Tag Archives: parenting

Thanks to… (Day 2)

Today’s assignment is to appreciate things people have taught me in life.

Thanks to Charlotte who taught me what it feels like to be a grandmother.

Thanks to Boaz who taught me how to let go.

Thanks to Lydia who taught me to love unconditionally.

Thanks to Tony who taught me to endure difficulty and remain compassionate.

Thanks to David who taught me how to relax and love again.

 

The lady at the front desk – a poem

jail cell

The lady at the front desk

has an accent I can’t place.

Bright red dyed hair glows

like something radioactive.

She scolds the fact that I am on time;

early is the only acceptable number.

Words spit like machine gun fire –

bullet proof glass protects her from reprisal.

Woman number two attacks, actually

leaves her booth to eviscerate my daughter’s wardrobe.

My glare the only weapon I have;

she knows she has all the power.

Our true crime –

being related to my son.

He awaits our visit behind a clear wall,

his voice distant through the jailhouse phone.

He rolls his eyes as I explain the

reason his sister cannot visit.

Shorts too short, probably influenced

by the blue hair and tattoos.

We talk openly of the evil guards,

hope they’re listening in.

Corruption abounds, secret rules,

a cesspool of human indecency.

We wax simplistic on the meaning of life

and whether or not God sends dreams.

Black holes, the beginning of time,

alternate realities, expansion of the universe.

The mother in me wonders if other mothers

talk of such things when they visit their sons in jail.

A piece of trash sits on the floor

unmoved since my visit last week.

Even the air is oppressive,

cold hard metal the most comfort offered.

Another mother and I

ride the elevator down to the ground.

We talk like old friends of everything

except our sons, guilty with relief of leaving.

The fluorescent red-head plops my license into the metal indention

so no actual human interaction has to occur.

No eye contact, no goodbye, no apology

for making a horrible situation even worse.

The workers look miserable, underpaid, imprisoned

within the same walls as the people they guard.

My daughter posts a selfie as she flips off the jail –

and the women who cannot see her from the safety of outside.

I am irritated by her silent vulgar rebellion,

and maybe a little proud that she is my daughter.

-Rebekah J. Marshall

visitation

Playing Nurse

evil nurse

Everyone around me is sick – my fiance, my daughter, my granddaughter…even my cat.  I kid you not, two kids threw up in my classroom today.  Germs are having a heyday right now for some reason.  Hopefully, my body has recuperated from my last illness enough to fight off these latest bugs.  It must be a variety of illnesses, because everyone’s symptoms are different.  Some of them have sore throats, congestion, fever.  Others have laryngitis, bloodshot eyes, lack of appetite. Then there are those throw-uppers.  What’s that about?

Needless to say, I find myself suddenly in the role of nurse…not my finest hour.  There is a reason I did not go into the medical profession.  Whatever that spark of empathy is that medical personnel have that makes them want to help people with snotty noses, whimpering in pain, or vomiting their guts out…I did not get that gene.  I was not the cookies and kisses and booboo bunny kind of mom with my kids.  They went to their dad for that nurturing.  I was the “you’re not bleeding, you’re ok, can you bend it?, here’s some ice, please make it to the toilet next time” kind of parent. It meant I was calm in a crisis and could get them to the emergency room if need be while their dad was paralyzed by empathetic grief-pain, but it never endeared me to anyone as a good nurse.

I’m trying to do better.  I made my fiance dinner (which he did not eat despite repeatedly saying he was hungry and needed nourishment).  I offered to take his puppy Aiko to get her shots so he wouldn’t wear himself out.  He refused and took her, wore himself out, and could barely crawl back into bed.  I had to practically force my daughter to let me take her to the doctor because she was beginning to look like a skeleton, had eaten nothing in days, and was not getting better.  She wanted to just stay in bed and get progressively worse until she shriveled up and died…despite the fact that she is nursing my granddaughter and kind of needs to live.

That is when it hit me.  I can’t nurse well because people suck at being patients.  You are suppose to do what the nurse says, take your medicine, drink your fluids, stay in bed, and follow doctor’s orders.  I get sick a lot and deal with chronic pain, fibromyalgia, arthritis, injuries (due to clumsiness and overdoing it) and I am a very good patient.  I take every last dose of antibiotics if (GOD forbid) I am prescribed them.  I do every last painful stretch or exercise any physical therapist assigns me.  Even when I was at my worst and had to go to the hospital with food poisoning, they were surprised that I only needed one bag of fluids.  A nurse told me to push fluids, so I continued drinking even though every single sip was torture.  I follow directions.  I can’t help these people get well.  I can’t fix their ailments.  I guess all I can do is try to offer some comfort.

My fiance wants to know what I am doing right this second.  He said he wants me to come hold him while he sleeps.  Um…we are going to have to find a compromise.  This nurse might be able to offer a foot rub.  Then I’ve got to get back to my real imaginary job…writing.

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Babies, babies, everywhere…

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I just had the pleasure of feeding my granddaughter Charlotte peas for the first time.  She did the stank face babies do when it is a flavor they are not expecting.  At my feet the whole time writhing in excitement was our puppy Aiko.  She could tell something big was going down and wanted in on it, especially if it involved food.  The ensuing mess had to culminate in a bath as peas made their way into every possible crevice.

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After being lathered in coconut oil, some milk from Mama, and a little coaxing, Charlotte settled in for a nice nap.  Aiko decided that was the perfect way to pass some time herself.

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So the house is quiet, the babies are resting, and I have a few minutes to write.  My daughter is sick with a cold and is taking showers and naps to recuperate.  It feels good to be able to help out. My own health has gotten in the way of doing the things I love lately, but today is a good day.  I am perfectly content at this moment.  All is right with my world.