I'm moving

Literally and figuratively, in blog world. I have started blogging in Wordpress. All my previous and brilliant posts, along with your sparse but equally brilliant comments, have been imported into my new blog site mamainsqueeze.wordpress.com. I am very excited about this move and promise to visit this site occasionally but I dearly hope you will move over there with me as I have newly committed to try to consistently describe what its like to be me (and there are thousands just like me situationally speaking). Although I am often messagey I hope you laugh a bit occasionally as we roll along. That's mamainsqueeze.wordpress.com . Click the "About" tab and enter your name and your email and your comment. Thank you for being a fan.

Pants, Revisited

Ok, we moved to a new house. Weirdly, there haven't been too many complaints about the 71-72 degree constant (dare we hope to edge toward 70?). But... the floor is travertine in most of the house which is unbelievably cold, even to me. So everyone's feet hurt. Of course it has been in the forties which for Central Florida is a bit weird and unsettling and might have something to do with the ridiculously cold floors! But my dad has now taken to wearing the same sweatshirt, with hood, in the house for days and days and days with nothing underneath. Its as if one layer of clothing is all he can stand. Maybe multiple layers are just too heavy. Hard to know but he thought his comforter was too heavy. So we took the comforter off and now he has three blankets... but apparently those aren't too heavy. We can't completely ignore the muttered comments about the north pole that occasionally waft our way but the overt and personally directed complaints are in remission for the moment. This house, blessedly, appears to hold temperature a bit better than the old one which helps I think since it doesn't really go up and down. It has been so cold and wet that we have been spared the "if you don't wear shorts when its 50" conversation and, even better, the sight of my dad in his heaviest ski parka with nothing else on but jockey shorts. This latter visual is my teen son's least favorite in all the world and for now, gratefully, we have revisited long pants.

Yeah, sure

I keep saying I'm going to be consistent but that's the only thing I've been consistent about! it would be so nice if life was not so messy and complex but, rather, allowed us enough time to do those things we really enjoy. But... life gets in the way of life, yes it does. And it is messy and complex. The cats have it right. Sleep, eat, hunt mice, and again. So I would cook, sing and write; and again. Unfortunately that's not how it is right now. We have moved. We have, at least apparently and momentarily, pulled our teenager back from the brink of academic disaster. Etc. etc. We have technology to fight with, I have found that this activity sucks up hours and hours each week. E-mail that doesn't go through, computers that won't connect, phones with a bad signal, and on and on. Its amazing the number of distractions from the core pleasures life can offer up. Work is a major diversion; and it sucks up a giant amount of time. It used to seem to be everything, now....not so much. On the back side, it feels as if I should be doing something more pleasing and self-sustaining. But money is good too. So, I will try again. And you all will say... yeah, sure.

Ah We are Back To Consistency

So my very few dear friends, I have not been so consistent with this blog. Although I promised to be. But a choice had to be made between consistent blogging and consistently being available for life and consistently getting a little sleep. Surprisingly, I chose the latter. In August, when this blog went to sleep, my dad broke his hip. We didn't know it at the time and it is a long and sordid story but the interim result was that he acquired a severe narcotic induced dementia that, although it has resolved, left it clear that there was non-narcotic induced dementia as well. It became clear that this was of some long standing and a little worse than we thought. In the meantime, however, there was a week long hospital stay and a month of rehab/nursing home. During this time life became work and nursing home and not much else. Little time for family, self, friends or blogging. I went from work to nursing home to take out to teenage homework, to bed. My dad is home, not happy but home, at our house. Along with him has come caregivers and a mind boggling number off appointments with various doctors and therapists. More on the caregivers another day, it has been a trip! More on the calendars, it continues to be a chore. But I keep trying to chronicle this life; difficult but filled with wonders nonetheless.

Could You Just Put Your Pants On?

Ok so here we are, it was about six months into the extended family experiment. My husband comes home from work to have lunch which he does with some regularity. Its about 1 p.m. As he is making himself a ham and cheese sandwich my father walks through the house and he is stark, staring naked. My husband is a bit taken aback but figures he will just go into his room and close the door, or put on pants. But no, my dad goes about his business wandering to and fro, naked as the day he was born. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, my husband asks if he could put on pants. The response was...no! At this point in the telling of the story I was pretty much flabbergasted. Maybe he is starting to feel so comfortable here that he feels he should be able to do as he pleases, or at least as he did in his own home when he lived alone. My husband made the point that if he could not walk around naked, then nobody else should be allowed to either. Later in the day, at a clothed moment, I finally had to weigh in. I explained to my dad that my teenage son lives here too and he might have feelings about the naked grandfather thing. Additionally, my son's friends are here; a lot. And I know they would have feelings about the naked grandfather thing. Certainly it's too much information for me. Now its a few months later and we have mostly solved the naked thing, although there is the occasional lapse. Now more often he wanders about for the better part of half a day in his underwear. I do tell him when there are going to be children, or guests, about and he will get dressed. Frequently he complains about how cold my house is (I have sacrificed and turned the thermostat up to 75 which for me is Saharan heat). His solution for this is unique. He still wanders about in his underwear but wears a winter fleece jacket; understand I live in Central Florida where it is generally never colder than 60 even at night. He can often be found at the dinner table in short tennis shorts and a flannel lined windbreaker. Of all the possible problems that I imagined or anticipated when we decided he would move in here, daytime nakedness was just not one of them, it was quite a surprise. He cannot believe that I am hot all the time, he thinks I am making it up. We often suggest that he might not be cold if he wore pants; he just doesn't believe.

They Are Squeezing My Shoes

There has been so much written about my generation that we have lots of labels in the popular press. We are the baby boomers and we are the "sandwich" generation to name the two biggies that come to mind. I like to think of it as just squeezed. And of course this economic downturn (read catastrophe) we are currently experiencing is adding to the squeeze. Police officers, at least in New York, used to have an expression that someone was "squeezing their shoes". I have always loved this expression, I find that it perfectly captures how I feel at times. And now is one of those times. As I have written before, my father came to live with us about eight months ago and there are so many observations and subjects to talk about it is hard to know where to start. And as I have often written about, I have a teenage son now beginning his junior (read hell) year of high school in a very difficult program (and no I am not pushing him too hard). My dad is quite competent in some respects. He still balances his checkbook, no matter how long it takes. He still takes his shirts to the dry cleaner but it is a half day expedition. He has terrific difficulty with his computer, phone, tv and cable box. He is alone during the day, mostly, so he waits for me to return home for his social interaction and to tell him where the "x" went on his computer. My son, the other half of the "squeeze", managed to do very poorly in school last year. He agrees that he can do the work, he agrees that he didn't really try, he says he's ready to try but doesn't really know why he didn't. He will require a great deal of structure, help and motivation to make it through this year. You get the idea, I am in the middle. They are squeezing my shoes. My husband is great. He is kind and helpful with my dad and does everything possible for my son. But my dad really only wants to talk to me, he gets pissed at everyone else (gets pissed at me too but not quite as much). And my husband simply isn't good at the school thing. So he cooks comfort food that isn't really good for me but is made with great intentions. I often wonder what I am supposed to be learning through all this. Usually one thing jumps right into my mind...patience. Apparently I didn't have enough because I am learning more, it is greatly required. Retirement seems a very long way off.

Facebook Revisited

Facebook is fun...sometimes. I have, however, come to the conclusion that people, many of whom claim they are too busy to breathe, actually have way too much time on their hands. I went to the movies with friends Sunday night and discovered that, although they were enjoying the movie, they were actually texting and "Facebooking" during the movie. Good grief. It is as if people can no longer be alone with themselves, it is sort of frightening. I have work, I have family, I have things to focus on. Facebook provides a wonderful opportunity to re-connect with people I haven't seen in years and I like that part very much. It provides an easy way to communicate when there really isn't time to have long phone conversations. In some ways it provides a certain intimacy since you are not talking "live" or face to face; although it really is live; we just act as if it were not. I have a hard time keeping in touch with folks because I honestly don't have time for long phone conversations. But it doesn't mean I don't love them and miss them, I just have a ridiculous life. Nevertheless, I find Facebook tiring sometimes and I am astounded at the amount of time people spend on the silliness. It took me about two weeks to figure out that I would ignore all the invites to groups, games, throwing things (except kitties because the visual amuses me) and simply chat occasionally with my friends or express my self, or ask people to join my blogs (shameless plug). Personally, I like being alone with myself today, maybe a little music, often a book. I can turn my cell phone off for a whole day or night and be not troubled at all by the idea that I might miss a call. I love my friends but I truly don't need their constant company. I don't want my "social networking" to be a chore, I just want to enjoy and love my friends. I am mildly disgusted by the ego involved in some cases and the work involved to keep up that some people invest. I like myself today, enough to just be alone. The next time people tell me they are too busy for almost anything, I will tell them to just give up a f Facebook every other day. They would have plenty of time for everything.

Nothing To Be Afraid Of

So this morning, my boss, who is officed and resides about 4 hours away, showed up about 9:30. In he strolled and said "Hi". I just said good morning, enquired about his weekend and went back to work. As I went about my business, the random thought floated across my mind that I was glad I was doing nothing wrong because gee, he isn't normally there. And hard on the heels of that thought was the thought that when you don't do anything wrong you have nothing to be afraid of. I am so glad today that I have nothing to be afraid of. I give an honest day's work and then some to my job, I always have. Even when I am not thrilled with it, I try to do my best. All through our building people have a serious stress reaction when my boss shows up for a few days (he owns the company). This always makes me wonder what is going on when he isn't there that people feel they can't do when he is? If folks are just doing their jobs properly, it really shouldn't make any difference if he is there or not. He doesn't monitor anything more on site than he does off, he isn't there to get anyone in trouble, he's just there looking after his business, as he should. You shouldn't be more on the job, or on your toes, when the boss is around; your job is your job and you should give your best effort to it no matter what. Then, when your boss is around, you don't have to change your ways, look over your shoulder, or have anything to be afraid of. How nice.

Graduation - Hope In All the Right Faces

And since we are on the subject of education...I recently attended the college graduation of a friend. She is what is commonly known as a "mature" student. She is many years out of high school, three kids and a world of living later. She has been in school almost as long as I have known her; about five years. Raising her kids and doing homework. Wow, do I have respect for that. I have accomplished a lot but I don't think I could have accomplished that. But I digress, as usual. We raced over to the campus stadium, about an hour from home, at the crack of dawn and found our seats (her parents got there before the crack of dawn and saved them for us!). As the hundreds of graduates began to file in and take their seats I found myself truly moved, looking on as I was from my "mature" vantage point. I looked into the sea of faces, mostly young and untried, and what came to me was that the hall was thick with hope. Many of the graduates had painted messages of thanks to their parents on their mortarboards, that was truly wonderful to see, that there are still kids who don't believe they are "entitled" to everything and who have gratitude. What was astonishing was the number of graduates in the bachelor's of education program. Teachers are so terrifically underpaid and under appreciated these days. It seems generally that they now have to pay for and beg parents for supplies for their classrooms that underfunded school districts are unable to provide. I have to assume lots of them know this. But there they were, faces shining, diplomas held high, hopeful to start their careers. These are not just the hopeful, they are the hope. In their hands are the future of our country, those who will make policy and care for us when we are old, those who will forge our place in the world, those who will teach the next to come.