Saturday, February 11, 2006

Brittle Ol' Bones (A sequel to Wrinkly Ol' Butts)

I am still alive and kickin', but good Lord it's been quite a week.

The last time I blogged was Wednesday . . . let me fill you in. Because I know you are just curious as The Man in the Yellow Hat's simeon friend.

Thursday morning I got up a hair late. By "a hair" I mean 45 minutes. I jumped in the shower and I think I got relatively clean. I started straightening my hair before it was completely dry. At 6:49 the phone rang. The only time my phone rings that early is when one of my babysittin' babies is sick and their parent is calling to tell me they won't be here. But the Caller ID showed my dad's number. Dad never calls at 6:49am. I answered and Dad said, "Good morning!" Awfully chipper....strange...."Uh, good morning, Dad." Again with the chipper, he said, "Are you up? Are you ready to face the world?" Frankly, he was freakin' me out. "Dad, is everything okay?" "Nope."

Nana fell and broke her other hip. Uncle Mike called Dad around midnight and said he couldn't even move her. Last time he picked up her frail little 90 pound body and put her in the car. This time her 85 pounds wouldn't be moved from the floor; she was in a lot of pain. He called an ambulance which had to come from Miami because Picher and Quapaw don't have ambulance service anymore. And I'm not sure, but I think the ambulance had to be diverted because the highway has been closed into Picher. See, just a few miles to the north of here lies the Nation's Largest SuperFund Site. (We capitalize it like that because we're so dang proud.) The highway into town has been closed due to the fact it is sitting precariously over a plethora of mine shafts and the highway has become unstable. The elementary school playground isn't even safe anymore and they're doing a geological study on it.

So I guess they got her settled in the hospital around 2am. They did the surgery Thursday afternoon. Last time, when she broke the right one, she just cracked the femur and they screwed it back together. This time I guess she broke the left one real good and it took a metal plate and more screws. They opted to do general anesthetic this time, rather than the spinal like last time. I was really worried about that, but she came through it fine and dandy.

But again, just like last time, now she's goofier than a run over dog. She's not in the hospital, she left last night, she's staying at her son's, she didn't break her hip, it took four ambulances to get her out of her house, she's ticked off at Dad to no end, etc etc ad nauseum. But at least the Hatfields and McCoys aren't battling in the hallway outside her room like they were last time. Hoo doggies, fun with the elderly.

She now has a permanent room at the nursing home. There is no other option. She simply can't be by herself anymore. She doesn't know this yet and when she finds out she's going to be so mad at each and every one of us. Mom says she'll quit eating, go catatonic and die. And I think Mom's right. Dad agrees as well. She's one stubborn ol' gal. But, her mental state is dodgy at best, her physical state is dwindling daily and she's just past the point of independent living. She can't even do assisted living now. It's the nursing home for the rest of her life.

If I think or talk about it too much I get really upset, so I'm going to quit.


Thursday night was the Brownie Skating/Slumber Party. Some of the girls got off the bus here and I gave them snacks and turned them loose to run amuck until time to leave. Around 5:15 I told them all to go to the restroom and I headed out to get the carseats out of the van. It was cold, so I turned the van on to warm up. And when I started it, there was this funny clicky sound. I ran my first car, a 1986 gold Chevy Cavalier with a horrible paint job, out of oil and I am terrified of clicky sounds. Plus, the minute the clicking started I remembered Paul telling me a week or so ago, "You better put some oil in the van. It's a quart low." I turned it off, hollered at him, pulling him away from a heated game of Collapse, and thus, making him mad.

It was only 2 quarts low.

I'm just glad I had 6 little Brownies standing on my front porch or ooooooh I would've gotten a cussing! As it was, it was more of a scolding with whispered and mumbled profanity. No Brownies were harmed in the checking of the oil. He told me to pick up at least a quart at the convenience store on the way to the rink and then to get it in to Wal*Mart. Uh....he works there 5 days a week IN THE DEPARTMENT WHERE THEY CHANGE OIL. Does anyone else think it'd be easier for him to drive it in there himself? If I take it I take 3 children. If he takes it they change the oil while he works. I'm just not understanding his logic on that one.


Okay, so we loaded up. My van was in the lead, one momma next, and another momma and daddy behind her. We were a few minutes late getting to the rink, but that was really not a problem. I think they were glad to see such a group come in. It was Christian Music Night and the guy told me when I called earlier in the week that there'd be 30-40 on the floor. If we hadn't come there'd have been 4 on the floor.

Some of the girls had skated before, but most of them were very novice skaters. Abby has been once before and with her long, gangly legs she looks like Olive Oyl. TotOne was so scared of those skates, it was hilarious. Tater got her skates on, I got my skates on, the other moms did as well and then we all stood there like "You go first." I had been twice in the last few years, and I did much better the other times. I went once around the rink and it wasn't bad. A few feet into my second lap I fell. I mean, flat on my big fat butt, I fell. And of course, Tater, Magnet Lady and MagnetSister nearly fell laughing at me. I sat there quite awhile because well, getting up off the floor is hard enough when you're not in skates. I think they lapped me once before I finally crawled to the wall and clawed at the bricks until I found a hold and stood up once more, knee throbbing, butt sore and pride slightly wounded.

The girls had a blast! Even Abby, who didn't move off the wall all night, had a good time. By the time the night was half over TotOne was out on the floor by herself. McKenzie and MaKayla were flying past us all, the little whippersnappers. Skating was supposed to be over at 8:30, so at 8:15 we all gathered for a group picture and sent them back out to squeeze in as much skating as they could in 15 minutes. At 8:25 the DJ announced last time and it was a slow skate to Amazing Grace. It's hard to skate to Amazing Grace, just so you know. I went one lap and decided to get my skates off before the girls got off the floor. Halfway through the song, I looked out and saw McKenzie lying face down on the floor. Abby was knelt next to her and so was Tater. I thought she had fallen and was being dramatic. Then her mom, who was sitting next to me visiting, said, "Oh no....oh no...." and Tater was waving her down to where they were. Carol started off on her skates then stopped and wrestled out of them as Tater picked up Kenzie and skated her in.

She broke her arm.

The poor kid had just broken it last April on the playground at school. She said as soon as she hit she knew it was broken. She and Abby are best friends and as they skated McKenzie in, here came Abby right behind, white as a sheet and big ol' tears threatening to spill. I sat Abby down and started helping her off with her skates while Kenzie's Mom helped her with hers. All the mommas were talking quiet, reassuring words to the girls as we helped them off with their skates. One of their own was down, wounded in battle, and the troops were shaken. I told Carol that I had to call my Service Unit leader to find out what steps I had to take and then we'd meet them at the hospital. They headed out while we finished up, cleaned up, thanked the skate people and gave the girls a pep talk.

I called Sherry, my SU leader, and she said that in all of her years of Girl Scouting she'd not had to deal with an injury on a trip. Yep, leave it to me. Diva's in the Scouting hizzouse now and there will never be anything normal for the rest of forever. Or at least, as long as I'm involved. She said she had an insurance paper, but she needed me to call some big muckity muck first and let her know. And of course, there will be an accident report to fill out. *sigh* I just can't do anything uncomplicated.

We stopped at the hospital and Tater and I went in while MagnetLady sat in the van with the girls. They splinted her and promised pain killers, so she was hanging in there. We were just standing there not knowing quite what to do when Carol pulled Tater out in the hallway. I gave them a funny look, but didn't say anything. Carol came back in and sat down then Tater pulled me out in the hallway. She murmured, "The EMT's crotch is blown out," then pushed me back in the room. I was confused. Was that code talk? Like "The eagle flies at midnight while wearing purple clogs"? Then Carol caught my eye and nodded toward the EMT's nether region. I completely understood the code talk when I saw the dude's red underwear just a shinin' through the hole in his crotch like a diamond in a goat's butt. It was right after that, amid stifled giggles, that Tater and I decided to leave. McKenzie's a rather outspoken child and I could just imagine her saying something and there'd be no way I could've stifled a giggle then, dignified Girl Scout leader or not.

We opted to skip the shopping for the animal shelter and instead took the girls to Wal*Mart to buy Kenzie a stuffed animal and a card. Then Tater bought them all an Icee.

After the girls signed the card, we dropped back by the hospital and left leather bejacketed bulldog with right arm wrapped in gauze with red-eyed, doped up 9 year old with right arm splinted.

As we were driving home, Tater kind of giggled and I asked her what was so funny. She said, "I bet somewhere at the main Girl Scout headquarters there's one of those counter thingies with a sign that says '6500 days without an accident'. They're gonna be rollin' that puppy back to zero now." Again I say, leave it to me.

We got back to Diva Ranch around 10:30 and the girls proceded to hole up in the toyroom and do whatever it is 6, 7, 8 and 9 year old little girls do. I had bought some Oreos so we fixed them some Oreos and milk and called them out for that, then sent them back, using a bullwhip and chair to herd them back in safely. Around midnight they started wandering in to us, one and two at a time, blinking slowly and whining. We knew they were crashing, but no one was actually stopping. At nearly 1am we finally had to make them all lie down, we turned out the lights and threatened them. It wasn't that we cared if they stayed up later, but amidst the whining, tattling, griping and just generally bad moodineess of them we decided they'd had enough fun. We didn't realize until yesterday morning that we bought them COKE Icees at Wal*Mart at 9pm. We're real einsteins, we are - we paired up caffeine highs with Oreos at an incredibly late hour.

MagnetLady and Tater are bigtime nightowls and I am not. At 2am my eyes would stay open no longer and I gave up. I remember MagnetLady exclaiming that it was 3:30 and then Tater told me she was taking off my glasses and I was out again.

Kenzie's doing fine. We talked to her yesterday morning and she has another cast, bless her heart. It rebroke where it had broken before. Dang that luck. All of the girls were gone by noon and by 1:30 my three kids and Chandler were sleeping and so was I.


The kids and I went to town last night to get groceries and take Sam to karate. Tuesday night is usually karate night, but Paul and I were just not in the mood that night so we skipped. Sensei said he'd like Sam to switch to Mondays if we can. That might cut into my Ladies' Night flexibility, but that's usually Paul's day off, so we're gonna work on it. Plus, he has a Little Dragons class right before Sam's on Mondays and Kady's old enough now. It's just a matter of whether I want to - and am able to - shell out $49.50 for Sam AND $39.50 for Kady a month. I told him that I'd have to see if we could afford it. He mentioned the 10% family discount. $80.10 a month for my children to be able to fight off bullies and kick each other's butts. Hmm ... that's gonna take some thinkin'.


I may have mentioned on here that I LOATHE Valentine's Day. If I haven't mentioned it before, or if you've just forgotten -


I have since junior high and will for the rest of my ever-lovin' life. It is a horrible holiday and is just a glaring reminder of the lack of romance in my life. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but he ain't the most romantic man you'd ever meet. And I used to think that romance was necessary for living and breathing and utter happiness. I know now that one can survive with out romance, but it sure makes for a crappy Valentine's Day.

So I asked if I could go with my mom and her friend, Lisa, to see Brokeback Mountain on Valentine's Day. It's Men's Night. I just figured he'd go out with the guys and I could go watch the gay cowboy movie that I really want to see. But when I asked he got his feelings hurt, so I guess I won't be going to watch Jake kiss Heath. Dang that luck. I'm not 100% sure, but I'm sure he'll go to Men's Night and I'm going to miss the gay cowboys. See why I hate Valentine's Day?

So we're going out tonight. Tater and Bub went out last night and I watched the Tater kids for them. Tonight they're watching our little Divas while we don't go watch a gay cowboy movie or participate in anything remotely romantic. I bet we go gambling.

Big surprise there, eh?


Oh, by the way - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DivaDad!! You just keep getting closer and closer to that century mark, dude. That's gotta suck. I love you!

1 comment:

~ A P R I L ~ said...

I read your two posts and had quite a few comments but I stopped cause I had to pee and now all my witty comments are gone. Sorry. I suck.

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Originally published in The Miami News-Record, July 2020 Everything is different now. I’m not just talking about masks and social distancing...