and the BEAT goes on

Another day in ICU for my mom. Her oxygen saturation levels are still low. I was told she got a bit cranky and feisty when the nurses were not understanding what she needed. So that is a very good sign. I cannot imagine how it must feel after open heart surgery. I guess like a train hit you.

Mom Update and Stuff

Mom is still in the ICU so I have not been able to talk to her. Hopefully she will be out of ICU tomorrow. She'll have a few more days in the hospital, and then to a rehab facility for a bit. Oh my stars, the LS is not gonna like that!

I remember, a couple years ago, she came for a visit. And poor thing, she came down with the stomach flu almost immediately after the plane landed. She was resting in Jacob's room and had told me she had to take a certain pill at 10:00 PM. Being on time with this medicine was crucial. At 9:55 I went in and tried to wake her up. Mind you she was lying on her back, and her hands were folded across her chest. The only thing missing was the lily.

Not wanting to startle her, I called her name softly. Nothing. I called her name again, a bit louder this time. Still nothing. I stared at her chest and could not see it moving. I called her name a third time. Nothing. By the time I had called her name about 10 times, in a progressively louder voice, I was in tears. At that point I went and got my husband. He has EMT training, and I was too freaked out to think straight. He leaned over her, put his hand on her arm and said "Donna." Well, he had to say it a few times, but she finally woke up.

I'm over in the corner, trying to regain my composure, and to her it was just another day. I said, "Mom, I couldn't wake you up, I thought you had died right there in Jacob's bed." Now I think, and I could be wrong, but I think most mothers would have felt bad for me. They would have reassured me and all that good stuff. My mother got quite testy. She told me, in a rather aggravated tone, "I'm very much alive and well, thank you very much!"

Jacob's girlfriend was here today. It's becoming a tradition so I call it "McKenna Mondays." Such a pretty name, McKenna. I have started calling her Pixie Girl, because she reminds me of a little fairy or pixie. Are those the same thing? She is okay with me calling her that. I asked her. Of course my son would prefer I wouldn't call her that, but he'll have to get over it. When she got home she sent him a text telling him she really liked me and that I made her feel like she was my daughter. And, she likes paper crafts!! YESSSSSSS!

Little Snapper

This photo was taken in 1994. Jacob was a month old and Grandma flew up to meet him. He is her first grandchild. And so much like her, in so many ways.

This photo was taken in 2009. My mother is such a lady. As children my sister and I would stand outside the bathroom, and wait to hear any unusual noises. We always said she was a saint, but if she passed gas, that made her more human in our eyes. Needless to say she didn't appreciate the audience.

For a while we called her "Little Snapper." She is a tiny thing, but her presence is enormous. You just don't mess with the Little Snapper. But one day she informed me that Snapper was a euphemism for a certain part of the female anatomy, and she would prefer if I not refer to her that way again. Of course I never meant the term in the anatomical sense. It was a sad day when I had to retire the "Little Snapper."

I am so thankful she is here with us, and that God wasn't quite ready to take her home.

Mr. Cob

With Mother's Day fast approaching, I thought I'd share a photo of my son Jacob and I. He was about three weeks old and weighed 4 lbs., 7 oz. The outfit he is wearing was a premie size, and still it was too big for him.

He reminded me of a little old man, and one day I looked down at him and said, "Mister Cob." To this day we call him Cob, or Cobby.

I had planned to breastfeed him, and this was very important to me. He spent 2-1/2 weeks in the NICU, and I pumped milk for him. The nurses would then insert a tube down his throat and into his stomach and slowly give him the milk. One ounce was considered a meal. They did this because they didn't want him using any energy sucking on a nipple. That still amazes me. Thankfully this method of feeding only lasted a few days. We then moved on to something similar, in that a thin tube was taped to our finger and a syringe with milk was attached to the tube. Slowly we dispensed the milk into his mouth. The same mechanics as giving someone an injection. Once again the point being that he not exert any energy. Every calorie mattered.

Then we moved on to actual breastfeeding. The nurses were wonderful, and helpful. Mr. Cob, however, wanted nothing to do with it. He refused to latch on, and actually took his tiny little hand and attempted to push my breast away from him. All the while screaming bloody murder. There were many tries at the hospital, at home, and with a breastfeeding instructor. He just wasn't having it. So, in the midst of post-partum insanity, with a fresh C-Section scar, I continued to use the breast pump. The important thing was he was getting my milk, not how it was being dispensed. Logically I knew this, but emotionally I felt like a failure.

A breast pump can only do so much, and certainly isn't ideal. It was like my body knew this, because after just a few weeks I began to dry up. I remember being at my six week post-op check at the OB/GYN and unleashing a torrent of tears concerning my inability to feed my son as nature intended. I sobbed, "If this were 100 years ago and we were on the prairie, he'd starve to death!!!" The man looked at me as if I were insane.

Mr. Cob is 16 years old now. He is my only child (that I know of). He's a wonderful young man and I thank God for him every day.

The Many Naps of Juneau (Boogie) Morris

I actually had another bed-themed post planned for today, but the photo for it is still in the camera. I've spent most of today with muscle issues, which means I haven't been productive.

Here's Boogie chillin' in the king size bed. Thankfully we are at the "tail" end of coat-blowing season. I think. I hope. You can see the tufts of loose hair around his hindquarters. He's worth it though.

Ladybugs and Flamingos

These zippered pouches, make-up bags are available in my eBay store. All gorgeous in their own way, and all made by hand (and sewing machine) by my retired Coast Guard husband. They learn how to sew in the Coast Guard!

The Day

Today I worked, all day long. Then I drove across the river to Portland, and mailed all my packages to Canada. The Portland Airport post office is handy when one misses their local PO deadline.

I had enough time to spend 15 minutes at a nearby Michaels before it closed. I purchased the Martha Stewart Monarch butterfly punch. As I told my husband, "it's a must have." This is my first butterfly punch. I got a package of Recollections baby roses in various shades of purple and a package of Tim Holtz blending foam pads. I know you can make these with make-up sponges but I haven't been able to find anything but the wedge shaped sponges. And I picked up an Inkadinkado stamp set called Games. It was clearanced to $3.99.

Oh, and I also had some color copies made, picked up the snow dog's Rimadyl prescription, picked up my son at school and then drove to his girlfriend's house to pick her up so she could hang out here for a few hours.

And that was my day :)~

H is For .... Hanna

I purchased this plain wood H and painted it pink. The pink was too bright, so I added some white paint and then did the crackle effect on top of that. The H was about eight inches tall.

This was a Sweet Sixteen birthday gift for a classmate of my son's. We also gave her a gift certificate to a bath and body shop. When I approached my son about my creating part of her gift, he agreed BUT only on the condition that it never be made known I had made it. Apparently having your mother make a gift is embarrassing on many different levels.

Of course Hanna's mother figured it out once I began to ask her questions about her daughter's style and favorite colors. She promised she would never tell, and the official story is I ordered this from an online seller, who created it to fit Hanna's taste.

My son is happy (delusional, but happy), I am happy, and most importantly, I hope Hanna is happy!