Quilts of our lives, part 6 (or so)

Along with the chicken quilt, this was from my whole-cloth phase. The fish fabric was from two sets of flannel sheets I got on clearance at Target. Both sides are fairly well-quilted, and by "well" I mean "lots o' stitches, not necessarily nice ones." It was my first non stitch-in-the ditch quilt, and I still sleep under it.

This photo makes it look like I quit quilting once I felt like it was going to hold together. Which I did. I find it hilarious, apparently, to showcase my limited abilities and dedication.

The next quilt of our series will likely be one I didn't make, so stay tuned!

Crushing guilt. As usual.

So I've always been good at feeling bad. I still feel bad for dumb things I did in 1st grade. What is wrong with me? That can't be normal. See? I feel bad for feeling bad.

Shaun's illness has offered lots of new opportunities for guilt. Guilt for serving sodium-laden food all these years. Guilt when I crave (and can eat) carry-out pizza. Guilt when I forget to start the sodium-free pot roast, so he has to have a salt-free peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Again.

Then there's the generalized guilt: Guilt for not blogging more, guilt for posting whiny blog posts like this one, guilt that V watches too much tv, guilt that I don't get my papers graded faster, guilt that I don't write more letters/eat more vegetables/go to the library more.

And I know all the stuff about forgiving myself, and moving on, and taking steps to let go of guilt. And I feel guilty for not doing them.

Mostly, I'm posting about all my guilt so that I can get it out of me, air it out, and move on. We'll see how well that works.

Our Valley's Fair

Mama and V on the Ferris Wheel (this one was much less scary for me than our last Ferris Wheel)

This picture is so awesome, I feel like I should write to the footlong corndog company and ask if they want to buy some copies.

The Dizzy Dragon in which V and Daddy rode.

On the wacky tugboat ride.

The second best footlong corndog photo ever.

I would've paid good money if a bug would've flown in just then. Very good money.

Top of the ferris wheel midway shot. I love midways.

When your child has sensory integration issues, a fair (or circus or parade or baseball game or doctor's visit or movie or walk around the block or trip to the store or a basic conversation) can be a frightening can full of angry, rabid worms. To prepare, we talked about the fair for about a week ahead of time, and brought sunglasses and water. I should've brought wet wipes (MOM! I AM STICKY! was heard by, um, everyone at the fair), but overall it was a successful trip, without a single meltdown or kick or uncontrollable screaming bout (sticky fit notwithstanding). She wavered once or twice, but marched on, and we had a lovely time.

Whew.

Two

Two years ago this evening, I know exactly where I was. As the second child in her family, and the third grandchild, Emmy might seem sometimes to get lost in the shuffle, but the truth is, she won't stand for that. I wrote a poem for V's second birthday, and for Will's, and knowing Emmy, if I don't write her one, she won't ever forgive me. Last year's post for her was a type of poem, but this one here's more official. Not terribly polished, but utterly heartfelt.

Emerson Claire

Your dark ringlets grew in this year

curling around your ears and into my heart.

You are my little sister, version two,

with her sweet round face and dark eyes,

and generosity in your heart.

Like your mother, second doesn't suit you.

You must be heard, and obeyed. Such a big voice

in a small girl.

I can see you, lead singer in your own punk

band, passionate schoolteacher, brilliant CEO,

pouring your fiery self into this world.

I am lucky to see you grow into yourself,

with your vaudevillian sense of comedy,

finicky eating, and clear, repeated shouts of "No!"

The world is lucky to have you, too.

May it give back as much as you give it, and more.

A second place to Languish

I got tired of all the spam involved in my Google blog, so I'm trying again, this time in Wordpress. Knock yourself out, leave supportive comments, and .... offer suggestions. Please.

All we ever hoped for.

A rare, non-goofy photo of my family. I love them both so.

In one of Shaun's appointments this week, his doctor from BHFC (before heart failure crap) said he's quite confident Shaun will rebound and work through this. Though heart failure is not something one gets over, the doctor said given his age and willingness to change his lifestyle, it should be manageable. I guardedly accept his assessment, but if he turns out wrong, I'm gonna hunt him down and knee him in the groin.

I think that's reasonable.

Nice ejection fraction, babe.

Things that suck about heart failure:
1. learning more new terms/concepts than I have since college. Or at least since we became parents.
2. It's freakng called heart FAILURE. How does that even sound fun?
3. Trying for a low-sodium diet. This is a respectable goal, but do you have any idea how hard it is? Shaun's supposed to have 2000 mg or less of sodium a day, on average. Which isn't too bad, considering some people can't have any salt at all, and the US RDA of sodium is 2400 mgs/ day. But one slice of cheese pizza has 702 mg of sodium. A can of Campbell's chunky soup has roughly 1600 mg of sodium. One egg has 65 mg. One cup of milk has 135. How did this happen? Why is it everywhere? Why is it in milk but not in whipping cream?
4. Seeing the horrified faces of my nursing students when I tell them Shaun's ejection fraction is 20%.
5. Four doctors appointments a week.
6. It's damn hard to plan a date when you can't go out to dinner together because everything at every restaurant is made, primarily , of salt.

Fun things about heart failure:
1. He might get an implanted difibulator. You know, a difibulator is the kind of thing that Dr. Green would use on ER right after he shouted "Clear!" And everyone had to stop touching the patient. Shaunie could have one of those implanted. Like a magic power, kind of.
2. Shaun has a wee bottle of nitroglyerin he's supposed to take with him wherever he goes.
3. This makes me think of us as Hepburn and Fonda in On Golden Pond.
4. That means I get to be Hepburn.
5. Our insurance covers 3 of the 4 weekly doctors appointments (and I feel very, very fortunate for this).
6. Heart in spanish is El Corazon. El Corazon is an album I enjoy by Steve Earle.

Okay, it's a stretch to come up with 6 fun things about heart failure. But I'm trying.

A blessed fourth of July to you and yours. Be careful of waterballoons.  Love all y'all.

8 years and one day

It doesn't feel that long ago when we gathered with our families, and Shaun made fun of my Swedish crown (he kept asking if I wanted to go to Burger King), and we promised to love each other all our lives.

We got married when we did partially because Shaun didn't have any health insurance, and because his grandfather died of a heart attack at 37 (and Shaun was 32), I was afraid for him to not have insurance. My work would gladly add him, as long as we got married. Plus we loved each other and stuff (though it still bothers me that we can get married and our gay and lesbian friends cannot).

I keep thinking I want to say something profound here, but given our recent circumstances, it all seems trite and goofy. The last eight years have been crazy, sometimes crazy good, and sometimes crazy not so good. Thanks for showing up in the backyard that Wednesday in 2002, Shaunsie. It's been a helluva ride so far.

Settling down

Shaun's been out of the hospital since Wednesday, and he is feeling pretty good overall (thankfully). We've been working hard to figure out what he can/should eat, and realizing that if you just take salt out of things and don't replace it with something yummy, most things taste like wet cardboard. At least, that's what I've been realizing.

We have heard from so many dear friends, through blog comments, facebook, e-mails, and phone calls. Honestly, when I feel overwhelmed (you mean he's hungry again? And he already ate all the leftover chicken?) or lonesome, I think of all of you, and I feel much better.

Our merry-go-round is still spinning, and still a bit wobbly, but at least it's slowed down enough for us to take a breath. Thanks for all the thoughts, prayers, and love. They help more than you know.

Serious need for re-branding, people.

So it looks like Shauners should get to come home tomorrow, late morning or early afternoon. We'll meet with doctors and set up appointments to start his cardiac rehab regimen. In the meantime, the nurses dropped off a packet of information for us to peruse to better understand what we're dealing with.

You know what it's titled?

Heart Failure Packet.

Fun, right? What the hell? All kinds of other diseases get fancy names (see: chilbain, dropsy, scarlet fever, whooping cough), but this is the best they can come up with? Let's call it Jeanette, or Tha-Thump, Tha-Thump, or even Heart Sickness Packet. Heart Failure Packet just sounds so...so...much like a lost cause.

But wait, it gets better. The inside of the Heart Failure Packet includes fascinating pamphlets like "Living Well with Heart Failure," and "A Stronger Pump" with a cartoon of a heart flexing a....bicep. What? Oh, and the paperwork to create a living will.

I understand. Things are very serious. But, um, Meritcare, maybe include...I dunno, a few pretty stickers? Some semblance of hope? Perhaps a free t-shirt that says "I'm Successful at Heart Failure!"

We have to cut out salt. Do you know what has the most salt? Foods that taste good. Everything made by every fast-food company everywhere. My mother's homemade bean and ham soup. Frickin' milkshakes!

I'm looking forward to Shaun coming home, and I'm giving all our salt-laden food away. And if Meritcare needs advice on sprucing up their Jeanette Packet, I'm all over it.

Thanks for the love, guys. It means the world to us.

Saltily yours,
J, $, and V

It's hangin'

Thanks for all the care, concern, comments, and calls, dear ones. Shaun got good rest today, and will have an angiogram tomorrow (which totally sounds like a singing telegram from a girl named Angie, by the way). If that's clear, he will get to go home tomorrow, with some new meds and follow up appointments. If it's not clear, he may be in another day or so, but even then there are treatments and plans already laid out.

Everyone at the hospital has been lovely, thorough, and optimistic. My last post was scary, I know, but I'm feeling much more hopeful, and much less afraid. We're lucky to have caught Shaun's condition at this point, and the medications are already making him feel better. We feel well cared for and well informed, and for that I'm thankful.

Our lives will need to change, regardless. It's clear we need to take better care of ourselves and each other. And I know this is terribly corny, but instead of the end of our old lives, which I bemoaned in my last post, I hope we'll look back on this week as a new chance, a new beginning.

Please know that if I don't return your calls or messages or e-mails, it's not that I haven't received them. I'll try to keep updating as we get new information, and I love knowing we're in your thoughts. When things calm down a tad (hopefully tomorrow or the next day), I'll work on getting back to each of you. Until then, thank you all so much.

Father's Day

Shaun is sick. He had pneumonia about ten days ago, and still wasn't feeling better yesterday. The doctor at yesterday's walk-in said "Well your heart is enlarged..." as if he should have known that. We didn't. Shaun was admitted to the hospital last night around 6:30.

Cardiomyopathy. Do not look at any links I don't put here, people. The internet is a terrifying place.

When I was 12, and my dad had the stroke, I remember the distinct feeling that nothing would ever be the same. I got pissed off at Connie Chung for prattling on about celebrity news. I feel that way now (except for the Connie Chung part). It's not an especially fair analogy, but still I am trying not to hyperventilate.

It's been a hard year for us. A terrible year. We decided to have a second baby this winter, which drove us straight to marriage counselling this spring, trying to remember why we loved each other, and whether or not we could figure things out. Just this month, we both started to feel again that maybe we could work through this, that we could actually still make a life together.

Now he's in the hospital, and it's father's day, and I'm trying not to freak out. I want to call someone, someone who will tell me this will be okay. I want to call the Mayo Clinic. I want to shake the doctor who read Shaun's x-ray last week, who didn't tell us/notice/mention that his heart was already enlarged. I want someone to fix this. I want my husband, and I want V to have her father, for a long, long time.

"I don't want anything for Father's Day," he said last week. "It just reminds me how I'm not a father of two like you wanted me to be." My sweet holy moses, man. You are above and beyond the father I wanted you to be, and you have been since September 7, 2005. I don't need a second baby. I need you, and me, and her, as healthy as we can be, together for as long as we can make it.

I want our old life back. I don't think it will ever be the same.

(Edited to add: Shaun's feeling pretty good right now, just a little short of breath. We haven't met with the cardiology team yet, and don't know much at all about what our future will hold. I don't want to scare anyone unnecessarily: I'm busy doing that to myself.)

Flora

Part II of Jen and V's Summer Adventures: Flora.

V requested this photo: she says it looks like Ferb, a character from her favorite cartoon.

Fauna

My dear friends who hate snakes: you're gonna wanna stop reading this before photo #4. Just so you know. And if any of you hate dragonflies or caterpillars, you might as well just stop reading altogether. V and I have been out and about quite a bit this summer. We've been to the lake, and we went camping. For your viewing pleasure, I'm breaking all this excitement down into categories including Flora, Fauna, and something else I haven't decided on yet. Mineral, maybe? Offer your suggestions.

I don't remember seeing these things in my childhood. My father in law says they're called army worms, and they aren't caterpillars, per se, as they never transform into moths or butterflies. A lot of folks seem to hate these, but I'm just glad they don't bite. And I think they come in some cool colors.

This dragonfly is not the same as the first one pictured, I don't think. Dragonflies are hard to photograph, it turns out. Don't say I never taught you nothin, now.

And perhaps the most excitement we had camping: this little garter snake slithered right through the middle of camp one afternoon. V was napping, and Crystal, Nancy, and I were sitting around talking when Crystal said "Hey, Nance! Look! No, don't look!" She and I both thought it was a great big earth worm before we realized it was more sinister than that. I wasn't fast enough to get a photo of the whole thing, and I wasn't brave enough to touch it, so this tail shot will have to do.

What say you? What summer adventures have you enjoyed so far?

PS: the first two photos are with the old-school Olympus camera, and the last two are from digital. Can you tell the difference? Explain, in 200 words or less.

Celebration

To celebrate the end of V and my school year, all three of us went to an indoor Ferris Wheel across town. It's pretty impressive, and also, it's named Ruby.

V and $haun have ridden this many times together, so she and I went first. She was sooo excited to show me this fancy thing. And also, she really wanted to see Daddy when our car stopped on top.

I, on the other hand, have apparently developed a fear of heights since my last Ferris Wheel ride. There were lots of white knuckles. Do you know how much a 4 year old can move on a Ferris Wheel? Can you read this, from the seat in front of us? In the RED CAPITAL LETTERS?

V can read, but seemed unconcerned by this clear warning. Finally, I told her I was kind of nervous. She patted my back with her little hand and said, "It's okay, Mama. I'll take care of you."
Really, though, I need to stay on the ground from now on. Who else will take the photos? And don't these two look ridiculously happy?

Underappreciated; or, my second post on dandelions this month.

I know they're weeds. I know they spread like crazy and all my neighbors have way fewer of these in their yards than we do. But maybe it's because they're weeds that they're so awesome. What other flower do school children get to pick without ever being scolded? And make up games about? (We had one involving the almighty dandelion predicting whether or not you liked butter. Because that cosmic puzzle is one that we just can't solve without assistance). And make crowns and mama bouquets and wish upon?

I just think these are mighty pretty. That's all I'm trying to say.

37

Today is my birthday. In years past, I've done the stereotypical blogging list, which you can see here, if you want. But to mix things up this year, instead of 37 random things about me, I decided to write a list of 37 things I want to do in the next 37 years of my life. So here we go. These are in no particular order, but I tried to list things that are actually humanly possible (as opposed to "go back in time and hug my dad once more" or "walk on Mars").

1. Get a new tattoo in honor of V.
2. Go on a cemetery tour in New Orleans.
3. Go to Europe.
4. Take a painting class.
5. Swim in the ocean.
6. Eat award-winning gorgonzola cheese.
7. Learn to weld.
8. Build a swing set/play house for V.
9. Let go of all my old shame/guilt for stuff that doesn't matter to anyone but me.
10. Take $haun to Vegas.
11. Have a wee camper and live in it for at least a month, perhaps travelling the country ala Steinbeck in Travels with Charley.
12. Take a few sabbaticals
13. Teach a class on circus freaks.
14. Publish a paper zine again.
15. Have a healthy, well-adjusted dog to take with for #11.
16. Grow a watermelon.
17. Visit Johnny Cash's grave.
18. Master blackjack.
19. Eat a fresh artichoke, steamed, with Tenessa.
20. Get a professional massage.
21. Get that new-fangled lasiks surgery.
22. Go to England.
23. Go to Hawaii.
24. Have a regular poker night.
25. Take V to a Broadway Musical.
26. Write a country music song.
27. Help Dan and Tenessa move back to Fargo.
28. Learn to play bass guitar.
29. Go to Graceland.
30. Live in a house with a turret.
31. Find Tim Johnson and Shannon Welch, twolong lost friends (from college & elementary school respectively).
32. Watch the series finale of LOST.
33. Have a drink with a celebrity I respect.
34. Write to Loretta Lynn and tell her I love her.
35. Bake a cake from scratch.
36. Spread my dad's ashes somewhere good.
37. Go to Casa Azul to see where Frida Kahlo lived.

Some of these are time sensitive, like #8 or #34, but otherwise, I have until I'm 74, so I think this is doable. What do you want to before you're 74?

The last of kid's clothes week. I think.

I found these denim capris at Saver's the other day for $2. (I thought they were $1, but I can't remember what color is 1/2 off, so I paid the full $2). Anyway, they were a grown up size 13, but I don't care about that. What I cared about is cutting them down to V's size. So I did. They are a bit long for capris, but the girl grew 3 inches in the last 6 months. By the end of the summer, I reckon they'll be perfect. V has loved flamingoes since I stayed at the Flamingo in Vegas last May. Nothing like wholesome influences for child rearin', I always say.

Whew. Whaddaya think about V's new clothes? What should I sew next?

V's guide to dandelion wishing

First, pick a good, full dandelion with a long stem.

Then blow.And blow.

Don't forget to wish, too!Keep blowing!

Ah. Wasn't that fun?

Hope all your wishes come true this week!

Kids clothes week, Day 5

Skirt #3: from an orange table cloth we had our wedding reception. Bloomers #2: to keep Dora et al covered up, and look cute, and allow my girl to do her somersaults like she wants to.

And pants #3, in an upholstery weight, denim-like fabric I bought before V was a year old.

Man, I'm kinda tired. I'll try to do one more batch tomorrow, and then provide you with a full list of finished projects. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, if you're not a sewist or you haven't felt like doing this project. I'm just tooting my own horn, because for once I've committed and followed through. If it weren't so rare, I'd be annoying myself by now.