, I've accompanied many beloved dogs to their final breath, with tears in my eyes, my hand holding a paw while the doc gave them a needle. Seconds later a long time friend went limp in my arms and left this Earth forever. For a split second as Kit's arm dropped, my mind flashed to euthanizing dogs and I felt a moment of such loss that I could hardly bear it. Reason returned and I knew he was in good hands and would be back with us in a couple of hours. I left the operating theatre and sat down with Buddy in the waiting room. It was a very long 2 hours but it all ended well.

My plan to spend so much more time on writing hasn't panned out so far the way I had hoped. Like cleaning out the garage and finding itcompletely refilled within weeks, the space I made in in my schedule cluttered right back up with a ton of junk. But I have to finish this book before I move on to another project. I've invested too much time and sweat and soul to set it aside again.

Tio had some behavioral problems again last week which limited his freedom yet another time. Sometimes I'm not convinced he understands much of what's going on around him and other times, he seems so lucid. I think it's best right now that we let things ride until the kid figures them out for himself.

Well, it's hotter thane Satan's speed dial list, twice as humid, and we have no air conditioning. I think I'll slip down to the library or the pub or McCoffee's for a couple of hours writing.

Stay Tuned...

Training a 33 year old to be on time

Here I am at McGreasy's again with the kids running around. Tio isn't here and the younger 2 are a better age for the play area. We went to a flute and piano recital this afternoon where the flutist was playing a flute I made, in fact The Wind Horse Lunn flute that I blogged about last month. I haven't heard one of my own instruments in concert in 10 years so it was a real pleasure. There are a couple of local people who play my flutes but mostly they are spread far and wide around the world. So I stuffed the kids into clean shirts and everyone behaved well through the whole thing, even Doc. (Although he did try to plug his ears at one point.) Which is why I'm at McPlaypen's: a reward for sitting tbrough a classical recital.

The new challenge this week was starting to train Buddy for a new job.
More and more Tish is finding it harder to deal with the boys living here. It's a lot and she'd like as much of her world back as she can have. For the last year and a half she's been getting the boys off the school (and now summer camp) and their routine is pretty good. It's time that Buddy stepped in and got his own kids up in the morning. I told him he needs to do it for Tish, if for no other reason, because she needs the break.

Some readers may recall a few weeks ago I talked about observing Buddy and how he deals with change in his life (not too well) [In: there's always something to learn about your grown children. Knowing that I need to introduce it slowly, I suggested the idea to him that he get them ready for camp 2 days a week and work up to getting up every day when school starts. That way, both he and the boys have time to get used to it.

On Wednesday, I tossed it to him as gently as a predressed garden salad. I wrote a list of who needed what, got their drinks prepared the night before and set the timing so he'd have penty of leeway to get everyone out the door and to their camps . All went well. Tish brought her morning coffee back to bed to avoid it altogether, the boys cooperated, and Buddy managed to be out the door by ten past.

On Friday, not so much. He got them up later, didn't have a list (although the Wednesday one would have done fine) took over the bathroom for 10 of the only 20 minutes they had and then got cranky because they weren't magically prepared when he was suddenly ready. Tish had to intervene a number of times to keep the peace and get the boys dressed. Tio nearly missed the bus to his field trip and the younger boys missed camp breakfast.

Buddy is chronicly late, it's his passive aggressive signature. I've been dealing with his excuses for being late for 20 years and it isn't going to happen this time. When he got home I chewed him a new one and told him the boys better be on time next week - no excuses. He got defensive and started making excuses but I stuck to it. "You have no excuses. I don't care what it it takes to get out the door on time or early, but figure it out and get it done. You owe this to your mother."

He stormed off and a couple of hours later apologized for screwing it up. Next Wednesday and Friday we'll see if we can do better and create a routine that he can assimilate into his life so that by the time school starts in September it'll be part of normal.

Sausage stuffed Froohah just like mother used to make.

I made pierogies and cabbage last Tuesday for supper. I was chopping up the cabbage and really didn't want the litany of "I don't like this!" and "Do I have to eat cabbage?" so I dressed it in butter, a bit of cheese, and nutmeg and called it "froohah", an exotic hawaiian veg that I hadn't seen at the store in years. "Froohah is quite expensive," I said, "so I hope you enjoy the treat." They were curious, skeptical and ate it up without complaint. Two days later I made spicy sausage stuffed froohah with the remainder of the head. "This is cabbage, isn't it?" Tio, Sherlock that he is, surmised. I confessed that it was and we all laughed at my joke and ate it, although a lot more reluctantly. Doc even asked for seconds of the Hoohoo, but only because he liked the stuffing.

While eating our Hoohoo, I told Doc he had a doctor's appointment the next day and wouldn't be going to his summer camp. Now, saying 'doctor' to a kid is like saying 'spinach' or 'go to bed early'. It puts the kibosh on any good mood, so I needed to play it down or else Doc would never get to sleep that night. I told him Daddy would take him and explain it all in the morning. All fine and good until Kit opened his trap and asked if this was going to be surgery and if he was going to have his ear operated on and if they were going to knock him out. Thanks, m'boy, we needed that. Doc's eyes got wide and I could see the questions start to whirl around his OCD addled little head. Kit was right and the cat was now out of the bag: it was minor ear surgery and they would be putting him under for an hour. I couldn't lie to the boy because he'd learn the truth the next day anyway and that would only confuse him. So I downplayed it.
"I'm not exactly sure. Daddy will explain and tell you all about it first thing in the morning."
Kit, ever the helpmeet, piped up, "will they be putting something in his ear?"
I turned to him and said plainly, "I don't know. Work with me here." which was our code for 'follow my lead while I put one over'.
Kit grinned and winked, understanding now where things stood, and proceeded to exaggerate how wonderful it would be for Doc to have the doctor cut his head open and insert a tube in his ear. "Boy, I wish it was me."
"Will you just shut up!" I said as plainly as I could.

Two days later, while preparing froohah supper number 2, I thought to avoid a similar problem by telling the older boys in advance what I was planning for Doc. That way- no confusion. Yeah, right.
Doc's surgery went well. He had a shunt put in to drain his ear, he had drops for bedtime and he had been brave all day with Buddy at the hospital. But he was overtired and didn't fall asleep until way too late. Then he was up again at dawn and spent a busy day running around at camp. He was asleep on his feet.
"I'm going to tell Doc that 6:30 is really 7:00 so he'll go to bed early without a fuss," I explained separately to our two resident junior genius's. "please go along with it so Doc doesn't feel bad about it and thinks it's his normal time." No prob, I was assured.
As soon as we sat down to supper, they both start spelling words like they were talking in code. The essence of what they spelled out was to ask if Doc was going to bed early, like somehow I hadn't told them this only 10 minutes before.
Now, what 5 year old on Earth doesn't know that when you start spelling words out in front of them that you're talking about them? The further it went on the worse it got until Doc was staring straight at me waiting for an answer.
Realizing their tactical error, we all changed the subject and Doc moved on, too, accepting that his bro's were just being silly. Supper over, dessert on the way, I said, "You better hurry up, Doc, you only have 15 minutes until bed and want to ride your bike first."
"But it's only 6:15," says Tio. Then added, "Oops."
"Good thing I asked for your help, boys. I couldn't have done it without you."

I don't think I'll make Froohah again. Too much brouhaha.