A Good Day

Today is a good day. It's the middle of February, but the sun is shining and the temps are near 70. The windows are open for crissake. I took a long walk this morning. Olive and I listened and danced to Taylor Swift during lunch. "Mommy, wipe my hands and face so I can dance!" she said. All that dancing wore her out, because she's currently taking a nap (a somewhat rare occurrence these days). I'm still feeling good after long-overdue drinks (Long Island iced teas, no less) with Stephanie last night, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow's lunch plans with Lindsay. Milo will be home from school in about 30 minutes, and I want to give that sweet kid a big hug. We'll play outside in the sunshine. Then I'm thinking yoga this evening while Andrew takes the kids to Milo's tumbling class. Yes, a good day.

Private

After months of considering it (but taking no action), I finally decided to make this blog private. As of this writing, I have zero readers. If anyone notices it is private, they can request access. I'm planning to limit it to family and maybe a few close friends. Not that anyone else was reading it to begin with. But as my kids get older, I'm worried about sharing too much about them. I don't want their friends searching their names and reading about their struggles. I don't know if I want them to find this blog and read about themselves. Maybe in 10 years or so. I also have a lot on my mind that I want to get out, but I don't necessarily want the world to read it. I don't know if I want my family to read it to be honest, but I need the support, I think.

For having so little to do, my life feels awfully complex right now. I left Hallmark about a year and a half ago. While I think it was a good decision, and I'm glad to have gotten to know my kids so much better, I've been struggling lately with my situation. I'm getting bored. I'm often dissatisfied. I miss having tasks and deadlines and things to challenge me. I'm not a great housekeeper, so cleaning up and washing clothes does not give me any pleasure. I only feel stress about the clutter and dirty carpets. I try to play pretend games with Olive, but I can only act like her baby doll is sick for so long. There are things I want to do--paint a picture to put on the mantel, start a nature photography project, learn embroidery--but they all seem so insignificant, not to mention difficult to accomplish while spending my days with the kids. 

I know that something needs to change. My frustrations spill out on the kids, and it's not fair to them. The problem is that I don't know how to change things. I want to spend more time with my friends and go on more dates with Andrew. I want something meaningful to do. So much easier said than done.

UPDATED: J/K. The blog is public again. Because reasons.

Vacation!

Last week, Milo had Thursday and Friday off school, so the Langfords decided to take a mini-vacation to Branson. We've traveled quite a bit with our families, and we've visited friends, but we've never taken a trip with just the four of us--something we've looked forward to doing for a long time.

The days leading up to the trip were less than promising. Everyone had been or was feeling sick. The day before, I was so ill I really didn't have the energy to pack anything or prep in any way. This is so against my personality, I had a headache and eye tick all day as a result. There was also a lot of rain in the forecast, so I was doubting our decision to go at all. But Andrew convinced me all would be well, and (spoiler alert) it was.

We stayed in a cute little cabin in an RV park. It had a great loft area where the kids slept, and they loved the ladder. Nervous about coming down the ladder the first time or two, but then they were just making random trips up and down for kicks. The RV park had a tiny playground too, with one of those double swings where the kids sit back to back. They laughed and swung for a solid 30 minutes.

Since we had to pack nearly everything in the morning of our departure, we didn't arrive in Branson until about 2:30pm. We had time for a quick snack and a stop by the cabin to drop off our stuff (and kill all the wasps) before heading to Dixie Stampede.

(Oh, you want more of the wasp story? Basically, when we walked up to the front door of the cabin, I noticed a wasp inside the window. I told Andrew, asked him to try to kill it before the kids saw. Well. Turns out that wasp was not alone. All told, there were probably ten or more wasps just hanging out in the cabin. Needless to say, the kids noticed. We got wasp spray from the office, and sprayed the hell out the cabin. Then we left so the poison could dissipate, and went to our show. We didn't see another wasp the whole time.)

The kids loved Dixie Stampede. The pre-show juggling was only okay (Andrew and I thought it was cool though), but they enjoyed the horses, the costumes, the singing, and the fact that we got to eat while watching the show. Milo ate nearly his whole chicken, and Olive ate the inside "no crust" part of her biscuit.

 

Day 2 was our full day at Silver Dollar City. We arrived there a little before they opened, around 9:45. We stayed until they closed at 6:00pm. The kids were exhausted, and so were we, but we all had a great time. It's so fun to see the kids enjoying the rides and being so excited. Their favorite ride was the green roller coaster, a small kids coaster that they rode several times. Milo was proud because this was one where he was tall enough to ride without a grown-up. It wasn't crowded at all, so there weren't any lines, and we got to ride everything more than once. Except Fire in the Hole. The kids HATED Fire in the Hole. Passionately.

We ate delicious cinnamon rolls, potato-and-sausage hash and root beer floats (for the grown-ups), corn dogs and chicken tenders (for the kids), a cookie as big as your face, and salt water taffy. We walked about 13,000 steps. And we slept hard that night.

When we left the park, we ate dinner at this super yummy pizza place called Mr. G's. Loved it there, wish we could have stayed a little longer to enjoy the ambiance, the wine, and the Royals ALCS championship game, but the kids were exhausted and beyond ready for bed. (Royals won, BTW--on to the World Series!)

On Saturday, we went to the fish hatchery and learned about that. Kids got to feed the fish, which wasn't quite as exciting as feeding the goats or sheep at the zoo. From there, we went to Top of the Rock. We didn't have time, really, to fully explore the place or take the tours, so we just wandered a bit and had lunch at Arnie's Barn. Very tasty food, and an even better view. I'd love to go there on a grown-ups only night and enjoy some drinks on the patio next to the fireplace.

From there, we headed up to Springfield to visit our friends Katie, Eli, and their almost-three-year-old, Oliver. Kid-sized Jeeps were driven in the backyard, cats were chased, delicious food was eaten, and fun was had by all.

It was a wonderful trip. And the best parts? No one got sick and it didn't rain at all. Can't wait until we can take another vacation together.

Unlikely

Milo's homework instructed him to draw three bears: one large bear, one medium bear, and one small bear. He read the instructions, then asked me, "Does 'B-E-A-R' spell 'bear,' or 'beer'? I'm just not sure which one that spells."

I said that it spelled "bear" and that it I didn't think his kindergarten teacher would ask him to draw pictures of beer because it's a grown-up thing. I kind of wish he hadn't asked me and just assumed it was "beer." What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall as his teacher saw those drawings.

Super Eclipse

Last night we kept the kids up late to watch the lunar eclipse. But not just any lunar eclipse. This was a Super Moon Eclipse Of Wonder, meaning the moon was as close to earth as it ever gets. I think I read on Twitter that it only happens every 18 years, maybe? And the eclipse was happening from around 8:15 - 10:00, with the peak in the 9:30 range, so it wasn't obscenely late.

Of course, I was fascinated and could have stayed out all night watching the moon, but the kids were BORED. And TIRED. Milo kept whining and restlessly wiggling around. Olive sat on my lap and could barely hold her head up. Neither seemed to care much about the moon. But hey, we did our parent-y duty and showed them this awesome bit of science.

One of the highlights was seeing a shooting star right next to the moon (in our line of vision; I know it wasn't technically right next to the moon) as the eclipse was nearly full. So cool. Neither kids saw it, obviously. Another highlight was watching the whole thing at Stan and Marilyn's house. They have bats living nearby, which means hardly any mosquitoes. Plus, Marilyn made us decaf coffee with Bailey's, and that's a win in my book any day.

Sad stuff

Well. Today did not go the way I expected it to. But I suppose nothing ever does, does it? Milo's in kindergarten, and Olive had preschool today, so I planned to spend my free morning sipping coffee, maybe do some gardening (ok, ok, I was going to dump out some dead plants from the pots. "Gardening" might be pushing it.), maybe read my book, maybe go for a walk. Really intense stuff, right? Instead, I got a text from my MIL. She said that her dad had contracted pneumonia, and would probably only live another day or two (he was already on hospice), and would Andrew and I be able to help her move out his furniture if he passed?

Of course, I said. And can I do anything for you now, bring you coffee or something? She and Angie, her stepmother, both accepted my offer of Starbucks, so I headed out for lattes and over to the nursing home. I had only been there a few minutes when he took his last breath. Loved ones of mine have passed away before, but I've never been there to see it. I wasn't even particularly close to John, but it's been a shock to my system to witness the death. I hope I was a comfort to Sarah and Angie, and not in the way. I'm sure they didn't expect me to be there for those last moments, either, and I felt like a bit of an outsider.

We had told the kids a couple weeks ago that John was sick, and that Nana was feeling sad about it. So today I had to explain to them that Nana's dad had died. And then spend forever discussing death, getting old, burials, cremation, and how we miss people when they die. I held it together until about the third hour of these talks, when I was trying to explain what cremation was to a five year old. Then I just sort of gave up, told them to please play outside because Mommy wasn't feeling too good and needed to lie down.

Then Daddy got home, I drank some wine, and he took the kids to the playground. My thoughts tonight are with Angie, Sarah, and the rest of the family. I wish there was more I could do than bring pumpkin spice lattes. Rest in peace, John.

So Proud

Last night Milo had his first tumbling class. It's at the same studio that Olive goes to for her ballet/tumbling combo class, but his is an all-boys class. I was not at all convinced that he would like it or really wanted to be there. I thought he just asked to take tumbling because he wanted to do SOMETHING, and maybe soccer wasn't his favorite.

But after several requests and the start of the 2015-2016 session looming, I signed him up. So glad I did. He loved it. He tried everything, even when things didn't immediately come easy. Somersaults, bear walking, feet-together jumping, stretching. He listened and followed instructions. He talked nicely to the teacher and the other boys. And as I watched him, I saw his little smile, just for him. His I'm-so-proud-of-me smile. His yes-I-can-do-it smile. And I know he was proud of himself. And I know I was proud of him, too.

(Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been over a year since I blogged. Let's not make a big deal about it, eh? I know it is impossible to catch up on the stuff I missed (like Olive's entire life, basically) but since I already can't remember half the things that took place in the last year, I figured there's no time like the present to start this thing up again.)

Glad that didn't happen the first time

I had my second eye vision-correction surgery today. Aaaannd...it was worse than the first time. I asked for more drugs, but it still didn't do much for me. When they taped my head down, it was at a really weird angle and it was making me freak out. So I asked them to fix it, and they did, but I was still a little frantic from then on. Then when he said my vision was going to fade out, it did--but only really briefly. This time I could kinda see everything happening. I saw the doctor's hand coming toward my face holding an instrument, and saw the lens slide across my eye, and it was all too clear and way too disconcerting. When it was over, I was crying. Might have been crying during the whole thing, but I'm really not sure. It was just sort of awful.

*Warning: there are some squeamish parts coming up.*

I went home and got a little rest, but all too soon it was time to go back for my follow-up check. As soon as we walked out the door to get in the car, I started feeling really sick. Very nauseous and hot. I couldn't get enough air. I was pretty sure I was going to throw up, but I really didn't want to do that because they had told me before that vomiting was bad right after surgery because of the pressure it puts on your eye. I tried very hard to stay calm.

We got there, I felt extremely shaky and sick for the five or so minutes we were in the waiting room. I made Andrew go back with me to the exam room. They did a pressure check, and within a minute the surgeon was there in the room, poking me in the eye with a sharp thingy. Basically, fluid was building up in my eye, the pressure was way too high, and it was making me sick. Must get fluid out and pressure down.

Let me just say, the eye poking was not fun. They had given me a numbing drop, but it did not seem very effective. So I tried not to throw up while also trying not to freak out about the sharp thing poking my eyeball. The sharp thing turned out not to be enough, so the doc actually hustled me upstairs to shoot a little laser in my eye to relieve the pressure. That also was not fun. I think in the end he told the nurse it took six laser holes, or something.

(Apparently they normally give people some pills to keep the pressure down, but I am allergic to those pills. Fantastic.)

My eye was clearly leaking fluid from someplace that wasn't my tear duct and it was hard to keep it open. But I was feeling less nauseous. The doctor kept asking if I felt better, because the fluid release should make me instantly feel less sick. And I kept saying no, not really, because I am freaking out here and still feeling vaguely sick and now my eye hurts like crazy. But eventually I calmed down a bit.

I got the all-clear to go home and didn't really feel a ton better until after dinner. Milo's birthday dinner, because oh hey, did you remember that it is my oldest child's birthday? More on that later. It is now time for me to go to bed.

Yesterday

Yesterday was my first vision-correction procedure. Everything went just the way it is supposed to. And now, 36-ish hours later, I can see just fine out of my left eye. So, so weird. In a good way.

Here's how it went down: sign a bunch of paperwork, answer some medical questions (again), pee in a cup (not pregnant!). Put on hairnet and booties. Get first of many eyedrops. Go back to surgery room, lie down. Get hooked up to blood pressure cuff, heart rate monitor, wrist monitor cuffs (also pulse?).Get clear eyepatch on non-surgery eye. Eye is slathered with iodine. A mark is made above my eyebrow to mark surgery eye (I later see it is a big black L). More eyedrops. More medical questions. More eyedrops. Take relaxation medicine that tasted gross. Get goopy eye stuff, makes my eyelid feel like it can't open but doesn't want to shut. Can't see out of my eye anymore, really. Too goopy. Try to relax. The room is freezing, request warm blanket (which has been offered twice already). Wait. Wait. Wait.

The relaxation meds don't seem to be doing much. The nurse said I might not feel like I was really there, or might feel really tired. She said I probably wouldn't remember any of this later. (I do remember it.)

After maybe 20 minutes of waiting, the bed is reclined all the way and I am wheeled into the surgery room. I get another warm blanket. An oxygen thingy is put in my nose. My head is taped down to the bed. A paper sheet thing is placed over my head and taped to my face. A hole is cut out of the sheet over my eye. Surgeon comes in.

My surgery eye is opened with the speculum. Can't feel it, really. I don't even know if my non-surgery eye is open or closed. Surgeon describes what he is doing. I am supposed to look at a bright light. More goop. He says my vision may fade out for a bit. It does, which is a little disconcerting but also super good. Tiny sparkly lights are all I can see, like multi-colored glitter on a black backdrop. At times I see bursts of swirly lights and rainbow colors. I can tell when the lens is sliding into my eye.The surgeon tells me as he positions the four corners of the lens behind my iris. This takes longer than I expect and I feel nervous.

Then it's over and time to rinse my eye. I can't feel it except when it hits the bridge of my nose a little. Cold. I don't remember the speculum coming out. The tape hurts as it is pulled off my face. That's pretty strong tape. I am wheeled back out. The blood pressure cuff and monitors are removed. I feel like crying a little bit, but I don't know why. I am vaguely dizzy.

The nurse puts my bed into the upright position and asks me to slowly swing my legs over the side. It seems too fast, I am not ready to stand yet. But I do. And it's fine. I walk out with her, there is Andrew. I can tell already that I can see better, though everything is fuzzy (I don't have my right contact in so that eye is useless, and my left is very fuzzy and numb and weird-feeling). I sit with another nurse. She gives me a bottle of water and a cookie and explains the post-op instructions. She is pointing at a sheet of paper which is utterly ridiculous to me because I can't see much.

She tells me my eye is dripping a bit and hands me a wipe. It dab at my eye and the wipe comes back bloody. Oh.

On the way out I stop in the restroom to put in my right contact. In the mirror I see the yellow of the iodine on my face, a slightly swollen and very dilated eye, and just a tiny crust of blood in the corner of my eye. But it doesn't look nearly as operated-on as I would have thought.

The rest of the day my eye was scratchy and dry feeling, and pretty fuzzy. My depth-perception was way off. I had a headache. I watched TV, rested, and put in lots of various eyedrops. Yesterday evening we had tickets to see the KC Symphony perform the score to The Wizard of Oz while the movie played. I wasn't sure I should go, considering my eye was still so uncomfortable. But I wanted to see the performance and we had had our tickets for months. So we went, and it was incredible. I put my lubricating drops in several times, which helped.

Then overnight I wore my protective clear plastic eyepatch thing (taped to my face) for sleeping and woke up this morning feeling much better. The scratchy feeling is gone, my follow-up appointment went well, and now I can see out of my left eye with no contact lens. I keep forgetting that it's permanent, like I think, "I'll go take out my contacts now, and just relax in my glasses." But no. Can't do that. Huh. The next three weeks will be weird. Maybe I'll get used to it.

So that is probably way more than you wanted to know about the phakic IOL procedure. Not quite what I expected, which I think is a good thing.

A life-changing day

Tomorrow I am having vision correction surgery. I can't even believe it, really. Not LASIK, not PRK. I'm getting a phakic IOL. It's kind of like a permanent contact lens inside your eye.

I know you probably don't get it, exactly, why this is life changing. And you especially don't get it if you have good eyesight. See, I have terrible eyesight. (For those of you in the know, my fellow myopia people, I have -8.00 in my left eye and -6.00 in my right.) It's bad. Blurry. Like, can't read my bedside clock. Like, if he's sitting still, can't tell if my kid is in the room.

And suddenly, after a ten-minute procedure, I'll be able to see (out of one eye; they do them on separate days). I'm so nervous. That isn't even a strong enough word. I'm afraid I'm making a bad decision. Not sure why I think that. Maybe because it was hasty? Maybe because that's just how I roll, overanalyzing things?

Anyway, I honestly feel like my identity is changing. Kind of like how in high school, I played the violin. It was what I did, who I was. And then I went to college and didn't play, and suddenly I had to find another person to be. What kind of person will perfect-vision me be?

I clearly need to go to bed. Think of me tomorrow morning.