I live on an island in the Puget Sound area of WA State. I'm mom to 5 kids ages 26 to 16. My husband and I have been married for over 19 years. I feel lucky to be a stay at home mom and I not only love but LIKE my kids. Of course I must mention my grandkids, all 6 of them and one on the way! Ages 8 to 1. They are AWESOME!
His soul was a gentle one. Never a nip or scratch. He'd rest so still, seeming to enjoy grooming. He was the bun that sat on my lap as I spun. Sometimes straight from his back... because I could and sometimes just to be there as if to say spinning isn't all that solitary.
He was one of my favorite residents in the Love Shack. Always patient when waiting for his breakfast. Never greedy when taking a treat. It was a pleasure to watch him with my grandchildren. He was one of the trusted few that would let clumsy hands experience the beauty of a rabbit souls.
Funny, his name, Rhett Butler. It really didn't suit him. He was nothing like the man in Gone With the Wind. He never tainted a lovely doe's reputation. He was not outspoken in actions... But he was Rhett none-the-less.
I pray he died peacefully, sometime between his morning meal and the couple of hours later when he was discovered, it was his turn to come in for grooming and bunny love time. He was young, I'll forever wonder why he was gone so soon. No sign of discomfort, no signs of wool block, illness. However, rabbits are prey animals and they show no signs of weakness if at all possible.
I have reassessed all the other buns, can I be missing something. I've removed his cage from the rack where he lived. There is an empty spot that will never be filled again; not in my bunny heart.
Rest well Rhett Butler, you handsome man, you stole my heart, how could I stop loving you!
As I glance at my hands while type I see little fat "snausages"... all puffy and red tipped (thank you- Lupus). They are not my reliable friends... dropping stitches off the knitting needles, clumsily handling puppies, knocking over coffee cups... I feel like a toddler whose want is to make a part of my new discovered body work through my directions.
My hands feel heavy... slow... ugly.
My mother always commented on my hands, those "beautiful piano playing fingers". My long, thin, tapered fingers that stretched over an octave. Nimble and quick. When I went to have my wedding rings sized the clerk gasped at my long size 4 fingers. Oh yes, how I knew I had beautiful hands... my strong fingernails that never broke, ones that women swore were acrylic or silk wrapped. No, never! I was vain, cranberry fingernail polish adorned meticulously manicured nails, skin soft and silky from only the best of hand lotions...
...and now...
20 years later, years of diapering, gardening, working... life, have seemed to rob them of their beauty. I could have done more... more lotion, more manicures but somewhere all that got lost in the bustle of a life with very busy hands. I neglected them and their beauty faded.
... or did it?
As I look at my hands, a few paragraphs later, I see hands that touched the skin of babies fresh from the womb, hands that caught bugs with children, dug in the dirt and threw leaves. Hands that learned to make car repairs, hands that plucked out splinters and patted loyal furry friends on their heads. Hands that can sew, spin fiber to yarn, knit. Hands that not only got to hold but have had to let go...
My hands are still beautiful, not in the vain way I thought of them many years ago. They are aged, often tired and scarred but they are my hands. Sometimes they don't want to do what I tell them to... sometimes they want to be still when I still want to work and often they revolt and don't allow me to do anything but reflect. My hands have been good to me.
I see them now, in a different light... my hands are not ugly! They are still beautiful, even if unattractive.
The surgery went well, just as planned it was the recovery that was rocky. Tom received steroids before surgery. He was doing fine until he had trouble in recovery. His stats were awful. His blood pressure plummeted and had difficulty breathing. This went on for hours. I reminded them that he would probably need more steroids, they had it charted to give him a shot before leaving the hospital but I told them he needed them now... not later. After what felt like a lifetime, about 5 hrs he was able to keep O2 stats above 90% and his blood pressure stabilized.
A week later he is back to work and doing well. It is now all behind us and it's onward and upward.
The man that won my heart so many years ago is having surgery to remove his gall bladder tomorrow. It is a pretty basic proceedure but... Tom has CAH (Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia). This can severly complicate the surgery itself and his recovery. He takes high doses of different steriods, they keep his adrenal glands functioning as near normal as possible for him.
Tom (pictured on the left) and his brother. I have nearly lost him too many times. It has been difficult. The first time was in his twenties, we were both so young and a life filled with possibilities. He was honorably discharged from the Air Force. This was hard as he had planned it to be a career. This left him with a disability that affects him daily.
He is such a wonderful support to me, loving and kind. We do clash at times as we were both raised on differing sides of the of the Mason Dixon line. He is from the mid south, Missippi to be exact, me well, home is a farm in Pennsylvania. It can be a very interesting marriage at times.
I worry about him, will his body hold up to the stress of surgery, what about recovery and then home recovery. How many extra steriod shots will he need to keep from going into shock. Lord willing he will be home later tomorrow night to my care. I pray for no complications, I need my eternal partner here in this life!
I can't stand to fly I'm not that naive I'm just out to find The better part of me
I'm more than a bird:I'm more than a plane More than some pretty face beside a train It's not easy to be me
Wish that I could cry Fall upon my knees Find a way to lie About a home I'll never see
It may sound absurd:but don't be naive Even Heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed:but won't you conceed Even Heroes have the right to dream It's not easy to be me
Up, up and away:away from me It's all right:You can all sleep sound tonight I'm not crazy:or anything:
I can't stand to fly I'm not that naive Men weren't meant to ride With clouds between their knees
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet Digging for kryptonite on this one way street Only a man in a funny red sheet Looking for special things inside of me
Just an hour ago I was heading for a major panic attack. My heart was racing, I couldn't fix it all. I was trying to figure out how on earth this week was going to work and all survive. How was I not going to crumble... I know many would just say, let everyone take care of themselves... We, I don't work that way. We are a family that reaches out to each other.
I stood on the deck in the sun watching Paisley pace, waiting for her labor to start. I was mulling and getting anxious trying to make it all happen. Then clear as day I heard the words in my head... "ASK". "Ask who," I thought... "ASK" came again... I stood trying to figure out what "ASK" meant so I thought okay, I'll say a prayer. After I poured my heart out, praying that I'll be able to do it all, I ended my prayer. WEll, I didn't feel better. Then the impression came again, "ASK". I muttered under my breath, "Ask what"... "Ask Who!"
I had the phone in my hand and started dialing my friend whom I rarely see. We had gone to lunch last week after months of not seeing her. I hung up I didn't want to burden her and we had just started planning to see each other again more often. I started to dail her cell again. I knew she was at work and probably wouldn't pick up. I didn't even know what to say... I just knew I had to call.
As I talked with her she helped me make arrangements that needed made. She comforted me about other things and we shared a nice conversation afterward.
In the end...
I didn't need the meds, I ASKED and I've been blessed. I feel so at peace. I can finish this day. I will be thanking the Lord for my blessings and am again aware that he knows of my needs and if I ASK a way will be made for those things that need more than me...
As I sit here I'm watching a spider spin her web outside on the window. Why she decided there I do not know. The wind is blowing her architecture against the glass. She still perservers.
She has bumped into the window glass, the frame more than a few times and as I'm watching her I feel a string of emotions. First was suprise, why on earth there, when shelter just a foot or two away. Sympathy for her poor little body being blown around in the wind. Empathy, as I watch her I know how hard she works and may want to stop, give up, rest but must continue on, her life and those of future young depend on it.
I can see that she has chosen a different course, just in the time I type this. She has moved to the corner more, not totally out of harms way but in a place with a little more protection from the wind.
I sit here and feel like I don't want to do this day. There are appointments to make at Children's for Tommy. I'm weary from seeing his pale face, his loss of weight, the worry of when he'll feel more like himself. I try not to let him see, Tom see how worried and tired it makes me. Then I see this spider. How hard she works, how tiring it must be to not just weave her web, but to work so endlessly at what seems to be a futal cause. Then it realize that for her it isn't futal, she continues know that in the end she'll be able to rest as she waits.
I find I want to help her. Then I realize that it isn't for me to help her, it is her matter. I must take care of my own for only I can do some of what must be done.
How odd to feel more motivated by watching a spider. It's as if she has inspired me, if she can keep moving in faith that in the end it is her efforts that count I can also.
To think, just watching what I assume to be a spider's struggle so inspiring. I know that if this small creature of Father's can have faith and not quit, I can accomplish something myself. I think today, I shall weave.
To preface this, Our fridge is not hooked up to a water source and won't be until we redo a few things in the kitchen and move the fridge. However, I don't believe the ice maker should go unused. I make sure the auto function is in the off position and fill with ice that I buy from the store. One bag fills up the storage bin. Then we use the feature on the door and have cubed or crushed ice.
Well, this morning I really wanted a couple of peices of ice. There were only a few in the bin and weren't getting caught up in the spiral thing that pushes the ice forward.
A smart idea occured and I stuck my hand into the bin to wrangle out a couple of ice cubes. I poked and scooted those two measly ice cubes just close enough to grab them and then the unexpect thing happened. I got my arm caught between the automatic ice maker and the storage bin. I'm not tall enough to see in the bin which put me in an odd, twisted position. I was stuck TIGHT! As I tried to struggle to get my arm free I could feel it getting even more stuck. There I was, barefoot on a freezing floor, in my night clothes, mussed up hair, right foot standing IN the freezer and my arm twisted and caught in the ice bin. I tried to pull the bin out but it wouldn't budge. Did I mention I was alone in the house? DH left early for an appt and kids at school. What to do...
I could feel a wave of panic creeping in but I swallowed it down. I knew if I yelled out no one would hear me so I had to figure it out for myself. Not being able to reach the butter dish, nor being able to open the fridge because it was on my right side and I couldn't contourt myself to open the door, it hit me that there was not going to be any easy, painless way to extricate myself. I took in a deep breath, gritted my teeth and wiggled out, with much effort and pain. I wanted to cry when I freed my arm but it hurt too darn bad!
Okay, I already had a very angry bruise starting, FIRST AID! I need to care for my wounded arm. ICE! I need ice! Then I looked at the freezer and started laughing! I have no ice! That is what got me in this predicament in the first place! So it was a bag of frozen corn and a bread towel for me.
I'm going to have a lovely bruised forearm. Just twisting it causes quite a bit of discomfort. I just bonked it on the computer desk... it's one of those places that obviously gets bonked easily.
This injury and the disaggreement Frankie and I had yesterday has nearly put my right arm out of commission! My palm and wrist are bruised and puntured from an angry parrot, and now my forearm from battling to gain two! count them Two! ice cubes!
I'm going to wrap myself up in Bubble Wrap and sit very still today. It's cold and I really want to build a fire but... that may not be a good idea!
So ladies, NEVER EVER try to chase down two small ice cubes in an automatic ice maker!
My grandson is 5 years old. He's the one that keeps Nana Pants on her toes, literally! Well... said wonderful child was instructed to take the old carrots down and throw them over the fence for the chickens. Which he did enthusiastically! He was taking quite a while to come up from the pen so I sent his 8 year old out to check on him. As soon as we hit the back door I could hear him calling, "Help, I need Help!" Off I run with my granddaughter. As soon as I got to the gate I had to start counting to 117, counting to 10 was not near long enough There he stood in the middle of the chicken yard with his pocket slimy and wet. Before I can say a word he proudly tells me that there were 4 eggs and he didn't have enough hands so he put them in his pocket but "I only cracked one". I was on number 78 and still counting, we've had the talk many times, don't put chicken eggs in your pocket because...
I marched him up to the house and had him strip down to his skivies and threw his clothes in the washer. Now that presents a new problem, I only had one wash load of soap left and too lazy to go to the store but need to get gentles done. AS I'm tossing his clothes in the washer he started complaining that his "Spiderman's" were sticky. Off they came too. So now I have a naked 5 year old with no extra clothes. He is now sitting quietly, NOT! waiting for his unders to dry, I handwashed them, and his clothes are in the washer.
I'm laughing but not because I think it's humorous, it's because I feel as if I'm going to go insane before this day has finished!
Little Peter Cottontail (he IS the Easter Bunny! according to dear little granddaughter... who does call on Easter Eve to make sure I keep his cage open so he can get out) had a harrowing experience the other day. He was exploring a gap between the azalea and the fence and curiosity got the best of him. He slipped thru and got himself stuck between the neighbors' metal shed and stack of firewood.
We prodded him with willow branches but he was not going to budge. Our sweet neighbor got a pool cue and gently nudged him from the other side, no luck. We could barely reach him. With a lot of effort we were able to grab the hair on his back and gently tugged, he cried out, from fear or pain I couldn't tell. I was trying not to panic, he had moved enough to get stuck tight, he couldn't go forward nor could he go back. In the end we tore apart and re-stacked almost a cord of wood, trying hard to not let it cave in him.
My neighbor was finally able to reach in and lift him by his 'scruff' and hand him to me over the fence. He snuggled deep in my arms for quite sometime before popping his head up and looking about. I made sure he was okay and back in his cage he went. He took a long drink of water and stretched out to sun himself. Naughty bunny, but the picture of his little cotton tail sticking out from the gap (before getting stuck) was so cute, just as you could imagine Benjamin Bunny and Peter Rabbit heading off for some mischief. (June 1, 2007)
These are stories from my old blog. I no longer can access it, I know the team at blogspot are frustrated with me so... I'm simply going to move them here. So please pardon the duplications.
...well, it is my blog afterall! I'll clean it up later... maybe
Story #1 Rabbits in the Grass (a Farside type short)
It was a beautiful afternoon, the birds were softly singing, a soft breeze blew clouds lazily along the sky. The ground where she laid waiting for their approach was warm and it’s earthy scent was intoxicating.Suddenly, without notice they swiftly appeared. She was awestruck by their beauty, the soft downy hair, powerful legs, and warm gentle eyes. They shyly approached the clover patch just beyond the garden stone. As she lay there, trying to go unnoticed, one of these graceful creatures sensed her presence. There was a thump of warning. The anxious herd coward to the ground hiding amongst the tall blades of grass. The small, timid creature reared up on his powerful hind legs to gain a better look over the tall thick grass. When she was noticed there was another thump, warning the others to stay hidden. She quickly looked down and did her best to hold very still. She had herd that these shy animals will scatter if eye contact or a sudden movement were made. She did not want to startle these wonderful animals as she hoped to be come a trusted member of the herd...Rabbits, in the grass.
#3 Thinking of Tina
That was written in a note to Casey by his mother, a long time childhood friend, it was her expression of how much she loves him. On January 10, 2004, my dear friend lost her son suddenly. He was 21, just 2 and a half months younger than my oldest daughter. It was believed the he died in his sleep, without pain. The cause? Many suspected a drug overdose, or a lethal combination of drugs and alcohol. The actual cause, an undetected heart defect.It angered me the assumptions of the people of the community. Casey had his struggles but he was a loved child. He was good, his family. There've been quite a few deaths of teens and young adults on my small island, often speed and wreckless driving and DUI are the average causes of death. You don't hear much gossip over most of the deaths, families with money or higher standing in the community. Casey's family, down to earth and working hard to get by. Casey learned many lessons in life, some harder than others, but he was a treasure. All God's children are!My heart ached for my friend. Her loss. I shared some memories I had of Casey as a toddler at his memorial. I remember my friend holding up his picture saying, "Oh Dulie, this was our boy". He was. Tina and I shared pregnancies that were not of the 'ideal' circumstances. She was a close friend during my first pregnancy with my son Paul. Then the heartache of insensitive decisions of adults around me that left my arms empty and son to live in another family, one of my Aunts and her husband far from my reach. Then a marriage that was not my best choice in life and pregnancy of my daughter Mendy.I was always in awe of Tina. She was so strong and had an independance that I longed to have for myself. I was timid, shy and looked in the wrong direction for security. Looking back I know Tina had her worries, the nights alone with two small children. None the less, I still longed to be like her.Then the day came when her heart dropped to the earth. I wasnt' there when she was given the news but I can only imagine the disbelief and grief that struck my friend unexpectedly. There were a few times where Casey had health crisis's. He had a terrible accident as a toddler inwhich he had to have brain surgery to remove a pencil lead in his brain. Then the epilepsy, coma and health concerns that accompanied him through out his short life.Tina shared an experience with me that happened during Casey's brain surgery. He coded on the table while she was in a bathroom, trying to compose herself, fearful for her son. She told me how she felt his Spirit go through her body. She could feel him and smell him on her skin. She knew. Thank God when he revived.Tina knows life. Tina knows death. Tina knows that her son is with God. He's free from pain and with many loved family members.Why am I writing this? I'm not entirely sure myself but when death occurs there seems to be a time that one reflects on loves and losses. You see, Tina's family has been visited by death yet, again. Her precious niece, Kaitin Rose died, who at 7 years old went to the heavens just a couple of days ago. She fought a battle with Neuroblastoma most of her short life.My granddaughter Lauren shared her first grade class. She loved Kaitie and would excitedly announce when she came to school after a long absence due to her cancer. It's hard for me to think of one so young being plucked from this life. Heavenly Father needed an angel. I believe her to be there, riding ponies and chasing butterflies.I'm reflecting... pondering... praying. My dear children who are grown and have their own families, the two teens left here at home. I pray I will never feel the sting of death, but ultimately it comes, sometimes unexpectedly, and sometimes swiftly and then there are times, where it lingers, allowing good-byes, and last touches.Kaitie, Casey, Rusty-my brother who also died at 7 from a brain tumor. You are missed and yet, we rejoice, you are in Paradise. How wonderful it must be, and we wait to be with you again.Dear Friend, Tina, I don't spend nearly enough time with you. Tina, Jenni, how I sorrow yet, rejoice for you. You were tender and your sweet children knew how much they were loved. God Bless you both.ad infinitum, the love a Mother has for her child/children.
#4 Naughty Bunnies!
Well, my little colony of does have spent the summer happily running free in a large pen where the floor is thickly covered in fresh orchard grass, wooden boxes to hide in, toys to toss and plenty of lounging space. I've very much enjoyed sitting on an overturned box watching them and having them jump in my lap for a quick bunny kiss and the anticipated scratch behind the ear. However, those days maybe numbered.Yesterday afternoon I came home from an afternoon of wandering. I was watching the downpour when out from around the bunny barn came a little red bunny scampering across the yard. I knew right off who it was, PENELOPE! Tommy's bunny, the one that is just like her poppa, if there's a wall to scale or hole to dig they're going to get the job done! Not only had she dug to her escape, she scaled a 4' wire wall then ran behind Willow's cage and dug an escape tunnel.I mentioned the downpour. Have I mentioned what happens to Angora Rabbits that are caught in rain? They turn into little balls of felt. Amber and I went out to catch the little rascal and brought her into the house. We draped her in a thick towel. As I held onto Penelope she let me know she disapproved of what I was doing. After a couple of irritated kicks, head tosses and nose nudges she settled in when she realized that she was warming up as I gently patted the water out of her beautiful but soaked coat. When I had finished she sat snuggled deep into a dry towel and seemed to be a very approving rabbit while I cradled her in my arms.Then this morning came. There was a rustling in the bunny barn and without warning out popped Ivy! She was out of the pen enjoying the fact that she could run past the boys, tease them then scamper off. Did I mention that Ivy is Penelope's mother?Oh what to do? They've been in the pen for months. No getting out of the pen, no escape tunnels. I just hate the thought of putting them back in cages. I'm going to have to give this some thought.However, I do have to say I find it a little amusing. Those naughty bunnies.
I'll be back to reformat these articles, but for now... they are here, safe, provided my mosiac mind doesn't loose my sign in info!
