no apologies for the cuteness

With holidays comes adorable Easter dresses.

Bonus if they are dressed alike because what can be more adorable…

…especially when the darlings are at an age where they can’t really complain and protest. Actually at this age they LOVE it! So seize it while you can.

It’s a very narrow window of time when you can truly get away with such cuteness…

…and enjoy the total cooperation; because it’s fun that we are all dressed the same!

Remember that when the day comes (and it WILL come) when the kids look at these memories and then back at you wondering out loud, “What the hell were you thinking, Mom?!

Then you smile back at them because you have no apologies for such cuteness and you are absolutely certain that someday they will do it to their children too.

Scroll back to the top if you don’t believe me.

overdoing

The Big Top Spring Break plans had to be shelved…for obvious reasons…womp, womp. Bill is still waiting on his cardiologist to sign off on his disability insurance and, well, the savings for Spring Break Week in Monterey had to be redirected because clowns need to be fed and bills need to be paid.

Perhaps next year!

But, we are excellent punters…any family with more than 1-2 children is because it is part of basic family survival.

My darling husband is recuperating well but he is growing more restless and bored as each day goes by. His son in law comes over to mow the lawn. The wife is taking out the trash, along with everything else she juggles. He can’t vacuum. He can’t haul the laundry up and down the stairs or the groceries out of the mom car. He can’t walk the dog…no matter how much Betty begs. So he walks in the morning and the afternoon and the evening. And he putters around the Big Top feeling incredibly restless and bored.

A beach vacation would have been perfect right about now….yes.

Maybe a day in San Francisco is what we all need. Nothing ambitious…no big shopping trips or crossing bridges. Perhaps a day visiting a dear, old friend and lunch and some walks around a very small part of The City.

The most delicious, cup of Swiss chocolate made perfect while enjoying the company of a dear, old friend who made it for us.

Strolling through the Yerba Buena Gardens, enjoying the water falls…

and perhaps reflecting a little on the fail that is your Mima and Papa not having any spare change to toss into the fountain so that you can make a wish. Absolute fail!

A fail soon forgotten as you try to shake Shaking Man‘s hand(s).

Oh Art!

Onward to the Zeum Carousel…renamed recently the Leroy King Carousel

Whatever the name, it is a good place to ride a dragon

or a beautiful, white horse.

Absolute fun!

Lunch followed up with a short walkabout around Union Square complete with an encounter with a Buddhist monk offering prayer beads for Hazel and me along with a blessing…for 20 bucks.

Yeah.

Hazel and I accepted the beads and the blessings giving 4 bucks because that was all that we had. The beads are cute though.

A good day…a great day…a day where perhaps Bill might have overdid it.

Looking at her, exhausted, he agrees that yes, he overdid it. But he smiles when he states this.

Tomorrow he rests,

I promise.

He promises too.

slowing so the magic can happen

I could lie and tell you all that it’s been a stellar week in wife-dom and mommy-hood but some of you know me too well. I did shoot for excellence but the darling husband and some of those kids just got in the way , as they always do.

Adjusting continues with the resting and rehabilitation for Bill. And he pushes perhaps too hard. Naturally just when I start to nag or cry or fret or worry it is clear that his body is already nagging at him almost as good as I would. Still, I nag anyway because we both wouldn’t expect anything less from me and besides, he is pale and looking like he has done too much and OMG…why is he not following doctor’s orders??!!

Oh, he has no idea how much I am restraining myself…until one of my darling clowns does what apparently at that moment is the unthinkable. I mean, who is going to take your special-middle-aged-lady-face-cleanser from your shower without asking and then not even bother to return it?

Right?!

There is talk that I might have gone a little bit over the top handling this incident…after my darling husband told me he took the dog for a walk jog around the block…against doctor’s orders…but it was no big deal…except that it was clearly as I look at him. Yes, I might have transferred a little bit of that anxiety and stress on one of my clowns.

I offer no apology.

I blame the kid and the husband.

After we all took a deep cleansing breath, they did too.

Yes, we all are still adjusting.

It’s a good thing my darling husband made an appointment today for me to be pampered at our darling 1st daughter’s salon before the STEMI. I am guaranteed always anything hair related from Hollie gratis because I gave her life and all that but I know time in her chair, at her salon, is money that she works very hard for. Her time is limited and her client list is growing and growing to the point that people wait to sit in her chair. How, then I rationalize, can I sit in her chair taking time from paying clients? So I have her work her magic in her kitchen or mine while trying to juggle her busy, busy babies. Except Hollie and the darling husband decided that I can and I should so the appointment was made…and the appointment I kept.

I could get used to this.

We spent a few hours together. Her busily making me ginger-er (with a lot of purple) and trimming the latest pixie grow…which I have to say is the best of all my pixie grows ever thanks to Hollie’s talent and skills.

And we laughed.

We talked about the crazy tech-phobe moms in our school district and on Facebook.

And music.

And the young Justin Bieber hair stage of a pixie grow.

And Britney Spears’ weaves.

And Hunter Moore and the last time we talked about him and what a douche he was and hurray for karma!

And new adventures.

And her amazing babies.

And getting older and how she better never, ever talk to me like I’m two when I am super old even if my mind is addled because I’ll still know because back in the day in  nursing school, believe me, those beautiful old people knew their adult children were doing that to them.

I feel very strongly about that last discussion and made it very clear to her…,and perhaps someone in the chair next to me.

Oh, and I marveled to myself, what an amazing human this person who is a part of me is…the first human who is a living part of me!

And she makes me pretty and ginger-ed.

I leave her salon feeling lovely with my sexy, sexed-up hair that is even more almost a bob and I feel overwhelming love and pride for this adult baby girl of mine. I’d go back into her salon and hug her while gushing with pride and love and tears in front of co-workers and the client in her chair but that would be awkward and not right…not right at all.

She might never, ever let me sit in her chair again.

No, I’ll just enjoyed my sexed up hair, which the darling husband likes and random vet tech noticed and complimented when I dropped Zelda-kitty off for her appointment after…and I will give thanks for slowing down today so I can sit in my daughter’s chair for a few hours today and let the magic happen. Then I will smile because I know that magic happens because I’m her mommy.

for the calming effect on the nervous system of humanoids

We have a pretty awesome son in law, in case you all don’t already know. Hearing that his dad-in-law and the guy who married him for love and infinity and beyond to his gorgeous wife, he wanted to do something for him…because love and gratitude and the fact this guy let him marry his baby girl and even married them, his baby girl and the son in law.

We hear that this is a favorite shot from their wedding day because while the groom and bride were so nervous, the officiant/Daddy/Dad in law seemed to be having a really good time.

He was, Hollie and Ben. You all wouldn’t be old married folk if he wasn’t having fun standing up there with his buddy/baby girl and the man whom she loved. But you all already know that and have known that through the years together.

So Ben came to visit his Dad-in-law bearing a special gift, a gift he knew would be the right gift.

Yes, a tribble.

In the 23rd century, an enterprising trader named Cyrano Jones procured an interesting and adorable little creature. These tiny furry beasties had a calming effect on the nervous systems of humanoids – well most humanoids, anyway. They were called tribbles.

These tribbles, when they’re not busy being cute and purring, were prodigious breeders. As one country-doctor once quipped, “Well, the nearest thing that I can figure is that they’re born pregnant – which appears to be quite a time-saver!” In fact, their ability to multiply is so incredible, they can fill an entire cargo hold in three days – that’s one million, seven-hundred seventy-one thousand, five hundred sixty one tribbles… assuming one tribble with an average litter of ten producing a new generation every twelve hours. That’s some impressive breeding, right there. It would make any man want to high-five any tribble, except tribbles don’t have arms.

This tribble, however, is genetically altered to be sterile. Or so we have been told. God, I hope so! Our Big Top is crowded enough already.

Meanwhile, this tribble proved to be the perfect gift as after Ben, the son in law, left; Ben, Bill’s nurse, was pulling the venous and arterial lines from his groin which meant 30 minutes of seriously, hard pressure applied to those insertion sites to insure that there would be no bleeding from those big blood vessels. The tribble purred and cooed a lot as Bill hugged it tightly during that time. Thinking he his definitely not a Klingon.

Good thing.

Oh, and thank goodness for Bill’s tribble!

The same day that Bill went to the hospital for chest pains, it was announced that Leonard Nimoy, Spock, also was.

Coincidence, yes.

And Friday morning, as Bill finally came home to The Big Top, we were greeted with the breaking news that Leonard Nimoy, Mr. Spock, had died. And being the nerdy family that we are, we honored Mr. Spock and celebrated Bill’s homecoming the best way that we knew watching some of the original Star Trek series, including, but of course, The Trouble with Tribbles, because, seriously, what else is there?

The House of Cards, Season 3?

Yeah, there’s that.

Whatever. 

We’ll catch up soon enough. For now we are watching Star Trek on Netflix starting with The Trouble with Tribbles…cuddling with our tribble, of course.

LLAP yo!

 

catharsis

Bill is home!

We couldn’t be happier. Now the entire circus can hopefully get a good night’s sleep and maybe eat a decent home-cooked meal. I’m not sure about other things like laundry and other chores around the house. Maybe after we all catch up on some sleep.

In the meantime begins the recovery process and new reality. Five to ten minute easy walks as tolerated and lifting nothing more than ten pounds are acceptable activities which means no working, yard work, Krav Maga classes or dog walking for at least the next month or so.

Six prescribed and two over the counter meds every morning and every night. Nitroglycerin if he has chest pains. The cardiologist also recommends a home AED (naturally not covered by insurance) and CPR for all the kids.

Going over the post cardiac cath diagnostic tests, Bill’s cardiologist told us approximately 40% of his heart muscle has suffered damage. She is hopeful with some radical changes and medications, we can hopefully see some healing in time. This include working on lowering his bad LDL cholesterol and raising his good HDL cholesterol with medication and Bill sticking to the dietary changes that I have already been forcing on him. Then there is the big one…the smoking. The cardiologist made it very clear that he must stop smoking. He must never smoke again. Bill agrees telling her that he quit smoking at bedtime Monday night and that since then he has had no desire or craving to smoke. The hard part, the hardest part will be once he is home, she tells him. He agrees as she advises everything and anything smoking related should be removed from his home environment. As he nods his head in agreement, I offer to take care of that before he comes home and he tells me to do that for him.

I guess he missed my eager enthusiasm to fall on that sword for him…or maybe he did not. Who cares! He told me to get rid of those f-ers!

I tell Daniel as we were driving down to Modesto to see his dad yesterday.

Can I help? I want to smash them with a sledge hammer! No, I want to blow them up with dynamite!

I guess he has strong feelings about his dislike for cigarettes…like his mama. I assure him that he can easily destroy them all for his dad…without dynamite or a sledge hammer.

You can’t imagine how cathartic shredding these felt for my son and me.

And thus begins a new day here under the Big Top for my darling husband and our circus.

Everyone, family, friends near and far, lurkers who bravely reached out, total strangers who don’t know us at all but perhaps know one of our children or a friend, my estranged brother, even our mail carrier who offered kind words, prayers, hugs, texts, calls and visits — thank you, thank you, thank you! You can’t even begin to imagine how good your kindness was to us all…usually during a moment when one of us, or all of us needed it the most.

THANK YOU!