Tonight Lilah and I had to run to Holiday Market for steaks before I could start dinner preparations. Getting out of the house if I'm not taking Lilah is heartbreaking. She has to be held by someone else while I put on my coat and grab my purse, kiss her and tell her I love her, and leave to screams of, "Mama!" I'll be honest. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from tearing up every time. Getting out of the house if I am taking Lilah is taxing. I still have to go through all of the same steps, only instead of someone else holding her, that someone else is putting on her coat and shoes while she cries and frantically whips her head around, trying to keep me in sight at all times. When she's finally released, she runs to me and motions with her little hands. "C'mere, Mama." Then all is well once she's strapped in and she realizes she's coming along.
So we were in the car. Holiday is literally a couple miles from the house. The trip should have taken me 30 minutes if I dawdled. It took over an hour. I had barely gotten onto Woodward Avenue when cars slowed to a snail's pace. Lilah looked at me like I was insane as I shouted at the other drivers. There was a flurry of snow, but it was far from The Day After Tomorrow, and I had a dinner to make. We finally made it without incident.
We picked up two lemons, which Lilah correctly identified. We got baby bellas and she held them momentarily, looking important, before handing them to me. "Here, Mama." We grabbed an unassuming bag of sharp cheddar, and made our way to the meat counter. Lilah looked mildly abandoned when I left the cart to get a number. When our number came, I had a brief chat with the helpful woman who assisted us in choosing two big, delicious-looking steaks. One of the nice things about having a small family is that we can have dinners that would otherwise be very expensive, but for the three of us, dinner cost a total of 12 dollars to prepare with all the sides included. The steaks were on special for 5.99 a pound, and I was happy. Lilah was indifferent other than to periodically declare, "I need it," and point to random cuts of meat.
(For those of you who aren't around her regularly, "I need it" is the bane of our existence. When she was tiny and would frequently snatch things she shouldn't have, I was wary of snatching them right back and saying, "No!" Logically, this would only set the example for her to take things from us and say, "No!" In theory, I was correct. The biggest lesson I have learned so far as a mother is that theory sounds lovely, but practice is usually an entirely different thing altogether. In this case, I would take things gently but firmly from Lilah, smile, and tell her, "I need it. Thanks!" Today, Lilah will very confidently walk up to whatever catches her fancy, either take or point to it, and say, "I need it," and relieve its owner of whatever it is. Most people are so shocked they have no idea how to respond. I curse the day I started "I need it.")
After we were finished with all our shopping, I took Lilah to the bakery department. I'm sure you've all seen the sad displays at Kroger bakery with the sloppy-looking cupcakes, dried out cookies, and occasional cake with spray painted colors. This is nothing like that. It's professional pastry chefs making gorgeous desserts that look too beautiful to eat. Almost. After sitting through shopping at Holiday, Lilah is always allowed to go to the bakery and choose a treat from behind the glass. Anything she likes. After picking up our steaks, I told her it was time to go get her treat. "Treeeeeeat!" She started bouncing. "Yep! Should we get you a cookie? (Considering) A cake? (Grinning) What about a pie or a cupcake? (Clapping and squealing). Let's go see what they have today." We started at the cupcake section, and she did continue to shout, "I need it!" She didn't seem too taken with anything though. We passed the tortes and pies, and were moving on to the chocolate strawberries, petits fours, and cakes when she started having what appeared to be some sort of seizure and saying, "C'mere, Mama!" I saw what she was writhing her entire body at, and it was a pretty little fruit tart. It was just her size, filled with vanilla custard, and topped with pineapple slices and all her favorite berries. She'd found her treat. The woman who boxed it up nicely in a clear plastic case was so taken by Lilah's angelic grins and excited wiggling. "You must have been a very good girl. This is your treat, hmm?" Lilah was smiling so much you couldn't see her eyes. I handed her the clear box and started to wheel toward the checkout.
"Open it, Mama?" I gave a quick explanation of the many reasons we couldn't open it just yet. She blinked at me. "We have to go home so you can sit in your seat and eat it." She looked at me like she knew I was full of it. There was no magical setting to eating a confection like this. You ate it as soon as someone handed it to you, as fast as possible, in case someone tried to take it away from you. Period. I handed it to the cashier to scan and she dissolved into panic. He promptly handed it back and rang it up manually. We got into the car and I made the fatal mistake of popping a blackberry into her mouth to quiet her until we got home. She swallowed it nearly whole and said, "More?"
It took us almost 20 minutes just to get home with the way people were driving. She pried at the box with her little fingers, shook it (delicately), looked it over from all angles, and tried all manner of passwords. "Open it? Please? More? Open it. I need it. Please more. I'm hungry. What is it? MAMA!" The latter was the most frequent. I answered in whatever way I thought she would buy for a moment.
"Daddy has to help you open it."
"No. Mine." Clever girl, Dano would take a huge bite for sure if he "helped".
"You have to sit in your seat at the table to eat it." She gave me the same, "That's bullshit, Mama" look. "We're almost home." She mostly insisted loudly that the box be opened for her. 6 blocks from home, she said, "Here, Mama." I honestly thought she was handing it to me to keep until we got home. As soon as I had it, she said, "Open it. Open it, Mama. Please. I'm hungry." (Lilah's "I'm hungry" translates to "There is something I want to eat". It has nothing to do with actual hunger.) I decided to make a big show of trying to open it, hoping to buy myself those last 6 blocks. 2 blocks later, Lilah thought she'd been tricked and dissolved into tears. I wavered between wondering if I'd be giving into a fit, or if I should give it to her because I really had attempted to fool her and she was too smart for it to work. I opened it and handed it to her. Utter silence in the back seat. 2 blocks to go. I glanced back to make sure she wasn't dead. Smears of custard everywhere, not a piece of fruit in sight other than the fat blackberry I saw between her lips for a millisecond before it disappeared. She was a mess, too. I groaned. She grinned and made short work of the cookie tart base. We pulled in and Dano peered in the window.
After a look at my face, "What happened? Was she bad?" I pointed to the back seat. "Oh God."
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Unprecedented, and likely unnecessary
I never publicly share stories from work even though millions of interesting and amusing events go on every day. I work under a strict set of privacy and confidentiality policies and I usually just steer clear from inviting the general population into my work life out of convenience for myself and protection for my patients. However, the events that unfolded this evening were so wildly amusing to me that I simply had to share. I will keep it as anonymous as possible.
It started with a toad and a nun.
I had completed approximately 96% of my work and to be honest, I was fully planning on settling in behind my desk and tucking in to the book I'd brought along - "A House Like a Lotus". I sunk into my chair to take a sip of my cherry coke, planning to get up momentarily to fetch my book from my purse. I heard a sound that instantaneously dredged up panic, annoyance, irritation, and dismay. Those emotions all culminated and exited my body in one frustrated groan. The sound I'd heard was a high-pitched, whiny croak.
"Nuuuuurse!" A small, bug-eyed face peered over the desk. Imagine a person shaped exactly like a large, fat toad. Warts. Large glassy orbs for eyes. Stubby extremities. Flapping frown for a mouth that was reminiscent of Beeker from the Muppets. This patient gets on my nerves more than any other. She's always whining and crying for random items of food. This night was no exception. "Do you have any caaakes?" I took a deep breath, then another for good measure.
"No, no cakes. I have a sandwich here if you want it."
"Caaakes?"
"No. No cakes. Sandwich." Me - waving it about to prove it existed.
"Sammmweeech?" I nodded and started to unwrap it from the plastic wrap. "Meat sammmweeech?"
"No. It's peanut butter. It's all I have though." She started to cry big, salty tears and I was chewing on the inside of my lip.
"Caaakes! Sammweeech!" I tried to convince her to go back to her room, that she wouldn't die from starvation, that there are worse things in the world than having to eat a peanut butter sandwich. I felt a headache coming on when I saw one of my aides wheeling a chair down to me. I died a little inside.
We have several nuns at our facility. This particular Sister was an Irish nun most of her life but was sent to us when the facility where nuns and priests go to retire (who knew there was even such a place? It was "somewhere down-river," another nurse had informed me with a general wave of her arm to point out the facility's location in the universe) had decided she was too...spirited for them to handle. Lucky, lucky me.
"She won't stay in her chair and we're trying to do rounds. Are you busy?"
My brain, attempting to salvage what was left of my alone time - "Yes! YES! For God's sake, someone is coding! Get me a crash cart! Sister will have to fend for herself!"
My mouth, bidding farewell to my relaxing evening - "No...I guess I can keep an eye on her..." All my happy feelings were dead. A fiery smile beamed out from Sister's wizened face. She was thin, short, and basically an adorable old woman in a carefoam chair (think recliner with taller sides). She looked quite demure with a plaid handmade blanket in her lap with her name embroidered on it. Hands folded in lap. Quiet. "I can do this," I told myself. I took her from the aide and parked the chair in front of my desk. There was an alarm in the chair that would sound if she tried to get up (she was too weak to walk on her own). I was sure that was enough. I sat down behind the desk again and opened the cover of "A House Like a Lotus", savoring the smell of the old library book. Alarm sounding. Sister had somewhere to be.
"Sit down please, Sister. I don't want you to fall."
"Thanks be to God." And she sat down. She started to fiddle with her blanket and reach for invisible things on the floor. The more busy she became, the more the alarm would sound. I gave her something for agitation and took her to the quiet lobby away from the unit, figuring maybe a change of scenery would calm her. I parked her chair in its most reclined position, hoping against hope that her meds would kick in and she wouldn't be strong enough to get out on her own. I handed her a book and she appeared interested. I sighed and opened my book again, admiring the lotus design on the chapter heading, thinking perhaps it would make a good tattoo. I casually glanced over the top of the book at Sister, who was being very quiet. I saw a a great deal of nudity and jumped up, book falling to the floor. Her gown was neatly folded on the table next to her and she was working hard on removing the knee-high stockings she was wearing.
"Sister! You have to keep your clothes on! You can't be naked in the lobby."
"Oh heavens, no. Thanks be to God." Then something in Gaelic. I worked her wiry limbs back into her gown and tied it in two places with many knots. 'They'll have to cut her out of this in the morning, but I don't care,' I told myself. I sat back down and picked up my poor book off the floor. After reading a few words, the alarm in her chair sounded again. She had the gown completely off except for not being able to pull it over her head due to the many knots. I put her arms back in the sleeves and tucked under her body. Went back to my book for several minutes. Peered over the top. She had instantly, silently removed the Sherpa fleece-like cover from the entire chair (yes, the same chair she was sitting in) and was wearing the cover like a cloak. I could only see her tiny face. The gown was off and folded on the table. I put my book away for good. After I got her all settled again, I decided to stop being selfish and try talking to her.
"Sister, where were you born?"
"Éire."
"What city?"
"Dublin."
"You speak Irish then? Gaelic?" She nodded. "Any other languages? I imagine you know a great deal of Latin." She laughed in a fashion that let me know she was, indeed, laughing at me. She nodded, then the rest of what she said was in Gaelic. She set about trying to escape the chair and strip, simultaneously. I was getting a little panicky. The only words I knew in Gaelic were 'Pangur Ban' from the movie Secret of Kells that Lilah watches incessantly and I knew it meant 'pure white' or 'bright white' but that was hardly a conversation starter. I feebly hummed a few lines of a Gaelic song from the movie, hoping to God it was some deeply moving melody from her childhood in Dublin and we could share a moment while she drifted off into a happy sleep. She raised a white eyebrow at me and started praying in Latin. I didn't take that as encouragement to sing and fell silent again. Another nurse happened along after over an hour of my failed attempts to keep her calm and still. I'm sure we were a sight. Me with my head in my hands next to a half-naked nun.
"Hi, Sister! How are you this evening?" Sister smiled at her, the perfect hybrid smile of devil, child, and saint. The nurse looked at me. "Is she full of it tonight?" I nodded. "The best way to get her to settle down is to put a bedside table in front of her with a snack and a drink on it. That keeps her busy and she doesn't try to climb out of the chair and get hurt with the table there. Her favorite is a peanut butter sandwich." I felt like all of Heaven's angels were singing a celestial chorus about peanut butter sandwiches. I thanked God and every saint I could think of that the Toad hadn't made off with the lone peanut butter sandwich on the unit. I set Sister up with her snack and she ate it. When she was finished (amazingly, still fully clothed), she looked at me, chuckled, then drifted off to sleep.
It started with a toad and a nun.
I had completed approximately 96% of my work and to be honest, I was fully planning on settling in behind my desk and tucking in to the book I'd brought along - "A House Like a Lotus". I sunk into my chair to take a sip of my cherry coke, planning to get up momentarily to fetch my book from my purse. I heard a sound that instantaneously dredged up panic, annoyance, irritation, and dismay. Those emotions all culminated and exited my body in one frustrated groan. The sound I'd heard was a high-pitched, whiny croak.
"Nuuuuurse!" A small, bug-eyed face peered over the desk. Imagine a person shaped exactly like a large, fat toad. Warts. Large glassy orbs for eyes. Stubby extremities. Flapping frown for a mouth that was reminiscent of Beeker from the Muppets. This patient gets on my nerves more than any other. She's always whining and crying for random items of food. This night was no exception. "Do you have any caaakes?" I took a deep breath, then another for good measure.
"No, no cakes. I have a sandwich here if you want it."
"Caaakes?"
"No. No cakes. Sandwich." Me - waving it about to prove it existed.
"Sammmweeech?" I nodded and started to unwrap it from the plastic wrap. "Meat sammmweeech?"
"No. It's peanut butter. It's all I have though." She started to cry big, salty tears and I was chewing on the inside of my lip.
"Caaakes! Sammweeech!" I tried to convince her to go back to her room, that she wouldn't die from starvation, that there are worse things in the world than having to eat a peanut butter sandwich. I felt a headache coming on when I saw one of my aides wheeling a chair down to me. I died a little inside.
We have several nuns at our facility. This particular Sister was an Irish nun most of her life but was sent to us when the facility where nuns and priests go to retire (who knew there was even such a place? It was "somewhere down-river," another nurse had informed me with a general wave of her arm to point out the facility's location in the universe) had decided she was too...spirited for them to handle. Lucky, lucky me.
"She won't stay in her chair and we're trying to do rounds. Are you busy?"
"Sit down please, Sister. I don't want you to fall."
"Thanks be to God." And she sat down. She started to fiddle with her blanket and reach for invisible things on the floor. The more busy she became, the more the alarm would sound. I gave her something for agitation and took her to the quiet lobby away from the unit, figuring maybe a change of scenery would calm her. I parked her chair in its most reclined position, hoping against hope that her meds would kick in and she wouldn't be strong enough to get out on her own. I handed her a book and she appeared interested. I sighed and opened my book again, admiring the lotus design on the chapter heading, thinking perhaps it would make a good tattoo. I casually glanced over the top of the book at Sister, who was being very quiet. I saw a a great deal of nudity and jumped up, book falling to the floor. Her gown was neatly folded on the table next to her and she was working hard on removing the knee-high stockings she was wearing.
"Sister! You have to keep your clothes on! You can't be naked in the lobby."
"Oh heavens, no. Thanks be to God." Then something in Gaelic. I worked her wiry limbs back into her gown and tied it in two places with many knots. 'They'll have to cut her out of this in the morning, but I don't care,' I told myself. I sat back down and picked up my poor book off the floor. After reading a few words, the alarm in her chair sounded again. She had the gown completely off except for not being able to pull it over her head due to the many knots. I put her arms back in the sleeves and tucked under her body. Went back to my book for several minutes. Peered over the top. She had instantly, silently removed the Sherpa fleece-like cover from the entire chair (yes, the same chair she was sitting in) and was wearing the cover like a cloak. I could only see her tiny face. The gown was off and folded on the table. I put my book away for good. After I got her all settled again, I decided to stop being selfish and try talking to her.
"Sister, where were you born?"
"Éire."
"What city?"
"Dublin."
"You speak Irish then? Gaelic?" She nodded. "Any other languages? I imagine you know a great deal of Latin." She laughed in a fashion that let me know she was, indeed, laughing at me. She nodded, then the rest of what she said was in Gaelic. She set about trying to escape the chair and strip, simultaneously. I was getting a little panicky. The only words I knew in Gaelic were 'Pangur Ban' from the movie Secret of Kells that Lilah watches incessantly and I knew it meant 'pure white' or 'bright white' but that was hardly a conversation starter. I feebly hummed a few lines of a Gaelic song from the movie, hoping to God it was some deeply moving melody from her childhood in Dublin and we could share a moment while she drifted off into a happy sleep. She raised a white eyebrow at me and started praying in Latin. I didn't take that as encouragement to sing and fell silent again. Another nurse happened along after over an hour of my failed attempts to keep her calm and still. I'm sure we were a sight. Me with my head in my hands next to a half-naked nun.
"Hi, Sister! How are you this evening?" Sister smiled at her, the perfect hybrid smile of devil, child, and saint. The nurse looked at me. "Is she full of it tonight?" I nodded. "The best way to get her to settle down is to put a bedside table in front of her with a snack and a drink on it. That keeps her busy and she doesn't try to climb out of the chair and get hurt with the table there. Her favorite is a peanut butter sandwich." I felt like all of Heaven's angels were singing a celestial chorus about peanut butter sandwiches. I thanked God and every saint I could think of that the Toad hadn't made off with the lone peanut butter sandwich on the unit. I set Sister up with her snack and she ate it. When she was finished (amazingly, still fully clothed), she looked at me, chuckled, then drifted off to sleep.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Cabin Fever
I think everyone in the house has a case of cabin fever .Not the fun kind, like in Muppet Treasure Island. A legitimate case, like the kind a doctor would diagnose. This winter hasn't been really the kind to get out and play in. It's either bitterly cold and windy, or soupy and wet. There have only been a few actual snowy, winter days.
The only time Lilah has been out to play in the snow was when we were visiting Dano's parents in the UP. It took an unexaggerated 15 minutes to dress her. Snow pants, hat, mittens, boots, coat. By the time we were done, she was complaining at us. "All done!" My mother's heart beamed at me. "Remember this. This is a moment." I proudly sent her out into my in-law's backyard with her daddy. I was ready, camera in hand, for what promised to be a series of Kodak moments. Dano set to work making her a perfect snowman. She stood in the snow, looking decidedly bewildered. It started raining. The snow was gloopy and it was far too warm out for her 8 pounds of winter attire. I stood on the porch with my FlipShare with what I'm sure was a very confused look on my face. Dano was trudging through the soggy white mess, pushing what was trying hard to be a snowball. He set it aside when it was about as tall as Lilah and set to work on another smaller one. Then he attempted to place the smaller snowball on top of the bigger one. It was so wet and heavy, it fell straight through the middle of the bottom snowball. He stared at it. Lilah (whose nose was getting more red by the minute) looked back and forth between the "snowman" (i.e. mound of slush), Dano, and me. Dano picked her up and sat her on the failed snowman.
"It's more of a throne." Lilah flailed her stiff little arms about.
"All done!" She made it approximately 7 minutes. She came in and had cocoa.
I took her yesterday to Barnes and Noble to play in the children's area. Lilah always has fun there. She met a little blonde boy named Max. They played with trains and she ran around looking at books. She didn't find any she couldn't live without this time. I attempted to read Endless Nights but never got beyond the first few pages. Lilah always has many questions and comments. She loves looking out the high windows of the second flood and watching the busy Royal Oak streets below. "Hi cars!" We had a good time.
Other than little trips like that, I'm not sure what else to do with the child. She's losing it indoors. And I'm losing it trying to keep her busy.
The only time Lilah has been out to play in the snow was when we were visiting Dano's parents in the UP. It took an unexaggerated 15 minutes to dress her. Snow pants, hat, mittens, boots, coat. By the time we were done, she was complaining at us. "All done!" My mother's heart beamed at me. "Remember this. This is a moment." I proudly sent her out into my in-law's backyard with her daddy. I was ready, camera in hand, for what promised to be a series of Kodak moments. Dano set to work making her a perfect snowman. She stood in the snow, looking decidedly bewildered. It started raining. The snow was gloopy and it was far too warm out for her 8 pounds of winter attire. I stood on the porch with my FlipShare with what I'm sure was a very confused look on my face. Dano was trudging through the soggy white mess, pushing what was trying hard to be a snowball. He set it aside when it was about as tall as Lilah and set to work on another smaller one. Then he attempted to place the smaller snowball on top of the bigger one. It was so wet and heavy, it fell straight through the middle of the bottom snowball. He stared at it. Lilah (whose nose was getting more red by the minute) looked back and forth between the "snowman" (i.e. mound of slush), Dano, and me. Dano picked her up and sat her on the failed snowman.
"It's more of a throne." Lilah flailed her stiff little arms about.
"All done!" She made it approximately 7 minutes. She came in and had cocoa.
I took her yesterday to Barnes and Noble to play in the children's area. Lilah always has fun there. She met a little blonde boy named Max. They played with trains and she ran around looking at books. She didn't find any she couldn't live without this time. I attempted to read Endless Nights but never got beyond the first few pages. Lilah always has many questions and comments. She loves looking out the high windows of the second flood and watching the busy Royal Oak streets below. "Hi cars!" We had a good time.
Other than little trips like that, I'm not sure what else to do with the child. She's losing it indoors. And I'm losing it trying to keep her busy.
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